Chapter Text
Look, Remus having a bad day isn’t unusual. Not at all, actually. Chronic back pain combined with insomnia? Yeah, Remus has had his fair share of days that almost broke him down by lunchtime.
He’s handling this particular day very well, if you ask him. He didn’t even seek out James during lunch for an emotional support pep talk that only his husband could muster.
He glances at the clock before stuffing the remaining papers into his backpack. He actually prefers grading at the school to separate worklife and free time and all that crap his therapist tells him, but if he sits in this godforsaken chair for a moment longer, he’ll combust on the spot. Ergonomic chairs, the board tells him.
Clearly, by the fact that Remus feels like he’s about to snap in half, they must be lying.
It’s not even four o'clock yet, but the sky is already painted black, illuminated only by the faint light of the moon.
Remus feels like the year had barely started, and now it is already at its end. Time is weird like that. It seems to be passing faster with every year that goes by. Even more so now that the kids are growing up. God, Teddy is starting school next year.
He shrugs on his coat, buttoning it up fully. It’s painstakingly cold outside, but to the disappointment of both his children and his husband, a single snowflake has yet to fall. England in December can be cruel like that.
Remus locks the classroom as he walks out, wandering into the empty halls. It’s strange that in only an hour, a school can go from busting with life and movement to being eerily still. His footsteps echo in the hall. Only a few classrooms are still being lit by teachers with annoying therapists like him.
If Harry would even let him grade papers. He’s a charmer, that one. All too smart for an eight-year-old. Gets it from his mother. Maybe him too. Definitely not James.
The thought of his husband brightens the car ride at least a little. Eases it. James always does that somehow, makes things sweeter. Warmer. Remus is so used to having it now that he’s not sure how he’d cope without it, the warmth of James Potter.
The front door is unlocked when he reaches it, saving him the trouble of finding the right key among his many, many keys. The smell of cooking envelops him immediately, combined with childish giggles and the tune of Last Christmas echoing into the hall.
“We’re in the kitchen!” James shouts over the music as Remus unlaces his shoes.
James has truly gone bonkers with the decorations this year, ugly Santa sculptures and fairy lights absolutely everywhere. This year’s new additions are Teddy’s slightly demon-looking clay reindeer and Harry’s homemade paper garland he did in school.
It may be a colour explosion, but it’s theirs, so Remus loves it even though it’s headache-inducing.
He only manages to walk half the way to the kitchen before getting full-on tackled by a very enthusiastic toddler.
“Teddy! We’re supposed to ask before we hug people.” James reprimands, turning off the stove for a moment. He mutters to himself as he walks over, shutting off the music on his phone on his way over. “Hi, love.” He smiles, kissing Remus on the cheek.
“Hi.” Remus smiles back, immediately feeling a bit lighter. Teddy squeezes him tighter, threatening Remus to lose feeling in his legs. How can such a small body be so strong?
“But you never ask Dad for permission before hugging him, Papa.” Harry chimes in, equipped with goggles and a childproof knife. He’s wearing an apron Tonks gave him, with ’Santa’s little helper’ printed on the front with glittering, red cursive letters.
He’s always liked helping out, says it makes him feel grown, but Remus is pretty sure there are more onion pieces scattered around the cutting board than on it.
“Because we’re married, sweetheart.” James sighs, crouching to help Remus with the whole clingy toddler situation.
“So, rules just disappear when you get married? But Mom and Mama aren’t married, and they hug all the time without asking.” The boy continues to question, not getting it. Remus almost laughs as his husband takes an exasperated breath, finally getting Teddy to stop cutting the circulation off from Remus’ legs.
“No!” Teddy screams, making a fuss as James grabs him. “Let me go!” His voice sounds desperate, tears prickling his eyes. It makes Remus’ heart clench.
He crouches down to Teddy’s level, ignoring the way it makes his body ache.
“Ask nicely, Teddy,” Remus says, taking Teddy’s tiny wrists in his hands, forcing the boy to look at him. Teddy calms, if only a bit, before nodding.
“Can I hug you, Dad?”
“Yes, you can.” Remus barely gets the sentence out before feeling arms encircling him. It’s gentler this time, softer. Remus puts his arms around the boy, cradling him against his chest, kissing the mop of hair.
”And for your information, Harry, your Papa always has permission to hug me.” Remus says gently.
Harry shrugs, fixes his goggles and resumes his mission of cutting (scattering) the onions.
It looks like Teddy is not planning to let go anytime soon, so he gathers his strength to lift the boy as he stands up.
”What are you making?”
”Empanadas.” James answers, stirring the pan
“How was work?” James asks. “I didn’t see you at lunch.”
“I ate in my classroom. I’m getting behind on grading.” Remus says, noticing that Teddy is starting to slip from his grip. He’s not a baby anymore and should probably be weaned off from being carried.
It’s just that neither of his fathers dislikes carrying him, the opposite, really, and the little gremlin knows it.
Remus hoists Teddy back up with a shrug, readjusting. His back is screaming at him, but Teddy puts his legs around him this time, so Remus manages with only a wince or two.
James, of course, notices. He always does. Remus would consider it creepy if he weren’t madly in love with him.
“Bad day?”
“I’m managing.” Remus grits out.
“Why are you feeling bad, Dad?” Harry asks, pushing his goggles onto his head. It makes his hair spike up all wide and crazy, and there are dents left on his face where they used to sit. He looks absolutely ridiculous.
“Nothing for you to worry about.” Remus chides, momentarily shifting Teddy so he can ruffle Harry’s hair. It’s not like he can ruin his kid’s hair more.
“I’m not five, Dad.” Harry puts his hands on his hips defiantly.
“No, you’re eight.”
“And a half!”
“Right, and a half.” Remus chuckles. “I’m just tired, okay? I’ll be alright, sweetheart.”
“Promise?” Harry stretches out a pinky. Remus is aware that to his kids, especially Harry, pinky promises are something sacred. The pinnacle of trust. Quite silly, how the interlocking of fingers can mean so much to another human being.
“Promise,” Remus reassures his son and interlinks their pinkies for a moment. Teddy starts squirming in his arms at the loss of contact, but quickly stills when both Remus’ hands are on him again. “What’s wrong, bud?”
“Papa is mean,” Teddy whispers against his chest. “I want chocolate.”
Yeah, Teddy is Remus’s son.
“And did Papa say no?” Remus asks, hand smothering the younger boy's hair. He could use a bath soon.
Teddy hums in response, before pouting at his father.
“I said no for a reason, Teddy.” James exhales, sounding like they’ve already had this conversation before Remus came home.
“I don’t want to clean my room!” Teddy refuses, growing more irritated by the second.
“No cleaning, no chocolate,” James says, turning to the stove again.
Teddy unlatches himself from Remus’ chest and looks up at his father with big, tearful eyes. God, these kids know how to pull on his heartstrings.
“How about I help you clean, okay?” Remus suggests. He looks over to James, raising his eyebrows in question.
James nods, so Remus leaves the kitchen to help Teddy tidy the mess.
There are toys all over the floor, Legos scattered in the bed, and crayons covering the desk. It takes a while, Remus letting Teddy do most of the cleaning, but helping with what Teddy can’t reach or when he’s tired of a specific task.
After it’s tidied up, Teddy immediately puts the entire crayon kit out on the desk again, the crayons rolling everywhere. Remus doesn’t even flinch, just stares at his son, before deciding the discussion isn’t worth it. He kisses Teddy’s temple and reminds him that dinner will be ready soon, before walking out of the room.
James is still in the kitchen, but cleaning up as the empanadas are in the oven.
Remus walks over, embracing his husband from behind, letting his head rest in the crook of the other man’s neck. James smells like eucalyptus and whatever spice is in the food. He smells like home.
“Are you sniffing me?” James huffs, a grin growing on his face.
“Maybe.” Remus hums, burying himself deeper. He’ll never get enough of this, enough of James.
“Pervert.”
“What’s a pervert?” Harry shouts from the dining table, where he was previously engrossed in his homework.
“Stop eavesdropping, you little menace!” James shouts back, but smiles all the same.
“What should we do with them, huh?” He asks Remus.
“It’s not too late to sell them on the black market. Or use them as organ banks.” Remus quips, detaching from James with one last kiss on the neck.
“Last time Teddy overheard you saying that, I had to convince him for half an hour you weren’t going to sell him off to strangers.” James deadpans.
“I’m sure one of my students would pay a hefty sum,” Remus says, leaning against the counter. Remus wishes he spent more time in the kitchen. It’s beautiful with brown cabinets and dozens of magnets on the fridge. Remus can’t cook for the life of him, so the two reasons he visits the room are either at an ungodly hour to make himself some tea or to annoy his husband.
“You’re showing them baby pics too?” James smiles, shoving Remus’s shoulder with his own.
“I’m not, but since someone told them we’re married, they understand we share the children too.” Remus had made an effort to keep his private life out of the classroom. Students were there to learn, and Remus got paid to teach, not to gossip. But, alas, with fascinatingly nosy students and an oblivious husband, word got out.
Remus technically hasn’t confirmed it yet, but everybody knows anyway. There are worse rumours to be spread about someone. He would know.
James rolls his eyes at him before the timer goes off.
“Could you set the table, love?” He asks, looking all cute and cosy in mittens as he prepares to take out the reeking food.
Remus nods in agreement, turning to get some plates out of the cabinets. They’re placed on the highest shelf because having a toddler rummaging around with their plates isn’t ideal, so he has to stretch to get them. He gets a sudden flash of pain in his lower back, and he can’t stop the sound escaping him.
James, like a hawk, shoots him a raised eyebrow. His eyes are soft in pity as he sets down the food.
“Take a nap after dinner,” James demands.
“I’m not eighty.” Remus snaps back.
“You sure?” James eyes Remus’ clothing. Remus looks down at the maroon jumper he’s wearing, the woollen socks on his feet. He looks like one of those models in knitting magazines.
“That’s not the point,” Remus says, pointing at his husband. “I’ll be fine without a nap.”
“How much did you sleep tonight?”
“That’s not important.” Remus eyes James in warning. He hates discussing this. Hates how James always notices when he’s feeling weird or hasn’t gotten enough sleep.
To be completely honest, he doesn’t hate it at all. But it’s easier to pretend he does than to get all soppy and tell James how it actually makes him feel.
Loved.
“How much, Remus?” James nags.
“Two hours, give or take.”
James’s smile drops. He’s just about to go on a rant about how Remus’ doctor has told him he needs extra sleep when he’s feeling bad and how his lack of sleep impacts his mental health and all that crap. Poppy is a lovely woman, really, but James takes her way too seriously.
“Fine, I’ll take a nap!” Remus surrenders, throwing his hands up in the air before James can even start.
“Great,” James says, grinning like a madman again.
“I’m divorcing you.” Remus sighs.
“Sure you are,” James responds, taking the plates from Remus’s grip. He kisses him on the cheek, then leaves the room with a wink.
Remus loves him.
Remus wakes up to the weight of a toddler throwing itself at his chest. A startled noise rips out of him as he’s being shaken by tiny hands.
“Dad, wake up!” Teddy squeals, pushing on Remus’ shoulder. “It’s snowing, Dad!”
The door, which was previously ajar, gets slammed up by a panting, clearly irritated James Lupin Potter.
“Edward Remus Lupin Potter, let go of your father immediately!” He manages, still clutching a hand over his heart as he catches his breath.
Teddy responds by promptly letting go of Remus, but instead opts for the approach of jumping up and down on the bed.
“It’s snowing, Dad! You need to be awake so we can play!” The boy tells him as if it’s a fact, and not an option. “You promised we’d play in the snow.”
“Teddy, your dad is resting. Why don’t we go down to drink that hot chocolate I made you, bud?” James walks towards them, grabbing Teddy’s wrist. The boy struggles against the restraint, looking at Remus in utter panic.
“It’s okay, James.” Remus manages, sitting up against the bedframe. He immediately mourns losing some of the heat from the duvet. The said duvet is almost headache-inducing, being plastered with prints of candy canes, gingerbread houses, Santas and snowmen. The sheer puppy look James had given him in the store made him accept his husband's lack of taste. Remus is too much of a goner for his own good.
James doesn’t let go of his son, instead taking a firmer hold of the boy's waist, sitting down on the side of the bed, making Teddy begrudgingly sit in his lap.
“Are you sure?” James whispers, ignoring Teddy’s struggling.
Remus nods and draws a collecting breath, chucking off the duvet completely and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed in one swift motion.
James releases the boy, letting him roam free in the room as he impatiently waits for his fathers.
“Come on, Dad! I want to make a snowman.”
“There’s not enough snow for that yet, Teddy.” A new voice informs, standing in the doorframe. Harry is already all clad up in his jacket, mittens, and sporting his blue and green striped hat.
“A tiny one?” The smaller boy pouts at his older brother.
“Maybe.”
“Could you help your brother get dressed, Harry? Your Papa and I will be down in a minute.” Remus says, reaching for proper pants. He doubts his worn out pyjama pants will suffice if it’s cold enough for it not only to be snowing, but also the snow not immediately melting as it hits the ground.
Harry agrees, reaching out a hand for Teddy to take. Hand in hand, they leave the room, Teddy talking animatedly about what he wishes to do when they get outside.
Remus shrugs on one of James’ old sweaters. It’s a bit short on the arms, but it’s comfortable.
“Are you absolutely, one hundred per cent sure you want to go outside? I know the cold makes it worse.” James questions, standing up from the bed.
“Yes.” Remus sighs, walking over to kiss his husband on the forehead. It’s chaste, a fleeting moment, but he hopes it conveys what Remus truly feels for the all too worried man in front of him. “Stop fussing. I’ll just sit and watch, if that makes you feel better.”
“Okay.” James breathes, running a hand through his hair. It stands up in all the wrong places, like it usually does. It’s unfairly cute.
The screams of a duo of impatient kids make Remus snap out of his lovesick trance.
“We should probably get dressed.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Neither of them moves for a couple of seconds, and the two just admire this moment. The domesticity of it all. If someone had told fifteen-year-old Remus he’d be married to James Potter and raising two kids with him, his ex-girlfriend and his best friend, he would have laughed in their face at the ridiculousness of it all. Life is truly strange like that.
“Come on!” Teddy whines from the foot of the stairs.
“We’re on our way,” James calls back, and leaves the room with one last glance at Remus. He cocks his head towards the direction of the gremlins.
Remus follows. He’ll always follow James.
“Here you are.” James sits down next to him on the bench, handing over a cup of hot chocolate.
“Thank you.” Remus mumbles, clutching it firmly in his hands. The warmth of it slips through his mittens as he brings it towards his lips. The sweet taste fills him up, just warm enough to be pleasant, but not enough to burn.
He turns to gaze at his husband. He’s wearing a thick coat, cheeks rosy from the cold. He too takes a sip, the “#1 teacher” print facing outwards.
James is truly beautiful. Most people would properly describe him as handsome, or even something as gruesome as hot. The truth is, no word in any language through all mankind can do James justice. He’s more than how the Greeks described their gods, more than every poet's definition of true beauty. He’s everything, his James.
After almost six years of dating, five of them spent married, Remus still feels like a teenager when he looks at James. His lips will quirk without intending to, his stomach filling with butterflies he wasn’t aware his body could produce at this age.
Sometimes James will catch him gazing at him and quirk one of those bushy eyebrows at him, like he doesn’t understand why Remus would ever look at him. Remus doesn’t understand how he’s ever supposed to be able to look away.
Turns out, this is one of those moments.
“What are you looking at?” James huffs, glancing sideways at Remus.
“You.” He answers, refusing to stop looking. He takes another sip of his chocolate, savouring the sweetness. He hopes it at least partially hides his blush.
By the way James looks at him, he’s pretty sure it doesn’t do a good enough job.
“Have I ever told you I love you?” Remus whispers over the brim of the drink.
“You’ve mentioned it.”
Remus scoffs, rolling his eyes. So much for being a romantic.
The kids are chasing each other in the thin layer of snow coating the ground. There are clumps of it stuck in their hats, their coats most likely soaked through.
They’re both smiling so brightly they might actually burst.
Harry whispers something in Teddy’s ear, and the two of them giggle. Clearly up to mischief, the two of them. Remus and James had absolutely no influence in that.
Remus feels James' thigh pressing against his own, laying his clothed hand on it. Remus grabs it without a second thought.
“I love you too,” James tells him.
“I know.”
James is just about to take a new swig before being hit with a cold, white ball of snow square in the face.
Remus snorts in surprise as his husband unlaces their fingers to wipe at his face. He eyes Remus, as if that reaction is the utmost of betrayals, before turning to look towards the laughing mess of tiny bodies hiding behind their apple tree.
“You little shits!” He shouts, shoving his mug into Remus’ hands. James runs down the front porch’s stairs, stretching his arms out as he jogs towards his children.
Harry and Teddy shriek, running away from their father, their smiles somehow growing even larger as they laugh.
“You won’t be laughing anymore when I catch you!” James shouts.
Remus looks at his family from the wooden bench, watching as James gets a hold of the pair. He burrows his head in their necks before gently dropping them in the snow.
Sometimes the bad days can be the best.