Title: Come Fly With me
Pairing: R/S
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sirius is a kid with a new toy, and Remus is a boring old sod.
Disclaimer: I do not own the puppies, unfortunately, because if I did then stuff like this would happen more often, let me tell you!
Warnings: SLASH!
Feedback: Is craved like crack. Go on, give a junkie her hit.
Come Fly With Me
"I'm not getting on that."
The motorbike sits huge and gleaming in front of Remus, with Sirius astride it, windswept and grinning like a little boy with a shiny new toy.
"You've got to try it, Remus, it's bloody brilliant!"
"No, Sirius."
"Moo-oony!"
"No, Padfoot! Bad dog!"
Some residual doggy instinct wipes the grin from Sirius' face and he bows his head a fraction. He makes pleading, puppy-dog eyes and whines a little in the back of his throat. Remus growls softly in answer; warning, like a wolf before the pounce.
"Oh come on, you boring old sod!" Sirius scoffs, "It won't kill you."
"It might. It's a flying motorbike, for God's sake."
"So? I'm not dead."
"Yet."
"Remus? Who's that?" Remus' father comes to the door. "Oh, hullo Sirius."
"Hullo, Mr Lupin."
"What brings you here, then?"
"I'm trying to get Remus to come for a ride on my new bike, sir."
Mr Lupin runs an appreciative eye over the black-and-chrome hulk and lets out a low, admiring whistle. "That's a beauty, lad. Harley, isn't it?"
"Yessir. Brand new, with the very best flying charms. And safety charms too, of course," Sirius adds hastily, catching Remus' eye.
"Merlin, the times I used to have on my old bike," Mr Lupin smiles, lost for a moment in a pleasant haze of nostalgia. "Go on, Remus. Best feeling in the world." He claps his son on the shoulder, ignoring the murderous look Remus is shooting him.
Sirius grins and lets out a victory cackle. "Two to one, Remus. You are out-voted! Come on then." He tosses Remus the spare helmet.
Remus holds the helmet nervously; it feels terribly thin - flimsy, really - and the bike is huge. The shiny chrome of it gleams like a feral smile, all sharp teeth and menace.
"I'm...afraid of heights," he claims, only it's true. In first-year flying lessons his broom never cleared the ground by more than a metre, sensing his fear. He used to watch Quidditch with a terrified thrill of awe.
"Don't be silly, get on," Sirius orders, and Remus' father gives him a gentle shove towards the monstrous machine. Remus shoots him a glare and makes a mental note to move out and disown him as soon as possible, but shuffles inch-by-inch closer to the bike, and then he's beside it. It lets out a low, rumbling growl that makes Remus want to run, run, run away, but deep inside there's a shred of the wolf that senses the challenge and growls a reply in Remus' belly. At least, that's the only explanation he can find for why he's suddenly on the bike with the helmet jammed on his head and with his arms clamped around Sirius like he's a lifeline.
"Have fun, boys," Remus' father chuckles and turns inside, shutting the door behind him. With the warm golden glow of the house-lights gone it is very dark, weird shapes outlined in the faint silver glow of the waxing moon.
"I must be insane," Remus mutters, but Sirius only laughs and revvs the enormous engine. "Oh God," Remus chants, "oh God, oh God, oh God," as if it's a spell that will wake him up safely inside the house, with a warm cup of tea in his hand and an inviting stack of books at his side.
"Hold on tight!" Sirius warns, and then the great beast of a bike is moving, fast, faster, faster. Remus buries his face in the cool leather of Sirius' jacket so that he doesn't have to watch for the precise moment when - Oh bloody Merlin, he thinks as his stomach plummets - the ground drops away and supporting them is nothing.
"Alright there, Moony?" Sirius' voice is wild and jubilant, although he has to shout the words to make them audible over the lash of the wind and the grumbling roar of the bike.
"Yes, fine, great, super," Remus replies, his voice very high but the words lost against Sirius.
"What?"
"I said Yes, bloody super," Remus shouts this time, and lifts his head away from Sirius and, in the process, looks down. "Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-"
They are high. Very high. The thin, silvery serpentine of a road weaves below them, with the occasional tiny brightness of a car like a brief firefly. Fields are laid out like dark squares on a quilt, with hedgerows like black stitching, and here and there the tiny design of a house or small town.
"Oh shit, Sirius take us down, I mean it, go lower, down, too high, shit shit shit-"
"Relax, Moony."
"I'll give you re-bloody-lax you utter, utter swine, Sirius Black!"
"Don't look down, look up."
"What?"
"Up!"
And Remus does. He gasps.
Up here, away from the interference of streetlights, it seems as if the whole universe is laid out in diamonds and rich, dark velvet. The sheer magnitude of it makes Remus feel suddenly very small, and gives him the strangest feeling of vertigo, only in reverse; he feels as though you could fall forever into that sky, just fall through all that cold splendour all the way down into infinity. For a moment he is gripped with a mad wish to leap from the bike, to reach out and brush the stars with his fingers. They look so close...
Remus tightens his grip on Sirius' chest, feeling the low, barking laughter vibrate up his arms. Sirius is warm and living, an anchor to hold him to Earth. "Alright, Moony?" Sirius calls back to him.
"Yes," Remus breathes, still looking up. He can see all the constellations they learned in Astronomy class, draws their shapes in his mind. He can see - ha - the Dog Star, Sirius, the brightest object in the sky except for the wicked scythe of the waxing moon.
"Don't look at that," Sirius shouts, reading Remus' mind. "Don't think about that tonight. We're having fun!"
Remus grins a little - a lot, actually - and leans in closer to Sirius, bringing his mouth close to Sirius' ear so that he can say Thank you, and not have to shout the words. He sees the curve of Sirius' mouth in an answering grin, happiness tinged with a wicked little smirk at the edges.
"Hold on tight," Sirius warns, with laughter in his voice, and the roar of the bike's great engine suddenly comes to a terrible, heart-wrenching stop. They hover cartoonishly in emptiness for an endless moment before dropping like an Acme anvil.
If Remus could gather enough breath and courage to speak, he would be swearing like a sailor. He might be screaming. If he could move his frozen arms he would be beating seven bells out of Sirius sodding Black, who is laughing maniacally, evidently enjoying himself greatly.
He's gone mad, Remus thinks desperately, he's really trying to kill us both, before he loses all power of rational thought and his mind focuses on the feel of being sucked inexorably groundwards by the force of gravity. The terrible finality of the ground looms up to meet them; closer, closer, closer....
ROOOAAAARRRR! At the very, very last minute the engine-spell of the bike kicks in again and they hover, gently, a few inches from messy death.
"My God," Remus moans through frozen lips. "My God. Am I dead?"
Sirius laughs in return. "No, I saved your life just in time."
"Oh God. I think you've broken me, Sirius."
"Don't be silly."
"You bloody bastard. You - you - " Remus' words fail him. There are no words for what he is feeling, because he doubts very highly that anyone has ever survived what he has just survived.
Sirius swivels round to face Remus. He is still panting slightly, cheeks hectic red, and there is a look in his eyes that Remus has not seen there before. It makes him a strange mixture of nervous and happy. More nervous, really, because you never know what Sirius is going to d-
This is new, Remus thinks, with the warmth of Sirius' lips against his lips, and Sirius' hand on his hip. He sits very still, utterly frozen, until Sirius breaks off and leans back and laughs.
"Um," Remus says, helpfully. "Er."
One of Sirius' hands is still on Remus' hip, and the other is moving up to smooth Remus' wind-mussed hair away from his face. Remus blinks, and realises that his arms are still clamped tight around Sirius' waist. They are very close; Remus can feel Sirius' breath puffing against his face. It isn't, he decides, unpleasant.
"Better?" Sirius breathes, not moving away.
"Um," Remus manages.
Sirius' smile falters somewhat, his head droops just a little, that look fades away. He makes a little movement as if he would lean back and turn around if Remus would only let go. "Sorry," he mutters. "Sorry. I shouldn't have - I mean - sorry - I just -"
Remus doesn't think he has ever heard Sirius stutter like this. Sirius - arrogant, charming Sirius - always knows exactly what to say and how to say it. To hear him unsure of himself means that something enormous has just happened. Enormous like, for instance, the Earth tilting off its axis, or the moon suddenly taking into its head the notion to fly off into outer space.Remus finds it...endearing, in a strange way that he cannot entirely explain.
"I'm trying - Christ, I dunno - I mean - shit," Sirius is still stuttering.
"Shut up," Remus begins, and he can feel the heat build in his cheeks even as he continues, "could you, maybe, do that again?"
A/N: Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Comments and criticism are always extremely welcome. If you're going to flame me because you don't like slash then at least try to be intelligent about it.