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He couldn’t tell what was first, if the feeling of the quilt over him or the sound of breathing next to him, but he was awake. He could go back to sleep, though, he was still in that kind of fog you have before really waking up, and the house was silent, no fires to turn off.
He focused on his own breathing, deep and slow, and let the dreams come to him again, but just when he was entering the unconscious state again, his ears caught a sound. He started to stir, still with his eyes closed, and an arm tightened its hold on his waist. He smiled.
But the sound reached his brain again, and he brought one of his hands to his face to rub his eyes so the light wouldn’t bother him too much when he opened them.
The next thirty seconds went like this: He yawned, blinked a couple of times, saw that it was nine in the morning—it could be worse—and he sat up just in time for the door of their room to open and show a mop of brown curls and big caramel eyes.
Sirius smiled at his daughter and patted the free space on the mattress. Less than a blink later, she was there, curling at his side.
“Papa’s sleeping?” she whispered, looking at the other man who was still under the covers, his face pressed to the pillow.
Before Sirius could answer, a voice came muffled by the fabric of the linen.
“No…”
As if she were waiting for a signal, the little girl jumped from the arms of Sirius to Remus’s back, making him groan; he tried to conceal a laugh while seeing his husband turn in bed, so he was on his back. He blinked a couple of times, but it wasn’t until Sirius reached to wipe the sleep from his eyes, earning a few groans courtesy of Remus, that he managed to actually open his eyes.
“What are we doing today?” Eira asked, with her head on Remus’s shoulder but looking at Sirius.
He stretched out his arm to reposition a lock of her hair, thinking how lucky they were to have that beautiful princess in their lives. He looked out of the window, seeing the clouds starting to fill the sky. Then he looked towards his child again.
“What do you want, sweetheart?”
She didn’t need to think the answer.
“Zoo.”
“We can’t go every weekend, love,” Remus said, caressing his daughter’s back.
“And it’s going to rain today, I fear,” Sirius completed.
Eira pouted, but after two years of her trying to manipulate her parents—it had all started when she was three, too smart for her own good, she had noticed how Sirius always gave up when Remus pouted and she started to mimic it, and ¡plaf! both of them were screwed—the gesture had reduced its effectiveness.
Now, Sirius just shrugged and got out of bed, putting his flippers on and reaching for his gown.
“Papa, say something.”
But what Remus did was shake his head and grab Eira’s waist to hug her and leave raspberried in her tummy, making her laugh. Their daughter’s laugh was one of Sirius’s favourite things in the world, so he stood there, just looking at the two loves of his life with his arms crossed.
“Daddy!” Eira exclaimed. “Help me!”
“Sorry girl,” he said, “but… we can cook a large tray of cookies for the teatime”. He made the conscious effort to lengthen the a of ‘large’.
Both Eira and Remus lifted their heads at the same time and Sirius had to contain a chuckle. He had two sugar monsters in his house.
“I was talking about stopping Papa. But I like the cookies’ idea.”
“I like it too.”
He rolled his eyes internally and fondly, then pointed to the door.
“Go and change your clothes, that pyjama is new and a good scullion always ends up covered in food.”
The girl jumped from the bed, ignoring the “We don’t run when we are upstairs” from Remus and went straight to her room. Remus sighed and turned around again, his head flat on the pillow, but he kept one eye open to look at Sirius.
“It’s going to be chocolate cookies, right?”
This time he did chuckle and approached his husband, sitting on the bed and tangling his fingers in his hair, caressing his scalp.
“Of course, darling. I would like to see another day of sun.”
“Don’t be dumb.”
Sirius lowered his hand and started massaging his husband’s shoulders before leaning in and kissing his nape.
“Come on, she’s going to get back asking for her breakfast in like… ten seconds, max.”
“Lie on me,” was Remus's only answer.
Counting on Eira being trained to pick up what she took out, but that they had not managed to stop her from taking out absolutely all the clothes to choose from, Sirius shifted so that he was resting on top of Remus from head to toe. He hugged him by the waist, making him lift his hips for a second, and buried his face on his shoulder, breathing in and smiling when the mix of sweetness and skin reached his nostrils.
After a couple of minutes, Remus murmured something along the lines of “She’s coming”, just when Sirius started hearing the footsteps, so he climbed off the other body, who groaned at the loss.
“Come on, you can’t miss me crashing your bones like that.”
“Bet on it,” he replied just as Eira entered the bedroom again, now dressed in what was once a white t-shirt but was now full of paint stains and her favourite sweatpants.
“Are you still in bed? Come on! It’s breakfast time!”
“Lead the way, captain.”
But before he could leave the room following his daughter, Remus crawled to the edge of the bed to grab his wrist.
“Not even a morning kiss? That’s not very husbandly of you.”
“You just made up that word.”
“I didn’t. And even if I did, I’m linguistic. I can say whatever I want. Now kiss me.”
“You’re clingy today, aren’t you?”
Remus just shrugged, so Sirius kneeled to be at the same height level and cupped his face in his hands, leaving a series of kisses on his lips. It was a strange kind of magic that his body and mind did every time he kissed Remus; he couldn’t even describe it. But maybe that was exactly what love was.
“Daddy! Papa!”
Oh, and stopping kissing him because they had a five-year-old monster queen that called for them from the kitchen—and that would make a mess if they didn’t get there soon—was another kind of love, of course.