Slash, yeah? Just in case you hadn't picked that up from the summary. So, if that's not your thing, fine. Just please don't be small-minded and flame just because it's a boy/boy pairing.

Tap, tap, tap.

One of the two boys in the Gryffindor dorm pulls away from the other, ears pricked up.

Tap, tap, tap.

There it is again; no mistaking it this time.

'Pad!' he hisses, voice unnaturally sharp and tight, 'someone's coming!'

A low, breathless laugh. 'No need to tell m–'

'No, idiot! Footsteps!'

Fortunately, at least something of the implications of this fact penetrate through the languid, lusty haze and into Sirius Black's brain (such as it is), and send him into a flurry of frantic activity.

Anyone watching would know that this isn't the first, second or even the third time the two of them have nearly been caught. Anyone watching would see how something in the practiced slickness of the routine speaks volumes. Every last movement – pulling at the other's zip, grappling with the other's buttons, running a hand through the other's hair – is down to almost an art.

But it isn't perfect, not yet – a hiss of breath on a caught zip, fingers tangled in sheets and shirts.

'Bugger! Moon, the zip on your fly's stuck!'

'Here, let me do it…'

Seconds ticking by, faster and faster, measured out by the footsteps. Alarm becomes panic, but then a final, desperate yank frees the offending zip. Quickly, quickly, there's barely time as it is. Finishing touches, now – ties pulled just-loose-enough, shirts artfully half-untucked, sleeves carelessly rolled up just so.

The last few seconds, and the innocent intruders' voices – it sounds like there's two, maybe three – rise to a warning buzz. Remus performs the obligatory last check, although there's no time for more than a hasty raking of eyes around the room to search out any incriminating evidence, as Sirius stumbles over to his own bed and casts around for both a suitably innocuous topic of conversation and a book or a bag or something to arrange in his lap.

Minor snag aside, the pair are safe – this time. The spun-sugar web of lies they've woven between themselves and the rest of the world has held once again, and when James Potter and Peter Pettigrew stagger in, drunk on laughter at another dirty joke, they don't notice anything out of the ordinary.

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black exchange strikingly identical feline grins.

Mischief managed.

Well, you know what? I just couldn't resist. See, Mischief Managed was in the hundred themes challenge on DeviantArt, and the idea for this little ficlet just… dropped into my head.

*hopeful face*

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