They look ridiculous right now, laying flat on the uncomfortable hardwood floor of the kitchen with a woefully empty bottle of gin between them, heads flush against the Muggle refrigerator. It kicks on noisily. Remus vaguely wonders when was the last time they honest-to-God swept, but decides he can worry about that at a later time.
(That’s always what he thinks. Even sober. It’s why the floor’s not been swept in ages.)
“And it’s because they’re…magentic, yes?”
He says it like magenta, the color, forcing a throaty drunk giggle from Remus’ throat.
“Close, sweetheart, close. They’re magnetic, they’re magnets. The metals have, like, opposite poles or something,”—Remus finds that in this state, it’s a bit difficult, accurately recalling basic science, but reasons that Sirius won’t know any better if he gets part of it wrong—”and it causes them to be attracted to one another.”
“Ahh, Moony, then I must be magnetic to you, eh?” Sirius murmurs lasciviously while squirming closer to Remus. However, the motion of his drunkenly swinging hand upsets the precariously placed magnet (a magnet portraying a chihuahua in a purple bikini and thong, because they are classy gentlemen and would never display a naked chihuahua). The chihuahua falls, as all great dynasties do. Smacks Sirius in the middle of his porcelain forehead, causing him to squawk in pain. Remus guffaws with abandon, sharp gleaming teeth, free, loud.
(Only Sirius gets to see this. Every one else gets the breathy chuckle, muffled into a fist or disguised as a cough.)
When Remus regains his composure, he finally notices the precious cargo in Sirius’ hand. It is a Polaroid of Lily and James at their wedding, previously pinned to the fridge by their fallen comrade.
“You know, Remus,” Sirius says softly, if a little garbled, “we should do this.”
“Take a photo together? We’ve got hundreds.”
“No, you giant twat!” he laughs. His laugh is so beautiful, so gorgeous, and, by God, Remus wants to eat it. “We should get married.” His smile is soft, angelic, dimples and blushing innocence.
(Only Remus gets to see this. Only Remus.)
“Sirius Black,” he says gravely. “Did you just propose to me on the dirty floor of our kitchen after calling me a giant twat?”
Sirius barks out a stunned laugh and adopts a put-upon frown. “What, you don’t like it? You won’t marry me because I called you a twat? I thought that—stop tickling me you bastard!—thought that was part of my charm—really, enough, you fiend!”
Remus has gained the hard-won upper hand, straddling Sirius and pinning him down. He smirks down at Sirius suggestively, then attacks with lightly peppered kisses all over his face and neck as Sirius shouts and feigns displeasure.
Through breathless laughter, Remus gets out, “You silly, imperious, capricious, beautiful, stunning creature, you can’t propose to me on the dirty floor of our kitchen after calling me a giant twat and being completely and utterly trollied, you ridiculous sod.”
Sirius puts on his very best forlorn puppy eyes. It shouldn’t work with slate grey eyes, but it does.
“But Moony,” he whines with adorable petulance, and Remus sees his pale hand scrabbling under the fridge (Disgusting, his mind supples unhelpfully), “I got you a ring and everything.”
The searching hand brandishes a bread twist-tie like a weapon, bent into barely a circle shape. Remus laughs delightedly.
“Ah, Pads,” Remus says fondly, slipping the twist-tie onto his ring finger, “You know I can never say no to you.”
He’s being half facetious.
He’s being more serious than he’s ever been.
“But! I would rather never say no to you when we’re both sober,” he finishes, smiling shyly. Sirius grins crookedly at him, kisses his hair.
“Alright, alright, Moony, point taken, no more playing.”
In the morning, when they’re both murderously hungover, Sirius doesn’t understand how Remus could possibly be surprised, not see it coming, as Sirius bends down on one knee for the real deal, with the real ring that he’s hidden in his sock drawer for weeks, both of them weeping like silly little boys. They take a Polaroid of their happy engagement, and this one is pinned to the fridge with a magnet of a Pomeranian in high heels.
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