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Sirius took up his violin from the corner, and as Remus stretched himself out, he began to play some low, dreamy, melodious air – his own, no doubt, for he had a remarkable gift for improvisation.

He dragged the bow across the strings of his violin very lazily, checking the tuning of the fine-boned instrument with little interest.

"You're such an aristocrat," Remus informed his boyfriend, from the floor, where he sat on one of the large cushions, trying to read.

"Is that an insult?" Sirius inquired, quirking a well-shaped eyebrow.

"Merely an observation," said Remus, mildly. "You strut around in that Sex Pistols t-shirt and all things leather, but it's all the finest quality because you're so upper-class. Your language is appalling, but you're technically very well-spoken. You spent the day joking around with James, but now you're serenading me with your violin. Talk about whiplash."

Sirius extended the bow, and gently prodded Remus's nose with the end. "You can hardly speak."

"Can't I?"

"You speak very correctly-"

"Because I don't feel the need to butcher the English language..."

"-and you essentially live in suits." Sirius plucked thoughtlessly at the strings with one hand; the notes disjointed and strange.

"The difference being that I buy my clothing from second-hand shops," Remus reminded him, nodding pointedly at Sirius's artfully ripped punk t-shirt.

"Well, you should venture out a bit, then," exclaimed Sirius, "seeing as you have a terribly aristocratic boyfriend who is willing to spoil you."

Remus laughed merrily at Sirius's exasperated efforts.

Sirius's face broke out into a smile, and he caressed the violin strings with the bow again, and began to play 'Anarchy In The UK' with gusto.

Remus looked up from his page. "What were you doing in that bathroom? You were gone for a good twenty minutes. And you didn't take the Prophet."

Sirius sighed heavily. "I was running you a bath, if you must know. Pip-pip."

"Are you insinuating that I smell?" Remus teased.

"Frankly, yes," said Sirius, flatly.

Remus's smile dropped. His eyes also narrowed.

"Well, you've been rolling around in some forest all night. All the mud's gone from your face because you've been snuffling into my shirt all day." Sirius lounged against the door to the bathroom with his arms crossed.

The corner of Remus's mouth raised slightly, and he turned down the corner of his page. "You're a real charmer, you know that, Black?"

"And you love me for it, snookums," replied Sirius, pulling the werewolf to his feet by his hand.

They embraced briefly, and Remus murmured his thanks into his lover's ear, before releasing him.

"Joining me?" Remus inquired, cheerfully, as he opened the door to the bathroom.

"Maybe in a bit," replied Sirius, with a playful wink. "Until then, I shall serenade you from out here."

Remus smiled fondly at the raven-haired animagus, before slipping into the bathroom. He closed the door, but didn't bother locking it. He grinned almost wolfishly at Sirius's efforts: the bathtub was 40% hot water, 55% bubbles, and 5% rubber ducks. He stripped off quickly, and eased himself into the bath, revelling in how perfect the temperature of the water was.

He examined a near-floating rubber duck, and found that it was a punk-themed one that Lily had purchased for Sirius the previous year.

Sirius had been utterly confused by the gift – what was the purpose of the yellow plastic? Why was it shaped like a cartoon duck? Why was he supposed to put it into a bath? Why were muggles so fucking strange?

Suffice to say, Lily had taken every opportunity to buy him new rubber ducks for every gift-giving occasion since.

Remus and Sirius were now proud parents of an army of rubber ducks.

Remus smiled fondly at the duck sat on his palm, and carefully returned it to the water, where it bobbed happily again. He leant his head back against the edge of the bath-tub, and closed his eyes.

A while later, Sirius edged into the bathroom, arms juggling his violin, a bottle of firewhiskey, two shot glasses, and a packet of cigarettes.

"Good evening, my love," said Sirius, setting the assorted items down atop the laundry basket. He disappeared back into the living room briefly; returning with a simple wooden chair, which he sat upon opposite Remus. He set himself to pouring out whiskey, and handed a shot to Remus.

Wordlessly, they consumed them at the same time, and grinned at each other.

Sirius passed the cigarettes to Remus, and picked up his violin again, picking out a tune which was grungy and elastic, his fingers furiously working the strings, though his face showed no strain from the effort.

Remus lit a cigarette, letting the smoke mingle oddly with the steam from the bath water and the bubbles.

Sirius smiled, and shifted off the chair and onto the floor, leaning against the pipe to the sink, his long legs stretched out.

"You're entirely too sweet to me after the moon," mused Remus, breathing in earthy smoke with relish. Muggles and their strange habits weren't so bad after all.

"You deserve it," replied Sirius, instantly, heartily. "You deserve more."

"Hardly," Remus scoffed; still unable to quite understand Sirius's utter, unwavering devotion to him.

"You don't see yourself clearly," said Sirius, "you need to stare into the mirror more often."

"I'm not so vain as you, Siri," smiled Remus, tapping ash into the water. "Or as pretty."

"I'm not pretty, I'm manly and handsome," Sirius corrected him; punctuating his words with a chirpy scale. "As are you." His tone left no arguments, and he launched into a rendition of 'Blue' by Joni Mitchell.

Remus listened to his boyfriend play for a while, smoking silently, before stubbing it out on the side. "James quoted her once."

"Hmm?" Sirius twiddled with a string, causing it to make the most curious sound...

"When you and I started dating. James and I were listening to the 'Blue' album, and he replayed the line: 'Go to him. Stay with him if you can, but be prepared to bleed'. He said that was what dating you was like. He was very distrustful of your intentions back then, wasn't he?"

Sirius snorted. "As though I'd fuck and leave you. Christ, he didn't have much faith in me, did he?"

"He does now, though," said Remus, mildly. He poured them more shots of firewhiskey.

Sirius took one, and tossed it down his throat with ease, before continuing to play. He settled easily into 'A Case Of You'.

Remus placed his newly-empty shot glass down upon the tiled floor, and settled down into the water again, eyes closed softly, listening to the comforting sounds of his lover playing him to a much-needed sleep.