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“Remus, where the bloody hell are you taking me?”
For someone being taken, Sirius is doing an awfully good job at walking on his own two feet. His fingers are linked with Remus’ and despite his grouchy tone, there is a smile curling his lips. The sun is shining brightly, unusual for London, and Remus has just dragged Sirius out of the office “for a late, long lunch, come along now,” and Sirius let himself be dragged.
“Hush, love. You’ll see,” Remus smirks at him and pulls Sirius a little closer. “We’re almost there…”
Sirius glances around. They’d exited the Underground at London Bridge, and while they’d been here before to see one show or another, Sirius can tell that theatre is not the purpose of their visit today. For one, Remus is meticulous about dressing nicely for the theatre, and secondly there are no shows that start at 1:30 on a Thursday.
It’s Southend, though, so the streets are busy like normal. Sirius catches a glimpse of Shad Indian Restaurant, one of his and Remus’ favorite spots, and his mouth waters just a bit.
“Remus, are you going to starve me during this abduction?” He knows he’s whining, just a bit, but breakfast was a long while ago, and he and Remus had been quite...active afterwards, and now his stomach is growling, and it’s really Remus’ fault anyway, because he was the one standing there doing dishes in an apron and boxers, and honestly, Sirius could not be expected to resist.
Remus laughs softly and lets go of Sirius’ hand to slide it around his waist. “Feeling hungry?” he asks in a low voice, right next to Sirius’ ear, and Sirius swallows hard. Remus smiles a slow, lazy smile, and he speeds up, dragging Sirius along with him. “We’re almost there, and I promise there will be something to eat.”
The streets are less crowded now, maybe because the lunchtime rush is officially over, or maybe because they’re off the main road now. They turn onto what looks like an alley, and Sirius frowns. Remus, however, squeezes his hip and keeps walking confidently. Remus turns them onto Magdalen Street, and a block later, they are standing in front of a tall white building with the words “Ready to Escape?” written in big red letters.
Sirius gapes.
Remus grins at him. “Remember when you said,” he whispers softly, still smiling, “that you wanted to escape?”
Sirius cannot prevent his eyes from rolling dramatically. “I was talking about that annoying bloke at the office, you twat.”
Remus’ smile widens. “I know, but I thought it would be fun if I took you literally. Come on, don’t you want to see what’s inside? I booked the room with Pharaoh Khurfu and the Cursed Tomb, and-”
Still talking, he starts to walk towards the door, but Sirius grabs his hand, pulls him back, and kisses him soundly on the mouth.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, “for listening. And for being the biggest, fittest nerd in the history of history nerds.”
Remus smirks. “I know you can’t resist me when I start talking about history. Now come on, we have a reservation.”
“Yes, Professor,” and Sirius receives a smack on the arse for his cheek.
Remus had not lied: there is a table loaded with several food options in a private part of the lobby, and Sirius immediately grabs a plate. Remus chuckles from behind him, and Sirius throws him a look.
“You’re the one who took me on a long journey from Leadenhall to the bloody London Bridge,” he grumbles, and Remus laughs and pats his shoulder.
“Just get your lunch and then be quiet. We’re going to listen to directions while we eat so that we can start as soon as possible,” Remus instructs as he helps himself to rice and chicken marsala.
Sirius flips him the bird but does as he’s told, and Remus sits beside him on the leather couch. Almost as soon as they’re seated, a girl wearing a red and black polo shirt comes to stand in front of them. She starts talking, and while Remus pays her rapt attention, Sirius mostly ignores her, choosing to focus instead on his fish and chips, and on Remus’ thigh resting against his own. It’s a comfort, a reassurance, and after the hellish month or so Sirius has had at the office, he is grateful for Remus’ calming presence.
Suddenly Remus’ touch is gone, and Sirius looks up from his plate to see Remus standing next to him, reaching down for him, and Sirius realizes that he has not heard a single word of directions. He sets his plate down, takes Remus’ outstretched hand, and pulls himself to stand.
“So what happens now?” He tries to ask quietly, to not let the girl know he was ignoring her, but she is watching him suspiciously. Remus does him no favors; he shuts his eyes and places a hand on his forehead.
“Weren’t you listening at all?” He sounds half exasperated, half amused, and Sirius decides that he can flirt his way out of trouble.
“Nope. I was too distracted by your legs,” Sirius whispers, and Remus rolls his eyes and smiles.
“Alright, you big flirt, come off it. We’re going to be locked in this tomb for an hour, and we have to find the treasure before our souls are sucked out to serve Pharaoh Khurfu.” Remus smirks. “Does this sound familiar in any way, dearest?”
Sirius snaps his gaze to Remus, who is smiling with his mouth but there is something intense about his eyes. Before Sirius can respond, however, the girl begins directing them into the tomb. With a heavy thud, the door shuts behind them. Their hour has begun.
Fifteen minutes later, Sirius is enjoying himself. He is not bothered by the small space, and the first puzzle they work on seems straightforward. He glances at Remus, who is working diligently at the table. Remus’ brow is furrowed in concentration as he looks at the jumble of letters and attempts to decipher a clue. Sirius smiles to himself; Remus’ “working face” is rather adorable.
As if he can sense Sirius’ gaze, Remus looks up at him and smiles one of his soft smiles.
“Having fun, love?” he asks, and Sirius’ grin widens.
“Yes, actually,” he answers, reaching out to sink his fingers into Remus’ hair.
Remus tilts his head so Sirius can reach him more easily. “You like puzzles, don’t you?” he asks as Sirius plays with his hair. He has a good idea of how Sirius will answer; they’ve been dating for over a year, have known each other since they were 15, and Remus pays attention. Sirius has this look he gets when he’s working to solve a problem, and that look transforms into a smirk of satisfaction and...something deeper whenever he finally solves it.
“I do, don’t I,” Sirius muses, enjoying the feeling of Remus’ curls against his fingers. It’s true, he does enjoy puzzles, but mostly he likes the challenge of a problem that needs solving; mainly he likes the rush of adrenaline he gets when he finally solves whatever riddle is in front of him, be that the weird noise his bike is making or the Sudoku game in the Times. Or the jumble of hieroglyphics on Pharaoh Khurfu’s tomb, since this is why he’s here.
Halfway through their adventure, Sirius lets out a noise of frustration. “Why don’t these pieces fit?” he exclaims, throwing down bits of ancient tablet and flinging his hands into his hair. “You’re supposed to fit. We can’t move on until you fit, you little bast-”
“Sirius,” Remus interrupts him, placing a hand on Sirius’ shoulder, but Sirius shrugs him off impatiently and begins pacing in the small room.
“I did what I was supposed to do, but the bloody things don’t fit. I read the clues, I solved the first puzzle, but it’s not working!” He stops abruptly and slams a palm onto the table, hard, and Remus jumps. “Sorry,” Sirius mutters, reaching for Remus.
Remus lets himself be reached, linking his fingers with Sirius’, and he takes a breath. “Sirius,” he says again, quietly, “May I make a suggestion?” When Sirius nods, Remus continues.
“I suggest two things,” he says simply. “First suggestion: we need to solve one of the puzzles from over there-” he points with a long finger “-before those pieces will fit. Second suggestion,” and he grips Sirius’ hand as Sirius makes a movement towards the puzzle indicated; at Remus’ squeeze, Sirius stills.
“Second suggestion,” Remus repeats, “is that perhaps you are a bit frustrated with the pieces and more frustrated with what they represent.”
Sirius freezes a moment, one hand in Remus’, one hand on his own forehead. “What do you mean?” he asks slowly, not looking at Remus.
“I mean,” says Remus, just as slowly and looking directly at Sirius, “that maybe you feel like your whole life, you did what you were supposed to do and you studied what you felt you were supposed to study at uni, and then you got the job in the field that you felt you had to, and now maybe, I think just maybe, you are frustrated that you’re not satisfied with your career like you think you should be.”
Sirius is breathing heavily, not quite gasping, by the time Remus finishes, and he is still not making eye contact. Remus squeezes his hand gently. “Did I overstep?” he asks gently, and finally Sirius looks at him.
“No, of course not, I-” Sirius takes another breath, slower this time, and moves his hand from his forehead to his hair. “You’re right,” he says finally, eyes staring intently at Remus. “You’re bloody right. I… I’ve been trying to articulate my thoughts like that for months now, and you just put it so perfectly. You’re right. My god, I hate my job. I hate it.”
Without breaking eye contact, Remus steps closer to Sirius and takes his other hand. Sirius clings to him like he is lost at sea and Remus is the life raft. “What do I do, Remus?” Sirius whispers, “what do I bloody do?”
Remus grips Sirius’ hands tightly. “You give two weeks’ notice at the firm and you find a job that you don’t hate,” he says simply, and Sirius lets out a sharp laugh.
“And what job could I get that I don’t hate?” Sirius says it like a challenge, not a question, but Remus is ready.
“A mechanic.”
For the second time today, Sirius gapes. “What?”
Remus is nonplussed. “A mechanic,” he repeats. “You know, a wonderful person who fixes cars and motorbikes?” He releases one of Sirius’ hands and ruffles Sirius’ hair. Sirius just blinks at him, and Remus chuckles.
“I’ve stunned you speechless, have I? Not the first time today, either,” he smirks, and Sirius finally reacts and uses his freed hand to grab Remus’ hip.
“Hopefully won’t be the last time either,” Sirius returns in a low voice, and as Remus laughs, Sirius grows more solemn. “Really, though? You think I could leave the firm and…” his voice falters a bit, and Remus hears the hope in the pause.
“Yes,” he replies firmly, before Sirius can finish. “Yes, I absolutely know you can leave the firm and find work as a brilliant mechanic. You keep your old beast-”
“Classic!”
“-running, so of course you can find a job. Maybe take a course or something, get certified, and then off you go.” Remus slides his hand down from Sirius’ hair to his cheek, and Sirius turns his head to kiss Remus’ palm.
“Well, Professor, I think you’re right, as usual.” Sirius plays with the bottom of Remus’ sweater, trailing his fingers under the hem. “But now we have another problem.”
“What’s that, Mr. Black?” Remus slips his hand down Sirius’ neck and fiddles with his tie.
Sirius clears his throat. “We have twelve minutes to solve these last two puzzles before our souls are enslaved by Pharaoh Kurfu.”
With one minute to spare, Remus and Sirius make their escape from the pharaoh’s tomb. Remus smiles at the attendant as she gives them their reward - a chocolate coin - and he takes Sirius’ hand as they head out onto Magdalen Street. The two walk in silence for a bit, Remus appreciating how spacious it is outside.
“Well, what do you think of my abduction skills?” Remus looks at Sirius as they walk towards the London Bridge station. Sirius takes a moment before answering, looks left before heading across Bermondsey Street.
“Did you plan all of this in order to have that conversation about my job?” Sirius is frowning slightly, but Remus recognizes it for a thinking frown and doesn’t hesitate.
“Yes, and if this didn’t work, I was going to fake an illness next week so you would stay home and take care of me.”
Sirius laughs his sharp laugh. “How long have you been planning this abduction then?”
Remus flushes. “Well, I’d been trying to think of something that would be somewhat fun and slightly distracting, and when you mentioned escaping your colleague the other day, it was sort of a brain wave.” He laughs too. “I mean, I looked this place up and when I saw the pharaoh room, I thought it fit so perfectly.”
He turns to Sirius who is watching him intently. “Sirius, you know your job is killing you, right? Your soul is getting crushed, enslaved like the poor archaeologists who went before us into the tomb. Do you see that?”
Sirius stops walking and looks at Remus, who also stops, and then past him, across the street at the Pret A Manger. A woman is sitting on the patio smoking a cigarette and talking loudly on her mobile. Sirius can just barely catch her words, something about a file that needs to be sent to Marcus, and Sirius yanks his attention back to Remus, who is watching him with a concerned look on his face.
“I see it, Remus,” says Sirius hoarsely. “I saw it, a year or so ago, but I didn’t know what to do. And you saw it, and you arranged this for me, and you-” Sirius takes a gasping breath “-you saw me, you see me, and that just means so, so much to me,” and he wipes at his eyes.
Remus moves in close and grasps Sirius’ chin. “Hey,” he murmurs, “hey, I do see you, and I like what I see. You’re brilliant, and brave, and fit as all get out-” Sirius rolls his eyes and Remus taps his chin “-and I adore you, Sirius Black. So don’t let your soul get crushed, alright?”
“Alright,” Sirius manages before bringing Remus’ fingers to his lips. “And I loved your abduction, by the way, even if you let me escape.”