The bathroom feels crowded with both of you in it. Sirius is on the counter, long fingers toying with the edge of your t-shirt and legs around you where you stand between his knees. You've got one hand on his chin, gently, and the other presses into his skin.
"Did you get this tattooed, or something?" You are having trouble keeping the swipes of the makeup removal wipe soft as you rub at Sirius's lower eyelid.
"You know the locations of my tattoos, darling. Intimately." His hands slip under the waistband of your sleep pants to cup your ass over your underwear. You allow it, but only because he's holding still like you asked.
"If you did get makeup tattoos that would save me a lot of time," you grumble. You'd not felt well this evening so you stayed home when Sirius went to the pub with the boys. You've been missing him for hours, and now that he's back you're trying to figure out how you can keep touching him all evening.
He wrinkles his nose, the gold ring through one nostril catching the light for a moment. "I'm not the one who won't let me take off my own eyeliner." He kneads your flesh with firm hands and you click your tongue.
"Because you scrub your face until it's red and hardly ever take anything off properly," you chide. "You're lucky I'm here to rescue your pretty skin." You move your hand so that you're more cupping his jaw than holding him steady. Touching Sirius is grounding. He's the most solid, sure person you've ever met.
He leaves your poor bum alone and slides his hands up to your hips, warm fingers and not-so-warm rings squeezing gently. "Has your headache gone?" he asks, softer now. His eyes study every inch of your face and if you weren't so used to it by now you'd feel a little self-conscious. But Sirius is always looking at you, always tracing your features like he's seeing you for the first time.
You shake your head. "Not totally," you say. "But I took something and I've been drinking water." He frowns and it moves his whole face, brows furrowing and you narrowly avoid poking him in the eye. "Hey!" you scold. "Stay still."
He ignores you. "Do you want me to go get something?" he asks. His knees press into the sides of your thighs. "The corner shop should still be open. Or I could call Evans, see if she has some of those migraine meds--"
You press your fingertips to his lips. "No," you say. "Close your eyes." He stares at you for another moment before obeying. You brush the wipe over his lids one more time and deem it as good as it's going to get. You study him now that his gaze is off of you. Long lashes, a small scar above his eyebrow on one side. The strong brow and intimidating line of this jaw. He's beautiful.
"I wouldn't have gone out if you had asked," he says. You tap his cheek and turn away from him to throw the wipe in the trash, but his hands tighten their grip on your hips before you can move very far. "You know that, right? You're my priority."
You cup one of his elbows with your free hand. "I know," you say, and mean it. Sirius has never done anything to make you question it. "But I'm fine, really."
"Do you want me to read to you?" he asks. "Put your head in my lap and I'll stroke your hair with my magic hands." He tickles your sides and you squirm, laughing.
"Who told gave you the impression you had magic hands, you loser?" You lean in to press your forehead to his. You know you're kidding yourself, but you swear just touching him makes the ache in your skull lessen.
Sirius brings his lips to the corner of your mouth lightly. "You did," he says. He trails them up your cheek to the corner of your eyes. "Last night. And yesterday after lunch. Oh, and in the kitchen on Wednesday when I bent you over the --"
You quiet him with your own lips, chasing his to kiss him before he can keep going. He laughs into it but allows it, releasing your hip to press his hand to your cheek as he traces the seam of your mouth with his tongue. But he only teases you for a moment more before pulling away. "C'mon, sweetheart," he says. "Let's get you in bed."
You toss the wipe that's still in your hand somewhere close to the trash bin and wrap your arms around your boyfriend, resting your head on his shoulder. "In a second," you say into his shirt. He hums and you feel it in your own chest as he pulls you close.