wolfstar microfic for the Wolfstar Comfort Fest · prompt: Sleepy · word count: 1958 · tw: memory issues (nothing angsty)
Remus woke up with the gentle caress of the winter sun on his face and the distant crowing of the neighbours' rooster, who had that stupid fixation on screaming as soon as the sun was out.
It had been something that had bothered Remus for years, but now that he was almost 80, he had accepted that this was one of those things that made life colourful and enjoyable, because, even if the horrible sounds the rooster let out woke him up too early for his liking, they also provided him with the pleasure of enjoying his husband’ sleeping face.
Sirius’ skin shined like a pearl when the sun hit it, and Remus had to resist the urge of outlining his jawline with his fingers as he had done so many countless times before. His closed eyes were decorated by wrinkles and those long eyelashes that Remus loved to lick slowly before sleeping, and his mouth was half-open as he breathed slowly and calmly.
During his long life, Remus had lived a lot of things. He had experienced sorrow, sadness and grief. He had laughed so much that his stomach had hurt afterwards, and he had learned that love was something worthy of feeling openly and honestly, without fear or doubts.
In his 77 years of life, Remus still smiled to himself when he woke up earlier than his husband and had the privilege of just staring at him, without obstacles or the time playing against them.
Normally, it would take Sirius more time to wake up, and by the time he did, Remus would already have the breakfast ready for them —two slices of toast, one with avocado and ham, the other one with tomato and cheese, a boiling black coffee and a sweet tea with milk.
This time, Sirius woke up before Remus could enjoy his view for a little longer. He opened one eye first, then the other, then he blinked, slowly, until he got used to the sunlight.
His eyes roamed around the ceiling, until they fell on Remus, and, just by that gaze, Remus immediately knew.
‘Good morning, Moony. Getting ready for work?’
Neither Remus or Sirius had worked for the last 20 years of their life, and, normally, Sirius would remember that.
However, there were moments like that one, more often as they got older, when Sirius would remain stuck in the past, thinking Remus and he were still 40 or 50 or, sometimes, 30.
It had been the biggest issue after escaping Azkaban, Sirius’ memory. It had meant long nights crying and never-ending days panicking when he suddenly came back from a lapse, but it had also meant Remus comforting Sirius and accepting him the way he was.
It had not been easy for neither of them, for Sirius to feel helpless and in constant loss, for Remus to see him like that. But they had learnt to live with it and, as they got older, it just became part of their routine, the fact that some days Sirius would act as if he was younger and Remus would let him have his way.
'No, Pads, today we have the day off,' he said easily, already used to it.
'Oh, really? That's nice,' Sirius answered with a sleepy smile on his face, and Remus couldn't resist the urge to kiss it softly. They both laughed into the kiss, and the rooster outside crowed again, such an attention-seeker.
'We can fall asleep again for a bit, we've earned it, right?' Remus murmured against his husband's lips, and Sirius hummed in reply, his hand finding Remus' cheek and cupping it gently.
Sirius' sleepy gaze travelled across Remus' face, until it stopped on his hair, and he frowned.
'Oh? What's wrong?' Remus asked, even though they had already lived this situation a hundred of times, but he had always been known for his patience, and especially for his care when it came to Sirius.
'Your hair is white,' Sirius pouted comically, and Remus had to resist the urge to laugh.
'Yeah, it is. Don't you like it?'
At this, Sirius' frown relaxed as he blinked slowly, his absent gaze still analysing Remus.
'You look hot,' he stated with pure satisfaction, and Remus sniggered at this. 'Why are you laughing? It’s true.'
Sirius' hands found Remus' sides and he tickled him merciless, making him laugh louder and uncontrollably.
'Sirius, stop!' Remus cackled, and Sirius did, only to kiss him again.
He tasted like morning breath, something that Remus had found himself loving more and more with time. Maybe that was love, right?
Sirius' thumb brushed against Remus' cheekbone, outlining it calmly, while a soft breeze of morning air entered the half-open window and gave them goosebumps.
'I'm going to close the window, and then we will sleep again. How does that sound?' Remus whispered.
'I'd love that. And maybe, later, we can go for a ride in Stacy?'
Stacy was Sirius' bike, and they had sold it to a younger couple 10 years ago, when their back pain after riding it increased too worryingly.
But Remus was not telling Sirius that, the same way he wasn't telling him about their retirement and about the white in his hair.
He would do, instead, what he did best: take care of him and make him happy, for as long as life let them be together.
'Of course, cariad. But, first, resting.'
And Sirius complied, as he always used to do lately, that bossier side of him wore out with old age.
Remus knew that, when they woke up again, Sirius would not remember any of that, as he might come back as his 80 y.o. self, or maybe he would surprise Remus with any of the other versions he loved the same.
But, in any case, Remus would embrace him warmly, and he would save that memory for the both of them, treasuring it lovingly.
Because, that, too, was love.
