A/N: Just a lovely little denial fic with a happy ending.

Pairing: Remus/Sirius

Rating: T

Warning: Erm…teenage boys' skewed views on life and homosexuality? Oh, and slash, of course.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never was, never will be. Don't rub it in.

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Remus Lupin and Sirius Black are not gay. They are completely, totally, one-hundred percent straight.

They just happen to shag each other on a regular basis.

That doesn't make them gay, though. No. Two blokes can shag without being gay. Remus and Sirius are living proof of that. They shag, and they are as straight as straight can be. No, really. They are.

Truthfully, it is impossible for them to be gay. They are manly. They don't skip around in frilly knickers, wearing glitter and all sorts of makeup. A poof would do that, but since they aren't poofs, the only thoughts of frilly knickers entertained in their minds are related to the girls wearing them. And it doesn't really matter that Sirius secretly thinks that David Bowie's glitterific makeup is fantastic looking, and would love some glitter of his own. Because that is only a thought that flickers in his mind every once in a while, as his head is usually too busy being filled with things like scantily-clad girls and food and Quidditch. The sport, of course, not the male players who look incredible in those robes, all sweaty and sticking in just the right places.

Then there are girls. Sirius and Remus fancy girls, of course. Not blokes. Because gay men fancy blokes, and straight men fancy birds. Since they are straight, they fancy birds. Birds, with their soft skin and delicious curves and rather large knockers. None of which blokes have. And the fact that Remus prefers to date quite flat-chested girls with hair not falling below their shoulders doesn't make him fancy birds any less. He just thinks that big tits and long hair get in the way.

This really should be enough evidence to convince anyone they aren't gay. Remus and Sirius both know that it is sufficient to convince themselves that they are comfortably heterosexual. But when James approached Sirius about Sirius's rather odd behavior when it came to Remus, he didn't seem to take the we're manly and we fancy birds arguments too well. No, the prat insisted. You and Mr. Moony are completely, totally, one-hundred percent gay.

But they aren't, and that is that. It isn't even like they fancy each other or anything. They don't. They are like brothers, for Merlin's sake! But they are horny teenage boys that share a dormitory, and James has Lily and Peter has a girlfriend, too. It is only natural that they turn to each other for some…sexual relief. Because that's all it is. No feelings involved whatsoever.

They don't find each other attractive, of course, because straight blokes don't find other straight blokes attractive. Sirius doesn't secretly think that Remus is adorable whilst asleep when he goes to visit his friend in the hospital wing after the full moon, and he certainly doesn't propose staring contests constantly just so he can drown in Remus's amber eyes. And Remus doesn't love prank planning sessions because of the way that Sirius's eyes light up when he comes onto something brilliant, and he never feels the urge to run his fingers through Sirius's silky hair.

No, Sirius only thinks that Remus looks exhausted in the hospital wing, and he challenges Remus to staring contests because he is awful at them and wants to win eventually. And Remus only likes to plan pranks because he thinks the process to be interesting, and he can't think of a time when he wanted to touch Sirius's hair. Because this is how straight blokes think, and they are straight blokes.

They only shag, anyway. There's no relationship involved at all. It's not like they date, obviously. They only accompany James and Lily and Peter and his girlfriend when the four go on double dates because there is nothing else better to do. It's certainly never a triple date, because Remus and Sirius aren't dating. They always pay for their own meals and never think of how nice the other looks in the candlelight. And there certainly aren't any goodnight kisses. None at all.

It isn't even as if they hold hands! This is something that gay blokes do, and since they don't, it almost certainly proves their heterosexuality. They always keep their hands to themselves, thank you very much. Those two times that their fingers may have intertwined don't count at all. They were watching a film at a Muggle cinema for one, and holding hands made it easier to share the arm rest. That was the only reasoning for it, because who were they to let a perfectly good armrest to go to waste? They were in Hogsmeade for the other, and only held hands then because it was cold, and they were at risk for frostbite. And everyone knows that hand holding is much better for keeping you warm than heating charms. If only damn, smirking, infuriating Lily Evans believed them. The girl is too stubborn for her own good, most definitely, and had a very skewed view on life.

Something very important to note (and Remus and Sirius find this particular fact extremely imperative) is that gay couples kiss. As they are neither gay nor a couple, they never kiss. No, not at all. They snog, and there is a very big difference.

Snogging is frantic, with tongues and teeth and heat and passion, none of that poofy romance stuff. They only ever snog, with nipping and biting and no concern for being careful. It is perfectly acceptable for two men to snog without them being gay.

Kissing, however, is another matter, which was why they never kiss. Those times when their lips met softly, when they were drowsy and sweaty and spent, weren't kisses. The feather-like brushes of lips and hints of tongue were simply the beginnings of gentle snogging sessions that they were too tired to finish. Nothing more.

It can't be more.

They only ever sleep together—sleep, all night, in the same bed—when they are too exhausted to move. It isn't romantic or anything; it's just sleep. Waking up wrapped in each other's arms—breathing the same air and pressing skin against skin—isn't romantic, either. It is simply the way they fell asleep, and that is that. The private smiles they share inside the closed bed hangings are purely smiles between mates, best mates. And they don't kiss—no, snog—because they feel so special in bed together, like they belong to each other, like nothing will ever change that.

Because gay men think that way, and they aren't gay.

And—and this is the final thing that they repeat to themselves, when they are going through their mental lists of reasons for why they are not gay—they aren't in love. Certainly, if they are gay, they would fall in love. Because they shag regularly and are best mates and appreciate each other's looks in a completely straight way, and if they were looking for a woman, they would want said woman to be exactly like the other, except female, because straight men fancy females. And seeing as they most certainly aren't in love and don't want to spend the rest of their lives together and never entertain fantasies of making love in a flat of their own (because they didn't make love now, considering they aren't in love), it is obvious they aren't gay.

They are straight.

Completely straight.

Not even a little bit gay in any way whatsoever.

This is what Sirius is thinking as he stands up, marching over to Remus, fists balled, a determined look in his eyes. He is thinking of all of the completely straight feelings that he is having when Remus looks up from his book, amused. And whilst Remus places a marker in his novel, standing up to levelly meet Sirius's eyes, Sirius is focusing on his straight feelings and pushing the niggling gay-like emotions to the back of his mind. Not though he has any gay-like emotions, of course.

"You have girlish lashes," Sirius tells Remus, his tone steely.

Remus catches on quickly, and his voice is cool. "You have girly full lips," he counters, as it is indeed true. Sirius resists the urge to touch his full lips as he searches for something else.

"You have female-like wrists," he shoots out, eyeing Remus's slim wrists.

"You have nicer hair than most birds in school."

Sirius is not going to let Remus beat him with his girlish characteristics. Because he is manly. This is something else completely, something that Sirius needs. He has deluded himself into thinking maybe, if he can prove that Remus is girl-like, his feelings will become less gay and more straight, as he is. Straight.

"You like Gone With the Wind."

Remus raises an eyebrow. If they weren't in the middle of a showdown, he would point out how Gone With the Wind is not only a love story, but a well-written fictional southern perspective of the American Civil War and Reconstruction. Even if he does think that Scarlett and Rhett are perfect for each other.

"You like trashy romance novels," Remus finally says, because, really, there are no other reasons for liking trashy romance novels other than the fact that you like trashy romance.

Sirius sees through Remus's thinking, and unfortunately has no defense for it. He decides that blurting out, "It's all Narcissa's fault!" wouldn't work, even though it is true. She is the one who locked him in that bloody cupboard when he was ten, and the only thing to keep him entertained was Autumn Passion. Yes, it scarred him for life, but it started an addiction that he attempted to hide from everyone else.

Sirius decides to move on to other reading material. "You think that Playwizard magazine is vulgar."

"You only steal copies of James's Quidditch Weekly to ogle the sweaty blokes," Remus snaps back.

How does he know that? Sirius wonders briefly, but finds something else.

"You only dated Kate Everett because she has short hair and no tits."

Remus resists the urge to point out how utterly tit-less Arabella Vane, Sirius's last girlfriend, is, but decides to hit Sirius where it hurts.

"Your favorite thing about David Bowie is his glitter."

Sirius is beginning to wonder if Remus is a bloody mind reader, because he most certainly did not tell anyone how much he likes glitter. So he decides to find an actual reason why Remus is girly and he is manly, besides Remus's favorite reading material and long eyelashes. Because, believe it or not, there are some actual instances of evidence…sort of.

"You brought me to that Muggle film where we held hands!" Sirius shouts. It is the first time either of them has brought up the hand-holding, even thought it took place four months ago. At the time, they made some sort of silent agreement to never speak of it. Sirius figures that the agreement can be broken now, though, in the middle of their heated prove-the-other-is-more-girlish row. Although he's really not sure if it can be classified as a row, even. It is more like shooting off facts in loud voices for their own personal gains.

But Remus isn't about to let Sirius win with his piece of real evidence. He has plenty of his own. "You insisted that we accompany Prongs and Wormtail on their double dates!" he yells back at Sirius, because it was Sirius who grabbed Remus's arm and pulled him into the Three Broomsticks after James, Peter, and their dates.

Sirius sighs, exasperated. He doesn't like being outsmarted, or equally-smarted. He likes winning. And even though what he is about to say could qualify on Remus's list entitled The Ten Daftest Things Sirius Black Has Ever Said, it doesn't matter anymore. Because he is going to win this, whatever it is. He doesn't even know anymore. All he knows is he is not a girl, and Remus's lips look very nice, and there is the slightest, tiniest, most miniscule chance that he possesses a small amount of homosexual feelings.

Sirius decides to stop thinking (it isn't as if his muddled thoughts are doing much good, anyway), and, taking a ridiculously deep breath, screams, "You made me fall in love with you!"

The world doesn't stop turning, as Remus suspected it would if Sirius Black ever said those words to him. The world, in fact, keeps on turning, and Remus doesn't even have time to think before screaming back, "Well, you made me fall in love with you, too!"

Then there are lips meeting and tongues pushing and wet heat, with thrusting hands and a hazy sense of reality. Bodies fall onto a bed, and it is snogging but so much more, and somehow fingers intertwine amidst it all.

When they pull away, they are panting and their lips are tingling and for some reason, their hands are still clasped together. Their eyes meet, amber boring into gray, and Remus is the first one to speak.

"Damn you, Sirius," Remus says softly, although there is no anger in his voice. "Damn you; you made me gay."

There is this odd bubble of laughter in Sirius's throat, and he has to gurgle it out before he can reply.

"Damn you in return," Sirius says, and his tone matches Remus's, except for the slightly hysterical edge. "You spread your gay to me."

They look at each other for another moment before bursting out into laughter, rolling onto their backs and squinting their eyes shut as all sorts of giggles and chuckles work their way out of their bodies. When the laughter dies down, they are looking up at the ceiling, but their fingers are still interwoven.

"Now we're shirt-lifters," Remus says, breaking the silence again and shuddering a bit at the term.

"Poofs," Sirius adds.

"Nancies."

"With frilly knickers."

"And glitter."

"And no birds."

Remus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "We'll think of how the other looks beautiful in the candlelight."

"And we'll go out on romantic dates."

Sirius can imagine them clasping hands across the table and discussing the things that they normally discuss together, except the discussion being different. Because they will be they, a them, together, and it'll be better than staring at Remus's and wanting to take it, but refraining.

"We'll go through Hogsmeade holding hands."

Remus can't help but think how nice that sounds. Simply holding hands, without any of the denial. Without any of the lies and evil glares to Lily, for knowing more than they do.

"We'll make love and sleep wrapped in each other's arms," Sirius says, and it really doesn't sound that bad to him. In fact, he finds himself looking forward to it. Having more than just shagging, without having to make excuses.

"We'll say how much we love the other constantly."

Remus rather likes the way the phrase, "I love you, Sirius," rolls off his tongue, although, thus far, his mirror has been the only one to hear it. He imagines that it will be better saying it to Sirius, though, especially if Sirius replies with, "I love you too, Remus."

"We'll even kiss," Sirius says. He curses his lips for tingling in anticipation, and he curses his brain for the little niggling voice telling him to kiss Remus; now. Then he just simply curses himself for wanting to listen to the voice in his head and kiss Remus sweetly and softly and gaily.

Sirius slowly turns his head to the side, and finds Remus looking back at him. There is an awkward silence between them, which Sirius wants to fill.

"So…?" he attempts.

Remus isn't any more helpful. "So."

"Yeah."

"Mm-hm."

"I want to—" Sirius starts.

"Me too," Remus finishes, knowing what Sirius means. They both shift so they are on their sides, knees touching, just looking at each other.

"So…"

"We should."

"Yes."

They stare at each other for another long, silent moment. Sirius knows that it is ridiculous; they've shagged, for Merlin's sake, and they are getting all awkward over a kiss. But really, he knows that a kiss is much different than shagging and snogging and everything else they've done. It's more. So much more.

"Sod this," Remus says, breaking Sirius's chain of thought. Before Sirius can blink, Remus has his lips pressed against Sirius's. It is soft and gentle and perfect, and gay, very gay, because they are two completely, totally, one-hundred percent gay men. And they are kissing, and it feels so very right, and Sirius decides that next time he is in denial about something, he's going to try to get out sooner.

When they pull away, Remus's girly lashes are lowered, and Sirius's full lips are red. There is a hand clasped around Remus's slim wrist, and a different hand entangled in Sirius's hair. And they are very, very gay and very, very in love and very, very together.

"You made me gay," Remus says playfully, his breath brushing across Sirius's lips.

"You made me love you," Sirius counters in a soft voice.

"I knew that you loved me from the start," Remus teases.

"I pinned you for a complete poofter the moment we met."

"It was predestined, I suppose."

"With no denial involved whatsoever."

"Of course."

"I do blame you for gayness, though."

"And I you. I do believe I could've stayed perfectly straight if it hadn't been for you."

"Really?" Sirius asks.

Remus snorts. "Not really. Remember, we are the blokes that told themselves that they were perfectly straight whilst shagging for over a year."

"You do have a point, my Moony."

"And for our obtuseness, I think we should be punished."

"Really, Mr. Moony?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Padfoot."

"Then let the punishment begin," Sirius smirks, and his lips meet Remus's once again.

After a muttering of a Silencing Charm and a closing of bed hangings, neither man is seen for the rest of the night.