yiling matriarch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
marginalia) wrote2004-03-23 03:30 am
marginalia) wrote2004-03-23 03:30 am
Entry tags:
fic: spinning out. remus/sirius, mr au.
[spinning out] - remus/sirius. au
remus pov on the patience arc (aka jaci's personal remix project) continues. my first part is [bright you are]. this installment parallels [if you think you might be, you are]. any dialogue is as it appears in the original. unbetaed, so yell and stuff. i fear a verb tense issue.
The street lamp flickered and died as the sun slowly made its appearance. Remus drifted in and out of sleep, watched the red digits jump ahead twenty at a time. Finally, as though by some unspoken agreement with the morning, he sat up, ran his fingers through his hair, slipped into his jeans and shoes, and stepped towards the door.
Remus always awoke first, always went for breakfast. After less than a week on tour he had quickly learned to take advantage of anything that would get him away, however briefly, from the mass of breathing, demanding flesh that was Marauder Rhombus. Too many voices, too many needs. He clung to early mornings and time with only his own thoughts. Lately, though, even those were making his brain a far too crowded place.
He paused at the door, fingertips brushing the handle, and glanced back through the shadows of the room to the sleeping forms. Sirius, lashes dark against his cheeks, his arms curled tight around his pillow as if it were a person. Remus turned the door handle and immediately regretted it. The screech cut through the room, and his eyes darted from Marauder to Marauder, hoping against hope that none had been disturbed.
Sirius peered up at him, still clutching the pillow, though slightly more defensively than he had in sleep, and Remus berated himself, wondering how he could have forgotten about the door handle after Sirius's late night trek to the ice machine. "Sorry," he said. "Forgot it made that noise... go back to sleep, I'm going to get us some breakfast."
When Sirius offered to join him, Remus just nodded and slipped into the hall, where he leaned against the wall to wait. Sirius appeared quickly, and cut him off as he reached for the door handle, closing it silently. So the late night trips out had definitely been all about annoyance. Good to know. "We didn't want my parents to, um, hear us, y'know?" Sirius explained, and in between his words lay a girl in smeared eyeliner who chewed on the ends of her braids. It seemed like every story Sirius told started with, "So, there was this girl." Most of the time Remus even thought they were real.
This morning, Remus didn't want to know. He skimmed across the statement. "It's a good trick," he said, automatic conversation. "I'll remember it." They wandered out of the motel, so much quieter in the daylight. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, the sun attempting to burn away the early morning fog in his brain, he remembered that Sirius didn't know where they were going. "Diner . .down the street," offhand as if he didn't scope for cheap food near every motel in every town. Sirius just nodded, oddly quiet. Usually he filled in the spaces with sound whether Remus wanted him to or not, and now, well, everything was too quiet.
Remus patted at his jacket, looking for a pack of cigarettes, just to have something to do. He realized too late that the crumpled pack was back in the room, and it would be pilfered by James before they returned unless his luck decided to change and catch him unaware. He found a lighter in one pocket, and flipped it over and over against the seams. Mindless. With his luck he'd accidentally light the damn thing in his pocket, and wouldn't that be a fine way to start the morning, as a burnt offering. The sacrificial bass player. James would make an inappropriate joke about flaming and Peter would giggle and Sirius.
Sirius was a star, so he knew all about fire already. But he wasn't a star, not really, he was just a guy with mussed-up hair and shoelaces slapping the ground, and he probably wouldn't appreciate twenty-five percent of the band going up in flames next to him, though it might get his attention and make him actually talk.
Maybe if Sirius talked then Remus's brain would slow the fuck down. The speed through the mist made him dizzy.
Grindy's Diner looked like every other greasy spoon that Remus wandered into in every other town, slipping in after the early morning blue collar rush, with a few regulars still lingering over their coffee. Remus sat, still foggy-brained, at the end of the counter, the faint strands of a headache winding their way through the clouds. Sirius spun on the stool next to him, and Remus closed his eyes briefly, then stuck out his foot to stop the revolution as the waitress approached.
He placed the usual order like a mantra, only breaking the rhythm to glance at Sirius, who was staring at the cherry pie as if it were holding a sign with his name on it, and possibly a death threat. "And a slice of cherry pie, and that's it."
He watched Sirius fiddle with the salt and pepper, and awkwardly prodded the conversation forward. He asked "Did you sleep all right?", and it felt dangerous and yet somehow right. Bringing the dreamy night into the world of sunshine and Formica would pop the soap bubble of fantasy and scrub his brain of silly notions and sentimental songs.
They danced around the night, and Remus reached for his wallet, shifting away from Sirius's eyes. "You can't pay for all of this," Sirius protested, and dug for cash, revealing phone numbers of girls with names like Tricia, a little bit of cash, and no cigarettes. Remus joked and turned away, toying with the lighter again, something, anything else to think about. Anything other than girls and stars and cold motel beds. The waitress brought the coffee, and he sorted it, then warmed his hands around the cup. Sirius asked where the next town was, and Remus for once wasn't sure. Sirius nodded and looked away as he said, "It's cool of you to do this, get up and get us food, I mean. I took it for granted, Danishes just appearing."
Remus watched his profile carefully, smiled in spite of himself, and made a joke of it. "Besides," he continued, "Gives me something to do with the morning . . . I've never been able to sleep late. And thanks for noticing. It's nice." He thanked his voice very kindly for not wavering, and he twisted on the stool and bumped Sirius's knee.
It was a strange combination of elementary school awkwardness and affection, and the moment twisted heavy between them. They both turned back to their coffee, and Remus toyed with the lighter again, lost in stolen glances and wondering how to bridge the distance.
His brain apparently coming to a decision without any input from him, Remus abruptly turned, "Listen," but before he could finish the thought the waitress was setting their food and the check in front of them. "Thanks for getting us everything so fast," he said, automatic pleasantries while sorting out the bill.
He picked up the bags and headed for the door, Sirius falling behind to snitch free mints and matchbooks from the register. Like a magpie. In a moment of sunshine-induced madness, Remus reached back, hooked his fingers in the sleeve of Sirius's jacket, and pulled him forward.
Laden with food and coffee and indefinable moments, they braved the warm morning together.
remus pov on the patience arc (aka jaci's personal remix project) continues. my first part is [bright you are]. this installment parallels [if you think you might be, you are]. any dialogue is as it appears in the original. unbetaed, so yell and stuff. i fear a verb tense issue.
The street lamp flickered and died as the sun slowly made its appearance. Remus drifted in and out of sleep, watched the red digits jump ahead twenty at a time. Finally, as though by some unspoken agreement with the morning, he sat up, ran his fingers through his hair, slipped into his jeans and shoes, and stepped towards the door.
Remus always awoke first, always went for breakfast. After less than a week on tour he had quickly learned to take advantage of anything that would get him away, however briefly, from the mass of breathing, demanding flesh that was Marauder Rhombus. Too many voices, too many needs. He clung to early mornings and time with only his own thoughts. Lately, though, even those were making his brain a far too crowded place.
He paused at the door, fingertips brushing the handle, and glanced back through the shadows of the room to the sleeping forms. Sirius, lashes dark against his cheeks, his arms curled tight around his pillow as if it were a person. Remus turned the door handle and immediately regretted it. The screech cut through the room, and his eyes darted from Marauder to Marauder, hoping against hope that none had been disturbed.
Sirius peered up at him, still clutching the pillow, though slightly more defensively than he had in sleep, and Remus berated himself, wondering how he could have forgotten about the door handle after Sirius's late night trek to the ice machine. "Sorry," he said. "Forgot it made that noise... go back to sleep, I'm going to get us some breakfast."
When Sirius offered to join him, Remus just nodded and slipped into the hall, where he leaned against the wall to wait. Sirius appeared quickly, and cut him off as he reached for the door handle, closing it silently. So the late night trips out had definitely been all about annoyance. Good to know. "We didn't want my parents to, um, hear us, y'know?" Sirius explained, and in between his words lay a girl in smeared eyeliner who chewed on the ends of her braids. It seemed like every story Sirius told started with, "So, there was this girl." Most of the time Remus even thought they were real.
This morning, Remus didn't want to know. He skimmed across the statement. "It's a good trick," he said, automatic conversation. "I'll remember it." They wandered out of the motel, so much quieter in the daylight. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, the sun attempting to burn away the early morning fog in his brain, he remembered that Sirius didn't know where they were going. "Diner . .down the street," offhand as if he didn't scope for cheap food near every motel in every town. Sirius just nodded, oddly quiet. Usually he filled in the spaces with sound whether Remus wanted him to or not, and now, well, everything was too quiet.
Remus patted at his jacket, looking for a pack of cigarettes, just to have something to do. He realized too late that the crumpled pack was back in the room, and it would be pilfered by James before they returned unless his luck decided to change and catch him unaware. He found a lighter in one pocket, and flipped it over and over against the seams. Mindless. With his luck he'd accidentally light the damn thing in his pocket, and wouldn't that be a fine way to start the morning, as a burnt offering. The sacrificial bass player. James would make an inappropriate joke about flaming and Peter would giggle and Sirius.
Sirius was a star, so he knew all about fire already. But he wasn't a star, not really, he was just a guy with mussed-up hair and shoelaces slapping the ground, and he probably wouldn't appreciate twenty-five percent of the band going up in flames next to him, though it might get his attention and make him actually talk.
Maybe if Sirius talked then Remus's brain would slow the fuck down. The speed through the mist made him dizzy.
Grindy's Diner looked like every other greasy spoon that Remus wandered into in every other town, slipping in after the early morning blue collar rush, with a few regulars still lingering over their coffee. Remus sat, still foggy-brained, at the end of the counter, the faint strands of a headache winding their way through the clouds. Sirius spun on the stool next to him, and Remus closed his eyes briefly, then stuck out his foot to stop the revolution as the waitress approached.
He placed the usual order like a mantra, only breaking the rhythm to glance at Sirius, who was staring at the cherry pie as if it were holding a sign with his name on it, and possibly a death threat. "And a slice of cherry pie, and that's it."
He watched Sirius fiddle with the salt and pepper, and awkwardly prodded the conversation forward. He asked "Did you sleep all right?", and it felt dangerous and yet somehow right. Bringing the dreamy night into the world of sunshine and Formica would pop the soap bubble of fantasy and scrub his brain of silly notions and sentimental songs.
They danced around the night, and Remus reached for his wallet, shifting away from Sirius's eyes. "You can't pay for all of this," Sirius protested, and dug for cash, revealing phone numbers of girls with names like Tricia, a little bit of cash, and no cigarettes. Remus joked and turned away, toying with the lighter again, something, anything else to think about. Anything other than girls and stars and cold motel beds. The waitress brought the coffee, and he sorted it, then warmed his hands around the cup. Sirius asked where the next town was, and Remus for once wasn't sure. Sirius nodded and looked away as he said, "It's cool of you to do this, get up and get us food, I mean. I took it for granted, Danishes just appearing."
Remus watched his profile carefully, smiled in spite of himself, and made a joke of it. "Besides," he continued, "Gives me something to do with the morning . . . I've never been able to sleep late. And thanks for noticing. It's nice." He thanked his voice very kindly for not wavering, and he twisted on the stool and bumped Sirius's knee.
It was a strange combination of elementary school awkwardness and affection, and the moment twisted heavy between them. They both turned back to their coffee, and Remus toyed with the lighter again, lost in stolen glances and wondering how to bridge the distance.
His brain apparently coming to a decision without any input from him, Remus abruptly turned, "Listen," but before he could finish the thought the waitress was setting their food and the check in front of them. "Thanks for getting us everything so fast," he said, automatic pleasantries while sorting out the bill.
He picked up the bags and headed for the door, Sirius falling behind to snitch free mints and matchbooks from the register. Like a magpie. In a moment of sunshine-induced madness, Remus reached back, hooked his fingers in the sleeve of Sirius's jacket, and pulled him forward.
Laden with food and coffee and indefinable moments, they braved the warm morning together.
no subject
no subject
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Re: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
no subject
I love you.
I can't seem to come up with much more at the moment. *sigh*
In a moment of sunshine-induced madness, Remus reached back, hooked his fingers in the sleeve of Sirius's jacket, and pulled him forward.
GAH.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
just to start with, as though by some unspoken agreement with the morning is just such a beautiful phrase, and to me, somehow just works with the continuingly awesome way you have to express Remus's solitary-ness and detatchment, that he feels like he has an agreement with a time of day, with this sort of moment of silence.
in between his words lay a girl in smeared eyeliner who chewed on the ends of her braids is also an amazing phrase, and the fact that all of Sirius's stories start with "so there was this girl" is just like, MR in a nutshell, sort of. the way you've worked around my badly-written dialogue is fabulous. the story really just works better with most of it cut out, i think.
Remus fidgeting in his pocket with the lighter as he walks is great. mostly i think so because Jamie gave me a lighter and i keep it in my coat pocket and fidget with it constantly. and i really like the fact that Remus thinks about being the "sacrificial bass player," because Sirius is thinking about sacrificial pie, so it's sort of like they're on this similar wavelength without knowing it.
um, the way you've used like, items listed in succession (Bringing the dreamy night into the world of sunshine and Formica would pop the soap bubble of fantasy and scrub his brain of silly notions and sentimental songs. and Anything other than girls and stars and cold motel beds.) has such a wonderful rhythm to it, it make me want to tap my foot while i'm reading it---very appropriate for a band-fic, i think.
and i love the moment "twisting heavy between them," and Remus's "automatic pleasantries" and Sirius as a magpie, and the fact that they step out of the door "laden with food and coffee and indefinable moments."
this has been a terrible, incoherent review, i think. but
no subject
the remainder of that sentence is meant to be something along the lines of "this is absolutely wonderful, and you are so much better at this than i am, really!!"
<333
no subject
no subject
no subject
i always look forward to your feedback, not just because it's your world and i'm nervous about playing in it, but because you notice things in it that are there, but that i didn't think about when i wrote it. like the sacrificial bass player - it's obvious now, but it didn't occur to me at the time. it just made me laugh - the early morning drifting mind.
and i didn't actually have a problem with the dialogue, that i can remember, aside from the fact that i almost -never- write it, and so i feel odd using it. which is funny - you'd think that having ready-made dialogue would make it easier. but i didn't want to be too repetitive so that's the biggest reason why i trimmed it. also, i had sort of an idea that sirius would obsess over conversation but remus would be all about space and motion, and so he wouldn't think about the words in the same way sirius would. if that makes sense at all.
i think the rhythm comes from endless drabble writing. and. yup. thank you, as always! <3
no subject
no subject