No plot yet, but it's just a couple of chapters away. Remus learns the repercussions to his acts. Reviews will be loved!
Living in Denial
By: Nekare
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds;
Rupert Brooke
The last firework goes off with a bang inside Remus' head, and the bright red sparks leave place to his more usual scarlet canopy as he wakes up suddenly, gasping for air, shuddering as he realizes his warm blanket slid off his body, leaving him open to the cold and every kind of pain he deserves after last night's madness. He pulls the blanket close, lips trembling and muscles aching.
His mouth feels dry, stuffed; but beneath layers of alcohol and toffee and smoke he can still taste the indescribable taste of the boy that had betrayed him; the forbidden fruit Remus can't help but want more of. A groan comes from his throat, getting lost on his life's only solace – his cool sheets. His own noise sounds deafening to his ears, rumbling back and forth inside his skull, echoes of pain and echoes of lovely times past and times ahead, devoid of Sirius, after the stupidity he committed last night (kissing and sighing and admitting to wanting with so little words and too many touches).
Maybe, maybe there's a way to blame it all on the alcohol, on the year-ending craze, on the music and the light that had brought his blood alive.
Maybe he should just bury himself beneath his blankets, and stay there forever.
A heavy weight settles just beside his lower back, and Remus knows with accuracy born out of sunny days together that it's Sirius. He stills, remembering that old Muggle tell that if you play dead in front of a bear it will leave you alone. The air is getting stale and too warm inside the cocoon of blankets, the New Year's light going through them, Gryffindor red-colored.
"I know you're awake," says Sirius from the other side, and Remus closes his eyes, willing himself to stop breathing. Sirius puts a hand on his back, and the gasp that comes out of Remus' mouth gives him away.
"No, I'm not."
A heavy sigh. "Look, if you're going to be a bloody girl about this, then-"
Remus sits up so fast he gets tangled in the sheets, his head pounding like hell. "Piss off, Sirius, you don't get to talk to me like that after what you did to me!" They're too close for Remus' comfort, both flustered and panting and the spark of desire that's been twisting his entrails for months is there, fueled by his anger (and pain, and lust, and that dreaded L word that Remus doesn't – can't allow himself to feel for a betrayer).
"I fucking said I was sorry!" Sirius keeps looking him in the eye, and Remus can hear honesty in his tone, edged with desperation.
"And what good has your word been to me?" says the instinct-based part of Remus, the part that wouldn't trust anyone with his secrets if it were up to it, the part fed by too many visits to the Werewolf Registry and nights in the Ministry's cellars.
Sirius rakes his hands through his hair, finally breaking their gaze as he closes his eyes and turns his face to the right. "I- I though you'd be willing to forget about that by now." He says in a completely different voice, tired and worn, head lowered and his elbows resting on his knees.
"How could I ever, Padfoot?" The affectionate name slips off his mouth easily, and he mutters a curse when he realizes. Sirius though, turns to him; head still lowered in an act more proper of Padfoot than him, all submission and apologies, and Remus' throat goes dry at the sight. And then the anger it's back. "Stop that! It's just low using that kind of tricks with me."
"Well what do you want me to do, then? Go down on my knees?" says Sirius looking like Sirius again, tall, straight back and eyes shining with anger. "I'll fucking do anything, Remus!"
Remus remains quiet, playing with a white sheet edge. His chin is up, trying to show the determination he doesn't really feel. He had waited for this conversation to happen for months, but he hadn't imagined it having it with James' snores as a background, on his bed, as he's wearing his second-worst pyjamas.
Sirius sighs again. "I'd thought that after last night, things would be okay."
Last night. Oh shit.
Remus turns his head the other way, blushing bright red under Sirius' gaze. "Last night?" he asks in a broken voice, wishing, hoping Sirius will buy the supposed amnesia.
"I know you remember, so don't even try denying it." Sirius doesn't look at him as he says it, and Remus notices with a vague feeling of satisfaction that he's blushing too.
"Look, last night, was, um…" wonderful, amazing, everything I've dreamt of for years "A mistake." Remus averts his eyes, and looks out of the window.
Sirius turns as if he had been slapped. "What?" his mouth is hanging open, as if he couldn't believe what he's been told. "What do you mean with a mistake?"
"Exactly that, Sirius, a drunken mistake." he lies with a shrug. Sirius looks like he's going to murder something, and Remus can't help but feel apprehensive.
Without any kind of warning, Sirius grabs the collar of his hole infested shirt, and drags him forward, a sudden kiss that's bound to leave bruises and that leaves Remus' mind in a complete and utter blank. Remus lets himself be kissed, too numb to do anything else, trapped in the blankets and depending on Sirius' balance after the movement takes his equilibrium away.
(The world spins, dark hair and clear eyes and warm mouth, everything that feels real in this moment).
Sirius lets him go, pushing him back to the bed in where he lays panting and wanting and waiting for something, closed eyes and erratic heartbeat. Sirius's weight on his bed disappears, but he doesn't dare looking up, doesn't dare looking at Sirius.
"Fuck you and your mistakes, Remus." There are footsteps, and Remus knows he will leave the room, to go Merlin knows where, and he can't let him go like this.
"You have no right to talk to me like that, you bastard!" he says lifting himself up to his elbows, not knowing exactly what he's saying. Sirius gives him the finger, not bothering to turn to face him, and he closes the door with as much strength as he can muster, waking Peter and James up in the process.
Remus sinks back into his bed, hands covering his face and very desperately wanting to scream his guts out. Outside, bruise-purple clouds shroud the sky and Remus can feel something coming, but whether is rain, snow, or loneliness; he can't tell.
(He eventually goes back to sleep, and Sirius haunts him in his dreams).