Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

And a Happy New Year!

It would be the first time Peter, James, and Lily had seen Sirius' apartment. With James on tour with his team, and Lily packing and unpacking for months on end, neither one of them got around to visiting Sirius. Peter just never really wanted to, if he were being honest. Not that Sirius minded, Remus noted. It had taken him until November to get everything settled and organized; from uncouth little schoolboy-bastard to a meticulous scholar with his own townhouse, Sirius had transformed into an enigma.

He liked his things to be specific and noticed when things had been moved. The sitting area alone had been rearranged and charmed a handful of times before he'd been satisfied with the result; don't get Remus started about the breakfast room upstairs. There wasn't a speck of green in the house to be accounted for if you didn't count the plants from Marlene; she told him they make good house-warming presents and brighten the rooms. She'd been right. Remus was surprised to find as many photographs as he did when visiting for the first time.

Remus had almost forgotten about his old polaroid; he hardly ever used it anymore. A few photos had been taken on holiday, and this is where they ended up. Candids of the boys, impromptus of Remus as he laughed. There had been one where Lily had managed to shove a grape up her nose and couldn't retrieve it, and apparently, this warranted a memory snapshot. Remus smiled fondly at them.

"Will you be wearing that to the party," Sirius asked then, the gaze that raked up and down Remus' body definitely unenthusiastic.

If one didn't know Sirius, they would've picked out a particular edge to his voice that made the hairs prickle on the back of your neck. It sounded harsh and pointed, as though he were accusing you of a war crime.

But Remus knew Sirius, and he knew that he took on such a tone when under pressure. There was no real bite in his words, rather tension and fear. Did he deserve such criticism? No, in one sense. Did he need to change in order to look presentable? Most definitely.

"I could apparate home quickly and change," he offered then, looking down at himself.

Looking at himself, he didn't blame Sirius for wondering. When he'd received the owl, he'd been reading the paper in his small kitchen with a cup of warm tea and biscuits McGonagall had sent for Christmas. With urgency, he'd thrown on whatever was laying out in his bedroom and ended up wearing a pair of cargo shorts in December and a Quidditch sweatshirt. None of it matched, and his socks were a week old; no wonder Sirius scowled upon his arrival. The fashion king did not approve of this look, and Remus was inclined to agree.

Sirius just shook his head, "I've got something that will fit you upstairs."

Shortly, he jerked his apron over his head, throwing it on the counter beside him, and cleaned his hands on a spare rag. Remus' eyes wandered over them, dipped with the curves of his knuckles and the silver rings adorned on his fingers, smiled at the chipped polish and chewed the inside of his lip. Sirius led him up the stairs, but Remus didn't really need a guide. He knew the only reason Sirius was going with him was to make sure he didn't ruin the system in his closet; God forbid he ever mess with his organizations.

Remus admired Sirius from behind. He had chosen a simple outfit – black satin button up, and of course nearly all of them were left unclasped to reveal bare skin, ash slacks, and shiny, chunky boots with a heel. It added an extra three inches to his height, meaning Remus didn't have to crane his neck down so much to look him in the eye. To keep it out of the food, his dark hair was pulled back into a neat bun, loosened strands billowing behind his pierced ears. His gaze remained forward and unbothered – indifferent but aware of Remus' eyes upon him.

Remus loved it when he dressed like this; his shirt showed off the toned body he'd acquired as a beater. It required plenty of upper body strength and cardio, and if Remus was being completely honest with himself, the role paid off. Years later, even after he'd given up the sport, he was still in immaculate shape, and it took everything in Remus, and others, not to stare.