Notes: This is for the charming Sylvia (glowing neon) for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza.

Sylvia: I haven't written Wolfstar in about... eight years? though I absolutely adore our favorite puppies. But then came this plot bunny and held me hostage and well, I hope you like this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

Thanks to ReillyJade for beta-reading this piece.

Maybe

In a sixteen-year-old bloke's mind, 'lucky' was the one who could claim having seen –or better yet, touched- a girl's breasts. In that sense, Sirius could've been considered a very lucky bloke, and much more than that.

It wasn't hard to determine why Sirius had become a case of hero-worship unlike anything Hogwarts had ever seen. He had every single attribute necessary to attain maximum levels of charisma, so it was unsurprising that he was a high-profile celebrity in his own microcosm. He was a king that ruled because no one could stop him – no one but Remus, that is.

But more on that later.

Naturally, he'd had enough sexcapades to satisfy even the most eager of lovers, and the bragging rights were both a blessing and a curse. He did brag to his three best friends, but the sweet lull of his post-lovemaking joy was embittered by the fact that neither James nor Remus quite cared to applaud him. Peter's unwavering fascination could only fulfil him for so long, James was all too fascinated by a particular girl to find promiscuity desirable, and Remus didn't seem fascinated by absolutely anything concerning nudity.

Maybe that sort of coldness was exactly what drew him to Remus in such a primal level.

But more on that later.

Even then, he was glad the path to beds that weren't his own was relatively clear for him. However, it baffled him that he'd seen so many naked bodies, or more specifically, that they were just so different from one another. Deep down, he believed there was something poetic about it. There wasn't a line or a curve that hadn't managed to turn him on or appear beautiful to his eyes. Every single body had struck him as new, exciting, and worth exploring. Of course, if he told that to his friends they'd say he'd gone insane, and maybe he actually had. Remus, particularly, would raise an eyebrow and ever-so-sarcastically remark that maybe he should start changing clothes in the lavatory instead.

More on that at this very moment: yes, Remus was practically getting naked in front of Sirius. And yes, this was a regular occurrence. More specifically, a once-in-a-month occurrence, just after Remus's painful transformation, which left him covered in a high number of cuts and bruises.

Remus maintained that he always asked Sirius to mend his post-transformation wounds because he was the most skilled spell-caster among his friends. But every time Remus awaited Sirius's examination with only his knickers showing any modesty, Sirius became more and more convinced that Remus knew exactly the effect he had on him.

Sirius certainly wanted to believe that, but maybe Remus didn't know. Maybe he genuinely thought Sirius was so used to the sight of bare skin that it was harmless to let him assess every inch of his skin to fix the damage. Then again, Remus should've known better than to expect him to not associate a naked body with sexual thoughts, no matter how wrong, inappropriate or out of place they were.

So maybe he did know.

Maybe he knew Sirius had memorized the exact way his shoulder blades popped out and the precise location of those two dimples on his lower back. Maybe he knew Sirius kept track of how visible his ribs were through his skin, secretly rejoicing whenever he appeared healthy. Maybe he knew Sirius loved that one scar covering a good part of his right shin, and always looked for an excuse to touch it.

Maybe he knew Sirius resisted the urge to kiss that scar, run his hands over that flat stomach and dispose of that lonesome, bothersome piece of cloth that still dared to cling to Remus's body.

Sirius huffed. This was the one body he knew by heart; this was the one body he'd seen over and over and over. There was nothing new about it, nothing to awaken that excitation and desire he'd felt so many times. Except that he did feel desire, his excitation was awakened, and he wanted to try so many new things, to-

"What's taking you so long, Padfoot?" Remus's voice startled him, which made him instinctively take a step back. He was grateful Remus wasn't looking at him because it gave him courage to be sincere.

"Moony, has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful?" The only reason he dared to voice his thoughts was that Remus wouldn't even take them seriously. They wouldn't be a threat to their friendship – but they wouldn't be rejection. And that was comfortable enough.

Sure enough, he heard his friend snort.

"Beautiful?" Remus turned around. Now Sirius had a clear view of his beaten-up chest. His hands were on his hips rather demandingly, and his expression changed ever-so-slightly when he raised an eyebrow. "I'm a man, Padfoot. Call me hot, call me strong, call me handsome – but beautiful?"

This wasn't the dismissal he was expecting, though it had Remus Lupin written all over it. It wasn't only because of the tone of his voice or the fearlessness of his body language. It wasn't the words. It wasn't the sentiment. It was the amused smirk, the twinkling eyes, and the knowledge that oh, yes, he knew exactly what he was doing.

And Sirius didn't. Maybe Remus was flirting. Maybe he was just being derisive. Either way, Sirius would never know, and that's what made their banter so enjoyable to him.

"You girls don't know how to take a compliment," he struck back with a grin of his own, avoiding looking at Remus in the eye. Instead, he focused on repairing his broken body. "Just smile and say thanks."

Sirius looked at Remus, whose eyes were fixed on the light his wand emitted as a particularly nasty wound closed.

"You're right," Remus said with a smile. "Thanks, mate."

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but the words became strangled before he could even think of them. A faint scarlet shade took power over his features.

Looking away, he realized that Remus could make him blush like that. He felt like one of those girls he'd touched, one of those girls whose breasts on his hands should've made him feel lucky, but strangely didn't. He felt vulnerable, small and humbled – and lucky, ironically enough. It was Remus and his beautiful wrecked body; it was his unwavering friendship and his vibrant soul that made Sirius feel lucky. Remus was the one man who could make a king feel like a peasant with a simple act of gratitude, as unexplainable as all things Remus were.

Maybe he was thanking Sirius for being a good friend, taking care of him every month. Maybe he was accepting his compliments instead of rejecting them, eager for more.

Maybe Sirius would never know – and maybe, just maybe, it was for the best.