Little Boys Don't
Summary: A series of mini stories mapping the awkward journey from boy to man - and all the pit stops in between. Slash, SB/RL.
Rating: G
Distribution: I don't see why anyone would want it, but if you do, just give me a yell as to where it is, so I can grin and point when I visit.
Disclaimer: Well, I certainly don't own them grumble. All praise JKR and all her slashy undertones g.
Author's Notes: Frankly, I've never been so disappointed in my reviews than I am with this fiction. I got two nice ones, and the other two? Completely heinous. Really people? One commented rather disgustingly, not to mention completely childishly, and the second simply pathetically.
This story is rated G because there is no mention of any sexual or otherwise explicit material. I know the reason the reviewer believes it is "dirty" (their words) is because their homophobic mind decided to read this story despite the words SLASH: SB/RL written in the summary. Yes, this contains boy-on-boy action, but how old are you? Get over it, it's people like you that make the world so difficult and full hatred. "Covered in dirt" – trust me, nothing could save your mind buddy. You are a ruined human being, and you have nothing to live for.
To the reviewer Rae Roberts – thank you.
To the reviewer Edgar-A.-Poe – thank you for the kind words. I appreciate you adding me to your favourites.
Two: Silver and Gold
He doesn't touch his food until everyone else has joined him. It is a formality he has picked up from years of stifflingly ceremonious meals amidst unforgiving parents and cold brothers. This morning he waits a half hour for Remus; his companions slug down mountains of bacon and pumpkin juice, while Sirius sits with practised patience for a quiet, sandy-haired boy to leave the infirmary, make his way to the Great Hall, sit down, and decide not to eat a thing. They ask him for confirmation of his good health, waiting for his frivoulous lies that are expected but unbelievable. Only then does Sirius pick up a gold fork elegantly between his fingers and plunge it into his cold breakfast. He makes no sound of complaint, this ritual the only lesson of patience he will ever pay penance with.
He feels Remus' eyes on him, as he does every time they dare to linger too long, and is greeted with a familiar nervous tingling he has learnt to write off easily. When he dares to sneak a glance back, Remus has usually turned away already, talking to someone else with skilled indifference to Sirius' gaze. Perhaps he is too impatient to wait for Sirius to solve the puzzle in each look, unlock the secrets that are constantly bubbling to the surface with each shared glance or shivering touch. Their eyes might meet, when Remus cannot shift his eyes away fast enough and Sirius is struck with the same sudden inhibition that often leads to extensive pranks. Silver meets gold and perhaps they flush, or their hands brush, or James coughs, and each turn away with delicate uncertainty to join the world that refuses to make sense at their age and certainly enjoys making every moment as hard as possible for two teenage boys.
Little boys don't watch each other with such secret, furtive passion.