I own only the plot. I don't own the characters or world, unfortunately. The belong to Mrs Rowling.

This wasn't something Sirius normally did. Lying in bed, just thinking. It seemed he was making a habit of doing so recently.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He knew that he hadn't just turned gay. You can't turn gay. You're born that way and have absolutely no control over it. It's not a disease or mutation. It doesn't make you a monster. Most of the other boys in school would think he was, though. If he came out.

Thinking back, Sirius figured he never really liked girls. They were just convenient. No matter how much he hated his parents there would always be aspects of his personality that would remind him he was his parents son. His upbringing felt swift and sharp, whatever his mind meant by that. He was taught that muggles, muggle-borns, half-breeds and queers were filthy creatures, not good enough for him. He spent so long suffering. So long learning to shut away the fact that all romantic feelings in him were directed at members of the same sex.

Rapidly, he began to notice all of Remus' quirks and habits. The way he would suck his pinky while thinking or flick his tongue at his wrist while reading. Sirius noticed the way his smile never reached his eyes when he was talking to anyone but the Marauders or Lily and the fact that he tugged his tawny locks when distressed. Sirius realised that he had been noticing a lot about the small boy and thought that maybe, just maybe he was falling for him.

Sirius, of course, had no idea what love felt like so maybe the sweaty palms and 200-miles-per-hour heart and the bubbling stomach were all just caused by that curry he had last night. Although, when he was still suffering from the same symptoms two weeks later and the school nurse said there was nothing wrong with him, he knew. He knew he was in love with Remus. It hurt. A lot.

It hurt knowing that his feelings could never be returned. It hurt wanting something this bad and not being able to have it. It hurt. It always would hurt, unless Remus somehow returned his feelings.

He also loved the feeling of being in love. It reminded him of summer. It reminded him of the feelings he would get when he was riding his bike, shirtless. Trying to catch a tan. Racing James to the lake, always losing by just a step. Love looked to him like a huge, perfect, wonderful colourful explosion. Pinks and blues and reds and purples all in one big mess of creativity. Standing alone but causing something like awe in anyone who was lucky enough to see it. Love was a masterpiece.

It was with thoughts of this imaginary masterpiece, this fantastic and fake artwork that he bought marker pens, pink, blue, red and purple, and asked Remus if he could draw on him. Remus, never one to decline one of Sirius' outlandish requests, agreed.

Sirius ordered Remus to take off his shirt and roll over, so he was on his stomach. The werewolf kindly obliged. Sirius, lightly, drew the pattern in his head onto the peaches-and-cream skinned young man. He filled the outlines with colour, trying to do the artwork justice, but failing.

"I should re-do it. Turn over", ordered Sirius, hands lying flat on Remus' back.

Sirius kept his hands on the werewolf, hypnotised by the feel of the skin moving under his hands. He realised with a faint blush that his hands were pressed firmly just above his friends crotch. He moved them, reluctantly, and began to recreate the colours in his mind.

Two hours. Two hours Remus had lay there. Two hours that Sirius had been allowed to touch the other boy. He wouldn't lie to himself. It turned him on that Remus had allowed him to touch and mark his skin so much.

Second chapter. Like it? Hate it?

I hope you don't hate it.

Sorry about the delay. My internet hasn't been working for the last two days so I was unable to post this.

I fixed it though...I'm cool like that. Hehe.

Love.

x