rottedfawns

a reylo minific

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The stove light was the only thing on when Ben stumbled out of his room, drawn by the soft clink of a spoon against ceramic.

Rey was perched on the counter—knees drawn up, bare feet braced against the cabinet door, a bowl balanced in her lap. She was wearing his old academy t-shirt, the gray one with the cracked logo, hem pooling around her thighs. Her hair was down, wild from sleep, and she didn't even look up as she shoveled in another spoonful of cereal like she hadn't a care in the world.

"You're going to fall off the counter," he said, voice rough with sleep.

"I have excellent balance." She finally glanced at him, eyes bright despite the hour. "What're you doing, sneaking around at 2am?"

"I live here."

"So do I. On this counter. Eating your cereal."

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, trying very hard to look anywhere that wasn't the long stretch of her legs. "That's the good stuff. The expensive stuff."

"Mm." She took another bite, entirely unrepentant. "Should've hidden it better."

"Rey."

"Ben."

He crossed the kitchen, opened the cabinet beside her head—close enough to catch the smell of her shampoo, something like green tea and the cheap vanilla candle she burned every winter—and grabbed a second bowl. "Move your feet."

She didn't move her feet. He set the bowl down next to her anyway, close enough that his knuckles brushed her ankle, and poured his own serving of the cereal she was decimating.

"You can't be mad," she said, watching him over the rim of her spoon. "I couldn't sleep."

"Why not?"

A pause. Something shifted in her face—softer, quieter, the 2am kind of honest that daylight never allowed. "I don't know. Just restless. Thought food might help."

"Did it?"

"Not really." She bumped her knee against his arm, small and easy, the kind of touch that had always lived comfortably in the space between them—except tonight it didn't feel comfortable. Tonight it felt like a live wire. "But the company's nice."

He looked up at her, cereal forgotten, and for one long moment neither of them said anything at all. The fridge hummed. Rey swung her legs over and off the counter, her bare foot pressing lightly against his hip where he now stood between her knees, and neither of them moved away.

"Rey," he said again, quieter this time.

"Yeah?"

"...Nothing." He picked up his spoon. "Eat your cereal."

That was half the point of it.

James had found it two summers ago by accident and Sirius had promptly declared it theirs. No peers, no family, no one to report back to parents or anyone who might ruin it. Just a long stretch of water tucked into the middle of the forest, the surface glassy and bright under the July sun.

By now, it felt like a secret the world had agreed to keep.

"Oi—watch it!"

Sirius barely got the words out before James lunged, arms hooking around his shoulders and dragging him under. The water swallowed them both in a rush of cool, warbled quiet, all sound reduced to muffled thrumming and the frantic kick of limbs.

Sirius twisted, shoving at James's chest, but James just grinned, visible even through the distortion of water, and held on for a second longer before pushing off and breaking the surface with a sharp inhale.

"Prat," Sirius sputtered, slicking his hair back as he came up beside him. "Nearly drowned me."

"You were fine," James said, treading water lazily. "You love it."

"I do not—"

James dunked him again.

When Sirius came back up this time, he didn't bother with words. He just went for revenge; hands on James's shoulders, trying to force him under. They grappled in the water, laughing, slipping, neither of them getting any real leverage. It was all limbs and splashing and the kind of roughhousing they'd been doing since they were eleven, just... bigger now. Stronger.

Closer, too, in a way that was harder to define.

"Hold still," Sirius said, half-laughing, half-breathless.

"Make me."

Sirius tried, he really did.

But James shifted at the last second, and suddenly Sirius had a grip on his arm instead of his shoulders, their momentum carrying them into each other instead of under the water. They collided, chest to chest, and for a second neither of them moved.

They were close enough that Sirius could see the water beading on James's eyelashes. Close enough that James's hand, still caught loosely around Sirius's wrist, felt warm despite the lake.

"Alright?" James asked, a little quieter than before.

"Yeah," Sirius answered.

And then, because neither of them stepped back--

Sirius leaned in.

It wasn't practiced, nor particularly careful. Just a brief press of mouths, a little off-angle, the kind of kiss that lasted barely longer than a breath before they both pulled away again.

The lake lapped quietly around them.

"Huh," James said.

Sirius let out a short laugh. "Yeah. Huh."

Neither of them seemed especially alarmed.

James tilted his head, considering. "We've... not done that before."

"No," Sirius agreed. "Can't say we have."

A beat.

"It was alright, though," James added, like he was commenting on the weather. Or a new broomstick. Casual. Honest.

Sirius shrugged one shoulder, treading water a little closer without seeming to notice he'd done it. "Yeah. It was."

Another pause stretched between them, but it wasn't awkward. Just... new. Being looked at like that. Looking back.

James's mouth quirked. "Reckon it'd be weird if we did it again?"

"Probably," Sirius said.

"Right."

They both stayed exactly where they were.

"...You want to?" James asked.

Sirius huffed a quiet laugh. "Bit curious now, yeah."

"Yeah," James said. "Same."

This time it was James who leaned in.

It was still easy. Still unhurried. Just a little more certain, less of a collision, more of a choice. Sirius's hand came up without thinking, resting briefly against the back of James's neck, fingers brushing damp hair. The kiss lingered a second longer this time before they broke apart.

James blinked at him. "Still alright."

Sirius grinned. "Reckon we're quite good at it, actually."

"Oh, definitely," James said, utterly serious. "Natural talent."

Sirius snorted, shoving at his shoulder. "You're insufferable."

"You love me."

"Tragically, yes."

They drifted there for another moment, the sun warm on their faces, the water cool around them. Nothing had shifted in any dramatic, world-altering way. No declarations. No sudden panic.

Just something added. Filed neatly alongside everything else they were.

James stretched, floating onto his back. "So what--this is just a thing now?"

Sirius considered it, then nodded. "Could be."

"Just... sometimes kissing your best mate."

"Yeah."

James grinned up at the sky. "Brilliant."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he couldn't quite hide his smile as he floated beside him.

"Don't tell the others," James added after a second.

"Oh, please," Sirius said. "Like you wouldn't immediately try to make it a whole dramatic announcement."

"I would not."

"You absolutely would."

"...Maybe a little."

Sirius laughed, tipping his head back, the sound carrying easily across the water.

Somewhere in the trees, a bird called.

The world stayed exactly as it was—bright, warm, uncomplicated.