“Moony, I’m bored.”
Remus pushed up his gold-rimmed reading glasses and turned a page in his Transfiguration textbook, peering at it before jotting down a few notes on a sheet of parchment.
“Mooooony, help me be un-bored.”
“Un-bored is not a word, Sirius,” Remus replied without looking up.
“It doesn’t matter, you know what I meant. Now help.” No answer. “Please?”
“What’s in it for me if I do?” Remus turned another page.
“Er…lots of fun?” A disbelieving snort. “Mooooony.”
“Sirius, do your homework.”
Sirius, who had been lying on his stomach on his bed, pushed himself onto his elbows and glared at Remus. But his offended glare was wasted, because Remus didn’t look up.
“Homework is boring.”
“Not my problem.”
“But Remus, you know what you and James always tell me.” Sirius straightened up and said in a stiff, low tone, “ ‘A bored Sirius is a menace to society.’ If a bored Sirius is a menace to society, isn’t it your responsibility to save society?”
“Nothing can save society at the rate it’s going. Anything you do will probably only help.”
Sirius pouted. It was a very cute pout, one Remus would surely have enjoyed had he been looking up. Except he wasn’t, so it was wasted. But aside from their bantering, it was as if Remus was completely ignoring him. And that, Sirius decided, would never do. He tried another tactic.
Sirius sniffed. “I can’t believe one of my best friends is just abandoning me like this.” He rolled over onto his back, flung out one arm, and covered his eyes with the other. “Oh cruel world,” he cried dramatically, “thou hast caused—”
“Thou hast caused thy friends to be annoyed by thy useless prattle. Prithee, fair sir, to cease thy witless babble.”
Sirius took his arm away from his eyes and blinked, mildly impressed. “Hey, that was pretty good. And it rhymed, too. Have you ever thought about writing poetry?”
“Countless times,” Remus replied dryly, still flipping through his textbook. “It’s my lifelong ambition, to write poetry. But alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a poet. Woe is me.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “There’s no need to be sarcastic,” he complained. “I was just giving you a compliment.”
“Oh, my mistake. And here I thought that distracting me from my studying is really a bad thing to do. Wherever could I have gotten that idea?” Remus retorted, but Sirius thought he could see a glimmer of a smile hidden behind that book of his.
“You’re the one allowing me to distract you,” Sirius pointed out with ineffable logic.
Remus had no reply to that, and Sirius crowed inwardly. It wasn’t often that you could strike Remus Lupin speechless, and whenever you did, you had to gloat over it and remind him of it at every opportunity. Just in case he forgot, you know.
“Ehehehehehehehehehe,” Sirius cackled, and Remus finally looked up, startled and mildly disturbed. He blinked several times.
“Sirius, just what the hell was that?” he asked, and Sirius stopped his cackling to see Remus’s golden-brown eyes regarding him suspiciously behind those abominably cute reading glasses of his. Sirius had the sudden urge to go breathe on them and see if they clouded up. And we all know that Sirius obeys his urges, no matter how inane they may seem. So he slid off his bed and walked over to Remus’s, kneeling right next to it and leaning his arms on the covers, right in front of where Remus was lying on his stomach, reading.
“Sirius, what are you—” Remus started to say, but stopped when Sirius leaned forward and breathed lightly on his glasses, his warm breath smelling slightly of oranges as it wafted over Remus’s face and indeed clouded his reading glasses.
Sirius watched, holding his breath, as the fog slowly cleared and Remus’s eyes were a few inches away, clouded beyond the foggy glasses, indescribable emotions swirling around. Those eyes just gazed at him, and Sirius had to remind himself to start breathing again.
“Was there a reason for that, Sirius?” Remus breathed. Sirius’s attention slipped from Remus’s eyes to his lips, the lower one slightly chapped as Remus breathed over it.
“Unh. Yeah,” Sirius cleared his throat, his eyes still focused on Remus’s lips. “I was bored. I wanted to see if your glasses would cloud up if I breathed on them.”
Sirius’s gaze was broken as Remus suddenly burst out laughing. “And did you get your answer?” Remus asked, still chuckling as he closed his Transfiguration book and tossed it on the floor, followed by his notes and quill, then turned his full attention to Sirius. Sirius swallowed.
“Yeah,” Sirius repeated. “Your eyes do too. They were all swirly and cloudy and golden and bright.” Sometimes he really wanted to kill his mouth, Sirius decided. Especially when it ran off without his brain following, like it was doing now. “They’re pretty.”
“Are they now,” Remus said, his swirling, golden, bright eyes fixed on Sirius, whose mouth was suddenly dry. He nodded. They were very pretty, after all. It didn’t matter that pretty wasn’t very masculine. Hell, Remus wasn’t very masculine, so it made sense that he couldn’t use masculine adjectives to describe him. Or at least, some masculine adjectives. Others described him very well.
But as Sirius was musing on masculine adjectives and how they well they described Remus, Remus himself had moved closer, so when Sirius blinked, he discovered those eyes right in front of his own.
“Are you still bored, Sirius?” Remus asked, cocking his head slightly. Sirius shook his head, and discovered it was true. He wasn’t bored anymore. He opened his mouth to thank Remus, but never really got that far as Remus’s lips closed the gap between his own, and he was kissing Remus.
For such an unexpected occurrence, Sirius adjusted to it remarkably well. He hooked his arms behind Remus’s back and pulled him closer, leaning back at the same time so that Remus slid off the bed and on top of him. Remus’s hands were on the floor, lifting him up a bit so that Sirius had to lean forward in order to keep kissing him.
Finally, Remus pulled away, and Sirius laid his head back down, though his eyes stayed trained on Remus. Both of them were breathing hard, but a smile from Sirius brought an answering smile from Remus, one that cleared up the clouds in his eyes so that the sun shone through. Sirius gazed up at him, and decided that he liked the sight of Remus perching above him. They would have to do this more often.
And they did.