Title: Sunshine
Rating: G
Warnings: Fluff, very very very mild slash
Sunshine
Remus often hums or sings to himself, snatches of old songs that his mum used to sing when he was little. It's a habit that he learned to curb in school, just after James and Sirius caught him and teased him over it for months. Now, out of school and living alone, he allows himself to indulge in it again.
He lives in digs in Muggle London, a shabby little place with peeling wallpaper, damp on the ceiling and cockroaches, and an elderly landlady whose unrelenting mania for quiet and a draconian approach to rules and regulations have almost made him homeless on a number of occasions. Well, truth be told Sirius has almost made him homeless on a number of occasions.
With James and Lily playing newlyweds, and Peter doing...whatever Peter does all day, Sirius often spends his days at Remus'. Sirius is a 'gentleman of leisure' as he laughingly terms it, thanks to an uncle who left him a tidy sum and much to the fury of his family. Remus is out of work, for the fact is that no wizarding firm would employ a werewolf, and no Muggle employer would tolerate a worker who requires almost a week off every month. He scrapes by on odd-jobs and a modest savings account, although there's precious little luxury to be had.
Most of his treats and small luxuries come in the form of Sirius, who often turns up with a new book to lend Remus, or a bar of Honeydukes chocolate and won't Remus help him eat it? Remus is proud, and won't accept charity, but these little kindnesses are touching rather than humiliating, and he allows them. In return, Sirius has free reign to wander over whenever he likes in spite of the repeated warnings of the landlady, and can sit and talk for hours on end without any interruption but for cups of tea, or cans of lager if Remus is particularly affluent.
Sirius fills the empty spaces in Remus' home in a way that the others don't, with his brightness and his sheer Sirius-ness. Somewhere along the line, Remus realises that he loves Sirius for it.
It isn't a grand, tragic passion. It doesn't torture Remus, or keep him awake of nights. It doesn't stop his appetite (Merlin knows he eats little enough as it is). If anything, Remus is the happier for it. The love isn't selfish, doesn't demand love in return; it's a pleasant, comfortable warmth deep inside that makes his awful hole of a bedsit a little bit homier, makes every grey and miserable day that little bit easier to bear.
His mother used to sing when she was happy, a long long time ago before Remus got his bite and before his mother got that sallow, tight-skinned look of the very ill. She used to sing Muggle songs in her sweet, girlish voice, and her favourite was - oh, what was it? Remus thinks hard, and hums a few odd verses from various tunes, none of them right. He taps his fingers in annoyance, and Sirius raises a quizzical eyebrow. Remus looks at Sirius and oh, of course. He smiles.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," he sings softly. "You make me happy, when skies are grey."
Sirius stares at him, eyes dark and their expression strange for a moment, and then he says, "Well, Moony, congratulations. You've finally gone right over the edge."
Remus grins.
A/N: Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave feedback, as I live upon it.