Work Text:
Dear Sirius,
I want to tell you a story. Not a war story. There are too many of those. I want to tell you a love story, because there are never enough of those. And despite everything, it is the best story I've got. You have always been my best story.
First part: preamble
I have never been the most eloquent out of the two of us. I pull off academic speak well enough, but you are the one raised with the vocabulary of royalty. But alas, you will have to make do with my lowly working class phrasing.
You are so beautiful. I am shallow enough to notice that, you know. The graceful way you move. How you've tried to stomp more when you walk to hide how much of a ballerina you are. I don't think I've ever told you I love it when you dance.
Sirius tried to make as little sound as possible when he sneaked back into the flat. Although he was usually very good at being quiet when he wanted to be, true to his nickname. This flat, however, had creaky floorboards and all sorts of noises to do with cheapness, and they hadn't been living there long enough for Sirius to know all of the places he needed to avoid. Not that it would be a disaster if he did make a noise. The worst it would do was wake up the others. But Remus had been cranky lately, it was well after midnight, and Sirius was trying to be considerate. This was a new impulse of his. One that turned out unnecessary, because Remus was sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of tea, very much awake.
"Nice night?"
Sirius shrugged. "Yeah, it was fun. Yours?"
Remus shrugged, too, with only one shoulder. "Sure, I guess."
Sirius walked to the kettle to pour himself a cup as well. There was barely enough left for three sips. Remus must have been sitting there a while, brooding, while working through several cups of tea. Sirius didn't know whether it was due to the late hour or the cold kitchen light, but the mood felt strange, unreal. Sirius splashed more milk into his tea than usual to at least have the look of a full cup, and sat down across from Remus. The strange atmosphere was getting to him, and he was feeling uncomfortable, something that hadn't happened with Remus in a very, very long time. When you spend nearly every waking (and sleeping) hour together for eight years, you get comfortable with each other. That was just how it worked. Even the slow realization that his feelings for Remus had a not-so- platonic edge to them had never made him truly tense in Remus's presence: they simply knew each other too well. Still not talking, Sirius took a sip of this tea, and grimaced. Lukewarm milk, basically. Ugh.
"So, what does it look like from the other side?"
Sirius frowned in confusion. "What?"
Remus gesticulated vaguely. "Coming home to barely dressed roommates."
Sirius laughed. It was true, Remus was usually the one who went out and found Sirius, ever the insomniac, in the kitchen or on the couch. Sirius didn't go out that much. Tonight, he'd stayed after Auror training to drink a couple of beers with his classmates, and although it had been ok, fun even, he didn't know why people thought he needed other friends than the three he had. Nobody could make him feel as excited as James could, could make him laugh until his sides hurt like Peter, or make him as happy as Remus could make him feel when he sat beside him at the pub and whisper sarcastic commentary in his ear.
"It is a nice view, I can see why you do it so much," Sirius told him, and then added, with a pointed look in the direction of Remus's crotch, which was hidden by the table, "Although you are a lot less dressed than me, usually."
Remus cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sorry, so it wasn't you who I found stark naked on the couch with his arse in the air like-"
"That was one time!"
"One time to never live down, Pads. Who falls asleep naked in a shared space, in the middle of the day, not even drunk or anything, all spread-eagled and with his bits out on the couch we all have to sit on?"
Sirius tried to stomp down the faint blush he knew was showing. "I told you! I had a shower, all the towels were dirty, so I wanted to air dry!"
Remus only snickered in response. Whatever had been bothering him wasn't anymore, at least not visibly. Maybe it had been nothing. Remus just had his moods sometimes, as did Sirius. Sadly, you don't need a reason to feel sad. That just happened sometimes. Remus picked up his mug and downed his now-cold tea in one go. It looked like he was going to get up and put it in the sink, but instead he leaned forward over the table and tapped Sirius's hand to get his attention, even though he already had it.
"You think you're going to be able to sleep tonight?"
Sirius smiled, not as half-hearted as he would have if anyone else had asked. He wasn't going to sleep for hours at least and he knew it, but it was a nice gesture.
"Sure. At some point."
Remus smiled ruefully at him, giving his hand a final squeeze and got up to put their mugs in the sink. His boxers, the only thing he was wearing, were rumpled and red, and a lion was proudly displayed on the backside.
"That is my favorite pair," Sirius said.
"What? Oh!" Remus looked down. "Yeah, mine too. If the lion gets too excited, he roars. Never bring a Muggle home while wearing it. It gets very, very awkward."
The familiar pang at Remus's casual mention of a bed partner weighed down Sirius's laughter at the joke a bit, but then, as he was already half out the door, Remus said softly: "You're always welcome to sleep in my bed, if you want," and Sirius felt so much affection for him he thought he'd burst. They had slept in each other's beds all the time at Hogwarts; all of the Marauders did. Sirius missed it sometimes, but they hadn't done so since moving into the flat, like a strange new rule saying they were adults now and too grown-up for silly things like falling asleep next to one's best mates. Then Remus was gone, and though he wanted nothing more than to go one room over and lie down next to him, Sirius went to his own room for another lonely, sleepless night.
So much had changed since graduation. They were still the Marauders, of course. And their plan to move in together after school had gone through nearly without a hitch, moving in to Alphard's flat. It was dusty and too stiff and posh to be comfortable, so they'd broken through some walls, got rid of all the curtains and sold most of the furniture. They got the comfiest couch they could find in a charity shop, almost got arrested trying to transport it back using the Muggle tube, and Sirius had started a garden in the bathtub of the servant's bathroom. He had also started to realize that the way he felt about Remus had always been slightly different than how he felt about the others.
Sirius Black had never been in love. He had never been interested in it, either. He'd fooled around a bit at school, but that was more because everyone else was doing it than that it was something he wanted. But now, he was starting to realize what he did want. The flirting had gotten a new weight, a new sincerity that Sirius was both terrified and hopeful Remus would pick up on. Remus hadn't changed his behavior one bit, but that might be because they had been like this for years now: close enough to touch if either of them took the slightest step forward.
He didn't know why he hadn't seen it before, in all those years at Hogwarts. It might be that they were such good friends that he liked to stay that way. The Marauders were tight-knit and in a way, their group of friends was the only true home Sirius had ever known. To Remus, they meant even more, Sirius knew. He could never really fathom how Remus's mind worked, but he knew that their support had played a big role in Remus's acceptance of himself. As Sirius had, he'd found a sort of redemption there, too.
Yes, he had been blind, but now he knew he could not stop seeing Remus everywhere, and love all of it. Love his stack of videotapes, his mugs with swear words on them, his filthy coffee. The notes he scribbled and left lying everywhere. His terrible handwriting. The way he curled up in his armchair, the ridiculously ornate armchair that was one of the few things of Alphard's they kept, and they kept it only because Remus had said it was comfy. The way his shoulders hunched when he was cold. His moodiness. His sarcasm. His never ending fight to be as good a person as he can be.
Sirius shook his head, but couldn't bring himself to be ashamed at his sappiness. He stepped into bed. Soon, he thought. Soon he'd take Remus on on his offer. He would fall asleep next to him and in the morning, maybe, he would tell him how he felt. And they would kiss, and all would be all right.
Second part: the poetic description of the lover
You once whined for hours about me tempting you- which is really ironic, since it has been the other way around for a long time. I am the expert at denying myself things I want, or, in this case, people I want. I am good at resisting temptation. I can imagine the way you look reading this, Sirius. I know you think I am referring to the fact I will touch your bum at any opportunity presented to me. And who can blame me? It's a really great arse you have, love. Truly marvelous. Wait, where was I going with this again?
Sirius woke up to the Ramones and the smell of pancakes. Peter made those sometimes, a whole stack of them, before he went to work. Nice. It was light out, so Sirius had managed to get a couple of hours of sleep in and was feeling quite ok for the morning. He made himself get out of bed and paddled into the kitchen, where a very sleepy Remus was sitting behind a stack of pancakes, James was fully dressed and far too chipper for the hour, and Peter was pouring the last of the batter into the frying pan. Sirius plopped down at the kitchen table, where Remus pushed a steaming mug in his direction without even making eye contact. Grateful, he took a sip, while James and Peter were getting ready to leave: James for his morning run (and, they suspected, a secret visit to Lily, who lived with her parents again) and Peter for work. In an hour, Sirius and James both had to be at Auror training again. Remus did research and wrote articles during the day, mostly. Sirius had no idea what he was working on, now. He wanted to ask, but made the mistake to look at Remus and find him looking back, his hair a mess of curls and his eyes half closed, not fully awake yet. His cheeks were rosy from sleep and the hot tea and the corners of his mouth looked like they concealed secrets.
"Hey." He said instead, his voice throaty, original question forgotten completely.
Remus cocked his head, amused. Sirius tried to get the swirling in his stomach under control. This was getting out of hand.
"Good morning to you, too." Had he really never noticed how much shades of brown there were in Remus? His eyelashes, his amber eyes, his curls that could get a golden sheen to them in the sunlight, the way they hung a bit too low over his eyes, his light brows. His hands were big but his fingers short, reassuring hands, hands to feel safe in. And his slender frame was strong and lean. He looked both the epitome of strength and softness and Sirius had no idea how to achieve either of those things. He had never been soft. Even his affection always had a rough edge to it. For all the skills that his parents cultivated, showing love in any capacity was not on the list. And though he was brave, he had never been as strong as Remus, the kind of strength that is on the inside. The dusting of freckles on his nose were another shade of brown as well. Managing to resist the urge to lean in and kiss them, Sirius emptied his tea mug and high tailed out of the kitchen, telling Remus he was grabbing a shower.
He remembered Remus as a kid, but didn't really remember him. His memories of first year were shaped by instances, things they did together, sticky fingers from pranks prepared. He didn't remember what they all looked like, not really, only that Remus had always been a bit sickly looking around the moon. His hair was brown, bit mousy, even more than Peter's. His face was thin, his smile toothy. Sirius had been awfully self absorbed in that time, and revelling too much in his newfound friendship with James Potter to really notice the boy on the other side of his dormitory, and Remus hadn't tried to remedy that. When they did become friends, Remus remained a quiet person, fastidious in his schoolwork, kind to everyone, but aloof, somehow. James was the one who thought something was up, and they should investigate. That is when Sirius really started to look.
They must have known each other for over a year already when he started to notice Remus wasn't necessarily shy. The more he felt at home with the Marauders, the more he showed of his rebellious personality, of his scathing humor, of his frustrations. No, Remus wasn't shy: he was guarded. And even when they found out his secret, even when they became Animagi for him and became closer than Sirius thought any group of friends should be, even then, Remus held onto a tiny bit of himself that Sirius could never reach. That no one could reach.
Sirius closed his eyes and let the water of the shower drown out his thoughts.
The third part: a conversation in touches
I know you think you were terrible at talking to me. And you were, a bit. You never knew what to say. But Peter and James, while they were supportive and great with words, and everything, they were both from such normal families. Loving parents, Christmases with that one annoying uncle- you get what I mean. They were never as messed up as we were. You were never tactful, or nice. But you understood.
Remus was standing across the street when Sirius left Auror training that evening, half an hour late and in a terrible mood. He had a hard time obeying authority, and that never went over well at the Ministry, that day being no exception. After mouthing off some instructor, he had been benched for nearly the whole afternoon, bored out of his mind. Remus looked like he had been standing there a while, his trenchcoat flapping in the London wind, cheeks rosy. Sirius crossed the road a little hurriedly, brightening immediately.
"You almost got squashed by a bus, Padfoot. I would have thought you'd prefer a more glamorous ending." Remus remarked.
"Exactly! Which is why some bus would never best me. I am disappointed in your lack of faith in me!"
Remus chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, my sincerest apologies. You wanna grab a pint around the corner?"
"Would I let a fellow Marauder down?" Sirius replied, his tone light as he fell in step with Remus. It had taken him approximately 2.4 seconds to notice something was wrong, but he knew better than to ask Remus about it before they had made it to the pub. If Remus would close up, there was not a power in the 'verse that could get him to admit to something, let alone talk about his feelings. Sirius couldn't fuck up. If he would push Remus too much, he would marinate in whatever this was until kingdom come, and though he preened internally at the fact that Remus had come to him, he wished it had been James. James was definitely the best at feelings-talk. Must have been his upbringing. It had been the Potters that had taught Sirius there were alternatives to repressing everything and have only the occasional explosions of frustration. He had been twelve years behind, so generally, he was the worst of the Marauders at handling these matters.
When they arrived and found a spot, Remus downed his first pint in under two minutes and ordered a second one right away. Ah, Sirius thought. Of course. He might have been the worst one to talk to, but when it came to ignoring everything and drinking your woes away, Sirius was the best partner one could hope for. Although, this time, he didn't seem to be able to keep up; Remus was already on this third pint.
Sirius cleared his throat, chickened out, cleared his throat again, and finally said: "So... What's up with you?"
Remus looked at him, already a bit hazy. "We live together. You know what is going on in my life, Pads."
Sirius soldiered on. "Yes, but... Is there anything new? With... work, or something? Or something else?"
"I got asked out by the cute cashier at the supermarket. Said no, though. She wanted to go to the movies on Saturday, and the full's that night."
And that is the reason you said no? The full? Nothing else?
"Oh. Pity." Sirius said.
Remus looked at him. Sirius hadn't sounded sorry at all, and Remus probably noticed, despite his rapidly increasing drunkenness. "I might reschedule," he said, eyes narrowing.
Sirius shrugged and took a big gulp of his drink.
"Whatever you want, mate." He put down his glass again and said after a beat, "Or you could tell me what has had you in a strop lately."
"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that I'm a social outcast who has to suffer excruciating pain every month? Is that enough reason to be in a strop? Or do I have to have to be an orphan, too? Maybe live in a cave? Feed off small rodents?"
"Don't be petty. It doesn't suit you."
Remus glowered at him. Sirius met his stare unflinchingly. As rare and frightening a sight a hacked off Remus Lupin was, Sirius knew he could handle it. Also, it was slightly less impressive if Remus's elbow slid off the table at that precise moment, causing him to almost knock over his pint. Sirius tried very hard not to snicker, and failed.
"Shut up."
Sirius schooled his face back in a more solemn expression, even though he felt the corners of his mouth quirk involuntarily. Remus was fighting his grin, too. He shoved his pint aside and said, too casual, "I didn't register today."
Sirius looked at him, wide eyed. He knew werewolves had to register within six months of their coming of age. Today was September 10th. The final day where Remus could have registered. It all made sense now, the moodiness, the existential questions, the going out at weird hours... Remus had been mulling over whether to register, knowing that this decision would determine his position in wizarding society for the rest of his life. And he'd decided not to do it. Which made him, from tomorrow on out, a criminal. It was unlikely he would be found out, as Remus was clever and well adjusted, not fitting most werewolf stereotypes in the slightest. But if found out, it was very well possible he would never set foot outside of Azkaban again. The Ministry did not look kindly to werewolves in general, and were ruthless to the ones that broke the law.
"Shit, Moony," he said. "That's... I mean, well, fuck. That is big. Are you, alright, I guess?"
"Eloquent." Remus took another sip. Then he added, "I'm ok."
It didn't sound convincing. He tried again.
"It's just, with the war on, the werewolf restrictions are getting worse by the week, and in this political climate, I feel like it will be a matter of time until someone orders a cull. And being registered would mean to carry a Trace for life. What if I get a mission for the Order? I would be utterly useless. And what if some hotshot decides to have a nice little hunting party with his friends?" Remus looked at him, his face contorted in a heartbreaking mix of anger and sadness.
"Nobody gives a shit about dead werewolves, Pads. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with a target on my back."
Sirius felt sick. He'd known this, theoretically. They'd talked about this together, the four of them, when they were still at Hogwarts, but for some reason he had never really realized what it would mean for Remus. He remembered the stories from his grandfather, Cygnus Black, about hunting and killing werewolves. The Registry was public, and the Blacks way too powerful a family to get prosecuted for a little fun. Besides, it was pureblood tradition. Sirius was close to crying. Not knowing what to say, he grabbed Remus's hand over the dingy pub table and squeezed, hard. Remus squeezed back until his fingertips turned white.
the fourth part: the declaration of the heart
I know you wonder why I never said it.
I always wanted a family of my own. I wouldn't have admitted to that a couple of months ago, but it's true. It is also the one thing I can't really have. Or maybe I can? I don't know anymore. But a family, a partner, that would mean letting a person closer than anyone else. Letting them in completely. I survived a lot, Sirius. But I don't know if I could survive loving you.
James and Remus were sat in the corner of the room, having what seemed like a heated discussion. James was gesticulating wildly, while Remus had a calm but serious demeanor, and an authoritative quality to his voice that he only broke out when he wanted to get his point across. Sirius found it really hot, and it distracted him enough to lose his fourth game of Exploding Snap to Peter, even faster than usual. At his sixth attempt to stealthily glance over to admire the set of Remus's shoulder, Peter shot a card against his head.
"Oy!"
Sirius looked back at his friend, irritated. "What?" he barked.
"Get your head in the game, man. You barely stand a chance if you give it your all. Now, it is just plain boring for me to play. Even winning gets old if it gets too easy."
"Are you getting tired of the one thing you're better at than the rest of us?" Sirius snapped, then immediately regretted it. Peter was insecure about things like that. To Sirius's surprise, however, Peter merely shrugged.
"Nah, I'm not tired of getting laid, which is the other thing I'm better at than you," he said, almost challenging. Sirius laughed. It was true, Peter could be charming, the little rat. And of the other Marauders, one was a werewolf, one was hopelessly hung up on one girl, and
one always preferred spending time with his friends to spending time with other people, even if there was a purpose to it as enjoyable as sex.
"Actually, Pete, I think James is the one who has sex the most, nowadays." Remus remarked, sounding amused. Apparently the conversation was over. James was positively beaming next to him.
"He has a steady girlfriend! That doesn't count!"
"Au contraire, my dear Wormtail! I played the long game! Instead of fleeting romances and meaningless sexual encounters, I have managed to arrange a situation where I get to have sex on a regular basis with someone really hot that I love and that is also Lily Evans. I win this game so hard. I win all the games. I do nothing but win!"
Sirius tried not to laugh and looked at Remus, who was clearly trying the same thing. They had heard worse over the years from James, honestly. Peter was now huffing indignantly about how James was a disaster, really, and one case was not enough evidence for a sound thesis, and Remus clearly didn't want to get caught up in that, so he went to collect the dishes. Sirius followed. He liked doing the washing up, secretly. He sometimes pictured the look on his mother's face if she knew that he was doing manual labor, the Muggle way.
After dumping the dishes in the sink, Remus went to get the tea towel, while Sirius began the rinsing. They worked well around each other, in companionable silence. Sirius loved the domesticity of it.
"So," Remus said after a while, while drying a tea mug, "Who was right, Prongs or Wormtail?"
Sirius snickered. "Wormtail, by default." He bent to get extra dish soap from the lower kitchen cabinets. "Also, he is definitely the best at picking up chicks. Lily losing her mind does not a player make."
Remus let out a small hum of agreement, still drying the mug.
"Although it did sound nice, the regular sex with someone you love." Sirius added, on a whim.
Remus looked up, surprised. "I didn't know you were such a romantic, Padfoot."
"I'm not!"
"Padfoot." Remus said, gently.
Sirius' cheeks burned, and he was suddenly even more aware of every time they bumped into each other, every time Remus's bony elbow brushed past his shoulder when he put away the teacups, or his fingers against his own when he took a plate from him to dry.
"Padfoot."
Reluctantly, he looked up. Remus was standing closer than Sirius had realized, and he had a strange look on his face. Then, he leaned in and very slowly, giving him time to move away, pressed a kiss to Sirius's lips.
Remus Lupin was kissing him on a Thursday evening, right in the middle of the kitchen.
Sirius gasped into the kiss, responding on instinct. Remus's lips were dry, but their pressure on Sirius's was firm, making his nose poke into Sirius's cheek. His heart was beating so fast Sirius was afraid Remus would be able to feel the thrum of it, right through his lips. Shakily, he brought up a soapy, wet hand to Remus's jaw, and pressed back more insistently. He felt Remus smile against his mouth, which was one of the most wonderful things he ever experienced, and he thought he wouldn't need a broom to fly anymore if Remus just kept kissing him, forever. Then Remus pulled back.
The high of the kiss combined oddly with the sudden rush of fear Sirius felt. What did Remus want? Did he love him back? Did he kiss him as a joke? He kissed him! Remus kissed him! But why?
"I want to start by saying there is nothing wrong with being a romantic, Pads," Remus said, sounding a bit breathless. "And now we have that all cleared up, I'd like to add that you definitely are one."
Sirius found his voice. "What is the basis of this accusation?" he said, but he was smiling, and Remus was smiling too, his hair slightly mussed and a wet streak of dish soap on his cheek, and Sirius was so, so in love.
"Gentlemen! Who is up for a night out?" James called out from the living room.
Sirius wanted to kill him, but Remus winked at him before leaving the kitchen, so he gathered that things were gonna be alright.
the fifth part: the signature
What I have been trying to say, I guess, is that I am not afraid anymore. No, that is not right. I am terrified. But I am also in love with you. I gave in. I love you.
Please come kiss me now.
Remus