![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pteropoda posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
small_giftsTitle: To Fall for/on the Northern Line
Author/Artist:pteropoda
Recipient:maraudorable
Rating: T for mild swearing
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): n/a
Word count: 1735
Summary: It's hard to get a second meeting on the busiest line in London, but a little luck and a little hope go a long way.
Notes: Written for maraudorable's third prompt, "Muggle strangers AU: Remus and Sirius take the same train every day."It deviated a liiiiiiiittle bit from the "every day" part of the prompt, but the subway is a weird limnal space during the holidays and that's my excuse. Hope you enjoy!
There was no better reminder that you were working on a bank holiday than walking into an empty train car. On the course of his usual commute, Sirius might consider having even half a square meter of floor space to himself a luxury during his normal 7:13 ride on the Northern Line. Today, he had his choice of seats.
It wasn’t worth missing his godson’s first Christmas Day for, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. Not if he wanted to keep this job. And he did, against all odds, want to keep this job. It’ll be worth the hassle in three years when you have a good NGO on your CV in three years when you bugger off for better jobs, he told himself. And then, when that didn’t work, Harry won’t remember this one anyway. Lily and James will take pictures. They’ll take videos. You won’t miss that much.
That didn’t help either.
With a sigh, Sirius threw himself into one of the many empty seats. He tipped his head back, and let his legs stretch out in front of him, until the tips of his shoes bumped up against the opposite row of seats. He had eight stops to go before his, and he intended to spend as much of that time relaxing as he could.
He managed to keep it up when the doors slid open at the next stop. He didn’t bother to open his eyes when he heard footsteps coming and going from the train, just slid his feet back until they only rested in the middle of the aisle instead of stretching all the way across it. He wasn’t a complete asshole.
That would have been the end of it, if the train hadn’t jerked at that moment.
He heard the swear in an instant before something crashed hard on his legs, sending them skidding to the side. He jerked upright, scrabbling for purchase, and his opened eyes were met with a hand being shoved into his face just as his knee met something soft.
Someone yelped. The hand pulled away. Sirius narrowly avoided falling off of his seat, and found a man kneeling in front of him, wheezing, with one arm pressed against his side.
“Fuck, mate, you alright?” he said, leaning forward, just as the man said, “I’m sorry about that, terribly sorry, you’re not hurt, are you?”
They nearly started talking over one another again in their efforts to respond. Sirius found himself unaccountably flustered, so instead he just offered the man a hand, and shook his head with his most rueful smile. “Let’s try that again, eh?” he said. “Sorry about that, mate.”
Tripped Guy took the offered hand to stumble to his feet, then dropped it in favor of trying to straighten his coat and pick up whatever he’d dropped, which looked to be some sort of tattered paperback. He was just light enough that Sirius could tell he was blushing too, which made Sirius feel better about how tomato-red he must be. Damn winter, making him lose any dream he’d ever had of a tan. Maybe it was the blush, but Sirius wanted to stare at him for a while longer. He was in a worn old canvas jacket that hung off his shoulders in a way that Sirius didn’t think he ought to find endearing, but when paired with this man’s thin face and gentle eyes made him seem like he’d be… good to hug, maybe. Perfect for tucking under Sirius’s chin.
Get a hold of yourself, man.
“It’s my fault,” Tripped Guy said, already shuffling his feet like he wanted to leave. He looked terribly anxious about the whole thing, but also rather like he was still clutching at his side where Sirius was pretty sure he’d kneed him. “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“And I oughtn’t have been draping myself across the train,” Sirius said with a shrug. “Sit down, would you?”
Tripped Guy glanced around the train. “Er. I’ll do that, thanks. Sorry again.” And before Sirius could say anything, he’d disappeared down the car.
-
Sirius’s consolation prize for working Christmas Eve and Christmas Day was having Boxing Day off, and then the weekend was there to embrace him. He’d nearly forgotten about Tripped Guy by the time Monday rolled around again, when he was running quite literally late for the train. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted breathlessly, making a last dash for the closing doors. He slammed his shoulder into one, causing the thing to shudder and recoil as he stumbled through and fetched up awkwardly against the closest commuter.
“Sorry--” he started to say, then stammered his way to a grinning halt.
Tripped Guy was clinging to the rail and blinking in surprise at him.
“Sorry about that,” Sirius repeated himself. He couldn’t stop the shark-toothed grin from spreading across his face, even though he knew his ears were going red from more than just the cold. “Think we’re even now, mate?”
To his pleasure, Tripped Guy also clearly remembered him, because he’d started to flush again as well. “It’s quite all right,” he muttered, mostly into the red-and-yellow scarf that hand joined the worn coat and bag. It looked new, and soft, and Sirius hated it a little bit for hiding so much of Tripped Guy’s face. The train began to move, and Sirius quickly grabbed for the bar. He carefully avoided Tripped Guy’s hand, who looked-- surprised? Surely that wasn’t disappointment Sirius was seeing in those expressive eyes of his.
“Right,” Tripped guy mumbled. “I should…” He gestured to the rest of the train, seemingly unable to finish his sentence. Sirius got the impression that he meant ‘get out of the way of the doors, or something,’ but he mostly let his sentence be swallowed by that monstrous scarf.
“Catch you around,” Sirius said, and Tripped Guy blinked at him.
“Not literally, I hope,” he mumbled into that scarf, and then he was shuffling off through the crowd, before Sirius could do anything more than snort rather inelegantly.
-
Since Tripped Guy had been on the train Christmas Day, Sirius had high hopes for New Years’ Eve morning, but luck wasn’t with him-- although his usual carriage was nearly empty again, there was no familiar brown curls, no green-grey jacket and piles of scarf to greet his commute that day. He very briefly entertained the thought of coming to the train on New Years’ Day, but his personal mission this year was to get Lily and James to stay up past Midnight, baby Harry or not, and did not fancy himself dedicated enough to Tripped Guy, no matter how fit, to ride the train at seven while sleep-deprived and viciously hungover.
Then Friday passed with another no-show, and the weekend, and before Sirius knew it, the crowds were back to their normal nightmarish crush, and his commute was back to being the proper morning hellscape.
It felt like a bubble had been popped. Maybe it was that empty train car, or maybe it was the lonely camaraderie of being the only ones on the Underground during the holidays, but the strange magic that had allowed him to talk to and maybe flirt with fit blokes on the Underground disappeared, swallowed by the masses of people.
Sirius resigned himself to squeezing as close to a pole as he could, and of getting elbowed in the stomach and jostled by people pushing their way to the exits. He resigned himself to politely avoiding eye contact and reducing his vocabulary to “‘scuse me” and “sorry” and to being annoyed rather than charmed whenever someone so much as trod on his shoe.
In short, he put his head down, put his shoulders up, and got ready to move on with life.
He did it for a week and a half, until one day, someone’s hand brushed up against his on the overhead straps, and he looked over to see--
Green-grey jacket, brown curls, and a massive pile of scarf, oh fuck it's finally him.
“Oh, sorry,” Tripped Guy said. He didn’t look sorry. There were little smile lines at the corner of his eyes, like he knew exactly what he was doing, with his book held up in one hand and his other brushing up against Sirius’s. He staggered a little, when the train jolted, and that more than anything jolted Sirius into action.
“Here,” he said, switching his hand out on the strap and using his now-free hand to brace Tripped Guy by the shoulder. “Don’t want you falling into anyone else on the Northern Line, do we?”
Tripped Guy leaned into the hand on his shoulder and buried his smile in his scarf. “Can’t have that,” he agreed.
They didn’t talk much after that, with the rattle of the train and the press of the crowd around them, but their fingers brushed every so often, and Sirius’s hand warmed Tripped Guy’s shoulders. Sirius stole glances to catch Tripped Guy stealing glances, and when caught in return couldn’t help his smile.
By the time they were pulling up on his stop, Sirius knew that bubble was back in place. It didn’t matter that he’d been shoved three times, or that the middle-aged woman sitting in the seat in front of him had glared at him the entire time, or that a draft kept getting down his shirt. It was worth it for the way Tripped Guy hadn’t flipped a single page in his book the entire train ride.
“This is me. Same time tomorrow?” Sirius said, clapping Tripped Guy on the shoulder as the train began to slow and the shuffle for the door began.
Immediately the book disappeared, and Tripped Guy began to shuffle in his pocket instead. Sirius waited as long as he dared, but the doors were sliding open by the time Tripped Guy pulled something out of his pocket and shoved it into Sirius’s hand. Sirius opened his hand and saw a scribble of numbers. When he looked back up, Tripped Guy seemed to be flushing again. “Let’s make the next time less crowded, maybe?”
Sirius raised both eyebrows, but his grin would not be suppressed. He curled his hand around the crumpled paper again. “Less crowded than the Northern Line?” he said. “I think I can do that.”
He had to elbow his way off the train after that, but he couldn't find it in himself to mind.
Author/Artist:
pteropodaRecipient:
maraudorableRating: T for mild swearing
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): n/a
Word count: 1735
Summary: It's hard to get a second meeting on the busiest line in London, but a little luck and a little hope go a long way.
Notes: Written for maraudorable's third prompt, "Muggle strangers AU: Remus and Sirius take the same train every day."It deviated a liiiiiiiittle bit from the "every day" part of the prompt, but the subway is a weird limnal space during the holidays and that's my excuse. Hope you enjoy!
There was no better reminder that you were working on a bank holiday than walking into an empty train car. On the course of his usual commute, Sirius might consider having even half a square meter of floor space to himself a luxury during his normal 7:13 ride on the Northern Line. Today, he had his choice of seats.
It wasn’t worth missing his godson’s first Christmas Day for, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. Not if he wanted to keep this job. And he did, against all odds, want to keep this job. It’ll be worth the hassle in three years when you have a good NGO on your CV in three years when you bugger off for better jobs, he told himself. And then, when that didn’t work, Harry won’t remember this one anyway. Lily and James will take pictures. They’ll take videos. You won’t miss that much.
That didn’t help either.
With a sigh, Sirius threw himself into one of the many empty seats. He tipped his head back, and let his legs stretch out in front of him, until the tips of his shoes bumped up against the opposite row of seats. He had eight stops to go before his, and he intended to spend as much of that time relaxing as he could.
He managed to keep it up when the doors slid open at the next stop. He didn’t bother to open his eyes when he heard footsteps coming and going from the train, just slid his feet back until they only rested in the middle of the aisle instead of stretching all the way across it. He wasn’t a complete asshole.
That would have been the end of it, if the train hadn’t jerked at that moment.
He heard the swear in an instant before something crashed hard on his legs, sending them skidding to the side. He jerked upright, scrabbling for purchase, and his opened eyes were met with a hand being shoved into his face just as his knee met something soft.
Someone yelped. The hand pulled away. Sirius narrowly avoided falling off of his seat, and found a man kneeling in front of him, wheezing, with one arm pressed against his side.
“Fuck, mate, you alright?” he said, leaning forward, just as the man said, “I’m sorry about that, terribly sorry, you’re not hurt, are you?”
They nearly started talking over one another again in their efforts to respond. Sirius found himself unaccountably flustered, so instead he just offered the man a hand, and shook his head with his most rueful smile. “Let’s try that again, eh?” he said. “Sorry about that, mate.”
Tripped Guy took the offered hand to stumble to his feet, then dropped it in favor of trying to straighten his coat and pick up whatever he’d dropped, which looked to be some sort of tattered paperback. He was just light enough that Sirius could tell he was blushing too, which made Sirius feel better about how tomato-red he must be. Damn winter, making him lose any dream he’d ever had of a tan. Maybe it was the blush, but Sirius wanted to stare at him for a while longer. He was in a worn old canvas jacket that hung off his shoulders in a way that Sirius didn’t think he ought to find endearing, but when paired with this man’s thin face and gentle eyes made him seem like he’d be… good to hug, maybe. Perfect for tucking under Sirius’s chin.
Get a hold of yourself, man.
“It’s my fault,” Tripped Guy said, already shuffling his feet like he wanted to leave. He looked terribly anxious about the whole thing, but also rather like he was still clutching at his side where Sirius was pretty sure he’d kneed him. “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“And I oughtn’t have been draping myself across the train,” Sirius said with a shrug. “Sit down, would you?”
Tripped Guy glanced around the train. “Er. I’ll do that, thanks. Sorry again.” And before Sirius could say anything, he’d disappeared down the car.
-
Sirius’s consolation prize for working Christmas Eve and Christmas Day was having Boxing Day off, and then the weekend was there to embrace him. He’d nearly forgotten about Tripped Guy by the time Monday rolled around again, when he was running quite literally late for the train. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted breathlessly, making a last dash for the closing doors. He slammed his shoulder into one, causing the thing to shudder and recoil as he stumbled through and fetched up awkwardly against the closest commuter.
“Sorry--” he started to say, then stammered his way to a grinning halt.
Tripped Guy was clinging to the rail and blinking in surprise at him.
“Sorry about that,” Sirius repeated himself. He couldn’t stop the shark-toothed grin from spreading across his face, even though he knew his ears were going red from more than just the cold. “Think we’re even now, mate?”
To his pleasure, Tripped Guy also clearly remembered him, because he’d started to flush again as well. “It’s quite all right,” he muttered, mostly into the red-and-yellow scarf that hand joined the worn coat and bag. It looked new, and soft, and Sirius hated it a little bit for hiding so much of Tripped Guy’s face. The train began to move, and Sirius quickly grabbed for the bar. He carefully avoided Tripped Guy’s hand, who looked-- surprised? Surely that wasn’t disappointment Sirius was seeing in those expressive eyes of his.
“Right,” Tripped guy mumbled. “I should…” He gestured to the rest of the train, seemingly unable to finish his sentence. Sirius got the impression that he meant ‘get out of the way of the doors, or something,’ but he mostly let his sentence be swallowed by that monstrous scarf.
“Catch you around,” Sirius said, and Tripped Guy blinked at him.
“Not literally, I hope,” he mumbled into that scarf, and then he was shuffling off through the crowd, before Sirius could do anything more than snort rather inelegantly.
-
Since Tripped Guy had been on the train Christmas Day, Sirius had high hopes for New Years’ Eve morning, but luck wasn’t with him-- although his usual carriage was nearly empty again, there was no familiar brown curls, no green-grey jacket and piles of scarf to greet his commute that day. He very briefly entertained the thought of coming to the train on New Years’ Day, but his personal mission this year was to get Lily and James to stay up past Midnight, baby Harry or not, and did not fancy himself dedicated enough to Tripped Guy, no matter how fit, to ride the train at seven while sleep-deprived and viciously hungover.
Then Friday passed with another no-show, and the weekend, and before Sirius knew it, the crowds were back to their normal nightmarish crush, and his commute was back to being the proper morning hellscape.
It felt like a bubble had been popped. Maybe it was that empty train car, or maybe it was the lonely camaraderie of being the only ones on the Underground during the holidays, but the strange magic that had allowed him to talk to and maybe flirt with fit blokes on the Underground disappeared, swallowed by the masses of people.
Sirius resigned himself to squeezing as close to a pole as he could, and of getting elbowed in the stomach and jostled by people pushing their way to the exits. He resigned himself to politely avoiding eye contact and reducing his vocabulary to “‘scuse me” and “sorry” and to being annoyed rather than charmed whenever someone so much as trod on his shoe.
In short, he put his head down, put his shoulders up, and got ready to move on with life.
He did it for a week and a half, until one day, someone’s hand brushed up against his on the overhead straps, and he looked over to see--
Green-grey jacket, brown curls, and a massive pile of scarf, oh fuck it's finally him.
“Oh, sorry,” Tripped Guy said. He didn’t look sorry. There were little smile lines at the corner of his eyes, like he knew exactly what he was doing, with his book held up in one hand and his other brushing up against Sirius’s. He staggered a little, when the train jolted, and that more than anything jolted Sirius into action.
“Here,” he said, switching his hand out on the strap and using his now-free hand to brace Tripped Guy by the shoulder. “Don’t want you falling into anyone else on the Northern Line, do we?”
Tripped Guy leaned into the hand on his shoulder and buried his smile in his scarf. “Can’t have that,” he agreed.
They didn’t talk much after that, with the rattle of the train and the press of the crowd around them, but their fingers brushed every so often, and Sirius’s hand warmed Tripped Guy’s shoulders. Sirius stole glances to catch Tripped Guy stealing glances, and when caught in return couldn’t help his smile.
By the time they were pulling up on his stop, Sirius knew that bubble was back in place. It didn’t matter that he’d been shoved three times, or that the middle-aged woman sitting in the seat in front of him had glared at him the entire time, or that a draft kept getting down his shirt. It was worth it for the way Tripped Guy hadn’t flipped a single page in his book the entire train ride.
“This is me. Same time tomorrow?” Sirius said, clapping Tripped Guy on the shoulder as the train began to slow and the shuffle for the door began.
Immediately the book disappeared, and Tripped Guy began to shuffle in his pocket instead. Sirius waited as long as he dared, but the doors were sliding open by the time Tripped Guy pulled something out of his pocket and shoved it into Sirius’s hand. Sirius opened his hand and saw a scribble of numbers. When he looked back up, Tripped Guy seemed to be flushing again. “Let’s make the next time less crowded, maybe?”
Sirius raised both eyebrows, but his grin would not be suppressed. He curled his hand around the crumpled paper again. “Less crowded than the Northern Line?” he said. “I think I can do that.”
He had to elbow his way off the train after that, but he couldn't find it in himself to mind.
no subject
Date: 2019-12-30 06:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-12-30 10:16 pm (UTC)Sirius seeing this cute stranger and thinking he’d be nice to hug and tuck under his chin reads so genuine - I’ve developed momentary crushes on strangers on the train too. I was hoping together with Sirius he’d get to see him again soon.
I love that Remus had his number written down and ready in his pocket. I think he’d been unsuccessfully trying to run into Sirius for a few days before he finally found him.
Thank you so so much for this adorable gift! ❤️
no subject
Date: 2019-12-30 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-01-06 06:11 am (UTC)