Sirius always worries when Remus gets like this, slovenly and sleeping in and entirely un-rousable in spite of how many times Sirius has dropped a book on the floor. (Because really, Remus gets absolutely barking mad when Sirius just dog-ears a page. He froths at the mouth and screams about bookmarks and caresses the bloody things as if more important than anything. Sirius often thinks its a very good thing Remus is never going to have children because they would all surely starve from neglect.)
Sirius hates that he worries. He hates it enough to kick things and frown in a way that is sure to give him wrinkles later in life. Sirius Black does not like worrying. It makes him feel entirely too female or entirely too much like Remus, and he prefers that there always be a distinction between the two. He has corrupted Remus sufficiently and feels that there is no need for him to be more moral or have better hygiene just because he is having sex with an anal retentive werewolf.
He reaches over and shakes Remus's shoulders, trying to be gentle but failing the moment his hair falls in his eyes. It wants cutting, but he won't do it because it makes his mother turn colors and he loves to be contrary no matter how much of an inconvenience it is to him. So, he squeezes accidentally, nearly cutting his palms on too sharp collar bones.
Remus moans in discomfort and bats him away, hitting Sirius on his thigh.
"Moony..." Sirius calls like his annoying governess used to do and he nearly hits himself. "You need to get up now."
Remus says a lot of things, not many of them making sense. Something about chocolate and bunny rabbits and more chocolate, but Sirius can't make it out. It does sound something like a refusal.
"You should really get up you know," Sirius repeats, deciding to appeal to Remus's studying habits. "What if you miss something terribly interesting in History of Magic? Though I realize it hasn't happened before, today could be the day! Just think of how you'll never know how the Goblins ended their 34,689th war. You will weep, my dear Moony. Weep and weep and get your books all wet and then you'll hate yourself and throw yourself out of the tower and I will be left loverless and restless and wanking off in public all the time, and then what would this world come to?"
Remus mumbles something again. This time, it makes a bit more sense. It has something to do with the fact that he hasn't quite recovered from the last full moon on Friday and that he would rather swallow a dozen knives without benefit of training and a dead gag reflex than get out of bed. Then he lifts up the covers.
Sirius considers, shrugs, kicks off his shoes, and climbs in.
"You've really gotten entirely too good at this sleeping in business," Sirius informs him.
Remus then wallops him with his pillow, and settles back in for a very long nap.