Not My Type (слэш)

“Lay off it, Sirius,” Remus said, leaning back against the headboard. His legs were sprawled ahead of him as he sat on his four poster bed. A Transfiguration book lay open, ignored, on his lap. His tone would tell anyone that he was frustrated, but an amused smile spread across his lips. “What does it matter to you if I’m seeing anyone, anyways?”
Sirius’ lower lip morphed into a pout. “Oh, come on, Moony! You haven’t seen anyone since that one Hufflepuff girl in fourth year. And even then, the two of you hardly held hands, much less…”
Or:
Sirius tries to find out which girls are Remus’ type.
Or:
Closeted Remus Lupin doesn’t want Sirius Black to find out that his type is Sirius.