Close Enough (PG; Snupin; 200 words)
Lupin's skin glowed like moonflower petals; Severus wasn't being poetical: he'd come into the forest to collect the flowers, and as he looked from the contents of his basket to the somnolent, nude Lupin curled against the base of a tree, he had ample evidence of his simile's accuracy.
Ample, he thought, swallowing, as he turned Lupin over to examine his wounds.
It was close enough to dawn to deal with them, he decided, setting aside his flowers and drawing his wand.
"Are you . . . singing over me?" Lupin asked hoarsely, sometime later.
Lupin smiled and stretched, placing his hands behind his head and watching Severus in that . . . disturbing way of his. "That does feel good."
"Don't mock me, Lupin."
"I'm not. It's nice, having someone look out for me."
"I'm not looking out for—"
Lupin smirked. "Looking at me, then."
"Damn it!" Severus rose and Summoned his basket, beginning to stalk away.
Lupin caught him by the shoulder and turned Severus to face him. "I know you're not really afraid of me, Severus, so why—"
"Address me appropriately, Professor Lupin. We are not friends."
"We could be."
Severus' eyes dropped to Lupin's mouth, and he leaned forward. "No, we couldn't—"