Author's Note: This is a little ditty I made while in zombie mode about my two favorite characters. I didn't intend for them to be slashy because I prefer to follow canon, but I think they might seem that way a little bit. So I hope you enjoy my attempt at something about Sirius and Remus that isn't angsty!

Oh, and if you think I own the characters (heck someone might have written this idea before) then you, sir, are crazy.

Tell Me A Story

"Tell me a story, Moony."

I sighed. "Padfoot, you're sixteen. Aren't you a bit old for that?"

Apparently not. He pounced onto my bed like the canine he was, disrupting the perfect comfort of my bed sheets. Cocking his head to the side so that some of his cool-guy-long-hair fell into his eyes, he crawled up next to me and lay down.

"I am not telling you a story…

"Padfoot…

"Padfoot, get out of my face, I'm trying to sleep!" I figured I had a right to be grumpy; it was the middle of the night.

Okay, he wasn't really in my face, but he was being…well…Padfoot. Which can be overbearing sometimes.

"Make Prongs do it," I groaned into my pillow, still trying to grasp onto the sleep that had by now eluded me.

"He hexed me, Moony. Now it's your job."

"Well what makes you think I won't hex you too?"

I wasn't looking at him, but I could sense his cocky grin as he said, "Because I've got your wand."

"Padfoot! Give it back!" I think it was that point at which I lost any chance of falling asleep again.

"I will if you tell me a story."

"For heaven's sake, Padfoot, it's the middle of the night. You are a teenager. Why do you need to be told a story?"

"Because I can't sleep."

Of course.

I groaned a bit more than what was necessary, hoping he would get the point, but I shouldn't have bothered. He was Padfoot; of course he wasn't going to get the point.

"Then let it be said that you are a moron," I conceded with a sigh.

"I'll accept that."

"Thank you. So, what do you want the story to be about?"

"Surprise me."

"Oh come on, give me some direction, I'm exhausted."

"How will it be your story if I tell you how it should go?"

"Remind me to hex you tomorrow."

"Sure thing."

"Hmm…" An idea hit me. "Once there was this boy who loved chocolate. He loved it so much that he never ate anything else. His teeth were all rotten and falling out."

"That's gross, Moony."

"Don't interrupt, Padfoot." He was under the covers now and propping his head on his hand, listening intently. Five years of knowing him and it still amazed me how childish he could be.

"Anyway, this boy—"

"What was his name?"

"We'll just say his name was Padfoot. Don't—"

"That's not very creative. He sounds more like you anyway."

"My teeth are not rotting! And I don't love chocolate nearly that much."

"Yeah, but I get the image of you in my head when I think of him. He just seems like a 'Moony' sort of bloke."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. After a few moments I said slowly, "Your mental process never ceases to amaze me, Padfoot, but I think it may drive me to insanity some day."

"Heard that before," he said with a casual wave of the hand that wasn't supporting his head. "So what's his name?"

"I'll say Oliver."

"That's a stupid name."

"Well do you want to hear a story or not, Padfoot?"

"I should have specified that I wanted to be told a good story."

"Then I'm sorry my story doesn't meet the standards of Sir Padfoot the Great. I'll try harder next time, master. In the meantime, can I lick your shoes?"

"All I'm saying is—"

"Oliver! His name is bloody Oliver! Now shut up!"

He made a hurt sound. "No need to bite my head off, Moony."

"Well then will you please shut up so I can tell the bloody story and we can both get to bed?"

"Yes you may. Please continue."

"Now where was I? Oh yes, so one day Oliver was devouring his chocolate as per normal, when he began to expand. Now, Oliver was not very smart, much like dear old Padfoot—"

"Hey, I take offense to that."

"—and so he thought someone had placed an Engorgement Charm on him. He tried to shrink himself back to his normal size, but it didn't work. So instead of contacting St. Mungo's, he tried to curse it off."

"Oooh, he shouldn't have done that."

"That's right, he shouldn't have. And do you know what happened to him, Padfoot?"

"Oh no, what happened to him?"

"He blew up."

Padfoot thought about this. "Well how did they know he was dead? I mean, he might have made himself really tiny be accident or something."

"They found his finger where he'd been standing. So unless he cut it off before he did it—"

"What an exciting way to go!"

"Yes, now please give me my wand back and go to bed."

"Moony?"

"Yes Padfoot, what is it now?"

"I never had your wand. It's been sitting on the bedside table this whole time."

"…"

"I'll go to bed now."

"Padfoot?"

"Yes, Moony?"

"I'm going to kill you."