Bones - James/Sirius
Jun. 7th, 2009 02:27 am![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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megans_writing’s requests. Never written or read this pairing either, but it’s nothing deep so…
Bones
Fandom:Harry Potter
Pairing: James/Sirius
James says, “Sirius?”
Sirius says, “Shhh..”
Lily has gone home for the winter break. Peter, gone. Remus, gone. Outside, the clouds mass. Wet, heavy rains will fall soon, drenching the school ground. James knows it will be heavy, he can feel it in this thrum of the bone right where he fell off his broom in third year and sent half the girls into hysteria with his shattered leg.
Sirius knows because he can smell it, just like he’d smelt it the night before when he’d gotten on his paws and belly and crawled across the forest just for the heck of it.
“How long do you suppose it will rain for?”, Sirius asks, and James thinks. Stutters in his head a bit thanks to the hot mouth at his neck, sucking up bruises. Says, “Maybe all day.”
“All night.” Sirius mumbles, like a correction, like he knows it. Any other day, moment, James would say “what are you, king of the weather?” or something smarter, sharper – but no. Sirius groans, growls against his skin, and James can feel that in his bones, too, sinking under his skin.
megans_writing’s requests. Never written or read this pairing either, but it’s nothing deep so…Bones
Fandom:Harry Potter
Pairing: James/Sirius
James says, “Sirius?”
Sirius says, “Shhh..”
Lily has gone home for the winter break. Peter, gone. Remus, gone. Outside, the clouds mass. Wet, heavy rains will fall soon, drenching the school ground. James knows it will be heavy, he can feel it in this thrum of the bone right where he fell off his broom in third year and sent half the girls into hysteria with his shattered leg.
Sirius knows because he can smell it, just like he’d smelt it the night before when he’d gotten on his paws and belly and crawled across the forest just for the heck of it.
“How long do you suppose it will rain for?”, Sirius asks, and James thinks. Stutters in his head a bit thanks to the hot mouth at his neck, sucking up bruises. Says, “Maybe all day.”
“All night.” Sirius mumbles, like a correction, like he knows it. Any other day, moment, James would say “what are you, king of the weather?” or something smarter, sharper – but no. Sirius groans, growls against his skin, and James can feel that in his bones, too, sinking under his skin.