It was getter harder every day. Remus would hate Sirius for how devilishly attractive and charming he was, if it weren't for the fact that was why he was so apparently infatuated with him. And so he tolerated Sirius's overwhelmingly good looks, and his ridiculous sense of humor, and his penchant for getting into trouble, because that's what friends did. And if he wanked a bit later in the shower while everyone was down at dinner, well no one had to know about that.
But Sirius — dear, thoughtful, terribly oblivious Sirius — apparently could not take a hint. Remus supposed he never really needed to before, because hints were below him and hey, there wasn't a girl in the school who didn't want to blow him. But he also hadn't thought that Sirius could be so dense, for lack of a better word. Remus would sit across the table from him while they did their homework, and Sirius would brush their knees together. Remus would duck his head when they changed clothing, and Sirius would fling himself clad only in boxers across Remus's bed to steal a book from his nightstand. Remus would sit in an armchair to read a book by himself, and Sirius would perch on the arm of the chair, leaning over Remus to see what he was doing.
Every time Remus tried to keep away, Sirius found him, the perfect dog, metaphorically tracking him to the ends of the earth and back (though it was only to the ends of the castle, really, and they'd had that place memorized since about fifth year, so it wasn't a very big surprise). It was like a curse, a lovely, exciting, heart-fluttering curse that made Remus feel really, really masochistic.
And so it went on. James didn't notice, because James was deep in the process of wooing Lily, for once not failing miserably as he was apt to do. Peter didn't notice, because Peter didn't notice a lot of things, especially if it didn't pertain to James or Sirius. And of course Sirius didn't notice, because if Sirius noticed they wouldn't be having this problem in the first place. Remus debated telling him once, as Sirius danced about with joy after Remus had found his wand (how Sirius had managed to lose his wand in the first place, Remus really didn't want to know), but then Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders and planted a big wet kiss on his forehead in thanks, and Remus immediately clamped his mouth shut. Remus, if anything, was very keen on trying to keep things as least awkward as possible.
But it got harder to keep things normal, oh did it ever. It felt like Sirius unintentionally thwarted his plans at every move. The other boy was practically glued to his hip these days, and Remus was running out of kind ways to get rid of him. He could only do so much homework (which normally was guaranteed to shoo Sirius away) before people started getting suspicious. Thus he took to disappearing without warning, doing his work inside empty classrooms or out on the grounds if the weather was nice enough. It was in such a place that Sirius found him one day, absentmindedly scribbling circles on the corner of his parchment while daydreaming about sucking Sirius off in a bathroom stall.
Remus/Sirius - The Art of Persistence {1/2}
But Sirius — dear, thoughtful, terribly oblivious Sirius — apparently could not take a hint. Remus supposed he never really needed to before, because hints were below him and hey, there wasn't a girl in the school who didn't want to blow him. But he also hadn't thought that Sirius could be so dense, for lack of a better word. Remus would sit across the table from him while they did their homework, and Sirius would brush their knees together. Remus would duck his head when they changed clothing, and Sirius would fling himself clad only in boxers across Remus's bed to steal a book from his nightstand. Remus would sit in an armchair to read a book by himself, and Sirius would perch on the arm of the chair, leaning over Remus to see what he was doing.
Every time Remus tried to keep away, Sirius found him, the perfect dog, metaphorically tracking him to the ends of the earth and back (though it was only to the ends of the castle, really, and they'd had that place memorized since about fifth year, so it wasn't a very big surprise). It was like a curse, a lovely, exciting, heart-fluttering curse that made Remus feel really, really masochistic.
And so it went on. James didn't notice, because James was deep in the process of wooing Lily, for once not failing miserably as he was apt to do. Peter didn't notice, because Peter didn't notice a lot of things, especially if it didn't pertain to James or Sirius. And of course Sirius didn't notice, because if Sirius noticed they wouldn't be having this problem in the first place. Remus debated telling him once, as Sirius danced about with joy after Remus had found his wand (how Sirius had managed to lose his wand in the first place, Remus really didn't want to know), but then Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders and planted a big wet kiss on his forehead in thanks, and Remus immediately clamped his mouth shut. Remus, if anything, was very keen on trying to keep things as least awkward as possible.
But it got harder to keep things normal, oh did it ever. It felt like Sirius unintentionally thwarted his plans at every move. The other boy was practically glued to his hip these days, and Remus was running out of kind ways to get rid of him. He could only do so much homework (which normally was guaranteed to shoo Sirius away) before people started getting suspicious. Thus he took to disappearing without warning, doing his work inside empty classrooms or out on the grounds if the weather was nice enough. It was in such a place that Sirius found him one day, absentmindedly scribbling circles on the corner of his parchment while daydreaming about sucking Sirius off in a bathroom stall.