Remus sleepily stumbled past Sirius and into the bathroom. It was most likely late afternoon, Remus decided, as Sirius was already awake and dressed. He could feel the soreness in his muscles, the deep ache in his bones, and the sting of fresh cuts being reopened as he walked - the aftermath of a full moon.

He fumbled clumsily for the toothpaste, the lull of sleep not having worn off yet. Upon seeing that the toothpaste had been left uncapped and the opening was now covered by a mint crust, Remus scowled.

“Sirius. What do you call this?”

“What?” Sirius called from the living room.

“The toothpaste,” Remus huffed, overworked.

“What about it?”

“You left it uncapped and now it’s bloody disgusting!” Remus spat as he grudgingly cleaned the toothpaste cap with a sheet of toilet paper, mumbling to himself about responsibility and common sense.

“I can see it now,” Sirius mused sarcastically, “This will be our downfall - we’ll need to go to relationship therapy and everything! All because of a teeny, tiny toothpaste cap.” He put his arms around Remus’ waist and kissed him briefly, grinning. “God forbid.”