Ficlet: The Safe Option
Mar. 4th, 2006 11:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinitydayOkay, I need to get myself a copy of Word, and soon, because I spent ten minutes trying to format this stupid thing.
Title: The Safe Option
Word Count: 1285
Beta: Lyllianne (Thanks a million, again!)
Warnings: Tense change. Rambling. A preteen's penchant for italics.
Author's Notes: It's a bit of a different style than I usual go for, but at least it's happy and not full of wangst for once. It was originally started as one of the Sirius/James Fest challenge responses, but *cough* the deadline came and past for that months and months ago. Still, thought people might enjoy it.
It started with a bottle of Firewhiskey.
Actually, it started even before the Firewhiskey, when James and Sirius stumbled--literally, Sirius tripping over a loose stone and narrowly avoiding bashing his head against a stone wall only by the grace of a trapdoor--onto a new secret room whose existence neither boy had ever dreamed of.
"Merlin," James breathed after they went through the rigmarole of making sure that Sirius was okay--yes, he was perfectly fine so stop fussing over him like he was a little lost puppy! Only the reason he wasn't more upset about James' fussing was because he was secretly touched that he had someone who cared about him that deeply but shouldn't we be lighting our wands about now so we can actually see and not just fumble about in the dark, thank you very much Sirius for your sarcastic comments?
"I prefer 'Sirius'," came the tired reply to James' exclamation. James ignored it as par for the course.
"Can you believe this stuff?" James asked, almost dropping his wand in his enthusiasm. He started to pick up and examine each and every wonderment, properly ohhing and ahhing over each item for at least thirty seconds before tossing it aside and moving onto the next treasure. That is, until he reached--
"…A magic carpet? These things have been outlawed for years."
Sirius whistled, but not at James. He had found his own prize. "Look at this! A bottle of Benbecula, 28 years old. This stuff is good. My parents had a couple of bottles in their cellar. We stole one, one night. Got in so much trouble, but it was worth it. Merlin, was it worth it." He shook his head slowly, remembering.
"It's just a drink, Padfoot," James said because he had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going to end up. They had a test in the morning. He had to patrol the halls with Lily. They couldn't spend the night drunk on some wild goose chase of Sirius'.
"Just a drink!" Sirius exclaimed, mortally offended. "If you weren't my best mate, I wouldn't let you have any of this. Be glad I'm so forgiving."
"Padfoot," James said. He tried to sound stern but ended up whining. It was a failing of his, which meant that no one past third year ever took his scoldings seriously.
Sirius cracked open the seal. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Sirius asked, cradling the bottle in his hand as if it were his newborn son while giving James, who was still holding the magic carpet, a decidedly dangerous look.
"Me, having an insight into the mind of Sirius Black? What a scary thought." Which was all just to hide the fact that James had a good idea what Sirius was thinking, but dared not say anything aloud on the slim chance that he was wrong. Otherwise he would just incite Sirius into doing something even worse than what Sirius was already going to drag James into.
"One word for you, Prongs: London."
The smile on Sirius' face was one that James loved and feared. It was so utterly and fundamentally Sirius, but it also usually signalled some crazy plan from which they'd barely escape with their lives and souls intact--and even then only if fortune were with them.
It was a smile that drove James mad.
"That's illegal, Padfoot. If we fly this thing to London, we're bound to be spotted. The Ministry will be dragged in; we won't just be dealing with Hogwarts and Dumbledore. We can get into so much trouble for this," James pleaded, trying out his voice of reason. Lily said that he did possess it, somewhere deep down, hidden so thoroughly that it was hard to believe it was actually there. But now that he was Head Boy, could he please try to find it, if only every once in awhile? Please?
"Since when were you such a girl?" Sirius asked with a small amount of disgust.
James bit back his initial response, knowing that Sirius was trying to goad him. Knowing that he would give in to Sirius' demands eventually but wouldn't it be nice if he could assert some resolve for once? "Padfoot, do you ever think about what you say? Do you ever consider the consequences of your actions?"
"Consequences, shmauncequences," Sirius interrupted, waving a hand dismissively.
"Don't you ever want to take the safe option?"
"If I were going to take the 'safe option', I'd still be at home. Right now I'm sure my parents would be going through a list of suitably marriageable girls, trying to convince me that if we'd survived centuries of inbreeding, one more generation couldn't hurt. I'd be a Slytherin, a Muggle-hater, a Voldemort-supporter." Sirius' eyes grew even darker, if that were possible. James found he couldn't look away. "So no, James, I'm not going live safe."
That decided it.
James would later blame that night on the Firewhiskey, but the truth was much murkier than that. It would be better to blame it on Sirius' smile, on Sirius' voice, on Sirius himself. Padfoot was a hundred times more intoxicating than any liquor could ever be. But for the moment, he is not thinking of any of this.
He decides early on that he is not going to worry about any consequences that night. It is frankly the only way to keep his sanity.
"This is how you live!" Sirius shouts and if James were worrying anymore, he'd be thinking that they are more likely to get caught because Sirius is laughing madly, loudly. He is calling out for anyone's attention.
But James isn't keeping track anymore. He's yelling and laughing and calling out just as loudly as Sirius is.
"This beats a broomstick, any day," Sirius swears, leaning back into the carpet, back into James, his eyes closed and his hands resting behind his head, which is now in James' lap.
"Blasphemy!" James cries, pushing Sirius off him. Sirius looks like he'll lose his balance for a minute, but at the last instant he stays on the carpet. "Take that back, or I'll make you take it back."
But Sirius has moved on and is now laughing at James. "Blasphemy!" he replies. "You're not drunk enough if you can say 'blasphemy!'"
"You're right," James agrees, stealing the bottle from Sirius' hands and tossing it back. He chokes a little, not because of the burn, because that would be embarrassing, but because he tried to swallow too much at once.
"Hey!" Sirius protests, twisting body so that he's now facing James. "I wasn't finished with that."
But he doesn't use his hands to take the bottle back, he puts his mouth to the bottle's mouth--to James' mouth--and James tastes Sirius, because Sirius is stronger and more distinct than even the hardest of liquors could be.
James freezes, but Sirius just laughs again.
"I'm not going to live the safe option," he whispers throatily.
James tries to swallow so that he can speak, but then realizes that he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to think.
Sirius is staring at him with his intense eyes, and despite his earlier words, James can see a glimpse of fear fighting its way to the surface. It looks wrong. It is wrong. James can't stand it.
It is that look, the fear and not the Firewhiskey, that causes James to lean forward. He kisses Sirius, tasting the last of the whiskey on his lips.
They have to break apart when the carpet almost flies into a house. James is stunned and Sirius is laughing, but that's okay. Everything's okay.
Title: The Safe Option
Word Count: 1285
Beta: Lyllianne (Thanks a million, again!)
Warnings: Tense change. Rambling. A preteen's penchant for italics.
Author's Notes: It's a bit of a different style than I usual go for, but at least it's happy and not full of wangst for once. It was originally started as one of the Sirius/James Fest challenge responses, but *cough* the deadline came and past for that months and months ago. Still, thought people might enjoy it.
It started with a bottle of Firewhiskey.
Actually, it started even before the Firewhiskey, when James and Sirius stumbled--literally, Sirius tripping over a loose stone and narrowly avoiding bashing his head against a stone wall only by the grace of a trapdoor--onto a new secret room whose existence neither boy had ever dreamed of.
"Merlin," James breathed after they went through the rigmarole of making sure that Sirius was okay--yes, he was perfectly fine so stop fussing over him like he was a little lost puppy! Only the reason he wasn't more upset about James' fussing was because he was secretly touched that he had someone who cared about him that deeply but shouldn't we be lighting our wands about now so we can actually see and not just fumble about in the dark, thank you very much Sirius for your sarcastic comments?
"I prefer 'Sirius'," came the tired reply to James' exclamation. James ignored it as par for the course.
"Can you believe this stuff?" James asked, almost dropping his wand in his enthusiasm. He started to pick up and examine each and every wonderment, properly ohhing and ahhing over each item for at least thirty seconds before tossing it aside and moving onto the next treasure. That is, until he reached--
"…A magic carpet? These things have been outlawed for years."
Sirius whistled, but not at James. He had found his own prize. "Look at this! A bottle of Benbecula, 28 years old. This stuff is good. My parents had a couple of bottles in their cellar. We stole one, one night. Got in so much trouble, but it was worth it. Merlin, was it worth it." He shook his head slowly, remembering.
"It's just a drink, Padfoot," James said because he had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going to end up. They had a test in the morning. He had to patrol the halls with Lily. They couldn't spend the night drunk on some wild goose chase of Sirius'.
"Just a drink!" Sirius exclaimed, mortally offended. "If you weren't my best mate, I wouldn't let you have any of this. Be glad I'm so forgiving."
"Padfoot," James said. He tried to sound stern but ended up whining. It was a failing of his, which meant that no one past third year ever took his scoldings seriously.
Sirius cracked open the seal. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Sirius asked, cradling the bottle in his hand as if it were his newborn son while giving James, who was still holding the magic carpet, a decidedly dangerous look.
"Me, having an insight into the mind of Sirius Black? What a scary thought." Which was all just to hide the fact that James had a good idea what Sirius was thinking, but dared not say anything aloud on the slim chance that he was wrong. Otherwise he would just incite Sirius into doing something even worse than what Sirius was already going to drag James into.
"One word for you, Prongs: London."
The smile on Sirius' face was one that James loved and feared. It was so utterly and fundamentally Sirius, but it also usually signalled some crazy plan from which they'd barely escape with their lives and souls intact--and even then only if fortune were with them.
It was a smile that drove James mad.
"That's illegal, Padfoot. If we fly this thing to London, we're bound to be spotted. The Ministry will be dragged in; we won't just be dealing with Hogwarts and Dumbledore. We can get into so much trouble for this," James pleaded, trying out his voice of reason. Lily said that he did possess it, somewhere deep down, hidden so thoroughly that it was hard to believe it was actually there. But now that he was Head Boy, could he please try to find it, if only every once in awhile? Please?
"Since when were you such a girl?" Sirius asked with a small amount of disgust.
James bit back his initial response, knowing that Sirius was trying to goad him. Knowing that he would give in to Sirius' demands eventually but wouldn't it be nice if he could assert some resolve for once? "Padfoot, do you ever think about what you say? Do you ever consider the consequences of your actions?"
"Consequences, shmauncequences," Sirius interrupted, waving a hand dismissively.
"Don't you ever want to take the safe option?"
"If I were going to take the 'safe option', I'd still be at home. Right now I'm sure my parents would be going through a list of suitably marriageable girls, trying to convince me that if we'd survived centuries of inbreeding, one more generation couldn't hurt. I'd be a Slytherin, a Muggle-hater, a Voldemort-supporter." Sirius' eyes grew even darker, if that were possible. James found he couldn't look away. "So no, James, I'm not going live safe."
That decided it.
James would later blame that night on the Firewhiskey, but the truth was much murkier than that. It would be better to blame it on Sirius' smile, on Sirius' voice, on Sirius himself. Padfoot was a hundred times more intoxicating than any liquor could ever be. But for the moment, he is not thinking of any of this.
He decides early on that he is not going to worry about any consequences that night. It is frankly the only way to keep his sanity.
"This is how you live!" Sirius shouts and if James were worrying anymore, he'd be thinking that they are more likely to get caught because Sirius is laughing madly, loudly. He is calling out for anyone's attention.
But James isn't keeping track anymore. He's yelling and laughing and calling out just as loudly as Sirius is.
"This beats a broomstick, any day," Sirius swears, leaning back into the carpet, back into James, his eyes closed and his hands resting behind his head, which is now in James' lap.
"Blasphemy!" James cries, pushing Sirius off him. Sirius looks like he'll lose his balance for a minute, but at the last instant he stays on the carpet. "Take that back, or I'll make you take it back."
But Sirius has moved on and is now laughing at James. "Blasphemy!" he replies. "You're not drunk enough if you can say 'blasphemy!'"
"You're right," James agrees, stealing the bottle from Sirius' hands and tossing it back. He chokes a little, not because of the burn, because that would be embarrassing, but because he tried to swallow too much at once.
"Hey!" Sirius protests, twisting body so that he's now facing James. "I wasn't finished with that."
But he doesn't use his hands to take the bottle back, he puts his mouth to the bottle's mouth--to James' mouth--and James tastes Sirius, because Sirius is stronger and more distinct than even the hardest of liquors could be.
James freezes, but Sirius just laughs again.
"I'm not going to live the safe option," he whispers throatily.
James tries to swallow so that he can speak, but then realizes that he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to think.
Sirius is staring at him with his intense eyes, and despite his earlier words, James can see a glimpse of fear fighting its way to the surface. It looks wrong. It is wrong. James can't stand it.
It is that look, the fear and not the Firewhiskey, that causes James to lean forward. He kisses Sirius, tasting the last of the whiskey on his lips.
They have to break apart when the carpet almost flies into a house. James is stunned and Sirius is laughing, but that's okay. Everything's okay.