Remus watches as his best friend slowly wakes up, groaning from what must be a massive hangover.
"So, how drunk were you last night?" Sirius lifts his head to look up at him before looking over himself, around the positively trashed room in which Peter was still passed out on the floor drooling, and then groans and flops back down on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the evil sunlight intent on making his morning worse.
"Well, I still have my pants on, So not that drunk?" He feels Remus' amusement and looks over to see a rather smug smirk on his face.
"Those aren't your pants."
"What?!" Sirius sits up, far too quickly, and immediately pales. Remus is at his side in a moment with a bucket and a glass of water, holding his hair back as he throws up everything he doesn't remember drinking or eating. And seriously, was that a clown cake? Sirius groans, resting his head on the side of the bucket.
"I'll go down and get some breakfast for everyone. Drink the water in small sips and maybe take a nap," Remus directs gently as he moves to close the curtains and block out the evil light. As he moves to the door, he kicks Peter in the side to wake him up.
"It wasn't me, it was Sirius!" Peter declares upon waking, Sirius glares at him, throwing a shoe at his head.
"Some bloody friend you are, wanker." Peter groans, rubbing at his forehead before getting up and heading to the bathroom. Sirius looks up to see Remus leaving the room and remembers the question burning in his mind.
"Moony?"
"Yes, Pads?" He asks, turning back around.
"Whose pants are these?" Remus smirks again.
"I do believe you'll find they belong to the person you fell in bed with last night." He leaves the room, Sirius frowning after him. Why would Remus be so weird about that? Sirius has drunken sex all the time, this is nothing new.
He gets up, pulling off the pants to get a better look and finds the owner's name written on the tag. Sirius smiles dopily at it, laying back on the bed, hands behind his head, his smile morphing into a smirk. He glances back at the trousers now on the floor beside his bed, folded so that he could still read the tag.
Remus J. Lupin