💋 for what my muse would say to the person trying to woo your muse.
There’s a lot of people at the pub for a Wednesday night, but Sirius hardly notices since his eyes focused on - and only on - a pretty, pale neck he just wants to go over and kiss. He wonders what it is about Remus that makes him so damn addictive, because they see each other every single day (they live together, after all) yet he still can’t seem to get enough of him. He’s waiting at the front of the bar for the bartender to make their drinks while Remus is sitting at one of the tables, when he notices a tall, good looking man with bright blue eyes approaching Remus. The man doesn’t bother asking if Remus is with anyone and instead, sits in the empty chair at their table.
His gut reaction, of course, is annoyance. Sirius already has half a mind to go over and tell the other man to back off, but he knows Remus can handle himself. So he watches, annoyance slowly turning into amusement as blue eyes starts to chat up his boyfriend. The music’s too loud and there are far too many people around him to properly listen in to their conversation, but by the looks of it, he’s telling Remus how much he likes his jacket (and Sirius scoffs, because that’s his jacket) and offering to buy him a drink. Sirius doesn’t know if Remus is too nice to say no or is genuinely oblivious to the fact that this man is looking for more than a friendly chit-chat, but he almost feels bad for the other man.
His fingers are tapping a song into the counter when their drinks finally come out, and with a whiskey in one hand and a gin-and-tonic in the other, Sirius lazily saunters over to Remus and his new company, practically slamming the drinks onto the table as he arrives. No one ever said he wasn’t a drama queen.
“Oh, my bad, did I interrupt - ?” He stammers, feigning embarrassment as he lets go of the drinks and walks around to stand behind where Remus is sitting. There, he doesn’t waste time in wrapping his arms around Remus’ chest from the back, propping his chin on top of Remus’ head, smiling. “I know he’s gorgeous but sorry,” he says to the blue-eyed gentleman, although he’s really not sorry at all. “He’s mine.”
