James and Peter had left yesterday to go on family trips with their folks and Remus was thrilled that Sirius elected to stay behind and stay for a few more days. He assured Remus that spending more time at the Lupin house was leagues better than spending it at Grimmauld Place where he'd try to lock himself in his room and ignore the sounds of Regulus whacking it. While the imagery was not altogether pleasant, Remus truly appreciated the gesture.

He was in the kitchen making lemonade, watching Sirius outside through the window. He couldn't get the other day out of his head—when he'd caught Sirius staring at him at the beach. He didn't understand why Sirius did it in the first place; it wasn't like he was seeing anything he hadn't seen before. They'd been housemates for some six years now, so privacy was an ill-afforded luxury. Beyond that, Remus felt that he lacked any truly remarkable features that would warrant such unabashed staring.

Sirius, thought…Sirius was worth looking at, everyone knew that. His was a beauty so classic and so timeless that it took his breath away on occasion. Like now, watching him help his father with yard work, suffering through it without complaint even though they were forced to do it the Muggle way thanks to the area Remus's family lived in. The sun, when it deigned to come out from behind the clouds, lit up his face beautifully. When it managed to sneak up on him and hit his eyes, for a moment they glowed like freshly polished silver and his lashes kissed his flushed cheek and his brows furrowed to meet above his nose when he squinted against it. As soon as the sun passed, Sirius's eyes would go back to a normal, mortal grey but they were still enchanting nonetheless.

Despite the heavy lifting the two men were doing at the time, Sirius still had a white-toothed smile on his face as he cracked up with Remus's father in an effort to make the time pass by. Remus found Sirius's expressions to be wonderful, as changing as the wind across the sea, each one unique and as dramatic as the last. Remus could usually tell what Sirius was thinking by the set of his mouth, an ability he was embarrassed to admit, even to himself. It betrayed that he'd spent a great deal of time studying the mouth in question, but it was true nonetheless.

It was a perfect cupid's bow, not mutilated by teeth like Remus's own thin beak, and the right shade of rose to be beautiful but remain manly. When it split open into a smile and Sirius would laugh, the world laughed with him, swept away by the joy in the simple sound, in the mirth of such a handsome individual; the world begged to be included in on the joke, to be a part of something he took pleasure in.

Remus envied him frequently for his good looks, but was not proud of it. James was handsome, too, but without the confidence that followed him around like a chained pet he would be only slightly above average. Sirius's attractiveness was one hundred percent due to him being just that good-looking. Sure, he was confident, but without that he would still portray that tortured, dark prince. His face was as if carved from polished marble, a Grecian masterpiece given breath and brought to life.

He supposed he was most jealous of how flawless Sirius's skin was. Good breeding kept that pale face clear from blemishes and there was neither scar, not freckle, nor mole anywhere to be seen on the other boy's body (except perhaps around some naughtier bits which Remus was not privy to at this time, but that was all speculation). Even now after a week's worth of time out in the open sun, Sirius's face was only mildly flushed and the only distraction was a week's growth of beard, a signal that they were indeed becoming men. The Lupins had razors to spare, of course—John Lupin was a clean-shaven adult male after all—but Sirius was ridiculously terrified of slitting his throat open with "those unsafe Muggle torture devices" and decided to let his "face fur" grow until either he was as "furry as Moony" or until he could obtain a magic razor.

Most sixteen-year-old boys looked ridiculous with that much beard on their face, Remus included, but not Sirius. For some reason it did not detract from his looks, only added a dangerous, rouge-like element to it that Remus was sure the girls would find ever-so-attractive and Sirius would be begged by his legion of females to never shave again. Remus simply liked it for amusement purposes, as Sirius had spent a good thirty minutes trying to get all of the sand out of it earlier that morning. In general though, Remus preferred seeing the elegant lines of his jaw unhindered.

As envious as he was of Sirius's dashing good looks, he supposed he didn't know what he would do with all the attention he would get if he looked half as good as Sirius. His main goal at Hogwarts was to keep attention away from himself (a difficult, almost impossible task given his friends' proclivities for mischief) and succeed in academics. Remus was very aware that he was not going to win any beauty contests even if he wasn't a mangled bit of skin and bone.

He absent-mindedly squeezed a few more lemons into the pitcher, purposely taking as long as possible in order to keep his thoughts lined up at a safe distance.

Sirius's posture was impeccable, too, especially when compared to Remus's father's. John Lupin was just a mixed-blood wizard of no grand line or breeding and slouched like most common men did. Sirius Black, however, had posture and movement etiquette drilled into him from day one and even that month in third year of him deliberately slouching and dragging his feet could not change that. His slowly-growing frame (he was a hair's width shorter than James who was three inches shorter than Remus still) was supported by muscles because he'd seen how even skinnier Remus got when he shot up. And, as Sirius put it, he refused to be "a skinny stick like Remus", but in the most polite way. He'd put on muscle that was not sport-earned like some of the older boys', but functional and diverse in their use, lending him the strength to clear up fallen logs from last night's storm.

Remus certainly did not miss how his biceps bulged when he hauled one onto his shoulder, oh no.

He followed the curve of his bicep to study the line of his back when suddenly he found himself looking into piercing grey eyes filled with confident and teasing clarity of his actions. Remus flushed and looked away suddenly, knowing he'd been found out. Great. He busied himself with finishing the lemonade, grabbed the glasses with ice, and rushed out the door before his father came to investigate his timeliness.

When he reached the yard he managed to summon up some Gryffindor courage after passing his father his glass of lemonade and looked Sirius full-on. "I've been staring at you all afternoon."

"Yes."

"And I'm not much inclined to stop, but I will try to blink as to not raise suspicion. Does that sound fair?"

"Why, Mr. Moony, I suppose that does and I agree to your terms," Sirius responded with a sly grin. "But only if you stop lounging and help us out—you're stronger than the both of us and you know it and you were making lemonade? Merlin, man!" The last bit was much louder than the first in an effort to keep Mr. Lupin from getting too suspicious about them whispering.

Even as his dad clapped a hand on his shoulder, Remus shook his head with a soft smile, set down the pitcher, and resumed his work on moving logs and rocks, occasionally sneaking a glance at Sirius when he could manage it and secretly pleased when he caught the other boy staring back.

He was ever so happy Sirius stayed.