chiraldream (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lesyeuxverts) wrote2008-08-13 12:42 pm
lesyeuxverts) wrote2008-08-13 12:42 pm
Waiting (Remus/Sirius, PG-13)
Title: Waiting
Author: lesyeuxverts
Word Count: 200
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Prompt:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-community.gif)
nest_of_spiders prompt #2:
" Leaves of the summer, lovely summer's pride,
Sweet is the shade below your silent tree,"
- William Barnes, Leaves
Disclaimer: Not mine.
The swish-sway of the leaves rustling drowned out the other sounds of summer. Remus was stretched out in the shade, his face pressed into an open book. A fly landed on his nose and he shifted in his sleep, scrunching up his face.
Watching him, Sirius waited – waited for the summer heat to break, waited for Remus to wake, waited for the time to be right. When it was summer-sun and heat-haze and when Remus's face was flushed and a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead and his eyes were wide open – when it was perfect, Sirius would lean over and kiss him.
The rush of the river in the distance, the crick-crick of the grasshoppers, the soft sigh of Remus's breathing as he slept – it was all drowned out by the rustling leaves, but Sirius knew that the sounds were there, underneath the others. Only hidden, still there.
He had betrayed Remus and he had won him back again, had brought him to this place and this tree and this soft, sweet trust – Remus sleeping next to Sirius again, as he'd always done.
Sirius knew that the time would come, the kiss would happen. It would be perfect.
Author: lesyeuxverts
Word Count: 200
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Prompt:
nest_of_spiders prompt #2:" Leaves of the summer, lovely summer's pride,
Sweet is the shade below your silent tree,"
- William Barnes, Leaves
Disclaimer: Not mine.
The swish-sway of the leaves rustling drowned out the other sounds of summer. Remus was stretched out in the shade, his face pressed into an open book. A fly landed on his nose and he shifted in his sleep, scrunching up his face.
Watching him, Sirius waited – waited for the summer heat to break, waited for Remus to wake, waited for the time to be right. When it was summer-sun and heat-haze and when Remus's face was flushed and a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead and his eyes were wide open – when it was perfect, Sirius would lean over and kiss him.
The rush of the river in the distance, the crick-crick of the grasshoppers, the soft sigh of Remus's breathing as he slept – it was all drowned out by the rustling leaves, but Sirius knew that the sounds were there, underneath the others. Only hidden, still there.
He had betrayed Remus and he had won him back again, had brought him to this place and this tree and this soft, sweet trust – Remus sleeping next to Sirius again, as he'd always done.
Sirius knew that the time would come, the kiss would happen. It would be perfect.