Remus hates being very drunk. When Remus is very drunk, his filter works about as good as Sirius', and he says whatever he wants, which he really would rather not do. He doesn't even think it's fun the way everyone else does. Being very drunk means there is a possibility of throwing up and, above all, Remus hates throwing up. He is, however, now very drunk. So very, very drunk.

He is lying on his back in front of the fire because the floor was warm there. He can hear the remnants of the students who haven't yet passed out or stumbled back to their dorms making their way from the common room around him. He shuts his eyes against the noisy bustling and listens for a moment. Someone bangs their head on the way out the portrait hole. Someone opens the door to the wrong dormitory and receives a shriek in response. Cheesy muggle Christmas music plays from the record player in the corner. Someone thuds to the ground next to him.

"'lo," Sirius says.

"I am drunk," Remus says.

"'Course you are, tosser. You drank more than me."

"No," Remus says. "No one drank more than you." He peeks an eye open now and glances over at Sirius in a rosy alcohol-tinged haze. Sirius' long hair is all over from his drunken night of partying, and his shirt is unbuttoned just one button too far so that Remus can see enough of his chest to make his stomach jump into his throat. Sirius' torn jeans always ruin Remus, so he tries not to look, but ever the glimpse out of the corner of his eye of the shredded gray denim hugged tightly to every curving muscle in Sirius' legs makes Remus sigh breathlessly.

"You okay?"

"I'm good."

"You're wasted, is what you are, Moony," Sirius says, reaching over to thread his fingers into Remus' hair.

"Hmm," Remus answers. He tilts his head into Sirius' hand like a puppy.

"Ridiculous," Sirius says affectionately. Remus peeks up at his face. His black-lined silver eyes are hazy and red, and his cheeks glow from the alcohol. Every dumb detail, Remus thinks, makes him look so alive. Remus never looks alive. Remus is always making a face like he'd rather be somewhere else. "Are you drunk thinking?" Sirius asks, brushing his curtain of black hair from his face.

"Little bit," Remus says. "You're very pretty."

Sirius looks at him skeptically for a moment before he begins a fit of barking laughter, his back hunching over from the force of it. "Thanks, Moony," he says with a grin once it's over, and Remus laughs, too, and Sirius' fingers begin to massage his scalp.

"Hmm," he murmurs happily. "Little to the right."

"I swear, you're worse than me when you're drunk. I'm part dog, Moony."

"Me too," Remus insists. "Wolves are dogs."

Sirius makes a low howling noise and Remus makes an answering one until James yells at them to shut up, at which point they fall into each other laughing. Sirius' wisps of black hair tickle Remus' cheeks when he leans over, and Remus grins up at his shiny silver eyes.

"I want more eggnog," he says.

"Absolutely not," Remus says, or rather tries to say, but what comes out is a bit more like "Asoblutely not," and then he looks at Sirius, a bit confused.

"You are a mess," Sirius tell him.

"Eh."

Sirius tsks at him and pulls his head into his lap. Remus scoots closer to facilitate this. Sirius' lap is warm, and his fingers rub Remus' scalp with gentle persistence that could lull Remus to sleep if things stayed still too long. "What'd you get up to tonight?"

"Nothing," Remus says. "Had some eggnog."

Sirius snorts, then pauses thoughtfully. "Made out with that blonde Hufflepuff from our Defense class. She kept going on about how bad she felt, cheating on her boyfriend like that."

"Oh, Sirius..."

"What she doesn't know is that her boyfriend was down on his knees in front of me a few nights ago."

Remus laughs despite himself, and Sirius grins, looking quite pleased with himself.

"You never even try to pull, Moony."

"You do more than enough to make up for it."

"Not properly, though."

"What do you mean, not properly?"

"I never shag them, like. Girls always want relationships first."

"Maybe that's what you need." Remus tells him, turning onto his side and propping his head up with his elbow. A lock of light brown hair falls into his eyes. An alarm goes off in his head that he might be being less than subtle, but Sirius is looking at him and it feels nice, which is a motivation he always regrets when sober, but he presses on, peering uncertainly into Sirius' eyes.

"For what?" Sirius says after a minute, pushing Remus' hair out of his eyes. Remus' eyes flutter shut as the long fingers come near. "To get between us all? I don't want some bird hunting all over for me all the time. They never let you spend time with your friends or anything."

"That's horrible," Remus says. "You can't talk about girls like that," he adds without much conviction. "And what about blokes?"

Sirius shrugs one shoulder noncommittally, his eyes focused on some spot above Remus. His hair, Remus realizes after a minute, and the shaggy fringe falls back in front of his field of view.

"You need a haircut," Sirius says instead.

"A bit," Remus answers. "Could be our New Year's resolutions, I'll get a haircut and you'll stop asking everything that moves to shag you."

"Eh."

"You're horrible," Remus says contentedly. His eyes sink closed as he shifts to lay his head against Sirius' leg.

"Tired?"

"Just glad everyone's gone." He peeks one eye open to glance up at Sirius. "Do you know," he begins, "I'm kind of jealous of the way you just know who you want to shag and you're, what, confident, I guess."

"I almost threw up when I told Prongs."

Remus opens both of his eyes to look up at Sirius' half-smile. Sirius' fingers move to push his bangs out of his face again. "Really?"

"Yeah," Sirius answers, running his nails over Remus' scalp. "Called me a ponce, too, the wanker, and laughed for a good ten minutes over the look on my face."

"Should have told me first," Remus says. "I wouldn't do that. You're a bit, a bit blurry around the edges."

Sirius smiles fondly at Remus, who squints a bit to make it out. "I know, Moony."

"I mean sometimes blokes are attractive," Remus says, and Sirius laughs, twirling a few strands of Remus' hair around his fingers. He presses on. "I don't, you know, think purposely that I'd like to snog someone who's, you know, male, but then sometimes there's that... and it wouldn't be, you know. I could go either way."

"You're babbling, Moony," Sirius says fondly.

Remus looks up at Sirius. His gaze reminds Sirius a bit of a six year old's. "Have you ever been attracted to one of us?"

Sirius's face turns red. Remus is fairly fascinated with the rapid rate with which color spreads across his cheeks. "Well," he says. "It's not. You can't, because you lot aren't, you know, inclined that way."

Remus raises an eyebrow.

"Well, I didn't know, you know. Before now."

"I'd shag you."

Sirius makes a strangled noise. His fingers freeze in Remus' hair.

"Are you okay?"

"Moony," he says. "Why- What?"

"Well," he says, his voice steady as he looks thoughtfully away from Sirius' stunned expression. "Everyone wants to shag you. You're attractive and all that."

"Aren't you a, you know, you haven't, yet? And you'd want me... me, to be your, well, first?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Remus says logically.

Sirius' hands begin to rub at Remus' scalp again. "You're mad. Especially drunk. I'm not sure if it's wrong for me to fuck you if we're both drunk. I think you're drunker."

"What?"

"Really. Are you just saying that 'cause you're drunk?"

"No," Remus answers, scratching at his neck.

"Fuck," Sirius says, and he leans over and tries to kiss Remus, and his nose bumps into Remus' chin, but fuck.

"Did you just make my first kiss upside down?"

"Fuck. Sit up."

So he does, swaying a bit as his weight shifts. Sirius holds his shoulders to keep him upright and then leans in and presses his lips to Remus'.

Remus' entire existence feels like a glowing warmth in Sirius' presence. He's vividly aware of every inch their bodies are touching: there's their knees, and Remus' fingers against the small of his back, and his fingers digging into Remus' shoulder, and then his other hand burrowed against Remus' scalp, and his face feels hot but Remus seems to take calmly to it, nudging his tongue into Sirius' mouth with a cool persistence. Sirius feels like he might be going a little crazy. Remus' fingers move against his back. A shiver runs up his spine.

"You're insane," is what Sirius says against Remus' lips, because he feels like his entire existence is slowly burning and Remus' eyes are icy brown when they flick open to look at Sirius.

"Is it always like that? Only I wish someone had told me because I would've done it earlier."

"Remus, you knob," he said, laughing warmly. "How long have you known?"

"Really known or just kind of had an idea?"

Sirius grins like a little kid and Remus tilts his head, and he looks so, well, Sirius wants to say adorable, right then that he kisses him again, and Remus' fingers bury into his back again, and their noses bump gently as Remus' open mouth spreads hot, flowing lava over Sirius' sense of awareness.

"Can we go upstairs?" Remus asks on an exhale just as they pull away. His breath hits Sirius like a wave of heat, and he sounds so fucking innocent that Sirius' heart thuds in response, and it registers with him for a moment, watching Remus' cold expression, that he is so very fucked, but instead he reaches for Remus' hand and, twining their fingers together, breathes, "Yeah."

Remus' fingers twitch in his grasp as they weave through the last of the stragglers. They move slowly, and Sirius has to dart an arm out to steady Remus several times, but Remus doesn't even seem to notice. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a nice arse?"

Yes, they have, but he's never blushed. He glances over at Remus, who is looking at him curiously. "Thank you, Moony."

Remus' slender hips bump into Sirius', and then Sirius is thinking about those hips and Remus' lovely scarred stomach and every inch of Remus' skin that he might see, and then his own skin feels too tight.

He pushes open the dormitory door, and Remus winks at him, and he feels like he's suddenly being consumed by his desire to touch Remus everywhere, to get Remus into his bed and fall asleep next to each other, and he's never wanted that from anyone before, but now it fills his being, flowing out through the fingertips that pull Remus by the hand to his bed.

"I don't know how this works," Remus says as he climbs up next to Sirius.

"I'll show you eventually, if you want," Sirius murmurs, tugging him closer. He wants Remus' chest against his, wants to feel Remus' hips and his legs intertwined with his own. "Maybe when you'll remember the next morning."

"I'll remember," he insists, and Sirius laughs softly, nipping at Remus' earlobe.

"No," he says. "No, you're pretty drunk."

"But I want you."

Sirius feels those three words somewhere deep in his chest. "We can do other stuff," he promises, and with a flick of his wand, the curtains shut around them. He casts a nonverbal lumos, and the light from the tip of his wand breaks through the darkness, creating shadows of Remus' curved features against his cheekbones. "Come here," he says, and he tugs Remus flush against himself. Remus' hips find his own like a magnet, and Sirius kisses at his neck as Remus' thin fingers slip between them to unbutton his jeans. Sirius wriggles out of his own with the anticipation of having Remus' bare thighs flush against his own boiling in his blood. "Fuck," he murmurs, kicking them onto the floor. He helps Remus, who seems to have lost some of his finer muscle coordination, and half sits up to tug his pants down. "Lift your hips, babe," he says, and Remus does, and as he pulls the denim over Remus' hips he sees the rather notable tent in Remus' boxers, and he doesn't think he's ever been this hard in his life.

Sirius is lying back down before Remus' jeans have even hit the floor. "C'mere," he repeats, and then he presses his hips to Remus', and it feels like electricity zipping through his nervous system. "Mmh?"

Remus grinds their hips together, and Sirius makes a soft noise in the back of his throat as they slide together. Remus has a look of intense concentration on his face. Sirius leans forward to kiss it away.

Sirius thinks he may spontaneously combust. Remus' hips rock against his in languid movements, and their cocks slide together through their thin boxers each time. Remus' fingers wind up digging into his ass to pull him closer.

"Fuck," he mumbles again. Remus' breathing is heavy in his ear. He doesn't think there'll ever be enough air in the world for this. He feels like his body's in flames. Remus slides a thigh between Sirius'. He wants to touch Remus', to slide a hand into his boxers and discover every inch of him, but he also wants to remember it with vivid details, and more than that he wants it to mean something, which scares the fucking shit out of him.

"Sirius," Remus hisses, and Sirius doesn't think he's ever heard anything quite as amazing. Remus' hips move sporadically now, and Sirius can feel his cock throb against his own, and that's what pushes him over, whimpering Remus' name as Remus sends his back in reply.

There is a silent moment after, when they both lie there with their arms around each other, the sounds of their breathing filling up the stagnant air.

"Fuck," Sirius says.

"Shut up," Remus answers. "Fuck."

Sirius laughs, and Remus kisses his jaw, and he wonders if it'll ever happen again.

"I'm tired," Remus says, and Sirius is sure he is, so he kisses his forehead gently.

"Goodnight," he murmurs, and Remus burrow his head into Sirius' neck, and they fall asleep tangled into one matted mess of boy.

Remus wakes up with a thin beam of light in his eyes and a pounding headache. Groaning, he reaches up to rub at his eyes, then reaches to pull the curtains shut before remembering that his bed does not face the right way to have the sun wake him up at fuck o'clock in the morning.

"You okay?" a groggy voice asks in his ear, and he jumps, but in hindsight he probably should've noticed the arm on his waist.

"Sirius?" he asks, sitting up. "What the fuck?"

Sirius' eyes open, and they scan Remus' face with wide hope before freezing over. "Do you remember last night?" he asks.

"I remember drinking too much eggnog in front of the fireplace? And then you sat with me after everyone left."

"That's it?"

Remus is silent, because he's only seen the muscles in Sirius' neck twitch that way once before, and that was after he was disowned, and he can't imagine what could've happened of that magnitude. "Don't be upset," he says, because it's all he can think of. "I'm sorry.

"Are you... do you like men?" Sirius asks, and Remus' face pales. "You told me that last night and you... I," he says, and then gestures between them frantically.

Remus is silent for a long moment. Sirius' palms start to sweat. "I'm not your fuck buddy," he says after a moment. "And I'm not going to be just because I'm attracted to men."

"God, Moony, I wouldn't- that's not what I want."

Remus rubs his temples. It's quiet for long enough to make Sirius start to twitch. Silent drunk Remus is comforting; silent angry Remus is a terrifying thing. "What, then?"

"Well... I want you," he says, because it's what Remus said to him last night and he is trying so hard not to be sappy.

Remus looks at him for a long moment. Sirius scratches at his shoulder nervously. Remus nibbles at his lip for a moment and then asks, "Really?"

"Yeah," Sirius answers. "You. All of you and whatnot."

"All of me? I don't even want all of me."

"Don't make this into a joke, you wanker," Sirius complains, but Remus is smiling, so he can't really be mad.

"Well," he says, lying back down. "Was it at least good last night?"

"Was what?" Sirius asks, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Whatever we did," Remus says, closing his eyes as he burrows back into the pillow. "You're the one who remembers."

"Was it good?"

"Yes, Sirius."

"It was bloody amazing," Sirius answers. Remus feels something cold press into his neck as the mattress shifts. His eyes fly open before he realize it's Sirius' nose. "We just kind of rutted against each other like, well, you know, drunk idiots. But it was like... you know?"

"Poetic, pads."

Sirius' lips press to his neck. His entire being feels lighter than he can ever remember. "I'm not joking, Moony."

"I know." He pauses. Something warm and cold at once flutters down his spine as Sirius kisses just behind his earlobe. "Do you want-" he stops, because he doesn't know what to say there. A kiss? A snog? To go to Hogsmeade? A lifetime together?

"Yes," Sirius breathes, and the warmth in Remus' stomach spreads.

Why yes, I am posting this on December 27th

I also might have a new year's eve one-shot type thingy up. We'll see how that goes?

You can stop reading here and just review if you want. Usually I have dumb dopey comments at the bottoms of my fics but I wanna talk/rant at the end of this one a little bit. This is personal kind of and feel free to not read it's like, unrelated and about me and if you haven't read any of my other stuff/don't feel like you have any idea who I am then don't bother I guess

I know this sounds stupid, but I've changed a lot since the time I got the idea for this fic, which was probably around early November. I'm not going to talk about specific little things but I will say that I Grew Up a lot, which kind of happens slowly and all at once and then slowly again when you're 16, but the last month was a big growing up month for me. I got my second job (like, ever, I mean. Not at once? I don't know if this makes sense. The first once was temporary and I had it for like a month) and kind of learned how to have money, which is not the kind of thing you think you have to learn but you do, and I lost a friend and then realized that if you don't say something, nothing will change. My depression is also getting bad for the first time since 8th grade, and instead of this making me want to write more and ignore everything else, it's making me do the opposite. I find myself thinking less and less about my own story lines and I can't sleep even though I'm tired all the time, but I can't fix that by writing like I used to, because stuff like what you just read comes out, and it's obviously not very good. So it's not even that I just don't like writing that much anymore; it also doesn't really work for me anymore. And this used to be what I wanted to do in college, creative writing. But now it's like... ? You know? Like I used to be unsure and now I'm sure, just sure that I don't want to do it. And that's scary and different because writing has been a huge part of who I am since I was 11, and now it's less and less and I feel like I have no idea who I am, and I think this is part of the depression but a lot of the time I feel like I'm living more than I'm thinking about living, which is really scary for someone like me who's used to being a Charlie (like from Perks of Being a Wallflower in case you don't get the reference which like wow go read the book bc it's A++) and watching life like it's a movie. Because it just happens when you just do it, and it doesn't feel right. Do you know? Because in typical teenage drama fashion I feel like the only answer I ever hear to that question is "no."

Anyway, maybe if you encourage me and tell me other people suck more than I do it will make me feel better and I'll stop staring at my ceiling at four in the morning and start writing.

This is just a side note but has anyone tried the proofread feature on because it's a joke