Thank you everyone for your lovely comments (and for catching my forgetfulness, Kit!). Thanks to the lovely reviews (and some readers coming out of the woodwork! Welcome! Thank you!) there will be no hiatus and many more chapters!
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The winter sun shone through the bedroom window to light upon the two men lying side by side, peacefully, on the bed. As the room brightened, the men's eyes tightened onto the last minutes of sleep. Or, rather, the darker man did, while the light-haired man blinked, raising one stiff hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes before lying his hand on his eyes, shielding the sun, and sighing. It was a strange sigh – one of bitterness and tiredness, and of hope and thankfulness. He succumbed after a moment, and pulled himself into a sitting position, pulling his knees to his chest and stretching forwards, his back cracking into motion. As he swung his legs of the bed, thinking of tea, his partner spoke.
"I hate it when you crack," he said groggily, hoarsely.
"Habit," he replied, standing and reaching up towards the ceiling, his back, elbows, shoulders, and neck cracking together.
"Disgusting," Sirius whispered, rolling onto his back and looking up at Remus through squinting eyes. "But you look gorgeous."
"I feel disgusting."
"So do these sheets."
"And the rest of the flat?"
Sirius could hear the apprehension in Remus' voice. It was always there the morning after his transformation, and the result was always the same.
"Same as always. But you spent more time in the kitchen."
"And here I wanted a cup of tea."
Sirius grinned at the other man's cheek, his eyes closing as he rolled back onto his stomach, pressing his face into Remus' pillow as he stretched.
Remus was already in the kitchen, trying to step around (but inevitably stepping on) the splinters of the chairs that had once sat around the table. The table itself had two legs knocked from under it and was leaning into the kitchen. Remus stood against the counter – newly scratched, the cupboard behind his knees smashed in, the pots and pans askew, the plastic handles bearing bite marks – as he waited patiently for his tea. He listened as Sirius moved slowly into the bathroom, run the water, flush the toilet, fight with the shower curtain, and hiss in pain. The bathroom and spare bedroom were the only rooms safe from the wolf on the full moons, although their doors bore the want to explore of the wolf.
The kettle whistled and Remus poured his cup as the water in the bathroom turned off. He pulled open the curtains of the small window and looked out to the bright wintry day.
Sirius limped into the kitchen as Remus turned from the window.
"Fancy a cuppa?"
Sirius nodded, the towel around his waist slipping slightly as he raised his wand to repair the chairs and table.
Remus placed their mugs on the table as Sirius sank, wincing, into the chair across from him.
"Sorry about last night."
"No need. I'll be fine. It was good."
"I don't think I meant to."
"I'm glad you did."
"But I hurt you."
"Well, it's not every day –" Sirius paused and looked up into Remus' concerned eyes before looking back down. "I wouldn't mind it if it was."
Remus did not reply as they both sipped their tea.
"You ruined the couch again."
"And the bedroom door, I noticed."
"I can fix it up."
"I'll handle the bedroom."
"You sure will."
Remus laughed, setting his cup in the sink. As he arrived at the mangled bedroom door, he called back over his shoulder.
"Thank you."
"You better be, you dominatrix, you."
But Remus kept smiling.
Once Remus finished fixing the damage in the bedroom, replacing the sheets on the bed, and putting pants on, he began to unpack the belongings that he had hid out of the wolf's reach. But as he made his way through the closet, he noticed a box he had never seen before. On the folded top, it read "To Remus, re: Lupin Estate". A lump in his throat, he carried it into the newly repaired living room where Sirius was sprawled on the couch. He looked up as Remus entered.
"You did a number on the fireplace, you should know."
"Did you bring this box home?"
The smile slid from Sirius' face as Remus looked at him.
"Yeah, Dumbledore gave it to me to give to you a couple days ago. Sorry, I kind of put it in the closet to keep it out of the way."
"Oh. All right then."
"What is it?" Sirius asked quietly.
"It's from my parent's house," he replied, sitting on the couch next to Sirius, the box on his knees.
"Are you going to open it?"
They locked eyes for a brief moment before Remus looked back to the box and pulled the flaps up, unfolding the top and revealing –
"Oh, my life," Remus breathed, reaching in and pulling out a light bulb decorated to look like a reindeer.
"Moony, what –?"
"Jesus, Pads, they really did leave me everything. Jesus."
"Moony, I still don't –"
"They're Christmas ornaments, Padfoot. All of them. Not just the balls and holly and tinsel, but all the things I made in preschool, and with my neighbours and family, and –" He stopped abruptly, the light in his eyes going out as he stared down at a popsicle stick star. "It's too much," he whispered, pushing the box onto Sirius' knees, "There's too many memories." He stood up, the star still in his hand, and left the living room, taking no notice of Sirius' shocked expression.
He locked the bedroom door, knowing full well it would not stop Sirius from entering, and lay down on the made bed, the star in his hand, a tear in his eye. An ache was in his heart
It was a simple decoration, but one that was a favourite of his parents. Made of five popsicle sticks, their ends glued together into the never ending pattern of lines, multi-coloured glitter was smeared over the wood. He turned it over in his palm, knowing "Remus, Dec. 1966" would be etched there in blue ink. Turning it back to the front, his six year old self smiled down at him, scars on the young face. For ten minutes he lay there, staring at himself, the etched date, the glitter that his father thought was only for girls but his mother thought darling, and oh, wasn't it great that the put his picture in the centre. They hung it on the tree every year after that.
Finally he managed to smile at his picture, and sat up, knowing his mother would be rolling in her grave if he didn't get into the holiday spirit. She was always the one to decorate. Remus and his father would untangle the lights as she iced the cooled gingerbread men who would hang on the tree and slowly disappear before Christmas morning.
He stood in the doorway of the living room, grinning from ear to ear as he watched Sirius string holly over the mantle, and could swear the tune coming from the other man's lips was "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen." Yes, this Christmas would be a happy one after all.
When Sirius caught Remus looking at him, he coerced him into helping with the decorating. And so they strung holly, hung baubles, and sprinkled tinsel. Most of the decorations, however, remained in the box, as they were all for a tree.
When they finished what they could, Remus ran a bath as Sirius washed their mugs from earlier. But as Remus slid into the bath, he could see Sirius (through the bathroom door, which was never usually closed when one used the bath), pulling on his coat and gloves.
"Where are you going?"
"You'll see."
"Where?"
"See you later," he called, grinning over his shoulder at Remus, who sat in the warm tub, recognizing the glint in Sirius' eyes.
Fifteen minutes later, his bath finished, Remus dressed and padded out to the kitchen. He patiently brewed another cup of tea as he impatiently waited for Sirius to come back from whatever mischief he had managed. As he settled onto the couch, he barely had enough time to properly zone out and drink his tea before Sirius was back, backing into the room, pulling a tree behind him.
"There weren't many left," he panted as Remus jumped up to help him across the threshold, "but the guy at the lot have me a deal, so I said yes, and –" They pulled it full into the living room and propped it up. "Well, there's our tree," he said proudly.
It looked pathetic. Many of the needles had been knocked off, and entire branches had been snapped off at varying lengths from the trunk, which was slightly bent.
"Granted, it isn't the prettiest, but," Sirius looked at Remus, "I wanted a tree, and you have all those decorations –"
Remus smiled at him. "It's wonderful."
Sirius grinned, and immediately began pulling the lights around the tree.
Remus sat back and watched – much as a parent watches their child – as Sirius decorated the tree. As Sirius pulled out childhood decorations, he looked at Remus for the story behind them, and soon Remus was telling stories of his childhood he thought he would never utter; memories, mostly simple ones, that he would have locked in his mind forever; and bits and bats that wouldn't matter to anyone else but him.
Sirius worked his way up the tree, decorating one for the first time in his life. He reached the top nearly an hour later, after choosing the best ornaments, as the wimpy tree would never be able to hold them all, and fought with himself as he tried to decide between the star or the angel for the very top. Remus had gone back to the kitchen when Sirius finally settled for the star, and then reached behind the tree to plug it in. As the lights flickered into existence, he stood back to admire his work. He felt Remus' arms wrap around his shoulders, and smiled, bringing his own hands up to grasp Remus'.
"Happy Christmas," Remus whispered in his ear, and Sirius' smile grew.
"Happy Christmas."
And they stood together, looking up at the tree for a few minutes, Remus' eyes travelling over the well known decorations before Sirius spoke again.
"Let's get drunk."
And Remus obliged.