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When Sirius woke up on the crisp morning of December 23d he didn’t feel particularly happy. The world was too cold and too white and he had grown rather fond of his toes and decided not to risk losing them by carelessly leaving the safety of his warm bed. Getting up meant cold floors and fruitless efforts to find clean socks that had managed to survive James’s failed (but valiant!) attempt at making all items of clothing in the Gryffindor Tower sing a rather naughty version of ‘God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs’ (the consequences of which could still be seen just above the fireplace where the statue of Godric Gryffindor was enjoying long discussions with its new friend - particularly eloquent, and disturbingly politics-oriented, Frank Longbottom’s yellow y-fronts). In the end, though, he had to take the risk.
When Flitwick threw a fit over a mysterious illness that made his choir cluck instead of sing that well-practiced vibrato and Sirius ended up scrubbing floors muggle style as a punishment, he didn’t feel particularly happy. The world was still too cold and too white and had way too many Filches and Mrs. Norises and sodding students who thought throwing bubble gums on the floor was a bloody great idea. Until the time he got back to the Gryffindor Common Room Sirius couldn’t feel his knees. Nor his arms. Nor his toes which was a damn shame.
When James announced he was going to spend his evening with Evans, Sirius didn’t feel happy at all (‘sorry mates, I know I promised you we would get pissed tonight but I think Lily has some plans. You know, plans plans. Sirius, don’t give me that look, if you were out shagging I’d be happy for you. Well, that sounds all wrong but you know what I mean.’) No James meant that Peter would be off to bed early with some shitty excuse and Remus, being Remus, would probably decide that this particular evening was a perfect sort of evening for reading the latest edition of Science Uncovered – Everything Young Wizards and Witches Need To Know About Science. The world was still too cold, too white and Sirius’s plans of getting sloshed and doing whatever drunk Marauders generally tended to do (which, oddly enough, always seemed to include a minor explosion), were flushed down the toilet. And if Myrtle found them, well then, Hogwarts finally had an explanation for those awful sobbing noises coming from the girls bathroom on the first floor.
So, when all these things really did happen, Sirius was downright miserable. Peter was, as expected, in the dormitory snoring. Remus was seated in the red armchair in the Common Room, reading ‘Twenty One Uses of Cleansing Potions’ and generally making Sirius’s eyes bleed by wearing the ugliest jumper the mankind had ever had a misfortune to see. Sirius was curled up on the floor, in front of the fireplace, silently cursing everything and everyone, from strawberry ice-cream to James’s coffee mug with moustache (which was very opinionated when it came to Sirius and quite vocal every time he got out of the shower -‘Bonjour beau!’-).
At least it wasn’t so cold anymore, Sirius tried to comfort himself. The fire was nice, true, but the sound of Remus’s delicate fingers flipping through the pages of his book was absolutely annoying! Sirius sighed from the bottom of his soul (something that would have touched the heart of Voldemort himself, but apparently it had no effect on bookish werewolves.)
“Moony?” he said miserably, aiming for that specific whine that always made Remus roll his eyes but Sirius knew how the corner of his lips always quirked upwards.
“Hmm?” Remus turned the page of his book.
“Is that a particularly interesting book?”
“Ah, this one? Yes, I’d say it’s rather fascinating.”
Sirius considered this for a moment. “More fascinating than throwing dungbombs at Slytherins?” he asked hopefully.
Remus didn’t even blink, the wanker. “I am going to have to say yes.”
“Oh come on Moony! “ Sirius exclaimed in what would be later described as a perfect demonstration of child petulance. “I’m bored, so much in fact that I may die! And it will be all your fault. I am going to die and you wankers won’t even bat an eye, since you seem to be getting some awfully good practice at it right now.”
Remus, apparently, wasn’t moved. “Tragic, indeed.” He murmured, still reading.
“You’d be sorry.” Sirius snorted. “I’m gonna be dead and you’re gonna have a guilty conscience!”
“Mhm. What a terrible loss that would be.”
“Yes! Everyone would be mourning. Both muggle and wizarding world would weep for days!”
“You break my heart.” Remus said, not sounding heart-broken at all.
Sirius briefly considered throwing that stork-shaped vase at him (yes, the one that used to be a chair before Peter started practicing Transfiguration). The problem was this particular action required physical effort and he didn't get 'lazy prick' yelled at him across the courtyard on a day-to-day bases for doing nothing. Wait, what? “Bastard.” He murmured instead, pointedly turning his back to the offending party.
For the next four minutes and thirty two seconds they were quiet. But how long could you sit and stare at the fire before the overwhelming urge to throw a certain book in it overtook you? A certain book together with its owner? The answer was four minutes and thirty three seconds
“Moony?”
Remus sighed. “Yes, Padfoot?”
Well, here we were. That particular sigh from Remus meant one of the following things – either his mind was set on reading and you could burn down the whole castle and he wouldn’t even blink or he had constipation. Considering they had had sea food for dinner (some of those things were still moving in their plates, trying to escape!), Sirius knew it wasn’t the latter.
This meant Sirius had a tough task ahead of him - to think of something interesting enough that would make Moony forget all about his stupid book. Easier said than done. He only had one thing in mind that could work but this particular thing required mistletoe and a well thought out speech and, besides, Sirius had decided that the perfect timing for The Thing to happen was Christmas. So, way too early, way too early to tell Remus how he made Sirius's insides squirm all too pleasantly when he smiled, how Sirius wanted to snog him senseless every time he bit his lip, how distracting he found the way Remus tilted his head when writing his homework (and how his jeans became scarily uncomfortable every time Remus sucked on his quill) Sirius gulped. No, definitely not now. Except, some distant part of his brain coughed and pointed out (rather annoyingly if Sirius might add) that planning things usually ended up more or less tragically and always with a broken limb. Improvisation, it advised. Improvisation, Sirius repeated. He had long ago realized that this particular part of his brain tended to be surprisingly smart and usually right. He sighed.
“What if I found something really, really interesting for us to do, would you toss that book away then?” he asked slowly.
Remus finished reading a paragraph before he looked at Sirius. “Will it include all sorts of pustules growing on Filch’s face?” he asked carefully.
“No.”
“Some kind of an explosion?”
“No.”
“House elves having a nervous breakdown?”
“No.
“Anything of the following words – ‘Slughorn’, ‘Erumpent’s crap’, ‘ Slughorn’s mother’ and ‘Slughorn’s mother’s fanny’?
“Moony!” Well, they could do that thing with the Erumpent again. That had been fun. He shook his head. “No.”
Remus considered it for a moment, chewing his lip in a way that made Sirius squirm uncomfortably. “Will I have to get up from the chair?” he asked.
“Well, you don’t have to.” Sirius said.
“Fine. What did you have in mind?” he asked, setting the book aside. Sirius beamed a little at this small victory.
“So, um.” Sirius paused, gathering all of his Gryffindor courage. Well, this was the only thing that could make Moony forget about the book and let's face it, Sirius was, indeed, pants at planning things. That mistletoe would probably be full of rabid Nargles and they would bite Remus to death before Sirius even had a chance to tell him anything, let alone demonstrate his snogging skills. He shivered at the thought. Well then. Sirius cleared his throat and walked over to Remus’s chair on his knees.
He took a deep breath as Remus eyed him suspiciously. “I wasn’t going to tell you anything until tomorrow, ‘twas supposed to be a Christmas surprise.”
“The expression is 'Christmas present', Sirius.” Remus said patiently. “That’s a good thing. Surprises on the other hand...well, knowing your definition of a surprise, that's never a good thing. Someone always ends up in the Hospital Wing.” Sirius opened his mouth to protest but Remus interrupted him. “And my eyebrows just grew back.”
That was pure exaggeration, Sirius thought. “It can be a good thing!”
“No, not really.” Remus shook his head.
Fine. “Well I don’t expect you to understand. I’ve always been rather-”
“Mental?” Remus supplied.
“Innovative.”
“Ah.” Remus smiled.
That smile sent little sparks of electricity that went straight to Sirius’s stomach. “So. Ahem.” he tried again. Improvisation, his brain reminded him.
“Well, fuck it!" he sighed. "I’ll just cut to the chase."
"Please do." Remus said.
"I know you’ve noticed the way I look at you lately, I can tell you did, your eyebrow twitches all funnily and your face turns a brilliant shade of fuchsia.” That was the truth and Sirius didn’t know why Remus looked so dumb-struck at the moment. He was looking at Sirius as if he was a patient from St.Mungo’s Insanity Ward who just made a very indecent proposal involving rotten eggs, his mother and Snape.
“Moony? You okay?”
He just nodded and Sirius allowed himself one small, triumphant smile.
“And, well, I think you look at me like that too. A lot. Except I don’t turn into a tomato, because I’m all cool and whatnot-”
“You do to!” Remus interrupted him with a shaky voice, his face instantly turning that afore mentioned shade of fuchsia. Lovely, Sirius thought slightly dazed.
“Praise heavens, he can speak!” Sirius chuckled. “Fine. I do.” he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Anyway I've decided that we can’t do this anymore. Since your balls are microscopic, dried and pressed in some herbarium, next to Prunus Serotina or something very unmanly like that, the only logical thing is that I make the first move. Because if we waited for you to make up your mind, I’d be all wrinkled and impotent, with a plastic hip or arthritis and I really want to try some things with you before that happens. Some things that require healthy hips and a fabulous stamina.“
Remus opened his mouth then closed it, managing to blush and frown at the same time. “Please don’t tell me this is one of those conversations that starts all weird and we end up discussing your ability to perform. Actually you discuss it, we don’t really listen and Peter has a heart attack.”
Sirius blinked. Really. “Remus. Did you hear a word I said?
“Stamina.” Remus said and that made Sirius grin smugly.
“That comes later, you insatiable werewolf.” he chided.
“I don’t like where this is going." The way Remus's shoulders tensed up meant that he was getting extremely uncomfortable. "First of all, there is nothing wrong with the size of my balls, thank you very much and...” he paused before glaring at Sirius. “Fucking Merlin! This is a prank, isn’t it?! If this is a prank Sirius Black, I swear to god I’ll-”
“Not a prank, you wanker. “ Sirius snorted, as he nudged in to kneel between Remus's legs. Remus seemed to be frozen, his eyes fixed on Sirius’s face, expression unreadable.
Sirius took a deep breath again. ”Remus J. Lupin,” he declared. “I like you very, very much, in the kind of way that makes me want to put my hand down your pants, sorry, not very romantic I know. But I think you like me that way too and...and I’d reallyliketokissyounow.” he blurted out.
For a long moment no one said a word. Finally, Remus cleared his throat “Sirius?”
“Yes?” Sirius fought back the childish urge to close his eyes, run upstairs (with eyes closed, yes) and hide under his bed just like that time, in his first year, when he had been hiding from a very pissed off portrait of The One Eyed Troll.
Remus’s face was completely unreadable. “I don’t want you to put your hand down my pants.” he said, voice calm but Sirius could feel that particular mischief tone curling around the words. Sirius’s heart swelled.
“Yes you do.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’d say only for you but then I’d have to castrate myself because of great and utter unmanliness of that statement. Fuck everything, can I kiss you now?”
“No. Are you-?
“Drunk, high, mentally unstable? No. Well, the latter is debatable.” Sirius let out an impatient huff of breath. “Sure, serious, head over heels in love with you? Yes.”
Remus snorted, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
“And you’re one hundred percent sure I like you back that way?”
“Positive, I’ll have you know that I’m very observant.”
“So, Lily told you?”
“She might have mentioned something. Sorry.“ Sirius shrugged, not feeling very sorry at all. “Are you mad?”
Remus thought about it for a moment. “Surprisingly no.”
“Can I kiss you now?”
“No.”
“Why not?” He let out a whine to express his deep frustration about the way this situation was developing.
“Because I’m gonna kiss you. Nutter.” Remus smiled, grabbing Sirius by the arms and pulling him up, right in his lap. The book fell to the floor, forgotten, as Remus curled his hand at the back of Sirius’s neck, fingers brushing into his black hair. He leaned in and kissed an astonished "Moony?” from Sirius’s lips, slow and soft and utterly, utterly, brilliant.
Sirius made a noise, some kind of a terribly emasculating moan which would most certainly shame him later and whispered “Cheeky bastard.” before sliding his tongue in Remus’s mouth, chasing the elusive taste of chocolate and mmm…pineapples.
Just when things were starting to get interesting, when Sirius’s hand was under Remus’s shirt eliciting all sorts of wonderful noises from him, a loud whistle interrupted it all.
“I knewit! I blody knew it! Tossers!” Peter stood at the top of the stairs to the boys dormitory, sly grin on his face. “Just one thing, lads. Who’s paying for the years of therapy that I am going to need now?” he asked, looking way too smug for Sirius’s liking.
Remus flushed and buried his face in Sirius’s chest. So much for that famous prefect eloquence. “Peter. Pete. Wormtail.” Sirius sighed, “Would you do us a favour and kindly piss off now unless you wanna see something that only a lobotomy could fix?” he asked calmly, putting a hand on Remus’s crotch to clarify in case Peter didn't get it. That action had two results: one was that Remus gasped, hips involuntary pushing up against Sirius's hand, and the other one was that Peter disappeared, quick like lightning.
“Moony?” Sirius whispered against his ear.
One mortified, muffled “Hmff? was all that came from Remus’s mouth.
“I take it back, you don’t have microscopic balls.”
All Remus could do was burst into laughter and kiss Sirius again.