DAY THREE OF Remus and Sirius' holiday began with a very messy kitchen. Remus awoke later, like usual, and left his bedroom to find Sirius entering the house in nothing but a pair of running shorts and sneakers. His torso was naked, and covered in intricate tattoos of phrases and symbols that the brown-haired boy found himself mesmerized to look at. After a loud 'ahem,' from the spectacle of Remus' interest, the black-haired boy disappeared down the hall for a shower and then came out insisting he make breakfast.

Sirius left the shower with long, wet hair, which dripped all over the hardwood flooring of the kitchen. As this cottage was neither of their own, and they'd spent so little time in the kitchen, there was a lot of fumbling in order to find a pan that would cook their breakfast on the stove. The grey-eyed man wanted to make a dish he called 'garbage,' though he assured the skeptical man that it was indeed quite appetizing.

The dish consisted of scrambled eggs, onions, potatoes, cut up sausage, and spices. At least, that's what Sirius made it with. Apparently, you could also put peppers and the like in it. The black-haired man stirred the scramble of food around in the sizzling pan, all the while Remus leaning against the breakfast bar hungrily. Though he'd become less and less of a fan of eating meat, the sausage even smelled wonderful.

But, Sirius spent so much time showing off his dish that the eggs grew rubbery, and the diced potatoes remained just slightly too hard to be enjoyable. He dished two servings onto plates and offered one to Remus, who took it and ate an experimental bite.

Honestly, the green-eyed man could tell that the 'garbage' was indeed very tasty. The onions were caramelized to perfect, and the sausage left a savory taste on his tongue. Had Sirius spent more time on the potatoes and less time dancing around the kitchen, the breakfast would've been perfect.

"You really know how to cook," Remus complimented, taking another bite from his plate. "My specialty is eggs on toast."

"I like the kitchen," Sirius claimed simply. "Its a nice place to experiment: see what works with what, you know?"

Remus didn't know, not really. He nodded regardless and finished off his helping, declining a second when offered. He was much too full, and his mind was distracted. He couldn't stop thinking about Sirius having come back from a morning run, and then Sirius again sopping wet. An idea crossed over him.

"What do you say you and I spend a day at the beach? We could pack a picnic, maybe-"

"Pack a picnic?" Sirius asked mockingly. "What are we, married?"

Remus frowned. "No, I just thought a day at the beach would be nice..." he trailed. "We could do something else if you don't want to-"

"We? Always a 'we,' Remus. Look, I know we're living together for the week, but that doesn't mean we always need to be together." The grey-eyed man pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's overbearing, honestly."

An indignant look crossed Remus' face. "Overbearing? You're the one that insists on waking me up and taking me out of my comfort zone to ride a motorbike through town!" He stepped closer to Sirius, playful manner erased. "You're the one who's been nothing but a bipolar prat since I showed up. I'm only trying to make things less awkward between us because you and I have nothing in common! Oh wait, I don't actually know that because you don't talk about anything involving yourself. We're always talking about me. I don't like spending my time around someone that I can't trust."

Quietly, Sirius said, "then don't."

He stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Remus a fuming mess. There were dishes everywhere: dirty knives from cutting up the ingredients, onion peels littering the floor, and by accident, the brown-haired boy realized the stove was still on once he'd gone to touch it. "Ouch!"

Remus busied himself with cleaning up the kitchen, muttering to himself how unfair it was that it was him doing it. Sirius made the mess, after all. Why couldn't he clean it? When he was done, he turned out the lights and headed back to his room to change into swimming gear. Even if his temporary roommate wouldn't join him, he was determined to have a nice day at the beach.

—————

The cool water felt like heaven against his toes. The sand had a soft texture against his calloused feet, and the breeze coming off the ocean was pleasant: not too strong, nor weak. It was the perfect condition for sailing, or for just enjoying the view. The water gradually grew darker in color the further out you looked: the further the drop-offs rested. A colorful school of fish swam passed him, and Remus watched them dart through the underwater sand with interest. A body's length away from him, he saw a little crab hole, and hoped a little one might poke out to say hello. One didn't.

The beach was mostly empty – on this section anyways. Further down the dunes, he could see various people: couples, loners, the like, all enjoying themselves. He debated walking that way to go and make a friend, but then he remembered he was in France, a country with a language he was unfamiliar with, in a less touristy part as well. His solace in this dream town was Sirius, and even he wanted nothing to do with him at this time.

Deciding 'to Hell with it,' Remus jumped into the water, swimming outwards slightly until the water went just above his belly button. It was cold, but not unpleasant. He blinked the saltwater from his eyes and pushed his hair back to prevent any disasters, and then lied on his back to float with the current. A breeze picked up again, causing a tremor to move through Remus' body and as he lifted his head, he noticed the way the wind moved the dune grass to make it look like it was dancing. He found this fascinating.

After swimming for awhile longer, watching fish and trying to coax the crab from its hole, Remus resurfaced the shore and lied down on a large towel, allowing the late spring sun to warm his soaked body. As the breeze blew, his nipples hardened, though he still found himself content. This is the life, he thought, this is what Holiday is really about.

He spent the entirety of the day on the beach, watching the beautiful sunset as it streaked across the water. The clouds colored themselves in blue and lavender, and the great ball of light itself emitted a scarlet color with hints of peach and yellow. He didn't leave the beach until the last of the sun kissed the ocean, and then slowly made his way up the dunes towards the cottage. The tides would come in soon, and with them would bring smaller sharks for feeding time, and larger fish for their prey. A more adventurous side of Remus was tempted to watch the frenzy, but just then, he heard a loud bang! of the front door opening and closing.

In the hallway, he encountered a stumbling, babbling Sirius Black. The man was obviously hammered: so much that he still clutched a bottle in his hand, though it was empty and broken, and his hands were slightly bloody. In alarm, Remus reached for the bottle and plucked it from Sirius' hands, tossing it into the rubbish bin before pulling him along to the bathroom and the first-aid kit.

"Sirius, what did you do?" Remus asked in disgust, smelling the pungent odor of alcohol even before the man opened his mouth.

"Found a pub... drank it." Sirius slurred, giggling to himself as Remus worked at cleaning his wounds on his hand and bandaging them. "You've nice hands."

The green-eyed boy tried hard to ignore the black-haired man, but Sirius was a chattery, flirtatious drunk. He sighed and cringed again at the sight of vomit on the white collar of the man's shirt. Going against every fiber of his being, Remus stepped forward and pulled at the shirt, lifting it gently over Sirius' head and finding himself face-to-face (technically chest), with the older man's tattoos.

"You like 'em, doncha?" Sirius asked, pointing at his chest. His finger hovered over what looked like a black ribbon. "This is for my brother, Regulus. Because we're close. Tight as a knot." His finger then moved to a pattern of dots and thin lines on his shoulder. "This is Sirius. No, wait, I'm Sirius. These are stars."

Sirius giggled and laughed, and all the while Remus pleaded that this alcohol-induced high would soon crash, and the black-haired man would fall asleep and neither of them would ever have to talk about it again. He pulled Sirius from the bathroom into his bedroom, stripping him of his tight black trousers and placing him under his duvet.

"Sirius-"

"Remusss, you said you wanted to know me. Listen." Sirius claimed, shushing Remus by placing a finger childishly over his lips. "I have tattoos for important things. My brother, and myself. And a paw print. I like dogs."

"Sirius, please. You need to go to bed. You're drunk." Remus pleaded, but the silver-eyed man just continued to smile and babble.

"My parents suck. Like yours, only mine wanted me to get out and go places. Anywhere to get away from them. They like Regulus better, but he likes me best. They kicked me out at eighteen for working at a gay bar."

Remus' eyes widened. "You're gay?"

"I like men, Remus." Sirius' face was entirely too serious, but then it returned to the giggly drunk. "All the flavors of man are my favorite. But I like you best."

Remus found himself blushing. Sirius liked him? Of course, he was drunk when confessing this, but weren't drunk words sober thoughts? And they'd only known each other three days. Certainly Sirius didn't really like him. That was absurd!

"I like making you mad, Remusss. You're cute and flustered. It's cute. You're cute..." Sirius drawled. Remus wanted to disappear. "I'm tired."

This sparked Remus back to life. With a thankful smile to whatever gods were looking over them from above, he tucked Sirius in real tight and then leaned to turn off the lamp. "Goodnight, Sirius."

He left the man's room and disappeared down the hallway, stopping just before his bedroom and sighing. He walked and grabbed the rubbish bin from the bathroom and brought it back to his roommate's bedroom, knocking twice before stepping inside. "Here's a pail, incase you get sick."

He left again in a rush. He made it back to his bedroom this time; he even made it behind his door and closed it tight, locking it incase Sirius was the wandering kind of drunk. Sirius. Sirius liked him. Him! He didn't understand it, not one bit. The black-haired man was so harsh towards him, and yet so kind during other times. He truly had to be bipolar or something...

Remus removed his swimming shorts, entirely uncaring of the fact he was going to sleep covered in sand and saltwater. He was liked, by a man, and that hadn't happened in a long time. Even though he couldn't be sure these feelings were actually for certain, the idea was refreshing.

"You've still got it, Remus," he smirked to himself confidently. "You've still got it."