can't stand what you do (in love with your eyes) (слэш)

Now is the point when Remus is not alone. He started alone. He started sitting on the hills out past Greenhouse Six, the dew-damp hills with all the half-crushed and deeply sodden dandelions, just him and a spliff and the layer of low-hanging, early morning fog turning the sun into an apricot (all fuzz), and now he is not alone because Sirius is standing before him, short and lithe and incandescent, jaw clenched, an earring in the shape of a dagger cutting through the soft meat of his lobe.
“Here,” he says. He is thrusting a bottle of muggle coke at Remus: red label, brown fizz sloshing against the curves.
“This moment is fake,” Remus says.
“Shove over, Descartes,” Sirius says.
 
or, the aftermath of armageddon