"Mistletoeless Rooms", Sirius/Harry, R
Dec. 24th, 2012 05:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
traintracksTitle: Mistletoeless Rooms
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
traintracks
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius/Harry
Rating: PG-13/soft R
Word Count: 500
Warnings: chan (15), or AU set ahead (take your pick); godfather/godson
Disclaimer: I don't own much of anything, least of all anything having to do with Harry Potter.
A/N: This is for adventdrabbles and prompt #24: mistletoe.
It was late when Sirius said goodnight to Harry in the study at Grimmauld Place. Christmas would be over in precisely six minutes, and nearly everyone else had already gone to bed or left for home or wherever, and the only one besides them there in the dimly-lit room was Tonks who'd be kipping on the sofa for the night before she left for the Minstry in the morning.
So it was with her yawning behind Sirius and punching her pillow that he told Harry, "I'm headed to bed. Sleep tight."
And it was with Tonks there in the room with them that Harry glanced up from where he leaned casually against the wall, and Sirius saw the mistletoe hanging there. He swallowed. He looked back at Harry who looked unduly expectant.
Sirius looked back at Tonks, now running through some interesting yoga stretches in her purple pajamas. He looked back at Harry and exhaled, frowning. Harry raised his eyebrows, clearing waiting. So Sirius leaned down and quickly pecked him on the cheek. "Goodnight," he said brusquely, and then Apparated to his room.
He readied for bed, stripping off vest and shirt and trousers, exchanging boxers for loose pajama bottoms. Sirius turned down the bed. And then he just stood there.
He turned and stared at his own closed door.
"Son of a bitch," he sighed.
Then he stalked out of the room and down the hall to Harry's room at the end. He was about to raise his fist to knock, to ruin everything, when Harry simply opened the door as though Sirius had been expected.
"Yes?" Harry said, eyebrows raised once more. Sirius' eyes dropped of their own accord. Harry was only in pajama bottoms as well. Low-slung, pale pajama bottoms. Sirius gulped, and the next thing he knew, he found himself looking up, maybe hoping for a repeat mistletoe above the door. But there wasn't one.
"Do we really need that?" Harry asked then.
Sirius blinked and searched his sparkling eyes. "Well, at least then I'd have a reasonably pathetic excuse," Sirius allowed. And it felt like opening floodgates.
Harry smiled, and then before Sirius could act – to pounce or run away one or the other – Harry jumped him, wrapping his hand around the back of Sirius' head and prying Sirius' lips open with his own. Harry's tongue darted into his shocked mouth, but then once there, it slowed; it stroked; and Harry whined high in his throat, pressed so tightly to Sirius' body there wasn't even air.
Sirius pulled back. Though his arm had, unbeknownst to him, wrapped around Harry's back – and it stayed there. "We shouldn't."
"I know."
"We really shouldn't."
"I know."
"Well, as long as you know that," Sirius said with a little shrug. Then he hauled Harry tight against himself, the boy's feet off the bloody floor, and he kissed Harry hard and long and wet, walking him back into his misteltoeless bedroom. Then he joyfully kicked the door closed behind them.
Author:
traintracksFandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius/Harry
Rating: PG-13/soft R
Word Count: 500
Warnings: chan (15), or AU set ahead (take your pick); godfather/godson
Disclaimer: I don't own much of anything, least of all anything having to do with Harry Potter.
A/N: This is for adventdrabbles and prompt #24: mistletoe.
It was late when Sirius said goodnight to Harry in the study at Grimmauld Place. Christmas would be over in precisely six minutes, and nearly everyone else had already gone to bed or left for home or wherever, and the only one besides them there in the dimly-lit room was Tonks who'd be kipping on the sofa for the night before she left for the Minstry in the morning.
So it was with her yawning behind Sirius and punching her pillow that he told Harry, "I'm headed to bed. Sleep tight."
And it was with Tonks there in the room with them that Harry glanced up from where he leaned casually against the wall, and Sirius saw the mistletoe hanging there. He swallowed. He looked back at Harry who looked unduly expectant.
Sirius looked back at Tonks, now running through some interesting yoga stretches in her purple pajamas. He looked back at Harry and exhaled, frowning. Harry raised his eyebrows, clearing waiting. So Sirius leaned down and quickly pecked him on the cheek. "Goodnight," he said brusquely, and then Apparated to his room.
He readied for bed, stripping off vest and shirt and trousers, exchanging boxers for loose pajama bottoms. Sirius turned down the bed. And then he just stood there.
He turned and stared at his own closed door.
"Son of a bitch," he sighed.
Then he stalked out of the room and down the hall to Harry's room at the end. He was about to raise his fist to knock, to ruin everything, when Harry simply opened the door as though Sirius had been expected.
"Yes?" Harry said, eyebrows raised once more. Sirius' eyes dropped of their own accord. Harry was only in pajama bottoms as well. Low-slung, pale pajama bottoms. Sirius gulped, and the next thing he knew, he found himself looking up, maybe hoping for a repeat mistletoe above the door. But there wasn't one.
"Do we really need that?" Harry asked then.
Sirius blinked and searched his sparkling eyes. "Well, at least then I'd have a reasonably pathetic excuse," Sirius allowed. And it felt like opening floodgates.
Harry smiled, and then before Sirius could act – to pounce or run away one or the other – Harry jumped him, wrapping his hand around the back of Sirius' head and prying Sirius' lips open with his own. Harry's tongue darted into his shocked mouth, but then once there, it slowed; it stroked; and Harry whined high in his throat, pressed so tightly to Sirius' body there wasn't even air.
Sirius pulled back. Though his arm had, unbeknownst to him, wrapped around Harry's back – and it stayed there. "We shouldn't."
"I know."
"We really shouldn't."
"I know."
"Well, as long as you know that," Sirius said with a little shrug. Then he hauled Harry tight against himself, the boy's feet off the bloody floor, and he kissed Harry hard and long and wet, walking him back into his misteltoeless bedroom. Then he joyfully kicked the door closed behind them.
