InsaneJournal

Current mood:	sleepy
Entry tags:	family, ficlet, five things, gen, humour, my fic, regulus black, sirius black, suggestive

yet five more things
for nehalenia, an unfortunate week-plus after her actual birthday, from this prompt, Five things in Sirius Black's closet (or drawers, or wherever he keeps his clothes and stuff).

*******

1. No dress robes. In fact, screw robes, full stop, most of the time; jeans and t-shirts all the way when he can get away with it, especially ones with clever pictures or smart-arsed slogans on. If he really needs something fancy for something important, like James's wedding, he can always Transfigure it.

2. Speaking of jeans and t-shirts, there's a higgledy-piggledy pile of them in there. Hey, bachelors have been using the system since caveman days, and far be it from Sirius to buck tradition! (The only fur coat he owns is not really one he can hang up, anyway.)

3. A smooth, flat stone about two inches across, grey in colour and flecked, unusually, with blue and gold specks, that Regulus gave him once a long time ago when they were still real brothers.

Sirius had just turned eight, and while they were out lazing around in the garden on an unusually clear and pleasant (if cool) day in early November, little Reg was whinging yet again about not being able to give him a birthday present that was just from him, no, really, it wasn't at all the same when Mother and Father said they would help him buy whatever he liked for his brother.

Sirius had sighed and closed his eyes and was just about to roll over in the grass and tell him once more to stop being such a little girl about it and it wasn't like he cared very much about that sort of stuff anyway when the stone, tossed from behind him where he couldn't see, landed with a firm pat on his stomach.

He was momentarily startled by the exactness of the throw, but was nevertheless about to tell Regulus a thing or two about throwing rocks at his older brother who had just had a birthday thank you very much when he noticed the stone's strange colouring.

"Reg?"

No answer. Sirius stared at the stone on his belly, slightly cross-eyed.

"Where did you get this?"

He could hear Regulus ruffling the grass rhythmically with his hand, probably considering his answer.

"Found it. Here."

"What, just like this?"

Another pause, somehow both embarrassed and smug.

"No. I guess I made it. I found it and I liked it, but I wanted it to be better, and it did that."

Sirius smiled. "It's great, Reg."

Regulus didn't say anything, but he ruffled the grass a little faster, in a pleased sort of way.

Sirius just let the stone lie there and soak up the sun.

He can still feel the warmth when he touches it.

4. A small collection of *snicker* personal clothing items *snicker* liberated from certain Slytherins. There are, of course, the routine brassieres and boxers, socks and slips, and even a girdle acquired from one plump young lady. However, he has two real prize pieces.

The first was a difficult catch since Sirius and James were merely second-years at the time they purloined it; crafty and resourceful second-years, to be sure, but second-years nonetheless. Still, youth and treachery prevailed over old age and skill, and they were able to claim a single sock garter which he has every reason to believe belonged to that stuffed shirt Lucius Malfoy.

The second, and better (or worse, depending on how one looks at these things), is a pair of greyish pants that are certified twins of a certain pair he once saw beneath a certain beech tree, hanging upside down on a certain skinny-legged body that was busy doing just the same thing at the time. (It has since slightly disturbed Sirius to discover that they seem to be about his own size.)

5. Two bottles of single-malt Scotch and one of some red wine all the way from California that he's saving for a really special occasion. To keep the bottles safe from his urges until a time of the most dire celebratory need, they are not simply in the closet, but actually underneath the aforementioned underwear pile. He reckons he'll be reluctant to dig through that merely to get to them. (No, of course he doesn't usually touch it. It's enough to know that it all exists, thank you. He doesn't need to catalog it fortnightly like some sad-act pervert!)

bonus!
6. His cock and bollocks. What else did you expect him to keep in his drawers?

What do you mean, "he doesn't keep them in there very well"? What sort of a remark is that? Hey, you, come back here, hey—!