springsmutfairy (springsmutfairy) wrote in hp_springsmut, @ 2008-03-09 23:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic, james/sirius, slash |
Happy Springsmut, mewling!
Author: inthesewalls
Recipient: mewling
Title: Between
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): James/Sirius, mentioned James/Lily
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Officially speaking, the five of them share a flat. Unofficially speaking, James and Sirius share a moment in between assignments for the Order.
Warnings: None
Word Count: ~1800 words
Author's Notes: Happy Springsmut, mewling!
Officially speaking, all five of them shared a flat. That was what they'd agreed on at the end of seventh year (four months ago, before the passage of time between full moons had become murky and difficult to follow), all five of them pressed into one compartment on the Hogwarts Express, sitting knee to knee and with Dumbledore's soft speech still ringing in their heads.
Will you fight with us?
The flat was small and dingy. They hadn't agreed on that, but Remus' quiet pragmatism had quashed any argument before it started. Everything sagged gently inwards, lit by grim grey light filtered through windows that had no curtains but grime to make up for the lack. Inside it had smelt like dust and old wood. Warm air had tumbled through freshly opened windows to tumble the dust from the window sill.
Now everything was cut with the scent of October cold, dust on the windows replaced with fresh condensation.
James Potter rolled over, and pale morning light fell on his tired face.
Unofficially speaking, James Potter paid the lion's share of the rent on an empty flat, the Marauders-and-Lily pit stop. It's not home. It's just barely a place to stay when they're not out working for the Order (and they always are). The five of them had not been here all at once since the day they had all moved in, dumping repurposed Hogwarts trunks unceremoniously in corners and cupboards. They'd buy furniture when they needed it.
They'd gotten roaringly, stumblingly drunk that night, on fine liquor that Sirius had bought with his dead uncle's money and cheep beer that Lily and Remus had bought from the shop three blocks over, along with bread and milk. Sirius had fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence; Peter had stutteringly, frightenedly asked if maybe it was a bad idea for them — only two weeks out of Hogwarts, some of them only just competent in Defence — to be fighting Death Eaters for the Order. James and Remus had nodded in agreement, dark beer sloshing violently in carelessly held bottles.
They'd met Dumbledore the next morning anyway.
James rolled out of bed, tugging his pyjama shirt down around his hips. He shuffled into the bathroom and showered, shaved, and spat gargled toothpaste and spittle into the crazed porcelain of the bathroom sink.
He examined himself in the mirror. Half a night's sleep had served him well, and he'd come off rather better than Caradoc had. A thin red line still traced from his collarbone down past his nipple where he'd been caught by a well flung curse during an unexpected Death Eater attack as they approached the centaurs' field.
He rubbed salve on the few bruises that weren't already turning to mottled yellow and green, and decided on a cup of tea to fix the lagging exhaustion.
He dressed in the quiet.
No one else had come in during the night, he noticed as he walked down the hall towards the narrow kitchen, and no one had been there when he'd Apparated into the kitchen last night. Dumbledore's tasks had been growing steadily longer and more fraught: Lily and Remus had gone off to gather potions ingredients before the new moon, and that had been four days ago now. Sirius and Peter had disappeared after James had left with Dearborn for the north.
He put the kettle on and fumbled a chipped mug out of the overhead cupboards. He inspected the icebox while the kettle boiled: a block of cheese and a bottle of tomato sauce, one a tad green and the other very nearly empty; a bottle of milk (not yet as green as the cheese, but still probably unfit for consumption) nestled behind an assortment of phials, vials and beakers, each one labelled in Lily's meticulous hand.
He cut the mould off the cheese and then another slice for himself.
The crescendoing whistle of the kettle was abruptly cut through by the sharp snap of Apparition, and James stumbled back into the fridge door, setting Lily's potions clinking and reaching automatically for the wand that was still lying on the floor next to his pillow. Moody would have gone spare.
Sirius Black was standing in the middle of the kitchen, wide-eyed and with his black robe still settling gently around him. His cheeks were flushed pink over and even more drastically pale than usual, and his breath came in short gasps. He was swaying slightly on his feet.
"Sirius?"
"Hullo, Jim," replied Sirius, reaching out a hand to steady himself against the counter.
"Sirius, you're bleeding," said James, feeling his own voice slide frantically upwards in pitch.
There was a long rent in the front of Sirius' robes, the tattered edges drooping to show the white shirt underneath and the white skin underneath that. The skin was smeared with blood, the shirt and robes soaked. "I'm not," protested Sirius as James descended on him, peeling off the clothes until Sirius is bare-chested to examine the unbroken skin of Sirius' chest.
James set a hand on Sirius' hip to keep him still and upright and searched without success for the origin of the blood -- Sirius hummed at the sensation of James' cold fingers against his belly -- until a particularly horrible thought froze him. "Sirius, where's Peter?"
"Gone to 'port to Dumbledore," Sirius mumbled, and then laughed. "You should have seen it, Prongs. Wormtail near bit someone's finger off. It was brilliant."
James pulled back, startled, and Sirius staggered sideways at the sudden lack of support. James snatch at him again, holding him upright, and Sirius smiled down at him. "I thought you were just doing a bit of reconnaissance."
Sirius nodded, his grey eyes half-closed. "One of them grabbed Peter and then stuff got out o' hand, 'sall. One of 'em bled on me." James recognised the low tone; he'd heard it often before, when they had all spent every day studying for exams and every night drawing the Map. Sirius was about to collapse into a deep slumber. "Jus' need to lie down."
"C'mon, then, you cock." James slung Sirius' arm over his shoulder, taking a staggering step towards the door, and then another, with Sirius blundering along beside him. They navigated the hall at a snail's pace, Sirius clinging to James' collar.
They both toppled into Sirius' bed. James had been attempting to manoeuvre his friend neatly on to the mattress, but Sirius had obstinately refused to relinquish his hold on James, and instead very nearly pushed him onto the bed and then collapsed on top of him, sharp elbows, chin and hips finding all the right places to make James squirm.
"Ow. Ow! Gerroff, Sirius," James howled, shoving at Sirius' shoulder, but the other man had always been heavier built than James, and had learnt how to pin James when they were twelve. Sirius made a quiet noise of protest, his head tucked against James' neck, until James ceased struggling.
Shortly Sirius began to snore quietly, hands still bunched in James' old shirt. Not too long after that, James drifted back to sleep, bare feet dangling off the edge of the mattress and glasses gradually falling off onto the rumpled sheets.
The stove knew well enough to turn itself off as the kettle began to boil dry.
Sirius woke, feeling comfortable and safe in a way that had been rare these last few months. Mid-morning light had become late afternoon light, sunlight that was only just still yellow painting lurid stripes against the wall of the bedroom he had shared with James.
James was still pressed flush against him, one leg between Sirius' and his face pressed into the hollow of Sirius' neck. Sirius shifted, trying to work out a kink in his back, and was abruptly aware of James' erection against his hip, and his own responding hardness.
He froze, panic rising, and then attempted to disentangle himself gently from his friend's sleeping form. James rolled with him, moaning, and Sirius stilled with a gasp when their cocks touched. James noticed too, and Sirius found himself staring up into James' sleep-hazy brown eyes.
"Pa'foot," James muttered, voice low and tired. James bucked his hips, pressing their cocks together until they moaned in unison.
James took his mouth in a kiss, his lips warm and soft against Sirius' own. Sirius kissed back, his hands sliding down James' back to grasp at his hips as his hips jerked upwards. James broke the kiss with a lopsided grin, and then broke all contact, kneeling up. Sirius groaned at the loss of pressure, rutting against the empty air.
Sirius' disappointment was quelled in an instant at the sensation of James' hand against his straining cock. Sirius sucked in a harsh breath, his hips moving upwards of their own accord.
He wasn't expecting James to burrow a hand beneath the waistband of his pants, and when it came, all he could do was lean into the touch, eyes rolling back in his head. Sex had been the last thing on his mind these last few months, and in these few seconds it had all come flooding back as James wrapped a hand around his hard length.
He came faster than he'd every admit, staring wildly at the cocky grin on James' face, his fists clenched in the sheets. His low cry was muffled by James' kiss, the sweat on his chest glistening dusky orange as the sun outside surrendered to oncoming night.
Peter reappeared just before tea, looking exhausted and bearing the news that Dumbledore wanted to see Sirius in the morning. Sirius looked pale at the thought: Dumbledore's debriefings always seemed much worse before and after the fact. Peter left again, after a shower, to spend the weekend with his mother, leaving James and Sirius in the awkward atmosphere that had filled the flat since Sirius had returned James' favour.
Remus and Lily returned shortly after dinner (toasted cheese sandwiches and stifling silence), and the quiet flat was no longer quiet as Remus and Lily regaled the two boys with stories of poison ivy and Devil's Snare tearing down their tent on the night of the new moon. They spoke into the early hours, Sirius trying not to stare too awkwardly at the way James touched Lily's hair.
In the end they did not have the chance to talk to each other privately until after Sirius had come back from Hogwarts. The noon light flooded their bedroom, illuminating two beds: one carefully made and untouched, the other still scattered with rumpled sheets.
Sirius broke the silence. "It didn't mean anything." James ducked a look at him sideways, hands jammed in his trouser pockets.
James nodded, ruffling his hair self-consciously. "I missed Lily," he offered.
Sirius snorted, breaking into a grin. "Evans wouldn't touch you like that with a ten foot pole," he said, and James made a face and a rude gesture.
"You'd be surprised what Lily'll do. There's this thing with her tongue..." Sirius laughed, the warm sound echoing in the small room.
"I don't believe a word of it."
James stood up, setting a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "I'll prove it," he said firmly.
"Yeah?" said Sirius, grinning up at his friend. The light caught James' face, making his dark eyes shine behind the frames of his horn-rimmed glasses.
"Yeah."