![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fox_confessorTitle: 'Tis the Season
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
escribo
Rating: PG
Contents or warnings: none but Christmas fluff
Word Count: @1500
Summary: Remus knows he's been an awful good boy this year but he's quite sure it's not Father Christmas whose been decking his halls
It started with a simple wreath, nothing more than a few sprigs of evergreen and a spray of holly berries. Remus found it stuck to the door of his tiny bedsit in Chalk Farm late one night with a sticking charm that he truly hoped wasn't permanent. He suspected James, who had spent the evening previous drinking the last of Remus' wine and moaning about Remus' lack of True Christmas Spirit. "Bah," Remus had said, but left off the humbug because it would have been lost on James, who had never once read a Muggle book.
The wreath smelled good, as if the boughs had been freshly plucked, so Remus left it up though he was firm, if only to himself, that it did nothing to put him in the holiday mood. Three days later, the wreath had gained a ribbon tied with a rather jaunty bow. It was tartan, as if someone (he still suspected James) had stolen one of Professor McGonagall's best robes and shredded it to decorate his door. He truly hoped that wasn't the case but once he'd thought of it, he couldn't get the image of a starkers Minerva out of his head. The sight of the wreath made him blush for a week before the mad wreather struck again, this time adding a gaggle of tiny fairies that glowed prettily in the gloom of the hall.
Peter, who had followed Remus home one night on the promise of receiving some of the rum cake Remus' mum had sent, stopped short when he saw the wreath. "What's with the frippery?"
"Dunno," Remus answered, mentally crossing Peter off his list of suspects. He pulled a napkin from his pocket in which he had saved the crumbs of his biscuit from tea, and began to feed the fairies as Peter watched.
"I didn't know they ate." Peter poked one in her spindly leg and drew back to suck on the tip of his finger when the fairy bit him.
"Usually the holly berries are fine but I thought they might like a bit of cake."
"Do fairies eat cake?"
"'Course they do." Remus didn't actually know, never having had much interest in Care for Magical Creatures, leastways not for such dainty little things as these, but his fairies seemed to like it. He didn't mention that he had named them all, too.
He did tell Lily their names (Francesca, Raphael, Elizabeth, Idalia, Charlotte, and Michael, because he was pretty sure the one nearest the top was a boy) when she stopped by to visit, her cheeks rosy from the wind. She laughed merrily as the fairies flew up and began pecking Remus' face with tiny kisses that left his face glittering. It was only after he'd managed to get them settled back onto the wreath with more crumbs from his lunch that he noticed the mistletoe.
"Bugger."
"I didn't think I'd find you quite this festive." Lily laughed again as she pressed a kiss against his cheek.
"I'm not. I mean, I haven't been. This is James' doing, I'm sure of it."
"He's not usually this subtle. It doesn't look as though anything's exploded."
"Yet," came Remus' ominous reply as he cast a hard look at the mistletoe.
A few days later, the fairies had been joined by a squat little red gnome who seemed rather dejected as he swung his legs over the boughs of evergreen. Its beady little eyes brightened in its potato shaped head when it saw Remus. "Thimbleful of whiskey?" It squeaked hopefully when Remus was close enough to hear.
"I haven't got any," Remus answered, at this point quite beyond being shocked by any addition to the display outside his door. He shifted his bag of groceries to his other hip and leaned closer to inspect the latest inhabitant of his wreath, only to jump back when it pinched his nose.
"I'm not kissing you until I get something to drink," it cried, shaking its finger at Remus.
"I don't want you to kiss me," Remus said as he rubbed his abused nose.
"Have to, don't I." The gnome's voice was gruff as he pointed up to the mistletoe. "Already kissed the fairies, fussy little things. I'll take wine if you have it."
"That's gone as well. I don't suppose you could tell me who left you here."
"I could for a sip of rum."
"I have milk, if it hasn't gone off."
The gnome puckered its ugly little face and gave a bit of a shiver as it crossed its arms over its chest and refused to say anything more.
Nothing new appeared for several days, not that Remus would admit to being the slightest bit interested, until he came home early one night to discover Sirius at his door. "What are you doing? Is that a partridge?"
"They're not easy to find, you know, at least not the sort that sing carols rather than coo."
Remus watched, speechless, as Sirius affixed the bird to the top of the wreath, just above Michael, who was fluttering his wings angrily. "You're the one who's been decking my halls," he finally said as Sirius stepped back to admire his work.
"Just the one."
"Why?"
Sirius shrugged. "Though you might like it. Besides, James said you were sad."
"So you decided the cure for that might be biting fairies and a gnome that pinches my nose?"
"Do the fairies bite?"
"Just Peter, actually. I think they quite like me."
"I thought they might." Sirius leaned forward, barking out a laugh that echoed down the empty hall as the fairies kissed his face, and laughed harder still when Remus smiled at him. "See? It worked. I knew it would."
"What worked?"
"You're happier. You're smiling at least."
"I wasn't sad. I was just--I don't know.
"Just what?
"Not keen on spending the day alone, I guess.
"I thought you were going to your mother's house?"
"She's gone to see her sister so it's just me and the fairies.
"And me."
"What?"
"Me."
"You were going to be with James and his parents. You don't have change your plans for me."
"What if I want to?
"Why would you do that?" Sirius didn't answer but stepped closer, the toes of his shoes bumping against Remus' as he smoothed his hands over Remus' arms. "Sirius?"
"There's mistletoe."
"Because you put it there." Remus tipped his head back to look up at the frippery, as Peter had called it. He looked back at Sirius when Sirius leaned in close to the upturned face before him. Remus could suddenly see everything he felt reflected back in Sirius' eyes, and for a moment felt quite dizzy. "Because you wanted to use it," he whispered.
Sirius nodded once, then brushed his lips against Remus'. Remus didn't move, unsure of whether to pull away or stay--he wanted to stay. He'd wanted this for so long, longer than he was willing to admit even to himself. He was grateful when Sirius didn't let him think too hard. Finding no resistance, Sirius leaned in again, deepening the kiss--his tongue gently stroking Remus' bottom lip, asking admittance, and Remus gave it willingly. Sirius moved even closer, shuffling them both back until Remus' back hit the door and he could feel the fairies fluttering against his neck.
"You didn't--" Remus whispered against Sirius' lips, kissed him, then tried again. "You didn't answer my question."
"I most definitely did." Sirius slid his hands down to cling to Remus' slim hips, his thumbs pressing gentle circles in the denim of Remus' jeans. "You still need to answer mine, though."
"Yours?"
"Will you spend Christmas with me?"
"I always told James you had a dangerous tendency toward becoming a complete sap one day." Remus tried to sound at least half unaffected as he felt, and rather hated that his voice betrayed him.
Sirius smiled against Remus' lips before he drew back and caught one of the fairies (Francesca) from where it was lounging on Remus' shoulder. "Says the man who named his fairies."
"Lily told you about that?"
"She didn't need to. I knew they'd be in good hands, unlike Pete, who would have let them starve. What happened to the gnome?"
"I took it to Wales."
"Wales?"
"He said he always wanted to see it."
"So answer my question," Sirius said, unwilling to give quarter and for once Remus didn't mind the surrender.
"Thank you, for all of this but I--" Remus faltered again, a dozen excuses popped into his mind--the easy outs he always offered to his friends in case they didn't mean what they said, thinking always that he was pitied more than loved. Looking into Sirius' eyes just now, he could believe just this once it had gone the other way around. Remus curled his hands into Sirius' robes and pulled him closer. "Yes," he whispered, "I'd like that very much."
"Merry Christmas, Moony," Sirius whispered before he kissed Remus again, fumbling for the doorknob, both ignoring the partridge as it began a rousing chorus of "Good Wendelin the Weird".
Author:
escriboRating: PG
Contents or warnings: none but Christmas fluff
Word Count: @1500
Summary: Remus knows he's been an awful good boy this year but he's quite sure it's not Father Christmas whose been decking his halls
It started with a simple wreath, nothing more than a few sprigs of evergreen and a spray of holly berries. Remus found it stuck to the door of his tiny bedsit in Chalk Farm late one night with a sticking charm that he truly hoped wasn't permanent. He suspected James, who had spent the evening previous drinking the last of Remus' wine and moaning about Remus' lack of True Christmas Spirit. "Bah," Remus had said, but left off the humbug because it would have been lost on James, who had never once read a Muggle book.
The wreath smelled good, as if the boughs had been freshly plucked, so Remus left it up though he was firm, if only to himself, that it did nothing to put him in the holiday mood. Three days later, the wreath had gained a ribbon tied with a rather jaunty bow. It was tartan, as if someone (he still suspected James) had stolen one of Professor McGonagall's best robes and shredded it to decorate his door. He truly hoped that wasn't the case but once he'd thought of it, he couldn't get the image of a starkers Minerva out of his head. The sight of the wreath made him blush for a week before the mad wreather struck again, this time adding a gaggle of tiny fairies that glowed prettily in the gloom of the hall.
Peter, who had followed Remus home one night on the promise of receiving some of the rum cake Remus' mum had sent, stopped short when he saw the wreath. "What's with the frippery?"
"Dunno," Remus answered, mentally crossing Peter off his list of suspects. He pulled a napkin from his pocket in which he had saved the crumbs of his biscuit from tea, and began to feed the fairies as Peter watched.
"I didn't know they ate." Peter poked one in her spindly leg and drew back to suck on the tip of his finger when the fairy bit him.
"Usually the holly berries are fine but I thought they might like a bit of cake."
"Do fairies eat cake?"
"'Course they do." Remus didn't actually know, never having had much interest in Care for Magical Creatures, leastways not for such dainty little things as these, but his fairies seemed to like it. He didn't mention that he had named them all, too.
He did tell Lily their names (Francesca, Raphael, Elizabeth, Idalia, Charlotte, and Michael, because he was pretty sure the one nearest the top was a boy) when she stopped by to visit, her cheeks rosy from the wind. She laughed merrily as the fairies flew up and began pecking Remus' face with tiny kisses that left his face glittering. It was only after he'd managed to get them settled back onto the wreath with more crumbs from his lunch that he noticed the mistletoe.
"Bugger."
"I didn't think I'd find you quite this festive." Lily laughed again as she pressed a kiss against his cheek.
"I'm not. I mean, I haven't been. This is James' doing, I'm sure of it."
"He's not usually this subtle. It doesn't look as though anything's exploded."
"Yet," came Remus' ominous reply as he cast a hard look at the mistletoe.
A few days later, the fairies had been joined by a squat little red gnome who seemed rather dejected as he swung his legs over the boughs of evergreen. Its beady little eyes brightened in its potato shaped head when it saw Remus. "Thimbleful of whiskey?" It squeaked hopefully when Remus was close enough to hear.
"I haven't got any," Remus answered, at this point quite beyond being shocked by any addition to the display outside his door. He shifted his bag of groceries to his other hip and leaned closer to inspect the latest inhabitant of his wreath, only to jump back when it pinched his nose.
"I'm not kissing you until I get something to drink," it cried, shaking its finger at Remus.
"I don't want you to kiss me," Remus said as he rubbed his abused nose.
"Have to, don't I." The gnome's voice was gruff as he pointed up to the mistletoe. "Already kissed the fairies, fussy little things. I'll take wine if you have it."
"That's gone as well. I don't suppose you could tell me who left you here."
"I could for a sip of rum."
"I have milk, if it hasn't gone off."
The gnome puckered its ugly little face and gave a bit of a shiver as it crossed its arms over its chest and refused to say anything more.
Nothing new appeared for several days, not that Remus would admit to being the slightest bit interested, until he came home early one night to discover Sirius at his door. "What are you doing? Is that a partridge?"
"They're not easy to find, you know, at least not the sort that sing carols rather than coo."
Remus watched, speechless, as Sirius affixed the bird to the top of the wreath, just above Michael, who was fluttering his wings angrily. "You're the one who's been decking my halls," he finally said as Sirius stepped back to admire his work.
"Just the one."
"Why?"
Sirius shrugged. "Though you might like it. Besides, James said you were sad."
"So you decided the cure for that might be biting fairies and a gnome that pinches my nose?"
"Do the fairies bite?"
"Just Peter, actually. I think they quite like me."
"I thought they might." Sirius leaned forward, barking out a laugh that echoed down the empty hall as the fairies kissed his face, and laughed harder still when Remus smiled at him. "See? It worked. I knew it would."
"What worked?"
"You're happier. You're smiling at least."
"I wasn't sad. I was just--I don't know.
"Just what?
"Not keen on spending the day alone, I guess.
"I thought you were going to your mother's house?"
"She's gone to see her sister so it's just me and the fairies.
"And me."
"What?"
"Me."
"You were going to be with James and his parents. You don't have change your plans for me."
"What if I want to?
"Why would you do that?" Sirius didn't answer but stepped closer, the toes of his shoes bumping against Remus' as he smoothed his hands over Remus' arms. "Sirius?"
"There's mistletoe."
"Because you put it there." Remus tipped his head back to look up at the frippery, as Peter had called it. He looked back at Sirius when Sirius leaned in close to the upturned face before him. Remus could suddenly see everything he felt reflected back in Sirius' eyes, and for a moment felt quite dizzy. "Because you wanted to use it," he whispered.
Sirius nodded once, then brushed his lips against Remus'. Remus didn't move, unsure of whether to pull away or stay--he wanted to stay. He'd wanted this for so long, longer than he was willing to admit even to himself. He was grateful when Sirius didn't let him think too hard. Finding no resistance, Sirius leaned in again, deepening the kiss--his tongue gently stroking Remus' bottom lip, asking admittance, and Remus gave it willingly. Sirius moved even closer, shuffling them both back until Remus' back hit the door and he could feel the fairies fluttering against his neck.
"You didn't--" Remus whispered against Sirius' lips, kissed him, then tried again. "You didn't answer my question."
"I most definitely did." Sirius slid his hands down to cling to Remus' slim hips, his thumbs pressing gentle circles in the denim of Remus' jeans. "You still need to answer mine, though."
"Yours?"
"Will you spend Christmas with me?"
"I always told James you had a dangerous tendency toward becoming a complete sap one day." Remus tried to sound at least half unaffected as he felt, and rather hated that his voice betrayed him.
Sirius smiled against Remus' lips before he drew back and caught one of the fairies (Francesca) from where it was lounging on Remus' shoulder. "Says the man who named his fairies."
"Lily told you about that?"
"She didn't need to. I knew they'd be in good hands, unlike Pete, who would have let them starve. What happened to the gnome?"
"I took it to Wales."
"Wales?"
"He said he always wanted to see it."
"So answer my question," Sirius said, unwilling to give quarter and for once Remus didn't mind the surrender.
"Thank you, for all of this but I--" Remus faltered again, a dozen excuses popped into his mind--the easy outs he always offered to his friends in case they didn't mean what they said, thinking always that he was pitied more than loved. Looking into Sirius' eyes just now, he could believe just this once it had gone the other way around. Remus curled his hands into Sirius' robes and pulled him closer. "Yes," he whispered, "I'd like that very much."
"Merry Christmas, Moony," Sirius whispered before he kissed Remus again, fumbling for the doorknob, both ignoring the partridge as it began a rousing chorus of "Good Wendelin the Weird".
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Also, Remus naming his fairies is just too cute for words. <3 I haven't been feeling the holiday cheer much, but this actually makes me feel happy about it being Christmastime. Yay!
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
And yay! Chalk Farm is where my shop is! Lovely area, terrible managers.
no subject
I don't know why I always put the boys in Chalk Farm when I have to put them somewhere. I've never been, but it seems like a lovely sort of spot for boys in love to be.
no subject
this is too sweet.
It was cute and adorable and funny and Merlin's beard why am I not surprised Remus named all of his faeries, you would. I'm also not surprised he took the gnome to Wales, and I found it all sorts of endearing when Sirius was surprised, either. Lily's comment about the degree of subtly also amused me ("It doesn't look as though anything's exploded") and Peter's blunt comment was also fantastically received.
Really, you're just a brilliant writer with brilliant characterization and my Christmas has been made imagining these two pups smooching with faeries flying around their heads like halos. I'm going to be imagining them on Christmas and I will be smiling like a sap and everyone will ask me why I'm smiling so much and I will not be able to answer them.
But you will know.
Wonderful job! <3
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject