Disclaimer: I don't own it.
Warning: Slash. No likey, no lighty…or ready….or whatever…
A/N: The bit where they all wake up the morning after is sort of inspired by the British comedy, London Irish. Seriously, you guys need to watch it, because it's frickin' hilarious and totally wrong, but that's what makes it so funny XD
Well Ain't This Just Peachy?
The seventh year boys' dormitory was unusually full, what having twice its normal number of students occupying the four beds. A record was still spinning on the player on the writing desk from the night before, everyone having passed out before they'd had the opportunity to stop it, hitching every other beat on The Who's Won't Get Fooled Again. The smell of alcohol still hung heavily in the air through the dorm and the adjoining bathroom, causing several of the comatose bodies to stir and groan.
The previous night had been the first of the week leading up to their leaving ceremony from Hogwarts. This, of course, had been the indication for all of the seventh years (and anyone else invited) to start celebrations. The Marauders, usually the ones to throw tower-wide parties for their most beloved house, had decided that they would start of the seven days of celebrations with a private party for only them and their respective girlfriends. They would have six other days to get the rest of their housemates drunk off their arses and naked down in the courtyard playing manhunt.
So the 'morning after' their first night of partying, each of the Marauders were feeling more than a little worse for wear. Their girlfriends weren't doing any better either. Marlene, Peter's other half, could be located somewhere in the doorway. In, as in, in the door, her upper body lying on the floor in the dorm and her lower half out on the staircase. The door was either cutting through her or going around her, but the others had been laughing too hard to find out or try to help. Sirius' and Remus' girlfriends, by the names of Jasmin and Daisy, were both out like a light on Remus' bed dressed in Dumbledore's purple robes and McGonagall's favourite hat.
Peter could be found wedged under of the legs of the writing desk, the leg quite uncomfortable dug into his stomach. But he had enough fat there for it not to be too much of a problem, so that was okay. What wasn't so 'okay', was the discovery of a very happy second year girl lying beside him under the desk, staring at him as he tried to get his wits about him through his hangover. The music wasn't doing any good, either, but he couldn't lift the desk up to get up.
"Did we…?" Peter asked fearfully. The girl simply stared back as Peter silently panicked over the possibility of being a seventeen year old paedophile, even though he should have known his friends would have never allowed him to do such a thing.
Meanwhile, James was opening his eyes to the ceiling. Which was a lot closer than he had remembered it ever being before. But then he realised that the ceiling was orange and that he couldn't move. Starting to panic, he trashed his legs around for a moment before he was freed, Lily's unimpressed face staring down at him.
"You were stuck inside a giant traffic cone." She explained flatly.
"What's a traffic cone?"
Instead of answering, she leaned over far enough to stop the music before slumping back on the bed with a low groan that most likely translated as, 'why the hell did I drink so much of that stuff and why am I handcuffed to the bed?'
The sudden lack of background noise startled Sirius awake. He jumped and then flinched, lifting a hand gingerly to his head and trying to shield his eyes from the offensive sunlight flooding through the high window. Seriously, whose bloody idea had it been to make the sun so ridiculously bright in the morning? Whatever he had drunk last night, he shouldn't have drunk. But that was redundant – he would have known that last night, anyway. He could barely lift his head to ascertain his location and his body felt like a whole other person was weighing him down, making him numb. Moving his hand slightly, Sirius discovered that he was in the bathroom.
In the bath, to be precise.
Naked.
Fabulous.
He blew his hair off his face and dropped his hand down onto the side of the bath, directing his gaze to the wall as he figured out how to get up without falling over and killing himself by slipping and hitting his head – something he was prone to doing when he was hung over. Something he considered a valuable skill. The clumsiness, not killing himself. Except it wasn't, really. Gods, hangovers turned Sirius' brain inside out.
Pushing up with his shoulder against the insides of the bath, he tried to get out, but then – "shit-fucking arse-hat of a bath!" – ended up slipping and right back where he'd started, only with a few more bruises in the inventory.
Sirius sighed, deigning himself to waiting until someone came looking for him. He did wish he had something with which to cover himself up, though. It wasn't exactly warm in there, either, so if someone did come in and see him lying there, they weren't going to be all that impressed with what they were seeing. Bloody freezing cold bath, making his dick look like a cocktail sausage.
His eyes drifted up the ceiling again, more focused the more he made his way into the world of the fully conscious, and did a double take. Sirius frowned when he focused on the patterns on the white expanse above him. They were red, like they were made with one of Jasmin's lipsticks, and when he squinted, the fuzziness disappeared and he realised that they were words, in his own handwriting.
You did something bad last night.
"Glad that's cleared things up." Sirius muttered sarcastically. Did he honestly have no brain on alcohol? It wasn't like he was asking for a dissertation, just a bit more detail to go on. 'Something bad' could have been anything from having spilt a drink on his shirt, to having murdered and buried a student.
He must have spoken louder than he had thought, because as he spoke, he heard a groan from somewhere else in the bathroom. Sirius started again and looked around – half expecting some sort of monster – to find none other than Remus Lupin sat in the sink. Yes, in the sink. His arse (Sirius craned his neck to check and, yup, he was buck naked), was in the place where they did their teeth and washed their faces. Which brought him to their next issue – why was Sirius alone, naked, in the bathroom with Remus, also naked?
"Details, details." Sirius sighed to himself, before raising his voice to address his friend, "You okay, Moony?"
Said werewolf groaned again and lifted his hands to cover his face briefly. When he looked back up, Sirius read from his expression that he remembered just as little of the previous night as he did himself. Blinking a lot, Remus opened his mouth and failed to speak twice, before clearing his throat and succeeding for the lucky third time, "Why am I naked, uh, in the sink?"
"To that, my dear Moony, I have no answer." Sirius answered with a flourish towards his own bare body in the bath.
"Right." Remus nodded, looking around for something. Appearing to give up on his search, he jabbed a finger at Sirius, "Don't look, you arse-pirate."
"I'm not the only naked one, Rem." Sirius sniggered closing his eyes anyway. He heard Remus groan again as he presumably heaved himself from the sink followed by a rattle and a heavy sigh. Sirius listened to the other boy pad across the bathroom towards him before he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You can open, now."
"How generous of you." Sirius replied sarcastically, opening his eyes again to find Remus sat beside the bath at such an angle that neither boy could see anything that would make the situation any more awkward than it already was.
"I tried the door." Remus told him, resting his arm along the edge of the bath, his hand nearly meeting Sirius' in the middle, "Locked. I haven't got a clue where our wands have got to."
"Well ain't this just peachy?"
"Do you have any idea of what happened last night?"
"Nope. You?"
"None at all."
Sirius huffed moodily and inhaled deeply before shouting, "PRRROOOOOONNNNGS!"
"What the fuck, Sirius?" Remus hissed, clapping his hands over his ears and then flinching at the sound that made, too. Sirius sniggered at him, earning himself a thwack on the arm.
"Someone has to get us out of here." He shrugged just as there was the sound of someone leaning heavily against the bathroom door on the other side. James' voice could be heard and he sounded…well, shit was really the only word for it.
"What, Padfoot? Honestly, if I come in there and find you dancing around with your—"
"We're locked in!" Sirius shouted over him, casting Remus a sheepish grin, who smirked back at the memory that had been previously labelled as a Moment To Be Never Again Mentioned Under Any Circumstance, Including Torture. Meh, Sirius could push him down the stairs later.
"Oh, for fuck…" James trailed off and sighed. He went silent or a moment, before, "Right, I've got my wand. Remus, any idea of what spells to try?"
"No clue." Remus answered. They listened to James mumbling several spells and then a few combinations, glancing at each other uneasily a couple of times, before resigning themselves to their fate to forever be naked in the bathroom together.
"Sorry, it won't open." James called, confirming their fears, "We're gonna go down to breakfast. Maybe Lily will think of something once she's eaten. See you later."
"What?" Sirius gasped, open-mouthed, "What? You're just gonna leave us here? You bastards!"
"I think he's gone." Remus said calmly.
"TELL JASMIN I'M ALIVE!" Sirius yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth, "I'VE DONE NOTHING TO DESERVE THIS DOUCHEBAGGERY, YOU SHITTING EXCUSE FOR AN ARSING FUCK!"
"Your eloquence astonishes me." Remus observed, ignoring the dirty look Sirius threw him. "Why are you still in the bath? It can't be comfortable."
"Is that an invitation?" Sirius asked suggestively.
"That made no sense, Pads." Remus smirked with a lifted an eyebrow.
"I know," Sirius sighed forlornly, "It's early and I'm hung over. Oh yeah, the bath. I think I'm stuck, but I'm not sure why. Ah…I think I just discovered why I'm stuck."
"Why?" Remus asked, before following Sirius' confused gaze to his feet at the other end, where one of his toes was, quite effectively, lodged in one of the taps. Sirius narrowed his eyes when Remus spluttered before bursting out in hysterics, doubling over as he gasped for breath. Bloody werewolf hadn't even bothered to ask if it hurt. For all he knew, Sirius could lose his toe. What sort of womaniser only had nine toes? Good god, he was never going to be able to shag anyone again – how could he, knowing that when the woman saw his feet, she would either laugh or scream. Merlin, he was destined to be the nine-toed monster until he died, alone and miserable in a bell tower in Paris. Sirius, the bell ringer of Notre Dame.
"What is this fuckery?" Sirius demanded, "How did I even do that? Dear Godric, this can't be my fate! I can't even speak French."
"Calm down," Remus chuckled, wiping a tear away with a finger, "Can you move it at all?"
Sirius stuck his tongue between his teeth and tried to wiggled his big toe, "A little." He looked around the room for something – anything – to help and zeroed in on something in the corner, "Oi, get me that thing. On the plate by the loo."
"The what?" Remus asked with a frown, "Why is there a plate next to the toilet? Is that steak? And custard? That's disgusting, I hope it wasn't one of us who was eating on there."
"The bowl on a stick," Sirius pressed, impatient to have his toe back and escape from a future of ruining his unblemished hands by yanking on ropes to ring bells, "Get it."
"The what?" Remus repeated, emitting a snort of laughter that Sirius didn't appreciate.
"I can't remember what it's called! The. Bowl. On. A. Stick."
"You mean the spoon?" Remus sniggered, getting to his feet to walk around the bath to retrieve the wanted utensil. Sirius watched him, forgetting for a moment that his friend wasn't wearing anything and finding that his eyes automatically homed in on his arse. Sirius blinked, but couldn't physically pull his stare away from the clenching and unclenching motion of Remus' taught buttocks as he crossed the sizable bathroom, feeling his – ahem – parts twitch at the sight. When Remus bent to pick the bowl– err, the spoon, Sirius had to stifle an actual moan.
Like, what in the fucking hell?
Sirius had to pull himself together when Remus turned around. He was naked, for Merlin's sake! Oh, for the love of…Remus turned around, holding up the spoon with a grin, still chuckling at Sirius' name for it, but stopped when he caught Sirius staring at him. Sirius, though – because every god in the universe obviously had it in for him – hadn't the will power to stop looking over the gorgeous body displayed before him; over the scars, the toned muscles, the sharp angles, the large co— wait, gorgeous? Since when, exactly, did Sirius Black, womaniser of Hogwarts, think of other men's bodies as gorgeous. Nope, that didn't matter now. What did matter was the fact that his eyes were on parts of Remus that was making his own part make itself known even more.
"Erm…" Remus said slowly, holding the spoon out to Sirius, "Here's your bowl on a stick."
"Thanks." Sirius mumbled as Remus hurried to sit down again, his body protected by the side of the bath. He leaned forwards, covering himself as he did so, to slide the slim handle of the spoon into the tap and wiggled it. He felt the taps hold on his toe give a little but, to be perfectly honest, he couldn't give a monkey's arse about that. Oh no, not when he had a raging hard on because he randomly decided to ogle his friend's arse. His toe popped out suddenly when he wasn't expecting it, making his heel slam down in the bath.
"Ouch! Shit." Sirius grumbled, rubbing his foot as he inspected his toe. It was a little purple, but fully intact, toenail and all. Remus' hand on the side of the bath made him jump again. Damned random sexual tension.
"You okay?" Remus asked softly. Sirius glanced up and suddenly realised how the other boy's lips turned up at one corner slightly when he trying not to smile and nodded dumbly before shifting his gaze back to his toe again. "And I'm not talking about the toe, Sirius."
Sirius looked up so quickly, he could have sworn he broke his neck. Yep, definitely destined to ring the bell in Notre Dame. Remus was giving him a Look that he only ever gave to Sirius when he knew he was doing Something of Which Moony Wouldn't Approve. Sirius cleared his throat and turned to face Remus, still seated in the bath, and crossed his legs to place his hands inconspicuously in his lap. Hell, he would do everything in his power to pretend that he didn't have an erection, no matter how many times Remus tried to bring it up.
Up.
Merlin help him.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Remus asked, drawing Sirius' attention from his abysmal use of words to the ceiling again, where the words, you did something bad last night, were still taunting him.
"Dunno. It's my handwriting, but I can't remember…" Sirius trailed off with something like a squeak, but was most certainly not a squeak because he did not so such things. The sight of the writing had jogged a certain part of his memory of the previous night. A vision of himself giggling drunkenly as he locked the bathroom door, with some weird spell he'd probably made up on the spot, swam before his eyes, Remus' voice telling him that it was bad and that they shouldn't, in his head. Sirius blinked in the present, remembering pulling Jasmin's lipstick from his pocket (Merlin knew how he had ended up with it), and stretching up on his toes on the edge of the bath to write the reminder on the ceiling.
"What's wrong?" Remus asked suspiciously.
"Nothing." Sirius shook his head vigorously and immediately regretting it, wincing as his head spun and his stomach lurched unpleasantly.
"You squeaked." The werewolf insisted.
"I don't squeak." Sirius scoffed indignantly.
Remus leaned towards him, concerned and another memory came flooding back. Sirius felt his jaw drop as he remembered, staring at Remus through a disbelieving haze. No, seriously, how could that have even happened? They couldn't have drunk that much… Sirius focused again and felt himself harden even more under his hands and decided that he was very much in trouble.
"It can't be that bad." Remus frowned, "Look, I was involved too, so it's not like I'll be able to blame you, if that's what you're worried abo—"
Remus was partly cut off by Sirius' sudden and unexpected lust and need for his friend, but mostly by Sirius' lips pressed against his. It was awkward, what with Sirius half kneeling in the bath and Remus' chest pulled up against the side of the cold tub, but he couldn't find it in him to give a damn so long as Remus' hands kept snaking around his neck like that and his fingers kept knotting in his hair just like that.
Oh yeah, he quite liked the way Remus' mouth moved against his own, too.
The tongue part wasn't all that bad either.
They broke apart with a heady gasp for air, staring at each other. Sirius didn't dare blink, let alone look away, scared that Remus would pull away in disgust and wash his mouth out in the arse-sink. Remus didn't do any such thing though, which only made Sirius' heart beat against his ribcage and his persistent hard on sing Celebrate.
"Well," Remus said, clearing his throat as his lips twitched up on one side. Sirius' eyes darted down to catch the movement before flicking back up to meet his eyes again hopefully, "Nothing like retracing your steps to regain your memory."
Sirius let out a laugh that came out more insane that he would have liked; sort of high pitched and hysterical. But he stopped caring as soon as Remus released him in order to climb into the bath with Sirius before wrapping around him again to snog him silly.
All in all, it was the best hangover Sirius had any recollection of.
The bit where James, Lily, Peter, Marlene, Jasmin, Daisy and some second year kid wrapped around Peter's leg (who looked like she was enjoying herself way too much), burst in with cries of worry and angst…not so great. Oh, their expressions were brilliant and Sirius hoped that the image of their faces would be burned into his memory for a long time to come, but the problem was, Remus' hand never quite finished its job until that night behind a set of hastily closed bed hangings.