Wonderful
A shortish nonprofit oneshot written by an American dell.
There are, Sirius thinks quietly to himself one morning, lots of very wonderful things about Remus. There is the way his eyes have dozens of flecks of colors in them and the way his hair shines and the way he moves his fingers so even picking up a piece of bread or writing an essay looks elegant. There is the wonderful way he doesn't mind when Sirius follows him around and doesn't let anyone sit by him, and the way he lets Padfoot rest his head on his knees in the living room late at night, and the way he continues to let Sirius sit slightly behind him even though Sirius has a history of getting bored with polite conversation and starting to nibble Remus' neck or trace Remus' spine with his fingers. There are the wonderful little noises he makes when he's trying to ignore what Sirius is doing and pretend to be fascinated by the uses of some root and the noises he makes when he doesn't have to pretend to be interested in anything but Sirius.
There's the wonderful way he tells Sirius to go back to sleep when he's still tired and lets Sirius nap on his torso while he reads even though he must want to get up and do something from time to time. There's the way he gets on Sirius' motorbike even though he's scared, even if they have nowhere to go, just because Sirius likes the company and the motion. There's the way he lets Sirius keep the motorbike in the hallway of the London flat he agreed to move into even if it meant giving up some cushy job offer at the French Ministry. And those are only the things he did in the last twelve hours or so, which Sirius' brain has yet to get tired of being amazed at and move onto new things.
"Hey," whispers the wonderful boy, as he turns to look at Sirius. "You ready to be awake yet?"
"Mmmm," hums Sirius as he considers, nestling his nose in Remus' shoulder.
The golden-haired boy lifts himself up on his elbows and looks at Sirius, who is now looking at him again. "What're you thinking about?"
You. "Nothing," murmurs Sirius.
The elegant fingers run through his hair and Sirius thinks that it is rather uncouth for someone who turns into a dog from time to time to purr. "Go back to sleep, baby."
Sirius nods slightly, words in his head not quite ready to make it to his mouth yet, and takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around the smaller boy and snuggle closer. "Mmmkay, wonderful."