though you're the nearest to my heart

[chasestails]

Sirius is having a dog dream. It's not exactly a rare occurrence, but it's always strange waking up from these dreams in his regular body, halfway between a boy and a man, all long limbs and sharp edges. The shaggy hair is a constant, though, and so the first thing Sirius does upon waking up, half-hanging off the sofa in Remus's living room, is to

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[themoonsbitch]

There are brief snippets of last night forming in the back of his head, and he has the good sense to ignore every single one of them. Merlin, he's tired, and ever space inch of his body is screaming in protest as he tests out a stretch. Immediately he realises that no, that was a terrible idea and he clearly should have stayed curled up against what he imagines is a deer carcass.

That last thought forces his eyes open, and the light fading in through the window is far too bright and it warrants of his own, even before Sirius has drawled out his name.

Alcohol is a bad idea. Alcohol is always a bad idea. Drinking alcohol on his 'furry night' is terrible idea. He's certain that Sirius came up with it, and if he didn't, he's going to blame him for allowing him to drink before changing. He should be more responsible, and the headache that's lurking just behind the pain of everything else is a constant reminder of that fact.

Remus is in a reasonably bad mood. He is also naked. He mumbles something intangible, his mind jumbled and always so basic and animal after his time of the month with every sense soaring. He can smell Sirius, knows he's just a few inches away, knows that he's there without needing to look. The sound of him breathing is loud and his heartbeat is even louder.

"Sirius," he mumbles, his voice almost completely gone. Strange how his vocal chords are so sore and tired the morning after. Must have been all of that howling.

Oh. The naked thing. He should fix that. Just five more minutes.

[chasestails]

If Sirius had known he was being compared to a deer carcass, he most certainly would have taken offense. But as it is, he's no Legilimens, so he remains blissfully unaware. However, as he filters through the fog that's settled over his brain, he realizes that Remus is quite nearby, and it's confirmed when he returns Sirius's query with his own name. Oh. He vaguely remembers passing out near Remus's furry wolf-body last night. He must have turned human again in his sleep.

Clearing his throat with little success, Sirius finally opens both his eyes, only to be greeted by the sight of a very natural Remus Lupin in all his glory. He tosses a bare arm over his face, shielding his eyes. Melodramatic even in his most vulnerable moments.

"Christ, Remus, you need to start wearing clothes after you've turned all furry. For decency's sake!" It would be a much more effective snipe if his mouth didn't feel as if it were coated in cotton balls. As if he's ever cared a lick about decency. As if he and James didn't used to gallivant about nude in the summertime just for the hell of it. But it's easier to be stupid and make jokes than act like it doesn't really bother him. Which it doesn't really.

[themoonsbitch]

"Bugger decency," he grumbles loudly, pushing himself to hazard a glance around the room. It is, of course, in complete and utter disarray, with shredded pillows and a - well, Sirius, which good be either a good thing or a bad thing. He seems to be in the exact same state Remus is in, if only a little more over dramatic (which, he reminds himself, is nothing new).

After several years of dealing with his little furry problem, Remus has come to accept that occasionally, decency takes a back seat, and sometimes, it's all right to wake up naked in your living room with your non-paying flatmate snoozing upon your left leg. These things happen. Fairly often to Remus. But that's neither here nor there.

He'll need to remember that spell - the one that cleans everything up in a blink of an eye. No, no. Trousers first, spells later. He blindly reaches out to grab for scattered items of clothing, eventually finding his shirt (which he lays over his lap until a better option finds makes itself known).

"How much did we drink last night? And for the record, I'm blaming you entirely."

[chasestails]

"Nnngh." This is the only reply Sirius can muster at the moment. He's dying. Any moment now he'll breathe his last and that will be that. Remus will be left alone and naked with his incredibly handsome corpse. But then the moment passes and he realizes with a strange sinking feeling that he's not going to die. He has to live through this terrible hangover. Excellent.

Eyes still closed, he listens to the sound of Remus rooting around for clothes. At the question, he remembers the bottle near his foot. He nudges it with one toe until it falls over the edge of the couch, opening an eye to look at it. Scotch.

"That, for starters," he groans. He knows that wasn't it; he remembers there being beer. Possibly vodka, judging by the stinging in his sinuses. "Though I don't recall you exactly protesting last night." If Remus were to look, he would see the very wolfish smile crossing Sirius's features right now.

[themoonsbitch]

"I used to be such a sweet and innocent wereboy," he says languidly, stretching over Sirius to pick up his underwear. Apparently, leaving them sprawled over the TV was a wonderful idea at the time. Yeah, he's going to blame Sirius for that one, too. In fact, last night was entirely Sirius' fault. He has been swayed onto a path of evil and temptations, and it is in no way his own fault. No, he's far too responsible and incredibly -

Oh, bugger it all, he's turning into Sirius. The thought seems to weigh on his chest as he peers over at that grin. He's never felt the need to be surrounded by books more than in that very moment. Still, he smiles fondly, slowly working his way into being fully clothed. He feels that that is a massive improvement over the situation already.

"I was definitely protesting," he returns pointedly, "I remember throwing up. That is my body's way of saying 'ditch Sirius Black, he's going to poison you with alcohol'. I've never been one for prophecies, but I think this one might ring true."

[chasestails]

"Yes, well, that's what happens when you hang around with wankers like me and James," Sirius replies good-naturedly, pressing a hand to his forehead. His head's begun to throb with a faint metallic sound that he can't quite place rushing in his ears.

He grunts dismissively at Remus's pointed reply. "Hmmph. Throwing up is throwing up. Really, it was your body's way of saying it was ready for more. Making room, and all that." He sighs, huffily. "Besides, I would never poison you." He chuckles, weakly. "Show you a good time, maybe..."

Some people just couldn't see when a favor was being done for them, clearly. "Right, got your pants on?"