neutral_omens | (no subject)

Entry tags:

remus,
sirius

(no subject)

Date: July 15th, 2000 (day)
Status: Mostly private - Sirius, Remus
Setting: Manor, grounds, bedroom (not in that order)
Summary: Picnic!

"Out of bed, Sirius. It's half to noon."

There was exhaustion in Remus' quiet voice, dark circles under his hazel eyes, but he stood there waiting regardless, holding a picnic basket with wonderful-smelling food. The scent alone could wake a dead man. Remus had to admit it, but not in front of Sirius, that Severus Snape was an excellent cook.

He waved the basket. "Come now," he teased gently. "I'm taking you outside, into the sunshine. It will be good for you. You're as pale as death."

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He grew unaccountably nervous, and covered it swiftly with, "Trying to escape? Trying to get your heavy arse off me, more like."

Remus was watching Sirius with lowered eyelashes, peering down at him, and was unprepared for the sharp burst of affection in his chest; his breath caught when Sirius blinked, opening those beautiful eyes of his, and Remus was thankful he wasn't talking or he would have stumbled.

"'M not that soft," he said, contemplating returning to sleep, even as he kept staring.

((You're right---I'd bet he's pretty hard by this point ;p))

"True," said Sirius, "you're awfully bony, really." Oblivious to Remus' staring, he reached a hand up Remus' shirt and pinched the skin on his stomach. "Still need a lot of fattening up until I can finally bake you into a werewolf pie." He removed the hand from Remus' shirt and rubbed his own stomach. "Mmm. Old family recipe, that is. It's delicious."

He stretched his arms above his head and yawned, and then noticed the sleepy expression on Remus' face. "C'mon. Let's get ourselves to bed, all right?" He moved to stand up, and extended a hand for Remus to take in order to help him up.

There was a part pf him that felt oddly reluctant to let Remus go.

"Knowing your family, I don't doubt it at all."

He didn't dare bring up the name Bellatrix around Sirius, nor any of his cousins, likewise anything about Azkaban - sometimes, Sirius looked so painfully thin it broke his heart, and Remus was forever trying to feed him and bulk him back up to something of his old weight, and the comment about being bony brought the worry to mind again. However, the family is the thing; he simply leaves the family remark as it is, putting a hand in Sirius' in order to be helped up.

Something creaks - he is aging, he's - what, forty, forty-one, forty-two now, fairly sure he ignored his birthday this year with more important events unfolding at his feet. Werewolves generally don't live very long, which is the largest factor: having your bones broken once a month is never good for the aches and creaks he'd normally get another thirty years before really feeling.

The funny thing about the whole scene now was its comfort - Remus hadn't even wanted to move, given the first opportunity. He probably, after all, would have fallen right back asleep in only a moment.

He stood with Sirius' help, and kept ahold of the hand for longer than necessary, until finally breaking the stare he'd begun minutes ago with a widening of the eyes in realization of his action. "Thank you," he said, politely.

Sirius licked his suddenly very dry lips, and ignored the strange sensation in his stomach. All in all, he felt relieved and distraught when those familiar hazel eyes broke away from his gaze and he lost the warm pressure of Remus' hand on his.

"S'okay," he said, and then cleared his throat at the scratchy sound of his own voice. He hastily collected the empty bottle of wine and glasses, and threw those along with the blanket into Remus' picnic basket. He didn't quite meet Remus' eyes when he said "Let's just go now, all right?" With that, he started back towards the manor.

The werewolf nodded - "Right" - and allowed himself to be led back inside, carrying the rest of the accoutrement, utterly lost in his own thoughts.

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