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Sirius had once heard a joke about how it was nearly impossible to get an elephant into a fridge. Well, the way things were turning out, it was even harder to get a werewolf onto a plane.
“Remus, come on!” Sirius insisted for the third time that evening, one of their last at Hogwarts. “James’ mum has already booked the tickets. And the resort. And the muggles do this thing called ‘all-inclusive’ which means—”
“I know what all-inclusive means, Sirius,” Remus said, not looking up from his Potions textbook. “But it’s too risky. If the Ministry finds out I left the country, what with my furry little problem…”
“They won’t!” Sirius protested, crossing his arms. “Besides, there’s no full moon the two weeks we’re going, so you’ll be perfectly safe. I already checked the charts for Cancún.”
“It’s not about that, Sirius. I’d have to register my travel with the Ministry, and they’d want a real reason other than just graduation trip, and then even beyond that they’d probably send someone with us to monitor my, well, behavior. International travel is impossible for me. My application would get rejected immediately.”
Sirius paused for a moment. “What if you just… didn’t tell them? You have a passport, right?”
Remus sighed. “Yes, but…”
“No buts! You can just pretend to be a Muggle. This isn’t any different than sneaking out of the castle to go to Honeydukes!”
“This isn’t any different?” Remus slammed his book into his lap and glared up at Sirius. “Pads, this is a crime according to international wizarding law. I could end up in Azkaban just for thinking about it.”
“Well, the Potters seem to think—”
“The Potters don’t know —”
“I think they do, honestly, Moons, and—”
“Sirius, I can’t —”
The Fat Lady portrait swung open and in barged James and Peter, arms overflowing with pastries they’d presumably stolen from the kitchens.
“What are you two bickering about this time, then?” James said, setting down his pile of food on one of the sidetables and squeezing onto the sofa beside Sirius. Peter followed suit.
“Remus says he won’t go with us to Cancún.”
James swung his head to face Remus, his eyes wider than dinner plates. “Remus, what? My parents already booked everything—you have to come!”
“I can’t, James,” Remus said. He explained, much to Sirius’ frustration, what he had just said about the Ministry.
“Do you really think Voldemort’s supporters—you know, of the furry condition—listen to International Statutes?”
Remus frowned, and Sirius wished he could reach out and straighten out the creases that formed in his friend’s forehead when he did that, but maybe this wasn’t the most appropriate moment for it. “Are you suggesting we stoop—”
“No, shut up, Remus, of course not. I’m just saying I don’t think that the Ministry is particularly tuned in to where every single wizard travels at every moment. It’ll be fine.”
Remus scoffed and picked his book up again but maybe—just maybe—his eyes had brightened a little, and his cheeks had tinged a little red, and Sirius knew the battle’s tide was turning.
The next day, after their Potions N.E.W.T, which happened to be their last one, because none of them had chosen to continue taking Divination past fifth year, Sirius insisted that Remus accompany him down to the lake for a swim.
“It’s our last weekend,” he’d insisted, already taking his shirt off as they walked across the lawn. Years of straddling a broom and swinging a Beater’s club had given him that upside-down triangle body that caused so many of Hogwarts’ fine young birds—and some of the blokes, too—to ogle at him as he passed them by. Frustratingly, Sirius noticed, Remus refused to look at his body. It wasn’t for nothing he’d taken his shirt off early.
Remus, having finished his last exam, gave in fairly easily, which wasn’t necessarily in character for him, Sirius thought, but he wasn’t about to complain. Sirius dove into the lake head-first and Remus followed quickly behind him.
“Fuck, it’s cold!” Remus sputtered as he came up to the surface, shivering. “How can it be cold? It’s May.”
Sirius paddled deftly over towards Remus who, with his twitching lips and knife-sharp collarbone, looked all too gorgeous to be true. It was no surprise to Sirius that he thought Remus was fit. Actually, he’d been thinking about it since third year. Remus would never go for it, though, or so James had advised him, so Sirius did his best to keep his hands to himself.
“You know where the water is warmer?” Sirius blurted out, flicking a few droplets at Remus’ face. “Cancún.”
Remus sighed, standing up in the mud. The water was deep enough where they were that it covered him up past his chest, but his shoulders were exposed, and thank Merlin for that, because Sirius got a beautiful view of the little dip past his collarbone that he wanted to suck on. “Sirius, I’ve told you—”
“You’ve told me shit,” Sirius said, pulling his sopping hair up into a bun on the top of his head. Remus’ curls stuck to his forehead, nearly reaching his eyes, and Sirius knew they were soft. If only it wasn’t weird for mates to play with their mates’ hair. “You know James’ parents want you to go. And I want you there too. You’re my mate.”
Remus looked down, playing with his fingers under the water, still shivering like mad. “I… okay. Okay, Sirius, I’ll go.”
Sirius’ gaze shot up to look at Remus. “What? You will?”
Remus shrugged. “Yeah, I guess—”
He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, because Sirius was launching himself at Remus, grabbing his waist and tackling him underwater. The two floundered a bit, Sirius taking the excuse to hold Remus tightly against him, marvelling at the rippling muscles underneath his hands. They emerged, Remus sputtering and breathless and Sirius wide-eyed and gasping.
“God, I could kiss you!” Sirius said without thinking, his hands still on Remus’ waist. Remus laughed, tense, and pulled away.
“Take me to dinner first, you mutt,” he joked, not meeting Sirius’ eyes.
And Sirius wished he could.
And so it happened that, three weeks later, after having successfully convinced a suspicious gate agent that their wands were, in fact, just toys and not serious weapons meant to poke someone’s eye out, the boys found themselves scrunched up in the economy seats near the back of the plane.
“Don’t you think your parents might have been able to afford… I don’t know, business class, or something?” Peter grumbled, struggling to stretch the seatbelt over himself from the left of Remus. James, who was sitting in front of Peter—the two of them having insisted on claiming the aisle seats because of their ‘weak bladders’—laughed.
“I asked for economy. I thought it would add to the muggle experience.”
The man standing in the aisle next to James, struggling to lift his carry-on into the space above his seat, shot the boys a weird look. Sirius tensed for a minute wondering what the odds were that there was another wizard on the flight but, luckily, the man didn’t pay them any more attention.
Sirius, having been on planes quite a few times for various vacations with his family, including those awful trips to France to meet his cousin-suitors, did not find himself particularly impressed at the shaky take-off the pilot conducted. Halfway through it, as Heathrow grew smaller and smaller underneath him, it struck Sirius that Remus would never have been on a plane before.
He forced his body around in the seat and stuck his face in the space between the seat and the window. Sure enough, there was Remus, looking strangely gorgeous, face pressed against the window, lips open in what must be awe, eyes wider than the moon, glittering and hazel.
“Holy shit,” Remus whispered, and if Sirius hadn’t been looking at him, he wouldn’t have heard it.
Sirius gave it a second, wishing there wasn’t the damned seatback in between them so he could reach out and stroke Remus’ hair, or squeeze his hand.
“It’s not like riding a broomstick, huh?” Sirius finally decided on, the words falling dull and shapeless out of his mouth.
Remus startled, then looked over at Sirius. There must have been something funny about the way his face looked shoved into that tiny space, because Remus’ lips curved up into a smile and suddenly he was giggling, his hand pressed over his mouth. If it was Peter—hell, if it was James—laughing like that, Sirius would’ve hexed them with elephant ears right there. Something about the way Remus’ dimples dug into his skin when he laughed… fuck, Sirius thought, he might just have to find more ways to make Remus giggle.
“No,” Remus admitted, reaching out and flicking Sirius’ nose. “It’s not like a broomstick.”
Sirius’ nose burned rose where Remus had touched him. “What do you think of the flight?”
“We just took off,” Remus remarked, lifting one of his eyebrows in a way that was particularly sexy, Sirius thought, and was probably contributing to the rush of blood going from Sirius’ head to his more sensitive parts.
“You know what I mean!”
Remus smiled again. “It’s wonderful, Padfoot. Thanks for making sure I came. I’m glad I did.”
“‘Course, Moons. Where would we be without you?”
Three gross airplane meals, two flight attendants flirting with James, and one sprint-across-the-airport-to-make-it-in-time connection in Miami later, the four of them were finally touching down in Mexico. After a light tussle at border control because, apparently, Peter’s passport was expiring soon, and after successfully claiming all their luggage at baggage claim (and convincing Peter not to just grab any bag he wanted, the poor kleptomaniac, they were comfortably settled on a bus taking them straight to their all-inclusive.
“Don’t you think, James,” Remus said, having listened to James ramble on about how cool it would be not to have to leave the resort, since anything they could ever want from their vacation would be right there on the property, “that we should go out and explore what Cancún actually has to offer outside of, like, Piña Coladas?”
James gave Remus a weird look. “Why would you want to leave? You could get anything you need—”
“I just mean, I think, I don’t know, it might be cool to talk to some locals. Or see the nightlife outside of the hotel bar. Don’t you think so?”
James shrugged. “I don’t know, mate.”
“I agree with Remus,” Sirius blurted out suddenly, although he wasn’t actually quite sure that he did, since the idea of laying by the pool for two weeks and not moving sounded amazing.
“Well, you two can go out and do whatever you want,” James said. “Peter and I aren’t leaving paradise. Isn’t that right, Wormtail?”
Peter shrugged, more invested in the Mexican Coca-Cola he had bought at the airport than he was in that particular conversation. “Sure.”
When the bus finally did pull into the resort, Sirius could sort of see what James meant—it was paradise, with endless palm trees and gleaming mile-high white marble pillars and stunning arched balconies. It was also, however, drowning in tourists.
James was the first off the bus, running to the reception desk to get them checked in. Sirius, Remus, and Peter followed him, each one of their eyes trained on different beauties of the landscape—Remus in awe at the local flora, which was so different from the muddy greens of Wales, Sirius amazed at the muggle fashion that was a sunhat, and Peter amazed rather at the concept of bikinis (or, perhaps more simply, at the concept of boobs).
Before they even made it to the reception desk, James had already checked in and gotten their room keys. He pressed one into each of their hands before herding them towards the elevator.
The room had stunning views of the Caribbean sea, with water bluer than anything the English Channel had to offer. One big problem, Sirius realized almost immediately after walking in, was the beds.
“There are only two beds,” he said, dumbly, looking at the two queens drowning in pillows and comforters.
“Three, actually,” James said, pointing to the sofa. “That’s a pull-out couch.”
“That’s still not…”
“I claim the sofa-bed!” Peter exclaimed suddenly, perhaps just marvelling at the concept of sleeping on a pull-out, Sirius thought, or, more likely, not wanting to be delegated to floor duty.
“It’s fine,” Remus said, all too suddenly for Sirius’ taste. “If you lend me a pillow and a blanket I can crash on the floor. It’s carpet. I’ll be comfortable.”
James shrugged. “Fine with me. I’m taking the bed by the window.”
Sirius looked over at Remus, who had dropped one of his bags beside him and looked like he was already scouting out which section of the floor would be easiest to sleep on.
“Don’t be an idiot, Remus,” Sirius muttered to him, kicking him lightly in the shin. “We can share a bed. We’re mates.”
Remus looked up at him, and Sirius thought he’d never seen a more beautiful man in his life. Surely no other man’s eyes creased up in the corners like that when they smiled, or twinkled, or whispered, “are you sure?” as if the answer was ever going to be no.
“Of course,” Sirius said, unsure why his voice had gotten shaky so suddenly. He realized, suddenly, that he’d probably been staring at Remus for a bit too long, and spun around to face James and Peter. “Well, then, boys—anyone in for some pool time?”
An hour later saw James, Peter, and Sirius splashing around the deep end of a pool, Sirius heavily lathered in sunscreen due to his “ridiculously pale complexion, really, Padfoot, you’ll burn like a tomato!” or… something along those lines, anyways. James had managed to get a hold of a beach ball and was currently trying to find the best way to launch an air-filled piece of plastic at Sirius’ head. Sirius, though, had different ideas, ideas that involved Remus, who was sitting at the edge of the pool, his perfect feet swinging in the water, a book clasped in between his hands and sunglasses sitting neatly on his crooked nose.
“Re-mus!” Sirius called out, sing-song, while paddling over to him. “Re-mus!”
Remus kicked up some water at Sirius, not looking at him. “What?”
“We’re here to have fun ! We didn’t cross the Atlantic to read.”
“I am having fun, Pads. This is Dickens, the genius, you know—Ah!”
Remus’ thought was interrupted by his screech. Sirius wasn’t sure what had taken over him. An overwhelming wave of masculine bravado, maybe. Or lust. Something along those lines. He’d grabbed Remus’ ankle and looking up at the boy between wet curls, dragged him in the water without warning.
“Siri-!” Remus sputtered as he was falling in, his book flying behind him in a defensive save. The book toppled harmlessly near their beach chairs.
Remus emerged, sopping wet, in his swim trunks, and clung to the wall, staring fiercely at Sirius. “What the hell, Pads?” he demanded but—and there was always a but with Remus, Sirius noted, he was never just serious—there was a hint of a smile playing on his face.
“Warmer than the Black Lake, huh?”
Remus pushed some hair off his forehead. “You could say.”
Sirius clung onto the wall next to Remus, letting his feet collide with Remus’ legs under the water. Suddenly, he found that he couldn’t find anything to say. Sirius’ heart was suddenly pounding, for no good reason at all, he thought, except perhaps for the best reason, of course, which was Remus. Sirius let himself stare for another little minute at Remus, water droplets lining his jawline, his cheek pressed against the stone tile of the poolside, his rosy lips parted slightly. “So, uh… are you jetlagged?”
Remus raised a stark eyebrow at Sirius. “Same as you, mate. Come on, I think Peter needs saving from James.” Remus kicked off the wall and paddled off and Sirius, for the millionth time, found himself shocked at just how agile Remus was, even in the water, slithe like an eel. Must be his wolfish tendencies.
When Sirius looked over at James, though, James wasn’t bothering Peter at all. He was looking directly at Sirius, both eyebrows raised, lips pursed, that stupid knowing look on his face that made Sirius want to punch him in the gut. Sirius rolled his eyes and followed Remus towards them.
As it turns out, Remus was jet lagged, and so was Peter, because the two of them thought it was perfectly appropriate to throw away a good two hours of the day for a pre-dinner nap. Sirius thought it was a stupid idea and, quite frankly, a waste of a good afternoon, but James had insisted Peter and Remus “rest up,” and Remus had learned to listen to James over Sirius, which meant James and Sirius had a few hours alone. James had dragged Sirius to one of the many poolside bars around the resort and had ordered them both Piña Coladas.
“You know the Ministry can convert Galleons into muggle money?” James said, taking a sip of his drink.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Yes, James-y poo, I did know that. That is part of their job, after all.”
“Did you know,” James said, getting that dreamy look in his eyes that he’d get whenever he saw Lily across the common room. Or when he saw a particularly delicious Sunday Roast. “That you can buy plane tickets with muggle money?”
Sirius cocked his head. “Yes, James. I did know that. What, exactly, are you trying to get at?”
James shot a guilty look at Sirius. “I might have bought Lily a plane ticket to come and join us for the second trip.”
Sirius gaped at him. “But your parents…”
“I know, I know. I didn’t tell them. I hope you don’t…” James trailed off, not meeting Sirius’ eyes. “I mean, I know this was meant to be a mate’s trip, and my parents don’t want me spending nights with Lily until we’re married, but…”
“Prongs!” Sirius said suddenly, shaking himself awake and slapping his brother on the back. “Of course I don’t fucking mind. That’s genius!”
James grinned up at him. “Yeah? Her and I have been getting… I don’t know, we’ve been talking about our future a lot. Settling down.”
Sirius took a long drink of his Piña Colada and set it down. “So… are you going to marry her? Do you need us to give you guys the room for an hour every night?”
James laughed suddenly, eyes gleaming again. “We’ll see, Pads.” A pause. “I don’t think I’m the only person who’ll want the room every now and again.”
That stilled Sirius. “What? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you know,” James said, that knowing look crossing his face again. Sirius had to look away. “It’s just… Obviously I’m going to have to share a bed with Lily. Pete’s got his own bed and a right hand, so he can do with himself what he will. I think maybe you’re sharing a bed with someone you…”
Sirius blinked. “Spit it out, James. What the fuck are you trying to say?”
James put two hands up in self-defense. “I just think you look at Remus a lot. Like, a lot.”
Sirius gulped. “I… well, I—”
“You know, I suspected it ever since you told me you were gay back in fifth year. Then there was that one time you were drunk and tried to sleep in his bed with him. He had to jinx you out of it. And…”
Sirius coughed. “James, I… Yeah, okay, so Moony is fit. You can’t disagree with that.”
James shrugged. “I don’t like blokes, mate. You do.”
“But he also happens to be my best mate. After you, of course. Even if he was gay, which we have no reason to believe, I wouldn’t do anything. I wouldn’t want to.”
“Right.” James said, clearly unconvinced. “We’ll see.”
“What do you mean, we’ll see ?” Sirius all but sputtered out.
“You’ve never been known for your self-control, Padfoot. Remember that time in sixth year when Fabian Prewett said you were fit at the Christmas party and you all but shagged him in front of—”
“Enough!” Sirius roared, face flushed fiercely red. He punched James in the arm. “Okay, I get it. But this isn’t Fabian Prewett we’re talking about. It’s Remus.”
“You’re gushing,” James noted, raising an eyebrow at him. “All you did was say Moony’s name and you’re gushing.”
“James…”
“Listen, I approve, okay? Even if it goes to shit—and I don’t think it will—he’s our best mate. He’ll always be our best mate.”
“Fine. Maybe after we get back from Cancún…”
“Seriously? You’re gonna chicken out now ?”
Sirius frowned. “Well, I don’t want to ruin the vacation.”
James shook his head, and Sirius could tell he was trying his best not to roll his eyes. “No, it’s just that, Sirius. If you tell him here, and it doesn’t work out, you can just pretend it never happened. What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico, and all that.”
Sirius chugged the rest of his drink and gestured at the bartender to make him another one. “You know what? Fine. I’ll just take Moony for a moonlit walk on the beach tonight and tell him I’d rather fancy it if he shagged my brains out right there on the sand for everyone to see.”
“Sirius!” James exclaimed. “Can’t you be serious for once?”
“I’m always Sirius,” Sirius grumbled. “Fine, fine. I get your point. I’ll talk to him, okay? But you know what this means, right?”
“What?”
“If Remus decides he’s not comfortable sharing a bed with me anymore, you have to share with him. And I get to share with Lily.
James, in his rush to launch himself and tackle Sirius to the ground, brought Sirius’ fresh new drink down to the floor with them.
James had insisted on treating them all to dinner at the hotel’s fanciest restaurant for their inaugural night in Cancún. Sirius and Peter, having packed only robes, had to borrow muggle button-ups from James and Remus. James, ever the kind soul, gave Peter his nicest shirt, nevermind the probability that Peter was going to stretch it out around the waist.
Sirius was offered the miraculous opportunity to wear one of Remus’ worn brown shirts, which smelled like him, so much so that Sirius thought he was going to faint from amore. Sirius did everything in his power not to look at James who, he knew from the corner of his eye, was making ridiculous googly eyes at him.
The restaurant, much in contrast to the rest of the blindingly-white resort, was decked out in classy black decor, with shiny black marble tables and lush velvet cushions on all the chairs. Despite the fact that they were at an all-inclusive resort, and had no need to pay extra money for food that was probably going to be worse than what the Hogwarts house-elves cooked up for dinner every night, the place was fairly crowded. Most people, Sirius noted with a bit of a grimace, had not dressed up, wearing stupid Hawaiian shirts and khaki shorts, despite the fact that the restaurant had two Michelin stars—one of the only muggle things Sirius was familiar with.
“There are no prices on this menu,” Remus noted as soon as the four of them sat down in a corner booth, squirming uncomfortably and flipping through the menu. James waved him off with a shake of his hand.
“Don’t worry about it, Remus. Seriously. My treat.”
“You already flew us all the way out here and…”
“My parents did that,” James responded, signalling for a waiter to come by. “This one’s on me. Hey, we’ll have a round of drinks. What do you all want?”
They ordered three margaritas and one strawberry daiquiri (James, for some reason, had never liked margaritas).
“So what’s the plan for after dinner, then?” Sirius piped up suddenly. Peter, looking down at his plate, grogginess from his nap still clouding his eyes, snorted.
“‘M going back to bed,” he grumbled. “We can do whatever tomorrow.”
“I’m with Peter,” James said, giving Sirius a pointed look. “You and Remus figure something out.”
“Actually,” Remus said, not meeting Sirius’ eyes, as he set down his margarita. “I’m going to do my own thing tonight.”
“What?” Sirius said, trying very hard not to sound like he was whining. Given James’ little giggle, it hadn’t worked. “Where are you going?”
“Just… some solo exploring, I guess. You know how I am. But we’ll do something together tomorrow, yeah?”
Sirius moped for the rest of dinner, pushing his filet mignon around his plate like it was a piece of slimy seaweed. Afterwards, Remus said his pleasant goodbyes in his Remus-y way, which shouldn’t have been sexy, but was. Sirius gave him a half-hearted hug and ignored both the concerned look he was getting from Remus and the exasperated one he was getting from James.
“Peter, do you mind heading back to the room and making sure it’s all set up for us?”
Peter raised his eyebrow at James, looking between him and Sirius. Given their seven-year friendship, Sirius guessed, Peter had gotten somewhat accustomed to James and Sirius having their own talks. He shrugged and walked off. James waited until Peter was out of earshot before speaking.
“You know, you can go do your own thing, too.”
Sirius looked up at his brother, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t say a word all throughout dinner. I mean, I get it, you want to be with Remus, but maybe you’ll have fun out at a bar or something. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a cute local and—”
“I don’t want to meet a cute local, James, I want to be with Remus.”
James sighed. “Just go out, okay? Have fun. Talk to some people. Have a few drinks. You have the room key.”
Sirius paused. “Fine. But I’ll be back in the room soon. I’m tired, too.”
“You know,” James said after a pause. “There aren’t any gay bars in Hogsmeade.”
Sirius blinked. “Yeah, James, I know.”
“But in Cancún… different story, I bet.”
It was Sirius’ turn to pause. His stomach twisted, a bit, at the thought of being in a place surrounded by other gay guys, none of whom he’d ever really interacted with outside of polite rejections. At the thought of dancing with one, or having a drink pressed in his hand. He felt, at once, like he was going to throw up and like he might die from excitement. “That’s not a bad idea. But I’m not going there to meet someone.”
“I know you aren’t,” James said with his know-it-all grin, slapping Sirius on the back. “I’m knackered. I really have to sleep. Have fun tonight, yeah?”James slapped his thighs and stood up, faking a yawn, or so Sirius thought, anyways.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Sirius said and James grinned at him, walking away.
As it turned out, Sirius had no idea how to find bars—or, actually, how to find a way to get to bars. He wondered for a while how Remus had decided to go out, or had even found places to go, but, knowing Remus, he had certainly done his research weeks ahead of time. Although Sirius highly doubted the Hogwarts library had any books on Mexican nightlife.
Usually not the type to ask for help, Sirius found himself nervously rapping his fingers at the unattended reception desk. A few minutes passed by before a stout woman walked out.
“How can I help you?” she asked gruffly, sitting down in the seat.
“I was just wondering if there was, ah, a bus to get, you know, into the town? To find bars and things?”
“We have a hotel bar,” the woman said, not looking up at Sirius. “Don’t you want to just stay here?”
Sirius paused. “Ah, no. I want to go out and meet some people in the town.”
She sighed. “Yeah, there’s a bus that leaves from the front door every thirty minutes. The next one is in five.”
“Thanks.” Sirius turned around and walked out the door behind him and, sure enough, there was a small black bus with its door open. He climbed on.
It was empty. Sirius figured, as he sat down and waited for the bus to get ready to go, that most people that chose all-inclusive resorts had a similar idea as James and Peter did, not eager to leave the place. In the last two minutes before the bus was set to leave, two teenage boys, fairly underage but nevertheless drunk, clambered on, and they were off.
The street the bus dropped them off at was only about a ten minute drive away and there must have been resorts that weren’t all-inclusive, because it was crowded. Neon-lit signs lined the street, girls in tight tops and boys in five-inch inseam shorts lined the sidewalks, and droplets of sweat lined the side of Sirius’ face. He followed the two teenage boys off the bus before it drove away and he found himself feeling suddenly very alone. If only he knew where Remus had gone—he would’ve joined him without question. Except, of course, Remus had made it very clear that he didn’t want to be followed.
Sirius sighed and, stepping off the road and onto the sidewalk, meandered into the first bar he saw. Music, high-strung pop, Spanish, blasted his ears the minute he stepped in. He gulped, hoping none of the patrons, each of which were sitting on one of the red velvet stools or in the black plush booths, noticed him looking as out of place as he probably did.
In one of the greatest moments of Gryffindor bravery that had ever overcome Sirius, he decided that—since he was in a foreign country, where nobody knew him, or his family—he should ask the bartender for the nearest gay bar.
So he walked up to the bar, resting his clasped palms on the bartop, and waited for the bartender, a pretty 20-something brunette, to notice him.
“What can I get you?” she asked after glancing at him, mixing some cocktail in her shaker. Sirius coughed.
“I was just wondering if you knew… ah, if you knew whether there were any gay bars here? It’s my first time.” Sirius thought a stone might fall from the sky and plummet directly into his heart as the words tumbled out of his mouth.
“There’s not a gay bar,” the woman said, giving him a look and pouring out the drink into a glass. She handed it to a customer. “But there’s a little danceroom in the back of Doley’s—that’s the pub down the street and to the right—where a lot of gay people go. It’s fun. I go all the time.”
Sirius nodded, staring at her wide-eyed for, he thought, longer than he should. He wondered whether or not he looked like a deer in headlights. He hoped not because, of course, that was James’ job.
“If you’re not going to order anything,” the bartender said, not unkindly. “I need you to get out.”
Sirius obliged, rather hastily, letting the door slam shut behind him—although it didn’t stay closed for long, as a group of thirty-somethings marched in off the sidewalk and into the place just as Sirius was leaving.
A few minutes of searching and Sirius found Doley’s on the corner of the street. The place looked, in all honesty, a little dingier than the other bars—the lightbulb that was supposed to brighten up the L in the Doley’s sign had gone out, so it read like Doey’s. Sirius held back a chuckle at the thought that James and Lily might quite appreciate the name, what with James’ particularly apt animagus form.
Sirius paused outside the glass door for a moment, peeking in, letting whatever nerves were still flooding his veins take over for a minute. It’d been about a half-hour since he’d gotten off the bus, hadn’t it? It certainly felt like it. Maybe he should just go back to the other end of the street, hop on the next bus that came, and go back to the resort. He had two weeks, didn’t he? He could just come back and check out the place tomorrow.
But those nerves were, thankfully, Sirius thought, very quickly replaced with adrenaline and Sirius shoved himself into the bar. Despite its dingier appearance, Doley’s was loud inside. Some American artist was blaring through the speakers, and the patrons—mainly middle-aged men in their fifties, but some women as well, each dressed in equal parts latex and leather—were each trying to speak over it. Sirius suddenly felt strangely underdressed in the brown shirt he had borrowed from Remus.
After scanning the room for a minute, letting his eyes rest on various empty drinks or black tables or particularly shiny leather-clad arses, Sirius spotted a black curtain in the back through which people—people who seemed like they might be closer to his own age, thank Merlin—were stumbling in and out of. Sirius, gulping down some more nerves, and still rather tipsy from the four drinks he’d ordered at dinner, gathered together whatever bravado he didn’t use just to enter Doley’s and marched across the bar, pushing through the black curtain.
Just as Sirius was walking in, a horrible thought crossed his mind—that he was walking into a trap, or some sort of sex haven for perverts. Thank Merlin, though, the backroom he had just strutted into looked like an extension of the front room, slightly less crowded. These patrons were, it seemed, very gay—not many of them were dressed as humbly as Sirius was. Sirius, not exactly eager to look around and see who was or was not noticing just how out of place he looked, decided it was about time for another drink. He tiptoed over to the bar and ordered a lemon drop martini, one of the only non-Piña Colada muggle drinks he knew (thanks, Dumbledore). He chugged half of it as soon as the bartender slid it over to him.
Feeling a bit more comfortable with a stemmed glass in his hand, Sirius allowed himself to look up and scan the room. He started to his right, seeing the DJ play in a flurry of purple and white lights. Then a group of girls his age dancing in a mosh pit, each one grinding against another. A pair of boys making out. Some black lighting and a few more couples tongue-deep in each other’s mouths. Nothing particularly interesting, Sirius decided, and not all too different from a Black family reunion.
He scanned, then, the people sitting at the bar close to him. The bartender, a woman in her thirties, was taking an order from a couple that had just walked in. A few people, on their own like Sirius, sipping drinks and people watching. A woman with a mohawk flirted with a femme. A man in his forties was trying to hit on someone Sirius’ own age, who Sirius couldn’t exactly see, because they were facing away from him, but based on their curly hair, and the color of their shirts when they were hit by strobe lights, Sirius almost thought… But no. It couldn’t be.
The boy turned away from the man and Sirius got a glimpse of his side profile and…
“Remus?” Sirius blurted out, louder than he had meant to, across the bar. Remus startled, snapping his head up to look around, and holy shit he looked gorgeous, the purple light casting an eerie glow, sharpening his cheekbones, darkening his gaze. Sirius almost called out his name again, but Remus’ gaze finally landed on him.
A flurry of emotions crossed Remus’ face, none of which Sirius could name in particular—shock, of course, and something that might have been anger. Remus turned to the older man, said something—an apology, perhaps—and stormed towards Sirius. Sirius stood up from his seat and made to give his friend a hug, but Remus backed away.
“Did– Did you follow me here?” Remus sputtered out, eyes wider than should have been possible. His lips were trembling, and Sirius wished he could still them with his own.
“What? Remus, no. I came here on my own. Why would you…”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Remus drove his hands into his hair, looking around at the crowd. “Shit, you weren’t supposed to find out this way.”
“What? Find out what, Remus?”
“Why did you come here?” Remus looked like he was choking back sobs.
“Find out what, Remus?”
“That I’m gay, Sirius!”
Sirius’ world suddenly felt like it was spinning. He paused.
“You’re gay?”
Remus nodded, hastily, and suddenly it was like he was looking everywhere except Sirius. “Fuck. You weren’t supposed to be here.”
“You’re gay ?”
Remus looked over at Sirius. “Yes. Well, halfway, anyways. And you know what? If you have a problem with that, Sirius, then…”
“A problem ? Why the hell would I have a problem with that?” Seven million thoughts were pouring out of different spouts into Sirius’ brain and he couldn’t decide which once was the most important.
Remus paused. “You…”
“Remus, I’m gay.”
Remus, it seemed, didn’t know how to respond to that. He just gaped at Sirius, his gorgeous lips falling open, his eyelids fluttering over his hazel brown eyes, and he really had no right to look so drop-dead stunning.
Sirius coughed once. “I thought you knew.”
“Why would I know?” Remus sounded genuinely confused.
“James knows.”
“James knows everything. You never told me!”
“You never told me.”
Remus cocked his head at that. “I… fair point.”
“Why else would I be here, Remus?”
“I thought…” Remus trailed off for a moment. “I thought, I don’t know, that you followed me here, or something.”
“Shit, Remus, I know I’m nosy, but I’m not that invasive. At least, I hope not.” Sirius noticed, then, that Remus had a few tears lining his cheeks, something he hadn’t noticed earlier, which he blamed on the honest-to-God awful lighting. “Are you crying?”
Remus sniffled. “No.”
Sirius, who had known Remus long enough to figure out when he was lying, suddenly threw his arms around his friend. “Remus… you were never in any danger of me caring. Of any of us caring. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not me without you. I would sooner carve out my own heart than ever lose you, Remus. I don’t give a fuck if your type is forty-year-old men.” Although, Sirius thought, he did give a fuck about that, and now that he was thinking about it, a little iron knife began to wring its way into Sirius’ heart as he realized that if that was the type of guy Remus was into, he never stood a chance—nevermind the fact that Remus was gay, too.
It seemed, though, that what Sirius had said had given Remus pause. Remus, who had melted into Sirius’ hug—quite adorably, Sirius thought—suddenly stilled. He stepped back. “What?”
“The guy you were flirting with at the bar,” Sirius explained, trying to keep any venom out of his words.
“I… you think I was into him?” Remus said, chuckling in between his words.
“You weren’t?”
Remus gave a full laugh, then, clasping his side. “Sirius, you saved me. That idiot wouldn’t leave me alone!”
Sirius laughed, too, until suddenly it wasn’t very funny anymore, until suddenly he remembered a promise he had made to James earlier. He blinked, then pulled Remus closer to the bar, out of earshot from anyone else. His hand stayed on Remus’ arm a touch longer than was strictly necessary.
“While we’re in the telling-secrets mood…” Sirius’ face flushed warm, and he was suddenly grateful he had chugged that extra drink. “I have to tell you something.”
Remus blinked. Sirius continued, his words marching forward before he could think better of them.
“I wanted to tell you tonight. I promised James, actually, that I would tell you tonight, but then you said you were going out on your own, and my chance was gone, and…”
Remus blinked. Sirius took a deep breath.
“What is it, Sirius?” Remus said softly, reaching out and touching Sirius’ shoulder. He chuckled, light and airy. “Hell, I’m still drowning in shock from seeing you here. And from learning that you’re… anyways, what's one more surprise?”
“I quite fancy you, is all,” Sirius said suddenly, the words coming together all too fast out of his mouth.
“I… what?”
“That’s a lie. I think I’m thoroughly in love with you, mate. I can’t stop staring at you all day, because you’re fucking gorgeous and it’s not fair. I’ve loved you since I knew I was gay. Since before, I reckon. I love the way you hold your stupid books, and the way you eat with your left hand even though you’re right-handed, and I love that you smell like chocolate, and I love your hair and the little cowlicks you get every morning, and I love it when you hum, even though its annoying and you do it all the time, and I love your fuzzy sweaters even though they’re itchy, and I love your fucking face, and I would very much like to kiss you right now if that would be okay.”
“I… what? was that?” Remus was wide-eyed and red in the face and fucking perfect.
Too late to back out now, Sirius thought. “Can I kiss you, please, Remus?”
Remus paused, then gave a little nod. So Sirius kissed him, and it was everything he imagined it would be. Their lips met in a clash, Sirius moaned a little bit when Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’ waist, and Remus opened his lips, which Sirius took as permission to deepen the kiss and suddenly, they were making out, Remus’ tongue deep in Sirius’ mouth, Sirius giving little moans every time Remus’ teeth scraped against his tongue. Sirius reached up and let his fingers dig into Remus’ hair.
They broke apart after what felt like a wonderful eternity, and Sirius looked up at Remus. “Remus…”
“Me too.”
“What?”
Remus giggled, drunk and beautiful and everything Sirius could ever want. “I love you too, Sirius. Fuck. I love you.”
Sirius was too busy kissing Remus to notice the forty-year-old scowl at him and storm away.
Later that night, back in the hotel room, where James and Peter were sound asleep and Peter was snoring, Remus wouldn’t stop giving Sirius little kisses on the neck.
“Remus,” Sirius whispered between giggles. “Stop. We have to sleep.”
“I can’t,” Remus whispered, a little louder, wrapping his arms around Sirius’ bare chest. “I can’t.”
Sirius decided he should take matters into his own hands. He wrapped his hands under Remus’ shoulder and hoisted the boy up, only to topple onto him from above. Suddenly it was Sirius’ turn, and he was littering Remus’ perfect collarbone with little kisses, and letting his hand wander under the covers down to where Remus’ legs met, and he was tracing Remus’ jawline with his tongue, and Remus was giving out little moans that sent shivers down Sriius’ spine. Sirius’ hand found what it was looking for, and Remus let out the most beautiful little squeal Sirius had ever heard, so he squeezed, and Remus moaned louder, the sound music to his ears, fuck, Sirius thought, he had to get Remus to keep making those noises, and…
“Mates, I’m really happy you two finally figured it out,” James suddenly said, his voice groggy from sleep, “and I know this resort is all-inclusive, but could you keep it the fuck down, please!”
Remus and Sirius froze, and suddenly Remus’ stomach was tight against Sirius’ chest as he laughed, and Sirius followed suit, each of them rolling up into each other with giggles. Peter didn’t stop snoring.
Sirius, having learned the benefits of dragging a werewolf onto a plane, wrapped his body around Remus’ and let himself fall into the best sleep he’d ever had.