Work Text:
⭐🎅 Click here to sign up for the office Secret Santa 🎅⭐
Sirius hovers his mouse over the link for a moment, a flutter of excitement blossoming in his belly and a grin swelling across his face.
He loves Christmas with his entire heart and soul—and a passion more akin to a small child entering Santa's grotto for the first time than to a grown man who otherwise exudes 'I'm cooler than you could ever hope to be' energy (or so he was told by former colleagues; it's amazing what a black leather jacket, motorbike, and a sleeve of tattoos can achieve).
Well. He has a childhood of miserable, stuffy Christmases to thank for the belated joy he has found in the festive period.
Becoming estranged from his own family and finding a place with the Potters had made him realise so much—that gift-giving is more than an opportunity to criticise one another, that decorations are supposed to be for your own pleasure rather than to impress. That there's an indescribable joy in seeing your chosen name handwritten on a label. That there's such comfort in platefuls of sumptuous food, and that you can taste the love Euphemia Potter had poured into preparing it. That he needed to grieve a childhood of missing such care and consideration from his own parents.
Sirius shakes himself back to the present, to where he is three months into his role as PR & Communications Manager at BEYOND, a charity providing therapy and support to trans young people across South Yorkshire. It's the kind of work that would have been transformative for him as an isolated teenager in an unforgiving household, and it's a privilege to be that lifeline to so many others now.
He has never felt more himself than he has over the last few months; almost all the staff are trans, and the security of being around such acceptance has helped him bloom in this new role. Never before has he known this sense of unparalleled mutual understanding and safety, the immediacy of in-jokes, and the comfort of pure authenticity. Every goddamn day, Sirius thanks his lucky stars for Lily Evans—not only for her part in providing him with the best and cutest godson in the world, but also for scoring him an interview at the charity in the first place, despite the limited experience on his CV. She was one of the first out-and-proud trans people he knew, and Sirius fears he will never be able to put into words how much it meant to him to be seen as himself at a time when that was so daunting.
And now, on 30th November, he is thrilled to know that the fullness of the Sirius Black Christmas Spirit will be accepted here, along with every other part of him. He signs up for the Secret Santa with joy in his heart, then for the Christmas party too.
Fuck, he loves it here.
In fact, there are countless things that Sirius loves about working at BEYOND. And yet every single one of them is eclipsed by the smile of the charity's Counsellor Coordinator, Remus Lupin.
☾
Remus Lupin's desk is directly across from Sirius', which gives him the perfect opportunity for observing (not staring, because that sounds creepy as fuck, Lily), and Sirius has become absolutely smitten with the other man—all through a handful of conversations and an embarrassing number of longing looks.
Today, peering through the gap between his monitor and in-trays, he spies Remus with his head bent over his desk, glasses slipping down his slightly crooked nose. His auburn curls hang loose over his forehead, the apple of his cheeks a little flushed, forehead crinkled as he reads over one of the newest referrals. Up close, Sirius would be able to make out the specific caramel shade of his eyes, the smattering of freckles all over his skin, and the way his teeth have worn at his chapped lips. Remus is in his wheelchair today, with its electric blue wheel spokes and the tiny asexual and trans pride flags tucked into the frame. Remus cycles between using his chair and his canes; the fact that he's in his chair today suggests that it's a bad pain day. Sirius doesn't know the specifics of Remus' disability—and he would never expect Remus to share that with him—but he has gleaned that Remus experiences chronic pain and fatigue.
Through the gap, Sirius watches as Lily nudges Remus and feels a biting envy at the way Remus' mouth quirks into a dimpled smile at whatever she says.
Christ, his smile.
It liquefies the frozen lake that Sirius had placed around his heart, and washes out the poison that had been fed through his veins for so many years. When faced with that smile, Sirius can scarcely recall the cruelties that had once been his daily diet, and instead basks in the glow of knowing that he is enough.
Sirius hasn't had the headspace for flirting with Remus over the last couple of months. Not when he has been so busy trying to resurrect the charity's inactive social media pages, investigate possible funding sources, and publicise the incredible work being done. He has mostly resigned himself to pining from afar, squirrelling away useless details like the precise shade that Remus likes his tea, the way he chews his lips whenever he's reading, and the ever-changing collection of cards on his desk from grateful service-users.
But now, with Christmas galloping towards him and the endless possibilities for flirting that come with the festive season, all that is about to change…
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
He deliberately waits for Remus to be alone in the staff kitchen, silently willing Lily to leave him to finish his lunch (which must be cheese and pickle sandwiches, given that it's a Thursday, and yes, Sirius hears the stalker allegations and says fuck off, Lily) in peace.
The anxiety in his chest reaches an almost alarming intensity as Sirius crosses the threshold of the kitchen, but he can't even begin to explain it to himself. Remus is nice for Christ's sake; that's kind of his whole thing and part of what makes him so good at his job. He has always smiled warmly at Sirius when they've spoken, and has never been anything but polite, thoughtful, and ridiculously fucking cute simply lovely. Besides, it's not like Sirius is going to go straight up and ask him out here and now, regardless of what his silly little heart has decided it wants. He's just going to start a conversation with him, gauge what levels of flirting he can reasonably achieve between now and Christmas itself, and—
Remus looks up from his sandwiches (Sirius might be weirdly observant, but he was right about the cheese!) and his cheeks dimple as he smiles. "Hey, Sirius. Alright?"
The anxiety dissipates almost at once, like a tidal wave crashing through the flimsiest of walls, and the pressure of having a simple conversation with Remus eases. All he needs to do is be himself, be a little charming, and—
"Sandwich!" is what bursts out of his mouth instead, and to his horror, his hand raises of its own accord to point at where Remus has just taken a bite.
Remus' eyebrows shoot up. "Um. Sorry?"
"Fuck. I mean—hello."
"And that came out as 'sandwich'?" Remus' tone is warm, teasing, but not unkind, as he grins up at Sirius.
Sirius shrugs helplessly, feeling his cheeks flush and his brain drain entirely of anything sensible to say in the face of that smile. "Got lunch on the brain, I guess." It comes out a little strangled, but at least it's more than a half-shouted noun.
"Please, don't let me keep you from it," Remus gestures opposite him, still smiling in that lovely way. "I would never want to be accused of getting between a man and his sandwiches."
Sirius gulps a breath, even though his throat has suddenly gone desert-dry and threatens to choke him mid-swallow, and sinks into the proffered seat. He takes out his own lunch, which isn't even a goddamn sandwich, and risks a glance at Remus.
Remus is looking at him curiously, head tilted to one side. "Are you alright, Sirius?"
His tone is so gentle and inviting that it seems to coax back the tiniest part of Sirius' sanity, and Sirius manages his own smile in response. "Yes, sorry—busy morning, you know?"
"Yeah, it's definitely coming up to our most hectic time of year," Remus says, voice heavy. He rolls backwards to throw his rubbish into the bins, then wheels back to the table with a sigh. "So many young people struggle over the holiday season..." His gaze goes a little distant, and there's a pause as if he has more to say, but the silence hangs between them. Sirius swallows down where Remus' words have triggered his own memories of struggling with the Christmas period, and forces himself to focus instead on what a fantastic segue Remus has given him.
"Speaking of Christmas," he clears his throat. "I got the email this morning—will you be signing up for the office Secret Santa?"
Remus' gaze flicks back to Sirius. "No," Remus says, and there's something sharp in his tone—for the first time, Sirius glimpses the steeliness that must serve Remus well when dealing with abusive parents and ignorant healthcare professionals.
"Oh," Sirius feels more than a little wrong-footed, and the anxiety trickles back into his lungs at the sense that he's fucked up and missed something somewhere. "The Christmas party then? It's nice that they're doing it in—"
"Nope," Remus says, and there's a definite frostiness now that feels so unRemus-like that Sirius is entirely clueless about what he's supposed to say next.
Sirius opens his mouth, closes it again to contain the mounting stress.
Remus pushes away from the table, rolling himself back towards the office without looking at Sirius. "I don't do Christmas," he says quietly, and the words land like Remus has dropped a bucket of ice-cold water on his head.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
"I just don't understand what I did wrong," Sirius says, in what is absolutely not a wail, but merely a dignified noise of distress.
He had spent almost the entire afternoon fixated on that interaction, trying to identify where exactly he had messed up to the extent that Remus had left the room to avoid continuing their conversation. True, some people don't enjoy Christmas, and their organisation certainly has a lot of individuals for whom Christmas holds painful memories, but that was surely part of the point of making new memories. At least, that was the joy that Sirius himself had found in it.
Granted, he had been weird during their conversation, but during his peak weirdness, Remus hadn't shown any signs of discomfort until Sirius had brought up Christmas. And then he's back to the beginning of his worry-spiral once more, anxiety sitting heavier and heavier with every turn.
"I'll be there in a minute!" Lily yells back, accompanied by the clatter of saucepans in the kitchen.
Harry ignores Sirius' moping entirely, babbling away to his Playmobil Viking ship so rapidly that Sirius cannot hope to keep up. Instead, Sirius takes a sorrowful swig of his lukewarm chai and lets out a sigh that releases the smallest amount of his stress. He forces himself to relax into the cushions of Lily's sofa, revelling in the freedom of not wearing his binder—granted, he doesn't need to wear one at BEYOND, and many of his colleagues don't bother. However, for Sirius' own body dysphoria, it still feels more comfortable to bind. Sirius is already significantly curvier than a lot of the masc-presenting people he looks up to—and that's fine, a voice that sounds a lot like James reminds him—but he makes adjustments to it where he feels he wants to.
Harry lets out a battle cry and charges the Viking ship into what Sirius assumes is a whirlpool, judging by the sound effects Harry is making. It doesn't take long before Sirius has been looped in to pretend to be a monstrous sea creature threatening to drag the ship under, and they are only halfway through the deadly battle when Lily hurries back into the room.
"Okay, the pasta bake is in—I'm listening now." Lily drops into the sofa crease and tugs Sirius up to join her. At her son's pouting, she smiles and ruffles Harry's hair. "Padfoot will be right back, sweet boy, I promise. I just need to borrow him."
"Okay," grumbles Harry, even as he follows Sirius and squashes himself into Sirius' lap. "Cuddles," he demands, wrapping his arms around Sirius' belly and making a happy noise as Sirius squeezes him back. At six and a half years old, he is getting a little big for this, but Sirius couldn't deny him a single damned thing.
"You two are too cute for words right now—remind me to take a picture, or James will be devastated he missed it," Lily says, kissing Sirius' cheek fondly. "Anyway. Start again, and maybe fewer dramatics this time, okay?"
"Dramatics?! Lils, I feel like my heart has been crushed before I could even let it soar, and—"
"Sirius."
"Okay. I hear it now."
Lily rolls her eyes, but swings her feet up to tuck them under Sirius' thigh, squishing even closer to him and Harry. Sirius automatically wraps his free arm around her, revelling in the familiar ease of their little cocoon, of their wonderful friendship, even as he explains his miserable failure with Remus earlier that day.
She has been the one person he has expressed all of his pining angst to, because, despite how close she is with Remus, Sirius knows she would take his embarrassing crush to the grave if he asked her to (and, obviously, that had been the very first thing he had asked). Lily has been all for him flirting with Remus since day one, and Sirius dreads her disappointment when she realises how much he's fucked up, possibly just as much as he dreads an awkward December spent avoiding Remus Lupin in the office. (Avoiding him for the afternoon had been hard enough; he is so used to glancing in Remus' direction that it had sent anxious currents through his chest each time he caught himself looking. For Remus' part, he hadn't been any different, though it pains Sirius to admit he had noticed that.)
When he finishes, Lily shoots him a strange look. "Well. Of course he didn't want to join Secret Santa, Sirius—"
"What the hell—"
Lily clears her throat, glancing down at where Harry is leading a Viking excursion up the slope of Sirius' stomach.
"Heck," Sirius amends. "What the heck do you mean 'of course'?"
"I mean, you numpty, that Remus is Jewish and very much doesn't celebrate Christmas."
Sirius' brain short-circuits for the second time that day.
"What."
"He literally wears a Star of David necklace, Sirius. You've been obsessed with him for weeks; how on Earth didn't you notice that? Or when he mentioned Yom Kippur, did you not think—"
"Oh my god," Sirius moans, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes so hard that he sees stars. "I'm a moron. He must have thought I was being deliberately—oh no—"
The embarrassment arises anew, bringing with it a wave of nausea.
"Stop panicking," Lily says calmly, prising his hands away from his eyes. "Everything is fine, and your brain is being unkind; we can sort this."
"How?" Sirius cries. "I practically micro-aggressed him with Christmas enthusiasm—"
"What's enth-u-siasm?" Harry pipes in, sounding out the word carefully.
"When you're really excited about something, darling," Lily says, and Harry makes a little 'oh' sound, then tilts his head.
"Then just turn it into Hanukkah enthu-enthusm—" Harry stumbles on the word, but sits up straight on Sirius' lap, his eyes earnestly wide behind his round-rimmed glasses.
"What? Where did you learn about Hanukkah?" Sirius asks.
Harry shrugs, losing interest almost as quickly as it had peaked. "In school. Year 1 is doing Judaism this term."
Lily gasps. "Harry, my sweet boy, you are the smartest—he's right, Sirius!" Lily swoops in to press a kiss to his curls, and Harry squirms in embarrassment. Lily looks up at Sirius excitedly. "Hanukkah is literally the week before Christmas this year; you can apologise, explain the misunderstanding, and get him some latkes or sufganiyot during the festival."
"I could…." Sirius' brain has skipped several steps ahead, and he has to take a deep breath to regain a sense of calm. "Hey, Harry. Do Jewish people have a kind of Santa person for Hanukkah?"
Harry hums, drumming his hands on Sirius' belly and giggling delightedly at how it wobbles a little. "No. But they do presents! Eight whole nights of presents! Mummy, can we be Jewish?"
"That is not how that works, sweet boy."
Harry pouts. "I know. That's what Mrs Burbage said when Ron asked too. But it is very cool."
Lily ruffles his curls fondly. "I'll be sure to tell Remus that you think his culture is very cool." She glances over at Sirius and pauses. "Oh no. I know that look. What are you plotting?"
Sirius smiles serenely, his mind already forming an elaborate web of plans. The excitement starts to rise, drowning out the residual anxiety and embarrassment from the afternoon.
And just like that, Operation: Hush-Hush Hanukkah is born.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Night One
By the first day of Hanukkah, Sirius is practically vibrating with excitement. He has spent two weeks in the trenches, plotting the perfect surprise for Remus, and his nerves have been flip-flopping between delight and stress at exhausting speeds. His energy levels are utterly drained and he feels like he is running on fumes (speaking of! He must get more petrol for his bike or he will be stranded halfway home—curse him for forgetting when he was putting the finishing touches on his plans—) but he also feels exhilarated like never before.
Sirius has not spent time one-on-one with Remus since their disastrous kitchen conversation, but he has doubled down on Observing and gathering aspects of Remus' personality like a dragon hoarding precious treasure.
And today's the day!
He takes the opportunity to hide the gift on Remus' desk when the other man goes for lunch with Lily and some of their colleagues. It's wrapped in paper that Sirius had printed himself since the high-street shops had a shocking lack of Hanukkah-themed gift wrap. After an inordinate amount of agonising, Sirius had gone for dark green splashed with little golden dreidels, and tied it up with a bow.
And now he waits.
It's torture.
Patience has never sat well with Sirius; his parents used to chide him for his impulsivity, and his teachers used to complain about his inability to wait quietly for the other students to catch up with him. Still, the twelve-minute wait for Remus to come back from lunch feels like it lasts twelve years.
Remus comes back at last, resting his canes carefully against his desk and swinging into his chair with a sigh. And then…
Sirius sees him frown, pick up the package and turn it over in his hands, clearly searching for a label. He watches the moment when Remus catches the dreidels printed on the paper, and the spark of delight that twitches his mouth into a smile.
"Is this from you?" Sirius can just about make out the words Remus murmurs to Lily, and he watches surreptitiously as she shakes her head with a frown.
"What is it?" she asks, and thankfully, Remus is back to staring at the package, because Lily's eyes flick straight to Sirius and her eyebrows raise. What the fuck are you doing? she mouths.
Sirius shrugs. Shooting my shot, he mouths back, delighting in the incredulous smile that breaks across Lily's face. She fights to control her expression as Remus looks back up at her.
"What?" he asks.
"Nothing. Are you going to open it?"
Remus squints at Lily, then sighs and rubs his eyes behind his glasses. "Do you promise me this isn't from you?"
"I promise," Lily says impatiently. "Open it, Remus."
Sirius watches as Remus traces the dreidels one last time, then carefully slides his finger under the edge of the paper. Sirius should have known he'd be the type to peel off the tape with surgical precision—the added delay is killing him, and he forces himself to type out a nonsense email to hide how much his fingers are trembling.
There's a soft gasp from the other side of the room, and Sirius' eyes immediately dart back to where Remus has pulled out a heating pad from the wrapping paper. "Oh wow," Remus is murmuring, as he runs his hands along the packaging. "This one is such good quality, I don't—"
Lily leans in. "A heating pad?"
"Yeah," Remus says, and there's a wonder in his voice that makes Sirius indescribably proud of the hours he had dedicated to reading reviews and trawling Reddit recommendations (but also the tiniest bit sad, as if nobody has ever thought to truly listen before). "It's specifically for your shoulders and back—you know how I get pain there? I've been looking at getting one of these for ages, and… wow."
"That's… so thoughtful," Lily says, her voice thick with emotion, and Sirius swallows hard, forcing his gaze back to his screen. The number of times he's seen Remus wince and rub at the base of his neck, or crack his shoulders an excruciating number of times in a day; it had felt obvious that Remus needed one of these. Sirius hates the thought of anyone in pain, let alone someone as kind and wholehearted as Remus, someone who constantly gives everything they have without ever expecting back. He knows this isn't a magic fix for Remus' chronic pain, but Sirius hopes it can help at least a little.
Judging by how watery Remus' eyes are, and the way he is now interrogating his closest colleagues, Remus feels the same way.
"Was it you?" he asks Dorcas, who smiles and shakes her head.
"I just want to thank whoever this was," Remus says, his voice a little wobbly. "It's just—so fucking kind."
Marlene laughs, and Remus swivels to look at her.
"You?" he asks hopefully.
"Nope—as much as I would love to take credit for something so sweet."
Lily leans over and squeezes Remus' shoulder gently. "Whoever it was obviously cares a lot," she says, "and you deserve to be cared about. So why don't you make use of your lovely gift and hopefully your mysterious gifter will make themselves known."
Sirius ducks his head and hides his smile in a cup of cold coffee. This scheme is off to the perfect start.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Night Two
"I come bearing gifts," Remus announces to the office the following morning, wheeling in with a tray balanced precariously on his lap. "I've made rugelach."
"Yum," Lily swoops in at once, rescuing the tray and biting into one of the rolled pastries with a groan of delight. "Mmmm, Remus, these are incredible."
Marlene takes a bite, "holy shit, Remus. Is this date… and walnut?"
Remus nods eagerly. "It's my favourite filling."
"This is delicious," Marlene says, licking her fingers enthusiastically. "Why are you blessing us with these?"
"I don't know who gifted me the heating pad, and it's just a small way of saying thank you, I guess." Remus shrugs, as if it's not a big deal that he handmade enough pastries for the whole office just to ensure that the mystery gifter might have one. "So please—" he raises his voice to address everyone. "Help yourselves!"
Sirius does help himself to one later that day, and true to everyone's word, they are melt-in-the-mouth delicious—the buttery cream-cheese pastry is perfectly matched with the sweetness of the dates and earthiness of the walnuts. It does something strange to his heart to know that Remus produced these himself, that he is eating something that Remus made out of love and generosity and the earnest desire to share his culture; it feels like a privilege to taste those flavours amongst the ingredients.
Still, there's no time to dwell on the pastries, because before Sirius has had time to work himself up over it, he's slipping the second gift—blue wrapping and golden menorahs this time—onto Remus' desk and scurrying back to his own.
Remus' expression is comically emotional when he returns from lunch, and he immediately quizzes his friends again before he's even opened the package. Lily meets Sirius' gaze and rolls her eyes fondly. A minute later, he gets a Teams message from her: you are disgustingly smitten and i adore it.
He's choosing the perfect gif response as Remus opens up the present: this time, it's a set of fingerless gloves (since the ones Remus currently wears are full of holes) with special grips for his wheels, a bottle of hand lotion, and a set of lip balms.
Remus beams as he cracks open one of the lip balms right away, and Sirius does not waste a whole minute staring at his lips as Remus applies the balm. Another Teams message arrives: if you stare any harder, your eyes will fall out!
And then: what on earth have you got planned, you sneaky little romantic!!
Sirius bites his lips to contain his grin as Remus excitedly tries on the new pair of gloves.
He sends back a smirking emoji to Lily before burying himself in his work. When he looks up again a couple of hours later, Remus is reapplying his lip balm, still with a faint smile. Their eyes meet for a split second before Sirius looks away, but not before Sirius can keep himself from smiling back—too soft, too sweet, too intimate.
He daren't look in Remus' direction for the rest of the day.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Nights Three, Four & Five
With the weekend getting in the way of Sirius' plans, Sirius decides that the best course of action is to carefully label the gifts for Nights Four and Five so that Remus can open them on the correct nights. It's nowhere near as satisfying as getting to see the look in Remus' eyes as he opens them, but that is hardly the point for Sirius.
It proves a lot harder to hide all three gifts on Remus' desk, and this time, Lily catches him in the act as she returns from a team meeting.
"Aha! You're going to have to be sneakier than this, lover boy."
"Shhh," Sirius hisses, glancing frantically towards the meeting room.
Lily rolls her eyes. "Relax, Marlene has him distracted with explaining the perfect recipe for those delicious pastries. You've got plenty of time."
Sirius nestles the final gift onto the desk, rearranges the colours to a more aesthetically pleasing order, and glances up at Lily. She's watching him with an unreadable expression.
"What?" he says, more tersely than he meant to.
"Nothing, I just—" Lily sighs. "You're serious about him, aren't you?"
Sirius frowns, gesturing down at the gifts. "Isn't that obvious?"
"Just…" She reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. "You're very special too, darling. Don't forget that you deserve to actually tell him. In words, not gifts."
Sirius' throat feels painfully tight all of a sudden, and he looks down, smoothing his shirt over his stomach. "I will."
"Good," Lily presses a kiss to his cheek. "Now, off to your desk or he'll catch you here and get suspicious."
Sirius obediently heads back to his own desk, but for the first time since starting this whole scheme, the anxiety of what he's doing overpowers the excitement, and he finds he has to head off to lunch as soon as Remus emerges from his meeting. Even hearing the muffled gasp of delight as Remus opens his gift feels like a little much for Sirius' frayed nerves, and he presses his head into his hands in exhaustion.
Maybe this is all a bit too much. Maybe he should have just told Remus in the first place, or maybe he should have resigned from this job the day after that awkward interaction. Maybe Remus is feeling overwhelmed by all the gifts and would have preferred it if Sirius had just apologised for being overly intense about Christmas. Sirius has never been good at judging what a proportionate response looks like, after all. He knows he frequently does Too Much or Too Little—and he can plainly see which side this whole escapade falls on.
But it's all in motion now; it would be worse if he just stopped—
"Hi," Remus says, rolling into the room with the third gift open on his lap. "No sandwiches this time?"
"Remus—hi."
It's their first proper interaction since Christmas-Gate, and there's an awkward pause as they both clearly remember that.
"Sorry I—"
"I wanted to apologise—"
Remus laughs as they both stop talking at once. "Sorry, you first."
Sirius swallows and raises his head. He's practised this, for Christ's sake, and he wills himself to get through it with his dignity intact. "Sorry I was weird about Christmas the other week. I honestly didn't realise you're Jewish and I shouldn't have assumed, but I promise I wasn't being deliberately shitty about it."
Nailed it!
Remus' smile is gentle, and he rolls closer to Sirius until he's up against the table. Sirius automatically tugs a chair out of the way so that Remus can slot into place, and Remus drops the box of cookies on the table between them. "Thanks, Sirius. I—I also wanted to apologise for being so short with you. I overreacted because I was having a really bad pain day, and I took that out on you, which was shit of me. I also hate when people assume stuff, and there's a lot of that around this time of year. Again, that's not your fault and I was too grumpy. I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Sirius says, and it is fine—or at least, he's feeling the normal amount of anxiety about talking to someone with a smile like Remus', rather than the embarrassment of his past mistakes on top of that. "Like I said, I shouldn't have assumed. It, uh… it makes an ass out of you and me."
He winces the second the phrase leaves his lips, but Remus laughs.
"You're kind of strange, Sirius," he says, but it's warm.
"Yeah, sorry about that."
"Don't be. I like strange."
Sirius could have sworn that Remus winked at him at that moment. But it must have been a trick of the light, because a second later, Remus is pushing the cookie box towards him. "Please, have one. Have several—there are plenty here."
"Another gift for the office?"
"Actually, it's a gift from a mystery colleague. A surprise for the third night of Hanukkah." Remus shakes his head, his smile turning fond and incredulous. "This is my favourite bakery, and I have no clue how they knew that."
(The answer involves careful eavesdropping, taste-testing the different variations of triple chocolate cookies available across bakeries, and quizzing Lily about where she and Remus tend to meet up outside of work.)
"Looks like someone knows you pretty well," Sirius says. He immediately wants to snatch the words back—the implication that he knows Remus well from simply Observing him all this time—but it's too late.
Remus looks thoughtful. "The thought of that used to terrify me," he says softly. Sirius stays quiet, and after a moment, Remus continues. "When I was younger and in the closet, the thought of someone knowing me—I was so sure that it was impossible to be known for me and loved. And yet."
"And yet," Sirius echoes softly.
"Here I am. Being known. Being seen. And it doesn't feel scary any more. It just feels…"
There's a long pause. Remus' gaze has gone distant and his lips are slightly parted, as though he is on the verge of continuing. But as the silence hangs, Sirius realises he knows what Remus means.
Sirius clears his throat quietly. "Like home. Like the body I've spent so long fighting and the person I was afraid of being—they are home."
Remus blinks, refocusing entirely on him and bathing him in warmth in the process. "Exactly."
"Sometimes, it feels…" Sirius hesitates, unsure of how to put this into words when he hasn't dared breathe life into it outside of his heart. "Like I want to hold that younger me in a bear hug, and force him to see, really see, how precious and big his life will become. He wouldn't have believed it. Sometimes… sometimes, I still don't believe it."
Remus reaches out and entwines their fingers for a moment. "Then we need to have people who can remind us when we can't believe it ourselves."
Sirius nods. He can scarcely take a full breath with the emotion of everything they have just shared sitting atop his lungs, but for once, that thought doesn't fill him with panic. He doesn't feel the anxiety of vulnerability with Remus, and as long as they are here, holding each other in this moment, nothing else matters to Sirius.
It feels like neither of them wants to be the first to break the spell between them.
But then one of the Accountancy team stumbles into the kitchen on a coffee run, and Sirius' hand feels cold without the weight of Remus' in it. Remus leaves him with a tender smile and two cookies before wheeling out of the kitchen, and Sirius spends the rest of the day in a daze of Remus-Remus-Remus.
On Monday morning, there's a perfect Lego succulent (gift four) sitting on his desk, with a Post-It note taped to the top. It reads: is it you? in Remus' tidy cursive, and the Post-It is shaped like a cat (part of the matching stationery set that had made up gift five). Sirius laughs as he sees it, glancing up to catch Remus' eye.
He doesn't deny it.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Night Six
As Remus comes to open Monday's gift, something shifts in the office. Suddenly, it's no longer just Lily who knows that Sirius is absolutely smitten with Remus Lupin, because Marlene and Dorcas are nudging each other and giggling in his direction. Sirius doesn't know how they figured it out, but he can't help how his cheeks flush each time they look at him.
Worst of all, though (best of all?), is that Remus opens his sixth gift, making full eye contact with Sirius the entire time.
When he unfolds the Hanukkah jumper, he laughs in delight at the lettering, which reads: That's how I roll with a dreidel embroidered in the centre. He immediately tugs it on, doing a little spin for Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas. Most of the office is decked out in Christmas jumpers, Sirius included, but somehow Remus' smile shines brighter than even the jumpers with flashing lights.
He comes straight over to Sirius' desk, leaning on it and one of his canes for balance. "I know it's you."
"Oh?" Play it cool, Sirius. "What makes you say that?"
Remus grins. "You're not denying it."
"Just curious about your reasoning."
"Partly deduction. Partly creativity—you're exactly the kind of person that could come up with something like this from the stories Lily tells about you and James. Partly that your staring is nowhere near as subtle as you think it is." He grins wider at Sirius' wince. "And partly…" Remus' tongue darts out to lick his lips in a nervous motion. "… Wishful thinking?"
He gives Sirius another smile, this time tinged with anxiety, and darts away.
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Night Seven
Today's gift had been a risk, and Sirius knew that. If things had been going differently at this point, Sirius had an alternative option, but he has somehow managed to pull this insane scheme off thus far, and he may as well go big. He has no intentions to go home, after all.
Remus opens his gifts just as carefully on the seventh day as with all the ones before, and he unwraps the bumper pack of teabags first, before cackling in pure delight at the drinks mat that clatters out.
"My pain may be chronic, but my arse is iconic," he reads, and Sirius goes all in, and winks at Remus when he looks over at him. Remus' smile is bigger than he's ever seen it, almost dazzlingly so; if Sirius had thought that it could melt a frozen lake before, then this one must be a goddamn supernova for how it obliterates every last cold shard of hurt in his heart.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Night Eight
"I suppose I should fess up to it now," Sirius says with a grin.
"I think you telling me to 'stay behind so I can give you your eighth gift' might have been plenty of a confession," Remus says with a laugh.
Sirius tilts his head to one side in acknowledgement. "Fair point. I just wanted it to be us for this one."
Remus nods, then hesitates. "Look, I know it won't be because I don't think you're this kind of person, but my brain won't shut up. So. I just want to check—it's not something sexual, right? Because you know I'm ace, and I'm not—"
"It's not something sexual. Jesus, Remus, I wouldn't do that to you."
Remus nods frantically. "I know! I know, just—" he waves vaguely. "Brain stuff, you know?"
Sirius nods. "You know I do."
They look at each other, leaning against their respective desks, and then Sirius moves towards Remus until they're directly opposite one another. He hesitates, then passes Remus the final gift.
Remus opens it gingerly and then laughs. "A dreidel! And geld! I haven't been given these since I was tiny!"
"I thought…" Sirius pauses, takes a moment for the anxiety pressing down on his chest. "I thought maybe you could teach me how to play? And also—we could eat together?" He lifts a basket from behind his back, flipping the lid to reveal a smorgasbord of treats.
Remus' eyes are wide and glassy, and for one horrible moment, Sirius has that lurching feeling again, like he's somehow fucked up somewhere. But then, Remus' arms are around him in a tight hug, and he's clinging to Sirius like a lifeline, their bodies pressed together at every single point. Remus smells like jasmine tea, fresh ink, a winter's breeze, and cardamom, but all those scents meld into one in Sirius' nose to mean home, home, home. He presses a kiss to the top of Remus' curls, and draws them slightly apart to look Remus in the eye.
"Are you okay?"
Remus is teary, his lashes clumped together and his nose running a little. He has never looked more beautiful to Sirius, and then he smiles and nods, seemingly unable to form words. Remus pulls Sirius closer and whispers, "You make me feel so seen. All of me. Thank you."
And suddenly, Sirius' own eyes are leaking and his words are gone.
"Can I kiss you?" Remus murmurs.
It's all Sirius can do to nod, and then Remus' lips are on his, and Sirius knows he is home.
One Year Later
"Love, it's time."
Sirius doesn't think he will ever be over hearing Remus call him 'love' with such ease and naked affection. His heart will skip every time, his chest will tighten with the tidal wave of adoration he feels for his boyfriend, and his eyes will automatically seek him out in every room. Just as Sirius found home in his own body, Remus' now means home to him, too.
He hears the familiar swish-click of Remus' canes as he moves through the flat, and pats his shirt pocket one last time to ensure the gift is safe and sound.
"Hi," Remus says, pausing in the doorway to the living room. "I didn't realise you were ready."
"I may be chronically late for life, but never for Hanukkah."
Remus shoots him a shy smile. "Thank you for doing this with me."
"Thank you for asking me to, Remus."
Remus nods, ducking his head, and Sirius catches him around the waist before he can move past the moment. "I mean it. I love you, Remus."
Remus breaks into a smile—the same smile that had first cracked the frozen lake around Sirius' heart, that made him feel safe and warm and home. "I love you too."
They cradle one another for a few minutes, basking in the feeling of being held, of being seen, of being loved.
Eventually, Remus pulls away, placing one candle in the right-hand side of the menorah and lighting the shamash. Sirius allows the rich words of the blessings Remus recites to wash over him like a tide ebbing and flowing, and then Remus offers him the helper candle. "You can light it, love." He leans his weight against Sirius, though his canes are still in arms' reach, wrapping an arm around Sirius' plush waist.
Throat tight, Sirius reaches out to light the first candle before propping the shamash in the centre in its elevated holder. He glances over at Remus, unable to hold back his smile.
"What?" Remus asks.
"You look insanely gorgeous in candlelight," Sirius tells him, grinning wider still at how Remus blushes.
"Shut up," Remus says, but he's laughing—Sirius' favourite sound in the world.
"You asked!"
Remus shakes his head fondly. "Come here," he says, and Sirius leans in, brushing their lips together in a soft, searing kiss that burns as bright and long as the menorah. Sirius' gift sits in his pocket, but he feels no urgency this year. The key that represents his invitation to move in together can wait—they have seven more nights after all.
And a lifetime of Hanukkahs to come.