Disclaimer: I disclaim.
A/N: Written for rt challenge on LJ, using the prompt: "A kiss is a lovely trick, designed by nature, to stop words when speech becomes superfluous." - Ingrid Bergman.
She thinks he's joking, at first, when he asks her out, because she's wanted it so much it scares her to think he's serious, in case she's mistaken and he's not.
It seems a very un-Remus thing to do, in a way, to just come out and say it, and so she laughs – and then he looks as if he wants the hallway to devour him and so she puts her hand on his arm and says yes, as seriously as she can muster when she's grinning.
The look in his eyes says he never really expected her to say that, and then he's grinning too, as if he really can't help himself.
She's liked him for ages – more and more by increments as he let her see who he really was.
She likes the way he hangs back and makes tea after the meetings, stops to inquire about people's families, and jobs, things they've mentioned in the past. She likes the way he takes an interest. She likes it especially when he does it to her, asks about her day, how that meeting she was dreading was, if she got another paper cut on that file she's always whinging about – and there are things, inflections in his voice, a certain kind of shy smile – that he saves just for her to let her know his questions aren't really about any of those things at all, and she likes that even more.
It was his kindness, she supposes, that drew her attention – but it's the way he catches her eye sometimes and they share a joke, a thought, without saying anything, that really makes her pulse race.
They talk about where they should go, now they've decided to go out, to make this thing they feel official. They come up with a list of places they can't go because they probably shouldn't be seen together, and he says he'll give it some thought and come up with somewhere, and she knows he'll think of a place that'll be its own kind of special, because that's just who he is.
Honestly, though, she doesn't care where they go, because this, this step in a gloomy hallway, has been the important thing, the nod they were both looking for that what they felt wasn't imaginary.
He shifts closer, and she's not entirely surprised, because everything that needed to be said has been, and now there's only one thing –
His lips are softer than she thought they would be –
He's softer than she thought he would be.
After so long spent wanting, she'd pictured open mouths and groping hands, desperation writ large in every gesture – but when his fingers find her face and are gentle, and his lips brush over hers again and again without demanding anything more, it's perfect.
He kisses exactly like he is.
And there's a feeling – vast and starry, like she's swallowed the sky.
This is it, she thinks. This is what love feels like.
A/N: Reviewers get warm and fuzzy werewolf feelings ;).