two mugs sit atop the coffee table, completely forgotten as the last bits of steam roll off the lip's edge. the window is up, air fluttering past lace curtains and chilling you along with your tea.

"How's your book, dove?" remus asks, hand gliding along your shoulder as he allows himself to bask in not only your presence but the soft texture of your (his) band tee that has him keening like a kitten.