how deep is your love?
Sirius was about to faint.
Not only did Remus look unfairly hot tonight (something about him in that white t-shirt…), but he was acting like that. Touchy and flirty, his long fingers wound in Sirius’s hair. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. Sirius was going to crack. He was going to crack and be a complete imbecile and kiss Remus.
He followed Remus out of the portrait hole, struggling to keep up with Remus’s long strides. They arrived at an alcove and Remus settled down on the ledge, gesturing for Sirius to sit down next to him. And like the lovesick idiot he was, Sirius did.
Remus grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, holding one out for Sirius. He lit his own with a snap of his fingers.
“What the fuck, Moony?”
Remus looked at him confusedly.
“How are you so bloody cool?”
“What?”
“You can light it with your fingers. Where did you even learn to do that?”
Remus smiled sheepishly. “Me pa used to do it.” His Welsh accent was coming out, just like it always did when he was drunk. Sirius secretly found it endearing. Though, at this point, Remus could do practically anything and Sirius would find it endearing.
Sirius snapped his fingers hopelessly, with no success. Remus smirked at him.
“Here, let me help.”
Sirius put the smoke between his lips, expecting Remus to snap his fingers again and light it. But instead, Remus leaned in, brown eyes fixed on Sirius, and touched the tip of his cigarette to Sirius’s. He was inches away. Sirius could smell him - chocolate and ink and smoke. Fuck oxygen, Sirius could only breathe Remus’s scent.
Remus leaned back, eyes closed. He let out a puff of smoke, staring back down at Sirius. Sirius couldn’t move. He’d never felt Moony’s eyes fixed on him like this, with the same intensity he read his novels. Remus’s gaze felt like the only sunlight he’d ever need.
“Bellissimi occhi castani.” Remus sighed, and it sounded like chocolate coming from his lips. Remus speaking Italian was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. How long had he been hiding this from Sirius? Sirius hoped he never spoke English again. It was pure velvet on his tongue. It should’ve been a sin to speak like Remus did.
“Since when can you speak Italian?” Sirius stammered, losing his tongue. How could he speak normally when a literal angel sat before him, golden curls and beautiful scars? He wanted to trace the scars that lined Remus’s face, fix his lips on those pouty lips, and bite his teeth down on those fucking shoulders. He was dying.
“My mom used to be an Italian professor at Muggle university. When I was a kid she’d speak with me and read stories, but I was never all that good at it. She’s much–” Remus rambled.
But Sirius couldn’t hear the rest because all he could think was I love you I love you I love you. He had never loved anything more than he loved Remus in that moment. Remus, innocent and good, with his dirty mouth and sharp tongue. Remus, with his too-long limbs and easy confidence and penchant for rambling when he’s nervous. Remus, with his messy curls and scars, untameable and majestic. Remus, disappearing into a book, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Remus, with those lips, perfect and pink and upturned in a perpetual smirk. And Sirius couldn’t do it anymore.
“God, just shut up.” And Sirius grabbed Remus’s face, pressing Remus’s lips to his. Remus froze for a moment, before looping his arms around Sirius and pulling him into his lap. Sirius practically melted into Remus. Remus was everywhere. His hands were in Sirius’s hair, pulling at his curls. His hips pressed up into Sirius. His tongue slipped into Sirius’s mouth and Sirius moaned. His brain was rewiring and all it knew was Moony, Moony, Moony.
Fuck. Moony.
Sirius pulled back suddenly. Remus, adorably moussed, cocked a brow at him.
“Have I lost my touch?” he said lightly, a hand interlacing with Sirius’s.
“Are you sure you want this, Moony? There isn’t someone else?”
Remus blinked at him incredulously. “God, Sirius, I can’t even remember anyone else’s name right now. All I’ve been able to think about for the last three years is you.”
“Three years?”
Remus blushed. “Pathetic, right?”
“You joking, Moony? I’ve been obsessed with you since the first day I met you. It just took me fucking Oliver Knight to realize it.”
“Oliver who?” Remus grinned, bringing Sirius’s lips to his.
Sirius pulled back again, and Remus smirked at him.
“Merlin, Sirius, you’re freaking out more than me.”
“This isn’t because you’re drunk, right?”
“I could take 10 sober-up potions and I’d feel the exact same. I don’t think a unicorn hoof could knock this out of me.”
“Are you sure?”
“You absolutely oblivious moron. I love you, you idiot.”
“You love me?”
“No, you’re right. I love Gilderoy Lockhart.” Remus feigned standing up. Sirius caught his stupidly perfect hand, pulling him back down.
“I love you, too, wolf-boy.”
“Wolf-boy?”
Sirius pressed a kiss to his lips. “Does it help if you’re my wolf-boy?”
“No, that actually makes it worse,” Remus grumbled, but he pulled Sirius in, delighted smirk meeting exasperated smirk once again.