Remus and Sirius go camping
A decidedly sharp elbow jabbed the small of Remus' back as he stirred on the blanket beneath him—the only thing separating himself from the bumpy, cold, hard ground in the woods.
Sirius shifted, nudging his shoulders over until Remus felt his cold nose brush against his neck. They hadn’t considered how cold it would get when the sun set (“Yes, Moons, I think it’s the sun that makes it hot during the day, you see.”), so they had taken every blanket and quilt and coat from Remus’ rinky-dink car in order to combat the chill.
“I’m freezing my bloody bullocks off.”
Remus couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. His hot breath grazed over Sirius’ face, as his fiancé was now peering down at him, just inches from his lips.
“Sounds painful.” Remus shot up to give him a cheeky peck before tucking back in quickly.
Sirius sighed the sigh of one incredibly scorned but much too exhausted to put any true tone into it. He instead settled for laying atop Remus, tucking his face against the warmth of his neck and letting his arms encompass Remus’ upper body completely.
Remus had been rather grumpy since they’d set up camp. A damp chill had settled on the low-lying dip their tent rested on the moment the sun began tucking itself behind the horizon. The cold made his joints ache and his nose cold, and his mind wander towards thoughts of July and ice creams and Sirius in a white t-shirt, eyes closed as he lazed on the thick grass of Hyde Park with the sun toasting his skin and warming his bones.
The soft sounds of Diana's fountains washed around them like the distant sound of rain, and Sirius’ eyes had flickered open, blinking slowly, a lazy grin sweeping across his face, drawing out those precious laugh lines and turning the corners of his bright eyes upwards.
He had stretched his arms above his head languidly, letting a bit of skin peak out below the hem of his shirt. And Remus had taken the small, velvet box out from his jean pocket. And Sirius didn’t look surprised by the box, by the question, by the unimpressive size of the ring. He simply looked warm and happy.
But, then again, Sirius was summertime.
And Remus was glad to have him draped across him as they both slowly warmed under thick blankets, with only the sounds of breeze running through bare trees and the hoots of owls cutting through the dark silence of the woods.
“Moons?” Sirius breathed against his neck. Remus was happy to find his nose no longer cold. “Tell me a story?”
Remus, as per, took a bit of time before answering. He let a hand find Sirius’ back beneath layers of covers and clothing until his fingertips felt soft, warm skin. They whispered against it, taking their time stroking up and down. Sirius had always loved being touched like that—lightly, delicately, just because, just because Remus felt like touching him.
When they’d been idiot 16-year-olds, rooming together at a school in the north, totally unaware of what brewed between them, Remus would wake up in this very position—Sirius draped over him, his breaths brushing his neck, as his hands would roam Sirius' back beneath the covers.
He loved watching Sirius' eyes slowly open and hearing his soft groans as he woke completely comfortable and at ease draped across his very good, very platonic friend.
Remus delighted that Sirius would slowly wake while Remus’ fingers whispered against his skin. And Sirius would smile that same lazy, warm smirk. And Remus wished he’d never wasted time—that he’d been braver, that he’d known what his feelings were for Sirius sooner.
Remus hummed in reply, Sirius’ elbow again stirring him from his thoughts. “Once upon a time, in a scary, horrid castle lived an absolute fucking idiot, who roomed with another fucking idiot. But this other idiot was rather lovely, in every definition of the word—”
“Oi, shush,” Remus laid a finger against Sirius soft lips. “So, the absolute fucking idiot one day decided to don his armour—oh, and he’s a knight—so he put on all his what-nots and walked over to the lovely idiot and stuttered his way into a date with the lovely sod.”
Sirius hummed against Remus’ shoulder. “You’re talking about the date I didn’t actually know was a date?”
“No,” Remus laughed. “The date you pretended not to know was a date.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “This lovely idiot was a lovely fucking coward.”
Remus fervently kissed the top of Sirius’ head, breathing in the scent of his coconut shampoo. “Don’t talk about him like that.” His hand resumed its trailing. “Now, the lovely idiot had shown up to the pier on the Black Lake looking quite fantastic—wearing that black button-down, and his hair. Well, back then—”
“Oh, this is a ghost story, is it?” Sirius quipped. “Sounds horrifying.”
“Love, shut up,” he said, giving his head yet another kiss. “All-in-all, what a couple of idiots. But they figured it out, huh?” Remus hand climbed up to meet Sirius’ which rested on Remus’ chest. Remus’ fingers fiddled with the thin band wrapped around Sirius’ slender finger.
“Yeah, I did.”