A/N: Written for marilla82, who stumped me in the 'stump the writer meme' and then gave me the randomest prompt ever in 'paper towels.' She knows how long it's been since I've written HP, and she's been trying to poke me back into it for ages. Well you win damnit! You. Win. Expect Regulus soon. :(
Remus' parents closed the front door behind them on their way out roughly thirteen seconds before Sirius fell out of the Lupin fire place, which turned out to be the biggest stroke of luck Remus had had so far in his young life. Sirius stood, in the dissipating green smoke, proudly with his arms crossed over his naked chest, hips jutting forward. What little he was wearing seemed to consist of a plaid tutu, and the big, black boots he wore when they went out into muggle London. Remus closed his eyes and pretended that his friend wasn't mentally unstable.
"So whaddya think?" Sirius asked. He tromped through the living room and leaned against the back of the couch, arms still crossed. Remus hazarded opening one eye, but shut it again when he realized it hadn't been a trick of his imagination. He was an interesting combination of horrified and turned on that he would have liked to study had it been happening in any other place, to any other person. As it was, he just swallowed hard.
When Sirius spoke again, Remus could feel the breath on the back of his neck. All of the hairs the breath touched stood straight up. "Moony, do you have something in your eye?"
"What? Why? Ugh," was all Remus managed to get out before he stalked upstairs to his bedroom and left Sirius behind.
Remus was lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling when the door to his room opened and Sirius peeked his head around the door, looking as sheepish as his naturally haughty nature would allow him to look. "Er…" he said.
Remus sighed the belabored sigh of someone asked to explain basic arithmancy for the millionth time and rolled over so that he was facing the door. "Sirius, why are you wearing a skirt made of paper towels? And where are the rest of your clothes?"
Sirius' chest puffed out a little and he scowled. "S'not a skirt! It's a kilt!"
"Sirius, you're not Scottish. Your family isn't Scottish."
"I go to school in Scotland, doesn't that count?"
"Not particularly. Besides, you can't have a sett if you're French. Where did you even get that design?"
Sirius blushed and closed the door softly behind him. He crossed the room and sat on the bed next to Remus' thigh and placed a hand on it lightly. "It's um, it's your mums family sett."
Remus stared at Sirius for a moment not sure which question to ask first. He finally settled for, "Where did you learn that?"
"Library," Sirius said, as if there couldn't possibly be any other answer.
Remus thought about this for a moment and then moved on to the next question that was niggling at his brain. "Why paper towels, and where did you get them?"
"Oh, saw some bird in a paper dress in London, thought it was brilliant! And em.." he cast his eyes down and studied the carpet. "I nipped them from here."
Remus nodded, as if this was a perfectly normal explanation. Though, when you were dealing with Sirius Black, that was about as normal as it got. "So, you created a kilt of paper towels of no doubt dubious origin, and you flooed to my house wearing it and little else. At what point did your brain say 'this is a sound idea, Sirius Black, you are certainly a god among men' and give in to this madness?"
"I think," said Sirius slowly, as he licked his lips, "that it was about the time it was doing something like this." Sirius leaned into Remus, using the hand on Remus' thigh for balance. Remus shifted, so that he could meet Sirius halfway. Because no matter how daft Sirius actually was, there were few things on the planet that were more enjoyable than his lips and tongue.
When Remus shifted though, a whole new series of events developed. The hand Sirius was using for balance slipped off of Remus' thigh, causing him to fall forward at a faster pace. Because of this, his chin crashed into Remus' nose. Remus yelped and sat up even quicker, which knocked Sirius off the bed altogether. By the time Remus had collected himself Sirius was on his hands and knees on the floor, and the paper kilt was ripped from his left thigh down to the hem. Remus laughed. He wished he had a camera.
"Bollocks!" cried Sirius. "All that work and now I don't even have something to floo home in. What if I accidentally end up in Diagon Alley? I can get taken in for indecent exposure!"
"Oh, I don't know," Remus chuckled. "It looks pretty decent from over here." Sirius frowned. "How about this then, I'll give you a pair of trousers to wear home. They'll be a little tight, but you like that sort of thing anyway, don't you. You tart."
Sirius opened his mouth to deny his tart-hood, when a better idea caught a hold of him. He leaned back onto his heels so that the kilt hung haphazardly off his lap and smiled. "Oh Moony, do you think, I could have the trousers you're wearing now?"
Remus leaned off the bed and stared directly into his eyes in challenge. "Only if you can take them from me before my parents get back home."
Sirius' smile widened. He stood up and took a hold of the paper that clung for dear life around his hips, and ripped it. The paper towel kilt fluttered to the ground. He crawled onto the bed and straddled Remus, fervently working at the button on his trousers. "Don't you want to do something with that, for posterity?" Remus asked, as he leaned forward and licked the dip in Sirius' collar bone.
"Oh, I don't know," said Sirius lazily, as he pushed Remus' shirt up his chest. "It will probably come in handy later."