blood in the house, blood in the street

It's a strange day, Sirius thinks. Though far from his first Christmas spent with James, it's his first here in this city and his first with Kieren. He'd invited both to his flat for the holiday where he'd managed to Muggle his way through some semblance of a Christmas turkey and pudding and side dishes. He's still getting used to his new wand is the thing, Kell's blood lending a certain amount of volatility that he hadn't quite expected.

He'll get there, he knows. But it's better to work out the kinks later than risk ruining an entire Christmas meal. And it's not as though James has been any help without his wand. It's almost funny, he thinks, how useless they are without their magic. Lily would likely be delighted. And Remus, too.

But, if nothing else, he knows Kieren is more impressed that he left magic out of it entirely despite the headaches it may have afforded Sirius.

There are a good number of gifts sitting wrapped below the tree though Sirius, at least, is a bit more interested in polishing off the bottle of Muggle whiskey. It's impossible to fully ignore the utter lack of Lily and Harry and Remus, and Sirius knows Kieren is missing his own family desperately in this moment, but he thinks if only they drink a bit more, it'll be easier to not dwell. That's often his favoured way of coping, after all.

He's sat back in the sofa now, resting close to Kieren, forcing himself to not act any differently in James's presence though it's turning out to not be an easy thing at all.

"Shall we play a card game?" he suggests after knocking back another sip of whiskey and sitting up a bit straighter. "That's a delightfully Muggle thing to do, isn't it? Is there a special Christmas one?" he asks, looking to Kieren now for input.

In all honesty, Sirius can't remember a time he's been so nervous.

Perhaps the day of Harry's birth when he'd spent the entirety of Lily's labour wandering about the garden trying to expel restless energy. He likely hadn't been any more nervous than James that day, but at least James had something to do, something to focus on. Sirius only had his own mind to get lost in, a dangerous thing given its propensity for dramatics.

He finds today, this evening, doesn't feel much better.

Sirius checks the noodles once again, though they've been ready for minutes now and are only warming under the lid. The sauce is nearly done as well, but Sirius stirs it for at least the hundredth time as he quells the impulse to pour himself a fresh glass of wine. He's already operating on one as it is, likely not a great idea to be too sloshed by the time Harry arrives.

And that should be any minute really.

Sirius's fingers twitch at his sides and he glances over when he hears Kieren enter the kitchen. "Should I have gotten one of those cheesecake things, do you think?" he asks, forcing himself to remove his hand from the wooden spoon. "I've three pints of ice cream in the freezer, but what if he's not in the mood for ice cream. What if he'd rather have a cake?"

None of this is really about the food, Sirius knows. But it's much easier to focus on that, then the real reason Harry's joining them for dinner tonight.

Sirius had never once in his life considered the notion of celebrating American's Independence Day. He hadn't even been certain what such a celebration would entail until he'd been at the festivities.

Hot dogs, apparently. It involves a lot of hot dogs.

And fireworks, he'd found, as the sun set and the sky turned black.

The mood of the party had shifted at that point as well, going from the rather wholesome, carefree atmosphere similar to the carnival of only weeks ago into something... well, a bit more sinister. Somewhere in the fray, Sirius had lost track of Kieren, had found himself swept into a mess of rather boisterous and clearly very drunk Americans plying him with cup after cup of alcohol all whilst cheerfully calling him all manner of derogatory British things.

Sirius hadn't minded. The drinks were free.

It's late now, however, and Sirius is very drunk and, he realizes, has not a clue where Kieren's run off to.

He blinks down at his phone for a moment, frowning at the tiny buttons swimming across the screen before tapping out what he can only hope is a legible message.

The reply he receives moments later is rather short. Curt.

Sirius hiccups, brow furrowed.

He's too drunk to attempt apparating so instead he walks. By the time he's stood just outside Kieren's door, he's nearly sober. He lifts a hand, knocking quietly as he leans forward to rest his forehead to the wood.

"Kieren. Kiiiiieren. Kieren, it's late, babe. Open up?"

Leaning gingerly against Kieren's door frame, Sirius pulls in a breath. There doesn't appear to be a single inch of his body that isn't in pain though at least it's not so bad as to have kept him from making his way to Kieren's flat. Perhaps he should learn how to use that mobile contraption Harry had shown him weeks ago after all.

Though, if Sirius is honest, he'd much rather see Kieren at the moment if only to prove he truly hadn't forgotten. Even if he's given up on the decorations he'd bought and never made it to buying the cake.

He rings the bell carefully, wincing as even so little a movement sends a lance of pain up his arm. He's fairly sure he's broken his clavicle and, come tomorrow, he'll stop by Ron's shop and gather supplies to make himself a potion. He'll be right as rain in no time.

After he's done a bit of groveling, that is.

Nerves are not a thing Sirius tends to ever admit he has. In his younger years, this had been due to pure cockiness, but once the war was fully in swing, it came about out of pure necessity.

Honestly, it's ridiculous to be nervous about a date. He never has been as far as he can remember, though his experience which such things is admittedly limited. His "dating" back at Hogwarts generally amounted to choosing one from about a dozen girls to hang off his arm as he stepped into the ball before quickly abandoning them in favor of concocting and enacting various schemes to make James fall face over tit in front of Lily.

And sometimes it meant pretending, but those were much less fun than the balls.

This, however, is a real date at, presumably, a real coffee shop. Sirius is hoping they also serve tea, but will Kieren simply sit with an empty cup?

The shop itself isn't too hard to spot and Sirius is oddly glad to find it largely empty when he steps inside. Kieren is at a table near the back, slumped forward in his rather oversized sweater and jacket, as Sirius is quickly coming to learn is customary. Sirius himself is wearing jeans and a sweater he'd stolen from Harry's closet simply because he liked the look of the fabric. (He has yet to speak a word of this date to Harry so it had been a rather devious theft and he's still not entirely sure how he'll return the garment undetected.)

"Not too awfully late, am I?" he asks, sliding into the seat opposite Kieren, grinning through the flutter in his belly as he rests his elbows on the table.