ETA: Omygosh I am worthless. Thank you very much, steph_hime for the Britpicking and little_needle for the beta. :)
Word count: 3,913
"What is it?"
"Take me out for a walk."
"No. You're lucky enough no one stopped you when you went to King's Cross to see Harry off."
"King's Cross," Sirius sighed.
It wasn't difficult to look up from the reference book on his lap. Remus removed his reading glasses to massage the red crease they left between his eyes. Sirius had been disturbing his work for most of the day and was the main factor in his budding headache, a vague sort of throb he could hear if he concentrated, and when he pointedly tossed aside his quill Sirius looked away, seeming unaffected.
After a few seconds he must have realized Remus wasn't going to stop looking at him. Sirius raised his eyebrows. "What?"
"Have you stopped talking and decided to let me finish this?"
"Finish what?" Sirius asked, apparently blind to some fifty scrolls on his kitchen floor. "I didn't think it was very important, what with you lounging about all over the ground. You might have used the table---then I would know I should have come back later."
"Don't be stupid. I wouldn't be sitting here if you hadn't insisted on playing Table Quidditch at the time. Now help me up."
They patted the filth off his already dingy robes once he was on his feet; Sirius's hand rested on his hind end a second too long for it to have been accidental, so Remus waved him away.
"I'm too busy for that," he said.
Remus strolled toward the tiny stadium, complete with a roaring crowd (that Sirius had muted because he preferred to listen to himself cheer himself on), six golden hoops, and whizzing and zipping balls. The snitch was no where in sight. "I don't know why you dragged this old thing out! It's out of date---" he plucked up one of the players and smoothed his thumb over its faded yellow paint. The arms flailed constrainedly in his palm. "They're not in terrible shape, though."
"You know very well I was testing out the game for Harry. I can't give him a faulty Christmas present."
"But you and James used to play with this. It's yours."
"I want it to be Harry's."
Remus wanted to say that Harry was a tad old for the game, that it would be sentimental but pointless, like giving the boy his collection of Chocolate Frog cards. Not something someone Harry's age would fully appreciate. But the look on Sirius's face…
"Then wrap it up and put it back into storage if you're quite finished," said Remus.
"I wonder," he murmured, "may I use…?"
Remus had pity and allowed Sirius the rarity of performing magic; his wand was already vibrating excitedly when it brushed Sirius's fingertips, and watching the way he jaunted out the room, the Quidditch set bobbing in his wake, a smile touched the corners of Remus's mouth.
The crunch of parchment under his feet as he misstepped made him clench his hair in his hands. There was so much work to do! He gathered most of it into his arms and with a crick of his back he was upright again, bread morsels and lint tumbling from the lot---someone should clean up around here, he noticed---and he laid it all out as neatly as he could.
He had settled down with a biscuit or three and a cup of something strong when Sirius returned, pushing around in the pantry, as complications and symbols filled Remus's head. A dash, then a circle---no, damn it, he'd smudged it---
"Remus! I need to use your wand again!"
He closed his eyes. "Go on, then!"
Really, Remus was fretful of letting a man who had been isolated for twelve years handle his wand, but no matter how many times Sirius asked to use it for cleaning a cobweb in a too-high corner or for repairing something miscellaneous that Remus was sure he'd broken himself, he couldn't let him down.
Sirius returned with a flush across his nose and ears, holding a jar. "Good as new," he said with a grin. He delicately placed the wand next to Remus's elbow. "You know, the furniture in this house is falling apart. I'm worried Harry's present will break the shelf."
"Keep it on the floor."
"Do you think it'll be trampled?"
"Sirius," he said calmly, "Jones is coming for these scrolls in an hour. I could go back to my house if you need some space to think---"
"No, no." He made a stay-put sort of gesture and he gave a nod, as if that settled that. In a moment he said, "Hestia Jones. She's a pretty sort, isn't she? Do you think she's Harry's type?"
"I wouldn't know. I'd say Harry's a couple decades young for her." He eyed Sirius, who was tossing the jar palm to palm. He sighed and turned away. The smack of glass against Sirius's skin panged in his ears, the quill twitched in his hand, and then, though it was a challenge not to lunge at the jar and break it for good, Remus faced Sirius again and took it from him. He thumped it onto the table. "You're either very bored or you're trying to get my attention."
"I think I'll go for a walk by myself." Sirius started away.
"You won't find anything of Harry's in the yard or on the porch or anywhere else! You've scoured the house."
Sirius's shoulders tensed under his robes. He turned around slowly.
"You haven't gone a half hour without mentioning Harry for days and days," Remus said. "Tell me why he's on your mind."
"I really haven't any idea what you're talking about."
"You've been sniffing around since he went to Hogwarts. What do you want? One of his socks to remind you of how he smells? A book to know what goes on inside his head? And you've been wrapping up all your worthless school things to give to him for Christmas---"
"Well I can't go out and buy him anything!"
"---when Christmas is three months away."
Sirius looked guilty pursing his lips. "You couldn't know anything about it."
"I could. I've been here watching it, after all."
"So what do you want? Do you want me to forget about him, not know anything about my own godson---and---and just wait around while he grows up?"
"I'm not being the best I can for that boy. I'm not out and about and providing for him...I'm not..."
"Because it's impossible---"
"I don't know a thing about him---"
"That's not true."
Then it seemed that no one had anything more to say, because Sirius's head was in his hands, and his robes stretched over his dilapidated form like a second skin as he slumped against the table. He breathed calmly in the dull light of the kitchen, though worry hung over him, a badgering presence that had been taking its toll since he had returned to Grimmauld Place. Remus collected himself, pressing his palm on Sirius's shoulder in hopes of bringing him back.
"It'll never be how I pictured it, Moony."
He looked at the twitching muscle in Sirius's cheek. "Don't think about it."
"I like to think about it. I was ashamed when I first became Harry's godfather: I thought, what if I get a chance to live up to that title someday---wouldn't it be great to have little Harry as a son? I could buy him everything he wanted. Quidditch figurines. A Fizzing Whizbee. Maybe two."
"I don't think James would be disappointed."
"It's not about James. It's about Harry."
The shoulder under Remus's hand was bone and hard muscle. He squeezed it, but Sirius did not react. His face was gray and tight when Remus took it into his hands. "Nobody's here," he said. "Do you want to go upstairs?"
His mouth twitched---a hint of a smile---his stubble scratching Remus's palms. "What do you mean?"
Remus pulled away with a snappish sigh, putting his hand into his hair. By now it was a tragic nest of brown and gray and he was sure any attempt to woo Sirius was being hindered by the sight of it. "I'm trying to relieve you of your godfatherly stress for just a little while."
Sirius hit him lightly. "But you're so busy."
"It can wait."
"I wouldn't dream of---"
Remus jerked him forward by the front of the shirt and, with his mouth already full of Sirius's upper lip, said, "It will wait."
"So, mm, you want me to be a bad godfather."
"I didn't say that---" he gestured at the scrolls with the quill in his hand "---I want you to stop annoying me." And he flung the quill onto the floor and pulled Sirius off the bench. "Relax. For just a minute, relax," Remus whispered against his jaw.
"He's such a good kid, don't you think?"
"We'll get him a good gift, then, for Christmas, how's that? A new gift."
"Yes," Sirius said with his nose in Remus's hair, "from you and me. You're a confusing man."
"Can we go someplace else? I don't want to---not in the kitch---"
But Sirius was already leading him up the fine old steps. They made it without stepping on too many toes and burst through the bedroom door without Remus having to remove his hands from under Sirius's shirt nor Sirius's tongue from his mouth, and---ah, there was a wall there! People really shouldn't leave things lying around.
They found the bed without much trouble, as it was in the same place they always left it. The sheets were rumpled and there were indents of heads in the pillows, which, Remus found as he was pressed into one, were as lumpy as ever.
"I just want you to know," he said, rolling them over and resting his arms on either side of Sirius's head, "that I found your box of trinkets that belong to Harry."
"And I don't mind. It's rather charming." Remus looked at him intently. His brow shined with sweat and a lock of hair clung to it and fluttered as his breath hit Sirius's face. He had a shaving rash, little red bumps on his chin, which Remus liked to kiss. Sirius told him it stung.
"Charming," Sirius said resentfully. "Fine. Charming."
Remus pressed his lips to the skin of his neck; then he nuzzled the print of saliva he had left. "Leave it be," he breathed.
He ran his hand down Sirius's side, and Sirius's pelvis was sharp as it bumped upward on his; he was eager despite his distractedness, and that went for his cock as well, which was easy to feel through his robes. Sirius reached between them for the buttons nearest Remus's crotch, and Remus humped into his hand.
Suddenly Remus was no longer covering his lover, but his lover was covering him again and pawing at his robes. They were old robes, thin and worn ones with discoloured patches. Remus was afraid the force would tear them; however, they managed to remove his cock---and it was cold today, he lamented. They might have made time to close the window, as the breeze on his sensitive areas startled him, but then there was the wet smack of cool lips, a mouth drooling with saliva that rolled down his red skin---slurping, groaning, breathing on his cock. Oh, it was marvellous.
His legs dangled off the squeaky bed. They twitched once, twice with excitement. He could hear himself breathing through his nose and Sirius breathing through his nose too, harsh, wavering like he had just run a long distance---
---Faster! Oh, keep running!
Sirius smiled at him with his eyes; they glistened in a way they only did when he was drunk on cock and lust and spinning in his own world, half ignoring Remus, which was only a little annoying, and positively out of his mind. Just the way Sirius should be.
He clutched Sirius's hair in realization he was about to lose control, and then Sirius, who really needed a wash by the feel of it, lifted up. He exhaled loudly. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No," Remus moaned.
"Too bad," he sang, dragging himself up Remus's body, clutching his cock in his hand as if it were a weapon. He moved the moist head over Remus, over his navel and his chest and then to swirl around one nipple while Remus rolled his eyes. Show off! He turned his head from the odour of the dampness that clung to his chest hair, but when Sirius straddled his head it was right in his face.
"Get it away," he said as Sirius waved his cock under his nose.
"I don't want to."
"If you come in my---"
"I'm not going to come in your mouth. Suck---suck."
No matter how many times he said it was his least favourite thing to do, Sirius insisted that Remus loved it. The pubic hair and heavy scents of sex choked him, though Sirius paid him no mind, instead leaning over for balance and rolling his hips, moving himself onto the smoothness of Remus's tongue. He liked to watch it wipe across Remus's lips and to watch his tongue flick out and wriggle between the slit.
He closed his eyes when Sirius began to pant and shove his cock toward the back of his throat, uncaring of his balls slapping Remus's chin. The bed smacked the wall and the springs whined. Remus breathed thinly. He had his own erection in his grasp---ah, he worked the foreskin with great might as Sirius entertained himself, but as he felt Sirius's balls clenching into themselves and his thrusts becoming shorter he forced the cock out of his mouth. Then he nicked it on purpose.
"Good Lord---" Sirius held Remus by the ears with slick, sucked-on, fingers, urging him up to his cock again "---not so hard."
"Get up, get up," Remus said breathlessly.
"Get off me, Padfoot."
Sirius pulled him up along with himself so that they were face to face, stomach to stomach, kneeling on the bed. They were right in the groove Sirius's body had made in the old mattress.
"Do you have to be so inconsiderate?"
"Only with you," Remus said, and kissed him. Although the room was cold still, the heat of their bodies together made things pleasanter. He would never admit that this gooey stuff was his favourite part: his hands dancing along Sirius's waist, down all the indents and crevices, feeling his arse squash under his thumbs; Sirius clutching him like he were a rag doll, like a particularly fragile one. It made up for all the arguments and for every time Sirius forced his erection down his throat.
Remus was enjoying the tautness of Sirius's legs and back, wide planes of skin with coarse hair, the dips between the bumps of his spine as Sirius messed his hair with his broad, calloused hands. Their cocks stood together, bouncing off one another in the space between their bodies. He felt heavy. He wished Sirius would touch him lower, and he tried to lead Sirius's hand down there; he was batted away. Remus took out his impatience on Sirius's neck, cheeks all aflush as he struck. Sirius gasped and put his hand on the tender bite.
"Moony, Moony," he said in a way that meant he was extraordinarily roused up, "my little cannibal."
"How you whine. My little baby."
"Bigger than you."
"You have poor eyesight."
"You're skin and bone."
"I'm watching my figure."
"---watching it decay before your very eyes---ack!" Remus's cry resounded throughout the room as Sirius offended his lower area, though it was no comparison to the one that followed as he continued to attack. "Don't tug so har---d---d---"
When Sirius laughed it made him tingle and throbbed in his ears, huge instruments being played upon with each note his thick voice created. He tried to focus on it, savour it, for Sirius was prone to mope lately, but the hands on his body were distracting---Sirius liked tickling him and scratching and beating on him.
Remus smacked him back, trying to get a hold on Sirius's cock. "You're not allowed to touch me there! How do you like it?"
Sirius was still laughing---cackling---and that made him very happy.
He was so caught between wanting to defend his territory and wanting to invade Sirius's that he didn't notice his head moving toward the wall until it hit the blunt surface.
"Remus," Sirius said cheerfully, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to push you."
"You did," Remus snarled, and leapt up.
They wrestled, fingers and ankles twisting up, and their bones were so tired from the knocking, the banging about like a couple squirrels fighting over a nut, that they dismissed it all in favour of rolling around good-naturedly. The blankets went along for the ride---masses of cotton and an old smelly quilt---which made it that Remus could no longer say who was on top of whom; Sirius groped the inside of his thigh, where he hated it most. He gave up playing, to knee Sirius in the ribs, which was incentive enough for Sirius to stop the games and---"Finally!" Remus called---pin Remus's hands above his head.
Sirius rested his mouth against his red earlobe, the heat of his breath unpleasantly sticky, and heaved out, "I'm the victor!"
"Yes! Now let's get on with it."
"I'm the top dog!"
Sirius kissed him, firm, straightforward like a lover ought to kiss. He licked his tongue over Sirius's lips, the sweaty tang of his chin, and around his nostrils.
The wind in the drapes was restless. They fanned the room like ladies airing out their dresses.
"Do you think I'm a good godfather?" Sirius asked.
"The best in this house."
"Right. Thanks." He cupped Remus's cheeks in his hands. "Do you think---"
"I don't want to think right now," Remus snapped, and now Sirius was the one rolling his eyes.
Remus, once he was released, turned over and rested on his elbows and knees.
"I mean," Sirius was saying, "I can't even take him to an ice cream shop if I wanted---buy him a sundae. Do you think his Muggles ever did that?"
Sirius's eyes went wide. "You don't really think he'd need that, do you?"
"Lubricant," Remus clarified. "Hurry up with it."
He admired the way it shined on Sirius, so bright, so bright. Sirius gripped his cock's head and smeared it up the split of Remus's arse; that made him slump against the headboard delightedly.
"Mm, push it in," he said, and Sirius did.
The wood of the headboard was solid under his nails. He crushed his teeth together. The pressure---familiar, hurried---
Sirius had a way of locating his prostate without effort: swipe, swipe, jab. Remus looked over his shoulder to the hands on his hips, which squirmed back in a manner he would be embarrassed of at any other time, to see how hard Sirius worked, his palms sweaty, his eyes trained on his target, his cock adamant of its task. He was a breathtaking man with his nipples scrunched up and his chest caving with sensitivity, his teeth gnashing as flecks of spittle flew around with the force of his breath.
Remus's eyelids fell. The sensations built up and closed in. Lungs pumped, limbs ached with tingles and convulsions---a tick in his left knee, no, now his right, oh, he didn't know if he could hold himself up.
Sirius smiled against Remus's ear, and he panted in time with his drive and the swing of his balls, and then leaned further onto him. Now they were touching, flush, thoughtless as the bedcovers slipped around under their knees. Remus held his cock close to his stomach. The underside was damp from the lubricant on their hands.
"It's---oh, yes," Sirius called. He wrenched Remus further onto his cock.
"Oh, don't---get it out!"
Sirius got a hold of himself; he removed his cock and fisted it violently, spreading Remus's arse apart with the other hand. Remus stuck his arse up, letting his head drop low, to indulge Sirius. It was warm when he came in short spurts. Remus felt it in the crease of his arse. Sirius slapped his cock onto Remus's skin, and the head was red and beautiful as it was swirled around in the fluid it had just produced. He let his foreskin shift back over the head and then pulled it back again.
"Help me," Remus said, whilst he jerked himself. He felt Sirius's arms close around him and his hand cover his own. Remus watched his come stain their hands. While the dribble was soft and slow, the impact made him curse and throw his head back, nearly pummelling Sirius.
He didn't notice Sirius was already lying comfortable next to him until he slumped with his face near Sirius's ribs. They rose and fell slowly.
A wind chime was swaying somewhere.
"Hmm," Sirius said.
He looked up. Sirius was chewing the nails on his wand hand.
"You shouldn't do that," Remus commented.
"Have you bathed today?"
"We've just had sex."
Remus stretched. His muscles were liquid it seemed. Slimy, goopy. He scooped himself up and poured himself back out on his stomach with his head propped on his hand. He could see Sirius's lazy face clearly; also, he saw something white sticking out from under the pillow.
He reached under Sirius's head and pulled out what had smelled bad: a little sock, stretched out to fit a bigger foot. On the bottom the letters DD were scribbled out and under them were the letters HP.
"Oh," Sirius drawled. "I must have been looking at it this morning."
"You stole your godson's sock?"
"He left it here. It was under his bed."
Sirius reached for the sock and he held it in his hand as though it would break at any second. He went to the wardrobe, where he removed a small mahogany box and folded the sock in half and placed it there.
Remus rolled off the bed, and then was behind Sirius's crouching form, pressing himself against his back. Sirius's expression was mournful.
Remus took a slow breath. "I used to think about what it would be like to take care of Harry too, did you know? Perhaps Lily and James would go on a holiday and we would take him to a museum or a park." Remus smiled at Sirius's neck. "He would call me Uncle Moony."
Sirius had the box on his lap, his torso hunched over to hide it within his grasp; he leaned his head on it, breathing deeply and the steamy air left white on its smooth, reddish surface.
"We'll get him a nice Christmas gift." Remus moved Sirius's hair to kiss his ear. He stood up.
"Yes," Sirius said. "From you and me."