Work Text:
After Mum and Dad have thanked Sirius for the visit, Remus can't help feeling happy to see him lingering at the edge of the orchard.
Sirius looks like he, too, wishes that the two of them could still share some intimate moments here. A gust of wind blows aside the black tendrils from hanging over one eye as he turns his head towards the most sheltered, south-facing corner. Perhaps he's enticed by the sweet, rich scent...
No, they need to hurry. “Come on, Pads! We must take the Floo to Diagon now, so there's time to buy presents before Wormy's party.”
“No...” Sirius is not following Remus towards the house. “I know! I've got something we can give him.”
This makes Remus stop. “We?”
“It can be a joint gift.”
That would not please Peter, rather make him feel jealous, besides making his presents fewer. “What – ?”
“That album I told you about!" Sirius sounds excited. "The Stranglers' debut album, from last year. Perfect for a rat friend!”
“Oh, Rattus Norvegicus!” Maybe that'll do, and there's no need for shopping.
“Exactly! The title's the taxonomic name for the common brown rat. Besides, it's high time he learns to listen to punk.”
Now their shared exhilaration makes Remus grin. “Perhaps he'll like the song that the BBC censored...”
“Yeah, Peaches!” Sirius starts playing air guitar, and his voice sounds perfect for the song. “Why don't you come on and lap me up/ Walking on the beaches looking at the peaches/ Oh shit...”
“Why don't you come on...” Remus repeats, grabbing him by the hand, as he gets another idea. “We can give Wormy a combination of two presents.”
It may first look like a random combination, but Wormy will soon see it isn't random at all. Besides, that part of the gift Remus has now come up with is most sweet.
He feels rich when he can offer fresh fruit to the birthday boy. And, first of all, to this aspiring punk vocalist.
Pulling Sirius under the fruit-bearing branches, he inhales the combined fragrances of the delicate “Persian plums” and of his dear Pads.
He won't hurry when he reaches for a sun-blushed peach, cups it in a gentle palm, and finds it perfectly-ripened, ready to drop with slightest persuasion. He and Sirius will share the pleasure of caressing the fuzzy peel and of savouring the luscious pulp, lapping it up. All of it, up to the juice trickling down each other's skin.