Disclaimer: checks Nope, they're still not mine. However, I'm just playing and will put them back.

A/N: Written for day four of LJ's Tell Me A Kiss fanfic challenge; the prompt was "concert." Also used the prompt, "I do not hate you" from The Writer's Book of Matches.

Part Two: Morning After

Sirius sleeps soundly, until the combination of sunlight seeping in through the window he forgot about and the sound of someone retching wake him up. It's a quick process: instantly, his mind jumps to Remus, and his body – thinking it's in a bed – tries to spring into action; unlike his usual, graceful self, he plummets to the floor. There's an initial stinging sensation in his arms, legs, and back, but it'll have to wait. Remus is far more important than passing aches. Sirius scrambles to his feet and listens…from the sound of it, Remus made it into the bathroom, even though he's ill, bloody cleanliness-obsessed werewolf. He could've just been sick on the rug, and, considering last night, Sirius would not have minded in the least.

Besides, it's not like they went to school for nothing; they could cast a simple Scourgify and be done with it. Sighing, he shambles over to the bathroom, scratching his head and yawning…the door, it seems, is closed; he tries the handle and finds that Remus has locked it. Merlin, he's upset. Bloody, stupid…but, then again, after last night, he's bound to be upset, even if he doesn't remember anything, might as well respect the lad and not cast Alohomora, keep him from getting too upset. So, instead, Sirius leans against the doorframe and knocks out a spirited rhythm on the door; an indecipherable groan comes from behind it.

"Moony?" he calls, hopefully sounding more concerned to Remus than he does to himself.

"What?" Remus croaks. Damn, he sounds angry…not a good sign.

"You okay?"

"Well, Sirius…I woke up hung over and undressed, in an unfamiliar bed, fighting a very powerful urge to vomit on the carpet! Given all this, I'd say it's pretty certain that I'm not okay!"

"D'you want any help?"

"No, Sirius, I'm fine! I can take care of myself, thank you!"

Fine then, he's going to be a stubborn, irritable git…Sirius is just going to have to force him to eat a proper bloody breakfast and take some Hangover Potion then. Yawning again, he proceeds into the tiny kitchen, rummages through the refrigerator (some mad Muggle invention Remus told him about once; works better than Cooling Charms and it's damn interesting too), and sets about the task of scrambling some eggs. For flavor, he adds cheese – cheddar, Remus' favorite – and some tomatoes (another thing Remus is fond of), and gets another pan, which he begins frying bacon in. While everything tends to itself, he gets the potion out of the cupboard and mixes it in some orange juice; he would use tea, but finds the box of tea bags empty. Ah well, there'll be time later to buy more.

And Remus is going to eat, drink, and talk sensibly, or Sirius will make him incredibly sorry that he hasn't. And he's going to be honest too…not for the first time in forever, but for the first time in a very long time. He's so bloody closed-off, it's infuriating…lucky for Remus that he's impossible to hate, or else there would undoubtedly be problems here. Not especially serious problems, but…problems nonetheless. And it's completely ridiculous too. All Sirius wants to do is help him, and he…bugger, the bacon's going to be crispy. Conveniently in time to watch Sirius whip the pan of bacon off of the stove, Remus appears in the kitchen doorway, looking pale, sluggish, harassed, and utterly incredulous. He cocks an eyebrow, and his hair looks like he's tried and failed to calm it several times; Sirius grins at his listless frown, hoping that it will mollify him…it doesn't.

It does get him to sit at the table, though, which is a decided improvement. Sirius notes with…some sort of perhaps-maybe-kind of-happiness, that, although he's presently hung over, Remus is at least stable in his seat. However, other things distract from that as he sets the food, plates, and silverware on the table. In addition to the aftereffects of last night, Remus appears to have gone through his stuff to find a jumper, which is a good size and a half too big for him and makes him look that much worse. Even through the fabric, his vertebrae poke through the back delicately as he slumps onto the table, placing his head on his folded forearms.

"I can't stay long," he huffs. "I already made you sleep on your own couch…"

"It's not a problem," Sirius affirms strongly as he sits down with the orange juice. "I chose to bring you home and sleep on the couch, and I wouldn't have if I thought you'd be a problem."

"But why-"

"I couldn't just leave you at the reception, or ditch you at your place, could I, and in the state you were in?"

"I dunno…why am I here in the first place?"

Sirius shrugs simply; this should be obvious, but apparently not. "You were drunk? Reason enough for you?"

He lifts his head and gives Sirius a half-hearted glare. "I guessed that, but…I don't remember the reception past when…when James and Kingsley gave Peter ten Galleons to ask Mad-Eye to dance, and then he did."

"Yeah, that was hysterical-"

"Sirius! What happened? Why am I here?"

"Well…" he explains moderately, "when I found you, you were getting into your fifth of Captain Redbeard's, and you were…absolutely trashed, beyond drunk."

"This isn't going to end well, is it?"

"Let me finish. We talked, you snapped at me, we danced-"

"What!"

"I offered, you accepted; don't shoot the bloody messenger, and let him finish his story already. Anyway – you ran away in the middle, we talked again, you called me a bad friend in there somewhere, I took away your sixth but you took it back and drank it anyway, and then you-"

"Oh Merlin, I didn't…did I?" He winces, and then pinches his temples; the bridge of his nose comes next.

"Depends on what you're thinking, because you did a lot, mate…and drink this, you'll feel better."

He expertly slides the glass around all the other sundries on the table and, for once since leaving school, Remus doesn't think deeply and accepts something offered to him without any complaint. This is a big step for him, even if it's something as small as orange juice laced with Hangover Potion. And he actually drinks some of it too – conservative sips at first, and then emphatic swigs. Most excellent.

"So…" he sighs, coming up for breath. "What did I do?"

"Not too much," Sirius says mildly. "Said a few things, most of it angry and directed at me-"

"Oh, Sirius…I'm sorry-"

"Don't be; you were drunk, and we're going to talk about it in a minute."

"…Okay, right…talk. Talking's good…so…what'd I say?"

"Well, you called me a bad friend-"

"You said that already."

"Oh, right. Uh…you mentioned that you'd need to be even more drunk to dance with Wormtail, implied that Lily and Alice only danced with you out of pity, said you fancy blokes, and then you snogged me and passed out on my shoulder."

Apparently, even with a blander than History of Magic explanation, this whole mess is quite a lot to process – and rightly so – and Remus heaves himself up and sinks back into his seat, clutching onto the glass for dear life. The food still hasn't been touched, but that's what Warming Charms are for. Granted, he did say that he'd been trying to keep everything a secret, so maybe it's more that someone knows making him upset than having to come to terms with reality. Okay, maybe he has to reconcile with the fact that he was drunker last night than he'd ever been before, but, hopefully, there won't be a need for Sirius to talk him through his sexuality too…no, wait. If that happens, there might be hugging, hair stroking, and kissing, and Remus is a good kisser drunk, so he must be smashing while sober. And his hair is quite soft…yeah, Sirius can live if Remus needs that, but he can't tell; Remus is being difficult and unreadable, and his eyes are pointed at his knees, so Sirius can't even see hints of what he's thinking.

"…I should go," he sighs brokenly.

"Why?" Sirius demands, not caring that he sounds petulant. "I made breakfast!"

"…I…you probably, well…I wouldn't be surprised if you hate me now…"

"I don't hate you."

"Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe?"

"Why in the name of Merlin's multifaceted mango would I suddenly go from being your best mate to hating you?"

"…Because I got drunk and made you kiss me? And you like birds?"

"Remus John Lupin, I do not hate you, especially not over that; that's a pretty pathetic reason to hate someone, don't you think? Besides, it was nice."

"…It was?"

"Yes, amazingly nice, in fact. Better than any kiss I've gotten from a skirt, let me tell you. Now the only thing I want to know is: was that you, or was it the rum?"

"It was me," he huffs acquiescingly. "Mostly me, anyway…I can't really remember it, but…it was me, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Well, if I hadn't been drunk, I never would've kissed you. I mean…I've wanted to for…not quite forever, but a very long time-"

"So why didn't you?"

"I was afraid I'd scare you, or you wouldn't like me anymore, or something…my parents had enough trouble with me being a werewolf, they found out about this, and…well, needless to say, it wasn't pretty…"

"…But I'm not your parents, and I still like you, and-"

"I didn't know that before, but I guess alcohol makes me not care."

"Yeah, it has that effect on people in general. But it was you last night, right?" Remus nods solemnly. "Excellent."

"…Wait, why is it excellent?"

"Because now I can ask you something without feeling like I'm taking advantage of you."

"What?"

"Remus John Lupin, also known as Moony: will you move in with me?"

Finally, Remus looks up at him; his skin is close to white, his eyes are no longer blurry, but there's a thin film of tears building up to compensate for this. When Sirius opens his mouth to speak, words fail him, so he makes Remus a plate of food instead, puts a fork on it, and shoves it across the table. Although he's shaking, he nods and begins to eat. This is the first time he's had Sirius's cooking, but it looks like he's enjoying it, but then…he's also bound to be starving, and that's really the only thing that's wrong with this picture. Well…Sirius needs a shower, he's well aware of that, and Remus needs to move in with him and be fed on a more regular basis. Oh, and they need tea, since Sirius enjoys it and Remus has been known to go mental for the last tea bag, but…right now, with the two of them having breakfast together, it's absolutely wonderful, and Sirius can't ask for more. Then Remus looks up at him with a smile, and he revises that notion.

"Don't you think we'd be skipping a few steps, though?" he asks quietly, but pleasantly.

Sirius is completely confused: he wants it, Remus looks like he wants it, and no one's complaining…so, what's there to keep it from happening? Everything is completely in concert with their needs and wants, it's better for Remus, the only person Sirius can think of who'd say anything is one they haven't seen since graduation (thank Merlin for that too…bloody Snivel…Snape…he's officially been "Snape" for a while, but, damn it's hard to get used to calling him that)…and no one likes him anyway. But Sirius likes Remus, more than he knew before, apparently, and the only thing he can think of is that he wants to protect the man sitting across from him…his verbalization of this, though, doesn't quite come out right:

"Like what?"

"Well, a first date, a first exchange of no-reason-at-all presents, first kiss-"

"I'll give you the other two, but we had a first kiss last night."

"But I don't remember it…and I have other conditions as well."

"Okay. What are they?"

"One – you will move my stuff; there's not much, but you're better at Apparating with more than clothes and a book-bag. Two – you will get a new mattress, since, if I'm moving in, I don't intend to sleep on the couch, and I don't think you want to either-"

"You'd be correct in that assumption, Mister Moony."

"And I'm only doing this under the assumption that we're going to call ourselves a couple-"

"I could mark my territory, but that would be tacky, so, yes."

"So we're sharing a bed. And your mattress doesn't have hardly enough space."

"Okay, we fix the mattress problem. Anything else?"

"Three – you get off your arse, get over here, and kiss me. Right now."

"Demanding little bugger, aren't you?"

"I can go home right now, you know. I don't have to move in with you."

"But…you can't do everything by yourself…"

"I can go back to trying, though…unless you're just playing with me…"

"Why would I-"

"Then get off your arse, get over here, and kiss me."

Sirius is tempted by the prospect of making some comment about hard bargains, but thinks better of it and decides to just listen, for once. He's by Remus's side in an instant, one knee on the chair and one hand on Remus's knee to keep his balance. This time, he initiates, but comes again…though, he must admit, it's definitely nicer to kiss Remus without being pulled into it by an uncomfortable tie. And this time, they don't taste like conflicting alcohols. Even the vomit aftertaste's gone, so either Remus cast Scourgify on his mouth, or Sirius's cooking is just that good. Once tongue enters the equation, it's too hard to keep balance this way, and Sirius slides his other knee onto the chair as well. He's careful not to put too much of his weight on Remus, sliding one hand onto Remus's shoulder and the other behind his head; Remus pushes himself up, closing the distance between their chests.

Later that day, on the new mattress, with the eight boxes Sirius Apparated over from Remus's dingy little flat (most of it was books) stacked up by the bedroom door and another square meal prepared with love, Sirius finds himself underneath a warm, incredibly cuddly werewolf. Strangely enough for turning into a canine every month, Remus purrs when Sirius strokes his brown hair – it's livelier now that he's moved in, even if he hasn't completely gotten rid of the other flat yet; his eyes seem to sparkle more, which can't be bad. Humming some indecipherable tune, he wriggles closer to Sirius's face, which allows Sirius to grab onto his arse, rather than his waist; he giggles and nuzzles Sirius's neck, sneaking in a slight kiss.

"I have one more condition, by the way," he whispers affectionately, sounding like he's containing a laugh.

"Oh no, dear me," Sirius chuckles, kissing his forehead. "Whatever could it be?"

"You're going to make me dinner every night…you cook better than I do."

"In all fairness, love, I was planning on it."

"Mmm…perfect."

"Just like you?"