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It had been years since Remus had regularly shared his life with another person like this but he falls back into the routine of it surprisingly quickly. He’d always been rather selfish, with no siblings or other relatives his age growing up and then burdened with such a dangerous secret while still so young. By the time he was in his mid-twenties, he was convinced that his time at Hogwarts and the few short years after were just an interlude from his natural state of solitude, how he would spend the rest of his life. And really, it was how he preferred it, with no one else to let him down or be disappointed by him.
That’s what he thought, anyway.
Remus knows that’s not true now. He realized it at once when he saw the ease with which he let Sirius back in to share his life, his house, his bed. Over the past weeks, he’s watched as Sirius has stretched out his best jumpers, read old album notes sprawled out on his living room floor, cared for his strawberry plant with a tenderness he’d never before seen Sirius possess, and he’s not sure now how he did this alone for so many years. Even now, with Sirius’s arm draped heavily across Remus’s chest while he snores against his neck, Remus can’t think of a life without this.
That’s a fucking terrifying thought to have, especially now, on the brink of a second war that already looks more destructive than the last. But Remus has long lived in the moment, the past too painful and the future too uncertain to look towards. He’s grown used to taking everything one day at a time, frankly he’s certain he’d be dead if he didn’t. So Remus does what he always does and shakes the thoughts of fear and worry from his head as he slides out from under the weight of Sirius’s arm and out of the bed.
He wriggles into some jeans and a t-shirt, the neck of which now droops open a bit since his wardrobe has also become Sirius’s, and passes through the house and into the back garden, careful not to let the door slam behind him. There’s a cat lounging by the sunflowers, one of the many that roam around the hillside. It’s a scraggly looking thing, matted brown fur and a clipped ear, but it chirps at Remus and rubs against him as he sits in the grass and surveys what’s grown here.
This cottage had been a dilapidated mess when he moved in, just over 4 years ago. It had been his grandmother’s, the only member of his father’s family that he gave a shit about, and she left it to him when she died. He spent that spring tidying it up, making it livable again, in a style that his grandmother’s friend down the road had declared “eclectic” after a long pause when she visited. She’s still alive, Mrs. Davies is, though old enough now that her visits are few and far between. He’s called this place home since he was 31, except for the 9 months spent at Hogwarts. It’s the longest he’s stayed in one place in nearly two decades. The thought almost makes him sad.
Remus sighs and lies back in the grass, pulling a courgette off the vine to inspect while the cat curls up against him. He’d tried to pick them a couple days ago but Sirius had slapped his hand away, insisting they weren’t ready yet. Remus isn’t sure what Sirius had based that on and doubts he had any sound reasoning but listened to him nonetheless. It’s been sunnier than usual lately, warmer as well, and he’s content to rest like that for a while, eyes closed and spread out with the hot sun beating down on him.
“You got out of bed to go take a nap in vegetables instead?”
Remus squints up against the sun and sees Sirius push the door open gently with his foot, a cup of coffee in each hand. Remus just hums a little at him, pushing himself back up onto his elbows as Sirius sits down next him. Remus blinks the sun away from his vision and smiles at him. He should be used to seeing Sirius in his clothes but it still makes him grin every time. He’s always cold, no matter the temperature, and he’s wearing a thick woolen jumper, socks pulled up to his calves, and, surprisingly, a pair of short jean cutoffs. He looks soft, almost domestic, Remus thinks, as he watches Sirius run a hand through his hair and push it back behind his ears. Those aren’t words he’s used to describe Sirius Black in a long time but they’re the only ones that come to mind right now.
“The vegetables won’t steal my pillow and drool on my chest.” He takes a cup of coffee from Sirius and nudges him with his bare foot. “Well, Juniper might,” Remus looks down at the cat making itself comfortable now in his lap, “but how could I tell him no?”
“You’ve named him Juniper?” Sirius scritches under the cat’s chin and murmurs a little at it while it stretches its neck out and starts to purr.
Remus, taking a sip of his coffee, nods. “That’s his name, yes.”
Sirius shakes his head but his eyes are crinkled at the corners, soft, when he looks at Remus. He snatches the courgette out of Remus’s hand and looks at it closely. “Told you these weren’t ready yet,” he mutters.
“So,” Sirius clears his throat and sits up straight. He pauses for long enough for Remus to start to worry a bit for what’s coming before he speaks again. “I thought we could play a game.”
A game, Remus thinks with relief. It was difficult when Sirius first came to stay with Remus. He’d always been a touch erratic, quick to anger, to turn in on himself, to snap. Remus felt like he had to tip-toe around him weeks ago which, admittedly, had not actually helped the situation. He’s better now, for the most part. It’s remarkable how much regular access to food and a comfortable place to sleep will do to a person, Remus learned that first-hand himself. But he’s still never sure with Sirius how the day will go. He reckons it’ll always be that way. He nods at Sirius now and hums around another sip of coffee.
“Twenty Questions. I’ll start. Have you had any pets in the last…” Sirius waves a hand a bit to encompass the unspoken 14 years between 1981 and now.
“That’s not how Twenty Questions works.”
Sirius just shrugs at him, smiling. “It’s how I want to play.”
“What, where you just ask me twenty questions?”
Sirius just nods at him and Remus laughs. “I mean, you’re welcome to ask them back. I just doubt I’ll have nearly as many interesting answers.” He settles on his stomach, feet in the air, and strokes a hand across Juniper’s fur. “A weird little lizard spent some time in my cell for a bit. Closest thing I’d say I’ve had to a pet ever.”
It’s the most nonchalant Sirius has sounded talking about Azkaban, Remus notes. He has lots of questions for Sirius about their time spent apart but he knows voicing them would bring about more harm than good. Instead he shifts the cat around a little, who glares at him in return, so that he can lie back next to Sirius.
“Alright then. I’ve had a few. Most of them are just wanderers like Juniper. Show up for some food and pats and make their way.” Sirius rolls over to look at him. “I did move into one apartment that seemed to be home already to a niffler. Wonky little thing though, it’s pouch couldn’t hold anything so it was just like a tiny odd beaver.”
“Favorite color?”
“Hmm, teal.”
“Least favorite song?”
“Anything from Public Image Ltd. Lydon should have stopped in ‘77.”
“There’s a picture of you from some years ago with a mustache, did you think that was a good look or did you just want to look like an absolute fucking prick?”
Remus can hardly let him get through that question without laughing and loses it even more when Sirius takes the picture out of his pocket and shoves it under his nose. It’s a grainy polaroid from a Christmas party years ago at one of his few office jobs.
“I mean look at you, what a little nerd! Surprised you didn’t wear a bow-tie!” He’s half on top of Remus now, his own voice shaking with suppressed laughter. Remus wants to shoot back with an insult of his own but he can’t between how hard he’s laughing and the look of pure glee in Sirius’s eyes. Juniper leapt off him before and now stares at the two of them in utter confusion.
“I can’t grow a beard,” Remus manages when he can talk again. “I thought it was so fucking unfair that I can turn into a werewolf once a month, covered in fur, and all the testosterone in the world couldn’t give me anything more than a mustache!”
“You look like someone’s creepy uncle,” Sirius says, still staring at the picture barely an inch from his nose. “I can’t fucking believe I missed this, you have to do it again.”
Remus makes a grab for the photograph but Sirius moves to straddle him and holds it high above his head with another hand on his chest to press him down into the ground. Remus pokes his fingers in between Sirius’s ribs in retaliation and sends him squirming off him. Soon they’re wrapped around each other, laughing and sprawled out, cups of coffee long forgotten and tipped over into the grass.
“Alright, come on. You’ve got sixteen more questions. Hell, I’ll even give you another five if we can forget about that photo.”
“Oh screw the questions, I want this in a locket.” Remus distracts him with a kiss before reaching for the picture again. He reckons life with someone else to worry about is worth it for moments like this.