Chapter Text
The first time was an accident. Regulus must have grabbed Remus’ black hoodie instead of his own. He didn’t realize his mistake until he started emptying his tote bag at home.
Regulus pulled and pulled at the black fabric, feeling like a magician with a bottomless hat. When he realized who it belonged to, he ran into the bathroom and locked the door before Sirius noticed anything was awry.
Not that anything was awry.
But Regulus’ heart was beating too fast for comfort, and the last thing he needed was his nosy older brother’s involvement. Regulus was almost certain he had convinced Sirius that he no longer had a crush on Remus. He was a good actor—a good liar—deadpan and unimpressed. It was easy to act like the teenage infatuation was just that.
Nevermind that Remus’ scent was what had triggered Regulus’ first heat.
Or that Remus was seven years older and had already been an adult at that point.
That was all in the past. Anyway, he had long accepted that nothing good could come of an unrequited crush on his idiot brother’s best friend.
The hoodie probably didn’t even belong to Remus. With his back against the cold door, Regulus inspected it again, pinching the shoulders with both arms extended as if it could bite.
The texture was wrong, too. Regulus’ own sweatshirt was newer, stiffer. This one was plain. Probably just Gildan or Fruit of the Loom, but it was soft and worn in with a smattering of tiny holes—well-loved, as if he only had the one. In fact, he probably did only have the one.
For a moment, the omega considered how difficult it would be to order a new black hoodie, then duplicate the wear and tear. He could give Remus the new one and keep the original for himself. Regulus studied the frayed sleeve and where the alpha had chewed the drawstring.
No. No, that wouldn't work. Regulus would have to give it back. Anxiety and thrill roiled his stomach like evil twins.
There was no doubt about its provenance. With perfect accuracy, Regulus recalled Remus wearing it on infinite occasions over the years.
Last June, at the beach, Remus had pulled it up over his head from the neck instead of lifting from the bottom hem. Tan, taut skin was exposed inch by inch, only to reveal he hadn’t been wearing a shirt underneath. And Regulus? Regulus was a goner. He bolted, making it to the water’s edge before the final sleeve came off.
Remus also wore it to the bar on Regulus’ birthday. When he leaned in to give him a hug and whispered, “How old are you now, Regulus?”—it had felt more like dirty talk than the simple question Regulus knew it was.
Tonight, at the movies, with Sirius between them, when they’d piled all their jackets on the empty chair next to Regulus.
Holding the material in his hands now made it feel different somehow. More foreign. Weirdly intimate, sacred. This is what he puts on every day. This is what he chooses. He likes how it looks on him. It makes him feel good.
Regulus swallowed the lump in his throat.
It must be at least a large. Maybe an extra large. It was easy to forget just how big Remus really was. The alpha was always slumped over, like he was afraid to take up space. And just for laughs, just to see how oversized it would be, Regulus stuck his arms through the sleeves and pulled it on over his shirt.
The mass of black fabric swallowed his body as the alpha’s woodsy petrichor scent clouded his mind. Regulus couldn’t help the breathy sound that escaped him as he tucked his nose into the collar and breathed in hard. Fuck, it was indecent.
This would be perfect in his nest, tucked into his pillowcase or held between his arms. A little piece of Remus to keep him company during his heats. No one would have to know.
Regulus parted his lips to smell it better and rubbed his face into the inside of the hood as his mouth watered. The scent was spiking his pulse. He knew it was a pheromone-induced high, but it didn’t matter. A cocktail of endorphins raced through him as he shuddered. If he were younger, he’d be jumping on his bed, trying to get the energy out.
Something possessive inside him snapped. Regulus was getting too lightheaded. Holding his breath, he pulled it off, stuffing it back into the tote bag. He held it tight against his chest as he sprinted into his bedroom.
Maybe Remus wouldn’t miss it.
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The second time was less of an accident.
“Sorry, my car’s a bit of a mess. You can just throw your stuff in the back,” Remus called from the driver’s seat.
Fresh snow crunched under his boots. Regulus mumbled his thanks, gently laying his violin case in the trunk on top of a pile of miscellaneous junk. He climbed into the passenger seat, placing his backpack at his feet. He shivered as his body adjusted to the heat radiating from the dashboard.
“Thanks for picking me up,” Regulus said, buckling his seatbelt. “Sirius said he would, but…”
Regulus didn’t have to finish that sentence. Remus knew how Sirius could be.
“You know I don’t mind,” Remus said, offering Regulus a fond smile. Shaggy brown hair swung to the side as he wrapped his arm around the passenger seat headrest, shifting into reverse. There was something so comfortingly masculine about the action that Regulus relaxed into his seat.
“I was planning on walking home, but it was already so dark by the time I came out,” Regulus admitted. “And the storm started early.”
“You what?” Remus frowned. “It’s way too cold to walk.”
Regulus shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I’m free Monday nights. You can call me if you need a ride. Really, I don’t mind.”
“Thank you, Lupin,” Regulus said, unwrapping his scarf and stuffing it into his backpack on the floor.
His chuckle was skeptical. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re appeasing someone, Regulus. I promise. I can pick you up whenever you need. I’m here.” He pulled out of the parking lot, typing in Regulus’ address into his phone without a word.
Regulus’ heart kicked. Maybe Remus wasn’t just picking Regulus up as a favor for Sirius, even if it had been Sirius who’d asked. That sounded like he really did want to see Regulus. Or at least as if he didn’t mind. Resting his chin on his fist, Regulus turned toward the window to hide his grin.
Regardless of how confident and well-regarded Regulus was in his own circles, there had always just been something about him that tied Regulus in knots. Something that reverted him into the awkward middle schooler he’d been when they met.
Remus was unattainable. As far as Regulus knew, Remus never dated. It was hard to stand out in the company of Sirius Black and James Potter. But Regulus thought his gentleness was part of his charm. He was always unbearably kind and smart and well-meaning.
When Remus said the car was “a bit of a mess,” it had been an understatement. The interior was a tornado of books and papers, clothes, ceramic mugs with drained teabags, and everything in between. If it had been anyone else’s car, Regulus wasn’t sure he would find it as charming as he did right now. But it was just so perfectly Remus—warm and safe and homey.
Tobacco and rolling papers sat in the cup holder, but the car only faintly smelled like cigarettes. More than that, it smelled like Remus. Only Remus. It didn’t even smell like his brother, who Remus was typically attached at the hip with, his brother who things came so easily to, while Regulus watched from the sidelines.
The lack of scents made the demanding, covetous omega that lived in his gut sharpen its claws. Overwhelmed with the sensation, Regulus twitched.
“Cold?” Remus asked.
His alpha was so attentive to him.
“I’m okay,” Regulus said. “I don’t mind the snow, I’ve always liked winter.”
Remus turned up the temperature dial anyway.
“Yeah,” Remus hummed. “It’s special. It snows a lot where my parents live. When I was a kid, I used to sneak out in the middle of the night, just to stand in the backyard. There aren’t any other houses nearby, so it’s dark and quiet. So quiet you feel like you’re the only person in the world. Felt like an escape.”
Regulus couldn’t hide the surprise on his face when he turned to Remus.
Remus made an embarrassed sound and wiped his face with his palm. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”
“No, no, that was beautiful. I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Regulus reassured him, grabbing Remus’ hand, then immediately letting go when he realized what he was doing.
Remus’ shoulders dropped infinitesimally from his ears, and Regulus found the strength to continue.
“It’s like on a clear night when you can really see the stars, well, some of them are actually planets. Like Venus? It’s so, so bright—brighter than Sirius. It’s incredible. And when you realize you’re standing there looking at another planet with your naked eye, it doesn’t seem so far. It’s not just up there versus down here. In the grand scope of things, the whole solar system is connected and so small, like one tiny beating heart, and it makes you realize that nothing you do matters. Nothing is as embarrassing or crucial as you were worried it would be.”
The look of understanding Remus gave him took his breath away. “Yeah,” Remus whispered. “Exactly.”
Regulus’ body lit up as something solid pressed against his forearm. He chanced a subtle look down. Remus’ elbow was turned out, now snugly pressed against Regulus’ own. Regulus held his breath, waiting for him to move it away, to realize they were touching, but he didn’t.
The steady movement of the wipers was hypnotic, and the car felt like a microcosm. Like this point in time was set aside from all the rest.
A few minutes later, “The Black Arts” by Stereolab came on. Remus tapped the steering wheel along with the song. Regulus wanted Remus to know he knew the song without singing and ruining the mood. He wanted to have something in common with him, wanted to impress the older alpha, wanted to deepen their connection. There were so many things Regulus wanted, but he wasn’t sure how to get.
For now, the steady pressure of Remus’ arm against his and the flex of his muscle as he shifted gears would have to do.
The album kept playing, maintaining the magic they’d created in the car, but that was the last conversation they had. Fluffy snow continued to paint the dark landscape with flashes of white as they shared a comfortable silence.
They pulled up to Regulus’ apartment, but he never wanted the night to end. He wanted to grab Remus, pull him up the stairs, hide him in his nest, and never let him go.
Remus turned off the car but stared straight ahead. The sudden lack of pressure against his arm chilled him to the bone. Regulus wanted to say something, wanted Remus to say something.
Could Regulus invite him upstairs? Was that too forward?
Regulus turned to him. He could hear the embarrassing vulnerability in his voice when he asked, “Hey, Remus, would you…”
“Here, let me get the trunk for you. Sometimes it sticks in the cold,” Remus interrupted, averting his eyes and stepping out of the car.
“Thanks,” Regulus called, trying to hide that his veins were boiling with adrenaline.
Without a second thought, he grabbed the used mug from the console and stuffed it in his backpack.