Marauders One Shots

Pancakes (R.L.)

Warnings: it gets a little steamy, but nothing graphic - making out and all that jazz. mentions of food.

Word count: 1.2k

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Something tickling your face wakes you from your dreams. Rubbing your eyes, you see that it's Remus' hair tickling your nose. His head is on your chest with a leg thrown over yours. You want to laugh; he's effectively pinning you to the bed. You run a finger down the length of his nose, enjoying the way he scrunches it up in his sleep. He murmurs incoherently before settling back into his dream.

You manoeuvre your way out from underneath the love of your life. You take a moment to watch him sleep; Remus looks so young in sleep – the worries that plague him in his daily life disappear when he sleeps, and he looks his age. Old, silver scars cover his nose, his cheekbones. He's most insecure about these so you made it your mission when you fell in love with him that if you are to kiss his face, you would kiss him on those scars. He may not like them, but to you, they're just as much a part of him as his intelligence or his lycanthropy.

Looking around the bedroom, you bite your lip at the mess. Clothes thrown in a hurry, landing on different pieces of furniture – you don't miss the grey scraps of your t-shirt, remembering how Remus tore it from your torso. You turn to check the time but find the alarm clock smashed to pieces on the floor... where you had kicked it.

You grab a shirt from the floor, pushing your arms through the sleeves, knowing immediately that it's Remus' from the size and smell. The hem of the shirt skims the middle of your thighs as you tiptoe downstairs to the kitchen, ravenous after last night's activities.

The sun is barely rising as you enter the kitchen. The rays painting the room a pale pink. You watch the early morning sun begin to rise from the window, enjoying the start of the day in peaceful silence. Today, would be a long one, with family arriving for Remus' birthday.

You sigh, rubbing your arms at the slight chill in the kitchen, suddenly wishing you had found some sweatpants on the floor.

Your mental to-do list is getting longer and longer by the minute, but it's pushed to the side momentarily as your stomach begins to growl, desperate for some sort of breakfast.

You gather the ingredients for pancakes before turning on the radio; needing background music as you prepare breakfast for both yourself and the sleeping man upstairs. He needed the sleep; the lunar cycle combined with the missions from the Order, he had barely slept all month. He needed the sleep, for if Sirius plans were to happen, he would not be getting any sleep for his birthday.

You had fully intended on letting him relax all night, but then he looked at you in a way that showed his love and affection for you. He had pulled you down onto the bed beside him, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips, to your neck, to your chest and before you knew it, you were lost in each other. The idea of sleep was the furthest thing from your mind when Remus' mouth landed in the right spot.

"Is... is that my shirt?" Remus questions from the doorway, startling you from your reminiscing of the night previous.

You turn from mixing the pancake batter, smiling at him, eyes running across his bare chest, "You scared me! I didn't know you were up."

He smiles, "Your side of the bed was empty. I woke to investigate. Are you wearing my shirt?"

"It's the first thing I could find in our mess of a room, and I think you may have ripped mine last night, trying to get it off me."

Remus chuckles, his eyes running up and down your body, taking notice of your bare legs, "I can't say I'm sorry about that. We really did make a mess, didn't we?"

You laugh with him, "Did you see the state of the alarm clock?"

He rubs the back of his neck; eyes shining with mirth, "I did, I don't suppose I did that?"

"Nope, that was all me." You state, somewhat proudly, "I want to say it happened somewhere between rounds two and three but honestly, who knows?"

"What are you making?"

"Pancakes," You answer, "I thought we'd have a nice breakfast before Sirius and the gang start to arrive for your birthday."

"What did I do to deserve pancakes?"

"Well, for starters, I don't know about you, but after last night, I am starving. And who doesn't deserve pancakes on their birthday?"

You continue to mix the ingredients as Remus watches you for one moment more from his place in the doorway. At some point before he came downstairs, you had put the radio on low and now you in the lull of your conversation, you were swinging your hips to the sound of Rick Springfield. Remus watches you utterly immersed into the sog; singing along to the lyrics quietly and he wonders just how on earth he got so lucky to have someone like you fall in love with someone like him.

He had gone through his entire education without truly loving someone or feeling like he could be loved himself. Then he met you at the first meeting of the order; a witch talented in Potions and mission strategy. He had fallen from the moment you said hello; he didn't know until a lot later than you had fallen for him at the exact same time.

You grab the chocolate chips from the cupboard as Remus makes his way into the kitchen, leaning on the counter. You grasp his chin, pressing a light kiss to his lips, whispering, "Happy Birthday," against them.

He smiles against your mouth before pulling away enough to whisper, "Thank you, my love."

Remus wraps his arms around your waist as you add chocolate chips to the pancake batter.

He runs his nose along the expanse of your neck, inhaling as he does so. "You smell so good," He groans.

You laugh, "I don't see how. We didn't exactly have time to shower last night."

"No, we didn't. I suppose we'll have time to shower and to eat later."

Remus spins you in his arms before you can question what he means, crashing his lips to yours in a messy kiss.

His hands travel to the top of your thighs, tapping twice, signalling you to jump. You do, wrapping your legs around his waist as he sets you gently on the kitchen counter. His hands now wander along your body; tracing light patterns on your thighs raising goosebumps in his wake. You moan into his mouth at feel of his hands so close to where you need him.

You pull away, not far but far enough to whisper, "Don't play, Remus."

"Oh no?" He smirks, dropping his head to press butterfly kisses to your neck, kissing over the hickeys already bruising there.

You groan as he nips at your skin; your hands settle in his hair, pulling slightly. "Remus," You murmur.

He hums, continuing his onslaught of kisses. His hands have left your thighs now; they're opening the buttons to his shirt so slow you're sure it's torture, his fingers barely graze your bare skin. His touch close to driving you towards insanity.

"Remus, breakfast." You remind him.

Remus chuckles; one of his hands moving to a place that has you gasping against him. He grins wickedly, "I'm already having it, dear."

You let yourself surrender into his touch. Pancakes can wait until later... a lot later.