tea-an-toast

a very dishevelled auror taking care for the frightening deatheater 

a companion picture to the pastel Draco

inspired by @drarrysgirl‘s idea:

This is Harry’s shirt and he’s thrown it on to go looking for him & found him making tea and toast in the kitchen, bare foot & shirtless wearing only low hanging lounge pants and sex hair…..

I hope it’s ok I pasted it here! 

also tagging @shelielaff who seemed interested in a sequel ;D

Modernwolfstar!au in which Sirius has been at war and surprises Remus by coming home early…


  • It had been almost 10 months and still, Remus woke up surprised at the cold emptiness on the other side of the bed.
  • He still stared at the long unused toothbrush in the cup next to the sink he never touched.
  • He still took two mugs of tea down from the cupboard, just out of habit, only to have to put one back.
  • Still caught himself about to yell for Sirius, maybe ask him if he’d seen his favorite jumper.
  • But then he’d remember.
  • Remember that he’s sleeping alone.
  • Remember that he only needs one mug.
  • Remember that Sirius’ has his favorite jumper with him.
  • He remembers that Sirius is overseas, and has been for a while now.
  • So he takes a deep breath and sits up, repeating to himself that he just has to get through another day.
  • He shuffles into the kitchen just like he does every morning. Taking down tw- one mug for his morning tea and starts some toast and a nice egg scramble. He only needs two eggs, he reminds himself.
  • He tries not to turn on the television. Tries to tell himself that it does him no good to watch the news, only makes him worry.
  • But just like every morning, the remote wins out and the screen flickers to life.
  • The images of fire on the screen give him the chills but he can’t seem to look away. He can’t seem to stop himself from listening intently to the number of dead that day, the number of missing.
  • Fifteen dead in a raid last night, the tv says.
  • Remus has to grab onto the back of the chair to keep himself upright through the waves of fear that start crashing over him.
  • Please let him be okay.
  • The newswoman switches on a blinding smile when she finishes the update, proceeding to talk about why some celebrities are getting a divorce.
  • Remus nearly breaks the clicker when he jams his thumb down on the power button.
  • He sits at the kitchen table, a steaming plate of eggs in front of him, his book beside him, the silence hanging around him.
  • He shoves the food around his plate some, stares at the words on the pages.
  • He decides, like every morning, that he could use a shower (a desperate attempt to calm himself down and clear his head)
  • The makes the water nearly icy, trying to wake and numb himself at the same time - it seems to be the only way he can get through the day. He lets it run over his shoulders, into his mouth, cause his hair to cling to his forehead.
  • By the time he turns the water off he’s shivering but he welcomes it because at least it makes him feel something other than constant loneliness and worry.
  • He dries himself before slipping into a fresh pair of sweatpants, and pulling out one of Sirius’ sweatshirts.
  • When he shuffles back out to the living room, he goes to make some more tea but is stopped by the doorbell.
  • He sighs, hoping it isn’t Lily, or James, or anyone else because he really can’t be bothered right now. He doesn’t need another pep talk about how he had to keep on living his life normally and “focus on the positives” - he doesn’t even listen when they talk anymore.
  • But still, he’s never been one to turn people away so he just buzzes them up without asking which on of them it is.
  • He’s waiting in front of the door, waiting for the knock so he can pull it open and tell them to go away.
  • He hears footsteps in the hall through the thin walls, hears them stop at the door.
  • But the knock doesn’t come right away.
  • James or Lily stops and just stands there on his doormat for a good 20 seconds.
  • Remus is about to question exactly who he let in when a soft knock sounds.
  • And he really isn’t sure who it is now because both James and Lily would have wanted to come in instantly… so he slides the chain lock into place, and then carefully, slowly, opens the door the least he could and peers through.
  • And his heart stutters to a stop.
  • Because his vision is suddenly full of greens and browns and heavy boots with the laces un-done and glinting dog-tags and strong hands and broad shoulders and shining grey eyes and-
  • And Sirius.
  • Sirius who he hasn’t seen in almost a year
  • Who he’s missed so much that it physically hurt sometimes.
  • Who he’s worried and cried over to the point where he couldn’t breath with how heavy the weight was on his chest.
  • Sirius who’s here- standing on the other side of the door.
  • And Remus tries to jerk the door open but the fucking chain is locking it and he just ends up badly banging his elbow and nearly ripping the door from its hinges.
  • And it kills him but he shuts the door and undoes the lock with fumbling, shaking fingers, then flings the door back open. For a moment, he’s scared Sirius’ isn’t going to be there.
  • But when he opens the door again, there he is.
  • And Remus feels weak, like he just wants to cry.
  • Because he’s right there.
  • Sirius’ chest is rising rapidly, his hands tight around the straps of his back. The top buttons of his uniform are undone in a careless fashion, and his eyes are shining, a tearful smile on his lips.
  • “Moons…”
  • But Remus can’t even respond. There’s a lump in his throat and he’s not sure what will come out if he tries to talk. He can only stand there, shaking, gazing at Sirius.
  • “Re..” And then Sirius is taking a step forward and it is suddenly very apparent to Remus that there is nothing between them; not a door, not a phone, not an ocean.
  • Sirius takes another step, dropping his back to the floor just inside the door. Their chests are almost brushing, “Say something…” he whisper.
  • And finally, Remus finds his voice and he says the only thing he can think of as he stands there able to feel Sirius’ body heat, his breathing,
  • “You’re home..” His breath hitches and his eyes burn, “You’re home-“
  • And then Sirius is catching Remus’ cheeks in the palms of his hands, wiping at the tears, “I’m home.”
  • And the numbness he had been so desperate to maintain is suddenly washed away from Remus, his body ignited by Sirius’ touch.
  • Sirius.
  • It’s the only thing he can say before he’s throwing his arms around Sirius’ neck, jumping and hooking his ankles around his waist until their entire bodies are pressed together.
  • He’s crying now - really crying - but he presses his lips hard to Sirius’ anyway.
  • He kisses him hard, desperately, because it has been so long.
  • And Sirius is holding onto him just as tight, arms holding Remus tightly. He makes a small sound of pure relief when Remus kisses him.
  • But then Remus is pulling away because he’s not ready to not see Sirius’ face yet - not even for a few seconds. 
  • His still shaking hands come up and push through Sirius’ hair - his hair that is no longer brushing his chin but instead curling up above his ears, the short strands wavy and sticking in different directions.
  • “You cut your hair.” Remus knows he’s practically caressing Sirius’ face over and over but he doesn’t care - he just needs to feel that Sirius is actually there.
  • And Sirius lets out a wet laugh but it’s the most beautiful sound Remus has ever heard, “Of course you’d notice that.”
  • And then Remus is laughing and crying too and running his fingers over Sirius’ lips and then kissing them again.
  • “You’re home..” He whispers, forehead leant against Sirius’, allowing the blissful sensation of relief and love fill him to the brim.
  • And Sirius just nods, holding Remus tighter (he never wants to let go),
  • “I’m home…”

“I make my tea and I make my toast and I eat it standing up my doorway, sniffing the air. I know, in the giant library of memories that is in my brain, that maybe there was a moment when I thought I was placing my eggs in one basket, taking a huge risk with my heart, and that maybe I walked into some traps and I was misled or misused by the same people who celebrated me, but that I had to live and I had to taste tastes and be touched and that a broken heart keeps beating and resilience is really what I have always loved about myself, because I both feel it happening and am curious about its occurrence every time” 

-Jenny Slate, About the House

It was the heat of a thousand moments culminating in one great flash of starburst and sunlight and it was John.

John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, retired Royal Army Medical Corps trauma surgeon turned part-time general practitioner, part-time personal physician, part-time blogger, medical expert, bodyguard, tea-and-toast-pusher, 1.69 meters tall, blond hair, blue eyes, forty-two years of age, once divorced, stop: now, standing in the kitchen of 221B, holding Sherlock’s bicep in his hand, keeping him tethered to the earth.

It was John, who had carefully pried the mug from Sherlock’s fingers–frozen in anticipation, in want, in that daring hope he was never able to fully crush–it was John, who had said, “That’s quite enough of that, don’t you think?”

And brushed his mouth against Sherlock’s, gently, softly, slowly, a whisper of nerve-endings and it takes between thirty-four and one hundred and forty-six muscles to kiss someone.

That’s what John was doing: kissing Sherlock.

—  darcylindbergh, the lingering taste of orange juice
8

Saint Amaro

Goodbye Christmas  ☔️🎄

 Heavy rain pouring outside and the cold wad more intensely felt probably due to the humidity. Willow Creek it was a very damp place because of the vegetation.  Josh left the Hospital earlier that day and decided to go fetch Jasmine at her office to grant her a nice surprise.

- I’ll bring flowers to Jasmine, it’s been a while since I gave her a bouquet. -Thought Josh to himself.

(…)

- Surprise!! - Shouted loud Josh.

- You scared me Josh. - Said Jasmine. 

(…)

In Saint Amaro’s day, tradition dictates to disassemble the Christmas tree and remove the decoration, thereby greeting farewell to Christmas. 

- Baby, do you feel like having a hot cocoa or a lemon tea? - Questioned Josh.

- I do, I’d like a lemon tea. - Replied Jasmine.

- A toast drink? - Offered Josh.

- A toast to what? - Asked Jasmine.

- Be criative?!- Answered Josh.

- May our next Christmas be spent in our new home! - Wished Jasmine.