Disclaimer: I do not own this. And I never have. And unfortunately I probably never will. And I am unable to think up a witty disclaimer. So I will stick with listing what you will get if you sue me, which is: 534 books, 34 DVDs, and and iPod...so...not worth it.

This is slash, of the fluffy kind. Sirius/James. Yay!

Please review, I love all comments, especially constructive criticism. Even if you find it too boring to finish—tell me!

If you do like this, I have another segment that I am considering posting. Unfortunately, it takes this out of the lovely world of fluff and into angst, so...if you would like to see it, say so in your review.

It was two weeks after the sorting before Sirius Black realized that James Potter wasn't sleeping at night.

It was two-o'-clock and Sirius had just gotten back from his first detention, polishing and clipping all of the school brooms. He paused in the entrance to the dormitory. Remus and Peter appeared to be sleeping; neither of them moved except for the slight rising and falling of their chests. Remus snored lightly.

James, though, turned from side to side before sitting up in bed. "Black?" he asked, sounding much more alert than Sirius felt.

Sirius yawned. "Uh-huh," he confirmed, trying to feel his way to his trunk in the dark. After only two stubbed toes, he safely reached his bed. Sirius dug through his trunk before grabbing what he thought was a pair of pajamas. It was a lucky guess, and he pulled them on and fell into bed without thinking. He closed his eyes and pushed his head deeper into his pillow.

Sirius was seconds from sleep when James decided to speak up again. "How was your detention?" he called softly from across the room.

Sirius cracked his eyes open. "Okay," he said warily, "boring...why?"

James was sitting up in bed, and Sirius saw his silhouette shrug. "I dunno...I'm kind of planning on getting a detention sometime soon..."

Tired as he was, Sirius had to laugh at this ridiculous statement. "If I was planning something," he said, closing his eyes again, "I wouldn't get caught."

Neither of the boys realized how loud they were being until Remus suddenly stretched, murmured something incomprehensible, and appeared to continue sleeping.

"Hey," James said, quieter this time, "Any chance you'll be joiningme in detention?"

Sirius smiled. "Sure," he agreed as he finally dropped off to sleep, "count me in."

And that was the first night.

The second night there was no detention. Sirius stayed awake because he wondered if James would. He waited until he was satisfied the other two boys were asleep and listened for the sound of bedsprings creaking from across the room as James tossed from side to side. Before, he had always dismissed it, thinking James was simply a light sleeper. Now he wasn't sure.

"You awake?" he asked cautiously, propping himself up on his elbow.

There was a pause before the other boy answered. "Yeah," he said wryly, "Like every night. You couldn't sleep either?" Sirius could almost picture the smile on his face.

"No, I couldn't," Sirius said. It wasn't that much of a lie.

"Hey, you know that Snape kid from potions? The Slytherin?"

It took Sirius a minute to realize who James was talking about. There was nothing especially remarkable about Snape, apart from an aptitude for Potions and an apparent lack of hygiene. "Yeah, I remember him."

"Well, I heard that he's hanging around with your cousins, and that he's teaching them Dark Arts," James said importantly.

Sirius' immediate reaction was disgust. "A first year knowing all that? Is he planning to go out and torture people or something?"

James nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, unless we get him first. He'd deserve it."

Sirius agreed. "Of course he would," he said. "Did you have anything in mind?"

And that was the second night.

The six-hundredth-and-forty-fifth night came when they were at the end of their second year, when both boys were thirteen. Most of the intervening nights had been spent in ways similar to the first two. And it looked like this one would be exactly the same.

It was early June, and stifling hot outside. Peter had opened the window earlier to let in a breeze, but it had done little besides send their things blowing around the room. The curtains around their beds flapped incessantly, and from outside they could hear Professor Kettleburn's brood of...well, those things. All this added up to make talking difficult at best, and Remus and Peter eventually gave up and went to bed. Sirius and James did, too, but neither of them went to sleep.

When Sirius deemed the other boys had been asleep long enough, he called across the room to James. But he could barely hear himself over the flapping curtains, so he thought it was doubtful that James would hear him. He saw James sit up and heard him say something, though he had no idea what it was.

His frustration had just reached a boiling point when James gave up, pulled himself out of bed, and padded across the room to Sirius. "Hi," he said, "I couldn't hear you."

Sirius swallowed, feeling slightly off-kilter for reasons he couldn't pin down. "I couldn't hear you either," he chimed in numbly.

James either didn't notice Sirius's agitation or chose to ignore it. Sirius desperately hoped it was the former. "So I thought we could talk over here tonight—if that's okay with you," he added, hesitating.

"No--" Sirius said haltingly, "that's fine—I--sure, sit down."

And he did. The mattress moved under his weight, and Sirius could feel the warmth of his body across the foot of air separating them.

Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away.

"Hey," he said, needing to say anything, "Have you noticed that Remus is pretty much gone about once a month, with exactly a month between?"

James tucked his legs under him, sitting Indian style "Have you been marking all this down on a calendar or something?" His bare foot brushed Sirius's palm. Sirius bit his tongue.

When he thought he could talk again, he grinned and said, "Actually, yes, for the last four months."

James stared at him, shaking his head. "Sirius Black, you are amazing," he said jokingly. Sirius blushed. Which he thought was odd and somewhat irritating—he never blushed, and besides, this was James.

He felt hot, so he slid off the bed and grabbed his calendar out of his trunk. He flipped it to February and pointed to the weekend when Remus had gone missing, and flopped back down.

As the night went on, James slid down until, in the early hours of the morning, he was completely horizontal, his body parallel with his friend's. Sirius found it hard to breathe.

He was saved from asphyxiation when James sat up and yawned at about two-thirty. "I'm tired," he announced suddenly, "Good night." He punched Sirius's shoulder lightly, and made his way back to his bed.

After James left, Sirius instinctively rolled into the warm indentation his body had left on the bed. His arm burned where James had touched him.

That night Sirius was the last one asleep in the dormitory.

And that was the six-hundredth-and-forty-fifth night.

On the six-hundredth-and-forty-sixth night, Sirius wondered if they would go back to talking across the room again. Something inside him was vehemently opposed to this idea, and he thought that if James wouldn't come to him, he might be brave enough to go to James.

That night it was much later than usual before either of them spoke. All Sirius could hear was snoring and rain on the windows. Then--

"Sirius?"

He thought his heart might leap out of his chest for pure joy.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, do you mind if I come over there again tonight?"

Sirius couldn't answer immediately. He moved his mouth and nothing came out.

James apparently took this to mean no. "It's just, it's kind of easier," he babbled in explanation, "but if you'd rather I stay here that's fine too, I just thought maybe--"

"I don't mind," Sirius interrupted hastily.

James stopped instantly. "Well—okay, then."

They didn't talk as much as they usually did that night. Sirius was acutely aware that James was lying next to him. He could hear every breath he took, feel every time he moved. If he reached over just a little, he could touch him.

But he didn't. And then James was gone, leaving that empty spot that was warm enough to keep him alive at night.

And that was the six-hundredth-and-forty-sixth night.

The eight-hundredth night came half-way through third year. They were tired most of the time; every spare moment they had was spent in empty classrooms practicing complicated Transfiguration spells. Oh, and Sirius was fairly sure that he was gay, or at least bisexual, and he was also pretty confident that he was in love with James Potter.

The eight-hundredth night was going to be awkward from the outset.

After Peter and Remus were asleep, James slipped silently from his bed, like he did almost every night and began making his way towards Sirius on the other side of the room. Sirius's mouth went dry.

When James was about half-way across the room, Sirius stopped him. "You know," he said, barely able to force the words out of his mouth, "I thought maybe—I thought maybe you could...just, maybe, stay over there tonight." Sirius winced as the words left his mouth. They sounded callous, even to his own ears.

James didn't come any closer, but he didn't turn around either. "Why?" he asked, sounding just as hurt as Sirius predicted. "Are you mad at me?"

Sirius sighed. "No. Of course not."

James perked up slightly at this. "Oh, good," he said, relieved. "But...why don't you want to talk to me anymore?"

Sirius would have been annoyed if he hadn't been so worried about how his news was going to be taken. "I do want to talk to you," he said patiently, "I just want you to stay over there."

James let out an annoyed huff of breath and crossed his arms. "I get that," he said sourly, "I just wanna know why."

Sirius took a deep breath and stared at his clenched fists. He opened and closed his mouth several times, and threw his hands up wildly. "I...well, you know...it's...oh, Merlin." James widened his eyes impatiently. "Um...well...I'm...gay. Oh, crap." Sirius buried his face in his pillow and shivered. He bit his lip so hard it bled.

He had no idea how long he sat like that before he poked his head up cautiously. James as still standing frozen in the middle of the room. "I'm sorry," Sirius said.

"No," James said, "I was just, um, a bit startled. Are you...are you absolutely sure that you're...?"

"Yeah," Sirius responded miserably, avoiding his friend's eyes. "I tried to like girls, but I couldn't. I would have if I could."

"Okay," James said. "Is that all?"

"What?" Sirius croaked.

"I mean, if that's it, I still don't get why you don't want me over there," James clarified.

"Well...don't you think it would be kind of creepy?"

James, to his credit, appeared genuinely mystified. "No," he said, as though he were speaking to a stubborn three-year-old. "You're my best friend."

Sirius had not expected this. Not in the least. "Oh," he said, feeling lost, "okay then."

James shrugged and continued across the room as though they'd never had the conversation. He laid down beside Sirius like he always did. "So, I thought we could try out that Adfectium spell on Snape tomorrow. Maybe after Potions?"

Sirius was deep in his thoughts, and barely heard his friend. "Uh huh," he said blankly.

James turned his head and studied the side of Sirius's face. "Hey," he said softly, "I meant it. I couldn't care less who you like. I swear. You're my best friend." In confirmation of this, he slung his arm around the taller boy's shoulder. Sirius responded with a wobbly smile and turned to the side slightly, so his cheek was resting on James' hand.

Silence reigned in the dormitory. Sirius thought he could hear James' heart; but it was probably his own.

It was too much; he could only take so much. He closed his eyes, threw his head back, and laughed. James smiled goofily at him, but Sirius didn't notice. His body shook with silent bursts of laughter, his shoulders moving up and down and his stomach aching. He laughed so hard he couldn't breathe and tears streaked down his face. He buried his head in his pillow until he fell still and then looked up at James, who chortled in amusement and grinned.

"I'm happy," Sirius said as explanation.

And that was the eight-hundredth night.

The one-thousandth-and-second night came exactly one week after James' fifteenth birthday and one week before Sirius's. It was three days before the next full moon and forty-seven days after the term had started. It was the kind of in-between time that Sirius hated. He wanted out.

But it wouldn't come that night. James crawled up beside Sirius like always, but he was unusually subdued. His responses to Sirius mainly consisted of vague "uh-huh"s, and "mm-hmm"s. After only about five minutes, he said, "Sirius? I'm tired."

Sirius nodded, his heart sinking. He had wanted to talk about an idea he had for getting Snape to stop nagging Remus about his disappearances. Oh, well. It could wait.

But James wasn't leaving.

He was facing the wall, turned away from Sirius, and he didn't move. Sirius poked his shoulder. "Hey."

"I'm tired," James said sleepily, "And I'm comfortable. And I don't want to move. Can I stay?"

Sirius shrugged, but his hands trembled. "I don't care," he said.

"Okay." James closed his eyes and slid beneath the blankets.

Sirius reached over his friend and flicked off the lamp, easing himself under the blankets as he did so. He rolled as far towards the edge as he could without falling off; being this close to James, in bed, sleeping, was too much.

But even unconscious, James seemed to have a sort of magnetic attraction to Sirius. He rolled over in his sleep until his face was mere inches from Sirius's and their feet were locked together.

Sirius stayed that way for sometime, in uneasy restlessness. He hardly dared to breathe for fear of breaking the moment.

But he could only stay awake so long, and eventually he felt his eyes closing as well. The top of his head was perhaps too close to James' lips, and maybe they would be embarrassed in the morning, but for now he was comfortable and this felt right.

And that was the one-thousandth-and-second night.

The one-thousandth-and-two-hundredth night came during fifth year. They were both still fifteen. Sirius still lived with his family, and they were still trying to become animagi. Sirius felt as if he had spent his entire life waiting for something to change and that nothing ever would change and he couldn't make it change. He was stuck in a ditch and everything was frozen, but all he wanted was to move.

Remus and Peter both fell asleep early that night; but the other two boys were so awake it hurt. Sirius could feel James beside him in bed, and their arms were touching and it was cold but he could feel James' knee on his thigh. And they were just friends, still just friends, and the past one-hundred-and-ninety-eight days had all been like this. Sirius didn't know why he was so acutely aware of everything tonight, but he was.

Instead of rolling away from James, the way he usually did when everything stung him like this, he scooted closer to the center of the bed. Now he could feel James' breath on his neck, warm and soft like sunlight. He could smell him, the mixture of grass and chocolate that was so perfectly James that Sirius wished he could keep breathing it in forever.

And James stopped moving as well; they were both motionless in the dark; more aware of each other and less willing to admit it than they had ever been.

But neither of them was a Gryffindor for nothing. James' breath caught in his throat for a minute, and then he slipped his arm around Sirius's waist. It was nothing; and it was a more intimate gesture than either of them had ever made. Sirius could feel James' soft hand on his back. His pajamas were too short and there was a patch of bare skin between his pants and shirt. James' arm rested directly there, and Sirius closed his eyes, wondering if there could be anything more wonderful.

Because he thought there could be, and because James had been brave enough for one night, he leaned in and pressed his lips to James'.

He pulled away almost instantly, and bit his lip.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

James shook his head. He took his other hand and placed it gently on the back of Sirius's head, and drew him back in. "I've never kissed a boy before," he said, and then met Sirius's lips with his own.

It was better than Sirius had imagined. James' lips were chapped, but they felt soft as they moved against his own. He clutched Sirius to him desperately, his fingernails leaving tiny marks on Sirius's hips and neck. He ran his tongue along Sirius's lower lip, and Sirius tangled his hand in James' messy hair, clinging to him as though his life depended on it. James' tongue pushed it's way into his mouth and ran along the roof, rubbing against his tongue and tickling the backs of his teeth. Sirius strangled a moan in his throat. Kissing James was better than kissing any girl or boy; not because he was especially good, but because he was James.

They pulled apart. Sirius wanted to tell James that he loved him; and always had and always would. But he was scared, so instead he met James' eyes and hoped he would guess.

But James had bowed his head and was kissing Sirius's neck, and Sirius couldn't even think, much less speak. He closed his eyes and smelled James' hair; orange shampoo. His hands were on either sides of James' head, and he pulled him back up so their lips met again.

When they finally pulled apart, they didn't speak. Sirius took James's hand and kissed the palm, and somehow that meant more than anything else. He allowed their joined hands to fall into the space between their bodies. James gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and they fell still.

They lay that way for several hours, completely absorbed in each other. It grew later and later and neither of them grew tired. They were running high, filled with thoughts only of each other.

An orange light made its way through the panelled window of the dormitory. James turned his head to the side. The light illuminated half of his face. "Look," he said, "the sun's coming up."

Sirius touched James' cheek. "It's morning," he said.