Work Text:
Remus looked at himself in the mirror, a frown settling on his lips. He traced the scars on his face, some more noticeable than others but all of them are still present. Sirius liked to call them battle wounds to make him feel better. They’d lay together at night, all arms and legs, and Sirius would trace the scars on his face and body and tell Remus how much he loved him. How the scars didn’t bother him. He’d say it made Remus rugged and sexy. Or that it just showed how much he survived. Or that they didn’t define him, his lycanthropy didn’t define him. Whatever he needed to hear most. But Sirius wasn’t there. He was at quidditch practice and that left Remus alone in the room to look at his scarred face.
He looked so over it. So done. His eyes were lidded as if he hadn’t slept in days and they didn’t shine like they did when he was younger. Before he let it bother him. His skin seemed less youthful and more marred. Worry lines had already been embossed onto his skin, thin wrinkles has already started to form. Heavy bags had formed under his eyes and he couldn’t help but think; if that’s what he looked like now, how would he look when he was older. When age would start to play a part too.
The scars weren’t even the worst part. Remus looked so tired. Sirius would say it was because of the next full moon coming up. But Remus couldn’t help but think he always looked like that. Tired. Dull. As of the lycanthropy was sucking out his life. Or maybe it was the stress from it, the shifting and the symptoms and the soreness and the hiding it and the general cloud hanging over his head because he will never be normal.
He was so lost in his self hatred that he didn’t notice Sirius walk in; sweating and smiling and shirtless. Sirius stopped at the doorway, one foot into the dorm and one foot out- the smile slowly fading from his lips and being replaced with a frown. Remus was so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t notice Sirius walk towards him until Sirius was right in front of him and plucked the mirror out of his hands.
“Hey-“
“What are you doing?”
Remus tried to keep eye contact with Sirius, but the glare he received made him turn his head down and gain a sudden interest in a loose thread on his jumper.
“I was just looking in the mirror it’s hardly a crime,” Remus began, cringing inwardly as his voice shook a little.
“Bullshit.” Sirius cut him off, his happy post-quidditch high wearing off and replaced with anger. Sirius loved Remus. He loved him so much it drove him mad. And the fact that the man he loved didn’t love himself made his blood boil.
“Sirius, just give it back-“ Remus tried to reach over to grab it but Sirius walk held it out of reach. Remus definitely had a few inches on Sirius but Sirius was stronger and you could thank quidditch for that. Remus probably could have put up more of a fight if he wasn’t so tired.
“Not a chance, moony. Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” Remus tried again to swipe the mirror from Sirius’ hand but it didn’t work and he ended up sitting on the bed in defeat; his head in his hands and shoulders slumped. Feeling a twinge of regret, Sirius sighed and moved to sit next to him. He pulled Remus into his chest and moved backwards on the bed so they were laid down. Remus hid his face in the crook of Sirius’ neck and took some deep breaths to calm himself down. Sirius had an arm draped over Remus’ waist and rubbed soothing circles on his back.
Once Remus’ breaths were less frantic, Sirius broke the silence.
“What happened Re,” Sirius’ words were soft, not wanting to set his boyfriend off again. He continues to run circles on his back. Remus was silent for a few seconds before he replied.
“Why do you want to be with me?” He asked. He tried, he really did, to keep the desperation out of his voice but it didn’t really work. He felt pathetic. He was pathetic.
“Where has this come from?” Sirius asked but a few silent seconds later he realised he wasn’t going to get an answer.
“Well, because you’re you. Because I love you.”
Remus moved his face away from Sirius’ neck and turned over so his back was facing him. That answer was a cop out and he only said it to keep Remus happy. Why would someone like Sirius love someone like him. He was a monster. He wasn’t normal. But Sirius wasn’t having it. He rolled Remus over and moved to straddle him.
“I know what you’re thinking, moony. Some self deprecating bullshit about you being a monster and unworthy of love but that’s not true because I love you a lot.
I love you because you’re smart, so smart, you make me look stupid. And you’re kind. And you’re always warm and I’m always cold. And you’re tall and you always smell nice, like chocolate and books and I hate books but I’ve grown to like them because of you. And I love you because you’re you. I wouldn’t want you any other way. I’ve told you time and time before I don’t care about the lycanthropy. I care about you.”
Remus looked to the side, not wanting to make eye contact with him, but Sirius grabbed his face and wouldn’t let him look away. He wanted him to see that he meant it. That he meant every word.
“Sirius.” The word sounded broken on his tongue. “Why me? Can’t you see my face! It’s scarred. And it’ll only get worse! In 10 years you’ll look- look like how you look now. And people will look at me and wonder why you’re with me when you could do so much better!”
“Scars don’t bother me Remus!” Sirius moved off of him to stand by the bed. In case you’re forgetting, I have my fair share too!” And he turned around to present his bare back; scars in uniformed lines from old welts lining it from when his parents wanted to teach him some discipline.
“But what about 10 years time when I’ve aged by 30. Huh? When I have wrinkles and bags and my bones have gone to shit? In case you don’t remember the average life expectancy for a lycanthrope isn’t very long!”
“Merlin Remus, get it through your thick skull that I don’t bloody care! You’re always going to be you and everything else we can deal with later! Stressing won’t help. The fact of the matter is that I am so in love with you nothing else matters! There’s a war coming. I might die before you-“
“Sirius, don’t say that-“
“It’s true, moony. I’m a blood traitor. And you’re a werewolf. The chances of either of us surviving isn’t very high! So the last thing you should be worrying about is some bloody wrinkles!”
They’ve ended up standing almost nose to nose, heaving chests touching with every big gulp of air they take in.
“I’m sorry.” Remus muttered, almost begrudgingly. But he didn’t want to go to bed angry with Sirius. And Sirius was right. A war was coming and they had bigger things to worry about.
“It’s okay,” Sirius somehow moved even closer, closing the last of the space between them, his lips brushing over Remus’.
“I’m sorry too. Just next time talk to me, yeah. It’s you and me, moony. Always.”
“Always.”