The Blue Café
It had been a bad night and a bad day. Sirius couldn't remember having been so drunk before. Ever. Neither could he remember having woken up so far away from his bed. Any bed, really, or in such a compromising position. How he had ended up on top of Eros on the Piccadilly Circus was still a mystery, one he wasn't all that inclined to remember, to be honest. It was quite curious why his friends had left him there, but he didn't doubt he'd find out when he met them. Or found them, as the case might be. But they would all have to wait. Right now the headache, sickness, dehydration and dizziness were all more pressing matters. Potions and magic could heal the cruelest of illnesses, yet wizards had never discovered the cure for a bad, fucking hangover. Groaning, Sirius sat up, rubbed his face before dusting some dirt off his jeans. Japanese tourists were taking pictures. Further away a couple of police officers were pointing in his direction and talking amongst themselves. He had at least gotten down from the statue; they should give him a break. Sensing trouble like only a Marauder could, Sirius finally got up on his wobbly legs and started walking.
Where in Merlin's name was his motorbike? The sleepy people and even sleepier pigeons gave no indication. Sirius swore internally that if something had happened to it, someone would pay. Some way, somehow. Patting his pockets it turned out that at least one thing was going the right way that early morning. Fishing out a crushed packet of cigarettes he could with relief count five remaining, and only two broken. But no lighter, and being a sensible wizard he always left his wand at home before a night of partying.
'Excuse me, ma'am?' he asked a woman hurrying past. She stopped hesitantly and threw him a critical gaze over her shoulder. Straightening up he tried to look like he actually did own a home. 'Do you have light?' A breath of relief escaped her; she wouldn't have to deny him money and suffer bad guilt rest of the day ("well, he would have used it on drugs." "Would he really? What if he was just hungry?"). The morning was still fresh. The sun had just begun climbing the buildings and there were few cars out yet. The woman, most probably on her way to work, rummaged around in her purse and soon revealed a lighter, but she wasn't about to give it up that easily. After three tries the little flame flared, and she held it up. Stuffing the cigarette between his lips, Sirius bent down, gratefully patting on it to make it catch faster. Just as the glow caught, their eyes met. Hers widened a fraction, and under the heavy foundation two bright spots coloured her cheeks. Thanking her, Sirius smiled brightly around the cigarette.
Red doubledeckers were driving past, some so crazily Sirius wondered if the driver of the Knight Bus had taken to do some work on the side. The ungodly noise reminded him of his acute hangover. It literally felt like his head was shrinking and his brain was trying to pop out of his eyesockets. With a growl his stomach began complaining. Without a wand there wasn't much more to it, Sirius decided, and began walking. He had grown up in London, yet it seemed like an alien place to him. Most of his childhood had been spent shut up in the house, and when he was old enough to do things on his own he'd been at Hogwarts. Sirius wasn't wearing more than a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, he must have lost his leather jacket somewhere, and it was in the beginning of fucking April. Food, though, was still his first priority. For some reason his stomach wasn't coping very well with the cigarette he was inhaling.
That firewhiskey had been out of this world, he remembered Sirius also had a creeping suspicion that firewhiskey mixed with Jack Daniels hadn't been the wisest. Neither had the Jägermeister submarine for that matter. Or the vodka shots. Remembering made everything force itself up in his throat. Swallowing hard it was all he could do not to throw up all over the sidewalk. He needed food.
Standing there and collecting himself, Sirius had been staring at the blue sky with narrowed eyes. He had been content inhaling poisonous fumes, but somehow, for some reason, he looked down and to the left. There, in an anonymous looking building beside a 7eleven and an old bookstore; was a café. With its near suspicious blandness Sirius could have guessed it to be glamoured by magic. There was a bench outside, with a dustbin beside it. The sign written on a chalkboard hanging beside the door declared it to be named the Blue Café, and that today's breakfast menu only cost fifteen pounds. Sirius' stomach grumbled with interest. Patting his pockets down for the second time, he managed to conjure up twenty. It was enough. James could say what he wanted; an extra stash of muggle money never hurt. Lily had taught him that. A broad smile crept across Sirius' face when he remembered her bulging tummy. Soon he'd be an uncle. But a growling stomach waits for no man. Looking both ways Sirius made sure no cars were approaching (which, of course, they were), and sped across the street. The door didn't jingle when he pushed it open, and so no one turned to stare. The café suited its name; decorated with outdated furniture in shocking blue. It surprised Sirius vaguely to see that even early in the morning the café had clientele. An old man sat by the window, one shaking hand holding around his mug of steaming coffee, the other lying, palm up, on the table as if waiting for someone to grasp it. His eyes were unfocused, staring back into another time.
Sirius took his gaze off him and walked up to the counter. Ordering his food with a big smile and a lot of politeness he hoped it would cover up the stench of booze and a night hanging on a statue in Piccadilly. The waitress nodded, took his order and asked for him to find a table.
Sirius really had no clue where in London he was. Somehow he had to find the Leaky Cauldron in order to floo home. After which he was really letting James hear it. Stranded in muggle London was no ideal situation. Especially when a war was blazing around their ears.
Paranoia pushed its way through the cotton stuffing in his head, and suddenly Sirius felt more alert. Scanning the room a second time he tried to assess the others. Of course there was no threat in that old man, or the lady in the corner writing, or that dark type-
-who was pouring over the newspaper in a most familiar fashion.
Sirius squinted. There was little light in the café besides the natural sunshine sneaking its way in through the window. But there was no mistaking the pale, young man. Brows were drawn into a concentrated scowl and he was worrying his bottom lip in an absentminded way. His hair had grown longer than Sirius could remember it. The dark man kept trying to secure some of it behind one ear, but it wouldn't listen.
Sitting in a muggle café early Saturday morning, staring at Severus Snape reading the newspaper just didn't seem right. Sirius shook his head and blinked twice. Then he pinched himself. Still there; Severus was still glaring at the paper. Peering at it, Sirius couldn't detect any movements in the pictures, but it was difficult to see clearly from where he sat.
The food arrived. He ate it and Severus didn't look up even once. Half an hour passed where Sirius sat sipping his coffee, savouring the ceasing headache and not taking his eyes off the other man. What in the name of Merlin could be so important in that blasted muggle concoction? Just when Sirius pondered about continuing his journey through muggle London did Severus finally get up. Sirius' heart was beating fast, and his brain raced to try and figure out what to say when Severus finally confronted him. But instead of looking at him, stopping and hopefully be completely thunderstruck, Severus did nothing more than roll up the paper and walk straight out. Not even a glance.
There were a few seconds where Sirius contemplated calling out his name. Then the door shut, and Severus was gone.
Restless nights.
Sirius hadn't been sleeping much as of late. Things were happening on all fronts. The Order of the Phoenix was busy. Remus nagged at him to start applying for internships ("we might be at war, but you have to consider there will be a future after it"). James and Lily were expectant parents; Sirius wasn't even seeing anyone steady at the moment. His bed was empty and cold and felt alien. Instead of sleeping he found himself walking back and forth, smoking cigarette after cigarette.
The day was just breaking. He could hear the birds sing. In a fit of desperation he grabbed a handful of muggle money and apparated. His steps were steady and resolute; he knew where he was going, this time.
The Blue Café didn't disappoint. Sirius wondered whether it opened early or just never closed. The old man sat by his table. The waitress smiled in recognition. Sirius sat down by the counter. He didn't want to admit to himself that he was looking for someone. Neither did he want to listen to the little swearing voice in his head. Busy shoveling down delicious eggs, Sirius could feel his hackles stand up and his ears trying to move backwards even in their retarded state. Someone had walked through the silent door. Their footsteps had stopped in hesitation. Sirius had the time to count to five before the person moved again. Like a gust of cold wind Severus glided up to the counter beside him. The waitress' smile this time held secrets. Severus didn't return it, but it didn't seem like he had to. The waitress inclined her head and disappeared into the kitchen.
'Hey,' said Sirius. Severus ignored him. 'Why don't you sit here?'
Finally Severus' expression changed. A quizzical eyebrow rose and he looked down on Sirius. One long moment passed where they just stared at each other. Severus without any expression on his face, and Sirius with ketchup on his. Eventually he sat down next to him.
It had been, what, a year? One and a half? It seemed like centuries. When they had parted they had studiously ignored each other. They had been sworn enemies for seven years and now they were walking down completely different paths. Sirius had been so sure that the next time they met it would be at the tip of their wands. Yet there Severus sat, casually dressed in a pair of jeans and shirt. His face had filled out and become more masculine, the nervousness in his eyes had stilled and become cold ice. They seemed relentless when they carefully looked him up and down.
'You didn't notice, but I was here two weeks ago,' said Sirius, trying to start a conversation. The corner of Severus' mouth twitched.
'I saw you,' he said. 'You're hard to miss.' Something in Sirius' face must have betrayed his confusion, because he continued: 'I had hoped you would forget all about it. Apparently you didn't.'
Severus' toast and coffee got served.
'What are you doing here?' asked Sirius after a bit of silence. He felt like an inquisitor.
'The same as you, I'd imagine,' answered Severus. 'Eating good food, glad to have survived one more night.'
There should have been name-calling, abusive words and threats. Yet, it felt like there was something sacred about meeting your enemy on neutral ground. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.
Three weeks and Sirius found himself staring at the sky. He had almost killed someone that night. Someone anonymous hidden inside a cloak and behind a white mask. It had been self-defense. Bile rose in his throat. Flashes of gnashing teeth, bestial snarling and a wounded scream. Too close to death.
His skin was feverishly hot and his bedsheets cold, but he didn't deserve them. He would walk tonight. The sun would soon rise.
Severus was already sitting there by the counter. Head resting in one hand. His black hair pooling over his shoulders, glistening in the shine from the blue neonletters reading the Blue Café. Sirius sat down next to him. It was five in the morning. The hand not supporting Severus' head was clenching and unclenching in his lap.
'What a night,' breathed Sirius. No answer was forthcoming. He hadn't expected there to be. A faint scent of forest and dampness came from Severus. He looked haggled; paler than usual and an air of defeat hung over him. In the bluish light he looked sickly. 'Are you alright, mate?' asked Sirius.
Finally Severus looked up, his face carefully expressionless. 'Mate?' he echoed. Sirius felt a faint blush sneak up on him, but he shrugged. It was just a figure of speech. 'I'm not alright,' said Severus. 'I'm not alright at all. Neither should you be.'
The Death Eaters had come from all directions in the forest. Like ravens their billowing cloaks were darker than the night around them. White masks grinning like skulls, death shining in their eyes. There was no mercy, not from them, and they knew all the nastiest curses. They needn't utter a whisper, but for the dramatic effect they loved to scream avada kedavera at the top of their voice. You heard it growled right in your ear, green light flashed just a millimeter from your head. Your hair literally singed with the death curse. It was enough to have a man sit awake, night after night, seeking refuge at a café that never seemed to be closing.
They sat there, side by side, slowly sipping hot coffee that got continuously refilled. It was around ten in the morning when Severus finally got up, stretched, thanked the waitress in a low murmur and disappeared.
It had only been a couple of days, but Sirius found himself pushing open the doors. The old man by the window was still holding an invisible hand. The young woman in the corner wrote, chewed on her pen, stared out in space, and then wrote some more. There was no Severus, and Sirius flopped down by the counter pretending he didn't mind. Actually, he was glad for it. Finally he could have the place to himself. He told himself this, and a silent voice in his head scoffed. It was afternoon and the rain poured down over London. The wind made any umbrella useless. In London an umbrella was more for show than anything else. Especially in May. At the end of the counter rested a newspaper. Sirius picked it up and started to read. After a while he understood the deep interest Severus had had in it that first time. It was riddled with happenings occurring in the Wizarding community. Even if the muggles didn't know the cause, it was having a profound effect on them. Disappearances, murders, commotion and general unrest all over England. One case especially caught Sirius' eye: a muggle-witness reported on the clash between the Order and the Death Eaters in the forest north of York. The Ministry's resources had to be taxed out if they weren't able to hush even that down. Luckily there were no pictures, the notice rather small, and at the back of the paper.
Severus didn't turn up that night or any of the following. At least five weeks passed, not that Sirius was counting. Not that he was waiting, at all, really. He just liked the café. It was wonderfully removed from any magic, good sides, bad sides or expectant friends/family/mentors. All the waitress really expected from him was that he drank his coffee, paid, and sometimes left a tip in the jar.
Then, just as Sirius had gotten used to having the place to himself, he walked in and found him sitting there at the counter. Sirius didn't feel his heart skip, not at all; he was just out of breath from the trip. Never mind that he had flown his bike. Neither did he stop dead in his tracks when Severus turned and stared at him, he just hesitated a bit. The black eyes were searching, traveling up and down Sirius' body and finally resting on his face.
'Black,' he said, rather unnecessarily.
'Hullo,' murmured Sirius and walked the final distance up to the counter. 'Just a coffee please,' he said to the waitress, who nodded, then disappeared. Severus hadn't taken his eyes off him, but it was impossible to read anything from his stony face. Eventually he took a minuscule breath and sat down again. 'You've been quite busy lately,' commented Sirius. Of course there was no reproach in his voice, which would have been ridiculous. He tried to sound careless: 'So! You've been up to?'
Severus shook his head slightly, unconsciously fingering a beginning hole in his jeans. 'Nothing much,' he eventually answered. 'Nothing much at all.' With a barking laugh Sirius clapped a hand on Severus' shoulder and squeezed. Startled, the other man drew back and narrowed his black eyes. His wand must probably be hidden there, somewhere, figured Sirius, but was relieved to see that he didn't reach for it. Letting his hand fall back down on the counter, Sirius shrugged and smiled, trying to convey that it had been a friendly gesture, and he understood that it had been misinterpreted. The muscles in Severus' shoulders didn't relax, but he took his uncomfortably scrutinizing eyes off him in favour of thanking the waitress.
There was an awkward sort of silence between them, filled with things they wanted to say but felt didn't fit in. Things they should say later, perhaps, or not at all, even if they wanted to.
'Hmm...' said Severus at length, and his mouth gave a twitch. 'The Waitress told me you have been here almost every night the past weeks.' The way he said waitress gave Sirius the feeling it was with a capital W.
'Well, I won't deny I've been here a lot,' replied Sirius. 'It's a cozy place, and it's always open, too.'
Severus nodded, and something glittered in the blackness of his eyes. 'I have to admit,' he said, 'that I was really surprised the first time I saw you here. Minding my own business I suddenly felt like getting sick, and when I looked up; there you were!'
'Getting sick?' echoed Sirius, skeptically. 'Now that's taking it a bit too far.'
'Not really,' replied Severus. 'Your voice has a way of making me feel acutely uncomfortable. I don't know if it's the pitch or what.'
'Git.'
'Motheaten-flearug-of-a-dog-with-slime-hanging-out-his-ass.'
Sirius couldn't keep back the laughter. He threw his head back and let it lose, not minding if he was scaring the poor, old man by the window.
'Oh man,' he said, and dried a tear of laughter. 'You had me there. You must have been dying to say that.'
'I'm glad I was able to please you,' replied Severus, with perhaps just a hint of smugness in his voice.
'I bet you were,' said Sirius, not able to help the faint blush dusting his cheekbones. He hoped Severus didn't see, but the way he was gazing at him with a frown and light disgust suggested otherwise. 'I mean-'
'I think I can guess what you mean,' interrupted Severus. 'Save your breath, I don't mind.'
'Y-you don't mind?' asked Sirius, confused and not just a little surprised. 'Seriously? We are talking about the same thing right?'
'I... don't know anymore,' said Severus hesitantly. 'Err... You were talking about,' here he leaned in, cheek to cheek with Sirius so that no one could hear, and whispered just what he thought they were talking about. Spittle got stuck in Sirius throat and he had to cough. The heat in his face spread to the rest of his body, making him break out in a light sweat. A glass of water appeared in front of him and he took a long sip. Eventually he was sound enough to nod. 'Aha,' drawled Severus, the twitch back in his face. He was fighting a smile, but his lips drew back and he flashed teeth.
A long silence followed where Sirius just couldn't bring himself to look at the other man. It wasn't complete embarrassment, he was just not certain of what he would find if he did. Eventually Severus got up, said something about having an appointment with death, and disappeared.
It wasn't until quite a bit later that Sirius caught up with his words and looked up to stare at the empty spot.
'FUCKING MERLIN!'
'You HAVE to get to the hospital, what do you think you are doing?'
'FUCK he's bleeding ALL over the place!'
'HIS EYE! IN GRYFFINDOR'S NAME GET HIM TO ST. MUNGOS!'
'GERROF! I'm FINE!'
'No you are NOT. Sit down!'
'Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.'
'What is Jesus?'
'Muggle thing. I'm gonna throw up. Move.'
'DON'T YOU SEE HIS EYE! IT'S GONE!'
'WHAT? Gimme a mirror!'
'Forget that, you have to get to the hospital!'
'Where are the others? Black? Potter? Longbottom?'
'They are fine, we got them outta there when the shit was about to hit the fan.'
'Fuck.'
'At least we got two of those slimy rats!'
'Who?'
'Wilkes and that youngest Rosier, I think.'
'Fuck.'
'Rosier's dead.'
Severus' voice was quiet. His face was awfully still. Everything about him was awful. He was still dressed in dragonhide boots, old-fashioned trousers and a scorched shirt. Sirius couldn't help imagine him dumping a black cloak and white mask somewhere.
They stood by the apple pie, doughnuts and other pastries. It smelled delicious, most probably, but all Sirius could smell was soot and fire. Both of them were slightly out of breath, their jugular veins nearly standing out of their skin with the force of their heartbeats.
'I'm sorry if I have difficulty summoning my sympathies,' said Sirius. Severus merely shook his head, hair falling forward to obscure his face and the failing blank expression.
'People weren't supposed to die.'
'What in Merlin's name were you expecting this to be?' Sirius had raised his voice, and with effort he tried to lower it again. 'People have been dying from the beginning of this farce. Or don't you remember my brother?'
'How could I forget Regulus,' answered Severus. 'I think maybe... he had the right idea. But look what happened to him.'
'Hey, if someone's able to fool you-know-who, it gotta be you,' said Sirius, taking a friendly hold of Severus' neck and shaking him lightly. 'You're the most twisted, slimiest and creepiest Slytherin I've ever encountered, and that says something considering I'm a Black.'
Severus looked up at Sirius from behind his black curtain, and let a smile flicker across his face.
'That's nice,' he said and brushed off Sirius' touch. 'But you have no idea what you're talking about.'
The babe's cry was high and unrelenting, barely surpassed by the victory howl of four grown men. They were dancing around in circles, throwing their arms over their heads, singing and hugging each other with a lot of hard thuds. The mother was lying in bed, tired but satisfied, flaming red hair stuck to her face with sweat. In her arms rested the protesting babe, but he soon understood that his howls was nothing compared to his father's. While the healer was busy writing short notices on the various bottles he placed on Lily's night-table, his nurse whisked away the child to have him cleaned. Upon returning she was about to give it back to the mother, but Lily stopped her.
'James,' she said, her voice strained after all the pain she had endured. 'Do you want to hold him?'
The shouting, screaming and general commotion died down at once. An expression of wary disbelief crept over James' face when the nurse turned to him and showed him how to hold the child's head. Sirius, Remus and Peter crowded around him, peering at the tiny little human in his arms.
'What will you call him?' asked Remus, daring to touch the child's forehead with a trembling finger.
'Harry James,' answered Lily from the bed. 'After our fathers.'
The blitz of the camera Sirius was holding made Harry scrunch up his face until he looked like a little raisin. They all laughed at his funny expression, and when Sirius had shaken the palorid sufficiently, they all continued to laugh at the picture version. The little babe was pinkish, black hair standing up in every which way.
Sirius dragged his eyes away from Harry James with difficulty and looked over at Lily. Everyone was there at James' behest. Even if they cared for her immensely, it wasn't to be denied that the Marauders did not include a girl. Sirius remembered a red and a black head by the banks of the Lake, close together and conspiring.
'Hey, James, are you able to keep the fort by yourself?' asked Sirius, edging towards the exit.
The door opened with perhaps a bit too much force, considered Sirius, as it hit the wall. Severus and the Waitress turned to stare at him simultaneously. No one else seemed to care. The smile on Sirius' face couldn't be killed no matter who scowled at him at that point.
'Severus!' he crowed, walking up to him with long strides. 'I'm an uncle!'
'Severus?' asked Severus in disgust, and then the rest caught up with him. A look of complete disbelief crossed his face before he managed to compose it again. 'Uncle?' His voice was a bit high pitched, as if he had to strain himself to keep it cool.
'Yes! Lily and James had their baby today. His name is Harry!'
If a thunderous scowl couldn't wipe the smug grin of Sirius' face, the look of utter disaster on Severus' had the power to make it fade.
'Of all the most irresponsible, fucked up things,' hissed Severus, clutching at his head. 'Who in their right minds go ahead and have a baby in the middle of a war? Not now, not now.'
'Hey, calm down,' said Sirius, taking a hold of Severus' upper arm to still him. Angrily Severus brushed away a tear, any sign of composure gone. 'I- I can't even think straight right now,' he said in a raspy voice. Still with a grip on him, Sirius pulled him closer, letting an arm around Severus' shoulders. He stiffened, but didn't shove him away. The hug was awkward, but eventually Severus rested his forehead on Sirius' shoulder and sagged. Carefully Sirius brushed his lips against Severus' ear, nuzzling his hair. One of Severus' thumbs rubbed against his back in response.
'If I had known you'd taken it like this-' began Sirius, but got interrupted.
'You don't understand,' replied Severus, finally untangling himself from the embrace. 'You have no idea what this means.'
'Maybe not,' conceded Sirius, 'but look at this.' The picture had been kept safe in his back pocket, and now he pulled it out, giving it to Severus with the picture side down so the Waitress wouldn't get any ideas. Severus turned it around carefully and looked at little baby Harry, glaring up at him.
'Looks like Lily in the morning,' commented Severus dryly, earning him a barking laughter.
When Sirius left the café later that morning, he suddenly remembered he had never gotten the picture back. He didn't mind too much, he could take more.
The book sucked. The band playing on the WWN sucked. The weather outside sucked. Most things sucked, and then there was a knock on his door. Puzzled, Sirius got up and leaned an ear against the wood and tried to listen. The wards kicked in, telling him there was just one figure outside, and his wand was not engaged. Another knock; three sharp beats.
Opening the door Sirius just stared for a long while.
'Hello,' he eventually said. The visitor nodded in greeting, but said nothing. Eventually Sirius stepped aside and indicated for him to come in. Severus did so, letting his eyes dart around the room, taking in all information at lightning speed. The poster of a woman in bikini caught his attention one second longer than everything else. 'I must admit I'm surprised to see you here.'
'Yes,' was the only reply he got. Watching the lean man stand with his back to him, ostensibly pouring over his rather pitiful collection of books, was more surreal than seeing him at the Blue Café. This was outside their truce-zone, as Sirius had come to think of it. Now, he was an Order member and Severus was a Death Eater. A threat. His wand rested on the table just by the entrance door, and Sirius began moving towards it. Suddenly Severus turned and something in the way his bare arms rested harmlessly against his sides made Sirius stop. A heartbeat later he realized what the implication of "bare arms" meant. Severus was wearing nothing more than a simple black undershirt, his Dark Mark pulsing life-like on his left arm. The skin around it was red, marred with scratchmarks. 'I need your help,' he said. The raw expression of desperation on his face reminded Sirius of a wild animal. Forgetting all about the wand, Sirius closed the distance between them in a few strides. Placing one hand on each side of Severus' face, he brought their lips together in a hard, determined kiss. A small sound of surprise escaped Severus, and when they pulled their lips apart his eyes had widened slightly. They searched Sirius' own, racking through his mind. But while Severus had to rely on his legilimency skills, Sirius didn't need anything of the sort to understand.
Leaning in again, he kissed him once more. With their tongues entwining, Sirius suddenly felt a desperate desire for the other man. His fingers dug into Severus' back, tugging at his shirt. Breaking their kiss he summoned enough air to growl in the other man's ear: 'I want to fuck you.' Severus answered by trailing kisses down Sirius' jawbone, eventually reaching his neck where he clamped down lightly, sucking at the tight skin.
Pushing Severus backwards towards the bedroom, Sirius tried to pull the undershirt over his head at the same time. It came off just as they bumped into the door. Severus stood leaning up against it, half naked and panting, lips red by the violent kissing. Sirius' pants were growing uncomfortably tight. Grinding his crotch against Severus' they both moaned, one more breathless than the other. Sirius' hands were all over Severus' bare torso, his skin already having gone damp with the heat.
With difficulty they managed to open the door, as if the thought capacity it took to do this simple task was too much at the moment.
The bed he had shunned for so many weeks stood there, carelessly tossed away bedsheets and everything. Severus seemed to grow impatient, and half ripped, half pulled off Sirius' t-shirt, growling as he did so. He fell backwards onto the bed, kicking off his boots. Already being barefoot, Sirius didn't hesitate a second before jumping in after him.
Laughing they tumbled around, play-fighting to overpower the other for the top. Eventually Severus got tired of doing it fair and grabbed a hold of Sirius' groin and squeezed. In that moment of weakness, Severus pushed him down and straddled him, slowly grinding against the aching member he had just committed such a great injustice. Sirius was about to deal equal damage, but forgot everything about it once Severus undid his zip and begun pulling off his jeans, this time paying great mind not to hurt him.
Carefully, almost reverently, Severus began kissing him, brushing lips softly against his penis. Sirius had propped himself up on his elbows so that he wouldn't miss even a second of it. Severus fucking Snape was sucking his cock, and he even seemed to be enjoying it. With quick and nimble fingers he stroked the shaft resolutely, drawing back the foreskin and lapping up a bit of the leaking pre-come. Taking the head into his mouth he bumped it against his cheek, sucking lightly, allowing Sirius to see his cock disappear into that willing mouth. His breath was coming in sharp pants. Positioning himself right, Sirius could both see and feel Severus work with his gagging reflexes, swallowing him down nearly to the root.
'Oh Merlin!' swore Sirius, wanting, but fighting the urge, to throw his head back and thrust deep. 'I'm coming. Stopstopstop.' With self-discipline Sirius didn't know he had he managed to carefully pull out of Severus mouth.
The ensuing kiss was deep and sloppy. Sirius let his nails scrape down Severus' lean back, in the end encountering his tightening trousers. Frustrated by the mere thought that the other man was still wearing clothing, Sirius was none too gentle removing them. The rough handling stirred something in Severus. When he looked up at Sirius again something was burning in his eyes.
'Fuck me,' he growled, his pale skin shining with sweat. Lying down on his stomach, Sirius stretched out and began rummaging in the drawer of his nightstand. Something wet suddenly began trailing down his spine accompanied by two very adept, massaging hands. Soft hair was tickling him. Finally locating the ever elusive lubrication he tossed it on the pillow beside him before rolling around and sitting up. Severus sat in his lap, letting Sirius clutch him tight. Their cocks were trapped between them and Sirius was trembling lightly.
With light touches they trailed each other's bodies, mapping out every scar and every muscle and vein. Their breaths evened out, but the air seemed charged between them. Turning around, Severus leaned back onto Sirius' chest.
The lubrication smelled of almond and vanilla. Sirius had used it in many similar occasions and the scent never failed to excite him. Adding a sizeable amount on his hands Sirius was about to begin preparing Severus when the other man looked over his shoulder and at the sticky hands.
'Don't bother,' he said. 'I don't mind a bit of pain.'
'A-are you sure?' asked Sirius, taken by surprise. Severus merely nodded. Not about to force lubrication on him, Sirius shrugged lightly and massaged his own penis with the cream, drying whatever was left on the sheets. Sitting up on their knees, Severus bent over slightly for ease of access and Sirius carefully began pushing himself in. The tightness from the lack of preparation made him wary, but it seemed the wait was boring Severus and he pushed back, penetrating himself completely in one smooth movement. Sirius gasped and clutched at the hips so tight his knuckles were whitening. A near breathless moan escaped Severus, every muscle in his body clenching tight.
With one hand Sirius brushed across Severus' chest to hold him close, the other he wrapped around the penis, but without stroking. The first thrusts were deep and measured. Severus threw his head back, resting it on Sirius' shoulder. His throat was completely exposed and Sirius couldn't keep from sucking onto it. Severus' own hands were everywhere, clutching at his shoulder and his arms, wherever he could get physical contact. Their rhythm increased, became more violent and urgent, breaths were held or let out with strained moans. When Sirius finally began working on Severus' cock in sharp strokes Severus had difficulty following; divided between thrusting into the hand or pushing back. Sirius could feel the muscles in his thighs beginning to cramp with the strai, but he didn't care.
A choked whine escaped Severus, and Sirius could feel his own balls tightening. With a few more swift strokes and thrusts Severus was pushing into him, opening his mouth but coming soundlessly. With the ring of muscles tightening around his cock Sirius' own orgasm was nearly ripped out of him. Severus had fallen forward and Sirius followed, legs and arms all wrapped around each other. His cock was still pulsing and every muscle in his body was taut while he held the other man in a vice like grip.
Finally they both began to relax. Untangling from each other, Sirius slipped out of Severus who promptly stretched out. His body was like jelly and for a good few minutes they just lied there without moving even an eyelid.
'Where's the bathroom?' Severus eventually asked. Sirius pointed him in the right direction, but remained with his eyes closed until he heard the door shut. Sitting up and placing his feet on the cold floor, he rested his elbows on his knees, and put his head in his hands. He replayed everything from Severus' knock on the door to that moment, and something surged in his stomach. Sirius couldn't decide if it was an excited or a dreaded feeling. It was powerful and all-consuming and he began shivering from a different reason than fatigue. After some time Severus must have entered the room again and Sirius startled slightly when cold hands brushed across his shoulders. There were no questions regarding how he was doing, why he was sitting like that, or if he had any problems. Severus most probably didn't care, or didn't need to know. All Sirius knew was that he was grateful for it. The bed dipped, and when he finally looked down, Severus had curled up in the bedsheets and was gazing up at him drowsily. 'Sleep,' he said, indicating all the space he had reserved for that. A smile spread across Sirius' face, and he did as he was told. Falling down with his head on the soft pillow for the first time in a long while he couldn't help but sigh. Severus had already turned around, inviting for a good spoon.
Sirius was just drifting off to sleep when Severus' low voice pulled him back.
'I'll speak to Dumbledore tomorrow.'
Sirius didn't answer, merely kissed his neck and held him tight.