A/N: A Secret Santa story, written for JPLE. So happy (slightly belated) Christmas! I hope you like it. :)
(I wouldn't say romance is a strong point of mine, so this is mostly friendship-based.) Reviews are welcome with open arms and I hope you're all having a lovely Christmas/holiday season!
"Boxing Day," said Sirius, turning from the open front door where Remus stood and making his way back to the living room, "is the most depressing day of the year."
Remus raised an eyebrow and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him so as not to cause a draft. Cards were balanced precariously on the hallway table, with little men and women dressed in extremely festive attire waving frantically from the frames, their cheeks rosy red with the cold and too-big smiles.
He stepped over half-empty boxes, slathered with torn wrapping paper or containing the bottom layer of chocolates, with only the toffees remaining. A puffed-up piece of tinsel hung above the living room door, and was beginning to droop, rendering the door impossible to close. Remus raised his wand and fixed it back into place, and followed Sirius into the living room, which was looking rather dull.
It was as messy as the hallway; boxes and wrapping paper and bits of tinsel that didn't seem to have come from anywhere and cracker halves and sweet wrappers and plates of chicken bones and dirty mugs and glasses and muddy paw prints covered the floor.
"Haven't had the time to clean up, I take it?" Remus asked, though he knew that all Sirius (or anyone) had been doing since yesterday was lounging around and eating chocolate.
"No," came Sirius' voice from the kitchen. He emerged, batting a large plastic bell hanging from that doorframe away, wearing a paper crown and carrying a bottle of brandy and a couple of glasses. "Drink?"
"Oh, you haven't been drinking, have you?"
"It's Christmas!" Sirius pushed past him and set the bottle and glasses down on the coffee table, where he could find a space, and then straightened up. "Well, alright, maybe it's Boxing Day, but after all, it's still the season of goodwill and all that. A week 'til the new year." He turned and poured two glasses.
"But you're on your own," said Remus, looking down at him dubiously.
"That's only because none of you have been to see me," said Sirius, turning to him, cocking an eyebrow, and offering him a glass of the amber liquid. Remus accepted it hesitantly.
"Well, I've been – ahem – you know – with my…"
"With your family, yes. And James's been with his new family, and everyone else is with their families, and of course I'm going to be alone. What is it that you want me to do all day, Remus?" Sirius took a noisy sip, then strolled to the sofa, where he flopped down and patted the cushion beside him.
Trying to avoid the piles of discarded presents on the floor, Remus made his way over and took a seat beside him, taking the tiniest of tiny sips, only to be polite.
"You could have read the book I bought you," he said.
"Death Omens: What To Do When You Know The Worst Is Coming," Sirius recited. "Very funny, that. Had a picture of me on the front cover."
"I know it did. That's why I bought it for you."
"Thanks. I did have a flick through it. I'm seeing death omens in my teacups now." He threw his head back and laughed, and took another drink, and then shifted in his seat, propping himself up with an elbow and his arm slung round the back of the sofa. He lifted a leg, planting his knee in the crevice between the cushions and apparently unaware that his foot was resting on Remus' leg. "Spectral dogs and burning crosses and trees shaped like roosters. Maybe you'll eat me next full moon, eh?"
"Mm," said Remus. "Nice socks."
"What? Oh. Yes." They had little Christmas puddings on them. "Present from my cousin Narcissa. Wonderful woman, Narcissa, always knows just what I want…" He drained his glass. Remus said nothing. He hated Sirius at times, because his friend could be downright miserable when he took a notion to be, and Remus could do nothing at all to stop him. "I hear she's had a kid now," said Sirius.
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. Drake or Dirk or something."
"How very lovely," said Remus.
"Not really."
"Ah. Had you a nice Christmas?"
"No."
"Oh."
"You?"
"It wasn't bad."
"Oh. Have you seen James and Lily?"
"Yes," said Remus. "I popped in to see them earlier. Little Harry certainly seemed to be having a ball, what with all the new toys…" He smiled a little, slowly.
"I bought him a broomstick," said Sirius. "Did he like that?"
"He did," said Remus, his smile widening. "Very much. Haven't you been round?"
Sirius made a hmm-ing sort of noise and reached for the bottle of brandy and muttered something about wanting to give James time with his family.
"He would have appreciated you dropping by," said Remus.
"Well, I didn't," said Sirius, pouring another glass and slurping it. "I would have appreciated him calling dropping by, what with me being on my own and all, but he didn't, did he?"
"I suppose he must have wanted some time with his family, then," said Remus, suppressing a smile. Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Didn't he invite you to dinner with them?"
"Yes, he did, but if he thinks I'm spending my Christmas with him and his wife and his baby just because I've nowhere else to go he's another thought coming."
"I see. It's a matter of dignity."
"Yes. It is."
"So you decided to stay here, instead, and drink too much and eat an entire chicken by yourself."
"And countless boxes of chocolates."
"I see."
"I never liked Lily, anyway."
Remus tried not to laugh. Despite Sirius' occasional spells of depression, he was unable to maintain them convincingly, and after a time it became apparent he was being miserable purely for the sake of being miserable. "Didn't you?"
"No. She's very beautiful, but she's… How do I put it tastefully…? It's an unfortunate sort of beauty, she's… she's very attractive and I don't think James… I don't think James is all that attractive at all."
"No?"
"No, I'm much better-looking."
"Oh, I see."
"I don't think Harry is James'."
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, Sirius, because you're drunk, and I know you know I know that any fool could see how alike James Harry is."
"'Cept for his eyes," said Sirius. "Lily's eyes. You're right. They're a lovely couple. I wish I was them."
"I'm sorry you were alone," said Remus softly.
Sirius looked into his glass, where the last drop of brandy lay like liquid gold, and drained it, and took his arm from the back of the sofa and put his feet back on the floor and said, "It doesn't matter."
"Sirius—"
"Christmas is just like any other day of the year, except you have to wear stupid hats." He pulled the paper crown from his head. "You should be with your family, if that's what you want. I don't begrudge you that. I had fun, anyhow. I chased squirrels in the snow."
"Well, that's something."
"Yeah. You want another drink?"
"No, I—" Remus looked to his still-full glass, which he was holding rather self-consciously. "I haven't quite finished this one yet."
"Ah," said Sirius, lifting the bottle himself. "Well, I'll have another, if you don't mind…"
"No, go ahead," said Remus, watching him. "I should probably leave you to it… I'll come round tomorrow evening, when you're sober, okay? James will probably want to come as well." Sirius seemed to ignore him. "I'll tell him to bring little Harry, and you can see how much he loved your present, alright?" Sirius grunted, though Remus wasn't sure if it was in response, or if it was simply a noise he wanted to make. "I'll write you a note," he sighed, reaching into the pockets of his cloak and pulling out a quill.
He searched the coffee table for something suitable to write on, and found the back of an old flyer for deals on broomstick polish. He scribbled a message reminding tomorrow's Sirius about their arrangements, and stood, crossing the room and propping it up on the mantelpiece. "There you are," he said, turning. "Lest you forget. I really ought to go now."
Sirius had stood up, too, with his glass still in his hand.
"Goodbye," he said, taking a step forward and spreading his arms. Remus hugged him somewhat tentatively. "Thank you, for coming… It was very thoughtful of you."
"My pleasure," said Remus, though it hadn't really been.
Sirius patted his friend on the back, ran a hand through his hair, patted his head, and planted a kiss on his lips.
"Ah." Remus took a step backwards. Sirius smelt and tasted very much like what he was drinking.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It was very forward of me. I love you."
"Sirius—?"
"I mean, I mean." Sirius waved a hand. "You mean a lot to me. I—Thank you for coming."
He turned his back on Remus and shuffled a few steps away, head down. Remus watched, dubiously. When it became apparent Sirius intended to say no more, Remus said, "A pleasure. Tomorrow, then? Don't worry about trying to remember anything – I've written you a note."
Sirius grunted again, perhaps in answer, perhaps not.
"Goodbye, then," said Remus, and swiftly made his exit. He was hoping, of course, that Sirius would not remember anything of their conversation. He was not sure how drunk exactly his friend was, and he was not sure if the kiss he had given him was meant to be as it had seemed, or if it was just born from friendship – but it made Remus feel slightly uncomfortable. He tried not to think about it, or taste the brandy on his lips, as he strode past Sirius' motorcycle parked in the garden, and Disapparated.
Sirius, meanwhile, flopped onto the sofa and began to sing a song to himself. He didn't know the words and he wasn't sure of the tune, but it made him think of Christmas and first kisses, and, he supposed, the loveliness of the whole thing. He wasn't sure what he'd meant by the kiss either, but loveliness was lovely and that was that. He smiled to himself, and hummed tunelessly. It had been a long time since he'd thought about anything lovely.