wildestranger (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wildestranger) wrote2005-10-11 11:51 pm
wildestranger) wrote2005-10-11 11:51 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: The Cold is Coming, Remus/Sirius PG-13
The Cold is Coming
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scarvesnhats. 646 words
Both characters are over 18.
The cold is coming. Remus wakes to find the sheets falling off his bed, dewy with frost, and his back itching with the sweat of old dreams. He pushes the bedcurtains aside, but the harsh light of the autumn morning doesn't bring warmth. He gets up.
His feet are slipping on the wooden floorboards, painfully frozen in contact. Remus sees his breath forming strange shapes in the bathroom mirror. Soon it will be cold enough for James and Sirius to start drawing naughty pictures on the glass, things that make Peter blush and Remus smile in the mornings. Remus considers writing something. A surprise for his friends sleeping late, all the more surprising coming from him. But his fingers long for hot water and the steamy air of the shower where he can pretend that he doesn't have to go back to the room and face the breeze coming through the holes in the windows.
: :
The green jumper is thin and worn, and it's too short to keep Remus' back uncovered when he leans on the desk, sitting next to Sirius in Transfiguration. Sirius keeps sending little pieces of paper to tease the sliver of skin revealed, and Remus keeps twitching, trying to push them away and not contort so much that McGonagall will notice. Stillness and then frantic movement, his hands holding on to pen and paper and his elbow brushing Sirius', as he looks for a position that would hide his back. He isn't cold now, but he knows he will be as soon as he steps out of the room, as soon as Sirius stops poking his ribs.
: :
James and Peter have stolen cider from the kitchen. Not the kind drank by local children in the fields close to Hogsmeade, but cider intended for Hogwarts teachers, when misty autumn nights make them long for something spicy and hot. Something to make the blood wild and the lips curve in wild laughter, when boys must run in dark corridors and tell the tale of their fearless escapes to an avid audience. Avid for cider, thinks Remus as Sirius nods and grabs the first bottle. Avid for cinnamon and nutmeg and cardamom, avid for warmth, for jumpers discarded on the floor and laugher so loud the Head Girl comes and complains. For all this, Remus thinks as he watches Sirius drop hot liquid on his chin and watches him lick it away, watches as Sirius sees him watching.
: :
Remus dreads going to bed, the clammy sheets and the dusty curtains, the cloudless nights freezing the air. He puts it off as long as he can, with homework, and waiting the fire to die in the common room. The room is dark when he goes in sometime after midnight, all curtains closed. All except Sirius’.
“Moony? I’m cold.”
Remus grins in the dark. Of course he is. It is freezing outside, after all, and this is Scotland.
“What would you like me to do about it?”
There’s a laugh, not unlike the laugh Remus heard over long nights of the summer, wicked and low and making his blood hum. Now his eyes are used to the dark and he can see Sirius under the covers, lifting his sheets in invitation, pale and naked against the darkness of the curtains.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something to keep me warm. Keep us warm.”
There’s grin in that voice, a grin that used to annoy him but now Remus has other ways of dealing with impertinent Sirius-mouths. He climbs into the bed, and pulls the curtains around them.
: :
The cold is creeping through the windows, climbing under the sheets and peeking through the curtains. But Remus is covered in warm skin and warm boy, and he doesn’t wake up, snuggles closer instead and breathes air that will keep the cold away.
For
scarvesnhats. 646 wordsBoth characters are over 18.
The cold is coming. Remus wakes to find the sheets falling off his bed, dewy with frost, and his back itching with the sweat of old dreams. He pushes the bedcurtains aside, but the harsh light of the autumn morning doesn't bring warmth. He gets up.
His feet are slipping on the wooden floorboards, painfully frozen in contact. Remus sees his breath forming strange shapes in the bathroom mirror. Soon it will be cold enough for James and Sirius to start drawing naughty pictures on the glass, things that make Peter blush and Remus smile in the mornings. Remus considers writing something. A surprise for his friends sleeping late, all the more surprising coming from him. But his fingers long for hot water and the steamy air of the shower where he can pretend that he doesn't have to go back to the room and face the breeze coming through the holes in the windows.
: :
The green jumper is thin and worn, and it's too short to keep Remus' back uncovered when he leans on the desk, sitting next to Sirius in Transfiguration. Sirius keeps sending little pieces of paper to tease the sliver of skin revealed, and Remus keeps twitching, trying to push them away and not contort so much that McGonagall will notice. Stillness and then frantic movement, his hands holding on to pen and paper and his elbow brushing Sirius', as he looks for a position that would hide his back. He isn't cold now, but he knows he will be as soon as he steps out of the room, as soon as Sirius stops poking his ribs.
: :
James and Peter have stolen cider from the kitchen. Not the kind drank by local children in the fields close to Hogsmeade, but cider intended for Hogwarts teachers, when misty autumn nights make them long for something spicy and hot. Something to make the blood wild and the lips curve in wild laughter, when boys must run in dark corridors and tell the tale of their fearless escapes to an avid audience. Avid for cider, thinks Remus as Sirius nods and grabs the first bottle. Avid for cinnamon and nutmeg and cardamom, avid for warmth, for jumpers discarded on the floor and laugher so loud the Head Girl comes and complains. For all this, Remus thinks as he watches Sirius drop hot liquid on his chin and watches him lick it away, watches as Sirius sees him watching.
: :
Remus dreads going to bed, the clammy sheets and the dusty curtains, the cloudless nights freezing the air. He puts it off as long as he can, with homework, and waiting the fire to die in the common room. The room is dark when he goes in sometime after midnight, all curtains closed. All except Sirius’.
“Moony? I’m cold.”
Remus grins in the dark. Of course he is. It is freezing outside, after all, and this is Scotland.
“What would you like me to do about it?”
There’s a laugh, not unlike the laugh Remus heard over long nights of the summer, wicked and low and making his blood hum. Now his eyes are used to the dark and he can see Sirius under the covers, lifting his sheets in invitation, pale and naked against the darkness of the curtains.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something to keep me warm. Keep us warm.”
There’s grin in that voice, a grin that used to annoy him but now Remus has other ways of dealing with impertinent Sirius-mouths. He climbs into the bed, and pulls the curtains around them.
: :
The cold is creeping through the windows, climbing under the sheets and peeking through the curtains. But Remus is covered in warm skin and warm boy, and he doesn’t wake up, snuggles closer instead and breathes air that will keep the cold away.