LMoM: Scentillation (Revisited) #29 [Remus/Sirius, PG-13] Title:Scentillation (Revisited) #29: Wulric the Wolfman Author:pre_raphaelite1 Pairing: Remus/Sirius (if you squint), Remus/OMC Rating: PG-13 Kink(s): None really, sorry... Challenge: LMoM 2008 Word Count: 640 Notes: All subtitles and summaries are names and descriptions of perfume oils from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and therefore belong to the BPAL powers that be. I'm merely fangirling them with Remus/Sirius pron. And HP belongs to JKR, of course. Click on the pervy_werewolf tag of my username for previous entries. Today's Scent Description/Summary: Friendly, charming, and cuddly, but possessing one hell of a mean streak: cocoa absolute, French vanilla, birch tar, lavender, bourbon vetiver, wild musk, clary sage, and citrus.
Scentillation(Revisited) #29: Wulric the Wolfman
The lights of the club were low as the hours slid into the darkness, slinking into the shadowed booths and climbing into the smoky rafters. Those who sought to find where the time had gone were slumped in their chairs to check the floor or were waiting patiently for it to crawl back into their lives with a tearful apology and a slightly dented box of chocolates. But time is a cold-hearted bastard who has made an art of escaping unnoticed from a crowded room of even the most dedicated of clock-watchers and then not calling in the morning.
Remus had watched him perform the same act over and over, had even assisted in the ruse, supplying empty hands with drinks and emptier hearts with liquid hope. Every so often, even Remus didn't know how to keep a close enough eye on days, he thought he might have given more than just what came from a bottle or a tap. Maybe it was a foolish optimism, but it's what he had, besides glasses to wash and a floor to sweep.
People had stopped trickling out after he had mixed the last drink. The handful that remained were either too drunk to drag themselves out of their chairs or were hoping to convince the quietly attractive bloke behind the bar to go home with them after his shift. It was a good night when they weren't doing both, all the more valued for its rarity.
He was wiping down the polished counter with a dry cloth when a twenty pound note suddenly appeared in his path. The hand that was holding it was steady and elegant, nails closely manicured. All the tabs had been closed, bills tallied, change given, tips collected. He looked up at the owner of the hand: an older man, perhaps in his late forties, his long brown hair tied back in a simple queue. His skin was pale- too pale- and his eyes too bright. This was one man who spent a long evening in the smothering arms of time, but sucked every second from him before leaving him bloodless in a back-alley. Something that Remus had no intention of copying, despite considering it more than he cared to imagine after losing everything in the early morning laughter following one green-soaked night.
“May I help you, old friend?” Remus raised one eyebrow at him, pointedly not taking the offered money.
He laughed quietly. “Probably not in the way you are thinking. I know the value of an attractive pup like yourself and it is not twenty quid.”
Remus nodded once, now that identifications had been made clear enough. “For what then?”
“A song.”
“Pardon?”
The hand with the note swept out until it stretched in a line toward the sleek black piano at the center of the back wall. “A song.”
“I'm not the piano player.”
“I know. But you are a piano player, are you not?” The man inclined his head as he brought the note back to Remus. “One song, twenty quid.” He caught Remus glancing around at the mostly empty tables. “It's late enough that it's not a large audience if that's what you are worried about.”
“It is not, but thank you for the concern.” Remus wanted to know what he was really after, and for once let the curiosity show on his face, and the man's lips curved in a sharp grin.
“Nothing more than some music before the sun rises. Unless...” he trailed off, his hand curling out to offer up potentially endless possiblities.
Remus' eyes narrowed, “One prick or two- which does it end with?”
“Three if you really wish, but I assure you that there are three things upon which I feast, Remus Lupin... and the third is music.”
Due to being held hostage out of town and forced to grade essays for the whole weekend, I've gotten the prompts ahead of time for tomorrow and Saturday. Thanks to melangell for this one.