Archive of Our Own

5.

They were fifteen when it started.

"Moony!" James crowed, leaping up from his seat and flinging himself at his mate as Remus stood on the threshold of their train compartment. "Thought you were going to miss the train!" he continued, after thumping Remus soundly on the back.

"Shh," Remus said, cautiously glancing around. "No need to shout your idiotic pet name for me to the entire train."

"Awww, it's all right, Remus," James said, entirely unrepentant, as he collapsed back in his seat. "Everyone's so wrapped up in their mandatory 'How was your holiday?' 'Just topping, and yours?'" – his voice bounced into mocking registers – "they couldn't care less what I've said."

"Hi, Remus," Peter said, scooting over to make room on his side. "You can sit with me." Not that there was much choice, seeing as Sirius had managed to sprawl across all the remaining space on his and James' side.

"Thank you, Peter," Remus said, gracious, as always. Sirius just stared as his friend folded himself into the offered seat. Remus looked … well, good.

"Wow, look at you!" James remarked, cutting into Sirius's reverie and nodding at the shiny badge on the front of Remus's jumper. "Prefect, eh? Far out, man."

"Yes," Remus answered, blushing a little. "I was rather surprised, myself."

"Guess you'll be keeping us all in line, then," piped up Peter, grinning.

"Heaven forbid," James groaned, flinging a hand over his eyes in a melodramatic manner. "You wouldn't rat us out, would you, Moony?"

Remus just stretched out his legs, crossed his arms and smiled. "Depends on just how much trouble you try to get us all into."

James nudged Remus' trainer with his own. "Geez, Remus, had a run-in with a stretching jinx this summer, did you?" He elbowed Sirius next to him. "Can you believe it?"

I can't believe I want to run my hands up those legs, and find out exactly how long they are. Sirius shook his head, trying to shake off the strange impulse that seemed to have possessed him. "He's taller, all right," he mumbled.

James glanced sideways at his best friend. "What's up with you, anyway? You haven't even said hello, yet."

"Sorry, Moony," Sirius said promptly, slapping a grin on his face. "You got so tall, hardly recognized you." He leaned diagonally across the compartment to clap Remus on the shoulder. Remus leaned in slightly, too, to make it easier for Sirius to reach; their faces were so close, Sirius could see a small nick where Remus must have cut himself shaving. When had he started shaving?. Sirius fought a sudden urge to kiss the small mark, and abruptly pushed himself back to a sitting position with an overly cheerful "Good to see you again, and congratulations on working for the Man" to cover his confusion

Remus rolled his eyes, oblivious to Sirius' turmoil. "Gee, thanks, Sirius," he said, but he was smiling.

Remus began chatting about the books he'd read over the summer, the visit to Cornwall he'd taken with his parents, the times his father took him fishing down by the stream near his home. Sirius knew much of this from Remus's letters, already, and let his mind wander. It wasn't just that Remus had grown taller over the summer. He had none of the awkward, gangly phase many of their peers had passed through. Maybe it was just because they were still two weeks from the full moon, and Remus had had plenty of time to regain his equilibrium, but he positively glowed good health. Well, for him, anyway. There were always small etches of pain around his eyes and mouth, echoes of the monthly agony he endured, but his brown hair, cut into its typical feathered shag, was glossy. His shoulders had broadened, his face had new, chiseled angles, and - Sirius turned to look out the window, hoping it would hide the flush he could feel creeping up his neck – Remus smelled good. He couldn't believe he was thinking of that, but when they'd both leaned forward, it had hit him like a bludger. Part of it was the easy, familiar smell of Remus, part of the scent of their dorm room, of their escapades. But there was something different this time, a new undertone of musk that had Sirius inhaling more deeply than he had intended.

Sirius hoped it was just some unusual aberration. This wasn't the first time a bloke had caught his eye – something that he was slowly coming to grips with. But it was the first time it really mattered. James might be his best mate, but Remus was a close second, and the last thing he wanted was for some weird attraction to make things uncomfortable between them.

But it wasn't until halfway through the train journey, after Remus had returned from the prefects' meeting in the first car, that Sirius realized he was so, so fucked. Their compartment had grown somewhat warm from the afternoon sun shining through the windows, and so, without comment, Remus had tugged his jumper over his head before reclaiming his seat. As he did so, his shirt rode up along with the jumper, revealing a glimpse of skin above his waistband. Skin that Sirius had seen plenty of times over the years, but which had never affected him until now.

Dammit.

4.

"Happy birthday, Sirius!"

Sirius felt something hit his head with a considerable amount of force as he blinked awake. James was standing at the foot of the bed, tossing parcels through the gap in his four-poster curtains.

"Cut it out," Sirius grumbled, but without any real rancor. He was seventeen! He literally could not be required to have anything to do with his family ever again.

"That one's from me," James said, pointing at the small parcel now resting by Sirius' pillow and looking far too innocuous to have caused the bruise Sirius could already feel forming above his right ear. "The others are too busy snoring to care about your birthday."

"Not true!" called Remus from beyond the hangings, his voice oddly high up. "It's just that some prats - and we won't mention any names – were so eager to be first he put a Levicorpus on the rest of us."

This, Sirius had to see. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed aside his hangings, only to see three other boys floating upside down over their beds, faces red, hair askew, pyjama tops falling into their faces. He roared with laughter, even as he and James set about releasing their dorm mates from the spell.

"In all seriousness, Sirius," Remus said, rubbing his head, where he'd fallen back to his mattress, "Happy birthday." He handed over a small parcel.

"Thanks, mate." Sirius took the parcel and tore off the paper, despite James' outburst that he should open his gift first, seeing as he'd been the first to give it.

"Technically, James, you only threw it at me, rather than properly handing it over."

"Semantics, Sirius. Semantics."

With the paper free, Sirius shook open the box and out fell … a watch.

Sirius looked up, mouth open. "Thank you," he breathed. A watch was the traditional gift for coming of age, but being the Griffindor disgrace in the Black family, he did not expect anything nearly so nice from them or, really, anything at all. A quick scan of the parcels on the floor confirmed this – there was nothing in his mother's handwriting, and what looked like only a terse card from his brother.

The watch meant everything to him, and yet….

"Remus, how on earth did you afford this?"

Remus flushed a little and looked away, biting his lip. Sirius tried not to stare at his mouth. "Don't worry about it, Sirius. I just … I wanted to do something nice for you."

Sirius looked sternly at his second-best friend. "Remus."

Remus sighed. "Roger O'Connor been paying me to do his homework for him."

He heard their other dorm-mate, Sebastian, bark out a laugh. "That Hufflepuff idiot?"

The flush grew deeper. "Yeah, well, the 'idiot'" - Remus made air quotes with his fingers - "pays well. I only started doing it because I wanted to save up for, well, for this." He nodded his chin at the watch in Sirius' hands. "But even then, I could only afford something second-hand." He bit his lip again. "I hope it's ok."

"I can't wait to see Roger fall on his face when you stop helping him," James chuckled.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Honestly, James." But Sirius didn't care. Remus had done this for him. He might not know the feelings Sirius had been harboring, but that made it even more special. Carefully, he slipped the watch onto his wrist, and then pulled Remus to him in a hug. "Thanks," he murmured against Remus's ear.

He felt Remus pull in a breath beneath the embrace before he replied, "You're welcome."

"Well, come on, then, Sirius, open ours, too," Peter piped up, and the moment was broken. Sirius opened the others' gifts, and James disappeared for fifteen minutes only to reappear with a cake in his hands.

"House elves will give you anything if you ask," he said in response to their excited questions. The boys cheerfully dove into the cake, completely ignoring the fact that they hadn't had breakfast yet.

"Any particular reason you didn't nick some forks while you were at it?" Remus asked.

James shrugged, unapologetically, licking icing off his fingers. "Laziness? Didn't occur to me?"

Remus rolled his eyes, then grinned as his eyes fell on Sirius. "C'mere, birthday boy, you've got icing on your cheek." He stepped into Sirius' space, rubbing at the offending spot with his thumb and Sirius nearly stopped breathing; Remus was so close, he could feel his warmth through the fabric of their pyjama tops.

Almost against their own volition, Sirius' eyes dropped to Remus' mouth. There, Sirius could see a miniscule dot of icing on his lower lip and, without thinking, he lifted his own hand to brush it away. Remus' lips parted briefly in surprise, and it took all Sirius had in him not to take advantage of those temptingly parted lips.

"All right, all right, I get it. Next time I'll grab forks. And napkins, since apparently you all are such slobs," James interjected. Sirius stepped back, heart in his mouth. What had he been thinking?

"Yes, well," he replied, swiping another fingerful of cake, more to cover his confusion than because he really needed more sugar. His heart was racing plenty as it was. "We are a bunch of animals, aren't we?"

3.
"That was fun, wasn't it?" Peter piped up, as soon as he'd transformed back into himself. James and Sirius were already in human form; it sometimes took Peter an extra minute to make the switch, although he was perfectly good at changing into rat form these days.

"Always," James yawned, stretching. "I just wish it was possible to have fun and sleep at the same time."

"But we always go back to bed after breakfast, Padfoot," Peter replied. "At least you're one of the top ones in class and don't have to spend so much time on homework. I still don't understand what Professor Slughorn said about—"

"James has a Quidditch game in about four hours," Sirius interrupted. "Match against Slytherin, remember?"

"Oh, right," Peter replied. He glanced down at the sleeping form by their feet. "Think Remus will be up for coming?"

"Maybe," James replied. "He seems to be recovering faster now that we keep him from hurting hi- him …himself," he finished, choking off another yawn.

"Prongs, go to bed," Sirius admonished. "You can at least get a couple of hours' rest before the game."

"I hate not staying for Moony, though," James protested, stifling yet another yawn. "We swore he'd never be alone once we'd learned to transform."

"I'll stay with him," Sirius said. "No, really," he continued, as James made to protest and Peter looked to already be edging toward the door. "I'll be fine. It's not like I need to be alert enough to catch a Snitch later."

James frowned, clearly torn between wanting to accept, and feeling disloyal at leaving his friend behind. "You sure, Pads?"

"Yes." Sirius made shooing motions. "Go sleep so I don't have to deal with the shame of looking at Snivelus' gloating face if we lose."

"All right, all right," James said, laughing. He followed Peter out the door and their footsteps were soon gone.

"It's just you and me, Remus," Sirius said, settling on the floor. Remus Lupin slept on, one bare leg poking out of the blanket his friends had draped over him. For some reason, they all were able to change back into humans wearing the same clothing they'd had on before transforming, but Remus always came back with nothing. James theorized it had to do with the fact that turning into an Animagus was a spell that involved everything, but being a werewolf was in your blood and, as such, did not affect clothing.

Sirius tried not to stare at the expanse of skin – it was just a leg, after all, nothing more. He'd gotten good at averting his gaze over the years. Truthfully, all boys mastered the art of Not Looking in pretty short order. Not Looking in the dormitory. Not Looking in the showers. Looking would get you called a pansy at best, and hexed, or punched - or both - at worst. But Not Looking at Remus was different. It wasn't just a matter of avoiding an eyeful of your friend's bits. That was just polite. But this was … Sirius wasn't really sure. Well, he was – he had been for several years now – but he'd tried not to think about that too much. Tried not to think about the way he'd tried not to even imagine, inside his own head, what was on display as Remus changed clothing, or when he lay naked, as he did now, beneath a moth-eaten blanket.

Instead, he focused on his friend's face. Remus had transformed back into himself as soon as the first rays of dawn had touched the surrounding hills and the moon began to dip below the opposite horizon. His chin was stubbled as it would be on any other morning and, despite himself, Sirius couldn't resist the urge to reach out and gently brush one finger along his roughened jaw. Remus stirred briefly at the touch, turning his face toward Sirius' questing hand. Sirius immediately snatched his finger back, holding his breath, but Remus's breathing immediately smoothed out again and he sank back into deep sleep. Sirius had a sudden vision of waking Remus with a kiss just like in a Muggle fairy tale he'd once read, and gave a shaky laugh at the thought. But in the end, he settled himself more firmly on the hard, dusty floor, and waited patiently for Remus to wake.

2.

"Breathe, Prongs," Sirius said, patting James awkwardly on the back.

"Easy … for you … to say," James gasped from between his knees, where Sirius had positioned him when it looked like the groom was going to pass out. "You're not … the one … getting … getting…."

"Married," Sirius prompted. "Come on, say it with me. Married."

"Married." It came out as barely more than a whisper.

"Why are your y-fronts all up in a twist? You're the one who proposed, you know."

James shook his head weakly, but Sirius was relieved to see a little color was coming back into his face. "It seemed like a good idea at the time?" he mumbled.

"Of course it's a good idea," Sirius said cheerfully. "None of us can keep you in line anymore – you need that girl. Besides," he added, "she's a hell of a lot prettier than any of the rest of us."

James laughed and raised his head, finally returning to a proper sitting position. "Yeah, as fond as I am of you, mate, I'm just not interested in snogging you."

"I'm heartbroken, Prongs," Sirius said, clutching his heart theatrically. "And here I thought we had something special."

"Sorry, Padfoot," James said, reaching up to clap Sirius on the upper arm. "I'm afraid I'm taken. But I'm sure it won't be long until you're the one standing up there –" he nodded at the makeshift altar in his parents' back garden – "and I get to play best man."

"Maybe," Sirius murmured. A flash of shaggy brown hair caught the corner of his vision; Remus had just seated an elderly witch and was graciously bowing over her hand before leaving, ever the proper usher. "You all right now?" he asked. "I should, uh, probably see if your grandparents are ready to be seated."

"Yes, I think I can manage." James stood up and ruffled his best friend's hair. "Thanks for looking out for me today."

"Of course." Sirius hurried off in search of Remus, automatically combing his fingers through his hair to re-tidy it as he went.

"Hey, Sirius!" Remus exclaimed as Sirius rounded a corner behind the rose trellises. He pulled Sirius into a rough hug, then stepped back and looked around. "Where's the groom?"

"Pulling himself together," Sirius replied, grinning.

Remus's hands slid down from Sirius' shoulders and loosely clasped his forearms as he took in Sirius' appearance. "You clean up well," he said, finally.

"Thanks, you, too," Sirius replied, unable to stop his eyes from roving all over Remus' frame and feeling the warmth of Remus' hands like a brand against his skin, even through his sleeves. Even though he was the one in the brand-new powder-blue robes, it was Remus who seemed to outshine everyone here. His deep green robes were probably second-hand, but they were neat and pressed, and the color brought out his hazel eyes. Sirius didn't think even James, in his wedding robes, looked half so handsome.

"I, uh … oh!" Remus said, suddenly noticing he was still gripping Sirius' arms. "Sorry, I probably got you all wrinkled," he added, unnecessarily smoothing his hands over the fabric, like Sirius needed to be touched even more right now, when he was supposed to be focusing on … someone. Right now he was having trouble remembering.

"It's fine," he murmured. He realized his eyes had been lingering on Remus' lips as they shaped his apology, and he forced himself to look up. Those hazel eyes were burning into him, the light brown brows furrowed in confusion. Sirius could feel his breathing coming in shallow bursts, and he positively itched to lean forward those last few inches and….

"Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards, if you would please find your seats, we are about to begin." The officiant's voice cut through the blur of Sirius' thoughts, bringing him back to reality. Right. The Wedding.

"I should go," Sirius said. What had he been thinking? The truth was, he hadn't. Been thinking, that is. They were standing in full view of anyone, and it was James and Lily's wedding day, for Merlin's sake. He stepped away from Remus and pasted a smile on his face. "Gotta go make sure the groom doesn't collapse – again – before he can say 'I do.'"

"Of course," Remus replied brightly. "I'd better make sure the last guests find their places."

Both men hurried off to their respective duties, and, moments later, the wedding began.

1.

Sirius would have known Remus anywhere.

The last thirteen years had not been especially kind to him – that much was clear. His light brown hair was going prematurely grey, and his face and hands bore far more scars than Sirius remembered. But aside from that, he looked fairly well fed, and stood straight and tall as he always had, the quiet dignity he had never lost, no matter how people had mistreated him. His familiar hazel eyes bore into Sirius as he asked, voice tense, "Where is he?"

"He" needed no clarification. Without a word, Sirius pointed at the bed.

"But then…" Lupin paused a moment, clearly trying to put the pieces together. "Why hasn't he shown himself? Unless…" His eyes widened. "…you switched … and didn't tell me?"

Sirius nodded, throat tight. He deserved Harry's hatred, but he wasn't sure he could bear it if Remus did not believe him.

But Remus did more than believe him. He reached out a hand, hauled Sirius to his feet, and hugged him, hard. Sirius was so startled, it took him a moment to respond, but then he tightened his hold around Remus' slim frame with everything he had in him. How he'd missed this – the touch of another human soul. Touch that didn't involve scabbed, rotting hands. There was no rattling of chains or rattling of breath, only the sound of Remus whispering in his ear, over and over, "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay." And somehow, after thirteen of the least okay years Sirius had ever been through, plus a year of skulking around Hogwarts, consumed by thoughts of revenge, Sirius allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, it might be true.

There was no room in his heart or mind for anything else right then. Thoughts of their boyhood and early adulthood together seemed impossibly far away, like they'd happened to someone else entirely. Hermione was shrieking at Remus, and Remus was trying to explain, and Harry looked so confused Sirius wasn't sure he'd ever be able to understand or accept the truth. But the warmth of that embrace, the whispers in his ear stayed with him, even though Remus had let go in order to talk to the teenagers. It hadn't been sexual, not in the slightest. But it was a welcome home like none other – a welcome home for his humanity. Sirius felt it unfolding, expanding in his chest like an engorgement charm, better than anything he'd ever felt in his whole life.

A gift more precious than gold. Sirius could have kissed him for that.

+1

"Lay low at Lupin's" Dumbledore had said and so, with nowhere else to go, that's what Sirius does. Remus has a small flat in the unremarkable town of Hull; there's only one bedroom so Sirius is kipping on the sofa, but that's all right. It's still miles better than Azkaban, or curling up as a dog in a forest cave.

At first, Sirius doesn't do much except sleep, worry about Harry, and watch Muggle TV. Occasionally he slips out at night as Padfoot, but otherwise, he stays hidden. Remus is often out during the day, finding odd jobs to pay the rent, or going out on Dumbledore's business, so Sirius tries to help out by doing dishes and other menial tasks in an attempt to repay Remus for his kindness. He could actually repay Remus from his Gringott's vault – he still has quite a lot, even after buying Harry the Firebolt – but he knows Remus would never put up with that. In the end, he asks Dumbledore for the Wolfsbane recipe and laboriously prepares the potion in the dimly lit, blandly painted kitchen. This, at least, feels like an actual contribution, and he relishes the moment, that first month, when Remus spends the night curled up on the floor next to him. He'd transformed into the giant dog just in case, but he'd apparently remembered enough of Slughorn's long-ago lessons that everything had gone smoothly.

It sucks, being trapped in a small flat, but spending time with Remus again is a balm to his soul. They start small; Sirius doesn't have much to share from the vault of "So, tell me about what you've been up to the past thirteen years?" Nothing he really wants to relive, anyway. But he's happy to listen to Remus talk about the things he'd seen and done, the places he'd visited in his search for work, places where he wouldn't be known as a werewolf. It turned out Remus had also spent some time living in a cave when he'd stopped for a month or two to pick fruit in some German orchards, although at least he hadn't had to eat rats. And there was the year when he'd taught at Hogwarts, which Sirius had only seen in glimpses in his attempts to nab Peter. He drinks up every story, even the ones where he wishes for the millionth time that he hadn't been in Azkaban – not simply because it was a nightmarish place to be – but so that he might have been around to spare Remus from the many indignities he'd suffered over the years.

As the weeks pass, Remus' stories shift from talk of the past to the work he's doing for the newly resurrected Order of the Phoenix.

"I wish you didn't have to deal with that filth," Sirius growls.

Remus raises an eyebrow. "You realize that I'm 'that filth,' too?"

"No, you're not," Sirius retorts hotly. "You got the bite, but you're nothing like Greyback and his followers. They don't even try to be human anymore."

"Very few people see the difference, you know that," Remus sighs, and Sirius does. He knows that's why Remus has suffered so much over the years, even though he's the purest and most decent person Sirius has ever known. But it doesn't make him any happier.

"Doesn't Dumbledore know any other werewolves?" he grumbles, but he knows Remus is the only one Dumbledore can trust, for precisely that reason: the majority of the other lycanthropes in England have embraced their lives as outcasts, harboring their vicious grudges towards the magical community.

"It's not so bad," Remus soothes. "Not yet, anyway. All I'm doing right now is scouting them out, making a few small advances. I don't have to live with them." He turns his face to the window, where darkness has fallen. "Not yet anyway."

"Why now?" Sirius demands. "You didn't have to do this during the first war."

Remus shrugs. "Things were different then. We had different people in the Order, with different skills. We had James and Lily, the Prewitts, the Longbottoms…."

Sirius is quiet for a moment, remembering. "I miss them," he says quietly.

Remus is just as quiet. "I do, too."

"Remember James and Lily's wedding?" Sirius says, a small laugh working its way through the knot in his throat. "I thought James was going to wet himself, he was so nervous."

"And there Lily was, cool as a freshwater plimpy," Remus says, taking up the thread of the story.

Sirius shakes his head in rueful amusement. "She could be calm and she could be a spitfire, with that red hair of hers." He raises his eyes to the ceiling, blinking hard. "I like to remember them that way - happy. Not in hiding."

"I like to remember you that way, too."

Sirius turns his head. Remus has spoken so quietly, he isn't sure he'd heard him correctly. "What?"

Remus reaches out and brushes a lock of Sirius' hair that had fallen into his face. "It hurt so much when I thought you'd been the one to betray Lily and James, sometimes I would try not to remember you at all." He takes a deep breath. "But I couldn't ever forget you, even when I was upset. And always, always, the memories I had were of you being happy, not in prison, not in hiding."

Sirius brings up a hand to curl around Remus' wrist. "Moony…"

Remus shakes his head. "You mentioned the Potters' wedding and how happy they were. You know what I remember most about that day?"

It's Sirius' turn to shake his head.

"You," Remus says simply.

Sirius blinks. "Me?"

"You." Remus smiles gently. "I could hardly talk, you looked so handsome, so happy."

Sirius remembers the moment. Remus' hands on his shoulders, then sliding down to his forearms, hazel eyes burning into him. "I remember thinking you outshone everyone that day, even James," he says.

"Pffft." Remus rolls his eyes. "I'm nothing."

"That's not true!" Sirius protests. "James might have been my best friend, but you were … you were everything."

Remus' smile turns rueful. "Why didn't we do anything, all those years ago?" he asks quietly.

"I didn't know how you felt," Sirius says, his thumb stroking lightly against the underside of Remus' wrist and watching Remus' eyes darken a little in response. "And even though blokes liking other blokes isn't accepted very well now, it was much, much worse in the '70s."

"I'm already shunned for something beyond my control," Remus says. "I'm not sure I care anymore what anyone else thinks."

"And I've definitely lost public favour," Sirius replies with a small laugh.

Remus reaches out with his other hand, gently stroking Sirius' jaw. "Then I guess there's only one thing left to do." And he leans forward, closing the small remaining space between them. His mouth touches Sirius' and

and

and

Sirius is in heaven. Remus' mouth is soft and warm, just barely brushing his lips. He starts to pull back, but Sirius curls a hand around the base of his skull, halting the retreat so he can recapture that soft, warm mouth. Their kisses, so light and tentative at first, turn more heated as Remus parts his lips, inviting entrance. And Sirius never was one to turn away from a dare. He dives in, his tongue sweeping the contours of Remus' mouth, the angles of his teeth, the ridges on the arch, and Remus makes a low moan in his throat, reminiscent of his lupine growls. Something inside Sirius breaks loose at that, and he growls out a "Moony," before hungrily reclaiming Remus' mouth.

They kiss for what feels like an eternity, and Sirius is fingering Remus' top shirt button before Remus finally pulls away, panting a little.

"I want … I mean, I don't want to get … too carried away," he manages to say.

Sirius grins, sharp. "Why not?" He tries to lean in again, but is stopped by a hand to his chest.

"I want you, more than anything," Remus admits. "But this is new and different for us and I just think … we shouldn't rush."

"I've been waiting twenty years for this," Sirius groans. "That could hardly be considered rushing."

Remus smiles. "I've waited a long time, too, Sirius. But," he adds, "I've only had you back for a little while. I would hate for us to jeopardize our friendship by rushing into bed too quickly. It would kill me."

Sirius sighs, but he knows Remus is probably right. "You win - on one condition," he says.

"Which is?"

"You kiss me again."

Remus' smile grows until it's the brightest thing in the room – maybe in the universe. "With pleasure."

And as their lips come together, as Sirius loses himself in the feel and taste of Remus Lupin, he can think of only one thing:

He is, at last, complete.