Nov. 15th, 2013 02:04 pm
Fic: Pillow Forts (HP: Remus/Sirius)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fox_confessorTitle: Pillow forts
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
escribo
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: ridiculous nicknames
Word Count: 2624ish
Summary: It's cold, Remus is running late, and Sirius is about to make him later.
Notes: Written for the 2013![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rs_games for Team MWPP
It was cold, the first really cold morning of autumn, and Sirius, barely awake to begin with, squeezed his eyes shut tight, determined to find his way back to his dreams. It was too early on a Saturday morning to be up and about but he knew he would be the only one of his dorm mates still in bed. James, the absolute nutter, would be at Quidditch practice even with frost on the ground, with Peter tagging along behind as always. Remus had more sense and enjoyed a proper lie in but Duty in the form of detention with Madame Pince had forced him up. If it was ten degrees warmer, Sirius would feel guilty about that since it'd been his prank. As it was, he simply burrowed more thoroughly into his pile of blankets and pillows, content to stay in bed until at least noon.
At least, he would be if he could figure out a way to ignore Remus, but he'd never been successful at it before. Of course, it would probably help if he even bothered trying.
Cracking one eye open, Sirius looked at a lanky Remus where he stood in front of the wood burning stove, his fingers spread wide as he tried to catch what little heat emanated from the barely glowing embers. His eyes were closed, his long nose dipping down as his head bobbed in sleep before he jerked upright. He began mumbling to himself, the words of a half forgotten spell spinning their way to Sirius and it took him several minutes to piece together what it was meant to be.
"You're rubbish at anything practical, Moony," Sirius slurred, coughing once to clear his throat and then rubbing his own nose with the back of his hand. He followed up his complaint with a poorly aimed pillow that landed several feet short of its mark. He'd never get back to sleep with Remus chattering his way through a warming charm, looking so adorably pathetic.
"You're one to talk," Remus groused, kicking at the pillow. He rubbed his hands over his face and shivered in his just too short pajama bottoms, sounding as miserable as he looked. "I'm too cold to remember the middle bits."
"Spell's no good without the middle bits."
"I know."
"What time do you have to be in the library?"
"Nine."
"What time is it now?"
"Eight."
"Why are you up so early?" Sirius asked with the world weary voice of one who understood that detention at nine meant sleeping until 8:55, followed by a sprint through the castle that would wake him up before he got there.
Remus only frowned at him in answer. Sirius had lied earlier and they both knew it: Remus did practical really very well.
Sirius tugged his blankets more firmly around his shoulders, watching Remus as he reluctantly moved away from the weak warmth of the stove to root around in the trunk at the end of his bed for a jumper and a pair of trousers clean enough to wear, sniffing each in turn. He didn't dress, though, just clutched his clothes against his chest and returned to his spot in front of the stove.
"Since you've so much time," Sirius began when it became obvious that Remus might have fallen asleep standing up again, "will you bring me some toast and tea, my lovely little crumpet?"
"Get up and get it yourself," Remus answered, his voice gruff as he turned to warm up his backside but Sirius could see the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Remus' hair was grown long, longer than he'd ever worn it before, sticking up in tufts from sleep. Sirius liked it quite a bit. In fact, he liked all of Remus quite a bit.
"You know I'm a delicate flower, my sweet limpet," Sirius added. He especially liked how Remus would usually act all offended when Sirius called him by pet names but then cave so readily to any request Sirius made of him. He suspected that meant Remus quite liked Sirius as well since he would just tell James to bugger off when he tried the same. "I'll shrivel up and die if I have to get up. Wither and turn to dust. You'd have it on your conscious for years."
"I suppose I'll muddle through the dark stretch of time somehow."
"You won't. You'll pine for me. You'll always wonder if, but for the want of tea and toast, I might have lived forever."
"No more poetry for you before bed," Remus mumbled, only just loud enough for Sirius to hear.
"Oh ye! who, sunk in beds of down / feel not a want but what yourselves create, / Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate, whom friends and fortune quite disown!" Sirius recited Burns in a brogue nearly as heavy as Remus' own, pouting when Remus only just laughed at him. "Come on my soggy biscuit dipped in tea," he wheedled, which actually sometimes worked. "I'm hungry. Have you no feelings?"
"For you?" Remus asked, turning his eyes back to what remained of the fire though he sounded suspiciously breathless.
"You wound this wretch, already crushed low / by cruel Fortune's undeserved blow." Burns and the brogue again, more McGonagall this time than Lupin, but Sirius still thought it passable. He was off the tea and toast anyway as the sight of Remus pitifully poking at the dying embers with the scroll of Peter's half-finished Muggle Studies essay made another plan take shape in Sirius' mind.
Sirius lifted the corner of his duvet and motioned Remus over. "If you won't feed me, my darling speckled pudding, come warm me up."
That apparently took Remus' mind off his frozen toes. At least, Sirius was willing to bet ten galleons that it wasn't the cold that sent a shiver through Remus. He'd double it based on the dark look in Remus' eyes that Sirius' instinct was right: on at least one occasion Remus has thought about having his way with Sirius. In fact, Sirius would wager his favorite dragonhide boots that Remus was thinking about it right now.
"Warm you up?" Remus asked, but his eyes were sliding down Sirius' body, what he could see of it. "I'm frozen to the core. Madame Pince is going to have to defrost my hands before she puts me to work."
"Then you'll be doing her a favor, too, if you come over here."
Remus looked over first one shoulder and then the other, though they were perfectly alone and not likely to be bothered. He squinted at Sirius then, weighing, Sirius imagined, how serious Sirius was being. Sirius, torn between wondering if looking sexy or pouting would get him further, did both. It seemed to do the trick.
"This is weird," Remus whispered.
"Is it?" They were nose-to-nose once they had twisted and turned, shifting enough to fit two grown boys on one small bed. There was nothing for it but to put their arms around one another, which they did, and tangle their legs together, which they did. It wasn't uncomfortable, Sirius noted—at least, he wasn't uncomfortable.
"You don't think so?"
"No."
Up close, Remus smelled even better than he usually did, of warm beds and cold days, of tea and books of poetry, of wood smoke and mischief. Mischief, Sirius thought, definitely had a scent and it was wonderful. He moved impossibly closer, burying his nose against Remus' collar bone and closed his eyes as he breathed in deeply.
"What are you doing?" Remus' voice was pitched a good octave higher than usual but it didn't stop him, Sirius noted, from sliding his frozen hands beneath the material of Sirius' t-shirt. He had long fingers, which Sirius had definitely noticed before, that were calloused from his work in the greenhouses. Sirius trembled when they moved slowly up and down his spine and raised his head so that he could see Remus' face.
"It's all right," he whispered, "James and I used to do it all the time."
"Used to?" Remus breathed out, the rush of air warm against Sirius' lips.
Sirius took a moment to repeat those words in his head. He hadn't meant for them to sound so naughty. He'd thought about doing this once or twice with James when he first turned thirteen and discovered his mum was completely wrong about what would happen if he masturbated, but nothing had come of it. After a couple of weeks nursing a very awkward crush, Sirius had made some life altering decisions: he truly did love James just like a brother and Remus' accent was dead sexy even when he was talking about the properties of dragon dung or yelling at James for vomiting in the bathtub. Four years later, they were still truths that he lived by.
"Long time ago," he promised, nuzzling his nose against Remus' neck. "And not… I didn't mean… We didn't… I'm still cold."
"Can't be. I'm burning up."
"But I am, my rasher of crispy bacon."
"You're utterly ridiculous."
"Eh, you like it."
"Merlin help me, I do."
"I knew it."
Their first kiss was… alright, it was a little weird. The angle was wrong and Remus had his eyes open, which Sirius could tell even though his were closed, and he kept them closed as he drew back just a tiny bit. He meant to ask if it was alright or to apologize or something, but then Remus surged up and kissed back hard, his hand rising up to tangle into the back of Sirius' hair. It was perfect after that for a long time, and Sirius never wanted to move again.
"Warm now," Remus whispered after a while, and Sirius nodded, too happy to answer properly when Remus began sucking on Sirius' lower lip. Sirius leaned forward, his nose pressed into Remus' cheek and his hands pushing past layers of flannel sheets and cotton pajamas to find Remus' hips and drag him forward. Remus hummed, his tongue swiping at Sirius', and then there were Remus' sharp canines again, biting and sucking at Sirius' lip, soothing before releasing him, leaving Sirius' lips swollen when he pulled back a bit.
Sirius swallowed hard, searching Remus' face, before he managed a smirk, "You're going to be late. She'll flog you with dictionaries. Hang you by your toes in the reference section."
"I'll tell her it was your fault. She'll believe me."
"That she would, my dollop of clotted cream."
"I can't believe how hard that turns me on." Remus took Sirius' head between his hands and began again, encouraging them both to nip with their teeth, their noses bumping together as they fought for dominance. Sirius finally gave a little, finding his white flag somewhere over the smooth skin of Remus' chest as he pushed his hands and the top of Remus' pajamas higher.
Remus had given up warfare for exploration, as his hand sank lower and then down past the waist of Sirius' bottoms. For many minutes, they just touched and kissed, the excitement of it leaving them both shivering as they sweated beneath the piles of blankets on Sirius' bed. Sirius couldn't believe he had waited this long but decided then and there that this was it. He wanted Remus—would always want Remus.
"I love you, Remus," he stuttered out against the pulse in Remus' throat, his teeth grazing gently over Remus' skin as Remus drew in a thick breath, his hips thrusting against Sirius' thigh.
"Sirius—"
"No, just shut it, yeah? I just want—"
"I love you, too."
For a moment, Sirius just stared at Remus, and Remus stared back. It seemed both impossible and inevitable, something Sirius never hoped for and yet the only truth that he could ever know. It made him smile, then laugh, burying his face into Remus' shoulder as Remus held him, petted his hair until Sirius could breathe again.
"I love you, my dearest little fried sausage."
"Oh, there you are. Thought you'd gone 'round the bend for a moment."
"Only ever for you."
They kissed again, Sirius himself once more as he was confident of his prize. He pressed the back of Remus' hands into the mattress and then slid down, pressing his kisses over Remus' chest, his soft belly, following the line of hair until it disappeared into Remus' pajama bottoms. He lifted back up to kiss Remus' mouth once more.
Sirius gasped for breath as they broke the kiss and Remus moved to press his lips over Sirius' jaw and down his neck, his own hands following a similar path that Sirius had just made. He was less shy, though, his fingers sure of their destination and none too gentle. He made a triumphant sound when he found Sirius' cock, curling his fingers over hot, hardening flesh. Sirius felt his stomach tighten, his thoughts careening from too long to too fast, and he groaned when Remus agreed with him and wondered if he'd said it out loud, and what else he'd said without knowing.
Before he could think about it too hard, Remus slid his hand away and replaced it with his thigh, pushing Sirius' legs apart, and Sirius went willingly. He chased after Remus' kisses now, though Remus didn't allow them for long; his lips ticked up into a wicked smile, the bow of his mouth red and swollen, too, before he latched onto Sirius' neck, pushing down the fabric of his shirt to lick at Sirius' collarbone. Remus's hands were suddenly everywhere again: under Sirius's arms and behind his shoulders, tugging off his top, tipping his neck, and sliding down the back of Sirius's bottoms.
Sirius searched for something of his own to grip, knocking first the remaining pillow off the bed, then the tangle of blankets before giving up altogether and reaching again for Remus, his hands going tight around Remus's shoulders, arching up into him. His cock ached, needing more friction, more pressure, more of everything, and finally Remus gave it to him, gave everything to him, shoving against his body and against the mattress, the headboard, until Sirius' breath was pushed from him, and grabbing Sirius' leg to wrap around his hip and rock against him with thrusts like exclamation points until they were both coming, Sirius first, nearly biting into the hard flesh of Remus' shoulder to keep from screaming, and then Remus, with a breathy nhuh of pleasure wet against Sirius' ear.
For a long time they laid still, trying to remember how their lungs work, shaking as the sweat and the sticky mess between them cooled on their bodies.
"I suppose--" Sirius began but has to stop, huffing out his breath as he gathered Remus closer for a hug then pushed him away again, still prickly hot. By the time he was sure he could talk, he had already forgotten what he was originally going to say. "You should go, I guess."
"I want to stay."
"She'll give you double if you're late."
"I think it'll be worth it."
"Do you?"
"Absolutely."
"You are rubbish at being practical."
"Sirius Black scolding me about being practical. This might honestly be the end of the world. It would explain why it's so bloody cold."
"It is cold," Sirius said as he dove over the side of the bed and dragged the blankets back over them. They shifted again, tangling their arms and legs once more as Sirius draped himself doglike over the whole of Remus' body, content.
Remus clung to him, his cold nose tucked into the crease of Sirius' neck. "I have absolutely no urge for going."
"Then I guess you'll have to stay."
"Always."
Author:
escriboRating: NC-17
Warnings: ridiculous nicknames
Word Count: 2624ish
Summary: It's cold, Remus is running late, and Sirius is about to make him later.
Notes: Written for the 2013
rs_games for Team MWPPIt was cold, the first really cold morning of autumn, and Sirius, barely awake to begin with, squeezed his eyes shut tight, determined to find his way back to his dreams. It was too early on a Saturday morning to be up and about but he knew he would be the only one of his dorm mates still in bed. James, the absolute nutter, would be at Quidditch practice even with frost on the ground, with Peter tagging along behind as always. Remus had more sense and enjoyed a proper lie in but Duty in the form of detention with Madame Pince had forced him up. If it was ten degrees warmer, Sirius would feel guilty about that since it'd been his prank. As it was, he simply burrowed more thoroughly into his pile of blankets and pillows, content to stay in bed until at least noon.
At least, he would be if he could figure out a way to ignore Remus, but he'd never been successful at it before. Of course, it would probably help if he even bothered trying.
Cracking one eye open, Sirius looked at a lanky Remus where he stood in front of the wood burning stove, his fingers spread wide as he tried to catch what little heat emanated from the barely glowing embers. His eyes were closed, his long nose dipping down as his head bobbed in sleep before he jerked upright. He began mumbling to himself, the words of a half forgotten spell spinning their way to Sirius and it took him several minutes to piece together what it was meant to be.
"You're rubbish at anything practical, Moony," Sirius slurred, coughing once to clear his throat and then rubbing his own nose with the back of his hand. He followed up his complaint with a poorly aimed pillow that landed several feet short of its mark. He'd never get back to sleep with Remus chattering his way through a warming charm, looking so adorably pathetic.
"You're one to talk," Remus groused, kicking at the pillow. He rubbed his hands over his face and shivered in his just too short pajama bottoms, sounding as miserable as he looked. "I'm too cold to remember the middle bits."
"Spell's no good without the middle bits."
"I know."
"What time do you have to be in the library?"
"Nine."
"What time is it now?"
"Eight."
"Why are you up so early?" Sirius asked with the world weary voice of one who understood that detention at nine meant sleeping until 8:55, followed by a sprint through the castle that would wake him up before he got there.
Remus only frowned at him in answer. Sirius had lied earlier and they both knew it: Remus did practical really very well.
Sirius tugged his blankets more firmly around his shoulders, watching Remus as he reluctantly moved away from the weak warmth of the stove to root around in the trunk at the end of his bed for a jumper and a pair of trousers clean enough to wear, sniffing each in turn. He didn't dress, though, just clutched his clothes against his chest and returned to his spot in front of the stove.
"Since you've so much time," Sirius began when it became obvious that Remus might have fallen asleep standing up again, "will you bring me some toast and tea, my lovely little crumpet?"
"Get up and get it yourself," Remus answered, his voice gruff as he turned to warm up his backside but Sirius could see the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Remus' hair was grown long, longer than he'd ever worn it before, sticking up in tufts from sleep. Sirius liked it quite a bit. In fact, he liked all of Remus quite a bit.
"You know I'm a delicate flower, my sweet limpet," Sirius added. He especially liked how Remus would usually act all offended when Sirius called him by pet names but then cave so readily to any request Sirius made of him. He suspected that meant Remus quite liked Sirius as well since he would just tell James to bugger off when he tried the same. "I'll shrivel up and die if I have to get up. Wither and turn to dust. You'd have it on your conscious for years."
"I suppose I'll muddle through the dark stretch of time somehow."
"You won't. You'll pine for me. You'll always wonder if, but for the want of tea and toast, I might have lived forever."
"No more poetry for you before bed," Remus mumbled, only just loud enough for Sirius to hear.
"Oh ye! who, sunk in beds of down / feel not a want but what yourselves create, / Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate, whom friends and fortune quite disown!" Sirius recited Burns in a brogue nearly as heavy as Remus' own, pouting when Remus only just laughed at him. "Come on my soggy biscuit dipped in tea," he wheedled, which actually sometimes worked. "I'm hungry. Have you no feelings?"
"For you?" Remus asked, turning his eyes back to what remained of the fire though he sounded suspiciously breathless.
"You wound this wretch, already crushed low / by cruel Fortune's undeserved blow." Burns and the brogue again, more McGonagall this time than Lupin, but Sirius still thought it passable. He was off the tea and toast anyway as the sight of Remus pitifully poking at the dying embers with the scroll of Peter's half-finished Muggle Studies essay made another plan take shape in Sirius' mind.
Sirius lifted the corner of his duvet and motioned Remus over. "If you won't feed me, my darling speckled pudding, come warm me up."
That apparently took Remus' mind off his frozen toes. At least, Sirius was willing to bet ten galleons that it wasn't the cold that sent a shiver through Remus. He'd double it based on the dark look in Remus' eyes that Sirius' instinct was right: on at least one occasion Remus has thought about having his way with Sirius. In fact, Sirius would wager his favorite dragonhide boots that Remus was thinking about it right now.
"Warm you up?" Remus asked, but his eyes were sliding down Sirius' body, what he could see of it. "I'm frozen to the core. Madame Pince is going to have to defrost my hands before she puts me to work."
"Then you'll be doing her a favor, too, if you come over here."
Remus looked over first one shoulder and then the other, though they were perfectly alone and not likely to be bothered. He squinted at Sirius then, weighing, Sirius imagined, how serious Sirius was being. Sirius, torn between wondering if looking sexy or pouting would get him further, did both. It seemed to do the trick.
"This is weird," Remus whispered.
"Is it?" They were nose-to-nose once they had twisted and turned, shifting enough to fit two grown boys on one small bed. There was nothing for it but to put their arms around one another, which they did, and tangle their legs together, which they did. It wasn't uncomfortable, Sirius noted—at least, he wasn't uncomfortable.
"You don't think so?"
"No."
Up close, Remus smelled even better than he usually did, of warm beds and cold days, of tea and books of poetry, of wood smoke and mischief. Mischief, Sirius thought, definitely had a scent and it was wonderful. He moved impossibly closer, burying his nose against Remus' collar bone and closed his eyes as he breathed in deeply.
"What are you doing?" Remus' voice was pitched a good octave higher than usual but it didn't stop him, Sirius noted, from sliding his frozen hands beneath the material of Sirius' t-shirt. He had long fingers, which Sirius had definitely noticed before, that were calloused from his work in the greenhouses. Sirius trembled when they moved slowly up and down his spine and raised his head so that he could see Remus' face.
"It's all right," he whispered, "James and I used to do it all the time."
"Used to?" Remus breathed out, the rush of air warm against Sirius' lips.
Sirius took a moment to repeat those words in his head. He hadn't meant for them to sound so naughty. He'd thought about doing this once or twice with James when he first turned thirteen and discovered his mum was completely wrong about what would happen if he masturbated, but nothing had come of it. After a couple of weeks nursing a very awkward crush, Sirius had made some life altering decisions: he truly did love James just like a brother and Remus' accent was dead sexy even when he was talking about the properties of dragon dung or yelling at James for vomiting in the bathtub. Four years later, they were still truths that he lived by.
"Long time ago," he promised, nuzzling his nose against Remus' neck. "And not… I didn't mean… We didn't… I'm still cold."
"Can't be. I'm burning up."
"But I am, my rasher of crispy bacon."
"You're utterly ridiculous."
"Eh, you like it."
"Merlin help me, I do."
"I knew it."
Their first kiss was… alright, it was a little weird. The angle was wrong and Remus had his eyes open, which Sirius could tell even though his were closed, and he kept them closed as he drew back just a tiny bit. He meant to ask if it was alright or to apologize or something, but then Remus surged up and kissed back hard, his hand rising up to tangle into the back of Sirius' hair. It was perfect after that for a long time, and Sirius never wanted to move again.
"Warm now," Remus whispered after a while, and Sirius nodded, too happy to answer properly when Remus began sucking on Sirius' lower lip. Sirius leaned forward, his nose pressed into Remus' cheek and his hands pushing past layers of flannel sheets and cotton pajamas to find Remus' hips and drag him forward. Remus hummed, his tongue swiping at Sirius', and then there were Remus' sharp canines again, biting and sucking at Sirius' lip, soothing before releasing him, leaving Sirius' lips swollen when he pulled back a bit.
Sirius swallowed hard, searching Remus' face, before he managed a smirk, "You're going to be late. She'll flog you with dictionaries. Hang you by your toes in the reference section."
"I'll tell her it was your fault. She'll believe me."
"That she would, my dollop of clotted cream."
"I can't believe how hard that turns me on." Remus took Sirius' head between his hands and began again, encouraging them both to nip with their teeth, their noses bumping together as they fought for dominance. Sirius finally gave a little, finding his white flag somewhere over the smooth skin of Remus' chest as he pushed his hands and the top of Remus' pajamas higher.
Remus had given up warfare for exploration, as his hand sank lower and then down past the waist of Sirius' bottoms. For many minutes, they just touched and kissed, the excitement of it leaving them both shivering as they sweated beneath the piles of blankets on Sirius' bed. Sirius couldn't believe he had waited this long but decided then and there that this was it. He wanted Remus—would always want Remus.
"I love you, Remus," he stuttered out against the pulse in Remus' throat, his teeth grazing gently over Remus' skin as Remus drew in a thick breath, his hips thrusting against Sirius' thigh.
"Sirius—"
"No, just shut it, yeah? I just want—"
"I love you, too."
For a moment, Sirius just stared at Remus, and Remus stared back. It seemed both impossible and inevitable, something Sirius never hoped for and yet the only truth that he could ever know. It made him smile, then laugh, burying his face into Remus' shoulder as Remus held him, petted his hair until Sirius could breathe again.
"I love you, my dearest little fried sausage."
"Oh, there you are. Thought you'd gone 'round the bend for a moment."
"Only ever for you."
They kissed again, Sirius himself once more as he was confident of his prize. He pressed the back of Remus' hands into the mattress and then slid down, pressing his kisses over Remus' chest, his soft belly, following the line of hair until it disappeared into Remus' pajama bottoms. He lifted back up to kiss Remus' mouth once more.
Sirius gasped for breath as they broke the kiss and Remus moved to press his lips over Sirius' jaw and down his neck, his own hands following a similar path that Sirius had just made. He was less shy, though, his fingers sure of their destination and none too gentle. He made a triumphant sound when he found Sirius' cock, curling his fingers over hot, hardening flesh. Sirius felt his stomach tighten, his thoughts careening from too long to too fast, and he groaned when Remus agreed with him and wondered if he'd said it out loud, and what else he'd said without knowing.
Before he could think about it too hard, Remus slid his hand away and replaced it with his thigh, pushing Sirius' legs apart, and Sirius went willingly. He chased after Remus' kisses now, though Remus didn't allow them for long; his lips ticked up into a wicked smile, the bow of his mouth red and swollen, too, before he latched onto Sirius' neck, pushing down the fabric of his shirt to lick at Sirius' collarbone. Remus's hands were suddenly everywhere again: under Sirius's arms and behind his shoulders, tugging off his top, tipping his neck, and sliding down the back of Sirius's bottoms.
Sirius searched for something of his own to grip, knocking first the remaining pillow off the bed, then the tangle of blankets before giving up altogether and reaching again for Remus, his hands going tight around Remus's shoulders, arching up into him. His cock ached, needing more friction, more pressure, more of everything, and finally Remus gave it to him, gave everything to him, shoving against his body and against the mattress, the headboard, until Sirius' breath was pushed from him, and grabbing Sirius' leg to wrap around his hip and rock against him with thrusts like exclamation points until they were both coming, Sirius first, nearly biting into the hard flesh of Remus' shoulder to keep from screaming, and then Remus, with a breathy nhuh of pleasure wet against Sirius' ear.
For a long time they laid still, trying to remember how their lungs work, shaking as the sweat and the sticky mess between them cooled on their bodies.
"I suppose--" Sirius began but has to stop, huffing out his breath as he gathered Remus closer for a hug then pushed him away again, still prickly hot. By the time he was sure he could talk, he had already forgotten what he was originally going to say. "You should go, I guess."
"I want to stay."
"She'll give you double if you're late."
"I think it'll be worth it."
"Do you?"
"Absolutely."
"You are rubbish at being practical."
"Sirius Black scolding me about being practical. This might honestly be the end of the world. It would explain why it's so bloody cold."
"It is cold," Sirius said as he dove over the side of the bed and dragged the blankets back over them. They shifted again, tangling their arms and legs once more as Sirius draped himself doglike over the whole of Remus' body, content.
Remus clung to him, his cold nose tucked into the crease of Sirius' neck. "I have absolutely no urge for going."
"Then I guess you'll have to stay."
"Always."
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