Domestic Morning After

"Thank you," Sirius says abruptly. Remus blinks. "You're welcome. Wait, for what?" "For taking care of me," Sirius murmurs as he washes a plate and passes it to Remus. He's not looking at him, and there's a far-away look in his eyes. "You don't have to, and yet you are, and that—means something. That has meaning, like you said. I'd say I'd like to return the favor, but I'd never wish for you to be in a position where you need to be taken care of. But I hope you know that I would. And I hope that has meaning, too." Remus sits the plate down in the sink, shuts off the water, then flicks his fingers. Without a word, he turns and pulls Sirius into his arms. The glass Sirius was holding lands back into the water with a glub and a dull thunk as it settles against the bottom of the sink. In the next second, Sirius' hands come out of the water with a splash, dripping suds as he presses closer eagerly and slides his soapy fingers right into Remus' hair. Sirius melts into the embrace in a way that, quite frankly, makes Remus feel like a god. It's supremely satisfying to have Sirius sink into him as if there's no other place he'd rather be, and that's nothing compared to how devastatingly wonderful it is to be holding Sirius at all. "You do," Remus says when he pulls away, completely breathless. "You already do take care of me, Sirius, more than you could ever know." Sirius hums, eyes still shut as he leans into Remus, looking soft and satisfied like Remus touching him has gotten him a little high. A smile curves his mouth, a tempting slope that Remus wants to press his mouth to—but he doesn't. He refrains, somehow, and settles for pressing a quick, fleeting kiss to Sirius' temple, far too tender to be anything other than a big, flashing sign for how he feels about Sirius. "Oh, hello. Hi. Greetings. Good fucking morning, everybody," Sirius announces when Remus pulls away, and he's grinning now, then he's tossing his head back and cackling like he's just told the best joke. He sounds exhilarated. "Stop it," Remus says, amused. He gives Sirius a little push. "Go get changed." "The dishes—" "I can do the dishes, Sirius, it's fine." "I'll help you, then go change," Sirius says anyway, then bites his lip as he gazes at Remus in amusement. "I got suds in your hair, Remus. Let me just—" Somehow, Sirius' hands in his hair lead to them laughing quietly together, playful and happy, and it takes them a while to actually finish the dishes.