hp fic: Maybe Even Tomorrow
Title: Maybe Even Tomorrow
Pairing: James/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In which Sirius takes a chance at what he wants.
A/N: Written for![[personal profile]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=88)
slashfest, here. Thanks to ![[personal profile]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88)
darkasphodel, happiestwhen and ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thysanotus for everything.
Maybe Even Tomorrow
::
The door bangs open and James bounds into the room.
A wide smile splits his face, and behind his glasses, his hazel eyes sparkle with an almost maniacal gleam. His hair's a riot, a frenzy of disheveled spikes, like he'd pulled on it the whole way up the stairs.
Sirius waits, his chest tightening. He knows what's coming.
"Sirius!" James says. His eyes are wide and wild, and the air around him seems to crackle with nervous energy. "Sirius!"
"She said yes, then?" Sirius asks, forcing a smile over the sinking feeling in his stomach.
"Not really," James replies, sitting on the edge of his bed to fumble with his shoes and socks. "Almost."
"Almost," Sirius repeats.
James pauses, changing into the tatty shorts he sleeps in, and Sirius tries to sort out how a bird almost agrees to a date.
"She said... well, she said--"
"She said you should keep it down, because your mates are trying to sleep." This from Remus, in a voice that's growly and irritated, and Peter snores loudly in agreement.
James aims a rude gesture in the direction of Remus' bed, but he doesn't argue. Remus is always tetchy this close to the full moon. He glances at Sirius, then crawls into his bed. Sirius follows, yanking the drapes closed behind him, stretching out as James casts a Silencing Charm.
"Right," Sirius says. "What did she say?"
"She said no," James admits, his cheeks colouring. He's at the head of the bed, cross-legged with his back against the headboard. "But not straight off. She had to think about it."
Sirius can picture it, because he's seen it before. James asking, his voice hopeful, plaintive, and Evans hesitating, wrinkling her nose in a way that disrupts the dusting of freckles across the bridge. Evans saying no, almost uncertainly, and whirling around, disappearing under a cloud of hair.
"That's definitely an improvement," James goes on. "At the beginning of term, she'd hex me before I could get the words out."
Sirius rolls onto his stomach, drumming his fingers on the duvet next to James' knee, and makes a noise he hopes is agreeable. He's never liked James' infatuation with Evans, but he likes it even less now that Evans has stopped hating him. She seems close to caving, lately, and Sirius knows if she does, he'll lose his best friend.
"Who are you going with?" James asks, nudging Sirius' arm.
"Where? Hogsmeade?" Sirius shrugs and picks at the duvet. "You, I guess. I was going to ask McKinnon if Evans said yes, but she didn't."
"Ask her anyway," James says, sliding down until he's lying on the bed. He folds his arms behind his head and his shirt rides up, exposing a thin strip of flat belly.
"Nah," Sirius replies. "Wormtail thinks she's going with Shacklebolt, anyway. 'Sides, I'd rather go with you."
"Well," James says slowly. "I'm going to ask Evans again tomorrow."
"Oh," Sirius says, the tightness in his chest returning. He twists a loose thread around his finger and pulls until it snaps. "I'll just stay here, then. The moon's the night before, so Moony'll need someone around."
"If you like," James replies. He sounds disappointed, almost hurt. "If you ask someone, and Evans says yes, we can go together. You know, the four of us."
Sirius brightens at this momentarily, but it fades quickly. Going to Hogsmeade with James while trying to entertain two birds is not the same as going with just James. It'll be holding hands at that horrid Puddifoot place instead of pranks and Zonkos and Butterbeers, and that's not what Sirius wants.
James with Evans is not what Sirius wants.
"Nah," Sirius says. "Go, if she says yes. I'll stay here with Moony. Hogsmeade is no fun with birds, anyway."
James starts to speak, but the words don't come out, turning into an exhaled breath just before leaving his mouth. There's a pause then, which is not entirely companionable, and this bothers Sirius more than Evans or Hogsmeade or anything else, because he can't remember a time -- even on the day they met -- when he and James couldn't find something to say.
"I really like her, Sirius," James says finally. It almost sounds apologetic, and that bothers Sirius, too.
"I know, Prongs. I know."
More silence. James sighs, and scratches his shin with his foot. He manages to kick Sirius before he settles, his foot brushing against Sirius' leg. Sirius shivers at that, at the rough slide of skin against skin, and his blood warms, racing through his veins.
"Just, I--"
"I know," Sirius says, because he does.
He knows what James wants and he knows what he wants, and he wishes that just for a moment, they were not two completely different things.
Evans will give in one of these days, maybe even tomorrow, and when she does, he'll lose James, lose his chance at what he wants.
Sirius rolls to his side and reaches out, brushing his fingers over the sliver of skin visible between James' shirt and shorts. James jerks a bit, his muscles twitching under Sirius' hand, and Sirius slides it up to his chest, running a finger over one of James' nipples.
"Sirius!"
Sirius shifts, sliding on top of James, their legs tangling together, and leans down until he and James are practically nose to nose.
"Sirius, stop it," James says, his hands flying up to Sirius' shoulders. "What are you doing?"
"Something I should have done a long time ago," Sirius replies. He tilts his head, and his lips brush the corner of James' mouth as he speaks. "Something I need to do before Evans gives in and takes you away."
His tongue darts out, tasting James' skin, and James gasps.
"I don't like blokes," James argues.
"Neither do I," Sirius says, and it's true. He doesn't like blokes; he just likes James.
Sirius doesn't understand why he likes James, why James makes him want, and he never has, that's just how it's always been. He presses closer, finding James hard against his hip in spite of his protests, and Sirius decides why is not important.
He slides his mouth over to James', kissing him, his tongue flicking over James' lips. James gasps, his fingers digging into Sirius' shoulders, but his mouth falls open, and when Sirius' tongue slides inside James' darts out to meet it.
James' hands leave Sirius shoulders to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, crushing their mouths together. James kisses like he does everything else, with everything he has, and it's absolutely brilliant, it's salt and sweat at James and stubble rasping rough against Sirius' jaw.
Sirius kisses down to James' neck, scraping his teeth over sweat-slick skin, and he rocks his hips, grinding their cocks together. James moans, a low sound that rumbles in his chest, and he arches off the bed, pressing closer.
"Sir--" James starts, cut off by Sirius rucking up his shirt and closing his mouth around a nipple. "What--"
He dissolves into moans, one hand still twisting in Sirius' hair, the other pulling desperately at the duvet. Sirius swirls is tongue around the nipple, flicking the tip over it again and again, and reaches down to shove at James' shorts, his hand fumbling over James' cock.
Sirius slides down James' body, stroking as best he can with his arm at such an awkward angle, nosing at the trail of hair leading away from James' navel. James' breathing hitches, quickens, and his body tenses, muscles shifting taut and tight under overheated skin.
James' cock feels strange and foreign in Sirius' mouth, and he doesn't have the first clue what he's doing, but the noise James makes is beautiful, desperate and raw. James arches off the bed, thrusting shallowly into Sirius' mouth, so Sirius sucks him harder, sliding his lips down the length and stroking the underside with his tongue.
And it doesn't matter that Sirius doesn't know what he's doing, because right now, James is here and James his. James is hot and hard in his mouth and James is trembling under his hands, James' fingers are scratching at his shoulders and James is trying, but failing, to whisper his name.
James comes in a rush of warmth and salt, his hips snapping up, his cock pushing just a bit too far down Sirius' throat. Sirius swallows it all, swallows James, licking and sucking until James' cock stops pulsing, until James is shaking and spent.
Sirius crawls back up James' body, the slide of James' leg against his cock making him shudder and gasp. James pulls him down and kisses him, licking at his mouth, and he worms a hand between the press of their bodies, tugging at Sirius' shorts.
James' hand is warm and sweaty and perfect, his fingers curled tightly, his thumb swirling over the head of Sirius' cock. He strokes Sirius hard and fast, his face hidden in Sirius' neck, and when Sirius comes he can still taste James on his tongue.
There's silence again, but this time it's companionable. Sirius rests his head on James' shoulder, and listens to the hammering of James' heart.
"Sirius," James says finally, his voice thin, reedy. "We--"
"I know, Prongs. I know."
"But."
"She'll give in," Sirius says, moving off James and pulling up his shorts. "One of these days. Maybe even tomorrow."
FIN
Pairing: James/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In which Sirius takes a chance at what he wants.
A/N: Written for
slashfest, here. Thanks to darkasphodel, happiestwhen and thysanotus for everything.::
The door bangs open and James bounds into the room.
A wide smile splits his face, and behind his glasses, his hazel eyes sparkle with an almost maniacal gleam. His hair's a riot, a frenzy of disheveled spikes, like he'd pulled on it the whole way up the stairs.
Sirius waits, his chest tightening. He knows what's coming.
"Sirius!" James says. His eyes are wide and wild, and the air around him seems to crackle with nervous energy. "Sirius!"
"She said yes, then?" Sirius asks, forcing a smile over the sinking feeling in his stomach.
"Not really," James replies, sitting on the edge of his bed to fumble with his shoes and socks. "Almost."
"Almost," Sirius repeats.
James pauses, changing into the tatty shorts he sleeps in, and Sirius tries to sort out how a bird almost agrees to a date.
"She said... well, she said--"
"She said you should keep it down, because your mates are trying to sleep." This from Remus, in a voice that's growly and irritated, and Peter snores loudly in agreement.
James aims a rude gesture in the direction of Remus' bed, but he doesn't argue. Remus is always tetchy this close to the full moon. He glances at Sirius, then crawls into his bed. Sirius follows, yanking the drapes closed behind him, stretching out as James casts a Silencing Charm.
"Right," Sirius says. "What did she say?"
"She said no," James admits, his cheeks colouring. He's at the head of the bed, cross-legged with his back against the headboard. "But not straight off. She had to think about it."
Sirius can picture it, because he's seen it before. James asking, his voice hopeful, plaintive, and Evans hesitating, wrinkling her nose in a way that disrupts the dusting of freckles across the bridge. Evans saying no, almost uncertainly, and whirling around, disappearing under a cloud of hair.
"That's definitely an improvement," James goes on. "At the beginning of term, she'd hex me before I could get the words out."
Sirius rolls onto his stomach, drumming his fingers on the duvet next to James' knee, and makes a noise he hopes is agreeable. He's never liked James' infatuation with Evans, but he likes it even less now that Evans has stopped hating him. She seems close to caving, lately, and Sirius knows if she does, he'll lose his best friend.
"Who are you going with?" James asks, nudging Sirius' arm.
"Where? Hogsmeade?" Sirius shrugs and picks at the duvet. "You, I guess. I was going to ask McKinnon if Evans said yes, but she didn't."
"Ask her anyway," James says, sliding down until he's lying on the bed. He folds his arms behind his head and his shirt rides up, exposing a thin strip of flat belly.
"Nah," Sirius replies. "Wormtail thinks she's going with Shacklebolt, anyway. 'Sides, I'd rather go with you."
"Well," James says slowly. "I'm going to ask Evans again tomorrow."
"Oh," Sirius says, the tightness in his chest returning. He twists a loose thread around his finger and pulls until it snaps. "I'll just stay here, then. The moon's the night before, so Moony'll need someone around."
"If you like," James replies. He sounds disappointed, almost hurt. "If you ask someone, and Evans says yes, we can go together. You know, the four of us."
Sirius brightens at this momentarily, but it fades quickly. Going to Hogsmeade with James while trying to entertain two birds is not the same as going with just James. It'll be holding hands at that horrid Puddifoot place instead of pranks and Zonkos and Butterbeers, and that's not what Sirius wants.
James with Evans is not what Sirius wants.
"Nah," Sirius says. "Go, if she says yes. I'll stay here with Moony. Hogsmeade is no fun with birds, anyway."
James starts to speak, but the words don't come out, turning into an exhaled breath just before leaving his mouth. There's a pause then, which is not entirely companionable, and this bothers Sirius more than Evans or Hogsmeade or anything else, because he can't remember a time -- even on the day they met -- when he and James couldn't find something to say.
"I really like her, Sirius," James says finally. It almost sounds apologetic, and that bothers Sirius, too.
"I know, Prongs. I know."
More silence. James sighs, and scratches his shin with his foot. He manages to kick Sirius before he settles, his foot brushing against Sirius' leg. Sirius shivers at that, at the rough slide of skin against skin, and his blood warms, racing through his veins.
"Just, I--"
"I know," Sirius says, because he does.
He knows what James wants and he knows what he wants, and he wishes that just for a moment, they were not two completely different things.
Evans will give in one of these days, maybe even tomorrow, and when she does, he'll lose James, lose his chance at what he wants.
Sirius rolls to his side and reaches out, brushing his fingers over the sliver of skin visible between James' shirt and shorts. James jerks a bit, his muscles twitching under Sirius' hand, and Sirius slides it up to his chest, running a finger over one of James' nipples.
"Sirius!"
Sirius shifts, sliding on top of James, their legs tangling together, and leans down until he and James are practically nose to nose.
"Sirius, stop it," James says, his hands flying up to Sirius' shoulders. "What are you doing?"
"Something I should have done a long time ago," Sirius replies. He tilts his head, and his lips brush the corner of James' mouth as he speaks. "Something I need to do before Evans gives in and takes you away."
His tongue darts out, tasting James' skin, and James gasps.
"I don't like blokes," James argues.
"Neither do I," Sirius says, and it's true. He doesn't like blokes; he just likes James.
Sirius doesn't understand why he likes James, why James makes him want, and he never has, that's just how it's always been. He presses closer, finding James hard against his hip in spite of his protests, and Sirius decides why is not important.
He slides his mouth over to James', kissing him, his tongue flicking over James' lips. James gasps, his fingers digging into Sirius' shoulders, but his mouth falls open, and when Sirius' tongue slides inside James' darts out to meet it.
James' hands leave Sirius shoulders to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, crushing their mouths together. James kisses like he does everything else, with everything he has, and it's absolutely brilliant, it's salt and sweat at James and stubble rasping rough against Sirius' jaw.
Sirius kisses down to James' neck, scraping his teeth over sweat-slick skin, and he rocks his hips, grinding their cocks together. James moans, a low sound that rumbles in his chest, and he arches off the bed, pressing closer.
"Sir--" James starts, cut off by Sirius rucking up his shirt and closing his mouth around a nipple. "What--"
He dissolves into moans, one hand still twisting in Sirius' hair, the other pulling desperately at the duvet. Sirius swirls is tongue around the nipple, flicking the tip over it again and again, and reaches down to shove at James' shorts, his hand fumbling over James' cock.
Sirius slides down James' body, stroking as best he can with his arm at such an awkward angle, nosing at the trail of hair leading away from James' navel. James' breathing hitches, quickens, and his body tenses, muscles shifting taut and tight under overheated skin.
James' cock feels strange and foreign in Sirius' mouth, and he doesn't have the first clue what he's doing, but the noise James makes is beautiful, desperate and raw. James arches off the bed, thrusting shallowly into Sirius' mouth, so Sirius sucks him harder, sliding his lips down the length and stroking the underside with his tongue.
And it doesn't matter that Sirius doesn't know what he's doing, because right now, James is here and James his. James is hot and hard in his mouth and James is trembling under his hands, James' fingers are scratching at his shoulders and James is trying, but failing, to whisper his name.
James comes in a rush of warmth and salt, his hips snapping up, his cock pushing just a bit too far down Sirius' throat. Sirius swallows it all, swallows James, licking and sucking until James' cock stops pulsing, until James is shaking and spent.
Sirius crawls back up James' body, the slide of James' leg against his cock making him shudder and gasp. James pulls him down and kisses him, licking at his mouth, and he worms a hand between the press of their bodies, tugging at Sirius' shorts.
James' hand is warm and sweaty and perfect, his fingers curled tightly, his thumb swirling over the head of Sirius' cock. He strokes Sirius hard and fast, his face hidden in Sirius' neck, and when Sirius comes he can still taste James on his tongue.
There's silence again, but this time it's companionable. Sirius rests his head on James' shoulder, and listens to the hammering of James' heart.
"Sirius," James says finally, his voice thin, reedy. "We--"
"I know, Prongs. I know."
"But."
"She'll give in," Sirius says, moving off James and pulling up his shorts. "One of these days. Maybe even tomorrow."