Work Text:
The din of the pub was loud but no louder than normal. Lit by flickering firelight, the inside of the pub was a welcome warmth against the chill of the night lurking just beyond the doors. Around a large wooden table in the back corner was a rowdy group of students. The barkeep was turning a blind eye to the drinks they had shared amongst themselves, and the group were making the best of that. A girl with long fiery hair tied back in a loose ponytail was laughing freely at a boy with dishevelled black hair and crooked frames. Two girls—one tall and blonde with an effortless, cool look on her face, and the other shorter with dark skin and darker hair—were sitting close together, their heads mere inches apart and voices soft against the noisy backdrop.
One boy, with mousy brown hair and too many scars for his young age, had his head down and fingers deftly working at rolling something, a slight smile on his face (the barkeep was dutifully ignoring this too). Next to him was the loudest of the lot, his shoulder-length hair catching on one of the many zips of his leather jacket. He was grinning a private sort of grin at the brown-haired one, his cheeks dusted in a light pink and his eyes soft. He rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder for a moment, before standing and excusing himself to the outside of the building. (He rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder for just a moment too long, before standing and excusing himself to outside the building.)
The smoke wafting from Sirius’ cigarette was a stark white against the blue-black of the mid-October night. He took a drag, his back was pressed against the cold stone of Madam Rosmerta’s front wall. He tilted his head back, resting it against the wall as he exhaled the smoke. Eyes slipping closed, he tapped the ash off of the tip. He held the cigarette in his mouth, letting it rest there and passively inhaling the smoke rather than making much of an effort to breathe it in.
“Got a light?” A voice asked, softened slightly from the firewhiskey, not quite slurring but making its way there.
Sirius cracked an eye open to look at Remus. There was a spliff already placed between his chapped lips, rather than a cigarette like Sirius had in his own mouth, painting a stark juxtaposition from his brown corduroy trousers and old, soft grandpa jumper. Sirius hummed in agreement, turning his head toward Remus as he approached, and puffing smoke out of his lungs from around the cigarette.
Remus pressed his fingers gently to Sirius’ chin, tilting his head up as he, in turn, leant down to press his carefully rolled joint against the tip of Sirius’ already lit one. They held that position, in the still night outside of the pub, until the smouldering end of Sirius' fag managed to catch Remus’ joint. One stolen moment, just for them, in the midst of it all. Sirius took one more deep inhalation of nicotine and held it in his lungs for a long pause. He stubbed out the cigarette on the wall behind him, carelessly dropping the butt on the ground by his shoe.
Wordlessly, Remus offered him the joint.
He took it.
They passed it back and forth, revelling in the quiet hum and the thick smoke trailing around them. Their shoulders knocked together. Neither of them said a word as they inched closer and closer. The joint burned down to the filter, the taste growing bitter as it did. Remus dropped the roach on the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his Converse.
Sirius looked down at his own scuffed Chuck Taylors, the laces looped around his ankles before they were tied in lopsided bows, the inelegantly scrawled Sharpie lyrics from all the bands he loved on the rubber; Queen, The Sex Pistols, The Ramones.
Remus reached over and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. Sirius, with his chipped black nail polish and all the rings he could fit, and Remus, with his own rings, and his bitten down nails, the sleeve of his jumper bunched up around his wrist where it wanted to slide down but couldn’t get past the obstacle of their joined hands. Sirius squeezed his hand, silent. I’m here , he tried to say, though for what he wasn’t sure. I love you , he tried to say.
Remus squeezed back.
Sirius looked at Remus, catching his eye with a crooked smile. They leaned together slowly, foreheads knocking as they looked at each other.
“Alright, Moony?” Sirius whispered, daring not to speak louder as to not disturb this gentle understanding they had.
“Alright,” Remus whispered back, before slotting their lips together.
In the morning light, when the buzz and high had worn off and the group of them had snuck back to the castle, neither Sirius nor Remus would say a word, but they’d catch each other’s eye, and they would know.
They would steal another moment at another time again, and after, they would still know.