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December 27, 1978
Remus lay in bed, wide awake for a very, very long time. The sun had been up for a few hours now. He wasn’t quite sure what time it was exactly. The events from the party last night played back over and over.
He stuffed his pillow over his face.
“Bloody hell.”
Remus finally wandered into the living room around 10 a.m.
“Morning, Moony!”
He made a panicked noise in the back of his throat and wondered if it was too late to make a quite retreat back to the safety of his bedroom.
“I made you breakfast!”
Then again, French toast was always worth any awkward situations.
Sirius flit about in the kitchen. ‘Anarchy in the UK’ started whistling, and soon the tea was made.
Remus sat in his usual spot. Sirius sat down opposite him.
Breakfast was eaten through a thick fog of awkwardness.
They took their second cups of tea out into the living room.
“Erm, so, uh—”
“You know, for all your reading, ‘Outstanding’s, and overall geniusness, it’s always a riot when you can’t string a proper sentence together.”
‘Merlin’s beard, how are you so nonchalant about all of this!’ is what Remus wanted to say, or rather shout. At the top of his lungs. Possibly with a sonerous spell to accompany it.
Instead, he made a very intelligent, “Oh?” He quickly set about trying to think of something a) more intelligent, and b) broach the incredibly awkward subject of what happened last night.
“Look, Pads, I—”
“I went to see Sarah this morning.” Sirius interrupted him, sprawled out on his chair.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I overheard some of the ladies discussing something about sending out more cards to thank people for their gifts. I asked them if this was a muggle tradition, to which they said yes.”
“Did you kiss all of them to thank them, too?”
Sirius grinned, but a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Of course! Did you see how many berries I had to get rid of?”
With the topic of kissing broached, it got awkward again.
Sirius cleared his throat. “So, I went to Sarah, for advice and such, and she said sending out Thank You cards is a thing, not a very popular thing anymore, but it’s still a thing. Naturally I bought enough cards for the both of us to fill out.”
Remus knocked back his tea.
“Brilliant! Let me go get dressed.” He ran out of the room, with Sirius’s “You don’t have to be dressed to write cards, you posh wanker” following after him.
10:39 a.m.
After spending far too much time getting dressed and fussing over his general appearance (his scars looked particularly horrific this morning), he finally returned to the living room.
A large, steaming mug of Lily’s special hot chocolate sat on the coffee table, waiting for him, along with his new pen set and a small stack of hand made cards.
Sirius fidgeted in his chair, unsure of whether to stand, stay sitting, or break out into interpretive dance to ease the tension.
“We should get started on these.” Remus dove headlong into his super very important work, hiding behind his hot chocolate.
Sirius shook his head.
10:40 a.m.
“Shouldn’t you be using a book or a hard surface to write? Your handwriting is barely legible as it is?”
“We could share the coffee table. If that’s all right,” Sirius added quickly. It would seem that the confidence he’d had first thing this morning had faded a little. “I mean, there’s always the kitchen, but the lighting it much better in here.”
“Oh—er—yeah, yeah, no problem, I’ll just move over a bit.” Remus carefully cleared half of the table.
“Ta, Moony.”
For a few minutes, there was only the light scratches of pens on paper to break the silence.
“How’s this: Dear Evans, I’m amazed you bought me anything. Love Black.”
“That’s perfect, Pads.”
And just like that, some of the awkward tension was broken.
“How about this: Dear Prongs, I’ve never really been interested in subscriptions to those particular magazines, but I wholeheartedly appreciate the effort. The chocolate was spot on, and much appreciated, though! Love Moony.”
“Brilliant! What magazine did he get you?”
“Some sort of muggle science magazine, and a quidditch one I think?”
“Do I have to send a card to thank my mother for the hex she sent me?”
“She sent you a hex?”
“Yes, a rather badly disguised one at that. Her game is slipping. Oh, I should tell her that. Ta Moony.”
“Any time!”
“Can we drop these off in person? I am done with stamps.”
“Of course! I was hoping you’d say something like that.”
“Brilliant. How’s this: Dear Wormtail, Snuffles greatly appreciated the tube of tennis balls, teddy bear, and pig’s ear. Moony was less than pleased with the amount of stuffing the teddy bear produced. Love Padfoot.”
“Dear Mad-Eye Moody, Thank you for the hand written instructional booklet on how to spot a pilfering pixie. I’m sure it will come in useful some day. Regards, Moony.”
“Dear Remus, thank you for everything, and then some. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. Love always, Sirius.”
“Dear Sirius, you spent far too much money on me, as usual, but thank you from the very bottom of my little werewolf heart. You didn’t make me any more uncomfortable than usual with your PDA. If you wish to blame it on the eggnog, I won’t blame you in the least. Love Remus.”
“Dear Remus, I had a sip of eggnog and nearly vomited (the Eggnog Incident of 1978 will haunt me for years to come). I refuse to blame any of that on alcohol (although I did have two small glasses of scotch, Evans gave them to me to prevent me from kissing her, it didn’t work well though). I was just as serious as usual. Love Sirius.”
“Dear Sirius, 99 percent of werewolves have extremely fragile hearts (I made up that statistic, but it sounds believable, right?), and don’t react well to being pulled along for fun, or a fling, or a fun fling. Love Remus.”
“Dear Remus, put the pen down, I’m being Sirius. Serious. Shut up you know what I mean.”
Remus laughed nervously as he slowly put his pen down. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and it had nothing to do with the copious amount of delicious hot chocolate that he’d consumed.
Sirius leaned back against the arm of the sofa, twirling his pen.
“So,” he said, drawling it out a lot longer than necessary. “Lovely party last night, eh?”
“Brilliant, the food was excellent, and it was nice to see everyone.”
“Moony.”
“Sirius, what exactly do you want me to say?” Remus sighed. “‘Sorry I was a shite kisser; I haven’t had quite as much practice as you have’?”
“Sod off, you were brilliant. I’m the one with the shoddy kissing history. I don’t know if you recall, but no one really caught my fancy back at school, well, not obviously anyway.”
“Really? I would have thought at least some of the ridiculous rumours were true.”
“I have liked one person since first year, seriously liked that same person since fourth year, and realized I can’t actually function without that person since sixth year.”
Remus felt his throat close up a bit. “And who exactly is this person?”
“… Are you actually going to make me say it?” Sirius’s aristocratic cheekbones were turning a bit pink.
“Yes,” Remus said quietly.
“He’s a strange man, a werewolf actually. With loads of beautiful scars that prove how bloody tough he is, these wicked eyes that remind me of unpolished gold (because only the posh ones polish their gold), and hair that’s really soft, like, unnaturally soft. I use any excuse I can to touch it. He’s one of the most brilliant men I’ve ever met, and my best friend.”
Remus cleared his throat several times to restart his vocal cords. “Well, I’m not sure Lily’s too keen on sharing Prongs, but I’m sure she’d come around eventually.”
Sirius barked out a nervous laugh, shifting around in his seat.
“Is—is this okay?” he asked, gesturing to himself.
“Yeah, it is. I mean, I’m kind of jealous, but I’m sure you three will be quite happy with each other.”
“Moony… Remus...”
“Yes, Sirius?”
“I fancy you,” he mumbled, half hiding his face in the same pillow he’d used as a handkerchief a few days earlier. “I really, really fancy you, you stupid git.”
Butterflies emerged from their cocoons and fluttered about in bizarre patterns around Remus’s stomach.
“Okay.”
“Just okay? You make me confess my deepest, darkest secret that James doesn’t even know all of, and all I get is an ‘okay’? I demand a full sentence.”
Remus smiled, ignoring the stinging of tears that assaulted his eyes. He must have scalded his tongue on the hot chocolate.
“Alright! I fancy you too, a little. I’m lying, a lot. A lot, a lot.”
Sirius, pink faced and grinning, with eyes shining quite like Remus’s, set his pillow aside.
“Can I hold your hand?”
Remus raised an eyebrow, then nodded, holding out his left hand.
Sirius slipped his hand into Remus’s larger one, lacing their fingers.
Heartbeats were skipped, stomachs leapt, throats tightened, tears were held at bay.
Sirius’s hand was rougher than he expected.
“We are never going to finish all these notes, are we?” Remus laughed. He couldn’t stop staring at their hands. There was no way this was actually happening, this had to be a dream. He hoped he never had to wake up from it.
“No worries, Moony, I’ve got this!” Sirius started writing his card with his left hand.
“Padfoot, you’re right handed!”
“Well, my handwriting is shite to begin with, so this really isn’t going to make any difference.”
“That is very true. So! Which one of us should be writing to the Potters to thank them for that mistletoe?”