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It was the last job of the day, which was good, because he was so tired it was becoming genuinely worrying. He manoeuvred his light blue ’72 Toyota Corolla between two fancier cars parked at the side of the pavement in front of a surprisingly nice apartment building near to Camden, stepped out and supressed a yawn. He hadn’t got much sleep last night due to one three-year-old being very convinced that there was a monster under his bed. He had told Teddy that no, there was no monster, and yes, he was sure, and yes, he was sure that he was sure, because he was a professional.
Teddy hadn’t been convinced.
Remus walked up to the building. Ten minutes, and he would be on his way home. Fifteen, if the monster was a difficult one. Half an hour, if the client was.
He found the right door and pressed the doorbell.
The door flung open.
“Hello,” said the client, already backing away from Remus, as if he expected Remus just to follow. “It’s under the bed.”
“Right,” Remus said and stepped into the apartment. He had been at this job for far too long and had seen all kinds of clients. Having a monster under the bed generally didn’t bring out the best in people. But this client seemed like he hardly cared about the monster, or about Remus, actually. He walked Remus to what apparently was the bedroom, although it was bigger than Remus’ living room and kitchen together, then turned on his heels and disappeared. Maybe he was busy. Or rude. Or both.
Remus knelt on the floor next to the bed and started negotiations with the monster. It didn’t seem too unreasonable. Mainly, it was just tired, but then again, who wasn’t? Remus for example -
He heard hesitant steps coming to the bedroom door and glanced over his shoulder. The client was standing in the doorway, watching Remus intently. Remus blinked. The client was perhaps slightly younger than him, thirty-five or something, or perhaps just had both better sleeping habits and genes. His hair was so dark it was probably black and it was tied into a messy knot, he had black jeans and a black shirt that fit him perfectly, and his face was…
Well.
Well.
“Who did you say you were?” the client asked, crossing his arms over his chest, but not unkindly. A few minutes ago he had barely looked at Remus – well, he probably hadn’t looked at Remus. But now he was looking. And he seemed curious.
“Remus Lupin,” Remus said. “I’m here for the monster.”
“Yeah, I know,” the client said with a dismissing wave. “I meant… Remus Lupin. Alright. Nice to meet you, Remus Lupin.”
“Yeah,” Remus said stupidly and bit his lip. Goddamn. He was good with monsters, not people. “Nice to meet you. Your monster seems… not very angry.”
“Oh, no, he’s been terrible,” the client said. “He’s kept me up since Friday. Cries a lot, you know, and in the most inconvenient times. Just when I’m about to fall asleep.”
Remus cleared his throat. He, too, had sometimes found himself crying very late in the evening, when Teddy was asleep and the flat was quiet and he was alone in bed, thinking about his life. But that had been a while ago. Things were better these days. Maybe.
Anyway, he kind of understood the monster.
“It’s probably lonely,” he told the client.
“Well, I get that,” the client said. “But I need it to stop. Or cry somewhere else. I’m terribly sorry. Do you think it’ll be hard?”
Remus opened his mouth and closed it again. He was fairly sure that if the client just stopped talking to him and let him do his work, he would finish in ten minutes. Maybe less. He had a feeling that the monster liked him. They often did, which was one of the reasons why he was good for the job. Another was that he really needed the money.
“Maybe,” he told the client. “They’re sometimes very stubborn. Once, it took me the whole day to remove a monster who had grown very attached to the bed.”
“Fine,” the client said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll make us tea.” And he went away and came back a few minutes later. By then Remus had managed to convince the monster to move somewhere else, but it seemed impolite not to have tea with the client now that the client was offering. A small part of his brain reminded him that he never had tea with clients. Another small part of his brain reminded him that he was tired and eager to get home. He ignored both.
The client dragged a coffee table to the bedroom, put two cups of tea on it and sat down on the floor.
“So, how long have you been doing this?” the client asked.
Remus blinked. “What?”
“This,” the client said, waving his hand at the bed. “Removing monsters.”
“Oh. For a while.”
“For a while?”
“Three years.”
“It’s probably exciting,” the client said, watching him intently.
“No, it’s not,” he said slowly. He was too tired to make up convenient lies. And the tea was very nice. And he couldn’t remember when another adult had last looked him in the eyes.
The client laughed, sounding surprised. His laughter was rough around the edges.
Remus shifted on the floor. He needed to leave. But he didn’t want to. But he needed to. He had a kid to pick up, and also in any second now, he was going to start thinking about things he really didn’t want to think about.
Also, the monster was eyeing him from under the bed as though it couldn’t believe they were still there.
“Actually,” he said, putting the cup of tea down, “I’m almost finished. The monster has agreed to leave.”
“Oh?” the client said. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
The client didn’t look glad. Remus wasn’t glad, either, but he was a professional, so he stood up, thanked the client from the tea and had a short and successful negotiation with the monster.
“Thank you,” the client said, when Remus was already at the door, ready to leave. And then the client took Remus’ hand and squeezed it. Remus breathed in. And out. And wondered if he was turning red. And then, thank god, the client let go of his hand.
“Goodbye,” he said and escaped.
**
The client called Remus the next day.
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry, “but I think the monster is back. Or there’s a new one. I’m sure you’re fully booked but is there any chance you could come today?”
Late in the afternoon, Remus rang the doorbell at the client’s door. He hadn’t got much sleep last night because he had been staring at the ceiling and trying to remember when the last time was that he had been with someone.
“This is probably very inconvenient for you,” the client said as he let Remus into the apartment. He didn’t sound worried. Also, he looked different somehow. Maybe that was because he was dressed as if he was going to a very fancy restaurant.
Remus bit his lip. The client probably was going to a very fancy restaurant. He just needed Remus to remove his monster so that he could leave. Maybe someone was waiting for him already.
“I’ll make us tea,” the client said and disappeared into what probably was the kitchen before Remus could say anything, so Remus took himself to the bedroom and knelt to see under the bed.
There was no monster.
“There’s no monster,” he told the client, who came back with two cups of tea.
“Oh?” The client sounded disappointed. “Well, it must’ve found its own way out. I guess we can go to the kitchen then.”
“…sorry?”
“For the tea.”
Remus stared at the client. Certainly the man wasn’t suggesting that Remus stayed just for tea? But the man was looking at him as if it was obvious that Remus was staying and he was just waiting for Remus to come to the kitchen.
Remus went to the kitchen. Tea was nice. And the client didn’t seem to expect Remus to participate in the conversation too much. He asked what Remus thought about the weather (‘it’s fine’, Remus said – it had been raining for two weeks) and then proceeded to talking about his favourite restaurants and cafés and dance clubs. And when there was a long pause and Remus said he rarely went to dance clubs anymore (he didn’t say he never had), the client started talking about his favourite zoos and art museums and libraries. At that point Remus had already finished his tea and had also relaxed a little (even though that certainly hadn’t been his intention), so he got a bit carried away talking about his favourite libraries. The client seemed to listen carefully, nodding and leaning towards him, and then he remembered that he was on a job and there was no monster and he was supposed to leave.
He apologised profusely and rushed to the door. The client seemed a bit irritated. Probably he had only now realised for how long Remus had stayed in his apartment with no reason.
Remus drove to Andromeda’s house, told Teddy that no, they wouldn’t stop at McDonald’s on their way home, stopped at McDonalds with Teddy on their way home, had a strawberry milkshake too big and too sugary, and spent the rest of the evening wondering if the odd feeling in his guts was loneliness or digestion.
**
“Hello,” the client said over the phone.
“Hello,” Remus said. He probably shouldn’t have recognised the client by the voice. And he probably shouldn’t have been so glad to hear the said voice.
“It’s me,” the client said. “You’re probably wondering why I’m calling you again, but the thing is, there’s a monster under my bed, and this time I’m sure of it.”
Remus couldn’t think about any reason why the client would lie to him. “I’ll be there half past four,” he said.
Twenty past four, he sat in his car, looking at the building and at the window he suspected was the client’s. Twenty-seven past four, he climbed out of the car and took the lift to the top floor. He didn’t have time to ring the doorbell before the client already opened the door. He was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. Also, he had glasses.
“Come in,” the client said, which was unnecessary, because Remus had already stepped in and was now heading to the bedroom. The client followed him and knelt beside him to look under the bed. “See?” the client said, pointing at the monster lurking there. “A monster.”
“Indeed,” Remus said. He could smell the client’s aftershave. It wasn’t unpleasant.
The monster seemed very confused about where it was and what it was doing there. It took Remus less than three minutes to deal with the monster, and he did everything he could to take as much time as possible. Also, he did everything he could to not wonder why he was doing that.
Remus was about to tell the client he was ready, when the client said he had opened a bottle of wine recently and could he possibly bother Remus to stay for a moment and help him with the wine. Remus followed him to the kitchen. The client poured him wine from a full bottle. The wine was good, and also Remus almost never had wine and certainly didn’t know anything about it.
“Have you read anything good recently?” the client asked. He had taken his glasses of a while ago and had seemingly forgotten about them.
Remus swallowed. “Not really.”
“Oh?”
“I haven’t really read anything. It’s not that I don’t like books -,” he added hastily, “- because I do. I like books. If I could, I’d probably do nothing except read books. But I can’t.”
“Why?” the client asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“Well.” There was Teddy. And the job. And all the cooking and cleaning that a single parent with a three-year-old had to somehow manage to get done. “I don’t have time,” Remus said.
“Why?”
“Because…” But he didn’t know what to say. “Have you read anything good recently?”
“Not really,” the client said. “I don’t really read.”
“Oh,” Remus said and then bit his lip. He hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed.
“I can read,” the client said quickly. “I just usually don’t. It’s not that I have anything against books. Or people who read. I think they’re nice. Kind of clever. Sometimes a bit nerdy but in a good way. I like their clothes. Cardigans, especially.”
“Okay,” Remus said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. He was wearing a cardigan, but then again, he always wore a cardigan.
“Green suits you,” the client said and then frowned. “I’m sorry. Was that too forward?”
“No,” Remus said and sipped of his wine, “no, no, it wasn’t… no. I just…” But he had absolutely no idea what to say.
Luckily, the client smiled at him and then started talking about his own hobbies. It turned out the client had a motorcycle. Coincidentally, Remus was afraid of motorcycles, but he had also once cut a picture of a motorcycle out of a certain magazine. In addition to the motorcycle, there had been a man in the picture, and the man had had dark messy hair and long limbs and a shadow of a stubble and sharp narrow eyes.
Remus listened while the client told him about the motorcycle and then about football and then about a mildly haunted family house, and then the client brushed his fingers against Remus’ wrist and Remus realised he was a little drunk.
“I need to go,” he said and stood up as quickly as he could.
“Oh,” the client said, standing up with him. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Yeah,” Remus said and shook his head. Shit. This was bad. He was lingering in the client’s apartment, he was drunk and he couldn’t stop thinking about motorcycles. “No. No, I mean… yeah. Sorry.”
“Are you sure you need to go?” the client asked. He was standing quite close to Remus. He probably didn’t even notice it himself, but Remus noticed, because bloody hell he was lonely.
Also, he remembered now why he rarely had alcohol.
“Because I don’t have any rush,” the client said. “I’m not going anywhere tonight. I wouldn’t mind if you stayed.”
“No,” Remus said, trying to remember why he had to leave, except that he was bothering his client. Then he remembered. “Teddy.”
The expression on the client’s face shifted. “Teddy?”
“Yeah,” Remus said. “Teddy’s waiting for me.”
“Your boyfriend?” the client asked. His voice was different now, too polite, almost as if he was trying to look like the thought didn’t bother him.
Remus felt incredibly stupid. He had let himself think about the client and motorcycles, and now it turned out the client was homophobic.
“No,” Remus said, “my son. Sorry I stayed so long. And drunk your wine. And sorry about… sorry.”
And then he opened the door and pushed through it before the client could say anything. At the street he remembered he was drunk. He took a bus to Andromeda’s place and it took ages, and when he was there, Andromeda had one sharp glance at him and told him to have some water, a cup of coffee and a nap. He obeyed. It fixed the intoxication but not the loneliness.
**
“I really don’t know how this happened again,” the client said over the phone, “but there’s a monster under my bed. Is there any chance that you could come and help me with it?”
There was, indeed, a monster under the client’s bed. It was the same monster than the day before, and it didn’t look happy.
“Now that you’re here,” the client said, before Remus had time to start doing his job, “can you come to the kitchen for a moment? I have pizza.”
“That’s not necessary,” Remus said. He was trying not to look at the client, but it was very difficult.
“No,” the client said, “but I wanted to. Please? I’d like to apologise for yesterday.”
Remus cleared his throat. And glanced at the client. And looked away. The client was wearing the same kind of clothes than the first day: black jeans and a black t-shirt. He looked so good in them that it should have been illegal, because there was no way Remus could do his job with those jeans hanging out in the background.
“I must insist,” the client said, and Remus followed him to the kitchen. He didn’t have much to do anyway, because the monster seemed quite ready to leave and never come back.
The pizza was good, even if Remus had trouble swallowing, but the client wanted to hear about Teddy.
“So, you have a son,” he said, watching Remus intently.
“Yeah,” Remus said, his eyes on the pizza. “Teddy.”
“How old’s he?”
“…three.”
The client nodded and then frowned. “I’ve got no idea what children are like when they’re three.”
“Well,” Remus said, “Teddy’s… talkative.”
“I don’t actually know anything about children,” the client said and then cleared his throat. In a very charming way. “Not that I don’t like children. I mean, I don’t dislike them. I don’t know any, so I wouldn’t know. But I’m sure your child is nice.”
Remus nodded. He wasn’t sure if nice was the first adjective he’d use to describe Teddy. Last night, Teddy had woken him up to ask him how big space was.
“Does he have a…” the client paused, rubbed the side of his nose, and sighed. “A mother?”
Remus blinked. The client blinked as well. “A mother?”
The client swallowed visibly. “…yes?”
“Well,” Remus said slowly, “yeah.”
Something shifted on the client’s face. He almost looked disappointed, which didn’t make sense at all.
“Tonks,” Remus clarified. “Nymphadora, but we call her Tonks.”
The client was frowning fiercely. For some reason that didn’t make him any less attractive. Remus should probably eat his pizza as quickly as he could, grab the monster and escape together, or else he would end up saying something totally inappropriate. “And do you -,” the client began, waving his hand in a vague gesture, “do you and her, I mean… do you and Tonks, are you… what kind of… what do you do?”
“Do?” Remus repeated.
The client was getting red in the face. Remus hoped it wasn’t an allergic reaction. “I mean,” the client said, “are you…” and he lowered his voice, “together?”
Oh. “Oh,” Remus said, sounding more shocked than he meant to.
“Oh,” the client said, raising his both hands in the air, “I didn’t mean to be so curious, I just –“
“No, no, it’s alright,” Remus said quickly. “I just… got surprised.”
The client looked relieved. “Okay.” He took another bite of the pizza and spent some time chewing on it, and when he had swallowed, he fixed his eyes on Remus again. “But… are you?”
“…am I what?”
“No,” the client said, “you and her. Are you… well, you know. A thing.”
Oh. “Oh. No. No, we aren’t.”
“No?”
“No,” Remus said firmly. Good lord, his heart was beating. If this was what he thought it was, he was probably going to pass out. And if it wasn’t, he was going to… well, he was going to be very embarrassed, and disappointed, and lonely.
“Really?” the client asked. “Good. But you have a child together.”
“Oh, that,” Remus said. He sounded light-headed. Coincidentally, he also felt light-headed. “No. Absolutely not.”
The client looked confused.
“I mean, he’s our kid,” Remus said. “We made him. So, yeah, we were kind of seeing each other back at the time. And having sex. But not so much. We only had a little sex. Like, maybe for half a year. Or a year. Or one and a half years. Two, maybe, but at that point we had almost broken up. And we had Teddy.”
The client was staring at him. He realised vaguely that he had stopped eating his pizza a while ago.
“But we aren’t together anymore,” he added.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Although sometimes it happened that he felt tired and lonely and like he had failed his life and didn’t have the energy to imagine any of that would ever change, and then he wondered if perhaps they ought to have stayed together. He had known the relationship was a mistake – he didn’t love her the way she wanted him to love her, and she probably didn’t love him the way she wanted to love him. But she had been nice, and familiar. She had held his hand.
And wasn’t it kind of crazy to hope that you could have everything – that you could have somebody who actually lovedyou, and whom you loved, and who wasn’t going to leave you as soon as you left your guard down, and who was also prepared to get to know your three-year-old kid who wanted to know everything about everything at the worst possible moment?
He wanted that.
And he would probably never have that. Some people did. But not him. He wasn’t the kind of a person who gets his happy ending, he was pretty sure of that, and what he wasn’t sure of was why he still hadn’t stopped trying.
The client brushed Remus’ ankle with his foot, under the table.
“My name is Sirius Black,” the client said.
“Yeah,” Remus said, or tried to say. He was suddenly having trouble breathing. “Yeah, I know.”
“Maybe we could go for a movie. Or dinner. Or both. Maybe tonight. Or some other night. How about tomorrow?”
Remus swallowed. “I… yeah.”
“Yeah?”
Remus nodded.
“I’m asking you on a date,” the client said, his voice firmer now. Also, he had reached over the table to touch Remus’ wrist and was now pressing low circles against Remus’ pulse point. It was more intimate than anything anyone had done to him in years. Or possibly ever. “I mean, I want to make sure that you know it’s a date. So if you aren’t interested in… me, you can say no now.”
“No,” Remus said, “no, I know. I know it’s a date.”
The client smiled slowly. “You do?”
“Well, I hope it is,” Remus said. This was crazy. He was crazy. He felt like he could drown in hope that came as a sudden wave and rushed over him. “Actually, we could do it now. The date. Teddy is with his grandmother.”
“…really?”
“Yeah,” Remus said. “Andromeda has been a huge help.”
They got to the entrance hall before he remembered the monster.
“Oh, it’s my neighbour’s monster,” Sirius said with a dismissing wave. “I just borrowed it for today. I’ll text my neighbour and ask him to get it. He's got the spare key.”
“Oh,” Remus said. “Alright.”
**
A week later, Tonks came back from her holiday. She knocked on Remus’ door, asked him how he was and then asked what after Teddy said that Remus’ boyfriend had taken them to an amusement park.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Remus said quickly, “we’re just dating, and it’s new, and –“
“Finally,” Tonks said, sounding relieved. “I was getting worried that you’d never find a boyfriend.”
Remus bit his lip. He had been worried too. And he still was, so maybe it was a character trait after all.
**
On Monday, he had been working for fifteen minutes when the phone rang.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Sirius said, “but could you possibly come here? I think there’s a monster under my bed.”