rageprufrock: I held up my end of the bargain. *G* How'd you do?
Thanks to Lyra, as always. *smooches*
There was, naturally, no good explanation for Sirius showing up at Remus’ doorstep at five thirty in the morning wearing a flowered skirt and a hot pink tube top. In fact, there was no explanation whatsoever, but that was to be expected. Sirius muttered something about James and a bet, and Remus lent him a towel to wipe off the blue eye-shadow smeared over his eyes, and didn’t even try to make sense of it all. Because he was a good friend, he even waited until Sirius was in the next room to laugh so hard that he ended up rolling around on the couch.
Because he was human, he didn’t stop when Sirius stomped back in and threw one of the strappy sandals he’d been wearing at Remus’ head with thankfully (and predictably) poor aim – and dear God a tube top and sandals in London in March?
“Are you – are you all right?” Remus managed, catching his breath and wiping his eyes. “It’s cold out.”
“I noticed that, thanks,” Sirius bit off, throwing the other sandal across the room, and pulling off the tube top, only to drop it to the ground with a look of disgust. “Thanks so much for caring, yes, I’m fine. I’m bloody fantastic. Give me liquor.”
Remus gave Sirius’ skirt a pointed look. “If you were sober when you put that on, I think I’ve lost what little respect for you I have.”
“I’ll put knives in your family,” Sirius warned, “if you don’t stop talking and give me something very alcoholic right this very second.”
“There’s scotch in the kitchen,” Remus said, unconcerned, stretching himself out, comfortably, on his couch. “Bring me one, as well. I think I need it just to get over the shock of seeing Sirius Orion Black dressed up like a more floral version of Rocky Horror.”
Sirius growled something insulting about Remus’ ancestry from the kitchen, but came back with two glasses nonetheless. He sat in the armchair across from the couch, and pulled down the hem of the skirt, attempting to cross his legs modestly at the ankle.
“Bugger this,” he muttered, giving up and crossing his legs normally.
“You know good girls don’t sit like that,” Remus deadpanned.
“I want you to think very carefully about who you’re dealing with here,” Sirius told him, but without heat. “I have relatives who would grind your bones to make their bread, Moony.”
Remus nodded, conceding the point as he sipped his scotch. “So, may I ask what made you decide to get so…dressed up? Did you just,” his lips quirked, “want to feel pretty?”
Sirius glared, and Remus snickered again. “I’m pretty enough without the skirt, thank you. James, the poncing git that he is, thought it would be amusing.”
“Amusing is a word for it,” Remus said, catching the pillow Sirius threw. “What did you two bet on this time?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sirius knocked back his scotch. “But I will say this: Never, *ever* believe a thing that Kingsley Shacklebolt tells you when there’s a pretty woman involved.”
“So now the fashion show is Kingsley’s fault?”
“No, no,” Sirius hastened to assure him, “it’s all James’ fault. Completely and utterly James’ fault. You have to help me get him back, somehow. Although, I’m not sure what would be adequate revenge…did you see the shirt I was wearing? Cruel and unusual, that was.”
“Very cruel,” Remus agreed, grinning widely. “I nearly went blind.”
Sirius scratched his stomach and looked up at the ceiling, sighing. “I hate my friends,” he said to no one in particular.
“Mm, and clearly James isn’t too fond of you, either,” Remus pointed out, reaching over to pick up the tube top. He examined it, holding it over his head, and flipped it inside out, fascinated. “This color is an affront to both God and man.”
“No argument here, mate.” Sirius swirled his drink, and scrunched up his nose. “Dear God, I can never go out in public again. I think I’ll have to live in your flat for the rest of my natural life.”
Remus laughed. “Or I could just kill you and have done with the concept of ‘natural life expectancy’.”
Sirius eyed him narrowly, and tugged at the hem of his skirt again. “Try it, Moony. I’m looking for a fight.”
“You know where James lives,” Remus said with a fluid shrug. “He made you wear *this* after all. I think that’s probably the best place to direct your anger, rather than transferring it onto me.” He tossed the tube top in the air with a flourish, catching it and playing with it some more.
“You should have been prevented from having a psychology minor,” Sirius muttered, standing to refill his empty glass, and snagging Remus’ along the way. “As it is, James is at Lily’s and she frightens me more than either of you do, so I’ll just have to content myself with getting lousy drunk with you.”
Remus sat up and watched Sirius from over the back of the couch. The wan light in the kitchen showed freckles across Sirius’ broad back and the flex of his muscles as he reached into the liquor cabinet. “Are you going to wear the skirt all night?”
“Yes,” Sirius bit out, shortly. “It’s that or nothing. Well, nearly nothing.”
“Skirt it is, then,” Remus concurred, lying back down, and shaking his head. “Interesting night we’ll be having,” he murmured to himself. “Interesting night.”
“No, bloody hell, no!” Sirius sputtered, shooting out of his chair. “I *never* lied to Penelope. I told her it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, now did it, eh? Besides she had that…that, oh fuck I’m too drunk to remember the word. She smelled like rice.”
Remus nodded sagely. “Yes.”
“You’re not sober either,” Sirius accused, pointing and frowning. “Don’t pretend you’re sober, because you’re not…you’re uhm…thing…eyes! They’re squinting. You squint when you’re drunk.”
“That,” Remus conceded, “is true.”
“Too right it is,” Sirius said, nodding proudly as he pushed Remus’ legs off the couch so that he could sit. “I didn’t want to date Penelope, Remus.”
“Because she smelled like rice?” Remus asked, interested.
Sirius snorted, and leaned his head against the back of the couch, his hand landing on Remus’ shoulder. He squeezed it lightly.
“Oh, Remus. Remus. Remus. Remus,” he said, sighing. “The smell…had very little to do with it. It was mostly the…uhm…the thing.” He waved his hand vaguely and closed his eyes. “You know. That big thing.”
Remus squinted more, studying Sirius’ expression. “Her nose?”
“No, no, not her nose,” Sirius laughed. “She did have a big nose. Do I have a big nose?”
“That depends,” Remus told him. “On whether I look at you with one eye open or both.”
Sirius nodded. “Ahh. All right.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Christ, we’re drunk.”
“Indeed,” Remus agreed, closing his eyes. “I don’t doubt that tomorrow we’ll both be...damn. What will we be?”
“Hung over,” Sirius said after a moment’s thought. “Desperately, horrendously, fucking *hideously* hung over.”
“That’s exactly it.” Remus cracked an eye open. “Sirius?”
A dark brow went up, and Sirius turned his head toward Remus. “Yes?” he asked, opening both eyes.
“Your skirt is very pretty,” Remus told him, patting his thigh, comfortingly. “I like the…uhm…flowers.”
Sirius glared, and adjusted the hem of his skirt, jerkily, causing it to sit lower on his hips. “You’re evil.”
“Most likely.” Remus nodded. “Dark creature and all that. Grr,” he growled mockingly, snapping his teeth closed in the empty air.
Sirius laughed, pulling his legs up and rolling over, so that his head was in Remus’ lap. “Thanks for taking me in,” he said, looking up. “Even while I was wearing the criminal pink.”
“It *is* criminal.” Remus pointed at the tube top, where it lay on the floor. “Bloody *awful*.”
“Yeah, it is,” Sirius said, smiling up at Remus. “Did I tell you about the thing yet?”
Remus frowned in thought, still glaring at the offending shirt. “The bet?”
“No, the big thing. About me and Penelope.” Sirius reached up, and turned Remus’ face back so that he was looking down at Sirius. He could see the deadly serious expression that had managed to some how creep across Sirius’ features.
“Is now really a good time to tell me? It sounds…important and we’re…well. We’re off our bloody rockers, Sirius,” Remus stated.
“I’m wearing a skirt,” Sirius pointed out, nonsensically.
Remus blinked. “You are, yes.”
“So this night can’t possibly get any more embarrassing can it?” Sirius asked, triumphantly. “That makes it the perfect time to tell you. Because it is, you know, big.”
“It is,” Remus echoed, feeling his features pinch with apprehension. “Sirius, maybe we could – ”
“It’s the thing I have for you,” Sirius blurted out, putting a hand over Remus’ mouth. “The love-thing. And it’s a big thing, and I told Penelope about it, and she yelled and screamed and threw things. She came by the office today and dumped all of my things on the floor by my desk, and called me a poof in front of the whole office, but that’s all right, because James knows. He’s known for years, I mean, more than I’ve known he’s known and Remus, dammit *say* something!”
“Mmmphgm!” Remus mumbled, from behind Sirius’ hand.
Sirius blinked, and pulled his hand away. “Right, sorry, but Remus, please, please, just say something. Anything. Make fun of my tube top some more, but please…if you don’t. I mean, if you don’t feel the same way don’t tell me right now, tell me in the morning because I swear I’m drunk enough to cry – ”
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Remus interrupted, pushing hair off Sirius’ forehead.
“Yes?” Sirius ventured, cautiously.
Remus grinned. “Good,” he said, leaning down and pressing a kiss that tasted like scotch and cigarettes to Sirius’ lips. “Now, shall we try having this conversation again in the morning when we’re both less…fucked in the head?”
“Is that a…is that a good response or a bad response? I can’t tell,” Sirius asked, plaintively, frowning. “You kissed me, but didn’t really respond. Don’t think I can’t tell when you’re trying to…uhm, deflect me, because I can.”
“I know that,” Remus told Sirius tenderly. “But I would really rather tell you that I love you for the first time when I’m sober enough to appreciate it, is that all right, you git?”
“Oh,” Sirius said, thinking. “*OH*,” he repeated, smiling broadly. “Oh, that’s fine, that’s wonderful, that’s *marvelous*!” he crowed, scrambling up to sit astride Remus’ lap. He fisted his fingers in Remus’ hair and kissed him thoroughly, sloppily.
When the pulled apart, Remus shook his head. “I think we’re both too drunk to follow up on that,” he said, regretfully. “But it was a bloody great kiss.” He squeezed Sirius’ thighs, and grinned again.
“Then again maybe we’re not too drunk,” he amended, as Sirius nibbled his way down Remus’ neck. He ran his fingers up, underneath the hem of Sirius’ skirt and pulled back, shocked. “Sirius, tell me you’re not wearing a thong!” he exclaimed.
Sirius said nothing, just blushed a brilliant red. Remus burst out laughing.