Archive of Our Own

“I wish it could just be simple, like a retro pop song. 
“I want you to want me”. BOOM. End of story. 
We all live happily ever after.”

— John Tucker Must Die, 2006

“I feel like we’ve gone full native.” 

“Speak for yourself. I’ve always been vegan.”

Peter looks up from the crate of sustainably sourced tomatoes he’d been examining, a deep frown creasing his brow. “You expect me to believe your chronically starving gob has always avoided cheese?”

“Cow milk is for baby cows,” Remus insists.

“By your logic, oat milk is for baby oats.” Peter puts down the tomato he’s holding to point to the pint of milk in Remus’ basket.

They’re at a farmer’s market somewhere in New York, and this is supposed to be their first date, but as is naturally the case with relationships that start out as friendships, you don’t just wake up one day in full boyfriend mode. Actually, Remus is pretty sure Peter isn’t even trying. He has a right mind to pick up some gluten-free croissants and head home to his guitar and his books.

“Rem, you want some of this gluten-free shit?” Peter asks without turning around, looking like he’s trying to work out how much he can actually carry home – which, Remus knows, is about all he'll be willing to contribute.

“So sweet of you. I’ll pick us up some matcha tea.” He pretends not to notice Peter turning, then, to glare at him in outrage.

He steps up to the outdoor Starbucks cart and feels around in his pocket for his wallet. There’s only one other person ahead of him — a man with broad shoulders and shaggy hair, which is honestly what’d made him decide that maybe Peter is datable after all. That is, before the total train wreck had decided to cut said hair so brutally short, it’s damn-near invisible.

Remus is looking at his phone when he hears a voice he’d recognise anywhere, anytime. It brings back an utter torrent of memories, from sandwich-swapping at lunch to sneaking into the gigs of local bands at bars they hadn’t been old enough to get into. And so much laughter, and hugs and bright summer afternoons in a bubble that seemed impenetrable, at the time. Until he’d ruined everything, of course. And now they're here, in New York, a million miles from home, and Remus tries to figure out whether or not this is a hallucination from their stint at the patchouli cart.

“Remus?” He still sounds the same as that last voice message, the only remnant of their life together. And now he’s peering into Remus’ eyes, his grey ones bright with surprise and his pretty mouth pursed just so.

Not the time, Remus.

“Sirius,” he breathes, his mouth going dry. Clearing his throat doesn’t help, so says something else, hoping it makes him look less like the mess he feels inside. “You changed your hair.”

Always quick with a smile, his lips pull into one now, as he reaches up to run a hand through his stylishly cut hair. When Remus had known him, he’d had a thick, long, tangled mass of pseudo-waves. Remus just wants to bury his fingers in that shiny softness.

“Didn’t want to look like the Grudge forever,” comes the response. But then Sirius is chuckling and pointing. “See you finally pierced your ears.”

“You too,” Remus responds, smiling as well, and pointing at Sirius’ single pierced ear. “Young Depp or goth DiCaprio?”

“Obviously Soft Grunge Grohl,” he frowns.

“Of course,” Remus shakes his head at himself. “How ignorant of me.”

“God, I’ll forgive you if you let me buy you a drink. Has it been six years?” The look Sirius gives him is so loaded, but Remus is honestly too busy fighting not to short-circuit from an overload of his own emotions to figure much beyond Sirius clearly having missed him, too. Which is enough to push him over the edge, all by itself.

But before Remus can open his mouth to utter so much as a confirmation, a red-haired girl with adorable freckles walks up to Sirius.

“Siri, sorry to interrupt, but if we don’t leave now, we’ll miss our reservation.” She gives Remus a small smile.

“Right,” Sirius says, looking like he just woke up from a very pleasant dream. “Be right there.”

To Remus, it feels like a nightmare he’s being plunged back into. The bane of his existence, and the real reason it’s been six years. Because Sirius Black is straight – and Remus is undeniably, hopelessly in love with him.

When she leaves, Sirius’ gaze finds his again, eyebrows raising questioningly.

“Oh, right. Drinks. Um, sure,” Remus says, sounding listless even to himself. “I mean, that’d be great. Catching up would be lovely.”

But Sirius is laughing. “Some things never change. We’ll make plan.” 

“Remus! I can’t carry all these croissants by myself, you cheapskate!”

Looking over his shoulder, Remus resists the urge to clap himself on the forehead, because, honestly, what had he thought was going to happen?

“Then, why did you empty the fucking cart?” he shakes his head at Peter, turning back to Sirius with a half-apologetic, half-amused smile. “Plans sound great. Please, excuse me while I go save moron over there from death by French pastry.”

“See you soon, hopefully,” Sirius says. “Wait! Um… Is your number still…?” 

“Yeah! Yeah. Same. I promise to respond this time. Definitely see you soon!”

Inching towards Peter, his eyes stretch wide when the dunce almost drops an over-full bag of croissants on the ground. Remus grabs it in the nick of time, almost taking a nose-dive himself. He could murder Peter sometimes.

“So, is anyone planning on paying for those?” the girl behind the cart asks.

Peter smiles at Remus, turns on his heel and heads back the way they’d come. Remus swears under his breath the entire time he pays the girl, landing a smack to the back of Peter’s head when he catches back up.

“Oi!” Peter glares at him. “Wait, were you so busy chatting up some bloke that you forgot our matcha tea?”

Remus speeds up, leaving him to find his own way out of the market.

"You once said that you liked me, 
just as I am, and I wanted to say,
likewise."

– Bridget Jones' Diary, 2001

"Yo, you good, man? You've been pacing out here for the last fifteen minutes."

Remus' eyes snap up to the concerned barman hanging out the door, following his motions like a slow tennis match.

"Do I come into your bar and question your pacing? No. No, I don’t. Now, go pour cosmos or give sage advice or… whatever it is that earns you tips…"

With a shake of his head, the barman retreats, leaving Remus to pull out his own hair in inner turmoil. He has no idea why he came, because he knows there's no way tonight can end well. Either he has the meltdown in front of Sirius that he'd had in his bedroom at his parents' house when he was eighteen, or he sticks it out and goes and has his meltdown at his place. Either way, this is a bad idea. It doesn't help that Peter is practically endorsing this.

"So, that was Sirius? ‘Vampire Lestat’ minus the fangs himself? He's way sexier than I imagined," Peter assessed, sitting cross-legged on Remus' couch and dipping his honey croissant into his tea.

"He's sexier than I remember," Remus admitted, staring miserably at the carpet. But then a fever gripped him and he'd looked up at Peter determinedly. "I should just forget about him, yeah? I mean, you and I are sort of trying things now, aren't we? It's not like anything can happen between me and Siri, anyway."

Stuffing the soggy tip of the croissant into his mouth, Peter gave Remus a look over the top of his tea mug.

"Oh, shut up," Remus said. "He's straight, Peter. Don't you think if there'd ever been a single clue otherwise, I would've said something?"

Peter gave him another look as he'd chewed and Remus fought the urge to chuck a throw pillow at him.

"You're an idiot, Lupin, and you're going to meet up with him, even if I have to type the text myself."

Remus' head dropped into his hands. "I'm doomed."

"No, you're dramatic, and since you subject me to it almost daily, I'm using this to live vicariously through you. Now, do I have to reply for you, or are you gonna nut up for once?" Peter held out his hand, downing his tea.

Grabbing his phone up from between them, Remus clutched it protectively to his chest, glaring Peter's hand down. That'd morphed into an urge to throw it at Peter's head a second later, when the arsehole had smirked to himself, self-satisfied.

Remus poured over a text to reply to Sirius' light, unassuming one, spending nearly half an hour on it. He'd eventually gotten so frustrated with himself that he'd switched off his keypad tones.

“‘Sirius’ is a star, innit?” Peter mused, later that afternoon. He picked up his phone and Googled it. “Yeah, a star. And, well, ‘Lupin’ is ‘wolf’. So, if you two celebs get together, the tabloids could call you ‘Wolfstar’.” 

“You’re a sick sadist.”

But this is what Remus takes with him as he finally steps inside, scanning the crowd for Sirius. ‘Wolfstar’, and how secretly warm it makes him feel. As much as he hates Peter sometimes, he loves him, too.

“Rem!” Sirius waves him over from the bar and Remus sidles up to the counter.

They hug and Remus notes how he still smells the same: like darkness and nighttime, smoke and petrol. And his warm arms around Remus still feel the same, still make Remus feel the same — safe and loved and protected. God, tonight is going to hell already.

“You still use the same shampoo,” Sirius notes when Remus takes a seat next to him.

Remus’ head swivels around at his words, eyes bugging out a little – only to find Sirius scrunching his face adorably in embarrassment, his ears burning red.

"Way to sound like a total stalker, Siri," he berates himself and Remus just wants to hug him again.

"It might interest you to know that you're right. I do still use the Spider-Man-themed shampoo I used back in school, but only because it smells like strawberry milkshake and makes my hair extra soft," Remus tries not to look too amused.

"No shit! Wait, you said you only used that because it was all your mum would buy." Sirius narrows his eyes at him.

"Well, clearly Mum was onto something."

Sirius shoves his shoulder. "You're still a prat."

"And you're still as pretentious as ever. The question isn't, I think, how we are still alike, but how we both came to be in New York," Remus dramatises, stealing Sirius’ beer to take a sip.

Sirius nods at Remus’ logic, fidgeting with the neck of his skintight black t-shirt. Remus sees the hint of a red choker peeking out, but he also notices how Sirius' nails are painted black and how inked his arms are now. Remus spots the moon phases he and Sirius used to discuss at length for tattoos back in the day. It makes him feel even warmer that Sirius had ended up getting them.

"Well, we did always say New York, didn’t we?" Sirius reminds him, watching Remus watch him. 

Remus clears his throat. "Yeah. We did."

"Honestly, I've been hoping I'd run into you here. You vanished into thin air back home…"

"Yeah, um… Got an editing job out here. Didn't really know how to say goodbye, so I just…"

"Didn't?" Sirius supplies, draining the rest of his beer before raising a hand to grab the barman's attention.

"Yeah. Sorry, mate."

Sirius orders for them both. Turning to him as they wait, he says, "To tell you the truth, I probably wouldn't have known how to say goodbye to you, either. I'm just happy we found each other again."

Remus does hug him again, then. Not awkward and gentle like before – a full-on bear hug, like they used to hold each other when they were children. Sirius takes point and ends up with his fingers in Remus' hair and Remus' face in his neck.

Conversation comes much more easily after that. Remus tells him about how the publishing house he worked at went tits up pretty much as soon as he started, because the two idiots that ran it spent all their money before they even had it. So, Remus had taken the plunge, and now he’s a touring musician with a frankly ridiculous number of monthly streams on Spotify. He still can’t quite believe it.

Sirius tells him how he models now, for a super artistic fashion house, and that there are talks that he might be going to the New York Fashion Week this year to walk in a few shows. He’d come over a few years after Remus did, needing to make sure his brother would be okay without him. Remus asks after Regulus and Sirius pulls out his own phone, showing him how gorgeous Regulus is now. Remus agrees — he’s just as beautiful as his big brother. Sirius smiles at that, looking up at Remus through his eyelashes.

“So, do I get to see photos of model-Sirius? Or did I totally just show you mine, but you won’t show me yours?” Remus jokes, talking around the straw in his cocktail.

“You offered. I made no promises,” Sirius says.

He reaches for the peanuts, but Remus yanks the bowl out of reach. He takes one in his hand and aims it at Sirius’ face. He opens his mouth and Remus throws it right in, reaching for a fist bump.

“No, but seriously,” Remus pushes, a little braver with the alcohol in his system. “What, are you afraid your girlfriend will be jealous or something? She’s tiny. I could totally take her.”

Sirius frowns, before his face opens in realisation. “Wait, you mean Lily, from the market?”

“You’re dating a girl named Lily? What, after Rose worked out so well in 12th form?” Remus laughs at his own stupid joke.

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my roommate,” Sirius clarifies. 

“Awkward.”

“Glad I don’t look that stupid right now.”

Remus hits him in the forehead with two peanuts.

“What about you?” Sirius chuckles. “You seeing that cherubic lad you were out with yesterday?”

“Peter? Absolutely not. He just eats my food and lives on my sofa, rent-free. The menace,” Remus vents. “Great friend, but I wouldn’t date him if you paid me.”

“I remember the days I used to drive you insane like that. You know, I still have your My Chem hoodie.” He says this casually, over the top of his beer glass, like he isn’t wreaking total havoc with Remus’ head.

“Well, I still have your leather jacket,” Remus volleys, eyes on the inside of his cocktail glass.

"You do?" There's an unreadable expression on Sirius' face now. It makes Remus' neck feel hot and he sucks harder on his straw, averting his eyes.

But then Sirius' phone chimes and Remus checks the time on his. It's almost midnight. The time just got away from them, like it always does when they're together. Remus could honestly stay here all night.

"Shit. It's Lily. She was out with her girlfiend and boyfriend and somehow lost her keys. I have to let her into the flat. I'm sorry." He looks it, too, peering into Remus' eyes with genuine regret.

“Then, we'll just have to hang out again soon." It just slips out, but he can't bring himself to care very much.

Especially when Sirius practically lights up. "I'll call you, then?" 

"I'll be waiting anxiously by the phone."

Sirius slips out of his seat to hug him tight. Just before he pulls away, he brushes a small kiss to Remus' cheek, making him swoon.

When he's out the door, Remus rests his chin in his hand to gather himself. The barman comes to relieve him of his empty glass, but ends up lingering a second. Remus glances up at him.

"Some sage advice," the guy says, a slight sarcastic bite to his voice, "but that guy? Totally into you."

"Guess who just lost his tip?" Remus fires back. 

"Use it to pay for an Uber, lover boy."

It’s only as the car pulls away from the curb that Remus realises Sirius had asked him about another guy — a man. He knows Remus is gay, and he doesn’t care. Remus suddenly can’t wait to see him again.

"I could die right now… I'm just so happy. 
I've never felt that before. I'm just exactly
where I want to be."

– Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, 2004

“Missing me already, Siri?”

“If I say yes, are you going to take the piss?” It’d barely been a whisper down the line, but it sent a shiver so violent down Remus’ spine that his toes curled beneath the sheets.

He used to be your best friend. You said shit like this to each other all the time. Get it together, Lupin, he berated himself.

“I think it’s adorable you’re calling me so soon…” Remus teased.

There’d been a tense beat in which Remus considered everything from flushing his phone down the toilet to moving into a remote mountain cottage in Siberia and changing his name.

“I’ve given our next hang-out some thought,” Sirius broke through his spiral, then. 

“Very industrious of you.”

“You know me — ever the overachiever. Now, if I tell you to dress comfortably, are you going to wear clothes even a beggar wouldn’t class as wearable?” Sirius actively came for his throat.

“…No?” Remus wracked his brain for what else he had in his closet.

“Good, good. Because I’m not covering your arse when your jeans tear clean off this time. Also, send me your address and be outside your house at seven tomorrow morning,” had been the cryptic instructions.

Which is why he’s currently waiting in old Converse (old, not decrepit, thank you very much), jeans with only minor rips at the knees, a stained t-shirt and a jumper on the pavement, arms wrapped around himself. It’s not exactly cold, but the early morning air is biting against his skin. He’s curious as hell about where they’re going, especially so early. Knowing Sirius, it’ll probably be the last thing Remus would expect.

Their transport certainly is.

Sirius throws his leg off a sleek, black, gorgeous motorcycle. He dumps his helmet on the seat and walks up to Remus with a smile.

“Like it?” he asks, a slightly tense edge to his voice.

“It’s so… hot,” Remus decides.

The self-satisfied smile on Sirius’ face is so sexy that Remus’ knees threaten to give out when he pulls him into a big hug. Instead, he finds himself gripping the back of Sirius’ hoodie — wait, his My Chem hoodie. It’s like Sirius wants him dead.

“You’re cold,” Sirius says suddenly, near his ear, and pulls back to scan Remus’ face. It’s then only that Remus notices he’s shivering. Maybe he is a little cold.

“It’s cool. I can run upstairs and grab a j—”

“No way. You can borrow mine. And we’re not that far away from where we’re going, where I promise to get you the hot beverage of your choosing.” He sounds like a flight attendant and Remus snorts.

They get onto the motorway, Remus wrapped in Sirius’ denim jacket with his chest pressed to Sirius’ back. Thankfully, they head into the sun, so it’s far warmer than on Remus’ street. He also isn’t complaining about having his arms wrapped securely around Sirius. He warns Remus about a sharp turn they have to take by putting one of his hands on Remus’ and rubbing soothingly at his skin until they’ve straightened back out. They pull to a stop much too quickly, Remus reluctant to let go of Siri just yet.

“Rem, we’re here. C’mon, we have to get going.” His voice is soft and he doesn’t pry Remus’ hands loose; only keeps up his gentle soothing until Remus lets go on his own.

When he looks up, he gasps. 

Looking between Sirius and their destination, he says, “You brought me to the zoo?”

Sirius chuckles. “I brought you to work with me.”

“You said you were a model. Are you having a shoot here or something?” Remus fits his helmet under his arm like Sirius does and follows him to the front entrance. They wave at the person selling admission, who greets Sirius by name.

“Modelling isn't very kind to the finances, so I work here to make up the difference. Not to be a nag, but we really do have to get going. They’re handing out schedules in five,” Sirius explains, speeding up.

Remus keeps pace with him. They basically jog across a visitors’ area with fenced-off enclosures from which can be heard all manner of animal sounds. By the front door of a nondescript, ‘staff only’ building, there’s a girl with a log book, looking majorly relieved.

“Cutting it kinda close, Black. Cam’s in a less-than-ideal mood.” She writes something in her book, while Sirius starts looking a little paler than usual.

Remus just stays right on his heels, hoofing it through the foyer of the building and down the steps to a group of people gathered at a massive reptile tank. There, another woman glares at Sirius like she’s willing him to drop dead where he stands. Instead, she fixates on Remus.

“I wasn’t aware today was Bring Your Boyfriend to Work Day, Black.”

“No! No, Cam. He’s here to help, I swear. Sorry we’re late. Traffic was murder.” Sirius attempts to placate. It helps that he turns up the puppy dog eyes. No one in Sirius’ life has ever been able to resist them.

Cam is no exception.

“Alright, maggots. Schedules are a bit all over the place today, but if everyone sticks to them, we might just survive. We have three school groups, meaning the minders have to be on guard. We can’t afford another lawsuit when Oscar gets too fresh. Got it?”

Everyone nods like they just received military orders before getting their papers from Cam. She asks Sirius and Remus to hang back while everyone else disperses.

“What’s your name, kid?” she asks Remus,  frowning. “You look familiar.”

“Remus. I promise I’ll help wherever I can. Thank you for having me.” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to kiss this woman’s arse, but he gets the distinct impression she isn’t someone you just say no to.

“You follow Black around, he’ll show you the ropes, and if we need an extra minder, you’re up. Got it?” Cam looks him right in the eye.

“Yes, Ma— Cam.” Remus’ eyes stretch wide, involuntarily.

“Also, Black, if you have a second, they say Maisy is refusing to eat again.” She pins Sirius with the same drill sergeant look.

Sirius frowns, though. “Again?”

But she’s already moved on, clearly preoccupied. “Listen, good luck out there today. I’ll have them make an extra lunch for your friend.”

“He’s vegan!” Sirius calls after her, to which she only raises an acknowledging hand.

Remus' head is spinning. A lot of things just happened in a very short period of time and he's actively resisting the urge to leave and go wait out by the bike.

"Hey. Alright?" Sirius asks, doing his concerned little face scan again.

"G– Yeah! Yeah, spectacular. Just a little overwhelmed, but it’ll be good, yeah?" Remus says.

"Absolutely. Super fun. C'mon, we'll go stow our things and then go see about Maisy." Sirius leads him off with a hand on his shoulder.

They're headed down a maze of corridors that Remus could never hope to navigate by himself, each one looking identical to the last. Sirius stops them outside a perfectly plain, grey door. He puts his hand on the door handle, but doesn't push inside yet. Instead, he turns back to face Remus. 

"Okay, look: Maisy is a nervous girl, but she's super sweet. Just, no sudden movements, yeah?"

"Following your lead," Remus promises. 

Sirius smiles at him and opens the door.

Maisy, as it turns out, is a large ball python. She’s a rose-gold colour and she practically smooshes herself against the glass of her tank when Sirius comes in. She uses her tail to grip Sirius’ finger and pull his arm in for her to cuddle. Remus doesn’t know whether to stare or “Awwwww!” out loud.

So, instead, he says something really intelligent like, “She’s a snake!”

“She’s an angel,” Sirius corrects, scratching lightly at her nose. She turns into it and Remus notices she has only one eye. “She came to us as a baby, mauled by a pet cat after being kept in a too-small tank since hatching. She’s extremely skittish and doesn’t really like being kept in an enclosure with any of the other reptiles. Either they eat all her food or they bully her. So, she’s here in rehab a lot.”

As he talks, he reaches for a cooler and flips open the lid to reveal frozen mice. He drops a few into Maisy’s tank and she goes to chomp them up immediately, while Sirius keeps patting her head. Every time she finishes a mouse, she glances up at Sirius for approval. He keeps smiling at her and talking to her sweetly.

“Thatta girl. My good girl, yeah? Will you be good until lunchtime?” Sirius asks her. 

As if to illustrate that she will be, she unwraps her tail from his finger.

Remus is near tears. He’s always known Sirius loves animals, but this is a side of him Remus has only ever seen on rare occasions with his brother. God, he’s so fucking beautiful it hurts. Suddenly, Remus is just sad — sad for himself, that he has this incredible human being in his life and he’s still so hopelessly in love with him, despite not having seen him for six years — and he can never have him.

“Hey,” Sirius says, putting a finger under Remus’ chin and tipping his face up so their eyes meet. “Are you okay? Something the matter?”

But Remus can’t bring himself to explain. So, instead, he pulls Sirius into another hug, burying his face in his best friend’s neck, and lets himself wallow for a minute. Sirius, like the angel he is, doesn’t push, only rubbing soothingly at Remus’ back.

“We should get to work. Don’t want Cam to fire me on my first day,” Remus says after a bit.

“She’d rip you a new one, but if she fires you, it means she’ll have to pick up the slack, and she does not have the time.”

They spend the morning feeding animals and cleaning the enclosures while the park slowly fills up with people. It’s super hard work, and Remus is sweating like crazy before long. The upside, though, is so is Sirius. Around 11, his shirt comes off and gets stuffed halfway into the back pocket of his shorts. 

Remus responds by tripping over his own feet and falling directly into the seal pool.

“Mommy, that’s a strange-looking seal!” a little boy calls out, and Remus considers just drowning himself.

“Need a hand?” Sirius’ voice is full of laughter.

“You know, no. I’m good. Just, uh… cooling off. You should try it sometime,” Remus tries for nonchalance, scrubbing his wet hair out of his face.

“We have an employee pool and a very nice bathroom, in case you didn’t want to smell like a wet dog.” Holding out a hand to him, Sirius treads carefully to get right to the edge of the pool.

“That might be… preferable.”

By the time they get inside, it’s their lunch break, anyway. Sirius sends him in the direction of the bathroom while he goes to grab their food. Remus takes a shower and scrubs the salt out of his skin and hair. It’s only as he finishes that he realises he has nothing to wear now that isn’t still wet and reeks of saltwater. He wraps the towel he’d stolen around his waist and gets out.

“Looking good, Lupin.”

Remus jumps out of his skin a second time, almost dropping the towel. Jerking around, he finds Sirius leaning against the wall, shovelling oily fries into his mouth.

“Why do you live to torment me?” Remus grumbles, stepping awkwardly from foot to foot.

“It brings me a special kind of joy,” Sirius responds, conversationally. “Brought you clothes, by the way. It’s a minder’s uniform, but you’re definitely up for minding duty after food. So, get your butt dressed and eat your goddamn salad.”

“Some privacy, then, please?” Remus asks, finding the uniform next to what must be a styrofoam container of his salad, and picking up the shorts.

“Anything for you,” Sirius says in passing, heading for the door. His eyes slide down Remus’ front before he smiles at him and goes to wait outside.

Remus meets him out in the corridor, quickly stuffing his salad into his mouth while Sirius leads him to what will most probably be his doom. He comforts himself with the fact that this is a one-time gig.

“Rem, I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly what you had in mind,” Sirius says, then. 

Remus looks up, a vicious frown on his face. “What?”

“This is just way more work than I thought it’d be. I didn’t know about the school groups.” 

“Cry me a river, Black. Today has been incredible. You’re incredible.”

Oh, God.

That last part had just… slipped out. And now Sirius is staring at him and Remus is blushing like crazy, his entire face probably a neon sign for Freudian slips. Maybe he’ll get lucky and the goats will eat him alive.

“Remus? There you are! C’mon! These kids are going to murder a llama today, I can feel it,” the girl from this morning comes to get him, dragging him off by the hand. 

The kids are already shrieking like a bunch of gulls over spilt ice-cream.

They end up letting him keep the uniform and he even gets a day’s wages, which he throws directly into the donations box. Cam actually comes out of her office to commend him for how he handled the kids and says he has a job at the zoo if he wants it. He politely declines, but promises to come visit again soon.

Sirius takes him home the long way around this time, and they head down the Hudson Boulevard at sunset. It’s so beautiful, Remus wishes he could snap a photo. When they pull up outside Remus’ building, he knows the pleasant ache in his bones means he’s sleeping well tonight. Sirius helps him off the bike before they both slip off their helmets.

“Come up for coffee?” Remus offers. “It’s decaf, but I have an espresso maker.” 

“I’d lo—”

“Lupin. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen your legs.”

They both swing around to find Peter leaning against the front door of the building, arms crossed and eyes on Remus’ exposed legs in his minder’s uniform shorts.

“They’re not bad legs,” Peter reassures.

“Thank you, Peter, for introducing me to an insecurity I didn’t know I had…” Remus squints over at him, against the dying sunlight glaring off the glass behind him.

“Dramatic as always. Was he this insufferable when you were children?” Peter directs his question to Sirius.

“Worse. I feel like he’s come a long way since then,” Sirius assesses. 

“I am right here.” Remus looks from one of them to the other.

“Well, get your arse inside, then, son. Your curfew is in ten minutes, and I’m not letting this obvious troublemaker suck your face off in the street,” Peter says, pushing the door open behind himself.

“I’m murdering you,” Remus threatens, beelining for Peter. “Your arse is grass, you hear me?” At the door, he grabs ahold of the back of Peter’s neck and then turns back to Sirius. “I had a great day. Thanks for everything. Text me when you’re home safe, yeah? I’ll reply with the details of Peter’s funeral.”

Sirius waves them off with a weird look on his face, but Remus totally misses it while manhandling Peter up the stairs.

"If there's any kind of magic in this world, 
it must be in the attempt of understanding 
someone, sharing something."

– Before Sunrise, 1995

Remus wakes up the next morning to the smell of baking bread and an insistent stiffness in his limbs. The previous day with Sirius comes back to him: the bike rides, the lingering looks, Sirius’ eyes on his bare chest in the bathroom… If Remus didn’t know better, he could so easily convince himself it’d been a date; that if he’d gotten Sirius up here, it could’ve led to something else. Maybe Sirius could’ve been the one currently pushing into his room, instead of Peter.

Well, at least he has breakfast.

“Good morning, you fucking corpse. It’s noon. I hope you slept well,” Peter says, sliding the tray in his hands across Remus’ lap.

“Noon? I must’ve been knackered,” he croaks out, getting himself upright.

“I’m just happy it doesn’t stink like sex in here,” Peter levels with him. 

He makes himself comfortable at the end of the bed, cross-legged. He’s still in pyjamas, as usual. Remus finds him utterly adorable when he’s like this.

“Thank you for my breakfast,” Remus smiles softly at him.

Peter returns his smile, running a hand over his buzzcut. “So, since you wouldn’t tell me about your date yesterday, am I allowed to hear about it today?”

Remus picks up his toasted bagel and dips it into his tea. “Firstly, it wasn’t a date. I told you — he’s straight—”

“Then, why was he giving you come-to-bed eyes when he dropped you off?” Peter interjects, eyebrows raised.

“You’re delusional,” Remus decides.

“You know what? You’re going to believe whatever you believe. Where’d he take you?”

Remus tells him about the zoo, about Maisy and the llamas and falling into the seal pool. Peter cracks up at that, his eyes getting crinkly as hell and his laugh turning into something a little tearful. Remus leaves out the exchange in the bathroom, wanting to cling to at least a tiny bit of denial. For some reason, the more Peter plays into Remus’ desires, the more painfully clear it becomes that he can never have what he wants. So, he keeps all the most poignant parts to himself.

That doesn’t stop Peter, though.

“Sounds like a date to me,” he says, digging into a bagel from Remus’ tray, “but I won’t push it. As long as he was nice to you, and you had fun, I’m happy.”

Remus stares at him for a minute, until Peter looks down at his food, a blush spreading out from his neck. It makes Remus wonder if Peter isn’t maybe way more affected by this Sirius thing than he’s letting on. All Remus can think to say, though, is an earnest thank you. He squeezes Peter’s hand for good measure.

“So, when are you seeing him again?” Peter asks, helping himself to another bagel.

“Not sure,” Remus admits. “He texted me when he got in last night, but we haven’t made any more plans.”

Peter nods, chewing for a bit. After swallowing, he frowns. “Do you think maybe he wants you to make the next move?”

“What move, though? He genuinely is straight. Does he just expect me to also make an effort to keep the friendship alive? Because I can just text him memes or something; start a Snapchat streak…”

But Peter is glaring at him again. “Hopeless. Utterly and completely hopeless.”

He gets up, then, and takes all the dishes in, leaving Remus spinning. Does Sirius seriously expect something big in return? The zoo was pretty huge, and maybe even a little personal. The little visit with Maisy had felt pretty personal. Remus’ mind jumps automatically to the bathroom, to Sirius’ eyes roaming his chest…

Stop it, he berates himself, picking up his phone. Just text him. Ask him what he’s doing. Maybe that’ll lead to more plans.

But it turns out Sirius has been texting him all morning. He has five unread texts from him, but instead of answering each one individually, Remus hits the FaceTime button, only remembering that Sirius could probably be at work on the third ring. He doesn’t have a chance to end the call, though, before Siri is answering, his smiling face lighting up the screen.

“Rem!” Sirius booms down the line.

“Can you be less awake? You’re making me look bad,” Remus teases.

“Did I wear you out yesterday?” Does he imagine the note of suggestion in Sirius’ voice?

Of course, you are. Peter is getting into your head.

“Manual labour tends to have that effect, yeah,” Remus smiles, trying to improve the state of his hair, which his front-facing camera has informed him is tragic.

“And here I was, hoping I could rope you in for weekends. You looked so sexy in your minder’s uniform, taking charge of those tweens. It gave me literal chills to witness. Breath-taking, Lupin.”

“Bite me.”

“Kinky. We can discuss it,” Sirius concedes.

“What if we didn’t and say we did?” Remus counters. 

“But where’s the fun in that?” Sirius looks mock-sad.

“You take far too much pleasure in my torment, Black. Where are you, anyway?” He’d just noticed the slightly muffled sound of foot traffic on Sirius’ end. Also, that he appears to be wearing a super nice, fitted shirt — but that’s beside the point.

“Airport. I was trying to tell you, but you slept all morning. I have a shoot in Hawaii this week, but I’ll be back Friday afternoon. Maybe we can do something then?” Sirius says, looking a little sheepish.

Remus puts on a melodramatic frown. “But… I’ll miss you.”

In the distance, they hear an announcement over the intercom. Sirius gets up.

“I’ll miss you, too, baby, but I’ll text you whenever I can. Talk soon.” He says this while apparently weaving through people.

“Talk soon! Safe flight!” They hang up.

“Did he just call you ‘baby’?” Peter asks from the door, making Remus jump. 

“Can you fuck off?” Remus glares at him.

Peter lifts his hands in surrender and leaves. A moment later, Remus hears his front door open and then close again. Not that he’s paying very much attention. Had Sirius called him baby?

The rest of the week’s texts don’t make this any clearer, despite Peter mocking him all week. 

“Hey, going to grab dinner! Wanna join me, baby?” he calls from Remus’ front door.

“You say that again and the next thing you’ll be eating is my arse,” Remus responds in a jovial tone.

“Wait. Promise?” Peter looks far too keen.

Remus throws his shoe at him, but Peter shuts the door too quickly and it just thuds against the wood

Sirius’ Instagram is just photos upon photos of him surfing and hanging out with equally beautiful people at cool beach bars or aesthetic shots of his hotel room. Remus has to fight himself to keep from liking and commenting on each one. Which is made slightly better by Sirius texting him all those pics, too. They talk constantly, about everything and anything, just like they used to. By Wednesday, Remus is genuinely missing him. Not even in a romantic way or anything. He’s just craving Sirius’ company.

He’s staring at his phone screen that night, looking and feeling forlorn, when it lights up like some divine miracle. It’s Sirius, calling him. He’s so dumbstruck by the coincidence that he almost forgets to answer. Almost.

“Siri.”

“Rem.” His voice is quiet and warm. “So good to hear your voice.”

“You a little tipsy, Siri? Or do you just genuinely miss me this much?” Remus almost doesn’t ask the last part, but he’s feeling especially unloved tonight and Peter is out. Even if Sirius’ answer is teasing and sarcastic, Remus knows it won’t be mean. He can take even a pretend confession of longing.

“Miss you. Can’t wait to see you Friday. You still up for hanging out?”

Remus isn’t imagining it. Sirius does sound a little out of it. Probably he partied a bit too hard and now he’s mellowing out.

“‘Course I am, bud. You still having fun that side?” Remus asks, gently. 

“Bud,” Sirius spits. “It’s no fun here without you.”

Remus frowns. “Anything I can do to help?”

Sirius gasps down the line, before cursing softly. 

Remus sits up on the couch, his frown deepening. “Siri? You good?” 

Then, the call goes dead.

Remus stares at his phone screen for a minute, wondering whether or not he should call back. He hopes Sirius is okay, or, at the very least, not alone. He remembers how he used to worry about Sirius back in high school, when he’d go to parties with his friends from glee club, and Remus would stay home, playing his guitar or reading. His stomach twists the same way now, knowing Sirius is super far away and he can’t just beg his mum for a lift to go pick him up.

But then his phone rings again.

“Sirius? Please, just tell me you’re alright?” His voice comes out far more worried than he’d intended.

“Fine! Sorry, Rem. Sorry. Everything’s fine.” He even sounds a lot more lucid.

Remus breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck. You can’t do that to me.” 

Sirius snorts. “Don’t be so sure.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Sirius sounds so suspicious just then that Remus figures this conversation is probably best left for when they see each other again. 

Instead, he throws caution to the wind, putting in motion the idea he’s been toying with for their next hang-out. “Listen, this band I like is playing at a club on Friday night. Feel like going with me?” 

“That sounds great! Can’t remember the last time I heard live music,” Sirius says, sounding keen.

“Cool. I’ll text you the venue, then we meet there. Sound good?” Remus checks, nervous now.

“Sounds perfect.”

Peter lets himself into Remus’ place, then, carrying what looks suspiciously like Thai food. Remus loves him.

“See you then. Sweet dreams,” Remus rings off.

“I just had the weirdest conversation with Sirius,” Remus recounts, joining Peter at the kitchen counter. “He sounded oddly mellow when he called — thought maybe he was drunk, but then he gasped at me calling him ‘bud’ or something, swore and hung up. And then he called back and sounded super weird. Not even all that sure what the call was for, honestly.”

Peter stares at him. “Did he, per chance, say he missed you? Tell you it’s so good to hear your voice?” 

“Yeah! Wait, how do you know?”

But Peter is cracking up. He takes in Remus’ confusion for a moment, but then goes right back to laughing hysterically. Remus is getting seriously annoyed, but nothing he tries gets Peter to tell him why he’s so fucking amused. Remus takes his Thai food into his bedroom and locks his door.

He is thinking of exactly this when he makes his way out of the club Friday night. The show starts in ten minutes and the pavement outside is packed, the bouncers working as fast as they can to let people in. He looks around for Sirius, but he's nowhere to be seen. So, Remus stands in the shadowed alley, keeping an eye out.

As it is, Sirius comes running up just in time. Remus grabs his hand, dragging him into the alley. There, he bangs on a door and waits, Sirius’ hand clasped in his.

"Uh, hi? Do I at least get a hug?" Sirius asks, mildly overwhelmed.

"Oh, God. Yes!" Remus says, tugging him close enough to slot their bodies together in a way that has Remus aching. Near Sirius’ ear, he adds, "I missed you so much.” 

“Sorry, I'm late,” Sirius says, relaxing into the embrace in a way that makes Remus’ knees want to give out. “Lily's girlfriend broke up with her and James, and they were both messes on our couch when I got in today. Then, Regulus pitched up out of the blue. Apparently, he got the part of Rocky Horror in the Broadway version of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I tried to get them all to come out with us, but Reggie seems to be a balm for Lils’ and Jamie’s broken hearts.” 

“I’m just happy you came. You look amazing, by the way.” Remus can tell Sirius has put effort into his appearance and tries paying him the compliment without too much awkwardness on his part.

Sirius squeezes him. "Thanks for the invite. You don't look too bad yourself, Rockstar. Is that my jacket?” 

“How was Hawaii?” Remus deflects as the door beside them opens and they're ushered inside. It is indeed Sirius’ old leather jacket that Remus had dug out to put on tonight.

It becomes too loud, then, for Sirius to answer, but he doesn’t seem too put out. 

Remus tugs him close again as the wings open up to the lit stage. 

“Evan’s going to take care of you. I’ll find you again afterwards,” he says near Sirius’ ear.

Sirius eyes stretch wide as Remus’ assistant leads him off, the realisation dawning on him.

Remus has literally never wanted to kiss another human being so badly. And it’d be so, so, so perfect, too. He could just grip the front of Sirius’ velvety button-down and pull him in, connect their mouths and kiss the daylights out of him. And that’d probably be the end of their night, their time together and their friendship. 

So, it’s much to Remus’ shock that Sirius darts back to him to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Break a leg,” Sirius murmurs between them, smiling so big, Remus is utterly dazzled. 

“Can Remus Lupin please snog his boyfriend on his own time? Thank you.”

Remus jerks back, but Sirius is laughing as he darts after Evan. Marlene, their bassist and a background vocalist, had spoken over the microphone, staring into the wings and right at Remus. 

He feels about ready to vomit as his in-ears are done and his guitar is strapped around his body. Especially when the entire crowd cheers and he can still pick out Sirius’ carrying voice above the din, somehow. Remus finds himself thinking, then, that he can’t exactly blame Peter for thinking Sirius has a thing for him, because there are so many signs.

The rest of the night is a blissful blur of lights, thumping drumbeats, fun basslines and so much dancing. Sirius goes so hard in the crowd, he’s a whole show by himself. Remus has sincerely forgotten just how much of a dancer he used to be. He remembers hearing around school that the girls used to love taking Sirius to school functions, because he was just so fun to dance with. Tonight is no different. Remus is literally drunk just off of watching Sirius, going so far as to decline the mid-show beer he usually drinks with the rest of his band to stave off the nerves.

It all comes to a head when they play this dreamy ballad that Remus has only just written. He’d spent his every waking moment outside rehearsals practising to have it ready for tonight. The first notes of the intro start and Remus gets a little misty-eyed, but keeps it together, much to his credit. 

Sirius, however, seems to be adamant about undoing him: he rests his arms on the stage and lays his head on them, tilting it to look up at Remus. 

Remus almost forgets the lyrics, but he only needs to look into Sirius’ eyes to have them all come back to him. Right then, he can’t care if he’s the most obvious, lovesick fool on the planet. Sirius Orion Black is the kind of person that songs are written about, and Remus is singing this to him. The rest of the universe may as well cease to exist.

And then it’s all over. Sirius hops up onto the stage and Remus wants to introduce him to Barty and Marlene, but he doesn’t get that far. Somehow, they fall into another one of those full-body embraces and Sirius is standing on his toes to kiss Remus’ cheek again. He only reaches his jaw, which is infinitely worse. At this rate, Remus is about to pass out. The lights cut out and the crowd disperses into the night, but he barely notices. He just wants to keep holding Sirius and maybe press him to a wall in the alley. Sirius, blessedly, doesn’t seem to have any desire to let go of Remus, either.

They leave through the door they came in. As they creep toward the street, Remus shifts his grip on Sirius, unclasping their hands to twine their fingers together. Sirius responds to this by leaning into Remus, which is seriously making Remus consider ruining their friendship. As it stands, he clings onto his friend like he’s trying to occupy the same space as him, and he refuses even to consider that he might be imagining Sirius melting further into him. 

Not tonight. 

Tonight, Remus is letting himself pretend this is a date.

“Dinner?” Sirius murmurs near his ear. “I know this 24-hour Japanese place not too far from here.”

“I would kill for some spicy tea,” Remus says. 

“I’ll get us an Uber,” Sirius says, smiling.

“Love you so much, Siri.”

Sirius’ breath catches in his throat. Remus definitely hears it. His head jerks up to look Sirius dead in the eye and his friend isn’t breathing, just staring at Remus. Staring at his mouth. Remus is going to faint on this crowded sidewalk.

“Sirius Black?”

The two of them jump apart.

At Sirius’ elbow is a girl, long black hair spilling down her back and eyes staring up at him like she’d very much like to have him for dinner. Judging by her outfit, she’s just Sirius’ vibe — all off-beat goth and sensual. Remus feels like he’s underdressed at a costume party.

“You’re Sirius, right?” the girl asks.

Figures Sirius would get recognised at Remus’ show.

Well, there go my delusions. 

“No way. He’s much better looking,” Sirius delivers the line with practised smoothness, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“He’s got his work cut out for him, next to you,” the girl flirts back, holding out a hand for him to shake. “My name’s Ariadne.”

While the two of them converse, Remus’ eyes are riveted to Sirius and his signals. His flirting is mindless, so easy and wholesome, and Ariadne is eating it up, moving into his space and making him laugh. In Remus’ pocket, his phone vibrates. He checks it gratefully.

“omw past club. u need a ride?” Peter texts him.

“pls. waiting out front.” Remus responds.

In front of him, Sirius and Ariadne are still just chatting away, Remus entirely forgotten. He smiles along, shaking hands in his pockets. Thankfully, Peter pulls up a minute later.

“I’m heading out. You two have fun,” Remus smiles at the two of them. 

“You’re leaving?” Sirius looks crestfallen. “What about Japanese?”

“You two can still go. Thanks for coming out tonight, Sirius.”

Remus opens the passenger-side door of Peter’s car, waving Siri off. As he shuts himself inside, he hears Ariadne say, “I love sushi.”

If Remus is quiet and teary all the way home, that’s no one’s business but his. And, for once, Peter has the sense not to say anything.

“That’s the problem with heartbreak: 
to you, it’s like an atomic bomb, 
and to the world, it’s just really 
cliché.”

— Drinking Buddies, 2013

Remus isn’t heartbroken. He’s just not, alright? He’s always known Sirius is straight. He’s just upset with himself for getting so swept up. But no more. He knows where he stands now, Sirius’ puppy dog eyes be damned. They’re best friends and he’s happy just to have that with his favourite person in the whole world.

Peter has no misconceptions about staying strong, though. He’s been back on the dating scene for a bit now. Tonight had been his big date with this girl he’d met on Tindr weeks ago — a girl he’d essentially given up for Remus. Knowing how well the two of them had clicked, however, had been what’d motivated Remus to forego his own frustration with the Sirius situation in order to help Peter.

And so, when Peter throws Remus’ bedroom door open and climbs into bed beside him, sobbing something terrible, Remus immediately puts down his phone.

“Pete?” He turns around and Peter burrows closer, entirely smothering himself in Remus’ chest. “Pete, hey. Are you okay? I mean, obviously, you’re not, but what’s the matter? Who am I murdering?”

Peter only cries harder, though, clinging onto Remus like he might just blow away if he lets go. Remus holds him tight, rubbing his back and murmuring soothing words against his forehead. Eventually, his breathing evens out and his sobs still, his frantic clinging the only sign he’s still upset. Remus brushes his lips against Peter’s skin.

“You stay tonight, okay? You don’t have to be alone.” 

“Love you, Rem.”

The next morning, Remus cooks bacon for the first time in years. He makes French toast and coffee, and runs to the corner shop for chocolate and more Dr. Pepper than he can comfortably carry. All of this, he takes into his room, to find Peter watching Netflix and crying.

“Pettigrew, I made you bacon, but you have got to stop crying. No pathetic Hollywood hack on Tindr is worth all that.”

Peter wipes his tears on Remus’ coverlet and then makes grabby hands at his food. Remus gets back into bed next to him. He offers Remus some of his French toast, but he declines, just sipping his tea.

“Now, am I murdering this fucker slowly or are we looking at vengeance?” Remus plots.

“Can it be both? Torturous death for being a fucking pretentious arsehole, and vengeance for her calling me ‘attention hungry’,” Peter grumbles darkly.

“She not only writes songs about all of her exes, but confirms who she’s written them about!” Remus only gets more pissed off when his tea burns his tongue.

“I hate her, Remus. Hate her. She was such a prick all night. I know we expected she might just be a catfish, but now I’m wishing she was.” Peter stuffs a bacon-and-banana-covered piece of bread, practically dripping cholesterol, into his mouth. “Oh, and I’m not the first person she’s done this with! No, apparently there is a literal subreddit and a Tumblr tag dedicated to her sick little game. It’s all some fucked up fantasy to her. She just wants to see how fast she can make you fall for her. We weren’t even out for an hour last night before she was talking to me about meeting her friends!” His words get more and more muffled as he keeps burning through his French toast. “An’ ah wah so s’upid, be’ause ah did! Ah ‘igured maybe ‘e wah jus’ nervous.” He swallows, chasing it with a huge gulp of coffee. “After meeting them all at this posh bloody restaurant, she asks me to find us a private table so she can get their feedback! Then, she spent a full ten minutes just digging into me, and I couldn’t say or do a thing, because we were in a crowded, public place. She ends up leaving me there. I didn’t even know where the fuck we were, and she just kicked me to the curb to find my own way home.”

Peter breathes hard when he’s finished speaking, as though he’s run some kind of marathon. There’s colour high on his cheeks and he actually looks a little feverish. That is, until he bursts back into tears. Remus takes the food from him and then pulls him into a hug. Peter lets himself be comforted for a moment before he sits back up and drying his face.

“I’m fine. Fine. You’re right — she doesn’t deserve this. Fucking sociopath.”

“Okay, but what if I told you I had a plan that would achieve both vengeance and social death?” Remus says, his mind working. His numb tongue feels funny in his mouth.

“Does it involve public scandal?” Peter asks, reaching for the chocolate. 

“Absolutely.”

“Then, I’m all for it, whatever it is. Just don’t get caught. We can’t afford a Hollywood lawyer.” Peter gives him the kind of bored look that has Remus convinced he’s going to be just fine, cunt popstars be damned.

“Do you reckon your friends on Reddit and Tumblr would be interested in helping us?” Remus asks.

“Pretty sure,” Peter smirks, reaching for his phone.

Which is why Remus and Sirius are presently in a nondescript rental van, driving at an inconspicuous speed through an extremely rich neighbourhood. They know exactly where they’re going, but they have to find a good place to park that isn’t just out front of this woman’s house.

“And Peter actually went out with this fucking arse-clown?” Sirius turns into an out-of-the-way undercover parking.

“We thought she was a catfish, but she was so sweet to Peter that we figured that if she doesn’t look like she says, Pete wouldn’t mind very much.” Remus reaches into the back for their masks, handing Sirius one.

“And she just does this? Victimizes people to see if she can? Fuckin’ sick puppy, that,” Sirius assesses, slipping his mask snugly into place.

When they’re completely covered, they each grab a rucksack and head out, sticking to the shadows. The walk is quiet at first, Remus focused on leading them to the right house. He feels Sirius get antsy next to him; knows he probably wants to talk about the other night, but Remus hadn’t gotten back in touch to vindicate him. He just couldn’t ask Peter to help him, because utter anonymity can only benefit Remus on the chance he’s caught.

“Look, Rem…” Sirius starts.

Remus raises a hand to silence him. “Don’t say my name — it’s incriminating. And if this is about the other night, I don’t give a rat’s arse. She’s pretty. Hope you two had fun.”

They finally reach the right building and Remus rehashes the plan. Sirius confirms, and then they split up. Keeping an eye out for security cameras, they travel around to either side, each getting onto a window cleaner’s pulley. As soon as he’s reached her windows, Remus takes out his first can of spray paint, along with his first batch of flyers.

There’s a point where he thinks he catches some movement inside. Reacting on instinct, he falls flat, which is clever in theory, but not when there’s some kind of metal pipe slamming right into his abdomen. The window scraper. Tears spring to his eyes and he cusses lowly. Fighting his overwhelming urge to leave, Remus waits another moment, just to be on the safe side.

As he primes the can of spray paint, he hopes Sirius is still okay and hard at work. He puts up the first flyer and spray-paints it to the window with bright yellow paint. The first pack goes well, sticking beautifully, and he finishes the yellow.

The next pack is from the Tindr crowd, Pete at the forefront. Remus remembers reading through the screenshots when he’d picked out which ones to use. Most had made him angry, but some had made him downright sick. Peter’s had been some of the latter, and Remus had never experienced rage like that in his life. Peter had told this psycho some deeply personal stuff, and she’d repaid Peter by humiliating and discarding him. This is what fuels Remus to work as efficiently and quickly as possible.

He’s barely gotten started, though, when something like a wicked screeching sounds up from his left. He pauses mid-spray, frantically scanning beyond the glass. It’s a cat — the most demonic-looking hellspawn he’s ever seen. As it approaches him, its spitting and hissing only intensifies. Remus finds himself feeling grateful for the window between them, but only momentarily. The cat begins scratching at the glass and it opens only barely, but that’s enough for it to shove itself through and onto the pulley. Flyers forgotten, Remus shoves the cat back through the window and then manoeuvres himself to the ground so fast, he almost goes flying off his platform. Thankfully, he makes it out in one piece, eyes scanning around for any witnesses as he backs up to make his way back to the rental van.

But then his back collides with something solid and he’s spinning around fast enough to give himself whiplash.

“Oh, fuck.”

His eyes bug out behind his mask. In front of him is not only a security guard, but one with a taser – looking utterly murderous. Giving into his instincts then, he turns tail and runs at warp speed, vaulting himself clear over a city bin. He can hear the second set of footsteps gaining on him, so he runs flat-out, the breath ripping out of him in painful gasps, his bruised ribs in fresh agony.

“STOP!” comes the cry from behind him. Remus barely has enough time to realise how ridiculously alike this guy sounds to the cat before he starts up his shrieking again. “IF YOU THINK YOU’RE GETTING AWAY WITH THIS THIS, YOU’VE GOT ANOTHER THING COMING, PAL!”

They’re in a back alley now, which honestly looks like Remus is playing a horror PC game. He doesn’t slow down, though — doesn’t dare — staying close to the building and hoping all the commotion stirs up some sort of distraction. The chain-link fence at the end is looming up fast and Remus prays his friend is gone; wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something were to happen to Sirius, no matter how weird things are between them right now.

And naturally, as comedic relief would have it, Remus trips on literally nothing and hits the ground at a skid. He feels his shirt tear, and the pain lancing through his ribs threatens to pull him under. He knows he’s done for, but he can’t bring himself to face his end head-on. When a dark mass races past him, he reckons it’s another, turned-around guard.

There’s a series of thuds and then Remus is being hoisted to his feet.

“I’ve got you, but we have to move fast. He won’t be out for long,” Sirius pants near his ear.

Remus tries walking, but the pain in his ribs makes his legs buckle. Without ceremony or warning, Sirius swings him up, into his arms, and then takes off running back the way they’d come. Remus clings to his back for dear life, knowing their only hope now is to get to their transport. Sirius is smart and sticks to the deepening shadows. He holds Remus close, but somehow still manages to pick a sure, fast path to a decent enough hiding place to avoid more guards.

Around them, the sun has set and the street lights are coming on, one by one. They freeze in their escape when they spot a cop car coming up the street. Thankfully, it passes them without incident.

Imagine Remus’ panic when Sirius slips back out of their hiding spot and runs across the street to their vandalised building. 

“Sirius,” Remus hisses after him, but he’s too far away to hear.

Remus waits there for the longest fifteen minutes of his life. Eventually, he decides to bugger it all and go searching for Sirius, figuring his friend isn’t going to jail for this alone.

He’s just struggling to his feet, however, when Sirius makes a reappearance, scooping Remus up and heading back to the van at a jog. Thankfully, their faces haven’t been seen. So, they change out of their dark clothes and masks, and into street clothes, manoeuvre Sirius’ bike out of the back of the van and get out of there. 

They rocket around a corner and slip right through an intersection, a stream of oncoming traffic blocking off an oncoming police vehicle headed away from them. Sirius doesn’t slack off until he manages to get them under a bridge and parked in some kind of loading dock. By then, tears are running, unbidden, down Remus’s cheeks. The pain is something unbearable at this point, his ribs pounding in time with his heart.

“Let me see,” Sirius offers, reaching for Remus’ shirt.

Figuring it can’t get much worse, he turns to show Sirius his right side, moving his jacket and shirt out of the way. Unfortunately, he also catches sight of it himself and a sob escapes him, spilling fresh tears down his face. Sirius stays calm, though, and drags his rucksack closer. Out of it, he pulls a first-aid kit, which Remus can’t believe he hadn’t thought of himself. If his fall had resulted in bleeding, he’d be waking up in a prison cell tomorrow. As it stands, Sirius gets this kind of sterile-smelling pad out of a vacuum-sealed packet and then places it over the bruising. He adds another one and then tapes it in place super gently. After a minute or so, whatever those pads were soaking in starts seeping into Remus’ skin and, blissfully, numbing the pain. He slumps against a wall, trying to even out his breathing.

“You good, Rem?” Sirius frowns, looking genuinely concerned.

Remus isn’t having it, though. He’s been through too much tonight, and he feels slightly put on. “Why’d you ditch me for the girl?”

Sirius gapes at him.

“The girl! Ariana, or whatever her name was. We were having such a good time, and we were going to get an Uber, and then you just started flirting with this girl and blowing me off entirely. Why? Did you take her home?” Remus knows he sounds super petty right now. He can’t bring himself to care much, though. He needs some way to get rid of all these confusing Sirius-centric feelings in his chest at all times, and Sirius had no right to make him feel stupid that night — whether he’d intended for it to be a date or not.

“I— No. No, I didn’t. She looked pretty keen, but the only person I’d wanted to leave with was you. After you went home, I told Ariadne good night and asked Lily if she could come pick me up. Rem, I’m super sorry. I didn’t mean to blow you off. She just… cornered me. She’s a fan. I can’t just tell her to fuck off. You know what social media’s like.” And he sounds sorry, too. 

Remus hates it. How is he supposed to stay mad at Sirius – feel hurt by him – if he’s this reasonable and remorseful?Even more so when he says things like “the only person I’d wanted to leave with was you”. Remus truly hates himself sometimes. Why can’t he just stop this senseless pining?

Because he likes you back! Peter’s voice cries out in his head. 

He wants to go home. He tells Sirius this.

“But can we not be in a fight anymore? Please? It’s been eating me up for days,” Sirius admits.

“No more fighting. Sorry I was a brat. I guess there are some things I just can’t outgrow,” Remus relents. His side is down to a slight twinge now and he’s utterly fried, his eyes threatening to droop shut any second.

“Not your fault. I’m out of Rem-practice. Still love me?” He gives Remus this pout he’d last seen when they were kids, arguing over Sirius liking the jocks and the cheerleaders too much for a theater nerd.

Just like when they’d been kids, Remus gives him a tired sideways smirk. “Love you forever, Siri.”

Sirius looks like the cat who got cream all the way home.

“…raining incriminating messages from dating apps and social media. No sign of the perpetrators can be found on any CCTV footage. However, their message is received loud and clear…”

“OH MY GOD!” Peter exclaims when they tramp through Remus’ front door together. He comes to meet them in the kitchen. “You put flyers in the vent system? Fuck, I love you guys.”

But Remus turns carefully to Sirius. “We put flyers in the vent system?”

“Must’ve been while your face was gravity-checking that alley.” Sirius crosses his arms, leaning nonchalantly with his hip against the counter.

“You know what, I’ll let that slide for saving my life. I owe you a beer for that.”

Peter looks between the two of them for a moment. “While I’m sure this is no doubt a riveting story, I’m exhausted.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Remus’ cheek and then goes over to do the same with Sirius. “My heroes. Siri, if you’re still here in the morning, I’ll take you both out for breakfast.”

“Work, sorry,” Sirius excuses.

“I have an early morning, too, actually,” Remus puts in, “but don’t worry about it, bud. She just got what she deserved.”

Peter nods, looking a little sad. Sirius wraps him in a hug. Remus follows suit, ignoring the spike of agony in his side.

When Peter leaves them to put himself to bed, Remus suddenly feels very awkward in his own kitchen with Sirius just standing there. His coming up had not been part of the plan, and suddenly Remus feels like a teenager having a boy over, knowing his parents won’t approve. He brings his brain to a screeching halt before it has the chance to revisit a particularly awkward memory of his mother forbidding him from having ‘anyone’ upstairs in his room with the door closed, which he’d suspected had been code for ‘Sirius’, despite Remus not being out yet.

“Are you waiting for me to leave, too? Because I think I want to take another look at your ribs first…” Sirius trails off, looking about as awkward as Remus.

Sirius doesn’t get awkward.

He wants you so bad, it makes him look stupid! Peter’s voice is so clear in his head, Remus almost swings back to face the door to see if he’d come back.

“No! No. Sorry. No, you don’t have to go. I’m just in my head. I can make us some coffee, if you want? Is decaf okay?” Remus moves over to the machine.

“Decaf is great. Thanks, Rem.”

He can hear the smile in Sirius’ voice, which has him smiling into his coffee filter as he makes them each a mug. Sirius goes to make himself comfortable on the sofa Peter’s vacated, throwing the blanket he’d left behind over his legs. Remus hands him his mug, kicks off his shoes and goes to curl up in his favourite armchair. Actually, it’s his favourite by necessity, because Peter always claims the sofa.

“So, do you really have work tomorrow?” Remus asks him, quirking an eyebrow. “I ask, because I would not in the slightest blame you for wanting to get out of breakfast with Peter. He’s more of a beer and peanuts type. Watching him eat full meals is not something one recovers from easily.”

“Noted,” Sirius replies. “But, yeah. Tomorrow, I have an all-day fitting and screen testing for a shoot I’m doing this weekend. It’s supposed to be fun. My manager let me know it’s some kind of BDSM-vibe.”

“Don’t look so excited, Siri. It might send the wrong message,” Remus teases over the top of his coffee.

“That I actually condone the capitalist regime and would do anything to maintain a lifestyle that is unnecessarily lavish and self-indulgent?” Sirius rambles off.

“Exactly. We can’t have that. Think of your fans, how disappointed Andy would be.”

“Her name is Ariadne, and you can stop it now. She’s no threat to you,” Sirius teases right back.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Black. I’m just such a big fan! Could I get your autograph? A photo? Blow you in an alley, perhaps?” Remus drags him to hell and back, having way too much fun.

That is, until Sirius blushes furiously, and Remus wants to kick himself for being so tactless. He lives with his damned foot in his mouth, and he’s usually so good at keeping it in check. But Sirius has always been his weakness.

“Sorry, mate…” Remus tries to sound as sincere as possible. 

Sirius clears his throat. “No. It’s fine. Sorry. I’m being stupid.”

Remus frowns, confused, but then Sirius is smiling at him and he drops it. Remembering his earlier vow to himself to quit his pining, he decides to extend an olive branch of sorts.

“If you’re cool with borrowing something of mine to wear tomorrow, you can stay over tonight, if you want…? We can watch movies until we pass out,” Remus offers. “Like old times.”

“Yeah? I’d like that. You’ll let me take care of you first, though, right?”

Now, it’s Remus’s turn to blush into his toes. Instead of looking awkward or apologetic, though, Sirius chuckles at him.

“I meant your ribs, gutter ball,” he says, getting to his feet and draining his coffee mug. “I don’t think we’re quite ready for second base yet.”

Remus empties his mug, too, handing the cup off to Sirius and hoping he doesn’t look as ready to disappear into the sofa cushions as he feels. 

Sirius, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care. Probably the latter.

“Wait, if it’s your bare chest I’m feeling up, doesn’t that technically count as second base?”

Trying for nonchalance, Remus scrunches his hot face into a considering expression. “Maybe for girls? I don’t know. Our boobs aren’t as big as theirs.”

“Good point. Do you guys have heat packs anywhere? Or maybe you just have a hot water bottle?”

Remus directs him to where it is. Eventually, the two of them get comfortable in bed and Remus gets a movie going on Netflix while Sirius makes him strip so he can take another look at his ribs. Somehow, they look worse, but they don’t hurt as much. Sirius says this is because Remus is so pale — he bruises super easily. He tapes up the bruising and then makes Remus take a decent amount of pain meds. After which he makes him lay on his uninjured side so he can put the hot water bottle on Remus’ bruise.

He fades fast after that, though, the excitement of the night catching up with him. Behind him, Sirius draws lazy patterns on his bare back. The sounds of the movie lull him into a doze, his limbs and head heavy. Right as he drops off, he feels something warm press up behind him and then a small, soft pressure to the top of his head.

The next morning comes to stab him right in the head. He feels like a reanimated corpse, every last one of his joints refusing to cooperate in a way that does not cause him pain. This is what he gets for not hitting the gym with Marlene every day. It isn’t his alarm that’s waking him up, though. He suddenly remembers he’d shared a bed with Sirius last night, and he’s currently getting up. Remus feels Sirius’ arm slip from around him, gently so as not to jostle him, but then he’s leaning forward again — to press a kiss to Remus’ cheek.

Remus lets himself bask in the attention for a second, letting his stomach flip and his veins fill with sunlight and his heart jump up into his throat, but then he turns to see where Sirius is going. He just leaves the room, soundlessly taking Remus’ elation with him. There’s the scuffle of him slipping back into his boots in the living room, and then he’s quietly letting himself out. Remus can’t bring himself to call after him.

He lays there, feeling miserable and lousy until his front door opens back up and his ears perk up like a dog who’s being promised a walk. Only, it’s Peter coming to make sure he’s on time for his recording session with the band. He helps Remus get through his shower relatively painlessly and then rebandages him. He’s trudging down into the subway before long.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and figures it’s probably a text, but it doesn’t stop, and so he fishes it out. It’s Sirius. He answers quickly.

“You on your way to work?”

“Yes, Mom,” Remus grumbles. “Great job ditching me this morning, by the way.”

There’s a call on Sirius’ end, which sounds like his name. Remus presumes he’s at his fitting. “Sorry, babe. I needed to deep cleanse my face, or Tasha would have my head. Listen, Lily, James and Reg want to do dinner tonight at ours. Peter says he’s in. Can I come to pick you up, say, sevenish?”

It’d definitely been there this time. Remus’d heard it. He’d heard it and now he’s missing his train, collapsing onto the subway steps because his knees don’t want to hold him up.

Babe.

“Rem? Did I lose you in the subway?” Sirius asks through a very loud scuffle on his end. 

“Sevenish?” Remus repeats, dumbly.

“Yeah! Gives us time to check out your ribs again. Peter is driving himself from work.” Remus nods, before realising Sirius can’t see him.

“Sevenish,” he agrees.

An annoyed female voice yells at Sirius, then, and, instead of waiting for some distracted apology, Remus just hangs up. He hears the AP system calling out his train, but he makes no move to get up.

“…it’s just a party.” 

“And hell is just a sauna.”

— 10 Things I Hate About You, 1999

By that night, Remus has cycled through denial and acceptance about a hundred times. But when he’d been getting ready for the dinner party, he’d spent some time considering things from Peter’s perspective. Not even the dull ache in his side could distract him from dropping his emotional predisposition to assess the situation on its merits.

And Peter is right: the signs are overwhelming. If it’d been anyone other than Sirius, Remus would’ve considered their time together as the prelude to a romantic relationship from the jump. So, as it stands, he’d very much like an explanation from Sirius — and he is determined to get one.

It doesn’t help that he’s nervous as all hell to meet Sirius’ friends. He knows that it’s probably not a big deal, but he wants to make a good first impression. Whether this thing between them ends up being just a friendship or something more, he’d like for the people in Sirius’ life to like him. And he knows he’s an acquired taste — has been his entire life, to which Sirius can attest. So, on top of being worked up over Sirius, he’s also trying to work out how to be himself while not being so extremely… himself.

He’s already dressed when there’s a knock at his door. Checking his hair, he tugs once at his shirt and then goes to answer. It’s also then that all his bravado fails him entirely.

There, leaning artfully in the doorway, his hair slicked back and eyeliner making his grey eyes pop something magnetic, is Sirius in a scuffed leather jacket that hangs off him stunningly. Remus is instantly convinced he’d let Sirius lead him to the edge of the earth, baby-ing him the entire time.

“Help me…”

Sirius’s eyes go wide immediately and he scans Remus over frantically. This probably means that Remus had said that out loud. What if the floor does him a huge solid and opens up to swallow him whole right now?

“I mean, hi,” Remus tries again. “You look, um…”

“You, too…” Sirius says, his expression first softening and then changing into something… else.

“Are we going?” Remus says, patting himself down to make sure he has his keys, wallet and phone.

Sirius nods and leads the way downstairs. This time, they’re thankfully taking a car, which is great for Remus’ hair. Sirius holds the door open for him and Remus gets in stiffly. He knows he’s making everything super awkward, but he can’t even decide if he wants a happy ending anymore. Everything feels too confusing, and he’s trying his hardest to fight off his flight instinct.

The radio switches on with the car, and some Bowie filters quietly through the speakers. Remus lets the music fill his head for a minute, focusing on his breathing and trying to get his mind right.

“Look, for the sake of putting all my cards on the table and keeping things open between us, I should mention that my ex will be there tonight. We’re all good now, though! Zero weirdness. It just might come up, and I don’t want you to be caught off guard.”

Remus’ eyes fly open.

He turns to glare at Sirius. “You said you were roommates.”

Sirius looks apprehensive at his tone and expression. “We are roommates. We were roommates before we dated, and then we broke up, but it was amicable.”

“I just… Sirius, you’re making less and less sense to me. Your signals are so mixed, I’m beginning to wonder if we even speak the same language anymore. We’re mates, yeah? So, what does it matter to me about your ex-girlfriend—”

“Boyfriend.”

“…ex-boyfriend and how well you get on now? And don’t even get me started o—” 

“Remus?” Sirius chances a few glances at him. “Rem? Oi!”

Remus’ gaze is fixed on a tiny flaw in the leather interior, his mouth gaping open repeatedly like a fish out of water. Sirius pulls over, putting the car in park, but keeping the hazards on. Then, he turns to Remus and puts a hand on his arm.

“Boyfriend?” Remus says, his head empty except for that one word.

“Yes? The title we give men we are romantically involved with, without the commitment of marriage,” Sirius tries to lighten the mood.

“But you’re straight,” Remus spits out.

Sirius chokes on air and then dissolves into a loud guffawing. This ticks Remus off and he punches him in the shoulder.

“Quit your honking. This is serious.”

Getting himself under control, he wipes at the tears forming in his eyes carefully, so as not to disturb his eyeliner. After a few deep breaths, he turns back to Remus.

“You know, I’m a little offended. You’re supposed to be my best friend, but you’re literally the only one who hasn’t picked up on the apparently distinct air of bisexuality I exude.”

“Can you cut the theatrics for ten bloody seconds and explain yourself, Black? Actually, no. First, you’re going to drive me to the Japanese place for tea, and then you’re explaining yourself. Because I am spinning out.” And, with that, Remus crosses his arms and pouts through the windshield.

“Anything for you,” Sirius smirks, putting the car back in drive and doing a U-turn.

While they drive, he has Remus send a text to explain that something major came up and that they won’t be there tonight. Unfortunately, Remus has to send the text to Peter, who responds with a winky emoji and “GET IT”. Remus snorts to himself, wondering what exactly the odds are of them shagging tonight. Somehow, he doesn’t feel like they’re too bad.

They find a tiny table in the corner and Sirius ends up next to him instead of across from him. Total date move. Remus smirks to himself.

“What’s funny?” Sirius wants to know, eyes glinting mischievously as he leans forward onto his elbows.

“No,” Remus says, leaning away and back in his chair, shaking his hair so that it flops around his face a bit. “No, you’re going to answer a few questions for me first.”

“Proposal: What if we play a game? Question for question — and we have to be entirely honest. That way, we both find out what we want to know. But you have to ask carefully, because you’re only allowed one question at a time,” Sirius counters, accepting his tea from their waiter.

“Deal,” Remus says. “I’m going first: have the past few times we’ve spent decent amounts of time together been dates?”

“You mean, have I intended for them to be dates? Because that’s an entirely different question, Rem, which means I don’t owe you a straight answer,” Sirius toys with him.

“Good thing you’re bi, then,” he fires back.

“Touché,” Sirius chuckles. “Okay. Yes, I intended for them to be dates. My turn: did you leave me high and dry in London because you fancied me and didn’t know how to tell me, because you thought I was straight?”

“Fancy,” Remus corrects, his shoulders slumping forward and his head going blissfully empty for the first time since he’d run into Sirius at that damned farmer’s market. “I fancy you, and yes. That’s exactly why I left without saying goodbye.”

All the cockiness bleeds out of Sirius’ expression, then, leaving him looking soft and vulnerable and a little antsy.

“Do you… I mean, are your… Sorry,” Remus’ throat goes dry. He’d thought he could handle this. He knows how to deal with Sirius’ cockiness — apparently not so much his fear.

“Yes,” Sirius whispers back, reaching for Remus’ hand. “Yes, I feel the same. I didn’t realise until after you’d left. I guess I thought you’d just always be there, and then you weren’t and everything fell apart. I had to leave. But ever since I ran into you that Sunday, it’s like I can breathe again, like nothing is as bad as it seems. I am, Rem. I’m in love with you.”

Remus twines their fingers together, a tear tracking its way down his cheek. “You know, I haven’t stopped thinking about you once in the last six years? I kept thinking it’d get better, that I’d move on someday and there’d be someone else even more amazing than you. But no one else was even half as good. That’s why I didn’t come out in high school — not because I cared what people thought, but because I cared what you thought. I would’ve rather wanted your friendship than nothing at all.”

“I’m sorry I was so stupid, baby. I’m sorry I took you for granted. The past few weeks, I’ve only been trying my best to make it up to you; to make you feel as special as you are to me. And I know putting you to work, and then ditching you for a groupie, weren’t very smart ways to do that…”

“Siri, you showed me who you truly are in both those moments: the amazing, big-hearted, genuine, beautiful bloke I’ve been in love with since we were kids. I’m the luckiest guy in the world, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” Remus smiles.

And before he can quite get his feet under him, Remus is falling into Sirius’ chest, their mouths meeting in a kiss that sweeps Remus clean off his feet, anyway. Sirius is better than his wildest daydreams and more amazing than he could ever have imagined, and he’s so incredibly, all-consumingly mental for him.

“Are we still going to dinner?” Remus asks, after they finally come up for air.

“Actually, isn’t your building decidedly Peter-free for once?” Sirius asks, kissing along his jaw to his ear.

“As usual, I like your thinking, Siri,” Remus tries his hardest not to swoon where he (barely) stands.

Sirius drops a bill on the table and then pulls Remus into his side, leading the way out to the car.

Remus shoots Peter a text on their drive home, which is just a thumbs-up and the eggplant emoji.

“You wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.” 

“You’re the sweetest guy 
I’ve ever known.”

— 13 Going On 30, 2004

“James, get the door!”

“Oh my god, I am chopping! Reg?”

“It’s okay, I’ll just get it!” Sirius yells back from outside the flat, trying to get his keys out while trying his hardest not to drop the dessert.

Remus reaches into his pocket and gets them for him.

“I love you,” Sirius breathes in his ear, brushing a kiss to his cheek.

Remus lets them in, realising too late that he’s now entirely exposed himself by stepping inside first. But coming to greet them is not Lily, or Mystery-James, but none other than the gorgeous, darling, very missed Regulus Black. He comes and wraps Remus in a tight hug that Remus returns.

“I miss you now we’re not neighbours anymore,” Reg frowns, holding Remus at arm’s length to look him over.

“I miss you, too. It’s been far too long,” Remus almost tears up.

“Maybe you can just come live here, too,” Regulus offers, leading Remus into the kitchen. “We’re practically a commune, at this point.”

It’s about a month since the original dinner party. Things had just gotten so busy that they’d kept postponing until tonight, when Lily had refused to take any more of anyone’s shit. Remus scans the place as they walk. It’s much nicer than his place, with spacious rooms and high ceilings and furniture that looks like it comes from some alt home catalogue. Somehow, it suits Sirius perfectly, this New York City penthouse. Remus almost feels bad for depriving him of this for the last month. Especially once he sees the kitchen, which looks like any chef’s wet dream.

“Remus!” Lily calls in greeting. “Glad Sirius finally stopped hogging you. It was making Reg sad.”

Reg lets go of Remus’ hand to go over and drape himself over Lily’s back and kiss her neck. She smiles and turns her head to whisper something in his ear that makes him smile his cutest crinkly-eyed smile.

“Hey,” a melodic baritone greets from Remus left. He only notes the man to be shirtless after he comes over to wrap Remus in a hug. He smells like sunshine and daytime – Sirius’ antithesis. “I’m James. So happy to finally meet you.”

Remus hugs him back. “I’ve been calling you Mystery-James in my head all this time, because Sirius refused to tell me a thing about you. He says you’re an experience, and that the best way to get to know you is first-hand.”

“He flatters me,” James blushes adorably, his flawless blue eyes twinkling softly beneath a mop of unruly dark hair. He’s extremely handsome, Remus notes, and so exactly Regulus’ type. Reggie deserves gentle, caring souls, which Lily and James so clearly are.

“I’m pouring wine!” Sirius announces, then. “Rem, shall we get your cake in the fridge?”

Remus rushes to get it done, remembering how prone the vegan butter icing is to melting. Regulus helps him, dutifully rearranging the fridge’s contents until the cake fits comfortably. By then, their wine is waiting for them and Lily and James are sauteing vegetables. Reg goes to help (or steal stray mushrooms, it’s unclear which), but James heads him off and kisses him quite headily. Remus can’t help but smile.

While the others cook, Sirius comes to wrap himself around Remus where he’s sitting on a stool by the island.

Pressing his lips to Remus’s ear, he breathes, “Have I told you how hot you look tonight?”

“Have I told you I’m not wearing any underwear?” Remus volleys, just as quietly. 

“Fuck, I’m so in love with you,” Sirius croons, going to suck on his earlobe.

“With your whole heart, right?” Remus taunts, reaching back to brush a hand along the front of Sirius’ jeans.

“Forever,” Sirius answers, voice serious now.

Remus sighs, smiling, and relaxes back into his boy’s arms. “Forever.”