A/N: Consider yourself warned, this is basically an excuse to have Sirius, Remus and James snog. Not much in the way of plot, but lots of angst and fluff. Leave a review and I'll give you a fresh-baked brownie:)

Disclaimer: Yes, we all know that JKR owns all these lovely boys, and I am merely a humble fan-writer. Do not sue; I am broke.

WARNING: This is SLASH. Not your ship? Get swimming. Take my word for it, you don't want to flame me for the pairings, because I can get very nasty when provoked. Innocent smile

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It had been ridiculously clear since the fourth year that Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were going to get together sooner or later. Never mind that the former was a notorious ladies' man, and never mind that the latter had never been known to do anything at all with anyone, male or female. It was clear to everyone that they looked at each other much more than friends should, that they tended to laugh a bit too hard at each other's jokes and stand just a little too close in crowded corridors. It was painfully clear that they were absolutely dying to shag. Clear as daylight – to everyone but Sirius Black and Remus Lupin themselves.

Sirius never once thought about Remus in a more-than-platonic way – at least consciously (he did recall a dream in which a very familiar pair of amber eyes stared at him lustily and a well-known voice moaned his name, but that was another matter altogether). Sirius knew that no matter how many girls he shagged, it never felt quite right, but that was as far as he got with it.

Remus, on the other hand, never wondered why he automatically turned down advances from boys and girls alike. Even when he caught himself admiring the way Sirius' silky black hair hung at just the right angle – so it looked rebellious but didn't obscure his bright grey eyes – the normally-intelligent boy never put his own thoughts together.

Until one crisp autumn evening during their seventh year when all the pieces fell crashing into place. Remus, incurable insomniac, and Sirius, uncontrollable procrastinator, were sitting in the otherwise-abandoned Common Room as the hands of the clock twitched toward midnight. A window was cracked open, letting in a wonderfully fresh breeze whose chill was countered by the warmth of the crackling fire at the other end of the room. Somewhere in between these two climates sat the two boys. Sirius was hunched over a table, quill flying across the parchment while his other hand anxiously pushed his hair away from his face, looking quite uncharacteristically studious. Remus, who had long since finished the History of Magic essay that his friend was so desperately writing, lounged in an armchair a few feet away, apparently greatly absorbed in studying a point about two feet in front of his nose.

Just as the clock finished chiming for the twelfth time, Sirius dropped his quill and all but feel from his chair to sprawl rather ungracefully on the floor. Remus glanced down at his friend, an eyebrow quirking in amusement.

"Finished!" Sirius always did enjoy stating the obvious.

Remus smiled, then impulsively slid from his chair and stretched out next to the black-haired boy.

"What? Not even a 'congratulations,' Moony?"

"Congrats, Padfoot," Remus responded obediently.

"Why thank you!" Sirius cried, as if Remus had just paid him an incredible compliment. "And I'll have you know I finished it a whole –" his eyes jumped to the clock "– eight hours and twenty-seven minutes before it's due."

"Impressive," came the dry reply.

A snuffle – a whine – and Sirius had flipped over so that he could look straight down at his friend. "Sometimes, Moony," he began with a tragic air, slipping into their familiar format of teasing, "I just don't think you really appreciate me."

"Padfoot, m'dear, I think you've mixed up appreciation and adoration. I appreciate you. Marisa Creevey adores you." The mousy fourth-year was the unofficial head of the unofficial Sirius Black Fan Club.

Sirius stuck his tongue out in distaste at her name. "You're right, Remus dahling," he sighed dramatically. "'Tis only you I want. Will you ever have me?"

"Hmm… I don't know," retorted Remus. "It all depends…" Suddenly their eyes met, and Remus lost track of whatever undoubtedly witty comeback he'd been making. "It, uh, depends," he stuttered, unnerved by how amazingly clear the other boy's eyes were, and how intently Sirius was gazing at him.

"Depends on what?" Sirius asked softly, going from playful to serious (no pun intended, really) like only he could do.

Remus fought a huge lump in his throat that was trying valiantly to choke him. "On… on whether or not you'll have me," he finished, not understanding what he was saying until the words were out, and then realizing it was true. He'd do anything for the black-haired god who was leaning over him, pinning him to the floor.

At that moment, Remus didn't know why he hadn't figured it out sooner. And Sirius wasn't sure how he'd never (consciously) thought of Remus before that point. And in reply, Sirius did the most logical thing he could think of: he leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to Remus', who didn't even flinch, but pressed back like he'd been expecting that all along.

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A/N: This is how it works: lots of review --> happy author --> new chapter faster:)