Bonus Fic: Christmas Crackers for Marc_Duork, PG-13
Title: Christmas Crackers
Author/Artist: mindabbles
Recipient: marc_duork
Rating:PG-13, or maybe a very light R in places
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *Just some silliness*
Word count:2,200
Summary:Anything worth having is worth waiting for.
Notes: Marc_duork, thank you SO much for doing a pinch hit. I hope you enjoy this little bit of thank you fluff. I went back to your sign up last year and took the likes of secret relationship, references to the 70s, and This lovely stock image.
“When will your Mum be home?” Sirius asks.
His breath is warm against Remus’ neck. Remus sighs and bites his lip. “I hope she won’t,” says Remus. He doesn’t mean that. He loves his mum, but the house smells like mincemeat pies and the lights from the tree give a soft glow and Eric Clapton is singing softly from his mum’s radio confirming that, yes, Sirius does look wonderful tonight. He always looks wonderful, so that’s nothing new. He’s not always in Remus’ arms, looking like he’d like to spend the rest of the day, or possibly their lives, kissing Remus.
Remus backs Sirius up against the kitchen counter. He leans into him, pressing his lips to Sirius’. Sirius is so eager, parting his lips and tasting Remus’ mouth. He’s been like this since the first time they kissed at half-term - any moment they have alone, attacking Remus like he’s desperate for something more than the kissing and touching they’ve done so far. Remus isn’t certain yet what that ‘more’ will be, but he’d very much like if they could get enough time alone to find out. Sirius pulls back from the kiss, slowly, his eyes are closed, his dark lashes inky against his pale skin. God, Remus wants him.
“Moony,” whispers Sirius. He lips are by Remus’ ear, touching the shell and making Remus shiver. “Can we - ” His lips are on Remus’ again, warm and soft and perfect. Remus traces Sirius’ lips with the tip of his tongue and presses harder against Sirius’ body when Sirius’ hands roam over his back and down to his arse.
A stomping of feet outside rockets them apart from each other and Remus scrubs his hands through his hair. Sirius’ cheeks are flushed and he lets out a long, slow breath as if he’s sprung a leak.
“Bugger,’ he mutters.
“Indeed,” agrees Remus as his mum flings open the door. She’s loaded down with packages and Remus moves to help her, grateful for a distraction that’s certain to wilt his erection rather quickly.
“Hello, Mrs Lupin,” says Sirius, flashing her the smile the makes everyone, maybe especially Remus, fall in love with him. Sirius takes the heavy shopping bag from Remus and deposits it on the counter just where Remus had him pressed moments ago.
“Hello, Sirius,” she says. She smiles warmly at him and Remus is taken by surprise at the warm, tingly feeling his mother’s kind greeting to Sirius brings him. ‘What have you lads been up to?”
“Nothing,” says Remus at the same time as Sirius says, for some odd reason, “Baking.”
She gives them an odd look and says, “All right,” slowly.
“I’ve checked with Mrs Potter, and it’s fine, of course,” Mum says. She turns and smiles at Sirius. “Remus’ father and I have to go and see his sister on Boxing Day. She’s not been well. Are you staying to dinner, dear?”
“Mum, I can stay on my own,” says Remus. It had occurred to him that, if he stayed at home while his parents were gone for three days, he and Sirius might finally have a bit of time to themselves. If he stays with James, then yes, Sirius will be there, but so will James and Peter, and Lily most of the time, not to mention the watchful eye of Mrs Potter, who will be reporting back to Mum.
She just gives him a withering look and starts to brush the dirt off potatoes with a ferocity that makes Remus feel for the potatoes.
“You two put the rest of the packages by the tree for later,” she says, ignoring his point as easily as she ignored his requests for more sweets when he was a child. “I’ve got the crackers for Christmas dinner. A nautical theme this year. You used to love playing with your toy boats, darling.”
“Mum,” Remus groans as Sirius stifles a laugh.
*
“You off with the faeries?”
“What?” Remus turns to look at Lily, turns his gaze away from Sirius who’s stood by the fireplace, laughing with James and Peter. “What?” He asks again as she looks at him as if she thinks his brains have been replaced with flobberworms.
“I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and whatever’s on the end of Black’s nose is clearly more interesting,” she says. Her tone is teasing and her expression is expectant, as if she thinks he’s about to tell her a secret.
Part of him wants to tell her. She takes everything in stride and being in love with James can’t be much easier than being in love with Sirius, so they’d likely have something to talk about. Part of him wants to tell her, but the rest of him doesn’t want anyone to know. He doesn’t want people to have one more reason to hate him. He doesn’t want anyone to look at Sirius and look at him and be baffled because Sirius could have anyone.
“Just. Nothing,” he says. “Sorry - what were you saying?”
She huffs at him and leans in, she lowers her voice, and says, “Professor Dumbledore asked me to speak to you. There’s an organisation forming and we’re all needed.”
“All right,” he says, his heart suddenly pounding. “Of course. Anything he needs.”
“Good. You’re to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron on Saturday. Don’t tell anyone yet.”
“Even - ” Remus begins.
“Yes,” She says, nodding in the direction of the corner where James, Sirius, and Peter are talking and laughing. “No one knows until Dumbledore’s talked with them - his rules. Surely you can manage to keep something from them for a few days. And yes, even Sirius.”
She gives him a look that makes him squirm. It doesn't help that Sirius chooses that moment to look up and smile at him and it’s that moment that a high-pitched voice on the wireless croons And you come to me on a summer breeze.
“Yes, I think you can manage to keep a secret, Remus,” she says. “I think you specialise in it.” There’s no recrimination in her voice, just a little sadness. It’s easy to imagine telling her right now, but then Sirius comes over and asks him if he wants to step outside to have a smoke, and he realises again that he wants this to himself for a little longer.
He follows Sirius outside into the cold night air, with his pulse beginning to race and the crooner asking How deep is your love in the background.
Sirius grabs his hand and Remus has the distinct impression that he’s about to be shoved against a cold stone wall, and he can’t think of anything better.
Sirius looks at him for a second and Remus readies himself for the kiss of his life. Instead, Sirius stops and mutters, “Fuck.” Remus blinks in confusion until he hears Peter call out, “Oi, you having a fag? I want one.”
*
Remus pulls his cloak up around his ears as he steps out of the warm, close air of the Three Broomsticks onto the street. It’s just starting to snow. Big, fluffy snowflakes alight on his eyelashes and melt on his cheeks. Faerie lights twinkle and candles flicker outside every shop and holiday music filters out of windows. Smells of cider and roasting chestnuts fill the air. The relentless holiday cheer is at such odds with the serious conversation he’s just had that he almost feels dizzy.
Dark wizards, the end of life as they know it, a secret organization, prejudice and violence. Not exactly what he thought he might be doing when he finishes at school in a few short months.
And then there’s the gnawing feeling of guilt that Remus is, somewhere in the middle of his chest, excited to be a part of the resistance.
“Moony!”
Remus turns to find Lily and James walking hand-in-hand down the street. They look like a Christmas card, James tall and casually handsome, Lily stunningly beautiful with snowflakes catching on her red hair.
“Well?” James asks. “What did you tell him?”
Remus looks between Lily and James for a moment - not anxious to disobey her severe warnings about secrecy.
“He’s talked to him now. We’re all read in,” Lily says, nodding in approval. “Sirius too,” she says with a smile that Remus decides he doesn’t have to describe as ‘knowing’ if he doesn’t want to. It’s his own internal dialogue after all.
“Oh,” says Remus. He pulls a face at James. “What do you think I told him, Prongs?”
James claps him on the shoulder and grins. “I think you told him he could count on you as soon as you ace your Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.”
“I didn’t put it exactly that way, but you’ve got the general idea.”
James slings his arm around Lily’s shoulder and then does the same to Remus, drawing them both to him. “Just think of the adventure. We’ll be brilliant. Save the day and all that.”
Remus knows James well enough to hear how his bravado covers up how serious he knows what’s coming is. He feels a wave of affection for his brave, if slightly mad, friend.
“And you should see Sirius’ plan for chasing off after the foe,” says Lily. She cranes her neck to look past James at Remus.
Remus raises his eyebrows and is about to ask, against his better judgment, when James chimes in with, “The bastard bought himself a bloody motorbike. He thinks he’s going to charm it to fly.”
Remus is struck by a vision of Sirius sitting astride a big, powerful motorbike, wearing his favorite leather jacket - the one he bought to finish the job on his mother’s last nerve. His hair would blow back from his forehead gracefully as he sped through the streets, and Remus could sit on behind him, arms around his waist, and chest pressed to Sirius’ strong back.
Remus coughs and pinches his thigh. “Uh, yeah. Sounds like Sirius. Where, um, is he, by the way?”
Lily gives him another look.
“Right, I was supposed to tell you,” says James. “He said something about going over to yours. That was ages ago. Dunno if he’s still there.”
“Oh, well. Good. I mean, that’s good because my Mum’s away today and someone should let the dog - that is, my mum’s dog - out. Maybe he has. I should go and check.”
He turns to go before he can see Lily’s and James’ expressions. He reckons he can get on quite well without those images in his head. He’d rather hold on to the one of Sirius on the motorbike.
*
There’s a light on in Remus’ front room. He didn’t leave it and his mum has never left a room and left a light burning in her life. He pushes open the front door and walks down the hallway, trying to suppress the feeling that someone’s going to jump out at him.
He passes the kitchen and no one jumps out. There’s no noise and no smells of a romantic dinner. His stomach sinks with disappointment. He was away too long and Sirius gave up. He decides he may as well have a bit of his dad’s brandy and gets a cup and heads to the front room, where his dad keeps it in a cabinet.
The sight in the living room stops him in his tracks. He nearly drops the cup and he runs through an array of emotions in seconds - surprise, amusement, nervousness, and embarrassingly, arousal.
Sirius is sprawled out under the tree. He’s asleep, or passed out, more accurately. He is dressed in red trousers with a white ruff of fur around the ankles, his tee-shirt, and black braces holding up the trousers. He has a very festive crown from a Christmas cracker on his head and is clutching a toy boat that must have been in the cracker. It’s making a valiant effort to escape his grip, fluttering its sails and thrashing it’s rudder back and forth.
This is not exactly the vision Remus has in his head when he thinks about Sirius late at night - a far cry from the windblown bloke on the motorbike that would now be his go-to.
Sirius gives a soft little snore and curls onto his side. Remus has to stifle a laugh. Sirius would probably rather die than let most people see him like this. His laughter dies in his throat, replaced by a glowing warmth that Sirius is obviously willing to let Remus see him like this. He lies down on the floor, under the tree, next to Sirius.
“You smell like a distillery,” he whispers into Sirius’ hair.
“Mm,” murmurs Sirius. He turns his body to Remus and seems to be trying to burrow into him. Sirius’ nose lands in the crook of Remus’ neck. “You like boats.”
He’s so warm and he presses against Remus, chest-to-chest. Remus slides his leg in between Sirius’. His heart is racing and his stomach fluttering. He stops himself from saying something ridiculous like, Are we alone at last?. He reckons that being a queer, teenage werewolf from a family with no position, who’s in love with one of his best friends, who happens to be a disowned, former heir to an ancient pureblood family who’s just bought a motorbike is rather melodramatic enough.
“Are we alone at last,” hums Sirius, against his neck. Sirius never did worry about being melodramatic.
Remus runs his hand over Sirius’ hip, encouraging him to wrap his leg around Remus. “Looks like it,” says Remus. He’s so turned on, he’s shaking, He can’t believe that this could finally be it, they’re chance to do more than kiss.
“Someone’ll barge in. Just you wait Moony,” Sirius says, huffing loudly and tickling Remus’ neck.
“No they won’t,” Remus says, willing it to be true. He presses his lips to Sirius’ jaw and Sirius moves so their lips connect. The kiss is slow and sloppy and Remus is about to fall into it and forget everything else when he realises that it’s a little too slow, and a little too sloppy.
Remus pulls back so he can look at Sirius. His eyes are drooping and Remus finally notices his dad’s bottle of brandy, empty, lying behind him. Sirius follows his gaze sleepily, “S’for courage,” he mumbles.
“A bit too much courage, apparently,” Remus answers. Sirius flops against him again, his nose landing in Remus’ eye. “If - when - we do this, I want you to remember it,” says Remus. He pulls Sirius’ head onto his chest and summons the blanket from the back of the sofa.
Sirius looks as if he’s about to object, but then he nuzzles Remus a bit and mutters, “Yer comfy, Moony.” Less than a second later, he snores.
Tomorrow is another day, Remus thinks. His dad always said that anything worth having is worth waiting for. Remus is fairly certain he didn’t have this situation in mind, but it fits. Remus wraps his arms tighter around Sirius, lets himself sink into the warmth of the blanket and Sirius, and the comforting glow of the Christmas tree, and closes his eyes.
Author/Artist: mindabbles
Recipient: marc_duork
Rating:PG-13, or maybe a very light R in places
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *Just some silliness*
Word count:2,200
Summary:Anything worth having is worth waiting for.
Notes: Marc_duork, thank you SO much for doing a pinch hit. I hope you enjoy this little bit of thank you fluff. I went back to your sign up last year and took the likes of secret relationship, references to the 70s, and This lovely stock image.
“When will your Mum be home?” Sirius asks.
His breath is warm against Remus’ neck. Remus sighs and bites his lip. “I hope she won’t,” says Remus. He doesn’t mean that. He loves his mum, but the house smells like mincemeat pies and the lights from the tree give a soft glow and Eric Clapton is singing softly from his mum’s radio confirming that, yes, Sirius does look wonderful tonight. He always looks wonderful, so that’s nothing new. He’s not always in Remus’ arms, looking like he’d like to spend the rest of the day, or possibly their lives, kissing Remus.
Remus backs Sirius up against the kitchen counter. He leans into him, pressing his lips to Sirius’. Sirius is so eager, parting his lips and tasting Remus’ mouth. He’s been like this since the first time they kissed at half-term - any moment they have alone, attacking Remus like he’s desperate for something more than the kissing and touching they’ve done so far. Remus isn’t certain yet what that ‘more’ will be, but he’d very much like if they could get enough time alone to find out. Sirius pulls back from the kiss, slowly, his eyes are closed, his dark lashes inky against his pale skin. God, Remus wants him.
“Moony,” whispers Sirius. He lips are by Remus’ ear, touching the shell and making Remus shiver. “Can we - ” His lips are on Remus’ again, warm and soft and perfect. Remus traces Sirius’ lips with the tip of his tongue and presses harder against Sirius’ body when Sirius’ hands roam over his back and down to his arse.
A stomping of feet outside rockets them apart from each other and Remus scrubs his hands through his hair. Sirius’ cheeks are flushed and he lets out a long, slow breath as if he’s sprung a leak.
“Bugger,’ he mutters.
“Indeed,” agrees Remus as his mum flings open the door. She’s loaded down with packages and Remus moves to help her, grateful for a distraction that’s certain to wilt his erection rather quickly.
“Hello, Mrs Lupin,” says Sirius, flashing her the smile the makes everyone, maybe especially Remus, fall in love with him. Sirius takes the heavy shopping bag from Remus and deposits it on the counter just where Remus had him pressed moments ago.
“Hello, Sirius,” she says. She smiles warmly at him and Remus is taken by surprise at the warm, tingly feeling his mother’s kind greeting to Sirius brings him. ‘What have you lads been up to?”
“Nothing,” says Remus at the same time as Sirius says, for some odd reason, “Baking.”
She gives them an odd look and says, “All right,” slowly.
“I’ve checked with Mrs Potter, and it’s fine, of course,” Mum says. She turns and smiles at Sirius. “Remus’ father and I have to go and see his sister on Boxing Day. She’s not been well. Are you staying to dinner, dear?”
“Mum, I can stay on my own,” says Remus. It had occurred to him that, if he stayed at home while his parents were gone for three days, he and Sirius might finally have a bit of time to themselves. If he stays with James, then yes, Sirius will be there, but so will James and Peter, and Lily most of the time, not to mention the watchful eye of Mrs Potter, who will be reporting back to Mum.
She just gives him a withering look and starts to brush the dirt off potatoes with a ferocity that makes Remus feel for the potatoes.
“You two put the rest of the packages by the tree for later,” she says, ignoring his point as easily as she ignored his requests for more sweets when he was a child. “I’ve got the crackers for Christmas dinner. A nautical theme this year. You used to love playing with your toy boats, darling.”
“Mum,” Remus groans as Sirius stifles a laugh.
*
“You off with the faeries?”
“What?” Remus turns to look at Lily, turns his gaze away from Sirius who’s stood by the fireplace, laughing with James and Peter. “What?” He asks again as she looks at him as if she thinks his brains have been replaced with flobberworms.
“I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and whatever’s on the end of Black’s nose is clearly more interesting,” she says. Her tone is teasing and her expression is expectant, as if she thinks he’s about to tell her a secret.
Part of him wants to tell her. She takes everything in stride and being in love with James can’t be much easier than being in love with Sirius, so they’d likely have something to talk about. Part of him wants to tell her, but the rest of him doesn’t want anyone to know. He doesn’t want people to have one more reason to hate him. He doesn’t want anyone to look at Sirius and look at him and be baffled because Sirius could have anyone.
“Just. Nothing,” he says. “Sorry - what were you saying?”
She huffs at him and leans in, she lowers her voice, and says, “Professor Dumbledore asked me to speak to you. There’s an organisation forming and we’re all needed.”
“All right,” he says, his heart suddenly pounding. “Of course. Anything he needs.”
“Good. You’re to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron on Saturday. Don’t tell anyone yet.”
“Even - ” Remus begins.
“Yes,” She says, nodding in the direction of the corner where James, Sirius, and Peter are talking and laughing. “No one knows until Dumbledore’s talked with them - his rules. Surely you can manage to keep something from them for a few days. And yes, even Sirius.”
She gives him a look that makes him squirm. It doesn't help that Sirius chooses that moment to look up and smile at him and it’s that moment that a high-pitched voice on the wireless croons And you come to me on a summer breeze.
“Yes, I think you can manage to keep a secret, Remus,” she says. “I think you specialise in it.” There’s no recrimination in her voice, just a little sadness. It’s easy to imagine telling her right now, but then Sirius comes over and asks him if he wants to step outside to have a smoke, and he realises again that he wants this to himself for a little longer.
He follows Sirius outside into the cold night air, with his pulse beginning to race and the crooner asking How deep is your love in the background.
Sirius grabs his hand and Remus has the distinct impression that he’s about to be shoved against a cold stone wall, and he can’t think of anything better.
Sirius looks at him for a second and Remus readies himself for the kiss of his life. Instead, Sirius stops and mutters, “Fuck.” Remus blinks in confusion until he hears Peter call out, “Oi, you having a fag? I want one.”
*
Remus pulls his cloak up around his ears as he steps out of the warm, close air of the Three Broomsticks onto the street. It’s just starting to snow. Big, fluffy snowflakes alight on his eyelashes and melt on his cheeks. Faerie lights twinkle and candles flicker outside every shop and holiday music filters out of windows. Smells of cider and roasting chestnuts fill the air. The relentless holiday cheer is at such odds with the serious conversation he’s just had that he almost feels dizzy.
Dark wizards, the end of life as they know it, a secret organization, prejudice and violence. Not exactly what he thought he might be doing when he finishes at school in a few short months.
And then there’s the gnawing feeling of guilt that Remus is, somewhere in the middle of his chest, excited to be a part of the resistance.
“Moony!”
Remus turns to find Lily and James walking hand-in-hand down the street. They look like a Christmas card, James tall and casually handsome, Lily stunningly beautiful with snowflakes catching on her red hair.
“Well?” James asks. “What did you tell him?”
Remus looks between Lily and James for a moment - not anxious to disobey her severe warnings about secrecy.
“He’s talked to him now. We’re all read in,” Lily says, nodding in approval. “Sirius too,” she says with a smile that Remus decides he doesn’t have to describe as ‘knowing’ if he doesn’t want to. It’s his own internal dialogue after all.
“Oh,” says Remus. He pulls a face at James. “What do you think I told him, Prongs?”
James claps him on the shoulder and grins. “I think you told him he could count on you as soon as you ace your Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.”
“I didn’t put it exactly that way, but you’ve got the general idea.”
James slings his arm around Lily’s shoulder and then does the same to Remus, drawing them both to him. “Just think of the adventure. We’ll be brilliant. Save the day and all that.”
Remus knows James well enough to hear how his bravado covers up how serious he knows what’s coming is. He feels a wave of affection for his brave, if slightly mad, friend.
“And you should see Sirius’ plan for chasing off after the foe,” says Lily. She cranes her neck to look past James at Remus.
Remus raises his eyebrows and is about to ask, against his better judgment, when James chimes in with, “The bastard bought himself a bloody motorbike. He thinks he’s going to charm it to fly.”
Remus is struck by a vision of Sirius sitting astride a big, powerful motorbike, wearing his favorite leather jacket - the one he bought to finish the job on his mother’s last nerve. His hair would blow back from his forehead gracefully as he sped through the streets, and Remus could sit on behind him, arms around his waist, and chest pressed to Sirius’ strong back.
Remus coughs and pinches his thigh. “Uh, yeah. Sounds like Sirius. Where, um, is he, by the way?”
Lily gives him another look.
“Right, I was supposed to tell you,” says James. “He said something about going over to yours. That was ages ago. Dunno if he’s still there.”
“Oh, well. Good. I mean, that’s good because my Mum’s away today and someone should let the dog - that is, my mum’s dog - out. Maybe he has. I should go and check.”
He turns to go before he can see Lily’s and James’ expressions. He reckons he can get on quite well without those images in his head. He’d rather hold on to the one of Sirius on the motorbike.
*
There’s a light on in Remus’ front room. He didn’t leave it and his mum has never left a room and left a light burning in her life. He pushes open the front door and walks down the hallway, trying to suppress the feeling that someone’s going to jump out at him.
He passes the kitchen and no one jumps out. There’s no noise and no smells of a romantic dinner. His stomach sinks with disappointment. He was away too long and Sirius gave up. He decides he may as well have a bit of his dad’s brandy and gets a cup and heads to the front room, where his dad keeps it in a cabinet.
The sight in the living room stops him in his tracks. He nearly drops the cup and he runs through an array of emotions in seconds - surprise, amusement, nervousness, and embarrassingly, arousal.
Sirius is sprawled out under the tree. He’s asleep, or passed out, more accurately. He is dressed in red trousers with a white ruff of fur around the ankles, his tee-shirt, and black braces holding up the trousers. He has a very festive crown from a Christmas cracker on his head and is clutching a toy boat that must have been in the cracker. It’s making a valiant effort to escape his grip, fluttering its sails and thrashing it’s rudder back and forth.
This is not exactly the vision Remus has in his head when he thinks about Sirius late at night - a far cry from the windblown bloke on the motorbike that would now be his go-to.
Sirius gives a soft little snore and curls onto his side. Remus has to stifle a laugh. Sirius would probably rather die than let most people see him like this. His laughter dies in his throat, replaced by a glowing warmth that Sirius is obviously willing to let Remus see him like this. He lies down on the floor, under the tree, next to Sirius.
“You smell like a distillery,” he whispers into Sirius’ hair.
“Mm,” murmurs Sirius. He turns his body to Remus and seems to be trying to burrow into him. Sirius’ nose lands in the crook of Remus’ neck. “You like boats.”
He’s so warm and he presses against Remus, chest-to-chest. Remus slides his leg in between Sirius’. His heart is racing and his stomach fluttering. He stops himself from saying something ridiculous like, Are we alone at last?. He reckons that being a queer, teenage werewolf from a family with no position, who’s in love with one of his best friends, who happens to be a disowned, former heir to an ancient pureblood family who’s just bought a motorbike is rather melodramatic enough.
“Are we alone at last,” hums Sirius, against his neck. Sirius never did worry about being melodramatic.
Remus runs his hand over Sirius’ hip, encouraging him to wrap his leg around Remus. “Looks like it,” says Remus. He’s so turned on, he’s shaking, He can’t believe that this could finally be it, they’re chance to do more than kiss.
“Someone’ll barge in. Just you wait Moony,” Sirius says, huffing loudly and tickling Remus’ neck.
“No they won’t,” Remus says, willing it to be true. He presses his lips to Sirius’ jaw and Sirius moves so their lips connect. The kiss is slow and sloppy and Remus is about to fall into it and forget everything else when he realises that it’s a little too slow, and a little too sloppy.
Remus pulls back so he can look at Sirius. His eyes are drooping and Remus finally notices his dad’s bottle of brandy, empty, lying behind him. Sirius follows his gaze sleepily, “S’for courage,” he mumbles.
“A bit too much courage, apparently,” Remus answers. Sirius flops against him again, his nose landing in Remus’ eye. “If - when - we do this, I want you to remember it,” says Remus. He pulls Sirius’ head onto his chest and summons the blanket from the back of the sofa.
Sirius looks as if he’s about to object, but then he nuzzles Remus a bit and mutters, “Yer comfy, Moony.” Less than a second later, he snores.
Tomorrow is another day, Remus thinks. His dad always said that anything worth having is worth waiting for. Remus is fairly certain he didn’t have this situation in mind, but it fits. Remus wraps his arms tighter around Sirius, lets himself sink into the warmth of the blanket and Sirius, and the comforting glow of the Christmas tree, and closes his eyes.