Work Text:
“Here you go,” Remus said, holding out a tall glass. “Drink this.”
“Ooh!” Sirius sat up from where he’d been spread out on the couch, flinging his legs, sending a few throw pillows flying on the floor, nearly kicking the glass out of Remus’ grip. He took it earnestly in both hands, inspecting the clear liquid inside. “What’s in this?”
“It’s a very special drink I made just for you called water.” Remus sat next to Sirius and patted him on his thigh. He snorted at the disappointment that took over Sirius’ face the second he’d ended his sentence. “Don’t look at me like that. I promise you’ll feel grateful for it in the morning.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Not a single sober person has ever said those words, love.”
It was nearly midnight on a Friday night. Remus was feeling a bit buzzed, though not nearly as much as Sirius, and the thought of clean bedsheets and Sirius’ warm body next to his had been brewing in the back of his mind for hours already, becoming more tempting by the minute. It had been a perfect, slow night, just relaxing with Sirius, drinking and telling each other their favourite stories about their childhood and earlier teens they’d been over dozens of times before and still managed to use to entertain them time after time.
Now, Remus decided, when Sirius had passed the point where he started to giggle out loud at his own thoughts and had nearly spilled the remaining wine from the bottle on the new rug, was the perfect time to call it a day and go to bed before they’d pass out on the couch. Even the thought of spending the night on anything that wasn’t their mattress made Remus’ back ache.
“Come on,” Remus said, offering Sirius his hands and helping him up. “Let’s go get cleaned up before bed.”
Sirius stood, holding onto Remus’ shoulders. “You’re an old man,” he said, as if reading Remus’ thoughts, grinning. “Your sore bones and early bedtimes.”
Remus truly couldn’t deny it. “At least I’m still a teenager, unlike you.”
“Just for a couple of more months, though.” Sirius kissed Remus’ cheek. His breath smelled like pizza rolls and red wine. “Your twenties are gonna hit you like a train. I probably should start looking for a place in a nursing home for you.”
“You mean you won’t stay home from work and take care of my sore bones? Get out of my sight.”
Sirius chuckled, the sound coming deep from his chest. He squeezed Remus’ shoulders, then let go and began to head towards the bathroom. His steps were unsteady, he walked in a sort of a bee-line, seeking support from the walls on both sides of him, but it didn’t really slow him down. He disappeared through the doorway before Remus even reached the corridor.
Their flat had one bathroom, a large one with grey tiles and loads of colourful candles they never burned on every flat surface to make the space look a little less depressing. Sirius was fluffing his hair in front of the mirror when Remus stepped in. It looked clean but frizzy from lying on the couch, knotted and no longer all sorted out in a way that Sirius could brush his hand through it and still have every single hair fall perfectly in their place. Remus watched him for a minute, Sirius’ slumped posture, how he swayed slightly on his feet even when standing still, humming to the song that had played during the end credits of the movie they’d watched hours before. Even in the grossly yellow, flickering light which they’d sworn they’d fix for months now, Sirius looked ethereal.
A smile snuck on Remus’ face. He was lucky. He was happy. He wanted to bottle up this moment into something he could consume instead of his painkillers and antidepressants, to make him always feel as light as he did now.
“Do you want me to do your hair? While you brush your teeth or something?”
Sirius glanced at him. His light eyes were muddy from alcohol, yet they still lit up every time Remus came into view, as if each time he saw him would be the first. “Would you?”
“Mm-hm.” Remus reached for a brush that rested in a basket full of hair stuff from tiny dry shampoo bottles to a four years old hair straightener neither of them had used once in their lives. He also grabbed a couple of hair ties and slid them around his wrist. Sirius was spreading toothpaste on his toothbrush.
“Would you sit down, it’s easier,” Remus suggested, and Sirius crashed cross-legged on the floor, waiting for Remus to settle behind him. Remus sighed. “We do have stools, you know.”
“But the floor’s nice,” Sirius said, sticking the toothbrush into his mouth. Remus bit back a smile as he kneeled and began to brush off the knots and part Sirius’ hair. He would give him a pair of simple French braids – to keep his hair off his face, to get to enjoy the sight of a curly-haired Sirius in the morning when he’d take them off. He’d done it many times before, usually when they were watching television and Sirius sat in front of the couch at his feet. They both liked it, it was calming, and even now Sirius was smiling as he recognised the way Remus’ fingers worked through his locks.
“Did I ever tell you your eyes are so pretty?” Sirius slurred. Remus snorted.
“You’re not even seeing my eyes right now.”
“They’re so pretty. Did I tell you?”
“Yes, you tell me every time you drink.”
“Sooo pretty.” Light blue foam was spilling from Sirius’ mouth as he talked. Remus reached for a piece of toilet paper and wiped it away before it streamed down his chin and on his shirt. “You’re so pretty.”
“Shush.” Remus’ cheeks were getting hot. He’d never learned how to take compliments, even from Sirius, who’d always made sure a day didn’t go by without him praising at least a few of his qualities. “You’re so wasted. Don’t choke on the toothpaste this time.”
“You’re taking such good care of me,” Sirius beamed.
“I know. And you’re putting me in a nursing home.” Remus finished the first braid. “Less talking, more brushing, now.”
“I’m done brushing.”
“Sure?”
“Mm.”
“Okay, but I’m not ready yet, so come back here then.” Sirius pushed himself up and with half of his hair tied, half flying free, he doubled over the sink to spit out the foam and rinsed his toothbrush, soon returning back to Remus. The second braid was much faster and easier to do as Sirius didn’t constantly move his head between speaking and brushing – in fact, he was so still Remus nearly suspected he’d dozed off then and there. A couple of minutes later the hair was all done, and Remus dropped a soft kiss on the nape of Sirius’ neck before getting on his feet.
“All done,” he said, and Sirius came back to life, bouncing on his feet and raising his hands to feel his hair. Seemingly satisfied, Sirius turned to Remus and together they left the room, walking back across the living room to get to their bedroom on the other side of the apartment. Remus noted the mess they’d left behind, the cons of not giving a shit in the moment, and his mood sank a little, thinking about having to face all of that the first thing in the morning.
Their bedroom was tiny. Most of it was taken by their bed, which Remus didn’t really mind, although it meant there wasn’t much space for a closet big enough for both of their clothes and they’d had to stuff a lot of their belongings in boxes under the bed. He hated having to crouch every time he wanted clean socks or underwear. He did have an old man’s sore bones, after all. Bones, muscles, and joints. Old man’s body.
Still, he was forever grateful for their big bed. Sirius launched for it as soon as they opened the door, landing in the middle, pulling the comforter over his whole body. Both of them were quite restless sleepers from time to time, and having space to toss and turn as they liked without accidentally knocking the other in the face had surely saved them from a lot of grumpy mornings.
Remus walked up to the bed and pulled the comforter aside. Sirius, already curled around a pillow, opened his eyes and cast a disapproving look.
“You’re wearing jeans,” Remus said. “Take them off.”
Sirius’ eyes sparkled again. “Am I about to get laid?”
Remus rolled his eyes, smiling. “Nobody’s gonna get laid tonight. You just won’t want to sleep in your jeans. You’ll feel much more comfortable.”
After a minor struggle, as Sirius had refused to stand up again to complete the task, the jeans were thrown into the ever-growing pile of laundry next to the door and Sirius had made his way back under the covers.
“Everything’s spinning,” he mumbled against the pillow, and Remus was quite impressed with himself on how he’d so accurately managed to predict how much longer Sirius would last in his state, getting him in bed on time. He kneeled beside the bed and leaned in to kiss Sirius.
“Sleep,” Remus whispered, got on his feet and headed towards the door.
“Where you going?” Sirius was barely able to keep his eyes open.
“Just to brush my own teeth,” Remus said, switching off the light and leaving Sirius in the dark. “Be back in a moment.”
Remus’ body felt heavy by the time he was making his way back to Sirius. He stopped in the middle of the living room, looking around, debating between two voices in his head, one that was begging for rest and one that was telling him to do what he knew future Remus would be grateful for.
Pushing his exhaustion aside for one more moment, Remus went around the room, picking up the fallen pillows and empty cans and bottles. He straightened the rugs so Sirius wouldn’t trip on them on his more-than-likely visit to the loo in a few hours. He grabbed the empty glass Sirius had drunk water from and filled it again, taking it to the bedroom alongside with some paracetamol.
Sirius was already fast asleep when Remus tiptoed next to him and set the water and the painkiller package on his nightstand. He kissed Sirius’ forehead, mouthing “good night, sweetheart” against his skin, before going around the bed and finally, granting his place under the covers, feeling pleasantly cool and ready to fall asleep in the next minute.
He sunk into the mattress, listening to Sirius’ breathing. They would be in no hurry in the morning; there wouldn’t be an alarm to force them up – at most a delivery driver ringing their doorbell after they’d order a big hangover breakfast and eat it in bed. There’d be a clean living room and curly-haired Sirius.
Seconds from drifting off, Remus felt a warm hand searching his own, Sirius making sure of his presence in his sleep. Remus touched him, giving him the reassurement he’d seeked. He smiled, at least he thought he did, though he might’ve been too tired to actually move his face.
Lucky. Happy.