Written by accioromulus on Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485734?view_full_work=true

Sirius’s thoughts are a slow-moving, impending disaster. How he wants to pin Remus up against the cupboards, to crowd him into a corner; how he wants to intertwine their fingers, to brush his lips against Remus’s forehead, his jaw. Instead, he settles for ducking his head and sliding a finger through the belt loop in Remus’s denim jeans—a ridiculous gesture so utterly intimate, even for the pair of them, that he only allows it because he’s just drunk enough.

“Stop stealing my bloody clothes, Lupin.” He says, very quietly.

Remus looks up at him, eyes dark, and murmurs pleasantly: “Better learn to do your own laundry then, Black. Consider it my fee.”

***

It was an impossible thing, living with Remus Lupin--but Sirius was doing it anyway.