Chapter Text
The first time the sandy-haired boy came in, it was early in the hot July afternoon, the store was devoid of any customers, and Sirius was aching for something to do and someone to talk to who wasn’t the cardboard cutout of a Muggle at the cash desk. “Doing alright today?” he asked exuberantly, bounding over to the front of the store, his most enthusiastic smile glowing on his aristocratic features. The boy’s answering smile was tired, an expression that seemed somehow too old for his young features, and he nodded politely. “Were you looking for anything in particular? We’re having a sale on cardigans this week.”
“I’m just browsing right now,” the boy replied amiably, his voice quiet, eyes fixed on the shop’s interior, “but thank you.”
Feeling dismissed but trying not to show his disappointment, Sirius attempted a jaunty grin. “Sure. If you need anything, just let me know.”
He went back to the table of shirts he had been folding, watching the boy wander the store, watching his gaze drift over skinny jeans and denim cut-off shorts, watching his pale fingers drag over the t-shirts and jumpers. He watched him weave in and out of the sale racks, holding up cardigans and scarves for a moment’s consideration before carefully replacing them. By the time the boy left, an hour had passed, and the shirts Sirius had been folding were in a considerably worse state than they’d been before he touched them.
“Sirius,” Claire said, her throaty voice filled with reproach as she peered over at him with a disdainful frown on her glossy pink lips, “why don’t you restock some of the jewellery instead of… whatever it is you’re trying to do.” It was clearly not a request. Huffing irritably, Sirius abandoned the lopsided pile of shirts and ran to the back to get more bracelets, the quiet boy mostly forgotten.
The next day, a little later on in the evening, Sirius was once again folding shirts, a look of intense concentration on his face as he wished fervently that he was old enough to do magic outside of school. Then again, if wizards ran the store, there wouldn’t be any real need for them to hire Sirius, which was the whole reason why he was working at a Muggle clothes shop in the first place.
The sound of the door opening and closing drew Sirius’s excited attention, and he was curious to see it was the same sandy-haired boy. He noticed this time that the boy had a faint scar on his cheek, a thin white line running from his nose to right under his ear. “Anything I can help you with today?” Sirius prompted enthusiastically, dropping the shirt he was holding into an unceremonious blob of fabric.
“Thank you, but I’m just looking,” the boy said, with the same tired smile. Sirius also noticed the way the boy avoided his eyes, as well as his unusual tallness.
“Well, let me know if you need anything, then,” Sirius said, trying not to stare.
-
It became something of a routine. Every day in the afternoon, give or take a few hours, the boy came in, turned down Sirius’s offer of assistance (which grew less and less hopeful and more and more perfunctory by the day), and browsed for about an hour before leaving empty-handed. As the summer progressed, the shop began to get busier, and often Sirius found himself involved with another customer when the strange boy walked in. Very rarely, the boy would try something on, but he always returned it neatly to where he’d found it. Still, after a couple weeks, Sirius began to grow inexplicably irritated.
“Did he come in yesterday?” Sirius asked Claire, who rolled her eyes pointedly.
“He did,” she answered dryly, examining her nails.
“Did he buy anything?”
“Nope.”
Sirius let out a sharp huff. “Every day! He comes in, walks around, touches stuff, and leaves. Why bother if he’s never going to get anything?”
Claire eyed Sirius with a cool mixture of disinterest and annoyance. “Why are you so obsessed? At least he doesn’t leave a mess for us to clean up.”
Sirius threw his hands in the air dramatically as an answer, and then stormed off to angrily tidy perfectly folded stacks of jeans, purposefully ignoring Claire’s long sigh.
For once, lost in his own inner rantings, he didn’t hear the sound of the door, or the soft sound of footsteps behind him, until there was a soft throat-clearing sound at his side, and Sirius jumped, knocking over one of the piles. The boy stood by him, looking apologetic and uncertain. “Er, sorry to startle you,” he said, looking at the toppled jeans nervously.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Sirius blurted, gracelessly condensing them into an even messier pile before giving it a reassuring pat. “How can I help you?”
“Well…” The boy looked up at Sirius, meeting his gaze for the first time, and Sirius stared mesmerised at the boy’s honey-coloured eyes. He realised after a long moment of silence that the boy had probably asked him a question.
“Sorry, er, what was that?”
“I’m looking for a few long-sleeved shirts, and my mum told me to get some other colours, besides beige, and I’m not very good at picking colours. Would you mind helping me?” Sirius thought it really said something about the boy, that he was willing to repeat all that without the slightest hint of pique or exasperation in his tone.
“Of course,” he said brightly. “You’ve come to the right bloke; I’m brilliant with colours. First, let’s see about this red one.” He bustled the boy over to the table he’d been attempting to straighten that very first afternoon, and thankfully its most recent tidying was from a different employee: the shirts were all neatly folded and stacked by colour and size. Sirius grabbed one that was a deep crimson, a colour he was quite fond of, and held it up to the boy for the briefest of moments before dropping it and picking up a different size. “You’re way too tall for that one,” Sirius said. “This one will probably work better for you. Oh, and a nice blue. I don’t really know if you need my help at all; almost any of these colours will look good on you,” he added jokingly, pulling a couple more colours before herding the boy into a fitting room. “Let me know what you think. My name’s Sirius; just holler if you need a different size in anything.
“I’m Remus,” the boy said automatically, sounding rather overwhelmed. “Th-thanks…”
Sirius ended up having to assist other customers while Remus tried on the shirts, but by some stroke of luck he managed to be available as Remus slipped out, the shirts all perfectly folded in his arms. “How’d you like them?” Sirius asked cheerfully.
“They were very comfortable,” Remus replied. “I’m going to get these top three…” He trailed off, as Sirius had already picked up the three shirts (the crimson, navy, and jade green ones.)
“Brilliant, I’ll drop these off with Claire, and she’ll ring you up, and then I’ll put these other ones away for you.” With his free hand, he took the remaining shirts and led Remus to the cash desk, laying the three in front of her before zooming off to put the others back.
When he returned, Remus was handing Claire some Muggle money. “Thanks a lot for your help, Sirius,” he said with a shy smile, and the way his name sounded in Remus’s voice somehow brought a subtle heat to Sirius’s cheeks.
“Any time.”
As Sirius watched Remus amble out of the shop, he heard Claire make an odd noise behind him.
“So…” she said curiously, “you queer then?”
Sirius considered for a moment. “Might be, a little, yeah. What of it?”
“Might be a little disappointed,” she sighed, and Sirius let out a bark-like laugh.
-
The day after, Sirius waited patiently for Remus to return. The afternoon was a slow, rainy one, and very few people came in to shop. He strolled around the tables and racks, straightening up here and there, ignoring Claire’s piercing stare whenever he attempted to fold anything. Any time he had to go to the stock room, he hurried, wanting to be near the front to greet Remus when he came in.
But the sun finally set, and Claire began to close up shop. Sirius stared mournfully out the shop windows, watching the nearly full moon glow in the sky, wondering at the feeling of disappointment settling in his chest.
-
A full week passed before Remus appeared in the shop again, looking pale and drawn, dark smudges beneath his eyes, with skin almost translucent. His normal greeting stuck in his throat, and instead, Sirius asked, “Are you okay?”
Remus looked at him with a modicum of surprise on his tired features. “I’m fine, Sirius. Thanks. Just been a bit under the weather.” The dark-haired boy smiled, inexplicably pleased Remus had remembered his name.
“Well, glad you’re feeling up to coming by. Any shopping today? Perhaps some jeans to go with those shirts?” He drank in the sight of Remus’s amused smile and the way his wavy hair swept side to side when he shook his head.
“Just coming in to browse,” he said softly, and Sirius shrugged.
“Alright then. You know where to find me.”
-
They made small talk almost every time Remus came in, and once in a while, Sirius would persuade Remus to try on a new cardigan or pair of trousers. Even when helping other customers, he would try to make time to at least say hello and see how Remus was doing. He also would casually mention his days off during their little discourses, so that Remus wouldn’t be surprised to come in and not find Sirius.
Claire seemed both amused and exasperated by Sirius’s new crush. “Why don't you just ask him to coffee and be done with it?” she demanded one day, seconds after Remus had disappeared out the door.
“What if he doesn't like coffee? What if he doesn't like me? What if he's straight?” The questions tumbled out in a swell of panic, and Claire looked rather taken aback, suddenly eyeing Sirius with some concern.
“Asking him to coffee doesn't obligate either of you to get coffee. If he didn't like you, he probably wouldn't be coming in every day to talk to you. And if he's straight, then he's straight, and you'll be his friend and move on.”
Sirius collapsed dramatically against the counter. “What would I do without you?” he whimpered, grey eyes shining up at her. She flicked him dispassionately on the forehead.
“Be unemployed.”
-
Sirius was a mess the next day, his folding worse than even when he'd started, to the point where Claire explicitly forbade him from touching anything, instructing him to do nothing but assist customers. Luckily, there were only a few of those, and Sirius got to spend most of his time pelting Claire with anxious “what-if”s, which, to her credit, she answered with minimal sarcasm.
When Remus finally walked in, Sirius took a breath, summoned his inner Gryffindor, and strode purposefully up to him, tripping over a maxi dress he’d “tidied” earlier, knocking them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Sirius distantly heard Claire’s snort behind Remus’s yelp of surprise, and decided that this was still perfectly fine.
“Remus,” he said, looking down at his wide amber eyes, “would you like to get a coffee with me tomorrow?”
He watched the boy’s expression carefully, seeing the shock register on his pale face. To his consternation, however, Remus began to laugh, a full-throated laugh that sent tingles down Sirius’s spine. “How you can sound so dignified...” Remus choked out with a shake of his head. He extricated himself from beneath the dark-haired boy, standing up and offering him a pale, slender hand. Pulling Sirius to his feet, Remus smiled shyly. “I don't… Well, that is…” He fidgeted a little bit, and every hesitation was like a little jab into Sirius’s chest, but he waited silently. “Sirius, I…” And as he met Sirius’s nervous gaze, something shifted behind his eyes. “I… Sure, I would love to get coffee with you tomorrow.”
All of Sirius’s breath escaped in a rush, leaving him light-headed as he beamed jubilantly at Remus, who stood frozen, almost as though he couldn’t believe the words he’d spoken. “Alright, then, er, it’s my day off, so I can meet you at the coffee shop round the block at, er, maybe 3?”
“3 is good for me,” Remus confirmed, having regained enough of his composure to grin delightedly at Sirius. “I’ll guess I’ll see you then.”
“Yes, you will,” Sirius said breathlessly, feeling like he could float away as he watched Remus leave the shop. Silence echoed in his absence, permeated only by the ambient soundtrack of soft chimes and cricket chirps. “He said yes,” he whirled around to tell Claire.
“I heard,” she monotoned, but then offered him a sly smirk. “Looks like you’ve got a date tomorrow.”
“I've got a date tomorrow!” he repeated elatedly.
-
Sirius was not normally one to be early, yet somehow he found himself at the cafe at quarter after two, not entirely sure how it had happened. Lily, of all people, had helped him pick out some suitable Muggle clothes (he didn’t think “work clothes” were appropriate as “date clothes,) as James was rather useless in that area, though he was very distressed to learn that Lily had been at Sirius’s flat. (“Sorry, Prongs, but she said she wouldn’t come if you were there…”) She’d dressed him in dark, ripped denim, black combat boots, and a royal blue tank top, and while he felt rather attractive, he also felt naked without his wand, lacking a place to hide it. He paced up and down the sidewalk a few feet, trying to calm himself down. After a few minutes, though, he realised he looked a bit mad, and so he sat down at one of the outdoor tables, grabbing the newspaper the last patron had left there.
It only took him about fifteen seconds to give up on the newspaper, as he found Muggle news so boring. The pictures didn’t even move. “How do you lot even live like this?” he asked the still photo of the prime minister on the front page.
“Live like what?”
The voice came from behind him, and Sirius nearly fell out of his chair in his haste to whip his head around. Remus smiled back at him.
“Live like, er, like, it’s so hot, and he’s wearing… all that,” Sirius said lamely, gesturing to the prime minister’s suit.
“It’s probably air conditioned there, though,” Remus pointed out, and Sirius laughed nervously, recognising the term as one the realtor had used when describing features of his flat, but not remembering what it actually was. “I thought I’d get here early," Remus continued. "Didn’t realise you’d be here even earlier.”
Sirius grasped gratefully at the change in subject. “Yeah, I don’t really know how that happened. I’m usually late wherever I go, but I think the clock in my flat is off.”
Remus’s smile turned a little confused. “You don’t use your mobile?”
Merlin’s balls . Sirius opened and closed his mouth, thinking furiously. “I, er, don’t have one,” he said finally, an apologetic note in his voice. “Just like to, er, keep things simple… I guess.” He gave another nervous laugh. Remus grinned, which helped relieve the knot of tension that was forming in Sirius’s stomach.
“I can understand that. Let’s go order, shall we?”
Sirius nodded enthusiastically, leaping from his seat and walking with Remus into the shop, where they were met with a welcome blast of cool air. Something in his brain clicked into place, and he had to stifle the “Aha!” that bubbled up in his throat. Air conditioned. He sighed, hoping he could muddle his way through Muggle talk having only taken one year of Muggle Studies. Remus was ordering a mocha, and Sirius watched as he handed the barista some Muggle money, a single note with a 5 on it. When it was his turn, he ordered a cup of Darjeeling before rummaging around in his wallet to find the same note to hand to the barista. Crisis safely averted, he took his change with gratitude and waited with Remus for their drinks.
“I was nervous you were going to say no when I asked you,” Sirius stated openly, shoving his change into his wallet in a crumpled wad, silently cursing the strange paper money. Remus fidgeted slightly.
“Actually, I was going to say no,” he said, but his tone was light. “I don’t usually… Well, I mostly keep to myself. But considering you pinned me down and asked, I figured you wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Sirius couldn’t help but laugh.
“I swear I’m not usually so clumsy. Normally I’m quite graceful.”
“I know.” Remus looked startled by his own words and turned a delicate shade of pink, and Sirius couldn’t contain the thrill of joy that hummed through him, saved from responding by the appearance of their drinks. They sat down at one of the tables inside the cafe, and now that Sirius was feeling a little more settled, he took a moment to appreciate the soft acoustic soundtrack playing in the background amid the low murmur of voices. “Do you often befriend the shop’s customers?” Remus asked curiously.
Sirius shook his head, carefully noting Remus’s word choice. “I actually started there only a week or two before that first time I saw you come in. It’s just a summer job; I’ll be back to, er, boarding school in September. You’re actually the first friend I’ve made outside of school.”
The smile on Remus’s face was quickly hidden by his cup as he took a sip. “Sounds like fun, going to boarding school. My parents decided to homeschool me.” An odd expression came over his features, and Sirius resisted the urge to pry. It was probably too soon for that.
“It’s pretty fun, yeah. I’m a bit of a trouble-maker, to be perfectly honest.” His tone was nonchalant, but held a tinge of pride as well, and the grin he shot Remus was accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” Remus leaned back in his chair, expression still a little distant. “Let me guess. Parents had enough of your trouble making and made you get this summer job?”
Sirius’s jaw clenched, and Remus visibly tensed in response, as though he realised he’d said the wrong thing. Breathe , Sirius told himself, and swallowed, attempting a careless shrug. “Almost. I sort of ran away last summer, and while I was at school I got an ow--- ah, a letter informing me I was disinherited. I was living with my best mate’s parents, but I didn’t want to be a burden on them for another summer, so I got my own place.” The grin came a little easier now. “The job is actually pretty fun. Claire is nice, too, when you get to know her. She won’t let me near the money, though. Not very good with it.”
“Not very good at folding, either, if we’re being honest,” Remus teased, and Sirius laughed.
“I may have grown up a little spoiled,” he admitted sheepishly, thinking of Kreacher.
They talked for over an hour, with an ease that seemed to surprise both of them. They probably could’ve continued talking without a second thought, but Remus suddenly began giving off vibrating sounds. “Oh, sorry, mum’s calling,” he said, looking abashed, but Sirius just gave a small wave of encouragement to hide his confusion, sitting back to watch Remus talk into his little glass and metal slab, trying not to let his wonder at Muggle technology show on his face.
When Remus put the… thing… back into his pocket, he looked up apprehensively. “Mum wants me to head home,” he said, his tone apologetic. “I’ve had a really nice time, though. I’d ask for your number, but, considering you don’t have a mobile…”
“I’ll give you my address,” offered Sirius, and Remus readily agreed, producing a pen from his pocket to write it on a napkin. They parted cheerfully, Remus disappearing into the crowd as Sirius watched him go. Once the boy was completely out of sight, Sirius did a joyful little dance before hurrying home.
James was waiting on the couch for him, lanky body sprawled over its entirety, immersed in watching the little TV Sirius had bought on a whim. “How’d your date go with the boy you never told me about until yesterday ?” he asked sharply, and Sirius grinned, throwing himself on top of James and resting his head on his friend’s chest.
“It was amazing,” he gushed. “Well, actually, yes, it was amazing, but he did mention the word ‘friend’ a few times, so it may not have been a real date.” James squirmed and wriggled until he found a more comfortable spot beneath Sirius’s chin and knees and hips, then let out a quiet sigh.
“Is he straight? Wait, don’t answer that question. Even straight blokes can still fall for Sirius Black. All hope is not lost.”
“Prongs, what’s a mobile?”
“Some Muggle invention.”
Sirius pressed his forehead against James’s cheek. “I know that . But what is it?”
“Got me. Now hush, this is interesting.” Sirius let out a long-suffering sigh, settling in to watch the TV.