Written in 24 minutes for the contrelamontre very early morning challenge.
Warnings: Pre-slash (James/Sirius)
Disclaimer: Not my characters.
Vague by Elise
Face nearly obscured by the night, Sirius chattered incessantly about some test, or some girl, or some teacher. His voice was muffled by the inevitable weight of sleep, and James was only half listening, staring into the space near Sirius' left ear.
He didn't know the exact time, but the Common Room had completely emptied hours ago. He estimated somewhere in the range of four o'clock, but before he could formulate that thought, Sirius' voice, clearer than before, broke his concentration. "Jamie? James! You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"
Though he had heard perfectly well, James replied with a non- committal "mmm." He could feel Sirius' irritated grin in the dark, and knew that he was rolling his eyes and shaking his head in mock exasperation. Drama queen. "Siri, do you ever just stop talking? Shut up and enjoy the night, or something."
Sirius resisted the urge to snap, *it's morning, you git,* and instead opted to fall in a boneless heap in the middle of the couch, not moving when his head landed on James' knee. He wanted to tell him that the whole point of these late nights was to just talk, about anything and everything and nothing, but neither of them would ever talk about their reasons. They would just talk for hours, random Fridays when they didn't have a Quidditch match the following morning. The invitation would be simple, catching an eye across a table or room, a gentle brush of shoulders or hands. Never significant, but always understood, and always appreciated.
Sirius needed this time more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. In the wee hours of the morning, he wasn't expected to be funny, or carefree, or even happy. James always allowed him to rage or worry, to be distressed or miserable. In return, he could only offer the same, though he felt that James didn't need it halfway as much as he did. James was his constant, always composed and understanding and always *there.*
Sirius could feel James toying with the end of his hair, and unconsciously leaned into the contact. He heard James laugh softly into the heavy darkness and half-whisper, "you're such a puppy, still."
Smiling, to himself more than anything, Sirius replied, almost inaudibly, "don't change, Jamie. Don't ever change."
Warnings: Pre-slash (James/Sirius)
Disclaimer: Not my characters.
Vague by Elise
Face nearly obscured by the night, Sirius chattered incessantly about some test, or some girl, or some teacher. His voice was muffled by the inevitable weight of sleep, and James was only half listening, staring into the space near Sirius' left ear.
He didn't know the exact time, but the Common Room had completely emptied hours ago. He estimated somewhere in the range of four o'clock, but before he could formulate that thought, Sirius' voice, clearer than before, broke his concentration. "Jamie? James! You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"
Though he had heard perfectly well, James replied with a non- committal "mmm." He could feel Sirius' irritated grin in the dark, and knew that he was rolling his eyes and shaking his head in mock exasperation. Drama queen. "Siri, do you ever just stop talking? Shut up and enjoy the night, or something."
Sirius resisted the urge to snap, *it's morning, you git,* and instead opted to fall in a boneless heap in the middle of the couch, not moving when his head landed on James' knee. He wanted to tell him that the whole point of these late nights was to just talk, about anything and everything and nothing, but neither of them would ever talk about their reasons. They would just talk for hours, random Fridays when they didn't have a Quidditch match the following morning. The invitation would be simple, catching an eye across a table or room, a gentle brush of shoulders or hands. Never significant, but always understood, and always appreciated.
Sirius needed this time more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. In the wee hours of the morning, he wasn't expected to be funny, or carefree, or even happy. James always allowed him to rage or worry, to be distressed or miserable. In return, he could only offer the same, though he felt that James didn't need it halfway as much as he did. James was his constant, always composed and understanding and always *there.*
Sirius could feel James toying with the end of his hair, and unconsciously leaned into the contact. He heard James laugh softly into the heavy darkness and half-whisper, "you're such a puppy, still."
Smiling, to himself more than anything, Sirius replied, almost inaudibly, "don't change, Jamie. Don't ever change."