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This hadn't been the plan.
Not that Remus had planned it, of course. Planning was for the sort of person who -- well, planned things, and Remus wasn't. Not things like this. He considered, and he wanted, and he created ridiculous scenarios in his head he knew would never come to pass. At least he was almost certain they would never come to pass. He also dreamed occasionally -- the kind of vivid, heavy dreams that left him achy and sticky and spent -- but he didn't plan, because planning implied a measure of hope, and quite frankly, Remus had never been one for hoping.
Apparently, anything was possible, assuming the players involved had consumed enough eggnog.
It had been really good eggnog: rich, creamy, and light on the nutmeg. Lily had made it from scratch, using her mother's recipe and supplies she'd purchased in Hogsmeade, and James had added a large amount of expensive Muggle brandy. Remus could still taste it if he tried. He could also feel it, in the form of the dull throb slowly spreading behind his eyes. He blinked once, twice, ignoring both the sleepy sigh behind him and the arm curved around his waist.
He'd had one too many, which meant the others had had more than that. Slowly, he remembered Peter slumped in the corner, his hand waving in slow circles as he opined on the currrent placement of Venus to no one in particular. He also remembered Elsie Witherspoon and Marlene McKinnon, shrieking as they hurled bits of balled parchment at each other from behind overturned couches, and then James, leading Lily in a reeling waltz with a school tie wrapped around his head, just before the drapes had caught fire and Sirius...
Oh, Sirius.
"Oi, Sirius!" The door creaked open and Remus froze, his skin prickling at the sound of James' throaty, it's-far-too-early burr. "Remus? Where'd you lot get to?"
"I told you, they're not in here," Peter said wearily. "I already checked."
Sirius sighed again, resting his hand on Remus' hip as he shifted closer. Remus ignored this as well, because he couldn't deal with it just now. He squinted at his bed hangings instead; the sliver of light pushing through the crack suggested it was morning. He heard slow, shuffling footsteps, then the impatient rattle of clothes and books being swept aside, and the tired creak of the wardrobe's doors -- a place in which Sirius occasionally slept curled up as a dog. Sirius pressed closer still, his hand sliding up to Remus' chest. Remus rubbed at his face and tried not to breathe too loudly.
"Useless berks," James grumbled over what sounded like the wardrobe being slammed closed. "It's Christmas morning. I want to open my presents." The floor groaned as someone approached Remus' bed. "Sirius'll be brassed off if we start without him, but -- did you check the loo, Wormtail?"
"Twice," Peter replied as Remus' bed hangings rustled threateningly. "I'm telling you, they went for breakfast."
James sighed. "Breakfast was an hour ago."
"Kitchens are always open," Peter said thoughtfully. "For us, anyway."
"All right, all right," James said. Remus could hear him pulling at his hair. He could also hear Sirius breathing, but that was another matter entirely. "Let's try the common room again, and if they're not there -- well, I don't much care if Sirius gets brassed off. I'm at least opening that sparkly box from my parents."
"The big one?"
"Bloody huge, innit? I'm just sure it's that potions kit I've been asking for."
The footsteps resumed; Remus was pleased to note they led away from his bed.
"I'll never know why you asked for a potions kit."
"To blow things up, of course. You coming?"
"Yeah."
The door creaked again, marking James and Peter's exit, and Remus sighed. That was one problem sorted, at least for now. All that remained was Remus' original, and possibly larger, problem -- namely, that Sirius was in his bed. Sirius was in his bed, and it was quite possible that he was naked. Judging by what Remus could see of Sirius' arm, the best Remus could hope for was shirtless; the arm was naked, if nothing else was, and Remus suspected Sirius' shirt was responsible for the uncomfortable lump that had worked itself underneath his knee.
If Sirius was naked, this was no longer a problem. It was an emergency, and Remus only had one viable option: denial and misdirection. He would sneak out of bed before Sirius woke, then shower, shave, and dress like he did on normal, ordinary days, then stumble downstairs and smile as James opened the bloody huge sparkly box from his parents. When Sirius joined them, he would act like nothing strange or potentially mortifying had happened at all, and if -- and only if -- Sirius asked any questions, Remus would simply say that he'd slept in Sirius' bed because Sirius -- who'd obviously been completely trollied -- had passed out in his.
Right.
Remus inched toward the edge of the bed, but Sirius -- who was obstinate and contrary by nature, as well as bloody inconvenient, even while unconscious -- inched right along with him, and his hand slipped from Remus' chest to smooth over Remus' belly, pausing just as his fingers bumped the edge of Remus' pants. He grunted sleepily, mumbling a few thick words in the unintelligible language of those well and truly dead to the world, and pushed his face against the back of Remus' neck.
All things considered, Remus was in a lot of trouble. James and Peter would be back up eventually, and Sirius was still in his bed, and he was still in his bed, which meant he and Sirius were in bed together, and never mind that Sirius might be naked. There was also last night, which Remus didn't even want to think about.
He shouldn't think about it, because no good could come from it. Best if he forgot the whole thing, really. Particularly the way Sirius had felt on top of him, and how he'd shivered when Sirius had laughed against his neck. Or the way they'd kissed: soft and slow with eggnog on their lips, then harder and faster with desperation on their tongues. Or Sirius' hands, warm and determined as they'd pulled at Remus' clothes. Or Sirius' cock, sliding against his hip, or the smile that had tugged at his mouth when Remus had gasped and came, hot and thick over Sirius' fingers.
Of course, he wanted to think about it, because he'd wanted that -- exactly that. Well, almost exactly; he could've done without the eggnog, and not just because his head ached and his tongue felt covered in wool. But, as things stood, there had been eggnog, and things had happened, and he shouldn't think about it. If he did, he'd have to admit that things happened, and because things had happened, Sirius was in his bed and possibly naked, and that brought Remus back to his problem.
"Did James finally bang off, then?"
And apparently, his problem was awake.
"Yeah," Remus replied thinly. He took a deep breath, but it didn't help. "He said something about presents."
"Right. Bloody huge box." Sirius stretched, a manoeuvre that only served to push his body against Remus', and made a weighted, bleary noise that Remus shouldn't have found attractive. "Potions kit, was it?"
"Yeah."
"Brilliant," Sirius muttered, mostly to the nape of Remus' neck. "He'll want to try for another Fizzing Solution, and my eyebrows just grew back." His lips brushed Remus' skin in soft flutters that made Remus shiver, and Remus quietly began to panic. To make matters worse, Sirius' hand came up to palm Remus' hip. "All right, there?"
Remus opened his mouth, but not much came out. On his second try, he managed something close to "hmm." It was the best he could do.
"Only, you've gone all twitchy," Sirius said. Remus didn't reply, and Sirius sighed. "Bloody Hell, it's cold," he added, releasing Remus long enough to give the blankets a few sharp tugs. His hand returned promptly, warm through the thin fabric of Remus' pants. "Why's it so cold?"
"There's probably a draught," Remus mumbled.
"I'll never understand that," Sirius complained, and unless Remus was imagining things, his thumb had just dipped under the hem of Remus' shirt. "Evans was telling me Muggles put rubber glazing--"
"--Double glazing, Sirius. Double glazing."
"Right, double glazing. That's what I said." He huffed, and his thumb stilled on Remus' skin, pressing just slightly. "They've got that for their windows, and what've we got?"
"Heating Charms."
"Well, all right, but those need renewing every forty minutes, or they go soft."
Remus sighed. This was now definitely an emergency -- a right and proper emergency. Not only was Sirius still in his bed and still probably naked, he was awake, and his proximity and slow, early-morning voice had caused Remus' body to mutiny, which made the whole thing even more mortifying than it had been ten minutes ago. He really ought to move before this resulted in embarrassment all around, but he wasn't really sure if he could. Of course, the cranky, nasty part of his brain said he wasn't really trying because he didn't want to. It also suggested that he should just enjoy it while it lasted, and for his part, Remus couldn't help agreeing with that on some level, until Sirius tightened the hand on his hip and pressed a bit closer.
Sirius was hard.
"We could go downstairs, if you're cold," Remus offered slowly. If he could just get them out of the bed, everything would be fine. Maybe. Possibly. At the very least, he could escape to the loo, where he would have the peace and quiet and lack of Sirius required to regroup. Or wank. Or drown himself in the toilet. "There might be a fire downstairs."
"Might be."
"And -- um, presents."
"Yeah, presents."
"Well?" Remus asked quietly. He made what felt like a valiant attempt at moving, but it really amounted to several blinks and one or two flexed toes. "Shall we?"
"In a minute, then," Sirius replied, and his tongue couldn't have touched Remus' skin, just behind the ear. It just couldn't have. "I'm not all that cold. It's quite nice up here, really."
Sirius shifted his hips just slightly. His cock rubbed against Remus' arse, and Remus closed his eyes.
"So, what'd'ya get me for Christmas?"
Remus swallowed the funny noise trying to escape the back of his throat. "I'm not -- just, I didn't." Undignified, that noise would've been. "I'm not telling."
"C'mon, Moony," Sirius murmured, rocking his hips again, and then again, so slowly, almost carefully. "I'm just going to open it, anyway."
"You'll have to wait," Remus said tightly. "Waiting is -- um, rather the point of Christmas." Sirius' hand dipped down to splay over Remus' belly, his thumb coming to rest just below Remus' navel. "And we can't just--"
"--What?"
"Well, you -- and I, I don't--"
"--You kissed me," Sirius said, mouthing softly at Remus' neck. "Last night, you kissed me."
Remus went very, very still. "I did not."
"Yes, you did," Sirius insisted. "When we went up the stairs, remember? I tripped over that horrid beast of a Kneazle McKinnon calls a pet, and you caught me. Then you put me up against the wall, and then," he added, his tongue tracing the curve of Remus' ear, "you kissed me." He pushed his cock against Remus' arse with a long, slow roll of his hips, and Remus bit back a moan. "It was too quick, and you tried to run off after, but I caught you at the door and kissed you properly."
"Oh."
"You remember, don't you?"
Of course Remus remembered -- the door against his back, and Sirius' tongue sliding into his mouth as they both fumbled for the latch, then Sirius' hands in his hair, and more kisses, their noses bumping as they stumbled over the books and clothes littering the path to Remus' bed.
"I remember."
Sirius huffed and caught Remus' earlobe between his teeth. "You're not sorry, are you?"
"No," Remus said, and in spite of the cranky, nasty part of his brain, which was now telling him in epic scope and detail why this was a bad idea, he arched back and let his arse press against Sirius' cock. "I just thought -- well, you know -- the eggnog."
"I didn't have all that much."
"You nearly fell on the stairs."
"I was sabotaged," Sirius said, his fingers stealing past the waistband of Remus' pants. "It was dark, and McKinnon's familiar tried to kill me."
"And before that, when you and James were singing that song about frog bellies?" Remus asked. "You had Peter's shoes on your hands, and you went right over Lily's favourite armchair."
"Oh, that," Sirius said, his breath hitching slightly as Remus rocked back against him again. "All part of the show."
Sirius slid his lips over Remus' jaw, his tongue dragging across Remus' skin, and Remus arched back, turning his head until their mouths met. The awkward angle made it unspeakably clumsy, and Remus wanted to roll until he was facing Sirius, until he could kiss Sirius properly, but Sirius' hand had finally sneaked inside his pants, and he didn't want to lose the hard press of Sirius' cock against his arse. Sirius gasped, his hip snapping forward as he curled his fingers around Remus' cock, and Remus moaned, a soft sound Sirius caught with his mouth.
"I wanted -- been wanting," Sirius said with his mouth against Remus' cheek. "But you never, you're always so -- I just wasn't sure."
Remus' hips jerked, torn between thrusting into Sirius' hand and pushing back against Sirius' cock. "I, I thought that -- drunk, the eggnog."
"No," Sirius hissed, his teeth grazing Remus' skin. "No."
"Oh. Oh."
Sirius sped his hand, his wrist twisting as his fingers slid up Remus' cock, and Remus stilled, unable to do much more than let Sirius grind against him. The bed creaked, dipping each time Sirius moved, and Remus turned for a kiss, his tongue darting out as he licked and sucked at Sirius' mouth. Sirius moaned, a long low noise that caught in his throat, a shudder running through his body as his cock pulsed against Remus' arse. He pushed Remus back against the pillows, kissing him long and hard as his hand worked Remus' cock, and Remus followed, his breath hitching and his hands catching in Sirius' hair.
"Happy Christmas," Sirius whispered.
Remus snorted softly. "I'm still not telling you what I got you. You'll just have to wait until you open it."
"I suppose we should go downstairs," Sirius said, brushing his lips over Remus'. "James has probably gone spare."
Another kiss, soft and warm and slow. Remus reached for the bed hangings as Sirius pulled away, and found himself looking at James' amused and slightly pink face.
Right. He'd forgotten about that problem.
"Peter, you said you checked the beds," James said sternly.
"Well, I thought I did," Peter replied, his eyes ticking between Remus and Sirius. "I guess I forgot."
"James," Sirius said slowly, as he removed his hand from Remus' pants. Remus was suddenly very glad for the blanket, even if it was now hot and sticky and in desperate need of a wash. "How long have you been standing there?"
"We got here just in time for the grand finale," James said brightly. "When you were done moaning and such, Sirius said you should go downstairs, before I went spare. Then you made some wet, girly noises. Kissing, I wager."
"Well, what else would it have been?" Peter asked warily.
James made a gesture that was terribly crude, even for him. Peter tried to respond, but only managed the startled sputter of the well and truly gobsmacked, and Remus covered his face in an attempt to hide the heat crawling across his skin. After a short, tight silence, Sirius snickered into Remus' shoulder. Eventually, Peter recovered long enough to join in, and then James -- to Remus' horror -- tugged the hangings all the way open and perched on the edge of the bed.
"Go on, then," he said, with a grin. "Was it last night, or this morning?"
"Does it matter?" Remus asked from behind his hands.
"Of course it does," James insisted. "I said before Christmas, and Peter said after. If it was last night, Peter owes me a Galleon."
Remus dropped his hands and favoured James with a filthy glare. "You bet?"
James nodded thoughtfully. "Last year, actually. Easter hols at first -- Peter said before, and I said after. When the term ended and you still hadn't sorted yourselves out, we declared a forfeit." Laughing, he ruffled Remus' fringe. "We decided to try again this year, after I caught Sirius watching you wank in the shower."
"I was not watching!" Sirius insisted, hurling a pillow in James' general direction. "He was already at it when I walked in, and--"
"--Leave it out," James said cheerfully. "So, tell me. Last night, or this morning."
Remus sighed. "It was last night, but it was after midnight, so technically, you owe Peter."
"Balls."
"Yes, yes. Now, do us a favour and bugger off so I can find my pants," Sirius said, pointing sharply at the door. "I have presents downstairs."
"Don't bother," Peter said. "James already opened them all."
"I got bored waiting," James said at Sirius' enraged sputter. "It's your own fault, really, leaving me so you could get off. Moony got you a book on -- well, I'm not sure exactly, 'cause I didn't really look at it, and he also got you a--" His sudden silence was marked by spots of colour blooming on his cheeks. "He got you a... a--"
"--Well, what is it?"
"One of those oversized dog collars -- you know, with the metal bits on," James said, his hand creeping toward his neck. "I thought it was funny, earlier, but this" -- he flapped a hand between Remus and Sirius -- "this just makes it dirty."
Remus smiled. He supposed it did, at that.