"White Tie and Tails" fanfic for gollisd
Dec. 11th, 2007 09:25 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
ekaterin24.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
small_giftsTitle:White Tie and Tails
Author:Beth/![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ekaterin24
Written for:gollisd
Rating:PG-13 for making out and for implied sexual activity
Prompt:AU - muggles, Impressionism, dancing (I did all three, though just a touch of Impressionism
Summary:Remus wants to go to the Alumni Ball but has to convince Sirius and needs appropriate clothes.
Any other notes, warnings, etc.:This is an ordinary Muggles-only universe (ours, pretty much). Time is mid-1980s or so.
Remus was sorting through the mail.
"The Alumni Ball is on Boxing Day night. Shall we go, Sirius?” he asked his companion, who was draped over their leather sofa. “They have two bands—one playing “contemporary” dance music—I assume that means rock and alternative—and the other playing “traditional.” I've heard of the “traditional” band—they're the best swing- and ballroom-dance band England.”
Sirius twisted to squint critically at the invitation Remus was waving. “You want to sit in a room with a pack of codgers listening to Glen Dorsey and watching middle-aged ladies waltz around like sequined sausages?”
“That's Glen Miller or... why do I bother?” Remus muttered under his breath. “You're always on about how I don't like to have a social life and never attend alumni events," he continued out loud. "Here's one I actually want to attend and you're dragging your heels.”
“By a social life, I mean going to certain clubs where I can actually dance with you, not the alumni ball where I'll be accosted by single former classmates still hopelessly throwing themselves at me. And meanwhile, you'll be kind enough to dance with those middle-aged ladies if you aren't...too tired.” Sirius hated to even hint at Remus' manic-depressive episodes, which had controlled much of his life since his youth. Sirius had known about them by the time they'd fallen for each other, even though Remus had tried to hide his depression by feigning tiredness, and his manic episodes with excuses like “Drank one too many colas today.”
“You can dance with anyone you want,” Remus responded. “I simply want to hear some live music and enjoy an evening out with you someplace where I don't have to worry about men pinching my bum.” He folded his arms.
“Someone pinched your bum at a club? And you didn't permit me to avenge your honor—and mine? That handsome arse,” Sirius insisted, eyeing it appreciateively, “is mine alone to pinch.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “Sirius, you're not some medieval knight out to avenge his lady, you're merely the son of a younger son of a twentieth-century peer of the realm. And I'm not your lady fair, I'm a scholarship lad turned half-barmy proofreader.”
Not that again. It was about time for another slide into depression, unfortunately. “Enough of that. You are my gentleman fair.” Sirius caught his lover in a half-strangle, half-embrace, lips barely touching Remus' temple. “And those new drugs are keeping you on the psychological straight and narrow these days.”
“Narrow, at any rate.” The corner of Remus' mouth turned up slightly.
Much better. Now, to bring him around completely. Heavy sigh first, so he wouldn't think he'd won so easily. “I suppose we can go, and listen to songs that were a hit before your mother was born.” At that, Sirius launched into "Your Mother Should Know," grabbing Remus to dance with him to the old Beatles tune. His partner joined in (rather more on key) as they whirled about the sitting room. Sirius was grinning, and Remus smiling slightly, when they fell together onto the sofa. “I still want to dance with you though, as you can see,” Sirius insisted. “Perhaps once the old moos have all fallen asleep beside their gin-and-tonics. Or we can come home and dance. When's this over?” He nipped up the invitation from the floor. “One a.m. Brilliant. They'll all be out before midnight.” Sirius read on. “And it's white tie. We must purchase appropriate garments for you,” he declared. “As you just handed in your last assignment, we can visit my tailor first thing tomorrow.”
“'First thing' meaning at noon—uh, your tailor? I can rent a perfectly—”
“—awful tuxedo from that place James forced me to rent mine for his wedding. I shan't wear anything so... polyester...again in my life.”
“It isn't as if I've never worn polyester before.”
“You know you hate it. And I hate it. And you never let me buy you clothes except for birthdays and Christmas—that's it! Let this be your Christmas present. Decent formal wear and the—" Sirius shuddered dramatically— “Alumni Ball.”
The next day, well after noon actually, they were in an small but exclusive men's clothing establishment hushed with Persian carpets and rolls of fine wool and silk. Remus was being measured meticulously by a man in a better suit than he'd ever owned himself.
“The medium dove-grey, then,” a second, even more elegantly dressed man was saying to Sirius. “A pleasure to serve you and your—” barely a pause, “good friend.”
Sirius nodded and checked on how his 'good friend' was surviving his ordeal. Head slightly down, Remus was still and silent. On a downswing? His brow wrinkled. Please let him not be too high or low the day of the ball. Even with these medications it still breaks through.
The final fitting was on the twenty-third. First, Sirius tried on the waistcoat he'd requested for himself a couple of weeks ago while Remus had been sequestered for his first fitting.
“What do you think?” Sirius asked, turning elegantly to show off his purchase.
“It's...amazing.”
“It's Monet. From an exclusive line of silk waistcoats based on famous artists. We agreed that a sunny Impressionistic print would suit my brilliant personality. Now, it's your turn to be the debonair model.”
The tailor ushered Remus into the mirror-lined fitting room. After a few moments, Sirius heard a familiar gasp. Remus must be especially surprised—and pleased—with how he looks, he thought, grinning. “Come out; time to do your turn on the floor,” he called.
The door slowly opened, and out stepped his beloved in an elegantly cut swallowtail coat and trousers, the cream-colored shirt and tie complementing the suit—and Remus—perfectly. He looked like the romantic lead in an old black-and-white movie.
“Damn,” Sirius breathed.
Meanwhile, the lead tailor bent forward to fuss with the hems of Remus' trousers, obstructing Sirius' view.
“They're even.” The tailor rose and brushed off his knees unobtrusively. “Is it all right, sir?” he asked Remus, who responded after a moment with a nod and an, “Excellent, thank you.”
“We'll package that for you once you've finished changing, sir,”
Remus returned to the dressing room, Sirius looking after him regretfully.
“Does it meet with your approval also, Mr. Black?”
“Indeed it does,” Sirius gave the tailor one of his best grins.
Remus resisted Sirius' numerous suggestions that he try on the suit again at home. “It's a Christmas gift,” he responded. “So I shouldn't wear it until then.”
Sirius was up at the unholy hour of eight on Christmas morning. He walked into the kitchen where Remus was fixing tea, holding up the suit on its wooden hanger with a ribbon tied haphazardly on the hook. “Happy Christmas!”
“Happy Christmas to you!” Remus seemed to be blessedly in an upswing, just enough to be appropriately cheery for the holidays. “Thank you! It not a surprise of course, but it's much appreciated.” Remus rose and kissed Sirius briefly but warmly.
“Here! Put it on!”
“Now? What for?” Remus looked down at his dressing gown and green-striped pyjamas, his traditional Christmas wear.
“I want to see you in it again.”
“You'll see me tomorrow.”
“Yes, but once you have it on tomorrow night, we might not have time for...you just put it on, go on.”
Remus searched Sirius' face curiously a moment. Then his golden-brown eyes lit like lamps. “In that case, you must wear yours too,” he responded with the hint of a grin.
“Very well.”
Sirius snatched his own suit from his closet and slipped into the bathroom to change. He came out just as Remus was finishing with his tie.
“Here.” Sirius gave the fabric a last twist and knot. It sat just slightly askew. “Now let me look at you.” He stood back, hands at Remus' wool-clad shoulders.
“I feel as though my dad were making sure my school uniform fits correctly.” Remus made a face.
“Oh? Let me dispel that illusion...” Sirius pulled Remus close, nibbled at his earlobe, and bent his head a bit more to tenderly sink his teeth into that flawless fair throat.
“Careful of—ooh.” Remus loosened his collar with one hand, slipping the other one beneath his lover's coattails.
An hour later they sat down to breakfast and a fresh pot of tea. Then Remus presented his gifts to Sirius—including a certificate to treat both of them to a “club evening” with Sirius detailed to be Official Protector of Remus' Bum.
The ball was a night full of surprises, all of them pleasant. Remus attracted as much feminine attention as Sirius when they arrived. Later, one of Remus' former tormentors, who had become obnoxiously drunk, was 'escorted' out the back door just as Remus and Sirius had finished a quick snog in the darkness. And by eleven, the alcove in the “traditional” ballroom was and neglected enough for two men to hold each other and sway to “Moonlight Serenade.”
"Thank you," Remus murmured, his lips brushing Sirius' ear.
"For what?" Sirius chuckled. "I've been waiting for an excuse to get you into a white tie and tails. I knew you'd be much sexier than that skinny bloke in the old movies."
Remus led them both into a half-turn as the music spun off into a last flourish before ending.
"May I have the next dance?" he asked.
Sirius grinned, more vibrant than his waistcoat in full light. "I'm yours all night."
Author:Beth/
ekaterin24Written for:
gollisdRating:PG-13 for making out and for implied sexual activity
Prompt:AU - muggles, Impressionism, dancing (I did all three, though just a touch of Impressionism
Summary:Remus wants to go to the Alumni Ball but has to convince Sirius and needs appropriate clothes.
Any other notes, warnings, etc.:This is an ordinary Muggles-only universe (ours, pretty much). Time is mid-1980s or so.
Remus was sorting through the mail.
"The Alumni Ball is on Boxing Day night. Shall we go, Sirius?” he asked his companion, who was draped over their leather sofa. “They have two bands—one playing “contemporary” dance music—I assume that means rock and alternative—and the other playing “traditional.” I've heard of the “traditional” band—they're the best swing- and ballroom-dance band England.”
Sirius twisted to squint critically at the invitation Remus was waving. “You want to sit in a room with a pack of codgers listening to Glen Dorsey and watching middle-aged ladies waltz around like sequined sausages?”
“That's Glen Miller or... why do I bother?” Remus muttered under his breath. “You're always on about how I don't like to have a social life and never attend alumni events," he continued out loud. "Here's one I actually want to attend and you're dragging your heels.”
“By a social life, I mean going to certain clubs where I can actually dance with you, not the alumni ball where I'll be accosted by single former classmates still hopelessly throwing themselves at me. And meanwhile, you'll be kind enough to dance with those middle-aged ladies if you aren't...too tired.” Sirius hated to even hint at Remus' manic-depressive episodes, which had controlled much of his life since his youth. Sirius had known about them by the time they'd fallen for each other, even though Remus had tried to hide his depression by feigning tiredness, and his manic episodes with excuses like “Drank one too many colas today.”
“You can dance with anyone you want,” Remus responded. “I simply want to hear some live music and enjoy an evening out with you someplace where I don't have to worry about men pinching my bum.” He folded his arms.
“Someone pinched your bum at a club? And you didn't permit me to avenge your honor—and mine? That handsome arse,” Sirius insisted, eyeing it appreciateively, “is mine alone to pinch.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “Sirius, you're not some medieval knight out to avenge his lady, you're merely the son of a younger son of a twentieth-century peer of the realm. And I'm not your lady fair, I'm a scholarship lad turned half-barmy proofreader.”
Not that again. It was about time for another slide into depression, unfortunately. “Enough of that. You are my gentleman fair.” Sirius caught his lover in a half-strangle, half-embrace, lips barely touching Remus' temple. “And those new drugs are keeping you on the psychological straight and narrow these days.”
“Narrow, at any rate.” The corner of Remus' mouth turned up slightly.
Much better. Now, to bring him around completely. Heavy sigh first, so he wouldn't think he'd won so easily. “I suppose we can go, and listen to songs that were a hit before your mother was born.” At that, Sirius launched into "Your Mother Should Know," grabbing Remus to dance with him to the old Beatles tune. His partner joined in (rather more on key) as they whirled about the sitting room. Sirius was grinning, and Remus smiling slightly, when they fell together onto the sofa. “I still want to dance with you though, as you can see,” Sirius insisted. “Perhaps once the old moos have all fallen asleep beside their gin-and-tonics. Or we can come home and dance. When's this over?” He nipped up the invitation from the floor. “One a.m. Brilliant. They'll all be out before midnight.” Sirius read on. “And it's white tie. We must purchase appropriate garments for you,” he declared. “As you just handed in your last assignment, we can visit my tailor first thing tomorrow.”
“'First thing' meaning at noon—uh, your tailor? I can rent a perfectly—”
“—awful tuxedo from that place James forced me to rent mine for his wedding. I shan't wear anything so... polyester...again in my life.”
“It isn't as if I've never worn polyester before.”
“You know you hate it. And I hate it. And you never let me buy you clothes except for birthdays and Christmas—that's it! Let this be your Christmas present. Decent formal wear and the—" Sirius shuddered dramatically— “Alumni Ball.”
The next day, well after noon actually, they were in an small but exclusive men's clothing establishment hushed with Persian carpets and rolls of fine wool and silk. Remus was being measured meticulously by a man in a better suit than he'd ever owned himself.
“The medium dove-grey, then,” a second, even more elegantly dressed man was saying to Sirius. “A pleasure to serve you and your—” barely a pause, “good friend.”
Sirius nodded and checked on how his 'good friend' was surviving his ordeal. Head slightly down, Remus was still and silent. On a downswing? His brow wrinkled. Please let him not be too high or low the day of the ball. Even with these medications it still breaks through.
The final fitting was on the twenty-third. First, Sirius tried on the waistcoat he'd requested for himself a couple of weeks ago while Remus had been sequestered for his first fitting.
“What do you think?” Sirius asked, turning elegantly to show off his purchase.
“It's...amazing.”
“It's Monet. From an exclusive line of silk waistcoats based on famous artists. We agreed that a sunny Impressionistic print would suit my brilliant personality. Now, it's your turn to be the debonair model.”
The tailor ushered Remus into the mirror-lined fitting room. After a few moments, Sirius heard a familiar gasp. Remus must be especially surprised—and pleased—with how he looks, he thought, grinning. “Come out; time to do your turn on the floor,” he called.
The door slowly opened, and out stepped his beloved in an elegantly cut swallowtail coat and trousers, the cream-colored shirt and tie complementing the suit—and Remus—perfectly. He looked like the romantic lead in an old black-and-white movie.
“Damn,” Sirius breathed.
Meanwhile, the lead tailor bent forward to fuss with the hems of Remus' trousers, obstructing Sirius' view.
“They're even.” The tailor rose and brushed off his knees unobtrusively. “Is it all right, sir?” he asked Remus, who responded after a moment with a nod and an, “Excellent, thank you.”
“We'll package that for you once you've finished changing, sir,”
Remus returned to the dressing room, Sirius looking after him regretfully.
“Does it meet with your approval also, Mr. Black?”
“Indeed it does,” Sirius gave the tailor one of his best grins.
Remus resisted Sirius' numerous suggestions that he try on the suit again at home. “It's a Christmas gift,” he responded. “So I shouldn't wear it until then.”
Sirius was up at the unholy hour of eight on Christmas morning. He walked into the kitchen where Remus was fixing tea, holding up the suit on its wooden hanger with a ribbon tied haphazardly on the hook. “Happy Christmas!”
“Happy Christmas to you!” Remus seemed to be blessedly in an upswing, just enough to be appropriately cheery for the holidays. “Thank you! It not a surprise of course, but it's much appreciated.” Remus rose and kissed Sirius briefly but warmly.
“Here! Put it on!”
“Now? What for?” Remus looked down at his dressing gown and green-striped pyjamas, his traditional Christmas wear.
“I want to see you in it again.”
“You'll see me tomorrow.”
“Yes, but once you have it on tomorrow night, we might not have time for...you just put it on, go on.”
Remus searched Sirius' face curiously a moment. Then his golden-brown eyes lit like lamps. “In that case, you must wear yours too,” he responded with the hint of a grin.
“Very well.”
Sirius snatched his own suit from his closet and slipped into the bathroom to change. He came out just as Remus was finishing with his tie.
“Here.” Sirius gave the fabric a last twist and knot. It sat just slightly askew. “Now let me look at you.” He stood back, hands at Remus' wool-clad shoulders.
“I feel as though my dad were making sure my school uniform fits correctly.” Remus made a face.
“Oh? Let me dispel that illusion...” Sirius pulled Remus close, nibbled at his earlobe, and bent his head a bit more to tenderly sink his teeth into that flawless fair throat.
“Careful of—ooh.” Remus loosened his collar with one hand, slipping the other one beneath his lover's coattails.
An hour later they sat down to breakfast and a fresh pot of tea. Then Remus presented his gifts to Sirius—including a certificate to treat both of them to a “club evening” with Sirius detailed to be Official Protector of Remus' Bum.
The ball was a night full of surprises, all of them pleasant. Remus attracted as much feminine attention as Sirius when they arrived. Later, one of Remus' former tormentors, who had become obnoxiously drunk, was 'escorted' out the back door just as Remus and Sirius had finished a quick snog in the darkness. And by eleven, the alcove in the “traditional” ballroom was and neglected enough for two men to hold each other and sway to “Moonlight Serenade.”
"Thank you," Remus murmured, his lips brushing Sirius' ear.
"For what?" Sirius chuckled. "I've been waiting for an excuse to get you into a white tie and tails. I knew you'd be much sexier than that skinny bloke in the old movies."
Remus led them both into a half-turn as the music spun off into a last flourish before ending.
"May I have the next dance?" he asked.
Sirius grinned, more vibrant than his waistcoat in full light. "I'm yours all night."
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no subject
Date: 2007-12-20 01:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-20 01:34 pm (UTC)Your R/S icon is simply beautiful.
note from the author...
Date: 2007-12-20 01:36 pm (UTC)I forgot to add, many thanks to my beta,
no subject
Date: 2007-12-20 02:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-21 04:33 pm (UTC)also, I like your fun Doctor icon!
no subject
Date: 2007-12-20 03:53 pm (UTC)Such lovely images, I wish I could draw, White tie and 'Moonlight Serenade' and Monet, such a great place to end it :)
no subject
Date: 2007-12-21 04:35 pm (UTC)"Moonlight Serenade" is my favorite big-band tune. Very sentimental for me--it was our father/daughter dance song at my wedding. I'm sure Remus and Sirius found it very romantic.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-20 06:24 pm (UTC)I also have much love for manic-depressive Remus (and how Sirius finds ways to cheer him up), and their banter. ♥
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Date: 2007-12-21 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-20 06:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-21 04:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-20 08:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-21 04:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-20 09:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-21 04:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-21 03:12 am (UTC)I started choking on my drink when I read that, I was laughing so hard.
This is quite awesome! I love the boys going clothes shopping and Remus getting quite a bit of attention from the new clothes. Very nice!
no subject
Date: 2007-12-21 04:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 08:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 02:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-23 05:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 12:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 12:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 06:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 10:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 12:28 pm (UTC)And I simply couldn't write an R/S story without at least some snuggling!
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Date: 2008-01-06 04:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-07 01:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-20 07:24 pm (UTC)“Indeed it does,” Sirius gave the tailor one of his best grins.
That had me laughing out loud!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-21 01:01 pm (UTC)