small_gifts | FIC: "Keep Me Warm" for justaidan (Reply)

Title: Keep Me Warm
Author:

justaidan
Rating: Hard R (some choice language and not-incredibly-graphic sexual situations)
Prompt: Sirius runs away from home but goes to Remus's instead of James's house.
Summary: There are negative consequences to flying on a winter night. Fortunately, there are positive consequences to warming back up, both inside and out.
Any other notes, warnings, etc.: The boys are still in school, but let's assume they're both 17. Also, Sirius has a foul mouth at times, lol. But I do hope you like it!

Winter holidays are the only time of year that Remus hates his restlessness. Other times of the year, and when he's at Hogwarts, it just makes him feel like a normal teenager – probably the only thing that does make him feel like one. But during the winter, especially during the waxing moon, his restlessness leaves him waking suddenly, shivering in a chilled bed, wishing that he had someone to share his insomnia with.

He groans into his pillow and tries thinking of calming things like poetry and the Hogwarts Lake and his mother's voice. It's only when he hears a tapping at his window that he realizes it isn't his restlessness that has woken him this time.

An owl? This late? he thinks, then groans as he realizes his friends would normally be out raiding the kitchen or sneaking back through one of their tunnels "this late" at school – why wouldn't he be getting owls this late? He makes himself get out of bed, wincing as his feet hit the freezing floorboards of his bedroom, and walks over to the window to let the owl in. But if the shadow Remus sees outside his window is an owl, God save the rabbit and feline population of England.

He blinks the leftover sleep from his eyes and looks again. It's a person. Outside his window. Which is on the second floor. In weather cold enough to freeze the leaves off the trees. Remus throws open the window and is blasted with the cold.

"Sirius?" he asks the bundled, broom-riding figure, as if it were a proper question.

The boy pulls the scarf covering his face down and smiles with dark lips. "M-m-me," he stutters cheerfully.

Remus stares. He considers pinching himself, but he knows this isn't a dream – his dreams about Sirius never make him this cold. Sirius shivers, suddenly and violently, and Remus snaps into responsibility, pushing curiosity away.

"Go down to the front door, I'll let you in."

Sirius nods and vanishes, leaving a blast of stinging cold air in his wake. Remus grabs a jumper off his floor and pulls it on hastily, hurrying down the stairs as quietly as he can manage. He reaches the front door and throws it open, half-expecting to have imagined the whole thing. But no – there stands Sirius, looking for all the world like he's about to collapse on the doorstep.

"What the hell are you –" Remus grabs his hand and gasps. "God, you're ice cold. Get in here." He yanks Sirius's arm and pulls him in the house, catching the broom as it falls from the other boy's stiffening fingers.

"H-h-h-hi, M-moony."

Remus helps him up the stairs, the bitter cold from Sirius's coat seeping into his skin. He hasn't stopped shivering since Remus brought him inside, and Remus knows he has to get him warmer. Fast.

"Here." Remus steers him into the small bathroom. Normally, there's barely room enough for him, but he'll make do. "Take off those clothes before you shiver yourself into a seizure."

Sirius obeys without speaking, a sure sign that something is deeply wrong. The old pipes moan and creak their displeasure as Remus turns the hot tap on full blast. The other boy can't get a grip on the buttons of his cloak, his fingers are shaking so badly, so Remus helps him, thankful at least that Sirius has a jumper and t-shirt on underneath that he can pull off himself. All this time close to Sirius's bare skin is doing things to his mind, things he doesn't usually like to think about, and he pointedly averts his eyes when Sirius lowers his trousers.

Remus turns off the tap and distracts himself from watching Sirius step gingerly into the tub by picking up the bundle of clothes on the floor. Sirius hisses and curses softly as the hot water hits his skin – probably feeling like its boiling to him – but he closes his eyes and lowers himself without complaint.

Remus turns once he's fully immersed and picks up the pile of clothes on the floor. "I'm putting these in the wash, then I'm coming back up and you're going to tell me what this is all about."
Sirius nods, sinking lower in the water until only his nose and eyes are exposed to the air.
Remus heads back downstairs, tiptoeing past his parents' room, and dumps the ice cold clothes in a bin next to their washing machine.

While he's waiting in the kitchen for the kettle to whistle, he takes a moment to consider why Sirius might have flown halfway across the country in the middle of the night and winter. He's either mental or something horrible has happened. Remus hadn't noticed any bruises or lash marks while he was undressing, but then…Sirius's parents aren't likely to use Muggle methods, and Crucio doesn't leave marks. He shudders and wonders briefly if he should Floo St. Mungo's, but he has to take the kettle off before it wakes his mother.

Remus grabs two towels from the linen closet and steps into his room quickly to grab his wand and cast a heating charm on them. He pushes the door to the bathroom open and feels Sirius's eyes on him as he sets the cup of tea on the counter.

"Thanks, Moony," the voice comes from behind him. He hears a rush of displaced water and holds the towels out behind him. He gives Sirius a minute to dry himself, then holds out the tea. When the weight is lifted from his hands, he turns and finds himself staring at his best friend, towels around his waist and shoulders, hair still dripping wet, and showing no traces of having been frozen near to death less than an hour ago.

"Better?" Remus asks, gripping his arm – still a little cool to the touch, but nothing the tea won't fix.

"Much," Sirius says as he reaches down to drain the bathwater. Even now that he's warmed up, he's so much quieter than normal, and Remus remembers that he still has no idea why Sirius is here. He keeps hold of the other boy's arm and pulls him into his room.

Sirius had snagged two things off the bathroom counter, now Remus recognizes one as his wand and the other as…

"Brought your trunk?" Remus asks. Sirius nods as he resizes it. "Planning on staying awhile?"

Sirius looks over, a little sheepish, as if just noticing he's not entitled to everything he wants. "If…if that's alright?"

As if Remus could ever tell him 'no'. He smiles, and Sirius smiles back. He knows what he's about to say is a bad idea, but even the logical part of his mind supports it. "You'll have to sleep in my bed tonight – it's warmer, and you'd scare my mum to death if she found you on the couch."

Sirius grins. "'Course, Moony. It's not like we've never done it before."

Remus manages not to blush at the scenes that start pouring through his head – mornings after a full moon, the night Remus had forgiven him for the Snape Incident and Sirius hadn't wanted to leave his side, and a score of other nights that had resulted in their accidental entanglement during the night and awkward, confused disentanglement in the morning.

Sirius pulls a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms out of his trunk and pulls them on. This time, Remus gives in and stares as his towel drops. For all his discipline, he's still a boy. But his conscience crushes any arousal that has blossomed when it reminds him that Sirius's body may be as fit as ever, but his spirit – his self – is far from it.

"You know," Remus says as he watches Sirius pull on a long-sleeved shirt, "you still haven't told me why you're here and not home making your mum rip her hair out."

The scowl that would have accompanied any mention of Sirius's mother is strangely absent from his friend's face, and Remus knows he's hit on part of the answer.

"Can we get in bed first? I'm still a little cold," Sirius says, avoiding Remus's gaze the best he can.

Remus nods and pulls his sheets back, sliding into his side of the bed. It's cooled since he left it. Sirius slips in next to him and lies on his back, arms crossed behind his head. He sighs, and Remus catches a hint of real emotion in it, not like his usual dramatic sighing. Remus turns on his side and waits.

"I ran away, Remus," he says, calmly and plainly, as though it doesn't bother him at all. But Remus knows it does; if he were really fine, he'd be his bouncy, cheeky, usual self about it. Calm isn't something Sirius does when he's fine.

"Why?"

"More of their usual shite," he snaps, finally a bit of emotion showing in his voice. "They wanted me to go to this party full of sticks-up-their-arses pure-bloods, and oh by the way, meet some French twat that they'll be forcing me to marry."

Remus waits; there must be more. Not that it isn't a valid reason for rejecting his family, but they do this sort of thing to him all the time.

"Plus," Sirius continues, confirming Remus's knowledge, "they were saying things. Things about my…'taste in companions'." He says the last with such disdain that Remus knows it must be verbatim. "I couldn't sit there and take it any more. I told her if I was such a disgrace to the House of Black, then I bet she was glad father had swallowed his disgust and fucked her frigid cunt one more time to give her Regulus because I wouldn't choose her over a dog, much less my friends. Then I threw my signet ring at her."

Remus stared, nearly gaping. "Damn. Don't do anything by halves, do you?"

Sirius didn't respond. "She blasted my name of the family tree, Remus. Like she never had a son at all." He turns on his side, facing Remus, but looking off somewhere over his shoulder. "And he didn't do anything, just shook his head and walked out." He shuts his eyes tight, only a hint of moisture at the corners, and Remus aches to reach out and comfort him.

But the moment passes, and when Sirius opens his eyes again, they are hard and determined. Resigned. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Change the subject, Moony."

Remus can't think of anything as important as the reason Sirius is in Remus's bed instead of his own, but he does as Sirius asks and blurts out the other question that has been running through his mind.

"Why me?" Sirius looks at him oddly and Remus shakes his head. "I mean, why did you come here? You could have been at James's in half the time, and Mrs. Potter dotes on you more than she does him."

Sirius frowns. "I...I'm not sure. I guess I just...thought I would be safer here."

He is slightly taken aback, mostly at anyone being able to associate 'safe' with him, and a little at hearing an answer other than the one he expected. But his mind recovers quickly and makes the connection. "Right, of course; that's the first place your parents will think to look."

Sirius shakes his head. "No. I mean, yes, you're right about my parents, but that's not what I meant." He pauses, and Remus doesn't prod him - Sirius will tell him. He always does. "What I meant was...well, I feel...you make me feel safe, Remus. I know if I showed up half-frozen at Prongs's, he wouldn't have had the slightest idea what to do with me, about the same amount of sense that had me frozen in the first place. A pair of half-wits, Moony, I don't know how you put up with us." He smiles and Remus smiles back. Sirius's face turns pensive again, and there's more. "But you...you took care of me, you always do."

The urge to reach out and stroke his cheek is overwhelming, but Remus keeps his hands from wandering. "I can't help it – you're just so…helpless sometimes." They both chuckle a bit after that, but Remus sees the sorrow creeping back into Sirius's eyes before he shuts them and sighs.

"I don't know why I care, Remus, I really don't."

Remus can't think of anything helpful to say. He knows why Sirius cares – even if they were horrible, they were his family. Mothers are supposed to love unconditionally. Families are meant to stay together. Remus knows Sirius's heart understands that, and that's the reason why he's so hurt.

He moves closer, places a steady, comforting hand on the other boy's shoulder. "You'll always have a family in us, Sirius. You know that, don't you?"

Sirius smiles a pained little smile and nods. He looks surprised when a tear rolls sideways down his cheek, followed by another…
He shivers and moves closer to Remus in the bed. He looks about a second away from begging Remus to hold him. Everything else fades, and Remus's world is abruptly, frighteningly condensed into nothing but the boy shivering next to him.

He can't justify what happens next. All he knows is that Sirius is hurting and he's so warm and so beautiful and Remus just loses his mind. He moves in slowly, brushing away the few tears, leaving faint smears on his cheeks. Sirius blinks and meets his eyes, his breath catching as Remus slides his hand around, cupping one flushed cheek. A little closer and their noses are side-by-side, their eyes closed, and Remus considers it a miracle that their lips come together at all. But when they do, he doesn't consider much else.

Sirius kisses him back with all the fire he usually keeps boiling just under the surface, making his pleasure known with small moans that Remus has always denied getting off to in their dormitory. His mind warns him that this is too sudden, but his body thinks it's been waiting far too long for this…this thing that has been building between them for what seems like decades. Remus tries to pull away to look at Sirius, but the other boy follows his lips and presses in harder and God he's warm now.

The kiss continues and Remus has lost all control of it. Sirius's tongue is in his mouth and all he can do is stroke it with his own and cling to his shoulders. He suddenly finds himself being rolled onto his back, and he briefly panics about falling off the bed. That panic is shoved to the farthest corner of his mind when gravity takes over and fits their hips together with rough perfection.

Sirius's lips move from his mouth to his neck, and Remus gasps in so much air he feels lightheaded. The blood rushing from every corner of his body to his cock doesn't help. Sirius sucks at the skin on his neck and bites down lightly. Remus whimpers and rewards the act by shifting his usually gangly legs so that both their thighs are rubbing exactly the right spot.

Sirius groans loudly. "Fuck," he whispers, "yes, Remus. Wanted this…need…"
He thrusts against Remus and words lose their meaning.

Remus knows Sirius needs this, needs to feel in control of something – anything – and Remus is only too happy to give that to him. Yes, he gives, and takes, takes everything Sirius is giving him. He presses his thigh more firmly in between the legs surrounding it, rolling his hips up almost desperately. Nothing has ever felt this good.

Until a hand wriggles between them and grips him. Hard. Remus cries out into Sirius's neck and comes instantly, forcing his hands up the back of Sirius's shirt and digging his fingers in brutally. Sirius needs a few more thrusts, but then he's biting down on Remus's shoulder, slowing the rhythm of his hips until they stop altogether.

Neither boy says a word. Remus's fingers are still embedded into the muscles of Sirius's back, and Sirius face is still pressed against Remus's neck. Remus doesn't even want to breathe, afraid to break whatever has just happened between them, but eventually Sirius shifts above him, reaching for something. A whisper, and the space between them is clean again. Sirius presses a kiss underneath Remus's ear, slides off of him, but not far from him. Their legs remain entwined, their arms somehow fit together, and yes, things will be alright.

***************************************************

Mary Lupin stands at the threshold of her son's bedroom, a soaking wet Rolling Stones t-shirt in her hands. She had come up to question her son about the mysterious set of clothes in the laundry basket, but that's not why she stays. Remus is laying on his back, which is unusual for him; but even more unusual is the boy tucked snugly into his side, Remus's arm wrapped tight around him. Both are bare-chested, their shirts lay haphazardly at the bedside, and from the way they're holding one another, she knows this is more than a friendly sharing of a bed.

She feels a shock run through her, but it is more of seeing her son in such an…adult fashion, than realizing the person he's chosen is another boy. She has suspected that at least – a mother always knows. The black-haired one – Sirius, she thinks – shifts against Remus in his sleep, pressing closer, his face burrowing in the gap between Remus's neck and shoulder. She should wake them, demand an explanation, make them fumble and blush with mortification.

But she can't. Not when they look so right, so content. She hasn't seen her son look so peaceful since he was small; she can't destroy that. Backing out of the doorway, she smiles, closes the door softly, and heads back downstairs to soak up the warmth of the kitchen and set another place at the table.