Archive of Our Own ^beta

Remus wakes slow and golden, like honey, melting into a long, deep stretch. The blankets are around his legs, twisted and damp, and his head feels heavy, leaden, padded with wool.

There's a warmth behind him, the hard, solid weight of a body. The sunlight stings his eyes as they flutter open, but once they focus, once the bright white spots bleed into color, he sees a strong, tanned arm draped across his waist, fingers splayed protectively across his belly.

The hint of Firewhisky leftover on his tongue makes him afraid to turn and look. It can't be, it can't have happened, and if it did, he fears it was fueled by alcohol rather than desire.

His memory is bleary, fogged. He conjures a picture of the Leaky Cauldron, smoky and full, thinks he remembers Peter singing and an enthusiastic toast to James' engagement. He might also remember Sirius, mussed black hair and laughing grey eyes, dancing in a way that was positively indecent.

He wants to remember sloppy, Firewhisky kisses and the sharp bite of a doorjamb between his shoulderblades as Sirius pressed against him in the Cauldron's bog. He wants to remembers Sirius' hands on his body, Sirius' lips liquid and slow against his neck.

Remus shifts, turns, finds himself face to face with Sirius, who is awake, watching. Sirius' hand is now on Remus' hip, his fingers fidgeting against Remus skin. Silence descends, wedging into the sliver of space between them, and Remus closes his eyes, unable to breathe.

"Remus."

There are no words, Remus thinks. What he wanted, what he had, what he might be about to lose, weighs on his tongue, pinning fast inside his mouth.

Sirius' lips press against his, warm and dry, and Sirius tongue flicks out, stale with Firewhisky and sleep. Remus, stunned, floundering, allows it, gasping when he Sirius' pulls him closer.

"Moony."

That's what forces his eyes open, not Sirius' cock pressing against his hip, or Sirius' hand sliding over the curve of his arse, but Moony. He was Moony on the map, Moony when James needed an alibi or Peter's homework was a few inches short, but he was only Moony in passing -- is only Moony in passing, to Sirius. Remus likes that, loves that, and he's always held it close.

"Moony, I'm sorry," Sirius says quietly. "I shouldn't have brought you back here." He's close, too close, his lips brushing Remus' forehead. "I wanted... wanted you so badly."

"You..." Remus' eyes widen. "You wanted--"

"I shouldn't have," Sirius says. "You were drunk. I just couldn't--" He pauses, his eyes sliding closed. "You're angry."

"No," Remus says. "I'm not angry."

Sirius' eyes snap open. "No?"

"No," Remus replies. "I wanted... I didn't think..."

"Oh," Sirius says. "Oh."

Sirius kisses him again, with a soft press of lips and a slow slide of tongue, and this time, this time, Remus kisses him back.