This fic was written for Musesfool's Lyric's Challenge (lyric's that were given to me all the way back in March, I might add) on LJ. I had completely forgot about it until yesterday. .!

And sometimes we would spend the night
Just rolling about on a floor
And I remember even though it felt soft at the time
I always used to wake up sore

"Catch" – The Cure

Sirius stumbled and Remus caught him in his arms, losing his balance at the sudden weight. They fell heavily to the cold wooden floor in a cloud of dust, and Sirius let out a series of high-pitched giggles. Remus groaned under his solid weight.

Bloody hell. This happened nearly every week. Sirius and James would sneak out of the castle without a word just to get pissed at some seedy, smoke-filled Muggle pub where ID was seldom ask for. At least James was sober enough to mirror call Remus this time. By the time Remus had found them Sirius was too drunk off his arse to sit up on his own, and James had found a nice field in which to throw up in. Still, James had proved that he was better off than Sirius, and Remus reluctantly let him head back to the castle by broom - weaving and swaying but somewhat in control.

And now Remus was stuck hauling his other stupid, inconsiderate git of a friend through the filthy, mouldy Shrieking Shack in an attempt to sober the idiot up. Really, why must he always be the one having to do this? Next time, Remus thought, stifling the urge to scream and yell in frustration, he was going to bury his two-way mirror at the bottom of his school trunk.

With one hard shove Remus managed to roll Sirius off of him, and stood up. The other boy grunted softly when his head hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Padfoot," Remus puffed, dragging his pickled friend by his muddy sneakers into one of the rooms, lifting him under the arms and dumping him carelessly on a torn up couch, "how much did you bloody drink this time?"

Remus crouched in front of Sirius, eyeing him with scrutiny and vehemently dusting the dark-haired boys' borrowed brown corduroy bellbottoms and red paisley shirt of the dirt and grass he managed to accumulate in the field he and James fell in. The clothes belonged to Remus, as Remus was the only boy of the four friends who owned any decent casual Muggle clothing. They were a little tight across the shoulders and thighs, but Remus didn't mind. In fact, he loved it. Of course, he'd never actually admit that.

Instead he leaned over a little and wrinkled his nose.

"Cor, you stink!"

Sirius looked up with hazy, bloodshot grey eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to focus clearly on his crouched friend. "No I don't," Sirius slurred. "And I only drank a little."

"A little? Smells like you drank the entire bar under the table."

Sirius grinned sloppily and leaned forward, opening his mouth to reply in what would no doubt sound like drunken garble to Remus, but overbalanced instead.

"Argh!" Remus cried as Sirius fell on top of him for the second time that morning, pinning him with all his weight to the hard floor again.

"Hey, you're pretty soft, Moony," Sirius mumbled, squirming to get himself comfortable on top of the other boy. Remus seized up, wide-eyed. Sirius' left thigh was wedged between his legs and his hard knee prodded him in the crotch when he moved. Remus could feel his face warm up and his cock grow hard.

Gods, how embarrassing.

"And warm, too," Sirius continued, "and caring… and… nice," he whispered, warm alcohol-laced breath washing over his face. Remus' breath hitched and Sirius leaned forward, so close that their lips barely brushed. Remus could almost feel the rapid beat of Sirius' heart thudding through his chest.

"Moony… Moony… I…"

"Yes?" Remus whimpered, fighting the urge to close the fractional distance between them and claim those thin, moist lips with his own.

Sirius reached up and shakily, but gently, cupped his cheek in a warm, large palm. "I… I… love… " he trailed off, passing out on Remus' chest.

Remus sighed, disappointed. He ran his left hand gently through the silky black hair and over the broad back, kissing the top of Sirius' head lightly.

"You're always so close to saying it, but you never do," he murmured softly, once again rolling the boy he secretly longed for onto the dust-covered floor and transfiguring his own jacket into a scratchy blanket to cover his prone friend.

Sirius was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.