Paper Birds
Tuesday, August 2nd, 2005 10:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
orange_crushedR/S, written for dogdaysofsummer. The challenge is August the Second.
...with them is Sirius, and a satchel full of Sirius-things: exploding snap cards, a muggle comic book, clean underwear, bits of wire and string, a pocketknife, a map of Brighton. A bent hairbrush, with one or two of Remus's hairs still stuck on it. He ought to know. It's one week until the moon, and he could not come along.
So. Remus Lupin kicks the lid off of his trunk instead of using his hands, mostly because he's fifteen. Partially because there is something in it he wants. Entirely because of Sirius.
James and his happy, ruddy family are on their way to the shore; with them is Sirius, and a satchel full of Sirius-things: exploding snap cards, a muggle comic book, clean underwear, bits of wire and string, a pocketknife, a map of Brighton. A bent hairbrush, with one or two of Remus's hairs still stuck on it. He ought to know. It's one week until the moon, and he could not come along.
It's no consolation at all that Peter is staying home as well; his mum is sick. Remus isn't the kind of boy to triumph in such things. They will be miserable apart, equally as miserable as James and Sirius will be happy together. He's not jealous. He just feels dead. It will always be like this.
He rifles around in the trunk, finds the letter. Stares at the apology. Puts it back away.
They sat in the same car on the train, without James and Peter; Peter left a day or so early from school, his mum was unwell. James was sitting with Evans across the corridor, and she was hitting him with an empty box of ice mice. It was deserved.
"Moony," he started, and Remus could feel the nervous energy in the leg leaning oh-so-close to his own. "Moony, we're going to be old soon."
"Daft."
"I'm serious as the grave." he says, eyes wide and full of unplayed mischief, missed opportunities for jokes. "We've got to take advantage this summer. Be a rotten, awful mess."
"You always are." Remus sinks back into the seat, sweat pulling his skin with the folds of his shirt. "Anything in mind just yet ?"
"No." he is honestly disappointed. "But we'll have all summer to think it up, you and I." He is smiling a cat's smile, which is out of character and species. Remus looks at their bags on the rack over their heads, his battered and respectable, Sirius's expensive and iredeemably filthy. They are leaning against one another. They look like two old friends; or two trees that grew together, from the wind. Sirius is coming home with him this year, for the summer. The whole summer. Him, and not James.
"Yes." he says, and a tug in his chest stops him from saying more.
So. I'm terribly sorry you can't come, old blighter, it says, but I'll bring you back fantastic things: mermaids, seaweed, lobsters, the chance to fix my sunburn and therefore save legions of Britons from the horrors of the Pink Lad Without Shame. Remus wishes he was not a monster and a beast, he could bring these things back on his own; or better yet, he could watch Sirius injure himself trying to get them all, and laughing his dog's laugh.
They'll be there by now, unpacking their bags, standing in front of the windows and saying stupid things about the beach, the sand, the air. Sirius will have already changed into his trunks, possibly in front of everyone, and run off into the world like a stone from a slingshot, heedless and somehow always safe.
Remus goes downstairs, into the yard, where it's cool. He can sulk in the shade at least. He lays down underneath a tree, one with a broken limb, the wake of Hurricane Sirius.
He really can't be so childish. They've had a month anyway, sitting here in the shade of the apple trees, listening to the wind creak the empty seats on the swingset at night. Sirius swings higher than Remus does, because he's not afraid that it will break.
"That's mine !" he shouts, arm flung up in an arc to the heavens. "There I am !" He falls off, backwards, to make Remus laugh. They went to the nearest town and Remus took him to the movies, which he'd been to before, but not one as nice he says. They drink lemonade made by Remus's mother and charm paper birds to eat the mosquitos that swarm around the pond.
Remus thinks that he has never had so much fun in his life. A full moon goes by, and he feels that he hardly notices. Padfoot is there and the earth smells like summer, hot and rich with dirt; so the wolf sleeps a little, and Remus is almost well the next day.
They climb out of bed when the sheets are unbearable and lie on the floor, wrist touching wrist, Remus unable to speak for fear of what would start, and what would end.
Sirius will be back in a week, just a week, he tells himself, and it isn't fair that he should have to miss it. It isn't fair to keep him here. He isn't mine. He can think such things when he's alone. In a way Sirius leaving has eased some of the reckless strange proximity between them both, or which maybe Remus has only imagined. He dreams of falling off a cliff, and of Sirius catching him at the bottom.
There's a noise in the yard, the scrabbling of claw against bare board, and Remus sits up.
He searches for the noise and finds nothing, only more sweltering heat. He sits down on the swings for a long minute, and closes his eyes. He could pretend Sirius was here, knocking the seats together, insisting that he was the battering ram and Remus the castle.
It's strangely appropriate.
He opens his eyes and he is looking at a great black dog, tongue lolling from its mouth, a satchel on the ground in front of it. A comic book is peeking out. The dog takes a couple of steps and sneezes; it closes the distance between them and wipes his nose ungracefully on Remus's pocket. A shaggy head is laid in his lap. He has come all the way on foot, from the train station, Sirius will tell him that later. Sirius will tell him that he could not go without him any more than fish can live in the trees. He could not find a way to say it in English, what he is saying now.
Remus tries to say thank you but he cannot say anything at all. His mouth is filled with his heart. He strokes the shaggy head in silence, and wonders what comes next.
...with them is Sirius, and a satchel full of Sirius-things: exploding snap cards, a muggle comic book, clean underwear, bits of wire and string, a pocketknife, a map of Brighton. A bent hairbrush, with one or two of Remus's hairs still stuck on it. He ought to know. It's one week until the moon, and he could not come along.
So. Remus Lupin kicks the lid off of his trunk instead of using his hands, mostly because he's fifteen. Partially because there is something in it he wants. Entirely because of Sirius.
James and his happy, ruddy family are on their way to the shore; with them is Sirius, and a satchel full of Sirius-things: exploding snap cards, a muggle comic book, clean underwear, bits of wire and string, a pocketknife, a map of Brighton. A bent hairbrush, with one or two of Remus's hairs still stuck on it. He ought to know. It's one week until the moon, and he could not come along.
It's no consolation at all that Peter is staying home as well; his mum is sick. Remus isn't the kind of boy to triumph in such things. They will be miserable apart, equally as miserable as James and Sirius will be happy together. He's not jealous. He just feels dead. It will always be like this.
He rifles around in the trunk, finds the letter. Stares at the apology. Puts it back away.
They sat in the same car on the train, without James and Peter; Peter left a day or so early from school, his mum was unwell. James was sitting with Evans across the corridor, and she was hitting him with an empty box of ice mice. It was deserved.
"Moony," he started, and Remus could feel the nervous energy in the leg leaning oh-so-close to his own. "Moony, we're going to be old soon."
"Daft."
"I'm serious as the grave." he says, eyes wide and full of unplayed mischief, missed opportunities for jokes. "We've got to take advantage this summer. Be a rotten, awful mess."
"You always are." Remus sinks back into the seat, sweat pulling his skin with the folds of his shirt. "Anything in mind just yet ?"
"No." he is honestly disappointed. "But we'll have all summer to think it up, you and I." He is smiling a cat's smile, which is out of character and species. Remus looks at their bags on the rack over their heads, his battered and respectable, Sirius's expensive and iredeemably filthy. They are leaning against one another. They look like two old friends; or two trees that grew together, from the wind. Sirius is coming home with him this year, for the summer. The whole summer. Him, and not James.
"Yes." he says, and a tug in his chest stops him from saying more.
So. I'm terribly sorry you can't come, old blighter, it says, but I'll bring you back fantastic things: mermaids, seaweed, lobsters, the chance to fix my sunburn and therefore save legions of Britons from the horrors of the Pink Lad Without Shame. Remus wishes he was not a monster and a beast, he could bring these things back on his own; or better yet, he could watch Sirius injure himself trying to get them all, and laughing his dog's laugh.
They'll be there by now, unpacking their bags, standing in front of the windows and saying stupid things about the beach, the sand, the air. Sirius will have already changed into his trunks, possibly in front of everyone, and run off into the world like a stone from a slingshot, heedless and somehow always safe.
Remus goes downstairs, into the yard, where it's cool. He can sulk in the shade at least. He lays down underneath a tree, one with a broken limb, the wake of Hurricane Sirius.
He really can't be so childish. They've had a month anyway, sitting here in the shade of the apple trees, listening to the wind creak the empty seats on the swingset at night. Sirius swings higher than Remus does, because he's not afraid that it will break.
"That's mine !" he shouts, arm flung up in an arc to the heavens. "There I am !" He falls off, backwards, to make Remus laugh. They went to the nearest town and Remus took him to the movies, which he'd been to before, but not one as nice he says. They drink lemonade made by Remus's mother and charm paper birds to eat the mosquitos that swarm around the pond.
Remus thinks that he has never had so much fun in his life. A full moon goes by, and he feels that he hardly notices. Padfoot is there and the earth smells like summer, hot and rich with dirt; so the wolf sleeps a little, and Remus is almost well the next day.
They climb out of bed when the sheets are unbearable and lie on the floor, wrist touching wrist, Remus unable to speak for fear of what would start, and what would end.
Sirius will be back in a week, just a week, he tells himself, and it isn't fair that he should have to miss it. It isn't fair to keep him here. He isn't mine. He can think such things when he's alone. In a way Sirius leaving has eased some of the reckless strange proximity between them both, or which maybe Remus has only imagined. He dreams of falling off a cliff, and of Sirius catching him at the bottom.
There's a noise in the yard, the scrabbling of claw against bare board, and Remus sits up.
He searches for the noise and finds nothing, only more sweltering heat. He sits down on the swings for a long minute, and closes his eyes. He could pretend Sirius was here, knocking the seats together, insisting that he was the battering ram and Remus the castle.
It's strangely appropriate.
He opens his eyes and he is looking at a great black dog, tongue lolling from its mouth, a satchel on the ground in front of it. A comic book is peeking out. The dog takes a couple of steps and sneezes; it closes the distance between them and wipes his nose ungracefully on Remus's pocket. A shaggy head is laid in his lap. He has come all the way on foot, from the train station, Sirius will tell him that later. Sirius will tell him that he could not go without him any more than fish can live in the trees. He could not find a way to say it in English, what he is saying now.
Remus tries to say thank you but he cannot say anything at all. His mouth is filled with his heart. He strokes the shaggy head in silence, and wonders what comes next.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: Tuesday, August 2nd, 2005 08:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, August 2nd, 2005 08:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, August 2nd, 2005 08:22 am (UTC)Your writing fills me with hope, perhaps the most difficult thing to accomplish with the pairing.
I believe, though, there is some tense mix-up in the second section?
no subject
Date: Tuesday, August 2nd, 2005 08:35 am (UTC)Hee.
Yes, there probably is. I scorn the editing process ! I am retarded.
no subject
Date: Tuesday, August 2nd, 2005 08:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, August 4th, 2005 06:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, August 2nd, 2005 10:50 am (UTC)Remus tries to say thank you but he cannot say anything at all. His mouth is filled with his heart. *whimper*
and the letter is poetry, pure and simple. ♥
no subject
Date: Thursday, August 4th, 2005 06:31 am (UTC)Anyway. Thanks !
no subject
Date: Tuesday, August 2nd, 2005 01:16 pm (UTC)Remus looks at their bags on the rack over their heads, his battered and respectable, Sirius's expensive and iredeemably filthy.
I love that line and the way you constantly illustrate the little differences between them throughout the fic.
no subject
Date: Thursday, August 4th, 2005 06:32 am (UTC)And I'm glad you noticed that ! I like their differences, and how they come together despite (and maybe because) of everything.
no subject
Date: Friday, August 5th, 2005 09:29 pm (UTC)I love you sir/ma'am.
no subject
Date: Sunday, August 7th, 2005 02:00 pm (UTC)Ha, this is too good to be true. I'm so glad you have an lj, rock. Now I have to go read it because I have not visited FFN (or most of the rest of the internet) in essentially forever. And it's ma'am, er, miss.
Dangity ding dang.
no subject
Date: Monday, August 8th, 2005 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Wednesday, October 19th, 2005 10:17 am (UTC)and also, you know, Remus/Sirius *love*