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Teenage Kicks
by Nicola
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Order of the Phoenix
Sirius had what James' dad liked to call "a healthy attitude towards life." James preferred to characterize it as fucking dementia.
If James said, "I've never," Sirius would counter it with, "We should."
Any fear, Sirius would trample on. Any unknown, Sirius would make known. Sirius would pounce where James would hesitate. Without Sirius, James rationalized, he would be left teetering on the edge. And where was the fun in that?
"This is the stupidest"—James' whole body shuddered with cold, and he exhaled the rest of the sentence with an icy mouthful of breath—"fucking idea you've ever had. And that's saying"—James felt himself sinking in the water—"fuck! That's saying a lot."
Strong arms grabbed hold of his shoulders. "Got you," Sirius murmured, creating a fleeting warmth as he brought his lips close to James' ear. For a moment, the two of them were suspended together, treading water.
Then Sirius broke free and began swimming away. His voice seemed disproportionately far away, swallowed up by the darkness, when he called, "C'mon, let's go inside." James could hear the smirk as he finished, "I'm bored."
Sirius rubbed at his wet hair with a towel. He seemed sleepy and content to James—sated was perhaps a more appropriate word for it. "Well, we'd never been swimming in the Great Lake at night before." His lips curved into a smile. "Have now. That's one to check off the list."
"What else is on this fated list?" James raked a hand through his own wet hair. His body still felt cramped and wrung through, despite the delicious warmth of the prefects' bathroom.
"Oh, you know." Sirius grinned widely. "Sex stuff. Duels. Horrific life-threatening adventures." He shook his head like a dog, splattering James with tiny droplets of water. "All the good stuff."
Before James could enquire further, Sirius blithely changed the subject. "It's a pretty nice deal you have here. Being head boy." He gestured to the lavish, high-ceilinged prefects' bathroom. "Almost worth all the sucking up."
"You can't be a bastard forever, Padfoot," James said wryly.
"Oh, I intend to go to my grave an absolute"—he shaped his mouth around the words, baring his teeth slightly—"complete bastard alright."
James gulped. He met Sirius' steely gaze with difficulty. He strove for casualness as he said, "So the sex part of this list . . ." James trailed off as the grin hardened across Sirius' face.
"You and me," Sirius said without hesitation.
"Not funny," James replied, a slight frown denting his forehead.
Sirius' face softened into faux-credulity. "It's right here on the list," he said innocently, gesturing to an invisible scroll. "Right above"—he squinted, apparently unable to read the scroll—"play the final Quidditch game naked." He smirked, casting aside the imaginary list. "That should be a fun one, too."
The warmth, the steam that curled lazily upwards from the enormous bathtub was making James feel fuzzy, easily muddled.
"Lighten up, Prongs," Sirius was saying, his voice rich with teasing. "It's just sex. It's kind of inevitable."
"Just for once could you," James finally rushed out, "could you stop being . . ." He was almost surprised to find an undercurrent of anger in his voice. The unspoken end to the question hung in the air. Such a bastard.
All of a sudden, Sirius reached out and pushed James into the water. Warm, soapy water closed over his head—an unsettling déjà vu to earlier that night. Sirius was next to him, and the two of them surfaced simultaneously.
James tried not to smile. "Bastard!" he exclaimed, shoving at Sirius.
Sirius did not retaliate. He just tilted his head back in the water, smiling slightly. "I was joking, you know," he said after a moment. "That's not . . . that's nothing . . . all the stuff we do. It's just . . . teenage kicks, I don't know." He caught James' eye briefly. "You and me. We're better than dares and lists and—"
James kissed Sirius hard, the weight of the unknown pushing him forward.
Sirius tried to cover his surprise. "Well okay then," he said abruptly. It seemed imperative for Sirius to initiate the second kiss and make it harder, more full-on than the first—apparently they weren't that far beyond one-upmanship.
James' hands slipped against Sirius' skin and he ended up fumbling as he tried to realign their bodies for longer, deeper kisses. Losing grip, he swiped his fingers down from Sirius' face to his throat to his chest.
"Are we doing this? We're doing this," Sirius murmured inarticulately against James' lips. "We're really doing this."
James pulled away unexpectedly—he wanted to see Sirius' face when he asked his question. "Scared?"
Sirius answered immediately, pulling James back towards him. "No."
April 2006
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