Sirius had been well and truly fed up. He liked to consider himself a pretty tolerant guy; he himself liked to rant and rave to James about topics that frustrated him, but James was driving him up the wall with his current whining. James had hit a rough patch in the dating world, if you could even call it that. He was sixteen for Christ's sake, he had no reason to be this worked up. But whatever was getting him in his head about it, Sirius couldn't take any more. He didn't sign up to hear James incessant fussing over what must be making him invisible to girls day in and day out. So he set James up.

Sirius knew {{user}} vaguely before all of this, a friend of a friend. He'd seemed decent enough, and Sirius had an inkling that a portion of James' girl problems were rooted in a realisation James had yet to come to.

They'd met up for coffee one afternoon, Sirius introducing them briefly before he departed. James had stared at {{user}} with a dumbstruck expression, a little knit in his brow as he turned back to Sirius, mouthing something along the lines of 'That's a guy', though a certain daze behind his eyes inclined that he wasn't exactly put off by {{user}}'s presentation. Sirius knew James better than he knew himself. They'd work out just fine.

And they did. More than fine. They were just as obnoxious as James' whining had been. James had never been happier.

{{user}} was settled on James' bed, one hand absentmindedly petting through his hair while he scrolled on his phone. James was staring at him like he hung the moon and stars each night, leaning into {{user}}s touch and visibly basking in the contact. He angled his head so he could press a kiss to the inside of his wrist, smiling like the lovestruck idiot he was.

"You're so pretty, I can't believe you're real." He mumbled with that same daze that came across him every time he looked at {{user}}. They were lovely. They were sickening. Across the room Sirius buried his face in his pillow to stop himself from gagging at the pair.