Chapter Text
Sirius Black
Thursday, August 31st, 2023
Sirius Black is one of the top F1 racers in the league at the moment, with only two races until the final. Not only is he one of the best drivers in the league, but he’s the best driver the Red Bull team has ever had racing for them, especially at such a young age, 23. His best friend, James Potter, is his own personal mechanic and knows his way around Sirius’s car more than Sirius does himself.
“God, Prongs, these leather pants are awful for racing”, Sirius chokes out around his cigarette, squinting up at the sun that’s sticking the material to his legs. “Have I ever told you how much I hate Los Angeles?”
James wheels out from under the car, tossing his screwdriver and looking at Sirius through fogged-up lenses.
“Socket wrench, please”, he blurts, rolling back under the Camaro once Sirius places it in his hand. “And yes, you have, countless times”.
The two sit in silence for a few minutes while James tinkers away and Sirius repeatedly opens and closes his lighter.
With a groan, Sirius breaks the silence and complains, “Why can’t you be my league mechanic, Jamie? You fix my car but I know you could do wonders on the cars that I race. Definitely better than those pit stop mechanics that never get me out of the box as quickly as those stupid Ferrari boys”.
“Padfoot,” James protests, smearing oil just below his hairline, “If you’re just going to complain while I’m trying to fix your car, send Peter out here to help me so I can actually get something done. You know that I would be on the crew if I could, I just can’t afford to be traveling all over the place to do so.”
Sirius huffs and rocks back against the bench under him, running a pale hand through his damp, inky curls.
“Alright, I replaced the front fender liners even though you didn’t really need them”, James pants, “your right rear tire also had a screw stuck in it, don’t know how you managed that, but that was definitely the reason it kept losing air so quickly.”
James shuts his toolbox and sits on the bench next to Sirius, elbows on his knees.
Sirius beams, throwing an ink-covered arm around him and chirping, “Thanks, Jamie!”, spinning his keyring around his index finger, “Will I see you in a couple weeks for the final?”
“Of course you will, I’m also gonna be there the Saturday before for qualifiers,” James smiles.
“This is why you’re my favorite, Prongs,” Sirius smirks.
He looks at his shiny black car and runs his fingertips over the hood.
“No, this is why I’m your only, now get out of my garage, Sirius,” James remarks, wiping his glasses clean with a cloth, looking back at Sirius for a moment with a teasing grin.
“I’m going! I’m going!” Sirius chuckles with his hands up in defense, opening his car door and settling into the dark leather seat.
The engine hums, and Sirius feels his heartbeat fall steady with the gentle sputtering, pulling out of his best friend’s garage.
Remus Lupin
Remus Lupin is going through it, to say the least.
Currently, he’s working a part-time job at a nearby gas station. He’s living in his best friend's house, smoking a pack a day, and he’s nearly been fired twice this week for arguing with customers. Mind you, it’s only Thursday.
Today, his best friend, Marlene, is the one who wakes him up, telling him that she’s off to work and that he’d better get up if he wants a ride to work, so he does.
With a groan, he drags himself out of bed and pulls on a gray t-shirt from his laundry bin.
“You have 20 minutes before I leave and you have to walk to work!” Marlene yells from the living room, obviously not seeing the eye roll that Remus responds with. However, he does decide to get a move on.
As he brushes his teeth, he has a hard time looking in the mirror. Tracing his eyes over his tanned, freckled skin, he can’t help but follow the lines of thick silver scars peppering his face and neck. Remus closes his eyes and tries to combat his flooding memory.
The last thing that Remus hears is a crash before he blacks out completely. When he wakes up, he’s in a dingy hospital bed with paper-thin sheets and fluorescent lights humming around him, overwhelming his not-yet-adjusted senses. The muted blue hospital gown is stuck to his body with an uncomfortable sweat, and his eyes can’t seem to fully adjust. As he gazes around the room, he sees monitors and tubes connected over his entire body, closed shutters and curtains, a vase of wilting flowers on the table next to him, and a dim light coming from the small crack in the bathroom door.
Slowly, but surely, Remus’ memory begins to flood back. He’s in this hospital because he was in a car crash. Even though his father told him not to, Remus decided to sneak out of the house in order to attend a street race, of which he was utterly convinced he would win. He bet (and lost) his entire savings on this race only to lose control of his car, driving too quickly on a street he didn’t recognize, crashing into and flipping over the side of an overpass. He remembers the way the glass felt in his hands as he tried to break open the windows and the way the jammed seatbelt burned through the fabric on his shoulder.
Once fully adjusted, Remus notices the many bandages covering his body, from his face down to his ankles. Surely it couldn’t be that bad, right? Right? Remus begins to peel back one of the bandages on his forearm to see a deep gash that was beginning to heal. His eyes widen and his breath hitches. He just knows this will scar. Remus prays that not all the bandages are covering wounds like this one, but soon learns that his prayers were not answered.
Remus opens his eyes and sighs, a bit of toothpaste dripping from the corner of his mouth. It’s been almost two years since his accident, but he refuses to talk about it with anyone, especially a therapist, which his dad recommended. Remus was fine; he didn’t need to talk about it, and why did everyone keep telling him he should?
Sliding on his Converse, Remus grabs his carton of cigarettes, his name tag for work, and a half-eaten granola bar that may or may not be from a week ago.
“Marlene, I’m ready, let’s go,” Remus says with a full mouth.
Marlene gives him a once-over, giving him a look when her eyes land on his stained work polo.
“Looking absolutely ravishing, Rem, as always,” she chuckles.
Remus rolls his eyes but pulls open the front door and waves his hand as a signal for Marlene to go first.
“A true gentleman,” she teases.
Remus only huffs in response and shuts the door behind them. They drive for a while, only listening to the music on their favorite retro station.
Oh yeah
Marlene turns down the music slightly and sighs, mouth falling open and then closing as if refraining from saying something. Remus turns to lock eyes with her as if to say, “out with it”, and she sighs again.
“So, Remus, you know Dorcas Meadowes, right?” She asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer, “Well, she called me last night and told me that there’s a group of racers planning to meet up tomorrow night and invited us to go. She said that you’re a shoe-in to race if you’re down.”
Remus scoffs out, “Absolutely not, Marlene, are you crazy? You were there when…that happened.”
“Remus, come on, it’s been almost 2 years since you’ve sat behind the wheel of literally any vehicle, and quite frankly, I’m tired of driving you to work every day when you could very well do it yourself if you’d stop moping about,” she reasons, and immediately realizes her mistake when Remus winces at the end of her sentence.
“What do you mean ‘moping about’ Marlene?! You saw what happened. Everybody knows about it. I could’ve died- no! I almost died! Me being more careful about my choices is not moping around, you wouldn’t understand,” he barks.
Marlene holds up a hand as a sign of surrender, but still says, “God, Remus, you have to get back out there! You loved racing more than you loved literally anything. I swear to God herself that you loved your car more than you love me, and I have known you since the day I picked you for my team in gym class out of pity. Yes, it was pity, because everyone knows you can’t kick a ball straight to save your life, Remus. I know that you’re afraid, but you can’t live like this forever, man. I’m not gonna be able to drive you to and from work like your mother until you retire”.
“Fine, Marlene,” Remus huffs, “I will go to the race with you, but I’m not driving. If I get even slightly bored or uncomfortable, we’re leaving.”
“Yes! Yes, okay!” She exclaims, “deal, Rem, I’ll let Dorcas know we’ll be there.”
What in the world was Remus getting himself into with this? Sure, he was tired of feeling like such a burden to Marlene, no matter how much she insisted that she didn’t mind, but even after two years, it feels too soon to get back into the scene. In and out, just one night, for Marlene, he agrees with himself. He should be fine watching as long as he’s not the one behind the wheel.
Remus can’t help but remember this rush of racing. He was fantastic, too, even without putting thousands of dollars’ worth of modifications on his car. He won nearly every race, saving for college, until that night when he lost all of his savings and his love for driving. That might be what Remus is so afraid of when he thinks of watching the race. Will it remind him just how much he loved it? The smell of exhaust and hum of the engine as the car sits idly, waiting for the signal to go. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, could get Remus behind that wheel again.
The bell on the door chimes as a customer walks in. Remus doesn’t even look up before saying, “Let me know if I can help you with anything”.
He hears the customer hum in response. Remus has been in the store for what feels like days and is just now starting the last hour of his shift. He’s spent all day smoking behind the counter and reading up on the Formula One rankings since his boss left for the day.
From where Remus sits reading, he can hear shuffling and machines whirring around the store. The sound gets closer, and his head snaps up as the customer sets a Red Bull and a bag of M&M’s on the counter.
Remus looks up from the can and bag to see a male figure with the most beautiful curls he has ever seen, put halfway into a bun on top of the man’s head. The man is looking down slightly, his thick eyelashes brushing his cheeks. Remus internally panics, recognizing the man as Sirius Black. He tries to play it cool, of course.
Remus stares for a bit too long, clears his throat, and chokes out, “Is that gonna be all for you?”
“No, actually,” the black-haired man says, “can I get a pack of Marlboro Reds and forty bucks on pump six, please?”.
Remus looks out the window at pump six to see a shiny black Camaro with the darkest tinted windows.
Sirius Black
As the man in front of him gazes out the window and squints his eyes a bit, Sirius lets his eyes roam over his face. The most beautiful freckles. The small slit in his eyebrow with a silver scar running through it.
“That should not be so attractive,” he thinks to himself.
The man’s name tag says “Remus” in capital letters.
Remus Remus Remus
Remus Remus Remus
Remus Remus Remus
Remus states, “Alright, that’s gonna be $62.47 for you,” and smiles slightly at Sirius as he counts the change.
Sirius gathers up his items in his arms and begins walking out before he hears Remus call, “Wait, wait! Do you want a bag?”
He comes to a quick stop in the door frame, sliding on his sunglasses before stuttering, “N-no thanks! Have a great day, Remus”.
Remus Lupin
How did he know my name? How did Sirius Black just know my name?
He watches him walk across the parking lot, setting his items in his seat before lighting up a cigarette and pumping his gas. Remus looks down at his shirt to see his name tag.
Oh
Ohhhhh, okay, that’s how he knew.
Sirius Black
Sirius can feel piercing eyes on him through the window, burning through the back of his head, and he nearly chokes on the smoke he’s inhaling. Hopping in the driver’s seat, he silently concludes that he will never go to a different gas station. If, for some reason, he ends up needing gas every single day, don’t ask him why.