(no subject)

[-moonylupin-.livejournal.com]

Date: July 15th, 2000 (day)
Status: Mostly private - Sirius, Remus
Setting: Manor, grounds, bedroom (not in that order)
Summary: Picnic!



"Out of bed, Sirius. It's half to noon."

There was exhaustion in Remus' quiet voice, dark circles under his hazel eyes, but he stood there waiting regardless, holding a picnic basket with wonderful-smelling food. The scent alone could wake a dead man. Remus had to admit it, but not in front of Sirius, that Severus Snape was an excellent cook.

He waved the basket. "Come now," he teased gently. "I'm taking you outside, into the sunshine. It will be good for you. You're as pale as death."

Comments

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius, hearing Remus’ voice through a half-asleep daze, slowly rolled over onto his back, stretching his arms above his head. He turned his head to the side to face Remus, and a sleepy smile spread across his face.

“Mmm, morning.” He yawned, and closed his eyes with another smile. “Or afternoon. I feel loads better today, Moony,” he said. The tone was carefully nonchalant, but two nights earlier he had been in the worst shape in months, much closer resembling his mental state immediately after his return, or after his escape from Azkaban. After that terrible night, when Remus has finally calmed him enough to get him to sleep, he’d spent the next day and a half in bed, catching up on his rest. Now, he felt peaceful and even content for the first time in ages, but he was also terribly hungry and the smells wafting from Remus’ picnic basket were terribly tempting.

He didn’t even mind Remus’ teasing, although he did flinch slightly when Remus said he was ‘pale as death.’ He crawled out of bed, picked his jeans off the floor, and found some pants and a t-shirt folded neatly, by Remus no doubt, in a dresser drawer (he was already wearing boxers and his black t-shirt, but even he had to admit that after two days, they needed changing). “Now, now, no ogling me while I’m nude and helpless,” he said, wagging a mock admonishing finger at his friend before turning around, stepping into the corner behind the closet door, and changing. He knew he was really nothing to look at anymore, and his friend likely wasn’t interested, but he was proud of himself for falling into the casual teasing that used to be so routine for them.

Finally, he’d pulled on the pants, white t-shirt, and jeans, slid his feet into the sandals by the bed, and ran his fingers through his messy long hair a few times. Then, he grabbed Remus by the arm. “Let’s go, I’m famished!”

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Remus averted his eyes accordingly, but it couldn't stop the smile at Sirius' familiar eagerness.

"Famished? Oh, now I'm worried I haven't got enough food in here," he teased gently, pleased. It unsettled him to see his friend emaciated, ever since Azkaban, and he'd been coaxing Sirius to eat more, play more, exercise more.

They started out, downstairs, outside in the sunshine. "Pick a spot, Padfoot!" he shouted. "Anywhere, it's only the ants and us two today!"

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

As soon as Remus opened the door to the manor, Sirius transformed. Sirius was an expert at the transformation, and by now, the slightly gruesome (but painless) in between stages were barely visible. A blink, and suddenly there was a large, furry black dog where you’d swear a man had been standing a second before.

The dog bounded out the door ahead of Remus, perking up his ears as Remus spoke, and stopping to glance behind him every so often to make sure Remus was following closely enough. Finally, when the dog reached a grassy spot in the shade of two enormous trees, he stopped, crouched as though about to pounce, and wagged his tail playfully. He cocked his shaggy head to one side, as if to say, Here?

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The transformation from Sirius to Padfoot always surprised him with its fluidity, its ease. There was even the slightest twinge of jealousy at the happy bound, something that Remus hated himself for.

Remus swallowed and hefted the basket higher, squinting at Padfoot in the sunshine. "There? Very well, you big puppy." He set the basket down there, unravelled the blankets and spread them, checkered red-and-white on bright green grass.

He set out some sandwiches, rummaging through the picnic basket, and finally retrieved a slightly worn tennis ball. The werewolf smiled quietly.

"Padfoot!" he shouted to the racing animal, and threw the ball hard, out into the blue sky.

They'd eat in a minute. There was no rush.

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

As soon as the ball was thrown, Sirius sprung from his crouch and bounded after it. It didn’t look as though it was going very far, and as soon as the ball neared the ground, Sirius jumped, turned his head and body slightly to the side, and caught it between his jaws. He landed on his feet, although not very smoothly, and he turned around and ran back towards Remus, wagging his tail.

When he reached Remus, he dropped the (only a little slobbery) ball at his feet. He glanced at Remus for approval, and rolled over onto his back with his legs lolling in the air. He cocked his head at Remus with a big, floppy tongued dog smile, this time saying Please? Sirius’ human mind was dominant in his animagus form, but he had canine instincts, as well. Even though this would have been awkward as a man, neither part of his brain saw anything wrong with a dog asking for a little bellyrub.

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"This isn't getting you any sun!" Remus told him fondly as he bent down to pick up the Padfoot-drool ball, and smiled when Padfoot promptly rolled over, exposing his furry belly. The thin wizard rubbed it obediently, scarred hands scratching at all the itchy spots. And then he stood, ignoring the plaintive whine Padfoot gave, and threw the ball, turning around to set out a rolled-up jumper, and a book.

He settled down, watching the big black dog run, silky fur glimmering in the sunlight. "Sirius!" he shouted, and waved some sandwiches.

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius closed his eyes and arched his back in bliss as the long, nimble fingers scratched and rubbed at his sensitive belly. The world of the dog was very simple, with belly rubs right up there with treats, fetch, and Moony as one of the best things ever. When Remus drew his hand away, Sirius whined, but his euphoria quickly returned when Remus picked up the ball. He rolled back onto his feet, ears perked up. As soon as the ball left Remus’ hand, he shot after it, tail wagging furiously.

When he was almost to the ball, he heard his name, and stopped so abruptly he almost tripped over his padded feet. He turned around to see Remus waving two sandwiches at him. He’d known that there had been sandwiches in the basket since he’d first changed—he could even pick up the individual smells of the breads and cheeses and meats and spreads. But now, the smell of turkey and cheese was wafting through the breeze, reminding him of how hungry he was. He felt a sudden wave of that emotion that was somewhat like love (devotion, perhaps, or exaltation) that he only felt when he was in this form, because Remus had remembered that he liked turkey and cheese sandwiches best.

He began to wag his tail again, and nearly ran back to Remus, but he remembered that he was supposed to be a very good dog, so he dutifully turned around, trotted over to where the ball was rolling slowly on the grass, picked it up, and carried it back to Remus. He licked Remus’ hands affectionately as the man took the ball from him, and then trotted a few feet away next to the picnic basket, where he sat and changed back into a man.

(He still felt a bit canine, though, because he let a big goofy grin spread across his face)

[-moonylupin-.livejournal.com]

The sweet smell of freshly mown grass mingling with the more down-to-earth scent of turkey and cheese - something Remus found delicious when separate and disgusting when together, but Sirius liked something about it - filled his oft-teased nose as he leaned over and passed Sirius some napkins and the sandwiches.

"What?" Remus asked him. "What are you grinning at me for, Sirius? Did you think I'd forgotten that you love the horrifying turkey-and-cheese sandwiches?" He grinned, slightly. "You weren't gone that long."

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

"Sorry," said Sirius with an uncharacteristically (at least now-- Sirius wasn't sure, but he thought he might have been happy once) carefree chuckle. "It's so much easier being a dog. Sometimes when I come back, I still feel the kind of happy a dog can be." The euphoria was fading, but to his relief it wasn't replaced with the fear or depression that he was afraid he'd become used to. Instead, a kind of laid back contentment washed over him.

"S'just turkey and cheese, Moony," he said, leaning back and stretching his arms over his head. "Can't be as bad as that month when I'd only eat pickles and mustard sandwiches." He pulled a disgusted face at his own youthful impetuousness, and reached for a sandwich half. He brought it hungrily to his mouth, but then paused while it was still inches from his lips, looked at the ground, and let a smile that couldn't seem to decide between bemused or embarrassed spread across his face. "Thanks," he muttered, then took a bite.

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"I think I just threw up a little in my mouth, Padfoot, at remembering that." He wrinkled his nose, but his eyes were warm. "You had the worst breath, and around the full moon I had James-" he swallowed. They hadn't talked about James. "-James tackle you and get you to stop breathing down my neck so I could study. Ugh. My quill smelled like pickles for the rest of the year, I'll have you know."

He reached for his own turkey sandwich, with no cheese thankyouverymuchMonsieurPadfoot, and passed a cold - magically kept - bottle over.

"It's Butterbeer," he explained. "I thought a treat - on such a hot day - would be nice."

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius smiled a little uncertaintly when Remus spoke. He offered a brief chuckle at the memories (and he remembered this one clearly enough, although some of the joy had gone out of it and he couldn't remember why it had seemed so funny at the time), but looked away uncomfortably after a moment.

He was relieved when Remus handed him the bottle. "You talk about it as though you did it especially for me. We both know how much you love Butterbeer, mate." He flashed Remus a cheeky grin, then popped open the bottle with a sharp turn of his wrist and took a deep swig.

"Oh," he breathed, feeling the somehow refreshing warmth creep through him. "That's good stuff. Haven't had Butterbeer since--" he stopped, suddenly, and didn't speak for a second. Instead, he gazed sadly down at the bottle.

After a while, he said softly "New Year's Day. 1981. I think." He watched Remus out of the corner of his tired grey eyes. "Does that sound right? Sometimes I can't remember good things. I mean, I remember, but it feels like something that happened to someone else. Maybe it was after that."

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Remus nodded, staring at the bright blue sky like it was a giant Pensieve, with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"It probably was," the werewolf agreed, taking a sip. "Although I can't quite be sure, since I barely saw any of you or James after New Year's. Saw more of Lily and Harry, actually. I suppose that was when- when we didn't trust each other."

Cracking a smile, a proper one, Remus looked over at him. "At any rate, the party was fantastic. I can't believe you even remember that day, Sirius." He held up a hand to forestall any indignant objections. "Not because of your memory, but rather because we were both quite, er, quite far into our cups."

He downed about half of the bottle, then picked up his sandwich and ate that to pace himself. Sirius was damnably accurate - Remus did love Butterbeer. It had been worth the hassle, the owls to old acquaintances (who were somehow always surprised to hear he wasn't dead yet).

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius nodded, a sudden pang of guilt flooding over him. He half turned his head and looked over Remus, and wondered how this could be the same person that he, only twenty years earlier, had thought capable of killing James, Lily, and Harry. The warmth he felt for Remus now, almost like the way he and James had been but somehow different, too, because it was Remus, didn't seem compatible with that kind of suspicion. If he hadn't been so completely fucking stupid...

He brought a hand to his face to cover it as he tried to get a grip on a few runaway emotions, and then he rubbed his eyes until they hurt, not because of tears (he didn't even know if he remembered how to cry), but because it seemed to help him keep a grip.

"I'm really sorry, Remus. Shit." He looked up and gave Remus a round, red eyed stare. He knew he and Remus had already dealt with this, so he shook his head, took a deep breath, and took another drink of the butterbeer. It wasn't as alcoholic as he would have liked, but he appreciated the warmth.

"Yeah. I bet it was all the firewhiskey," he said with a half a grin. There were too many fuzzy corners in his memories to put them all down to alcohol, but it was a welcome relief to think that somethings were getting back to normal, and he hated having to break the delusion. He felt slightly uncomfortable now, since the day was so lovely and the feelings of unease were beginning to surface. He picked up the sandwhich and took a savage bite, swallowed, then turned to Remus as though he'd been thinking hard. Finally, he grinned, reached over and grabbed the neck of Remus' bottle with both hands, and quickly took a deep swig of the drink.

"Good stuff, that," he said cheekily.

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"Sirius..." he said, feeling tears sting his eyes as he watched his friend - his oldest friend - overcome. "I don't hold it against you." He smiled lopsidedly. "Never did."

There was silence as Remus sat there, looking at Sirius. It was too late for regrets. He'd learned that a long time ago, but Sirius hadn't had the time like he had, the freedom to think it over.

"It was four bottles of Ogden's Best," Remus replied, finally. "Each. And oy, that's mine! You have your own!"

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius, still grinning madly, stood up and ran, still holding the bottle in his hands. When he was a few yards away, he took another drink. "Mmm, delicious." He laughed again, and then turned and ran again, with a glance back at Remus hoping he would follow. Sometimes, Sirius felt like forty was too young. Both he and Remus had been through far too much in their years, and it was almost as though they were much, much older.

Other times, Sirius forgot that all of his wasted years had happened, and he was twenty again.

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"Sirius Orion Black! You come back here right now or I will..." A devious look came across Remus' face. "I will have to come over there and chase you."

Or, he thought, getting to his knees, he could try and limp towards him. There were days he felt old, and this was one of them. The werewolf shrugged away the grimace and chased after Sirius, putting a little bit of unused muscle into it, and catching up to Sirius despite several very clever maneouvres.

Caught in a face-off, Remus grinned, feeling the beginning of a sweat break out. "Well, how about it. Are you feeling lucky, punk?"

(He'd always wanted to say that.)

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius dodged Remus for awhile, until he suddenly found them face to face. He was about to try his very secret escape technique (feinting left and actually going right), when Remus spoke. Sirius gaped, staring for a second, and then his knees buckle and he succumbs to laughter. Not a few harmless chuckles, either-- he laughed so hard he could barely stand. His eyes watered, his throat and stomached ached, and he had to grasp onto Remus' shoulder for support.

After he finally gained control of himself, he rubbed the hand not holding him up against his red face. "I c-can't believe--" another bout of laughter here. "You did not just say that." He took a deep, slow breath, and finally brought himself to his feet, letting go of his hold of Remus. He smiled to show he was fine, and then the smile slowly spread across his face and he was laughing again. "F-feeling lucky, punk?"

He snickered, finally finished laughing, and then said, "Oh, c'mere," yanking Remus closer by the collar of his shirt and tickling his ribs.

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"Ack!" he cried, off-balance, stumbling in the tall grass and grasping Sirius' own shirt as he fell, pulling the man down into the grass with him.

Remus landed on his back, Sirius on top of him, in a bony sprawl of limbs and cheap clothing. "Oof!" Remus wheezed, breath knocked out of him. "Mind your elbows!"

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius snorted with laughter into Remus' neck, where his face had wound up in the awkward position he was now in. If he hadn't known Remus for almost thirty years, this would have been embarassing, but instead it was just funny. "I'd reply that your elbows are the bony ones, but I'm not so sure. We're a sight, you and I."

Just then, his palms found the grass, and he pushed himself up so that he was stradling Remus. This was, Sirius knew, the most effective position for mass tickleage. He laughed, somewhat evily, and then descended upon the helpless Remus' even more helpless ribs without mercy.

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Remus squirmed, breathless with laughter. "You're including me in that? I'll have you know - Ahahaha, no tickling the feet, that's not fair! - that - Sirius, ahaha, I mean it! - at least I don't have doggy breath!"

Scarred hands were reaching up and doing their bit to remember the most sensitive, ticklish areas around Sirius' hands, the backs of his knees, anywhere there might be a nerve that remembered... Sirius' hysterical whooping told a suddenly smug Remus that he'd found at least one.

There was something tugging at Remus' consciousness, trying to draw his attention subtly but firmly, a knock on the door of his mind. Remus ignored it, however: This was far too fun to ruin with bitterness, or regret, or even...

Remus won their power-struggle in a surge of energy, and rolled Sirius over, pinning him. Or even...

Breathing slowed, and Remus half-smirked, wiping sweat away from Sirius' cheek in an unexpected (to the both of them) gesture. "I win," he panted. Or even...

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius tried and failed to come up with a retort to the dog breath comment. It had been a source of great amusement to the Marauders that Sirius was so susceptible to being tickled, and he was too busy laughing so hard his eyes watered and squirming to even protest, let alone think up a witty rejoinder. When Remus turned him over, most of the resistance he must have met was from Sirius' flailing limbs and erratic movements but when he found himself on his back, he stilled, and lay back with his head in the soft grass, his arms stretched out behind him, his legs still wrapped around Remus for support, his eyes closed. A smile was spread across his face, although his body still shook with silent laughter.

As soon as he opened his eyes, the laughter stopped, and his body froze like a frightened animal. That smile physically hurt, aching somewhere deep in his chest. His tongue darted out, wetting his chapped lips, while the rest of his body was completely still and his round, wet grey eyes stared up at Remus. When the hand brushed his cheek, he let his breath out, softly and contentedly, and his eyelids fluttered shut, but something stuck in his throat. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like that. When he opened his eyes again, they were no longer wet, but soft and almost unfocused. He propped himself up on his arms bent at the elbow, lifting his head and neck a few inches off the ground.

Remus was so close Sirius could make out every line on his face and every colour in his eye. He was so close that a lock of brown hair tickled Sirius' forehead. He was so close that he could taste the butterbeer on Remus' breath. So close...

Sirius leant in, pink lips parting, so the his nose brushed against Remus' temple, and, with open mouth, licked him across the cheek as sloppily and disgustingly as he could manage.

Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Sirius pushed off the ground, tackling himself against Remus to push him off to the side. Sirius rolled with Remus, and then started to pick himself up, snickering. "So does this mean I win?"

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Sirius' slobber was enough to break up any reverie.

"Eurgh!" Remus groaned in disgust, rubbing at his face and fumbling for a scrap of fabric he kept in a back pocket. "I can not believe you just-!" He wiped it away, silencing that voice that said perhaps it was just as well Sirius had interrupted them. The voice had nothing on turkey-and-cheese dog breath.

"Win?"

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

"Yes, win" said Sirius with a cheeky grin. "I got you off me, didn't I?" He shook with silent laughter as Remus frantically wiped his cheek. Making normally controlled Remus come undone was a favourite pastime of his, even if he did have to resort to drastic measures sometime.

"Besides, I have the butterbeer," he said, and then realized that he was not, in fact, holding the butterbeer any longer. After a quick glance about, he saw the bottle lying an the ground, so apparently sometime during their impromptu wrestling match, he'd dropped and spilled it. He frowned, and half crawled, half walked back to the blanket (it wasn't far-- somehow they'd rolled several feet back in their original direction during the fight), and picked up his own nearly full bottle.

"Sorry 'bout that," he called to Remus. "You can have mine!"

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"What, and more slobber?" he bantered as he picked himself off the grass, brushing off the green blades from his chest and bum. "No thanks! I've got..."

Remus walked over, staring at the basket sitting out. "Oh, see, I brought a bottle of wine and two glasses. It was for dessert, but I suppose it'll have to do for lunch."

With the adrenaline wearing off, exhaustion began to slow Remus' limbs again. He wondered if he could take a nap soon...

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius is tired, too, even if he doesn't want to admit it. He lies on his stomach on the blanket, propping his chin up with his hands.

"Wine sounds perfect about now." He actually means it, too. Normally, he'd prefer something to get the job done faster, but it's such a warm, beautiful day and he already feels pleasantly sleepy.

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Remus poured the two glasses, noting with a glance Sirius' sudden lacklustre.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked quietly.

It was a deeper exhaustion pulling at the werewolf, and he felt it now, eyes beginning to close as he sipped his own glass, only a little full. Years of starvation meant no waste; Remus hoarded what he could. He slept when he got back from work, too tired to check in much on the always-sleeping Sirius, and fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow, but waking early enough to coax Sirius outside, to be sociable and friendly.

He leaned against one of the massive trees, watching Sirius with rapidly closing eyes. "Even after Butterbeer?" he quipped.

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius laughs into his hands. "Mmm, yes, very well. I've done nothing but lie about in bed for two days. You know how it is sometimes, the more you sleep, the more tired you are when some bossy werewolf finally drags you out of bed. Or maybe you wouldn't know, since you're always working."

He smiles to show that he is teasing, but only just a bit. Remus really does work an ungodly amount, either at the manor or tidying up the room or doing things for Sirius. He notices the way Remus' eyes flutter shut, and his expression softens a bit. He sits up and crawls towards Remus and the wine, and leans against the tree next to Remus, picking up the wine and taking a sip.

"Yeah. S'good. And it's not strong, butterbeer. Are you sure you're all right?"

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Remus grinned faintly, eyes still closed. "Exhausted," he replied honestly, feeling Sirius settling in next to him.

"Not drunk, certainly! I'm not that much of a lightweight, you know. If I recall correctly, who won the drinking games when we were in school...?"

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

"I know," he said quietly, taking a much deeper gulp of wine. "You of course." He enjoyed drinking this way, getting everything down as fast as he could, and it only pleased him more to imagine the way his family would look down on him for doing so with wine. With his free hand he brushed a few stray hairs out of Remus' face, and then impulsively rubbed his fingers through the hair to mess it up. The gesture reminded him too strongly of James, and made him think rather unpleasant thoughts about what he'd lost and what he's trying to replace. He doesn't want to spoil the pleasant afternoon with guilt, so he slowly and carefully smoothed it back into place. Then he takes another drink.

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"Right," Remus agreed, and concentrated on his breathing. He realized, in the sort of quiet realization that had no attachment of loss, just fond remembrance and maybe the slightest wish of privacy, that he hadn't been following his nightly book regime. Not since Sirius had arrived, and, to cement it, the duties of work.

Remus was falling asleep, too, despite the messing of his hair. Both he and Sirius were leaning against the tree, and he vaguely had an idea of what would happen if he fell asleep outside and Sirius had free reign to do most Sirius-type things, like muss up his hair, but the thought wasn't fully formed, quite, when he actually did fall asleep, back against the tree and body relaxing into the deeper sort of naps.

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

A whole wealth of Sirius-type things to do to a sleeping Moony crossed his mind, but none of them seemed particularly appealing. He picked a handful of leaves and grass off the ground and scattered in it Remus' hair, but somehow it didn't give him the satisfaction he'd thought it would. He sighed, and finished the glass of wine, feeling pleasantly warm and tipsy. He draped an arm around Remus' shoulders, pulling the sleeping body against his chest,* and very gently and unconsciously massaging Remus' far shoulder with his hand.

There was a sort of painful ache in his chest that he couldn't quite place, but it seemed to lessen somewhat when he let his head rest against Remus' hair, which smelled nice like cheap shampoo and bits of leaves and grass.

"Moony," he said to himself, because he felt like he should say something here but didn't quite know what it was his brain wanted him to say.

*Obviously, sleeping against a tree wouldn't be very comfortable. This was the only reason Sirius chose to do such a thing.

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"Mmmph?" he replied, drowsily, and settled deeper into the warmth, falling more asleep. He was comfortable, like this, despite the odds and the bark scratching his patched jumper. There was grass - a long blade of it stuck out of his hair and brushed his nose, causing him to reach up a hand to brush it away, mumbling.

Sleep.

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius smiled fondly at Remus' sleepy mumbling, letting his hand slide further down Remus' arm, still tracing small circles against the the thin material. He picked up the wine bottle and eyed the wine that was still sloshing around in the very bottom. He and Remus has almost finished the bottle between them, but he poured the rest into his cup, and drank it in several easy gulps. It wasn't the best quality of wine, really, but it was by far the best he'd had in a long while.

He let himself lean more of his weight against Remus, and realized in a vague sort of way that his hand was wrapped around Remus' waist. He wondered when that had happened, but he was too content and fuzzy-minded to move. He rested his head against Remus' again, and impulsively brushed his lips against the other man's forehead. It felt good, so good that Sirius shuddered, but didn't move away. He knew what it looked like and he didn't care, he dared anyone to see them like this and think whatever they wanted to think, because he loved Remus, and who wouldn't? Remus was kind and important and like a brother to him, like more than a brother, and there was nothing wrong with loving him for that.

Still, for whatever reason, he leant his head back against the bark of the tree, lamenting the loss of that warmth and closeness and wondering why he'd moved. He forgot a second later, when his eyelids fluttered shut.

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An hour passed.

Remus' pale skin was grateful for the cool shade of the leafy summer trees, a barrier against the hot afternoon sun, which was sure to leave a less unfortunate deeply sunburnt.

"Mmm," he said, eyes closed, as an adventurous squirrel's path across his consciousness - and the grounds - startled him out of sleep. He put out a hand to the nearest - to Sirius, and rested it on his hands, before actually waking enough to realize his action.

Don't be so protective, Remus scolded himself with a still-rueful smile, using the hand to nudge Sirius. "Wake up, old man, we've been asleep out here for ages. Our drinks have gone all warm."

Despite his comments, Remus himself wasn't inclined to move - he was far more comfortable, and still exhausted, out here than in the stuffy indoors of the Manor.

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"Mmmm'comferble," Sirius protested sleepily, tightening his grip on Remus. "Got such a nice sof' werewolf pillow." He smiled broadly, eyes shut, and then sighed and let them flutter open. "Ruined my nap with all your trying to escape, you know." He relaxed his grip on Remus, now, as he became more conscious, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

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He grew unaccountably nervous, and covered it swiftly with, "Trying to escape? Trying to get your heavy arse off me, more like."

Remus was watching Sirius with lowered eyelashes, peering down at him, and was unprepared for the sharp burst of affection in his chest; his breath caught when Sirius blinked, opening those beautiful eyes of his, and Remus was thankful he wasn't talking or he would have stumbled.

"'M not that soft," he said, contemplating returning to sleep, even as he kept staring.

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

((You're right---I'd bet he's pretty hard by this point ;p))

"True," said Sirius, "you're awfully bony, really." Oblivious to Remus' staring, he reached a hand up Remus' shirt and pinched the skin on his stomach. "Still need a lot of fattening up until I can finally bake you into a werewolf pie." He removed the hand from Remus' shirt and rubbed his own stomach. "Mmm. Old family recipe, that is. It's delicious."

He stretched his arms above his head and yawned, and then noticed the sleepy expression on Remus' face. "C'mon. Let's get ourselves to bed, all right?" He moved to stand up, and extended a hand for Remus to take in order to help him up.

There was a part pf him that felt oddly reluctant to let Remus go.

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"Knowing your family, I don't doubt it at all."

He didn't dare bring up the name Bellatrix around Sirius, nor any of his cousins, likewise anything about Azkaban - sometimes, Sirius looked so painfully thin it broke his heart, and Remus was forever trying to feed him and bulk him back up to something of his old weight, and the comment about being bony brought the worry to mind again. However, the family is the thing; he simply leaves the family remark as it is, putting a hand in Sirius' in order to be helped up.

Something creaks - he is aging, he's - what, forty, forty-one, forty-two now, fairly sure he ignored his birthday this year with more important events unfolding at his feet. Werewolves generally don't live very long, which is the largest factor: having your bones broken once a month is never good for the aches and creaks he'd normally get another thirty years before really feeling.

The funny thing about the whole scene now was its comfort - Remus hadn't even wanted to move, given the first opportunity. He probably, after all, would have fallen right back asleep in only a moment.

He stood with Sirius' help, and kept ahold of the hand for longer than necessary, until finally breaking the stare he'd begun minutes ago with a widening of the eyes in realization of his action. "Thank you," he said, politely.

[grimsirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius licked his suddenly very dry lips, and ignored the strange sensation in his stomach. All in all, he felt relieved and distraught when those familiar hazel eyes broke away from his gaze and he lost the warm pressure of Remus' hand on his.

"S'okay," he said, and then cleared his throat at the scratchy sound of his own voice. He hastily collected the empty bottle of wine and glasses, and threw those along with the blanket into Remus' picnic basket. He didn't quite meet Remus' eyes when he said "Let's just go now, all right?" With that, he started back towards the manor.

[-moonylupin-.livejournal.com]

The werewolf nodded - "Right" - and allowed himself to be led back inside, carrying the rest of the accoutrement, utterly lost in his own thoughts.