Remus was armed with a smile of his own upon seeing that. It was an extremely rare thing to see, in fact he could only really remember it happening a couple other times—including the time just a week ago when called out on his antics. When Remus himself was in quite the emotional tizzy, too much of one to really appreciate the rarity of the moment. Now was quite a different matter, however, and he drank it in to let it settle and burn into a proper memory. One for the record books. A kiss making Sirius Black blush? Hm. It was filed away for future usage as well, sealed with another kiss before he was bed led about again.
"Oh you're bad, Sirius," he teased in a fond tone, "but not like that. I'm still thanking you though." Because it was above and beyond expectations, it was kind. And for all that Remus knew he had good friends, kind friends, people who cared about him, and yet moments like these still surprised him. His horrid perception of self always managed to influence how he felt others saw him, even to this day. Perhaps it was something he'd never shake, though he felt he needed to step up his game in changing it. So that moments like these weren't so out of the blue—it wasn't fair to his friends. Especially not to Sirius.
The meal was excellent. The moment was excellent. And yes, the wine was untouched. The instant Sirius commented on it, Remus was tempted to snap back with something akin to 'well, you obviously have no idea how low my tolerance is', because even he didn't know! That was how little time he'd spent drinking in his life. He'd had a taste of firewhiskey once, hated it, and never went back. That was the extent of his drinking career. But instead and before he could say anything, the other man ducked to bring up a present and Remus opted to simply try sipping his wine and… all right. Fine. It tasted good. Fine.
As Sirius complained about the difficulty level in picking out a gift, Remus simply shot him a dry, amused look. Oh how horrid! Picking a gift because everything was available! That didn't matter half as much as what was chosen and why, and the instant he opened the gift and saw what it was, that sentiment showed on his expression. That look of amusement and faux-sympathy washed off his face entirely, replaced by one of nostalgia and contentment.
"Oh Sirius," he began, looking the book over and tracing his fingers over the cover and spine. "My mother used to read these stories to me all the time as a child." Before being bitten, before manifesting magic, these old faerie tales were what got him into stories and reading to begin with. The moment he'd been bitten though, his mother stopped reading them to him, worried that tales where the Big Bad Wolf chasing Little Red Riding Hood might trouble him even more than he already was. Then before they all knew it, he was showing signs of magic and his whole life became very much like a faerie tale. Especially the original Grimm stories.
Smiling as he looked up, Remus added, "It's like The Tales of Beedle the Bard for muggles. There's some wonderful ones and I haven't read any in ages. Thank you." Flipping through the pages, he found his old favourite and grinned at the sight of it. "This one's a mouthful: The Story of the Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was. I'll have to read that to you sometime." Eyes returning to Sirius, he held up the glass of wine and said, "You'd probably need a few of these to bear it though. Poor thing."