An interlude of your normal programming to bring you a ficlet in Remus' POV. Slightly sexual but not really. Sap. Wolfstar is taking over my life.
Remus Interlude 1
Sirius always forgot to throw his silk boxers he loved to wear so dearly into the laundry basket. Remus found himself, on Saturdays, bending down on his bad knees to look under their bed for a pair that had escaped Remus' first sweep of their bedroom. He'd check the back of the closet for the red pair that usually ended up there, under the bureau for one of the black pairs, in the bathroom (behind the vanity and on top of the towel rack for the twin blue pairs that were the sneakiest) and occasionally the study or parlor if they'd gotten a bit frisky that week and weren't able to make it too the bedroom, which was almost always the green pair. If Remus ever missed a pair in the latter two rooms, it made for some rather uncomfortable conversation with houseguests.
Sirius never made the bed. He rolled out of it, bright and early and most certainly not awake on the days he had to go in early to the Ministry to work behind a desk for eight hours. Remus sometimes woke up to the comforting sounds of the dark haired wizard clumsily stumbling around their bedroom looking for a pair of clean trousers and a set of fitting robes. Never once, even as Sirius was slipping on his loafers or tying the laces of his boots, comfortably seated on the edge of his side of the bed, did he remember to tuck the covers back up to the headboard. He'd just cross to the other side of the bed and press a few kisses to Remus' face and close the bedroom door behind him with a soft click. (On days it was Remus rising first, Sirius would try his best to get his husband to stay five minutes more. All though sooner or later, Siri would clunk down the steps after Remus, the still sleep warmed sheets wrinkled and unmade at the foot of the bed. Really, what was the point of staying in bed when your lycanthropic heater was gone?)
Sirius often forgot to eat. Despite being a ravenously hungry teenaged boy once, when nothing got between him and food, Sirius was certainly not that way now. Remus didn't really think Sirius had an eating disorder per say, he was of a healthy weight and he truly seemed surprised when Remus told him he hadn't been eating, but he simply...forgot to take in sustenance. Azkaban had changed the wizard greatly, possibly more mentally than physically. Simple things like hunger or cold didn't bother Sirius anymore. 0ºC outside and the infernal man wouldn't be wearing anything but a button down, jeans, and his beloved combat boots. Remus constantly found himself reminding Sirius to put something other than his daily few glasses of wine in his stomach.
Sirius played his music at an impolite volume level. Anyone sensible would tell Sirius to turn Led Zeppelin, the Beatles, the Stones, Sex Pistols, Mercury, down. Remus wasn't that sensible. Then again, he was usually singing two part harmony with Sirius.
Sirius would take his bike out for hours at a time with little clue as to where he was headed or when he was coming back. At first, this annoyed and angered Remus to no end. How would he know if Sirius was safe or in one piece or coming back? God, what would he do without Sirius? He always did come back though, Sirius. It was usually right before dinner with his cheeks red, his lips chapped and smelling of cigarette smoke. Remus soon realized that's how Sirius thought best—the wind in his face and his body moving forward. Remus learned to leave Sirius' plate in the oven to keep warm.
Sirius angered people. It was a fact of life, something that had been happening for as long as Remus had known him from that fateful day on the train and even before that. It was something that continued to happen. Though now, Remus had noticed, it wasn't usually over something trivial. It was over something important to Sirius, something he was passionate about. Sirius was a person of immense passion after all, about things people wouldn't believe. He was at a point in his life where he'd seen and done so many things he was often in a unique position in an argument. Just as often, Remus found himself coming to Sirius' aid in arguments. And occasionally throwing punches.
Sirius had horrible nightmares. No, night terrors. Dreams that would leave the man, an empty shell on his worst days, sweating and twisted up in their sheets, gasping for air. He'd sit up straight, chest heaving and gray eyes wild. The first word out of his mouth would always be, "Remus." This Remus would promptly respond with, "Right here." Calmly, he'd take Sirius into his arms and hold him tightly, whispering kind, loving things into the shorter wizard's ear as the man relaxed. More times than not, Sirius got back to sleep, though occasionally he'd be too worked up to, but that was all right because Remus was and would always be there if he needed.
Sirius was a horrible househusband. It was the reason why Remus did not allow house plants or pets, because they would surely be neglected. Sirius, nowadays, was usually found in their joint study, a cigarette between his teeth, reading reports from the Auror department and humming to Hey Jude. Sometimes Remus would call Harry over if the werewolf suspected he'd have to leave for an extended amount of time, just to let Sirius have some company. Even so, when Remus crawled on top of unmade sheets at night, legs out in front of himself, reading a novel, Sirius would waltz into their bedroom and settle himself on top of Remus; making up for the forgotten underpants, the messy sheets, the irregular eating habits, the loud music, the worry and fear, and the uneasy nights in bed. Sirius would kiss Remus on the underside of the werewolf's jaw, knowing he was forgiven followed by Remus giving him a proper kiss to tell him he didn't have to apologize in the first place.
You know the drill, reviews are love. Now, please please please tell me if you have any ficlet ideas. I need them.
