Remus looks up from his book, warily.
Sirius trails his eyes up from the sand they lay on to meet Remus’s gaze.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were failing French?” he asks, brows knitted together.
“I got a B,” Remus deadpans.
Sirius grins, planting his chin on his knuckles.
“Okay, sure, but that’s basically failing for Moony standards.”
Remus returns to his book, disgruntled.
“I don’t have standards,” he mutters.
Sirius huffs, giving him a weak slap on the thigh.
“Excuse you. Boyfriend, right here.”
Remus grins. They grow quiet, listening to the sound of the crashing waves hitting the beach, and just enjoying each other’s company.
Remus loves all of his friends, but there’s something so delightful about having Sirius’s time to himself.
“I’m just saying…” Sirius starts again, dragging out the ‘g’ dramatically. “If you needed help, you could have asked me.”
His face grows pink, and he shrugs.
“Didn’t want to,” he says. His eyes drag along the page, not picking up a single word as Sirius stretches against the sand.
The beach date was Sirius’s idea. At first Remus hated even just the idea, but now… he can see the silver linings very clearly.
“Oh, come on,” Sirius says, sweetly, letting sand fall between his fingers. “You’re always helping me with History.”
“That’s because you’re shit at History,” Remus supplies.
“Not my fault the professor drags on about war heroes for decades. If I wanted to learn about murderers, I would have just stayed with my parents.”
This earns Sirius a dark glare, which he retorts with a blinding grin.
Remus sets down his book, focusing his full attention on his clearly bored boyfriend.
Clicking his tongue, he asks, “Why don’t you give it a go now?”
Sirius shoots bolt upright, blue eyes growing wide with child-like excitement.
“Really?” he asks, brushing the sand off his torso.
Remus nods. “Teach me something, Professor Black.”
Sirius scoots closer, giving Remus a very serious (ha) look.
Clearing his throat, Sirius starts.
“—I’m sorry to say your professor is out sick today, and has asked me to step in. Now, where did you guys leave off?”
He raises his brows, and Remus shrugs.
“Oh, let's just start with the basics, then!”
Remus has to stop himself from grinning, instead masking his amusement with simple engagement.
Sirius fixes his invisible set of glasses (in a very James-like fashion), and all of a sudden, his tone drops, in the way it does when he speaks his native tongue.
“I know how to say hello.”
“Oh, oui? Et le salut? Ou d'où êtes-vous?”
Remus shakes his head, giving Sirius a shove.
“This is stupid,” he laughs. “You’re not a teacher, Pads.”
That sets Sirius off, and he begins a tirade in rapid, much more advanced, French that Remus doesn’t understand a word of.
Well, except for maybe putain which he has heard in much different contexts.
Eventually, when Remus has had enough of Sirius’s dramatics, he tilts his head to the side, and leaves a chaste kiss on the other boys’ cheek.
“Je vous aime, Monsieur Black” he says, terribly.