Title: Birthday Boy

Rating: M (for mature right?)

Ships: SB/RL, HP?

Summary: It's Remus's birthday and it seems that Sirius has a surprise for him…

Just a note here…eh…No money was made off the production of this fanfiction…though many muses were harmed in the process. I own nothing, besides my own original sarcasm, of which the cup overrunneth, and the not-so-trusty laptop on which I am writing this. Also, may no Americans be offended by this chapter. I can't resist making fun of my own people wink wink I was in hysterics in Finding Nemo when the shark said "Must've been American." Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Sexiest Man Alive?

Harry leaned against the kitchen counter-top, a mug of coffee in hand. It was Remus's birthday today and Sirius had made him promise to help with their "Muggle Tour". It seemed that Sirius had made a rather empty promise at some point or another and realized that there was no better time than the present to start actually keeping his word. Surprise, surprise.

"Sightseeing, in bloody London? Bloody hell, have they never looked out their bleeding window? They've lived here longer than I have, for bugger's sake."

Harry impatiently brushed long black bangs out of his eyes. After the war, he had gone to America for a much needed "vacation" of sorts. He decided to chase a Seeker opening in a rather well-known American Quidditch team. It seemed like the perfect chance to get some sun and get away from everything that reminded him of the War while finding a future for himself.

"Well, what do you expect from Sirius and Remus? I highly doubt either one of them has pulled away from the other long enough to have actually stepped away from the bed."

Harry smiled. He had met up with the love of his life before he left for America. They had secretly come to terms after the war, even though each had been on separate sides. They were also going in separate ways but after a night of wine-sipping a.k.a. getting wicked drunk, secrets were told, feelings were revealed, and it was decided that they would both go to America. The coastal sun of California had given Harry quite a tan. It made him stand out terribly in England and many mistook him for an American tourist. How insulting.

Harry set his mug aside and pulled his lover closer, enjoying the warmth of the lean figure.

"Mmm, rather like you and I, eh?" A seductive smile.

"Perhaps." A curl of the lips.

Harry ran his eyes up and down the figure appreciatively. The two years spent in The States had not affected his lover in the least. Always rather proud of his fair skin, he scowled when Harry howled with laughter after comparing their skin tones. God, how he would glare at the next person to compare chocolate to Snape's arse. He was built, but not bulky in the least. God, those tight, tight, black jeans…Even Harry couldn't resist licking his lips.

"Like what you see?" He raised an eyebrow.

"More than you know." Harry grinned placing a soft kiss on his nose.

"What do you think? Sexiest person alive?"

"Nope." Harry casually walked away, picking up his coffee once more.

He made his way toward the fireplace, sashaying his hips in a tantalizing manner.

"What? You little…" He grabbed Harry's wrist.

Harry twisted away laughing at his lover's indignance.

"May I remind you, dear sir, that there is nothing little about me." He gave an impish grin.

His lover followed him around the room in what seemed like a hunt between predator and prey. That is…if the prey had smoked something particularly good recently, and if the predator was fighting the natural laws of animal magnetism.

Harry was cornered. He knew there was no way out, but he had to try. Maybe, if he ducked into the fireplace to the right of him, he could pull off a magnificent escape. He inched to the right.

"Oh, no you don't." He pushed Harry to the wall, his body pinning him against the brick wall. No one noticed as the empty coffee mug fell to the floor, shattering into pieces.

"So…who is the sexiest man alive?" He breathed into Harry's ear, nibbling gently on his ear lobe.

Silence.

"I do believe I have just rendered you speechless. What is the world coming to these days? Harry…could it be? You're getting old."

Harry snorted, shaking his head.

Old? I'll show you old…

He brought his hands up slowly, resting them on the crisp, just-ironed shirt-clad chest in front of him.

"Umm…well…" He eased his lover backwards, so slowly that he doubted the other realized they were moving.

"Umm…well…what? Ah!" The back of his knees hit the arm of the sofa, tipping them both over.

Harry was perched on the top, one knee to each side of the slim waist, looking all too much like a cat that had just tripped another loser. Well, technically speaking, he had done just that. His emerald eyes sparkled in mischief.

"Well…the sexiest man alive is…"

He was cut off by the sound of someone, or rather someones, flooing in.

"Why is it only wrong when we can't keep our hands off each other, Moony?"

Guessed Harry's lover yet? If you haven't…I'm sorry…you're daft…like Jack. I'd like to thank all my kind reviewers. And lotrobsession…it was Jack Sparrow to who I was referring to. Any suggestions as to the next chapter? I'm sorry, mates, but I'm absolutely atrocious when it comes to straight romance. I don't know why…