The moon hung high in the sky. Sirius Black was seated next to a crackling camp fire. He watched the flame dance in the air, shades of white, warm reds and orange, and brilliant blue. The fire had token over thirty minutes for them to start it; it was his and James first time camping.
The air was pleasantly cold, in Sirius’ opinion. James disagreed, but it could be over 30 degrees and James would still be chilly, so it didn’t mean much. Some people just ran cold.
The snapping of tree branches announced James presence.
"Padfoot, I finished putting up the tent," he said excitedly. He had very explicitly stated that he wanted to do everything the muggle way. Sirius hadn’t exactly understand this, sure he was rather fond of muggles, but why would you intentionally make things harder for yourself? James had said that sometimes doing things by hand made it more meaningful. Something he’d learned when he was staying with Lily’s parents, back when they were dating, apparently.
James sat down next to him, and grabbed his right hand. Sirius twirled his hair with his left.
"Padfoot," he started, thumbing the palm of Sirius’ hand, "Look, I’ve been mulling over something…you know how some people get tattoos of their partner’s name?"
"You want to create a magical tattoo gun?" Sirius asked.
‘No, but I had an idea…what if I carved my initials into your skin."
Sirius did not respond. Sirius just stared at James. And then stared even more.
"Erm, It’s fine if you don’t want to. I knew you might think it was corny—"
"I like it. I wanna be yours forever."
"Oh. Okay. My knife’s in the tent."
James got up and Sirius followed him. The tent was a dark cyan. He walked in. It was much larger inside than out. Sirius sat down on a wooden chair. James got his knife from the kitchen. He stalked back over to Sirius.
Sirius trusted James with all that he had.
"Padfoot, you really are sure?" He asked quietly.
"Yes, Prongs. I’ve never been more sure in my life."
The knife made contact with the skin of his thigh, sending sharp pain through his leg.
Sirius looked at him as if he were the only person on earth. It was agonizing, the knife dragging down his skin. James peppered kissed all over his thighs, drinking the blood that dripped down his legs.
It felt like it took an eternity, but the “J.P” on his thigh was fully carved out.
"Vulnera Sanentur." James pointed his wand at the wound, closing it with a flick.
Sirius sighed in relief.
"Pads, you did so well, you didn’t even scream. You’re such a Good boy"
Sirius’ face was hot now. He wished James had phrased his sentences a bit better.
He let out a small laugh.
"Ah yes, not screaming while being slashed at, the height of obedience. We’re so good at romance."
James rolled his eyes, then dragged Sirius off the chair.
"What is a relationship without a little blood." James kissed his cheek.
The two men sauntered together toward their bed. James tackled him into the mattress. Sirius felt James’ hot breath on his face. James kissed him on the lips, dragging his teeth on Sirius’ bottom lip. Sirius felt his body grow hot. His heart was pounding. James shifted, his hands reaching for the buttons of Sirius’ pants.
“You’re okay, Padfoot?”
“Never been better, Prongs.”