Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It would be a stretch to describe Remus Lupin as attractive, at least according to himself, and that guy on the pier last summer who drew caricature portraits of unsuspecting tourists. His mother would disagree probably, having spent his entire childhood ruffling his hair and calling him her most handsome boy - up until he grew too tall for her to comfortably reach and settle for patting his cheeks instead. It’s not like he is properly ugly or even unpleasant-looking - just weird enough for people to take a close look at him with questioning eyes. 

It’s not just one thing either, if it had just been the one thing then maybe he might have coughed up the cash to fix it. But it is the whole combination of body parts that does it. His height for example, being tall was usually believed to be an attractive tribute for a man to possess but when he went over one hundred and ninety centimeters before he even reached eighteen, Remus became aware that it was probably such a thing as being too tall, causing him to slouch and develop an even worse posture. 

His height makes him a decent swimmer though; his long arms and legs, too large feet, and hands help him propel his body through the water at a speed that makes it encouraging for him to continue the activity almost every morning in the small swimming pool in the basement of his apartment building. 

It’s his nose as well, Remus thinks as he views it in the mirror when he brushes his teeth that morning. It’s long with a bump on the bridge. Slashed across that crooked bridge is a scar he has had his entire life, a scar that strangers tend to ask about before being let down when they hear it’s from an accident as a child and nothing more thrilling than that. His eyes on either side of it, large and slightly downturned at the outer edges - like a perpetually sad and exhausted creature.

I t could be his body, Remus runs a hand across his naked chest still with the toothbrush in his mouth, he has always been gangly and skinny, possibly stronger now with his new swimming routine and after joining the queer bouldering group around a year ago. But never really the finely shaped standard that dominates nowadays. There is a dusting of light brown hair on his sternum and under his navel.

It doesn’t matter, Remus spits out the toothpaste and rinses his mouth, runs a hair through drying curls that might have been in better condition if he just took care of them better, light brown tests that are fighting a losing battle against the grays at his temples. Ever the winner of the genetic lottery, Remus Lupin started going gray at age twenty. What he looks like is not that important. At least that’s what he tells himself as he gets dressed. Obediently buttons each button on a white shirt before pulling a thin beige pullover on top. He tightens the black leather belt to its smallest setting at least he doesn’t have to add another hole to this one, he has gained weight since he last bought a belt.

*

The apartment is clean and quiet as Remus packs his lunch in his work bag, located on a much quieter street than when he lived with Ben who insisted they live right by the main street where noises could be heard every hour of the day, no matter the price or the space sacrificed for the prime location.

But it is clean, because Remus likes it clean, and he likes living alone - thank you very much. No one to pick up after, or chase out of bed in the morning because someone forgot to set an alarm. And Remus doesn’t mind cooking for one or coming home to an empty house with just himself to fret over, feeling both tired but also unstimulated after a day's work. Or maybe he does mind, but it’s fine. 

The good thing about his apartment building, besides his access to the pool and gym in the basement, is how close he is to the nearest bus stop despite not being located in the city center. Just one bus ride, not even having to exit and change transit is one of those things that excite a newly twenty-nine-year-old man with a job he’d rather sleep through and no romantic prospects to place his excitement onto. And it’s so fine that he often doesn’t open his mouth and speak to anyone as soon as the clock strikes five in the afternoon. It’s fine that he finds joy in the fact that he can read on the bus to work, without even having to stop before being outside his office.

Lily would tell him to date, she has already actually tried to force him on the apps as if they could offer any salvation to his apparent loneliness. It’s not like she met her partner on a dating app - no, she met him when she came as Remus’ date for the office Christmas party a year and a half ago.

But dating cannot solve everything, it can ruin everything. It can force you to move out of the space you have called home for the last two years just because your ex bought the place, even if it was his fault the relationship broke in the first place. It can force you out of previous friend groups, making you go on Facebook of all places to find community elsewhere. And a breakup can help you find a group of really nice people who spend their time chit-chatting in between climbing increasingly more difficult problems and passing small blocks of chalk to coat their hands. 

No, Remus thinks as he locks his door and heads down to the bus stop, everything might not be perfect. But it’s fine. 

*

Remus tucks the worn-down Pride and Prejudice copy in his bag as he gets off the bus outside his office building. The air is warm on his skin and the sun is peeking out through misty clouds in the sky above. He strides in through the reception just like he has every Monday through Friday for the last five years, greeting the young receptionist with a small smile. Walking into the elevator he presses the button corresponding to Horace’s Home & Business Services - number four to be exact. The elevator offers a small reprieve before it's time for Remus to meet the office for the second time that week. He takes a large breath, and closes his eyes against the overhead lighting. 

When Remus arrives he almost knocks into his boss Poppy on her way to the coffee machine.

Poppy is a kind woman in her fifties who took him under her wing when he started as a fresh graduate, she insists on everyone calling her by her first name and bakes treats for the entire floor when the mood strikes. 

“Good morning Remus, still available for our ten o’clock tomorrow? We’ll meet in my office,” Poppy is still walking as she speaks, turning her head to keep eye contact with him as she goes. 

“Good morning. Yes, that works,” Remus says his first words since leaving the day prior.

Poppy rounds the corner but manages to toss out, “And don’t forget the morning brief!”

Right, it’s Tuesday, Remus thinks as his gaze wanders over to the desks closest by. The open office landscape doesn’t have cubicles but rather the newer version of them; desks with soundproof textile dividers where his colleagues tend to pin to-do lists and personal photographs. Remus’ own has none of that, but the desk his eyes always catch on does. 

It’s slightly messy with post-its containing phone numbers to prospective clients and a cord tangle under the desktop screen that would have made Remus go mad. Pinned on the divider is a photograph, the glare on the glossy page makes it hard for him to see what it is, but he has seen that picture enough to know. It pictures two young teenagers, with dark wavy hair on both of their heads as they stand with arms around each other’s shoulder. A large grin covers one of their faces - the one whose hair brushes his shoulders. 

“Morning,” Pomona greets him over the edge of her mug of tea as he sits down at his sparse desk having just collected his own hot beverage in the breakroom. 

“Good morning, anything new?” Remus asks her as usual, this is a well-practiced dance at this point. Something he could do in his sleep. 

“You know how it is, fires needing to be put out,” Remus just hums his response as he goes through his emails, noticing quickly that Pomona is right; it’s all the same old scramble of problems as usual.

See, Horace’s Home & Business Services is a large company that offers a bunch of different services. It started as a home cleaning business. Clients with too much money and too little time needed their houses cleaned every two weeks and Horace’s had personnel with cleaning supplies and the need for an income to do it. It expanded over the next twenty years, the company grew to not only offer its cleaning services to private individuals but also businesses who had the added stipulation of needing cleaning outside of business hours. 

After that took off, Horace started looking into even larger projects - moving services to be more precise - so he hired two teams of a total of forty men who learned how to carry furniture down flights of stairs ergonomically and drive large trucks, to later carry the same furniture up a different set of stairs and into empty homes. So besides the cleaners and the movers, team leaders were hired to schedule workers and clients, take care of keys, and offer compensation in case of damages. A whole sales team was then hired to take care of prospective clients, mostly families with complicated moves and business clients. And then there was Remus, who worked internally. 

The whole back-office operation sits on the fourth floor and reports to Poppy, the team leaders with their own boss sit a floor below. 

It’s not like Remus hates his job, it’s fine. He works in the finance and accounting department at the large cleaning and moving business. The job is just dull; budget reports to be delivered, KPIs need to be analyzed and presented, entrepreneurial ideas need to be brought down to earth because of budget constraints - that sort of thing. The same thing happens day in and day out, week in and week out, but it's fine.

He even likes his colleagues well enough, Pomona’s decent even though she can be a bit kooky with her no-nonsense attitude and wild gray hair giving her a striking resemblance to the crazy cat lady from The Simpsons. Pete from accounting is nice, and James in HR is another good one despite his high energy and positive outlook. And Remus actually thinks so, he isn’t saying that just because the poor sod fell in love with Lily the first time he saw her and almost tripped over his own two feet and spilled holiday punch all over himself to introduce himself.

No, it’s not a reinvigorating workplace, the most exciting thing that happens might be when the sales workers hand in their receipts for reimbursement. Then Remus can spend time imagining the conversations that took place over the overpriced coffee or what music played in the rented car’s speakers that correlates to each receipt. Sometimes he even gets to decline their reimbursement claims and have a heated discussion with one of the over-charismatic gits over what actually counts as a business expense. It makes Remus pulse race. He’s pathetic. 

Remus gets up out of his office chair when he spots Poppy rolling on the large whiteboard with notes for this week’s brief. There is an area that the whole fourth-floor office landscape is modeled around, and it's the breakroom in the middle, it is in this area in front of the breakroom that Pomona stands for everyone to see and hear her. They used to have these meetings on Mondays before realizing that the sales staff would usually be out on client meetings on Monday mornings, or that everybody just hated having floor-wide meetings first thing on the first day of the week.

“Hiya, Lupin,” Pete greets him as he makes his way over to stand next to Remus and Pomona.

“Morning,” Remus responds and almost manages to ask if Pete’s had time to look over that report that he emailed just yesterday before Poppy claps her hands and gets everyone’s attention.

The door that leads to the stairwell and the elevators opens and a person slips inside right before Poppy starts speaking. Remus catches a glimpse of black hair before said someone tosses their jacket onto their office chair and stands by the others in the sales team. The slight commotion makes several heads turn despite Poppy standing there ready to deliver as the late-comer whispers something to the person at their side, making them laugh silently. The day hasn’t even started and Remus feels his patience thinning slowly, like water emptying of a clogged drain. He hates when people are late, especially if they’re going to be disturbing everyone who’s already on time. 

“Good morning everyone! I hope you had a lovely start to your week. Right, so the mid-year meetings are starting today and I hope all of you have confirmed your invite as of now - as you know it’s very important that we have these meetings to make sure you’re up to speed and we can go over any goals or development areas,” Pomona starts, Remus had actually confirmed his invite weeks ago and it’s been marked in his calendar since, not because he’s looking forward to it, he just is like that.

“Moving on to more fun events, the summer conference is happening in a few weeks. I remind you again to send any information regarding diets and allergies to Gil in admin so that he can forward them to the venue.”

“Where do you think we’re going?” Pete asks Remus in a whisper, “My money’s on the hotel from last year’s Christmas party, you know the one with the uncomfortable chairs.” Yeah, that party was something; Pomona got too drunk and started a betting pool with the IT guys and everything had to be broken up when discussions of winnings got too heated. Horace had held a speech that ran far too long and made everybody squirm in their uncomfortable seats, something about being passionate about their work, likening the office to a marriage that needed attention and care.

“I bet it’s that conference hall in the city, I have a hard time believing Horace feels generous enough to pay for everyone to sleep over,” Remus responds thinking of that awful gray building that housed the anime convention a few months ago, he passed too many adults dressed up in cosplay as he was out looking for a good pair of slacks that Saturday. 

“And it is a two-day conference, and this year we have decided to go a bit farther away,” Pomona claps her hands together again in an effort to excite her audience of tired office workers. “We’re actually going to the Godric Estate and everyone is invited to sleep over!”

Well, that was new. Remus knew the company had a good year last year - he was the man with the numbers after all - but he also knew of the owner's stingy spending habits so this was without a doubt a surprise. 

The Godric Estate is located a bit of a drive outside the city and houses conferences and weddings in old but maintained rooms with high feelings and velvet drapes. The food is supposed to be good, Lily was there with her swanky consulting firm last year. 

“Looks like neither of us won that bet,” Pete shrugs and brushes his hand through his straw-colored hair as the meeting gears from conference talk to game-plan for the upcoming week, neither he nor Remus paying any attention to it. Remus shrugs once more.

When the meeting ends, everybody just goes back to their desks and continues their assigned work assignments. Pete curses when Excel freezes and Pomona grumbles about the new interface of their internal platform where she can’t find the links she’s looking for and Remus sighs over the over-enthusiastic newsletter written by one over-enthusiastic HR representative named James Potter. 

The day passes slowly.

First, Remus can’t get access to the budget portal and he has to make his way down into the basement to see the IT guys for a renewed access license. Then he replies to emails. Then it's lunch and he reheats his leftovers in the microwave in the breakroom and sits down with Pete who wants to discuss last night’s football game, a conversation Remus really isn’t that interested in but has heard enough about from his dad to keep the conversation going. 

In the afternoon Remus is out of immediate fires to put out. He could start on the presentation for the conference, several projections and models need to be made and he likes to take his time with those. But the information required is still subject to change and he doesn’t really feel like doing the same work twice if there are any irregularities between now and then that makes those projections change. He drums his finger on his desk, and swivels in the chair restlessly as he checks the system for reimbursement requests.

There are a total of nine entries. Nine people in the sales department have turned their requests in and Remus scrolls through them quickly. They’re all going to be accepted, he just has to press the button that signals his approval to send the report out.

Nine.

There are nine entries for a total of ten people working in sales. The remaining office staff also have the ability to turn reimbursements in - none have this month. 

And it doesn’t matter how many times he has repeated himself throughout this scope of his responsibility, someone is always late. And it’s always the same someone. Remus sighs. He could just send the report anyway. The late-comers only have themselves to blame for not getting compensation for their expenses, Remus is fully capable of ensuring that. He hovers the mouse over the button titled Approve All.

Remus closes the system for reimbursement requests. He can wait one more day. Despite having to clench his jaws so hard his molars grind against each other because there are a few things that Remus hates as much as failing deadlines, even if it is personal ones. 

*

If Remus had told his younger self that he would one day spend a few times a week with five other queer adults, climbing pretend rocks and actually enjoying it, his past self would have laughed. His past self who brooded and read classic literature and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes until his lungs hurt and thought he’d go to uni to study creative writing.

Then Remus spent a few weeks on a summer course for creative writing and actually learned that people who studied creative writing were pretentious at best, god-awful at worst, and went with his second option - finance. Not as cool, a lot more math but it offered a steady paycheck at the end of each month and gave Remus the ability to excel - pun intended - in an environment where his type A personality tendencies were encouraged.

And then his life fell apart because one dick-head couldn’t keep it in his pants and he lost his friends and had to go through the mortifying ordeal of trying to find new ones as an adult. Good thing they were good friends. Even if they had a bouldering group on Facebook.

The group is made up of five people - excluding Remus who is the latest newcomer, and they meet at the climbing gym a few times a week, rarely everyone at the same time thanks to differing work schedules. There is Dorcas and Marlene - the lesbian couple, Dorcas a few years Remus’ senior and works in graphic design, and Marlene who is two years his junior and pursuing her phd. They’d been together since university and that math hadn’t worked itself out in Remus’ brain before Dorcas had explained that she had taken a few years off traveling before going to school. Nonetheless, they were two of the coolest people he had ever met. 

Then there were the Prewett twins - Gid and Fabian, both equally hilarious and handsome, but in very different ways. Fabian was more classically attractive and had done some catalog modeling during his university days, Gideon was more approachable, with his wide grin and freckled-covered face. They are currently both working to take over their father’s business when he is set to retire in a few years. The last member was Xeno, Remus isn't sure that is actually his real name and he is flaky and rarely shows up. But he is eccentric and always offers to hook Remus up on any drug requests he might have, not that he ever does, he stopped doing them in uni when he also stopped being cool. 

“If you hate it that much, why don’t you quit? Find another job?” Marlene asks with her head tilted to look at Dorcas closing in on the end of the problem she is climbing. Dorcas’ long braids were clasped at the nape of her neck in a pink scrunchy and sways against her back as her head shifts.

“It’s more complicated than that. It’s not like I hate it, and I don’t want to let my boss down after she’s done so much for me,” Remus is - weirdly - also looking at Dorcas’ butt as she maneuvers the wall. 

“Well, you complain about it every time I see you, sounds to me like you hate it,” Marlene levels him with a hard stare under her bleached eyebrows. And even though hate is a strong word she might be right. Maybe Remus hates his job. “You don’t even need to hate it, you can just look online, see what’s out there. Maybe even go on some interviews,” Marlene continues, again with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

Remus had previously thought that Marlene would have been the louder one in the couple the first time he met her, based solely on her bleached hair and her countless random tattoos. But Marlene is introspective and blunt, and when she says something like that it makes him hear it differently than from his own internal monologue. Her girlfriend on the other hand, the one dangling up there, she’s a brash gossip. And Remus loves them both for it. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Remus hums without any commitment but the thought still stays with him. 

To be fair, he has thought about it a number of times before, especially since the whole break-up fiasco, but there always seems to be something in the way of him actually doing it. It could be a new show on Netflix that seemed more interesting that night. A few times it has been a buttload of laundry that requires his immediate attention. And more times than what he is comfortable admitting to, it is seeing his old university mates post about their own flourishing careers on LinkedIn and realizing that he has already spent five years essentially working a dead-end job and the competition for interesting roles is ruthless. That’s what he gets for not choosing a Big Four firm, like Lily did, right after graduation. 

So he just resigns himself to possibly working at Horace’s forever, at least during those dark gray evenings in his sad lonely apartment when the only thing he can motivate himself to do is break out those expensive biscuits to have with his tea. 

Dorcas manages her current problem and climbs down efficiently. It’s Remus’ turn now, so he walks on the thick mat up to the bouldering wall in front of him. Apparently, climbing a physical wall using only his calloused fingertips feels less like a challenge than climbing the mental one. 

*

With aching, chalk-flushed fingers he calls his mother's number as he steps into his apartment ready for a chat as he heats up his leftovers.

Hope Lupin answers after three rings.

“Hi, love! You’ve caught me in the middle of Antiques Roadshow,” his mother’s voice is a thrill in his ear. Remus sometimes wonders how he is related to her at all, as everything about him, down to the shape of his fingers and the low rumble of his voice, is a carbon copy of his dad. 

“Sorry about that, how are you?” Remus presses his phone in between his ear and his shoulder as he moves around the small kitchen and puts his plate in the microwave as his mother platters on.

“-and you know how your dad is about the car,” Remus can faintly hear his father defend himself from his mother’s accusations on the other line. “You know very well what I’m talking about, Lyall. Well, anyway. We’ve booked our tickets for next week,” she continues after chastising his father.

“Right, send me the information and I’ll come to meet you at the station, make sure you get to the hotel alright,” Remus says and feels a tinge of home-sickness, it’s easy to miss them when he stands by the counter in his empty apartment, eating reheated leftovers right out of the container.

“Good thing we’ve got you, love,” Remus can hear Hope’s smile through the receiver, and his heart tugs once again. “Right, I’ll send you the travel details.” They say their goodbyes and hang up the phone. Remus manages to turn the TV on even before the complete silence of the apartment properly settles and he grabs his personal laptop and sits down on the couch. 

With the evening news in the background, he goes on the hell-site also known as LinkedIn, and sets his search for jobs in the city. Would I move for a job? He thinks before pressing the enter key. Moving would mean a brand new town, zero friends, and having to find a new place. No, he decides, one step at a time. 

The reason why job hunting is so atrocious that Remus had procrastinated doing it and denying the fact that his workplace is anything other than stale, is the uncertainty of it all. None of the listings offer anything other than unrecognizable titles and skills such as “Being able to work solitary as well as in teams”. Those are perfect contradictions. Or this one, Remus shivers, “Looking for someone with an entrepreneurial spirit”. Fuck off with that.

But there are jobs out there, there is no denying that. Now he just has to find some that seem interesting enough for him to apply to, send out his CV and cover letter, be totally chill about it, and maybe go to a few interviews without caring how it goes. And if nothing tickles his fancy he will just stay at Horace’s, like Marlene said. 

Remus has never done anything like that before, just carelessly tried and not cared about the consequences. He cares a lot. When he went to business school he threw himself into it even if he had his doubts about him fitting into that environment. Then when he learned that he was good at it, even liked it he indulged in the materials, in the graphs and the stupid finance vocabulary, and the calculations.

When he met Ben he threw himself into him as well, headfirst, and he cared so much. Enough to make a calculated decision, if the cost-benefit analysis of dating that smooth, handsome son-of-a-bitch turned out with a net positive. All of his careful calculations showed positive net-present values in perpetuity, Remus was set to be happy. But just like any business graduate knows; you can diversify your portfolio to escape operational risks, it’s the market risks that are harder to protect yourself from. 

The operational risks in this scenario were the two of them, Remus ponders, Ben, and himself. Remus could mold himself after Ben, compromise to avoid conflicts and steer clear from unruly tides. If that was the case then the market risks, the unforeseen and unavoidable ones, would be his straying ways and complete disregard for Remus’ happiness-

Okay, that’s enough. 

Remus closes the laptop still perched on his thighs. This is what happens when he stays up late and considers his past, his present, and his future. Even if the only thing he was trying to do was look for a new job.

He tosses the computer to the side, turns off the TV, and heads to the bathroom. After brushing and flossing his teeth, gurgling mouthwash because his dentist told him to do so, he slips under his heavy comforter in his bed. It’s slightly too large for just one person and Remus never really got over the habit of sleeping on the one side; he has four pillows in his bed and only actively uses two of them. Even after over a year, falling asleep by himself feels almost like a waste. 

It is here where the existential thoughts hit him the hardest. During the day, he has made sure to curate a very distracted existence where he doesn’t have to think too hard about the way he feels about things. It’s different here, where the silence is only broken by his own breathing and the shuffling of his own feet under the soft sheets. It was worse before, the depth of despair feeling almost unendingly deep. Now it’s just a reminder of things that were, and the projection of what he has in front of him.

Chapter Text

It’s Wednesday and just like any other Wednesday - or frankly, any other workday to be fair - Remus rides the bus to work and finds solace in a paperback he has read countless times before. He gets off at the bus stop and is today greeted by a fine mist of spring rain that re-dampens his hair and collects into small droplets on his water-resistant raincoat. Even if the rain has let up since last night there are still deep puddles in the potholes in the pavement leading Remus from the bus stop to the entrance of his office building, deep and large enough for his shoes and socks to get completely soaked as he steps in one by accident.

Great.

He greets the receptionist as always whilst his wet shoes squeak on the tiled floor and he rides the elevator as always. Gets his coffee sits down by his desk and manages to go through some emails, and chats a bit with Pete and Pomona - as always - before the clock strikes 9:50 and his Outlook calendar reminds him that he has his mid-year meeting in ten minutes.

It’s just enough time for him to rise from his chair, cross the office space, and walk into the break room to refill his coffee cup and add the smallest splash of milk. The machine huffs and puffs at him like he is doing it a disservice for refilling his cup. When he heads for Poppy’s office he walks past the sales team’s corner of desks for the second time that day, the messy desk with the picture pinned to the cushioned textile divider is empty, but a worn leather jacket hangs on the back of the chair.

Typical, Remus thinks. That’s gonna get ruined in the rain. 

When Remus knocks on the door he’s actually a bit early, but Poppy won’t mind and she knows him by now; the eternal time-pessimist who lives by the rule of 'on time is too late'. 

“Remus, come on in,” she says in the chipper tone of hers that never dulled despite the rain or the mundane air that always seems to follow a Wednesday.

“So, Remus. As you are probably well aware, we have been very happy with your performance since we last spoke,” Poppy flips through some papers in front of him as he sits on the chair opposite her at the desk. She takes the time to re-cross her legs and straighten out her long patterned skirt over her knee before clasping her hands on top of them.

“You’re on time as always, very few sick days during the last six months, you have shown growth in the developmental areas we last talked about - holding meetings and presentations. And I’m very excited for you to hold the financial PowerPoint presentation during this year’s conference. I think you’ll do a wonderful job with it - just between us two - I think Pomona’s ready to pass on that torch,” she gives Remus a small smile that lets him know this is the closest she will ever come to talking badly about a colleague of his. 

He smiles back at her because it feels like the right thing to do.

It feels good to smile at the person who recruited him to her team when he was a fresh graduate out of a master’s program and had dealt with a few hard months of job searching whilst working as a cashier at his local supermarket. He’s getting praise for his work ethic and how he’s growing into his role and taking on more responsibility.

Remus knows all of that, he knows that he could be sitting in her chair in a few years, rising the ranks at Horace’s Home & Business Services. He knows that that is what Poppy desires for him. 

“Thank you,” it’s the only thing Remus can say at this point, even if it feels like he should say more. Poppy looks at him for a second, pale blue eye behind her reading glasses and gray-streaked blonde hair in a low knot at the nape of her neck. She reaches her hand up, her nails are painted a bright pink, and takes the glasses off and Remus is immediately transported back to early adolescence, when his English teacher brought him to her office and asked why he was so angry at the world. Remus feels that same feeling now as he did then, he is about to be completely x-rayed by a kind authority figure. 

“What’s wrong, Remus?” she asks kindly after a second. And Remus feels himself getting tongue-tied for the first time since he was a teenager.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he replies, trying to show nonchalance by shrugging his shoulders and forcing a slight smile. “I’m all good, happy to hear about my performance, that’s all.” 

Poppy just continues to look at him, now skeptically, at his attempt at charade. It doesn’t take much. It did not take much when his English teacher asked him why he was angry and acting out, and it doesn’t take much now. Remus sighs, feeling that stone sitting on his chest, crushing his windpipe.

“I’m in a rut, I think,” is what he manages to get out.

“And why’s that?” Poppy asks ever so patiently. Remus sighs again. It’s definitely a difficult conversation to start and Remus feels like he is back in therapy by the way Poppy looks at him. 

“Is it work or personal?” Poppy starts, trying to coax it out of him.

“A little bit of both - possibly,” Remus begins, “I think I’ve realized that my days are very much the same and I’m not feeling as motivated as I thought I’d be feeling by now. I have a good job, I have hobbies, my own space, and everything is going just fine. It’s just- I guess I’m just feeling uninspired.” Poppy just looks to the left and Remus follows her gaze out the window where large raindrops are chasing each other down the glass pane. 

She nods her head slightly, thinking to herself.

“I get it,” she says at last. Remus just looks at his boss now because this is not really what he had imagined she would say, he had expected her to try to uplift him and encourage him to pick himself up by his bootstraps, get some sleep, and try again tomorrow. “I don’t think this job is for you, Remus.” 

Remus just gives her another look, unsure of what to say at this moment because this is by far the meanest thing she’s ever said to him. Does she think he can’t handle his job? Isn’t this what managers say right before they’re about to fire someone? 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Poppy says, chastising him. “I just mean, you are a very bright young man. You’ve already been here for five years and you’ve shown a great deal of development here - both personal and workwise. But you’re like a potted plant, you know?” Remus absolutely does not know. “You’ve grown out of your pot and until I retire, there's not really any larger pot for you,” she continues and the look she gives him is kind. 

“I can give you some managerial responsibility, but that just means managing other people and it wouldn't really be any challenge for you. Just a step aside from doing what you’re actually good at; financial analysis and projections. And lord knows Horace won’t allow me to compensate you for it. I can prepare you as much as you’d like for you to take over my position one day but I think you’re looking for something more. Something that can challenge you properly.” 

Remus just sits with her words for a second. Because she’s right. He wouldn’t like to take over managerial responsibility, that just means he has to conduct meetings like these with whatever git he’s set out to manage. He imagines himself sitting opposite Pomona at a desk similar to this one - trying to talk about career goals with a woman who has been at this company since it started. No thanks. 

“So what am I supposed to do?” Remus asked after he had let the analog clock on Poppy’s wall tick in the silence for some time. By the way Poppy speaks, he senses that she already has a plan for him. Maybe she wanted him to take over after her once when he was new and easily moldable and didn’t require his job to be anything more than an occupation that could provide a roof over his head and food in his fridge. Like her, perhaps, who had grown up children and an ex-husband and a book club she loved dearly. 

“Well, for starters - I think you should put together a glowing presentation for the conference,” Poppy puts her glasses back on the bridge of her nose, a determined gleam now shining in her eye. “And then I think you should look for a better job, in a better location, that offers more money and makes you feel excited every day going to work. Something you’re passionate about.” 

Remus feels his palms becoming sweaty and his pulse quickens. It feels like he is about to set off running, and if he did, maybe he wouldn’t be able to stop. Like when Forrest Gump ran in the movie - once he started, he just kept running. 

“And when you do, I’ll write you a killer recommendation.” 

*

Remus leaves Poppy’s office something like fifteen minutes later and for some unforsaken reason, the now heavy rain and gray skies do not seem so bothersome anymore. A slight relief from that pressure on his chest and he could feel the streams of fresh oxygen in his lungs. He feels lighter.

Poppy’s instructions were for sure easier said than done - finding a job he was properly excited about and polishing up his resume and ironing one of his good shirts for an interview. All of those tasks were still piling up in a mountain before him. But he had stepped onto that path now, he is on his way, and he has his boss’ encouragement at his back. So that is at least something. 

He sits back down on his desk and barely manages to enter his password to log into his computer as he gets interrupted once again. 

“Hey, Lupin,” a cheery voice says behind him and Remus briefly closes his eyes in annoyance.

Not now, he thinks, not right after I’ve had that heart-to-heart with Poppy and decided to change careers. Why can’t I get a few minutes of reprieve after that conversation? But Remus just swivels around to look at the person standing behind him.

Just behind him, a bit to the side stands Sirius Black, one of those over-the-top charismatic shits from sales who can never keep his voice down during the Tuesday morning meetings or during the times when he takes sales calls in the office and Remus can hear his laughter all the way back to his desk. Black has been employed at Horace’s for close to a year, he’s pretty decent at sales, and most importantly, he’s always late to turn in his reimbursement requests. He is the bane of Remus’ existence. 

See, Remus had definitely shared the whole office’s surprise when Black walked in, right on Poppy’s heels that rainy day in March last year. He had a face that didn’t belong here amongst the grayish-blue textile dividers and the potted ferns and the fluorescent lights. 

A face with high cheekbones and flawless skin and pale gray eyes, framed by shoulder-length black hair. And his always office-appropriate, but still outrageous, outfits. 

And he knows what he looks like, he knows that his clients love him. He knows that a red carpet would be rolled out underneath him if he just asked for it. He had the entire place wrapped around his little finger. Had Remus been a different man or had his entire past erased, he would probably also get lost in that smile and those eyes and that easy charisma - he is objectively gorgeous, and people find him funny. But no. Remus doesn’t do that anymore. He doesn’t let himself look long enough to be caught in that trance, only pain and heartache lie there. 

Sirius Black is now leaning with one hip against Remus’ desk, crossed legs clad in black slacks, his torso covered in what seems like a silk shirt, a dark green silk shirt with an extra button unbuttoned, showing off a sharp slice of collarbone and pale skin.

Who the fuck wears a silk shirt in this weather? Remus thinks, and underneath that leather jacket?

And he’s smiling at Remus with that signature grin that makes the whole office fall at his feet. Not Remus though, he has been left immune to overtly pretty men with slimy personalities. 

“Black,” Remus regards him with a distant politeness as always, because punctuality is important to him and he is ready to bet next month's paycheck on what Sirius is about to say next.

“Everything alright?” Sirius asks, still with that smile on his face, gray eyes glowing, entirely ignoring Remus’ short tone. He feels like he is being played with, like Sirius is treating this entire ordeal like it is a game between the two of them.

“Splendid,” Remus keeps the conversation to one-word replies and decidedly not giving Sirius the satisfaction of asking how he’s doing. Sirius just nods and purses his lips a bit, as if he’s deciding whether to continue his small talk despite Remus’ aversion. 

“I have some receipts I’d hoped you could look over - for reimbursement, that is,” Sirius places a handful of papers on Remus’ desk and next month’s paycheck is secured. Remus just sighs in response and glares, first at the papers and then at the man standing before him. Sirius just smiles back at him. 

“You know I needed these on Monday.”

“Yes, I know but I was gone all Monday and I couldn’t catch you yesterday. And besides, I know you have until Friday for everything to be reported in the system.” 

Remus almost interrupts him, “Yes, that’s because I don’t want to be late turning all the information in,” he is fuming at the audacity of it all. “I set that deadline for everyone to make sure everything is handled well in time. And I’ve told you this a hundred times before, Sirius. I don’t make exceptions.”

“So you’ve already turned in the last period’s reimbursement report then?” Sirius asks with an open, non-judgemental expression on his face. 

“Not yet,” Remus mumbles, feeling awkward for realizing that he could have, he had his finger on the button just yesterday. But he knew that Black would turn in his receipts late, and even if he didn’t like the man, he still gave him time to turn them in. Like a fool.

“Oh, s’all good then,” Sirius lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. “I’ll leave you to it!” and then he turns around to walk away, hair flicking over his shoulder like a lady in a shampoo commercial and leaves a trace of his signature scent after him - vetiver and cedar, something expensive and unattainable. 

Because of course, a person like him would have a signature scent. Something alluring and altogether distracting. 

“You know, Black. Most people don’t print these out. They just send them to me via email - or enter them by themselves in the system,” Remus calls to his leaving form, referencing the printed-out receipts that he knows always have digital copies. The paper is still warm from the bloody printer. Sirius just waves dismissively over his shoulder.

“But then we wouldn’t get to share such riveting conversations,” he says ironically, still walking back to his own desk and the tone of his voice makes Remus’ blood boil. It makes him want to wring the man’s neck, that total dissmisance of his job.

Remus presses his pointer finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose for a second to relieve the pressure that has started to build behind his eyes. It pushes his terminal glasses up and against his brow because, of course, Remus needs glasses for his job. He’s almost thirty and looks at spreadsheets all day and he works with a bunch of idiots at a boring office - obviously, he needs glasses. Remus releases the breath that he holds and opens the reimbursement system once again.

“He was here yesterday too,” Pomona says beside him and Remus rolls back enough for him to be able to see her because of the divider between them. 

“What?” Remus asks, not following along. 

“That Black kid,” Pomona reiterates still with her gaze fixed on the screen in front of her. “He came yesterday with his reimbursements, looked around the space like a lost child in the grocery store. Asked him what he wanted - said that he was here to turn in his receipts and such. I told him I could do it for him - I have log-ins to that system too, access for approval and everything. He just thanked me and left.” 

Remus doesn’t respond and just silently rolls himself back up to his desk, he puts the freshly printed papers aside for a second and opens Microsoft Teams. In his chat with Poppy, he formulates a quick message and sends it off, requesting a few minutes on next week's Tuesday morning brief to go over some routines. That’s all the pettiness he allows himself before he janks one of those papers back and starts to insert the reimbursement manually himself for one Mr. Sirius Black, employee ID: SiBl39401.

Entering the information does not take a whole lot of time - it’s tedious at worst. But it works as lighting a fuse for Remus’ temper and when he gets to the final expense printed on the last paper, he finds his catalyst. He promptly stands up and locks his computer screen before walking over to the desks huddled close to the entrance where the salespeople sit. 

“Where’s Sirius,” Remus asks the person who is his desk neighbor, annoyed as all hell once again. Alice looks up from her screen and shrugs her shoulders. 

“Think he went to the breakroom,” she gives him a questioning look as he storms off in the direction she pointed him to.

Sirius stands with his back turned by the coffee machine. He turns when he hears Remus enter. 

“What is this last expense?” Remus asks, containing his voice to light annoyance, not revealing the frustration that makes him want to tear at his hair. 

Frustration because Remus gets up early every morning, he swims laps in a basement swimming pool, he showers and gets dressed and eats his breakfast and he gets to work on time. Remus always pays his bills before they’re due, he made the smart choice of going to business school. He even acted mature after his ex-boyfriend tore his heart out of his chest and stomped all over it, got a new apartment and everything, and didn’t even feign sickness to get out of work during those first trying days. If Remus can handle all of that, then how is it possible that the person standing before him still has issues with filing his expenses?

Remus holds up the paper in front of Sirius who takes a sip of coffee and looks at him with curious eyes. 

“It’s a purchase-,” Sirius starts innocently before Remus cuts him off. 

“Yes it’s a purchase, but it’s not an approved purchase for reimbursement. We’ve been over this before.”

Remus continues, “And you bought a book,” he looks at the purchase once again, his anger haltering slightly as he reads the title of the paper. “Maurice,” he just says, because that’s one of Remus’ favorite books, he has loved it unconditionally for years. And something about the fact that Sirius Black tried to sneak it into his reimbursement expense feels… soft almost, kind of funny actually. 

The edge is gone from his voice as he says, “It’s a good book, I hope you’ll enjoy it - still, I– I can’t approve it as a valid business expense.” 

Sirius looks at him, he hasn’t said anything since being so rudely interrupted, stormy eyes shining in the fluorescents. 

“I did,” he just says with a small smile, “I did enjoy it, I mean. It’s possible I printed it out with the others, I’m sorry for the mistake, it won’t happen again.” He takes a small sip of coffee from his steaming cup and holds Remus’ gaze. 

Something about the prolonged eye contact drains him of any remaining frustration and forces a tingle at his fingertips.

Remus is the one who breaks the staring contest first, feeling bested and like he needs to leave the breakroom right this second. It feels almost like he just got out of the pool in the morning, blood coursing through his system and he can feel his heartbeat echo in his chest. 

“Right, make sure that you don’t repeat it,” he says and turns on his heel. His heart is still racing and he feels the flush of annoyance resurge once more.

It is such a physical feeling, anger, isn’t it?

Back at his desk, he realizes that he is still holding that same offending piece of paper, but rather than tossing it in the trash he leaves it on his desk. In fact, it remains on his desk that entire day. 

*

There is no climbing today and Remus has no other obligations so he just goes home when the clock strikes five. He waits for the bus and he gets on the bus and he rides the bus and he reads on the bus. Just like he always does. At home, cooking for one and a pile of not-yet folded laundry awaits him and Remus tries to imagine if everything felt like this before he broke up with Ben.

It did probably, but at least then he had the escapism of a home life and a small family of his own. 

Am I that codependent? Remus thinks as he realizes he has hung his happiness on the shoulders of a romantic partner and the hope he had felt after Poppy’s pep-talk feels close to extinguished. 

*

You see, the story actually starts out with two young men that met in university, during both of their last years to be more exact. Remus was figuring out what to write for his thesis and decided to quell his anxiety around the whole ordeal of nearly graduating and becoming a real adult - either going for a master’s degree or starting working, the only way university students know how - by going out an increasing amount. The university had a few pubs and a club on campus, fully student-driven, where he and most of his friends started spending more and more time at. On one of these nights, a young man is working the bar that actually makes Remus’ head turn - usually, he is not really like that, it takes him a moment or two to properly notice someone as being attractive. Not now - this time it is instant.

Remus is standing at the bar, waiting to order a drink when he spots him shaking something in a shaker and laughing with the patron across the bar. The loud music and overall debauchery of the place make it impossible for Remus to hear, but despite it all - he has caught Remus’ attention. It could be the way the lights catch on his strawberry blond hair or the way his broad shoulders stretch under his worn-down t-shirt. Maybe it's his genuine smile that draws Remus in. 

“What can I get you?” the boy asks as he stands in front of Remus, strong arms on the counter in front of him. Remus feels dizzy, he is twenty-one years old and feels fully out of it. He can’t remember ever feeling like that before. 

“Just a beer please,” Remus orders, because he can’t for the life of him remember anything from the menu, and he mustn't embarrass himself further.

The bartender pushes himself off the counter, “Coming right up,” he says with a smile. The bartender also pulls a shot for him and says it’s 'on the house' before he leaves to service Remus’ fellow students standing all around him. 

Remus hates to admit it, but he spent a lot of time trying to find that bartender and it isn’t until a couple of weeks later when he once again is being hypnotized by that smile once more, that he figures he at least can ask for the man’s name. “Ben,” he responds before writing his name and number on a small napkin and giving it to Remus. 

It turns out that Ben is a year below Remus and studies engineering, therefore having no really overlapping friend groups and no possible way of finding out anything about him without even his name. They start dating properly right after New Year's and they would continue to do so for seven years.

Remus is ,during this whole time, convinced that Ben is the one for him, Ben is funny in a slightly mean way and he is charismatic and way too good for Remus. And it shows. It’s evident when they go out together and random strangers will walk up to Ben and flirt with him, even if Remus is standing right next to him with his arm around his boyfriend. Ben will sometimes flirt back. Innocently enough for him to deny it as flirting and only blame it on politeness and his blood alcohol level. 

They fight on occasion, and when they do it’s with fire. Ben is outraged and Remus tries to calm him down, even if Ben is the preliminary instigator. But Remus is still so convinced that Ben is out of his league - couples fight sometimes, that’s what they do, and no one’s perfect. An overwhelming majority of the time, they are both so happy, and they make each other laugh. Remus will laugh when Ben says something funny that is also a little mean, even when the joke revolves around him. 

It’s not until years later when Remus has taken all of his stuff and moved them into the apartment that Ben had bought with the money he inherited from his grandfather - a small modern place filled with stainless steel appliances and a stairwell that still smelled of fresh paint, in the middle of the city where one had to be careful when opening the windows because the city air and noises would travel into their bedroom - that something turned out to be not quite as fine as Remus had believed at first. 

They had bought an iPad, or it was Ben’s idea at first. Just something for them to share where they could have all of their shared streaming services and newspaper subscriptions on. An entertainment iPad. But to set it up, someone needed to connect it through their phone plan, it was cheaper that way. So sometimes, Remus would be reading the newspaper on the iPad and get notifications that came from Ben’s phone.

And even though Remus harbored no suspicion that Ben was unfaithful, it felt like security to know that Ben couldn’t possibly be hiding something. And then along came the update.

A very innocent update apparently, so Remus just clicked it and the device turned off before turning it on again a while later, and the first thing that popped up was, what felt like, a tsunami of messages meant for Ben. Something had happened when Remus had chosen to restart the device and he later learned that Ben had managed a filter to ensure that all those incriminating messages did not get sent to the shared iPad.

But there Remus was, on an unassuming Tuesday morning, when Ben had just gone to work like twenty minutes ago, and Remus was still sitting with his coffee cup at the breakfast bar in their shared apartment. And the entirety of Remus’ life fell apart with the messages from men at work, from the bar they had attended together, or someone just called Henry - Tinder,  that was sent days and weeks ago, just kept flooding the device retroactively. 

His first response was not even sadness - no, that came so much later. Remus just got so incredibly angry. 

So Remus moved out, he went to stay at Lily’s place and got lucky enough for the stay to be temporary as he got a new apartment very soon thereafter. In the still shared Google calendar, Remus could pick a Sunday when he knew that Ben would be away and then he went back to the place he had called home for a few years and moved out all of the stuff he had brought into the place. It wasn’t a lot. Most of their shared things were stuff Remus had no desire to keep. It was mostly the rest of his clothes and some memorabilia that he quickly packed into boxes. And because Remus was a petty, petty man, he also took the coffee table that he had found at a second-hand store and all of the cutlery he had gotten as a graduation present from his family.

The new apartment is larger, and despite Remus’ lack of interest in interior design, it felt like home fast. With worn-down wooden floors that really needed a proper sanding down and a refrigerator that hummed loudly. Remus realized that maybe his style was not up to par with newly built apartment complexes with soulless features and clean white walls. Maybe it lay somewhere in drafty windows and kitchen cupboard doors that needed to be oiled frequently to avoid squeaking. Maybe it was because he could open the windows here, and hear the birds sing in the early morning light as he woke up, without stressing about air quality or the noises of busy streets.

How interesting, that his life could turn to the worse, whilst still guiding him towards something that was, at the end of the day, for something better.  

Chapter Text

The following days run their course as they tend to do and on Saturday Remus finds himself walking to a café in the city to meet up with Lily. The air outside is light and fresh, cleaner because of the spring rain that pelted the streets in the last few days. His body aches slightly - he had a harder climb on Thursday night and the consequences are still a sore reminder in his forearms and thighs.

The breezier temperatures had made him dig through his closet and find his old beloved denim jacket, paired with his black signature dickies, and felt almost handsome. Again, not that he considered himself to be ugly, just unremarkable.

Someone not so unremarkable sat in the sun on the café’s outdoor furniture with her head turned toward the sun, like in an effort to make those freckles that covered her entire face, sprout into existence again after a long winter. Long red hair, pulled into a ponytail, swishes when she spots Remus and she waves. She smells like citrus and expensive shampoo when they hug, and he is thrown into nostalgia consisting of late-night study sessions and the all too familiar taste of warm flat beer of their university days. 

“I grabbed us this table outside, wanna enjoy the weather,” Lily says after they finished hugging. 

Remus nods in the direction of the entrance, “Right, I’m just gonna go inside and grab something,” he says before he follows through.

Lily has a nice house with a porch they could have been sitting on, drinking coffee that wasn’t as overpriced whilst still enjoying the pleasant weather. But Lily also has a partner who she lives with, James, someone who he doesn’t mind seeing but can still make it slightly awkward just because they are coworkers. Then there’s the fact that both Lily and Remus spend most of their time at home or their respective workplaces. 

So when it comes time to spend time together, they make sure it is in a location where either one of them hasn’t spent too much time staring at the walls. The interior of the café is precisely the opposite environment of what Remus usually spends his time surrounded by; large potted plants hanging from the ceiling in macrame potholders, ironic printouts framed on the walls, and baristas with tattoos and funky dyed hair that compliments Remus on his vintage jacket. 

A bit later, with a steaming cup in front of him and already going through the usual updates of what happened the last time they spoke, Lily asks, “So how’re you feeling? Really?” 

Remus just sighs for the hundredth time that week as he twirls the coffee cup on the table before him. Lily looks at him with concern in her eyes, not that her particular brand of concern looks anything like pity - one of the reasons he likes her so much. She just cares without being patronizing, 

When he finally replies, he hates that his voice sounds so beaten down. “I don’t know, mostly the same old same old. Been thinking about Ben some, though.” Lily gets a fired-up look in her eye before Remus can assure her, 

“No, not like that, come on. It’s not like I miss him personally, I just feel kind of lonely. It has started to sink in for real, I think. Work’s kind of dull and I’ve been thinking of switching jobs and my life is just routine. So I feel very… aware of not having somebody.” 

“Have you gone out and dated at all since you two split?” 

Remus shrugs his shoulders, again reminded of the soreness there from Thursday, “Sure, but not like anything for real. It’s not been with any intention. I’m not even sure that what I’m looking for is anything with intention. I’d just like not to be alone anymore.”

“And a random hook-up is not for you really? I mean whatever it is you’re looking for, I might be able to set you up if you want to.” 

“I’m not sure about a random hook-up, more like– I don’t know. Casual - you know - 'let’s have a drink and see where that takes us', probably.”

Lily just nods for a second, thinking about it. “Wait, did you say you’re thinking of switching jobs?” 

This leads Remus to set out on a rant, describing his meeting with Poppy that he had this Wednesday, followed by the incident of one particular person in sales that grinds on his nerves. That makes Lily laugh at least, so the story is not only to air out his own irritation but also for her amusement.

“I just don’t get it. How can somebody, obviously gone through the entire recruitment process and heard me mention the policy countless times - and then still be so clueless when it comes to a routine errand of his position? Something like this happens every month with him.”

Lily just laughs at his exasperation, “Wait, who is this? I might know them from James.” she presses her fingertip to the corner of one eye, trying to dry a tear before it runs down her face. 

“Oh you for sure know who it is, I’ve complained about him before; it’s James’ golden child - Sirius.”

That makes Lily laugh again, “Really! No way, he’s actually- well, at least privately he’s very structured. From what James told me, they were delinquents in school but he cleaned up his act. He’s even really nice as far as I know him, very charming.”

Remus has a hard time believing that and he tells her just so, “Well, at work - he’s a mess. And it fucks up my routine.” he does not mention Sirius' proclivity to stand around his desk when turning in his reimbursement requests and the fact concerning the unauthorized purchase of one of his favorite books - that’s irrelevant.

“And we don’t want that,” Lily just says with a grin, knowing all too well what happens when someone messes with his routine. He just crumbles up the paper napkin that came with the coffee cup and shoots it at her face. A move she expects and manages to flick away easily, giggling.

“Is it just Sirius? Because I’ve heard you complain about him before, you’re definitely not a fan from what I can tell but you have a bunch of other coworkers.”

“Eh, some of them are alright, Pete - for example. Most are just dull as rocks.”

“I tell you all the time, you should just apply to come work at AP&W.” 

Remus shakes his head, “No chance, I don’t want to work with stuffy pretentious consultants.” 

“And as I also keep telling you, they’re not all like that. I’m not like that!.”

“Sure, I trust you when it comes to the Sustainability department, you lot don't feel as money-hungry as the rest. But I went to business school, I know exactly the type of people who are going to be in the finance and the risk departments.”

Lily just smiles at him, almost like she thinks he’s an idiot, ”Well, don’t believe me all you like. I still think you would like it there. Just let me know and I’ll set you up.” Remus just mumbles something incoherent into his coffee. 

*

Remus doesn’t believe in things like destiny or superstition. Most times, weird stuff can be blamed on circumstance or coincidences, like when Remus got an extra spring roll in his take-out box he did not think it was because of some type of cosmic event or any refilled pot of good karma that needed to be cashed out. Most likely, it was because the person working in the kitchen that day was overworked and tired and all those spring rolls started to melt together in their head, making it hard to count the correct amount. Or they were just nice.

Anyway, despite his convictions of this, he can’t help wondering what he managed to cock up to find himself in this situation on a previously lazy Sunday.

Remus had spent the day at home. He had vacuumed the floors and read a book on the couch with his favorite cup of tea placed on the coffee table. When his neck started going stiff he decided to look through his fridge and plan what to cook for dinner just to find it glaringly empty and prompted a trip to the grocery store.

So that’s where he was, standing in the middle of an aisle with two brands of quinoa in his hands whilst trying to figure out whether the more expensive option really is the better one.

That’s when he spots him, for the first time properly in about a year.

Ben.

Or rather, Ben is the one who spots him first.

“Remus? - oh my god - hi!” Ben says, with his shopping basket hanging from his clasped hand. 

He looks the same; the same strawberry blond hair that is neatly trimmed around his ears, the same hazel eyes, and the carefree grin. He is wearing jeans and a hoodie and looks good, really good.

But good in a way that does not fill Remus with that same electricity as before. Ben is good-looking, in a posh and uninteresting way, and for some reason, Remus does not find that to be appealing at all anymore. 

Remus is nailed to the ground below him, like a deer in headlights - staring straight at his ex-boyfriend who over a year ago pleaded with him to forgive him as Remus packed his things and left their home to go stay at a hotel. 

He didn’t stay that time, he walked out the door without a second glance and had only seen a glimpse of Ben in the last year during outings in town, when he went back to their apartment it was only to fetch the rest of his things and take them to Lily’s, orchestrated on a day Remus knew he wouldn’t be home. But during those occasions, Remus turned and walked the other way. 

Now there is no way for him to take the same easy exit.

He is so incredibly aware of the fact that he is still holding two brands of quinoa in his hands, wearing soft corduroy pants and his hoodie underneath the same denim jacket that he wore that night when the two of them met for the first time.

As if time stood still, nothing had happened since then and Remus was still the one frozen in place by the attention Ben gave him.

Remus swallows once, he will be an adult about this, “Hi Ben, long time no see,” it feels lame to say that like the two of them are old friends that just happened to lose touch.

“Yeah, one can say that. How have you been?” Ben responds easily, but Remus feels a slight satisfactory thrill as he spots the man redistributing his weight on his feet self-consciously.

Because Remus doesn’t feel that. He feels surprised, sure, definitely caught off guard, and very aware of his surroundings. But he holds the upper hand here, finally. And it feels good. 

“Good– I’ve been good. Work’s been fine, same old same old,” a real stretch to what essentially summarizes his conversation with Lily yesterday, but Ben doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t get to know that Remus feels trapped at work and that he is trying to break himself free of the fear of the unknown that job hunting can be. He doesn’t get to know that Remus sometimes only speaks when he is at the office and that cooking dinner for one is so incredibly depressing. 

Ben just nods his response and then there is a second of uncomfortable silence because Remus might be an adult about this but he will not carry on this conversation as if nothing has happened between them. He might have grown since the two of them met for the first time close to ten years ago - but he is not above being petty. 

Ben shuffles on his feet once more and Remus feels the surge of confidence because he is not the one who is most uncomfortable by the exchange, silently watching him squirm. “Right, well- It was good to see you,” he says and drags a hand through his hair, a move that used to make Remus stupid but does nothing for him now. A relief to find out, for sure. 

“Yeah, you too,” Remus can indulge him in that small white lie.

Ben turns to walk away but before he does he opens his mouth once more, “You look really good by the way,” paired with a quick once over. 

Remus just stares as the person he thought he was going to marry one day, walk out of the grain aisle. And maybe that is something people say when they run into their exes in the supermarket, maybe it’s a tradition Remus is unaware of because he only really has one ex to compare to. But that last statement felt odd.

“Wait, do I?” slips out before Remus can stop himself and he steels himself when Ben glances back over his shoulder and huffs a laugh, like Remus just reminded him of something funny. 

“Yeah, you really do,” he says genuinely, and then he leaves.

*

The words rattle around in his brain during the rest of his Sunday evening, bleed into the entirety of Monday, and still echo in his head when he enters the swimming pool early on Tuesday morning. The water is slightly cool, just enough for goosebumps to erupt over his skin before he gets used to the sensation.

'You look really good'

Ben’s voice tells him as he dunks his head underwater and kicks himself into gear, feet finding leverage on the tiles of the side of the pool and he starts swimming his laps. 

It’s not even the fact that it was Ben who said it, he thinks as he comes up for air for one short second. Or maybe it was, maybe it was that laugh that solidified the whole ordeal. Because Remus feels as if it came from something like an inside joke. That his perception of himself is so skewed that Ben laughed at it when it forced Remus to open his mouth and ask that clarifying question. And Remus can’t for the life of him figure out if it was in mocking or in exasperation.

It isn’t until he pushes the door to the office that he is once again distracted by the hustle and bustle of Horace’s on a Tuesday morning that the thoughts leave him. On Tuesdays, it always feels like there are about a hundred more people in the same space as yesterday, mostly because the sales team is all in all day. They are not a quiet bunch - especially when Remus comes in closer to nine, instead of his usual eight. 

“Morning, Lupin,” James Potter with his messy black hair and his permanently wide grin and crooked glasses says as he crosses the office in front of him, a steaming mug of coffee in hand as he makes his way from the break room to the sales team’s quarters.

If Remus wasn’t already aware of his HR rep’s - and best friend’s partner’s - friendship with a certain someone in sales, that might have been an odd sight to see. But not for Remus, he is not surprised as he hears the excited “Jamie” coming from the desk with the mess of cords and the glossy photograph. 

When Poppy gets everyone’s attention for this week's Tuesday brief Remus listens intently, just because he knows that he will be called up soon. It’s not like he is presenting anything important or even new, but speaking in front of people always tends to make his heart race. Nerves that he knows he will work through but are still present nonetheless.

Poppy is wrapping up now, “-and just as a reminder, the meeting rooms are still experiencing some technical difficulties. The card readers that allow access have some connectivity issues so make sure not to close the doors behind you fully or you’ll risk locking yourselves inside. I think that was all I had for today, and then I’ve been made aware that Remus would like to share something. Remus if you could just- yes perfect, come stand right here,” she says as Remus steps up beside her and casts his eyes toward his audience. There is a deceivingly large amount of them.

“I don’t really have any exciting news for you, just a reminder really that I want us all to think about here on out,” Remus starts, meeting the tired glances of everyone present. “As you all know I sit with the reimbursements you all hand in, approve what will be compensated, and such. This mostly applies to sales but I know that all of us have the option of handing in receipts for reimbursements, that’s why I wanted to make this reminder for everyone.” 

Remus’ eyes move over the audience, meeting nodding heads in understanding from most of his coworkers, giving him a show of intently listening to what he says. 

“When it comes to the approval process, there are deadlines that need to be followed. I only have until the last Friday before payday to submit the forms of approved compensation to ensure it ends up on this month’s paycheck. For me to be able to do that on time, I need your cooperation to submit your requests no later than Monday that week.”

One of the people so intently nodding to what he is saying is James, standing with the sales team still with his cup of coffee in hand. Had it been any other day, Remus would have found him on the opposite side of the office. Now he stands next to his slightly shorter best friend and the cause of this entire meeting that Remus so stubbornly had asked for. 

Sirius Black is an average-height man, making him shorter than both Remus and James, his black hair is long and shiny and draped over one shoulder and he is once again wearing a dark-colored shirt that shows off the appealing contrast between his pale skin and the darker fabric. Sirius is looking at Remus now - paying close attention, and just because they are both looking at each other, their eyes meet. Soft pale gray eyes under fluorescence and above nasty old carpet that make mortal men appear sickly and wrong, they have nothing on Sirius Black and the depth of his beauty.

Remus can feel his mouth moving, he is still talking but he has no idea what he is saying. Not when Sirius is looking at him like that, he feels like all of his coworkers - falling into hypnosis without Sirius even uttering a word.

Remus looks away, “-also when it comes to what you can actually submit for reimbursement. We only offer to compensate for business expenses. Anything bought for pleasure cannot be approved-”

That feels like the wrong thing to say. 

Pleasure. 

And because he is no longer in charge of what his mouth is saying or what his body is doing, his eyes wander back to Sirius’, to find them still digging into his physical being, now with a small secret smile on his lips. It’s almost tangible. Remus wants him to keep looking. Reasons are unknown. 

“Any questions?” Remus finishes his little monologue still with that weird disorienting feeling in his chest and what feels like a thousand degrees that warms his face and the edge of his collar. 

Is he blushing? 

He never blushes during meetings anymore?

His audience appears not to have any follow-up inquiries about the reimbursement policy and Remus just walks back to his desk on legs that feel like he just mastered the hardest problem at his bouldering gym - unsteady and prickly with lactic acid. 

That feeling stays with him for the rest of Tuesday. 

*

Remus looks up and tries to find the correct grip, the one he is holding is about to slip through his fingers. When he finds the correct color that represents the problem he is currently working on he can finally heave his way up to the end and he can hastily get himself down about halfway before jumping off and landing on the soft mat on the floor.

“Nice!” Fabian gives him a high five before walking up to the wall next and starting to figure out his path. Remus passes him and manages not to wobble too badly on the soft padded mat in his tight climbing shoes that squeezes his toes as he makes his way to Dorcas who stands with her arms crossed at a safe distance.

“By the way, did I tell you who I ran into the other day,” Remus starts and stretches out his fingers against his other palm. 

Dorcas, ever the ear for gossip, quickly turns her head from Fabian to him, “Who?” her eyes wide. 

“My ex, you know the one - the asshole I told you about?” Remus says, indulging in the shit-talking possibilities the information provides, also giving Dorcas that same joy. 

“Really? The one who cheated with about a hundred different guys and was a general shithead who then claimed your entire friend group and made you start climbing,” she says, actively summarizing his entire life in the last year. 

Remus grins, had this conversation taken place around sixteen months ago he would have sulked, not anymore, “That’s the one,” he says and laughs slightly. 

Dorcas’ mouth is an o shape and she looks incredibly delighted - sometimes Remus wonders what she was like as a teenager if this is how she acts as a thirty-something. 

“Wow,” she starts, “What happened? What did you guys talk about?” 

“It was quite anti-climatic actually. We ran into each other at the grocery store, you know the one closest to me? - the one I go to just because it’s nowhere near the one we used to go to together,” Dorcas nods, urging him to continue.

“We just said hi, he said it was good to see me - I lied, said it was good to see him too.” Dorcas laughs at that one.

“Yeah, it felt weird at first, like— I haven’t seen him properly since the breakup, you know, and then he’s just standing there. And I feel nothing! I think that’s the best part, like it doesn’t matter that he’s still hot and I feel like a bum ‘cause the genuine attraction is just gone. And I’m just… cool about it.” He shrugs.

Dorcas smiles wide, “Good for you, Lupin.”

“There’s just one thing that’s stuck on my mind. When he walked away and I was left there with my quinoa, he looked me up and down and told me I looked good. So of course I asked him ‘What really?’ like an idiot, and then he said ‘Yeah, you really do’. Isn’t that weird?”

Dorcas laughs, “Not really, I mean— you do look good, even I can see that and I have no interest in men in general.” Remus wants to correct her, wants to say something that contradicts the fact but he finds that it doesn’t really matter. Maybe he does look good - despite his previous notion in the grocery store that he is still the same person betrayed by his former boyfriend, he has certainly changed in the last year. And maybe that reflects. 

“What a dick, though,” Dorcas finishes and Remus can’t help but agree. 

Even if the interaction with Ben had left him feeling rattled, he is by now - a few days removed - feeling pretty confident by the whole ordeal. It is as if he got confirmation that the entire relationship is finally behind him and that there are no longer any lingering feelings that might persuade him to go back if just asked one more time. He stood up for himself, even if there were no altercations or conflicts to begin with.

So Remus takes that as a win.

What he doesn’t mention, however, is the other time he was rattled that week - that same day to be exact. He doesn’t mention gray-blue eyes and the soft expression and wavy black hair. He will not speak of the rush in his chest or his pounding heart. He will barely acknowledge it himself.

*

Remus got a text he hadn’t looked at yet, somewhere around nine this morning. He lazes about on his couch, creating what seems to become a permanent indent in the cushions as he watches Love Island on the TV. He opens up his messages now and sees a screenshot from his mother of the digital train tickets that will take them to the city in a few days. They’re set to arrive at six in the evening, meaning Remus has just enough time to get home and change before taking his parents to their hotel and going out for a meal. 

It’s one of his father’s friends' sixtieth birthday and the old gaggle of six soon-to-be retirees had decided to go watch a football game on Saturday, accompanied by pints and grub at the pub - that’s why they’re coming up for a visit. This also leaves Remus and Hope to fend for themselves for almost the entirety of the day.

Hope, who always envied Remus for moving to a larger city because of the abundance of cultural activities will instead be treated to a concert performed by the orchestra at the theater followed by a tasting menu with wine pairings at a somewhat swanky restaurant - courtesy of her dear son. Remus double-checks his booking reservations and the concert tickets whilst still remembering to do so.

They’re there - and they’re for the correct date and time.

Perfect.

Remus turns off the TV and goes through the motions of what consists of his nighttime routine. He washes his face and brushes and flosses his teeth. As he crawls into bed he applauds himself for taking the time to wash his sheets during the weekend as they are still smelling of laundry detergent and they feel crisp and cool against his skin.

Remus falls asleep with a slight feeling of determination - because he is proud of himself for the last few days. He even feels confident enough that this whole job-hunting business will soon be sorted and the rut he has found himself in will find an expiration date. 

In his dreams he sees pale gray eyes, softly smiling at him. They emit something soft and warm and inviting and Remus does not hesitate to drown in them. He finds soft hair and smooth skin under his fingertips, realistic enough that he will remember it in the morning and wonder where it came from. Smiles and unspoken words on flush lips and blushing pale skin. 

It’s a lovely dream. 

And it will confuse the ever-loving fuck out of him when he wakes up the next morning, alone and aching in his bed. 

*

It was March last year when the whole office had buzzed around with the news of a newcomer to the sales team at Horace’s. 

Gossip had spread as soon as the recruitment process was over and everybody already knew that James Potter had to let a coworker perform the first HR interview just because he knew the candidate from before. 

Poppy had let everybody know that Sirius Black was to be starting his first day that Monday and hoped that they would all make him feel welcome - a highly stupid name according to Remus, who really wasn’t one to talk when it came to unique names.

Remus was deep in the trenches of his anger and his grief and one could certainly say that he matched the March weather outside, gray and surly, constantly gloomy and cold. He had found a new place - but there had been delays in the deliverance of his mattress and bedframe and he had slept a few nights on a blow-up mattress in the middle of an unfurnished apartment.

So when Poppy walked in at nine o’clock that Monday morning, Remus was not the best person to meet if the new hire looked for a warm welcome. 

The whole office acted like excited schoolchildren and when the candidate had stepped through the entrance and into Poppy’s office, it didn’t take long for the whispers to spread to all corners. 

“He’s very hot,” Alice just whispers as she walks by the finance and accounting desks, almost like delivering a secret message - quick to pass and deliver before scurrying back. 

Remus remains uninterested. 

Who cares if the new sales associate is hot? What was the point if he was hot or not?

He just wanted this whole place to get back to the monotony of everyday, to leave this pool of excitement before his eyes rolled so far back into his brain that they got stuck in there. 

Remus barely acknowledges the sound of Poppy’s door opening and closing again in the distance, her short steps and kitten heels a dull thud on the carpet. This time paired with another set of feet.

Poppy speaks animatedly, that much he can hear, “-and here’s where HR sits, you’re familiar with James from what I hear-.” And her voice becomes clearer and then more muted as they pass through the different departments and the tail following her around gets introduced by everyone. 

Remus goes back to his spreadsheets and tries to figure out why the fuck his calculations just end up displaying a series of #######.

He looks through the formula again, presses enter with too much pressure and he wants to toss his keyboard out the wind-

“And this is finance and accounting, this right here is Peter.” 

“Hi, Pete’s fine. Welcome, nice to meet you.”

“Pete, alright. Name’s Sirius, thank you.” 

He sounds posh, Remus thinks with disdain.

“Pomona,” she stands up and extends her hand almost over Remus’ shoulders to shake his hand.

“And this is Remus,” Poppy said when she realizes that he is not about to pause his work without being asked to.

So Remus looks up.

And something just stops.

Sirius Black has a stupid name and long black hair and he is wearing a light gray button-down that makes the gray of his eyes really stand out. High cheekbones and flush lips and long eyelashes makes him pretty in a highly androgynous way and Remus feels the need to clench his jaw tightly. 

Remus may be petty, and he may be angry, but he was never one to be impolite so he stands up to shake the newbie's hand. It’s all long slim fingers that look porcelain in his scarred hand and it feels wrong. 

The two of them are not supposed to hold hands, touch skin, exist in the same dimensional plane - that much is very clear to Remus who just says, “Remus. Welcome.”

He can see Sirius swallow - the bob of his Adam’s apple in his elegant throat and gives Remus a small smile. First-day-nerves no doubt. 

His voice is soft and polite when he says, “Sirius, nice to meet you,” and because Remus doesn't make the habit of lying he says nothing, only nods his head and sits back down.

Poppy speaks up again, “Remember the reimbursement process we talked about? Remus is the one to talk to if you have any questions.” 

Remus faintly hears the two of them leave their little corner of the finance and accounting department. 

Then he hears Sirius laugh, in that polite way you do when you try to joke with your boss, “Good, I’ll probably need loads of help, it sounds very complicated.”

Remus looks at his cursed Excel spreadsheet once more. Hits the enter key too hard again.

#######

Chapter Text

Hope Lupin’s voice could wake the dead as she screams across the arrival hall of the train station, “Remus, sweetheart!” 

He is again reminded of the absolute madness that the two of them are related.

Still, a smile splits his face and he walks quickly to meet his two parents standing next to their weekend bags. 

His mother, Hope, is a short woman with a kind face and laugh lines around her mouth and crow's feet that spread like sun fans from the corner of her eyes. Remus remembers sitting in her lap as a young child and tracing them with his small finger. “Why do you have those?” he would ask and she would just laugh, making the lines appear more prominently before answering, “Because you make me laugh so much, love.”

They are deeper now, the crow's feet, and they stretch almost all the way out to her shoulder-length ashy hair that will shift from blonde to gray seamlessly. Remus tucks his face into it when they hug and she still smells like freshly baked bread and those incense sticks they keep in the bathroom and closet. Like home, no matter how cliche that is.

Remus is immediately aware that his last bout with genuine physical affection was a week ago when he met up with Lily. It’s fine. 

His father on the other hand, Lyall Lupin, his face is also lined but with a deep furrow between the eyebrows that never seems to let up no matter how big he is smiling. “That one’s a worrier,” Hope would say and point to his father’s stoic face across the kitchen table when Remus was small enough to sit in her lap, she said it jokingly, and Remus would giggle. 

“How are you, son?” Lyall asks in his ear as they are hugging, it feels steady and strong and Remus neither of them has to crouch down for the embrace which is welcomed. 

“Not bad,” he says and it’s neither a lie nor the full truth, it is somewhere in between and neither at the same time. 

The three of them finish their greetings and Remus ends up winning the tug-of-war with his mother about her bag and carries it for her to the hotel.

His parents settle in and they go out for dinner at a small but lovely restaurant that is different enough for them to experience the cuisine offered in a large city but still familiar enough for Lyall Lupin to find something to eat on the menu. 

They order a bottle of wine to the table and Remus is brought back to the teasing and the discussions at his kitchen table back home, the only difference is Remus no longer being small enough to sit in his mother’s lap. 

Now he can share a drink with them as they gossip about neighbors and people Remus went to kindergarten with that he no longer remembers the faces of. 

It feels comfortable, it feels like something he can tether himself to in this moment of full unclarity about it all. And he gets to appreciate it there, in a small Italian restaurant over pasta and red-checkered tablecloth. 

*

Hope musters a sigh as soon as they sit down for a cup of coffee, shopping bags scattering at her sides and taking up space on the bench by the table they chose. 

“My feet are killing me,” she says a bit too loudly when Remus comes back with their drinks and he laughs at her candor. He puts her large latte mug in front of her and keeps the much smaller cappuccino for himself. 

“It’s penance,” he says with a small smile and takes a frothy sip of his hot coffee, “For our careless spending,” he clarifies when Hope looks at him questioningly.

Hope just scoffs, “This is my weekend to treat myself, lord knows I don’t do that enough. Especially not with my son.”

Remus can’t help feeling grateful and almost bashful as he sees his mother’s determined face. So he just takes a sip of the still too-hot coffee in his cup and keeps it to himself.

“And you’ve barely bought anything,” she continues and gestures to the small paper bag that Remus hung on the back of his chair. 

It’s a new shirt, a nice one, that he plans to wear under his suit tonight. Not that he really needed a new dress shirt - he has a full closet of them at home, but Hope convinced him that the off-white shirt now folded in a bag was nothing like the stark-white ones he has at home and that the color really complemented his coloring. 

Hope shifts the conversation, “So how’s it at work? You mentioned it yesterday but I felt like you glossed over the whole ordeal pretty quickly. Still like it?”

Always so perceptive, his mother. 

Remus swallows his sip, “To be honest, I feel kind of done with it. Since Ben, things have just gone by on routine and I’m looking for something else, which is dull by itself but Poppy supports me and… Yeah, it’s just- I don’t feel like being stuck anymore, you know.”

Hope looks at him for a bit, it reminds Remus of the conversation from a few weeks ago when Poppy had sat mulling over their conversation.

“What about it feels dull?”

Remus takes a deep breath, “A little bit of everything I guess, my duties are not that difficult - I feel like I could do an entire workday in my sleep, the coworkers are fine but they’re not… They’re not really stimulating to work with. The one who I work closest with, Pomona, I think she’s just clocking in and waiting for retirement - and that’s fine for her I just- I wish I could have a team with coworkers that I actually want to work with, talk to and all.” 

Hope nods, “That does sound dull. No one at all fun? That could bring some challenge or riveting conversation. Sometimes a job can be dull but you’ll still stay because of the coworkers” 

“No-,” Remus pauses because wasn’t that exactly what Black had called their encounter last time he required help with the reimbursement process?

Riveting conversations - what a dick.

“Not really, I mean there’s one who grinds my absolute gears but I’m not so sure that counts.”

“Why?” Hope now smiles teasingly. “What about them grinds your gears?” 

“He’s just annoying, everyone raves about how talented he is and how good at his job he is. Then he turns around and has issues with the smallest things. Sometimes I think he does it on purpose to rile me up; like it’s all a clever game that he plays.” 

“Wow, sounds like a grave conspiracy you’ve cooked up there.” 

Remus is now very aware that his mother is teasing him. He just rolls his eyes in response.

“So, how’s your job then?”

“Oh you know, just clocking in and waiting for retirement,” Hope teases. Remus can’t help but again roll his eyes again over the coffee cup that actually acts as a shield covering his smile. Of course, she would take that one and roll with it. 

Hope moves on, “And how’s dear Lily? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

“She’s good, still going strong with James that she met at the Christmas party I told you about. They live together and everything, got a nice house this winter.”

Hope cradles her cup between both of her hands, “A house even, that’s impressive!”

“Yeah, well she makes a lot of money at AP&W and he comes from money so- I don’t think they had to reach too far into their pockets for that one.” 

“Why don’t you go work with Lily? At AP&W I mean, they hire people with your background, no?”

“I’m sure they do but I won’t because I don’t want to be a smarmy consultant - no thanks. I just want to work with numbers and do charts and go home by five in the afternoon and actually manage to clock out and not think about work until the next day.”

Remus’ mother gives him a long look over the rim of her cup, “Darling, isn’t that exactly what you’re doing right now? And didn’t you just say that you felt stuck in your routine? Why not change the entire thing, try something new?”

Remus is rendered silent by the lack of support, and from his own mother nonetheless. That feels like the gravest insult. 

*

The interior of the theater is covered in gilded decorations on the walls and the ceilings have been painted with cherubs and clouds. The tiled floor underneath Remus and his mother’s feet shines freshly polished and the crowds of people around them are all dressed in dark suits and fine dresses.

Remus tinkers nervously with the collar on his new cream shirt, purchased just that day, and feels like he should have bought cufflinks and a tie to his dark suit, perhaps.

His mother doesn’t seem to mind as she re-wraps the shawl around her shoulders and touches the back of her French twist delicately as they look around the room.

“Drinks?” Remus nods in the direction of the bar where servers in light suits are pouring drinks to the patrons. 

“Please,” is his mother’s only response and they shuffle over - Remus in the direction of the bar and Hope to find a tall table to stand by.

“Two glasses of prosecco, please,” Remus asks the bartender who nods and fetches the bottle. 

Hope wants to treat herself, and Remus is nothing but an attentive son who knows that she prefers prosecco over Spanish cava any day.

A cork pops in the linen cloth held by the bartender and he places the two glasses of sparkling pale wine in front of him. Remus pays the tab and collects the glasses before turning around to find his mother.

Scanning the filling room for a short woman in a black dress is easier said than done in the sea of people who are mingling about in their finery. Until he spots something else. Or rather, someone else.

Arm in arm with a chestnut-haired woman stands a man in an expensive black suit. The line of his back shows off the tailoring and the impeccable posture, he holds his head high as he speaks with his companion. The midnight black hair falls past his shoulders and is collected at the nape of his neck with a small black ribbon and it shines in the light of the chandelier. 

The man turns and Remus spots his profile. High cheekbones and pale skin and dark eyebrows and flush lips. 

There is something elegant about Sirius Black that Remus hasn't seen before, a trained movement as he glances around the room.

Remus quickly heads in the direction that he just now spots his mother in, determined not to be noticed by his coworker. 

“Oh! Sparkling, how lovely,” Hope grabs the glass stem from between Remus' fingers and they cheers with a small clink to the glasses. She hums approvingly with her lips pressed together as if trying to contain the flavor of the dry wine in her mouth. Remus can’t help but agree, it is a lovely wine.

“You remember what I told you earlier? About my annoying coworker,” he asks quietly and Hope leans in to hear him better, nodding for him to continue. “I think he’s here. Or rather, he is here-”

“Then we have to go meet him!” 

“Absolutely not, I just told you tha-” 

He didn’t get further before being rudely interrupted.

“Remus! I didn’t know you had tickets to the concert tonight.” 

Remus turns around just to see Sirius standing behind him.

Even Remus could admit that he looked heartbreakingly gorgeous in the fine black suit with a slightly sheer cream-colored flowy shirt tucked into the waistband of his slacks, a large bow tied loosely around the base of his long pale throat. 

A pussy bow blouse as Lily would have called it and Remus would have giggled at it.

He isn’t giggling now. 

No, he is so far from giggling.

When Remus makes no effort to introduce the man to his waiting mother, Sirius takes it upon himself to stretch out his hand to the woman, “Good evening, I’m Sirius, I work with Remus.” 

Hope shakes his hand enthusiastically, “Nice to meet you, Sirius. I’m Hope, Remus’ mum.” 

He gestures to the woman at his side, completely forgotten by Remus as soon as Sirius stepped up to them. “This is Andy, my date for the evening-”

Whatever Sirius says next falls fully on deaf ears as Remus processes that information. 

He could’ve sworn Sirius was gay, would’ve bet on it probably.

It’s hard to explain but when you’ve been out for a while, moving around circles of people and acquaintances of all sexualities and gender expressions and presentations, you sort of get a good feel of finding other queer people. 

And according to Remus, Sirius is most likely gay. Or bisexual perhaps, he corrects himself. He could definitely still be queer and in a relationship with a woman, it’s not unlikely. That just means he’s not single. 

Huh.

Sirius is not single.

Why is that disappointing? 

Or what else can he call the churning in his gut, that tension that forms, making everything feel sour and bad? 

Of course Sirius isn’t single, have you even looked at him properly? 

He may be obnoxious and arrogant but some people like that, right? At least enough to go out with him. 

A pair of gray eyes turn to him. The two newcomers having made themselves at home around the table. Stormy skies and treacherous oceans lie in that gaze of his. Remus is pulled out of his trance.

“I didn’t know this was your thing,” Sirius gestures around the foyer of the theater with a nonchalant twist of his wrist. 

“I’m not sure if I would call it my thing, really. Mum’s never been and she likes classical music. Figured I’d take her.” 

She’s at the moment locked in conversation with the chestnut-haired woman that Sirius brought over on his arm.

Sirius just nods with a smile playing on his lips, the sharp cupid's bow stretching slightly. “Your mum is lovely,” he says after the small bout of silence. 

“She is,” Remus agrees, no longer feeling that tightness of annoyance and irritation that usually follows conversations with one exasperating salesman. “She’s the best.”

Sirius lifts his own glass of red wine to his lips and sips on it. Remus looks away from the sight of his long eyelashes tickling his cheeks and the pursed action of lips around the rim. 

He is careless for wearing that shirt and drinking red wine, Remus thinks a bit breathlessly.

It’s slightly awkward, the silence, Hope and Andy seem to pay them no mind and even Sirius is the picture of calm confidence as Remus squirms inside his own skin. This is why he didn't want to greet them when his mother asked, they have nothing in common besides their workplace and that might be the last topic Remus wants to talk about now. 

“So is this your thing then?” Remus asks and his voice sounds rough and bitter. Sirius just looks at him confused. “Concerts in fancy theaters and all,” he clarifies again, feeling like a bumbling idiot in this place where he doesn’t belong speaking to people he shouldn’t associate with. 

“You could say that,” Sirius swirls his red wine, “I went frequently as a child, never enjoyed it at that point - had to sit still for too long. Then my brother started playing violin professionally and I went to all of his performances, especially when I could get the discounted tickets as a university student.”

That solidifies it, the two of them are officially from two different worlds. Sirius’ childhood was filled with fancy theaters and expensive suits, his own with threadbare jeans and being picked last in gym class.

“What did you study?” The question is out of his mouth before he can stop it from coming really. 

It’s just small talk and Remus hates small talk. At the same time he is interested to know, he never really pegged Sirius as an academic. If one would have put a gun to his head he might have guessed he studied art or something, something creative-

“Law”

“Oh,” 

What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? 

“I didn’t know that,” is what he settles on and he gets to watch Sirius huff a laugh into his wine glass before taking yet another sip. “Why are you a salesman if you have a law degree?”

Again, Remus should just tape his mouth shut, what fucking right does he have to ask that question? 

“Law wasn’t really for me,” Sirius looks up at him and appears not to have taken any offense to the probing question. “The work was very solitary and my colleagues acted as much as coworkers and as competition. A lot of all-nighters just for the hell of it, trying to see who could stay longer at the office. Drugs and alcohol were very prevalent in the area I worked in. Not really sustainable in the long run.”

Remus gets the feeling that Sirius is really speeding through his reasoning with a sort of casual nonchalance that may be exaggerated, like the reasons were a bit more serious than he lets on.

“And Horace’s is?” Remus asks incredulously.

He is treated with laughter. One of those laughs that he has heard across the office more times than he can count, where Sirius tosses his head back and barks out in pure enjoyment.

It sounds… lovely actually. Not at all disturbing in here - amongst the finery and the bubbly drinks. It breathes life into the former lull of the conversation. 

“No, perhaps not. But I’m… I need that stability, that routine. See, when me and James were young and in school, we got into so much shit,” he smiles nostalgically, “I think we spent more time in detention than in our dorm rooms at some point. But that only worked because we had heavy-handed teachers that straightened us up, straightened me up. See, rebelling is only fun if you have an authority figure to piss off.” 

Sirius smiles mischievously and there’s a twinkle in his gray eyes that makes Remus take another sip of his prosecco to rehydrate his now-dry mouth.

“When I got to uni and no one no longer gave a shit what I got up to, everything just got harder. I need that stability of having a boss to tell me what to do, and at what time to do it, and if I don’t then I’ll face the consequences. I didn’t have anyone or anything in uni or at my former job, anything that could keep me in check. I need someone to tell me what to do.” 

Remus is imagining the undertone of that last phrase. He is pathetic. 

”You have to get into a lot of shit then, if you have the proper stability at work.”

Sirius smiles back at him again and it feels easy, the back and forth.

“Not nearly as bad as I would’ve liked.” 

That...

That tone is hard to ignore. And the eye-twinkle.

Remus considers this a moment before Sirius continues, “Really, I actually like working at Horace’s. Don’t you?” 

Remus huffs slightly, it’s more of a laugh than a scoff, “I’ve been there for five years.” 

“That is not an opinion about our shared workplace, that’s just a fact,” Sirius probes with a crooked grin. 

It suits him, that smile. 

Remus heads in another direction, “I heard about the sales trip, you must be excited about that.” 

Thank god Sirius takes the bait.

“I am - we’re leaving right after the conference though so I don’t think there’ll be much rest. It’s going to be a long two weeks.” 

“Horace really splurges on you, doesn’t he?”
Sirius grins and it looks wicked and indecent in the low light of the foyer, “Well, we’re the ones who bring in the large deals so why shouldn’t he.”

Right, why shouldn’t he?

Doesn’t Sirius deserve to be spoiled? 

The way he is standing there dressed in his finest and drinks slowly from his glass, the way his hair is laid and how he keeps eye contact over the glass. He looks like someone who deserves to be spoiled.

Remus changes the subject once more, “So you’ve known James since school. That’s a long time.” He can tell that Sirius can tell that he’s not interested in discussing their current employment, and he goes along with it.

“Yes, since we were eleven, got close to his parents too. My family was shitty so… Well, his family sort of took me in at sixteen. The rest is history.”

That’s one way to put it, Remus thinks as they both sip from their glasses. 

It strikes him that this is probably the longest conversation they have shared so far - and Remus isn’t hating it.

Sirius is open and direct and doesn’t sugarcoat his story in the slightest, he manages to offer the truth whilst still not over-sharing in that awkward way some people do. And Remus is comfortable with letting Sirius do the talking and he does the questioning. Because Remus is one of those people who tends to overshare awkwardly if presented with the opportunity to do so.

“Or, well - parts of my family are alright. My brother and I are close, hence why I’m spending a Saturday dressed up in a suit in a theater filled with my parents’ crowd.” 

Remus just looks at him questioningly.

”Rich dickheads,” he clarifies, “But my brother is performing tonight, has a solo and everything. I think it should be mentioned in the program,” Sirius explains as he flips through the pamphlet lying on the table, “Here,” he points to a name.

Regulus Black.

A bell signals to the patrons that it is time to take their seats. The four unlikely table companions finish their drinks and bid adieu as they move to their respective entrances. Remus and his mother have seats a bit further back in the orchestra seats. Sirius and Andy have a box - apparently. 

“They were lovely,” Hope says as they sit down in their assigned seats and wait for the lights to dimmer slightly. “Still grinding your gears even outside the office, ‘cus it sure didn’t look like it.” She jabs him with a sharp elbow to the ribs.

When the lights go down and the spotlights are lit the orchestra takes their seats under roaring applause. 

Remus can’t help but scan the boxes and spot the aristocratic profile of Sirius, nose and cheekbones and soft gaze and all. 

It’s difficult to look away, the music turning into background noise that sets the entire scene.

Then Sirius waves and the violinist who just walks up the stage tosses an eye his way. He is young and with shorter hair than his brother, face a bit more severe but with the same glint in his eyes. 

It is then Remus realizes that the brothers in the photograph are all grown up, from the confining spaces of a home clearly broken - lead to music or a quiet career in a dull office. 

They must be close, Remus thinks as he looks to the box, for Sirius to have that photograph pinned on the divider of his desk, for him to smile like that to his brother who plays so beautifully on stage.

And Sirius Black, with his wide grin and flailing waving hand, is a person outside of failed reimbursement requests and successful sales calls. 

Why that feels surprising, Remus does not know, maybe because he has shared an office with him in the last year but never really lets himself see the coworker for who he is besides the time Sirius comes to bug him with this or that at his desk. 

When Remus closes his eyes in bed that night he dreams of black suits and gilded foyers and light twinkling eyes underneath black eyelashes. It’s the taste of dry prosecco on the tongue paired with something sweet and soft. 

*

Remus spreads a generous helping of butter on his toast. The brunch restaurant is filled with conversing adults and babbling children and noisy espresso machines. Waiters are shuffling in between the crowded tables and the noises echoes from the tiled floors that lack carpet.

“It was all so lovely; the musicians, the venue, the drinks. I felt really fancy, put my hair up and everything,” Hope prattles on, recounting their evening yesterday to her husband who just listens lovingly, chewing his beacon. 

“Did you also have a good time, son. Put your hair up and all,” Lyall grins to his son over his brunch plate to his son opposite the table that sits next to his mother.

“Sure, it was quite nice,” he responds, having finished his bite. “Very talented musicians.” 

“And I even got to meet a coworker of his, a real looker if I can be bold enough to say so,” Hope continues, “Isn’t he handsome? Reminds me of those fashion models from the nineties.” 

Lyall just raises his eyebrows grinning at his son, “Is that so?” 

Remus feels his cheeks burn - almost thirty and blushing because his mother called someone he knows attractive. Pathetic.

“He gets that alot.”

Hope is right, Sirius really is gorgeous, almost like a model from the nineties. He has that same pale skin, dark hair combination like Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice - the only woman Remus had seriously been in love with. The major difference being Sirius’ light eyes, a remarkable feature with being so dark haired. 

And people notice, he is that type of beautiful where people just can’t help but notice. It was frequent even yesterday, men and women alike turned to get a better look at him. 

His fathers smiles, “Don’t sound so put off by that, son, one would get the impression that you’re jealous of him.”

“I wouldn’t call him jealous, Lyall,” Hope grins at her husband with her signature glint of mischief in her eyes, “I’m fairly certain Remus appreciates his handsome coworker. What was his name? Sirius?” 

“It is and I don’t,” Remus defends himself like a teenager who denies having a crush, “It’s just– it’s everybody's first impression of him and then they get all heart-eyes because he is charming, or whatever, but he really is a pain in my ass.”

“You’re not convincing me, Remus, not when you get that defensive,” Lyall laughs. 

Remus feels the heat crawl up his neck. The noises of the other restaurant patrons and the screeching espresso machine crowd in against him, making him so blatantly aware of it all it feels close to stifling. 

“What project are you taking on this summer, Dad?” Remus deflects instead of playing into his parents' little teasing circle, breathes through his nose to calm himself down.

“We’re gonna fix up the shed, patch the roof, repaint it. A few shingles blew off not too long ago. You're still coming down the third week of July?” 

“Yes, that’s my first week of vacation.”

“Right, good. We’ll probably need some help elsewhere, I’ll jot down a list as soon as we get back home,” Lyall teases. Remus is just happy he left the whole Sirius business. 

His father then relates to them the entirety of his day yesterday, how he and his friends surprised Robert, the now sixty year old birthday boy, by taking him to the pub for a hearty meal before continuing to drink down pints like they did during their early twenties before going to the football match.

“The thing with proper friends, Remus,” Lyall says laughingly, “Is that no matter how old you are, you’re still having as much fun with them as you get older. The only difference is the amount of bathroom breaks you need after that many pints.” 

After finishing brunch Hope and Lyall sighs in tandem and groans about being too full to move out of their chairs.

But alas, they have a train to catch. So all three of them manage to get out of their chairs and Remus actually wins the fight about the bill before heading out to the sunny busy street.

Since the weather is so nice and they aren’t in too big of a rush, they decide to walk to the train station. Remus walks in front of them on the occasion where the street is too narrow for them to walk three across. He glances back sporadically to make sure his parents aren’t lost in the scurry of Sunday shoppers and sees his mother and father clasp hands between them.

That is what he wants.

He wants someone to hold hands with in busy streets and tease their child with. He wants companionship that is unwavering for the duration of his life. A love that is romantic but solidified in friendship and that can last through career changes and children and recessions and home renovations. 

Remus wants a love like his parents have. That was what he thought he would have with Ben up until somewhat recently.

He just wonders if he is able to reach for it when it presents itself before him. 

Chapter Text

Remus tosses the keys and his beaten-up copy of Maurice on the side table next to his front door. The reason for him rereading that particular novel is something he’d rather not think about right now. 

He quickly sends out a text to Marlene.

Remus (17:31)

Fine, ok. Set me up

He had debated sending the text the entire day, there was the very comfortable side of him that just wanted to ignore the whole thing, and then it was the more rational side of him that knew that he needed to get out of his comfort zone to actually get somewhere. 

The thing was he didn’t even want to go on a date, any less going on a blind date with someone Marlene sort of knew from school. 

But people were right, he had to actually get back out there and one awkward Tinder hookup and another sloppy make-out session with a stranger on New Year's didn’t really count, if he wanted to kick this slump to the curb finally.

Tonight, he puts in the time to actually cook something, or rather, he chops up a bunch of vegetables and potatoes and puts them in an oven pan drizzled with olive oil and large slices of chorizo and thyme. Remus sets a timer on his phone and sits down at the table and opens his personal laptop.

His resume is old. Too old. And not updated in the slightest.

Despite all of this he knows that he only needs to fill in one new experience and the feeling of inadequateness is threatening to overwhelm him once more. No, he just needs to spend the time left on the timer to update his resume, he is not allowed to freak out about it right now - it’s either happening or he can go on feeling miserable and bored. 

So Remus tinkers away for the remaining forty-five minutes. He adds his current work experience, streamlines his competencies, and spices up the truth just a little bit. 

The margins are corrected and his contact information is updated. He heavily underlines his proficiency in Microsoft Excel and actually manages to brag just the slightest - the right amount according to Dorcas who lent out her own impressive resume for him to use as a guideline. And it is not nearly as daunting as he thought it would be, who could’ve guessed that?

So when his timer finally goes off and the whole kitchen smells of spicy sausage and garlic, he shuts his computer actually feeling somewhat accomplished. 

What would happen, he thinks - chewing on a large piece of roasted carrot - if he just sent out some applications? Just took the leap of faith and applied to something he might not even be interested in? Take the edge off a little bit.

The now orange olive oil clings to the pan and his bowl as he washes his dishes and puts the leftovers in the fridge. He wipes off his counter and turns the lights off. It’s not yet near bedtime but Remus still gets ready and lies in his bed instead, downloads his new and improved resume as a PDF on his phone, and opens LinkedIn once again. 

Role: Case manager of Accounts payables/receivables

Company: Sprouts Inc

Is it something that he wants to do? Manage the bookkeeping for a semi-large plant store chain. 

No, most likely he would end up doing exactly what he is doing now. He’s probably even overqualified, but it allows him to enter a cover letter directly into the application without constructing yet another document so he attaches his resume and submits the application.

And then he’s done it.

Remus has applied to the first job since he got his current one.

It shouldn’t feel like a rush - but it is. 

Marlene (20:42)

Free on Friday at 7?

Remus (20:45)

Sure

Marlene (20:50)

Great, ur meeting Luc at Dumble’s Brewery at 7. U won’t miss him, really blonde guy

Just like that, Remus has applied for his first job in five years and scored himself a date in one simple evening. 

It’s almost like he doesn’t even have anxiety anymore, incredible. And maybe this Luc guy is great and this will be the beginning of their wonderful life together, then Remus would’ve felt terrible for even second-guessing agreeing to this. 

So Remus sets his alarm and falls asleep with a smile on his face - earlier than ever before. So early, in fact, that he will wake up before his alarm tomorrow morning feeling well-rested and treat himself to a swim and a good cup of coffee before leaving for work with its screeching coffee machine.

*

Friday rolls around as it tends to do and Remus is standing in his apartment debating whether to just put on fresh deodorant and clothes or take a full-on shower. He doesn’t smell, he doesn’t even really feel that un-fresh but he decided this morning against some manscaping that is highly needed just because he did not want to jinx it tonight. 

But the debate remains. What if this Luc guy is really something? They might hit it off and he’ll be invited over for a nightcap and casual conversation. In that scenario, he would feel wildly unprepared with his washed-out ugly underwear and his forgotten crotch. 

So Remus steps into the second shower of the day, trims his bits and uses the more expensive body wash that smells sexier, and even puts on cologne afterward. 

It shouldn’t feel humiliating, to treat yourself to a proper shower with expensive products, but it is. 

It is humiliating to try, to acknowledge to yourself that you are trying. It sets him up to failure; the one reason for him not doing it in the morning. But that nervous energy in his belly is relentless, and putting some effort in actually helps, it makes him feel more prepared. 

His hair dries into the usual mess but is fixable with a little taming and the clothes he put out last night hang inside his closet. It’s one of those fancier white t-shirts that are slightly thicker in material and he tucks it into his dark blue corduroy trousers. Paired with his jean jacket and brogue Dr Martens and Remus feel pretty good about himself. He looks put together without being overtly fancy-dressed, he smells nice enough and the stakes are in his favor. 

And he sighs to himself in the mirror for trying, but accepts the humility for what it is; giving himself a proper chance. 

At nearly seven o’clock in June, the temperature is mild and the sky is still light and the promises of summer hang in the air. Remus can smell the lingering flowering trees and the lilacs planted around the outdoor seating area of Dumble’s Brewery. 

The actual brewery is located out of town but with its own bar placed somewhere between the outskirts of downtown and the entrance of the suburb. Not pretentious in the slightest and casual enough to attract large crowds, but still a level above a dive bar and perfect for an impromptu blind date. 

The interior of Dumble’s is made up of dark wood paneling and comfortable chairs and couches, there are pool tables and dart setups in the back and a few times a year a local poker tournament is hosted in the bar.

The bartender is an older-looking man with a long grayish-white beard tied in a ribbon and is wearing a tie-dye t-shirt. 

Remus is a few minutes too early so he orders a pint of their beer for the month, something cloudy called “Wicked Whims” and sits down at a small table that provides a good view of the entrance.

Very blonde is what he is looking for, apparently. Blonde enough not to miss.

At one minute before seven, the door opens and a man with dirty blonde hair walks in talking on the phone. No, not him. This guy could be any other person and the one Remus is meeting with cannot be missed.

Two minutes past seven another blonde man enters, this time together with his very tattooed boyfriend. And this blonde man is bleached blonde, something that seems unlikely for a university professor for some reason. The couple walks quickly into the back of the bar. So not him either.

At five minutes past seven a group of young women, twenty years old at most, gaggle inside and sit down in the couches in the corner opposite Remus.

It takes until twenty minutes past and half of Remus’ pint before the door opens again. This time for a tall gentleman, probably a few years older than himself with long white blonde hair tied together at the nape of his neck. He is wearing a thin Barbour jacket that looks like it hasn’t ever been worn for hunting and expensive polished shoes. 

The man has a slim face and a straight narrow nose and pale blue eyes as he looks around the room. He is handsome, in an unapproachable sort of way. 

They lock eyes and Remus feels the need to clear his throat as Luc steps up to him. 

“Remus I presume,” the man says and looks him over with a gaze that reveals nothing and there is a sternness to his voice that makes Remus sit up straighter. He holds out his hand and Remus shakes it.

“Yes, and you must be Luc.”

“It’s pronounced Luc,” the man says and pronounces his own name with an s sound and not like Remus had understood it, like Luke. And he still isn’t apologizing for coming late. 

Huh, thinks Remus, that’s a choice.

“Oh, sorry. Right, so…” he stalls as Luc sits down, very aware that this is the first proper date he has been on in some time, “So is that short for something?”

“Lucius,” the man says as he looks over the drink list in front of him. 

What is it with the weird names?

No other response and Remus’s finger itches to thrum across the table to stave off the uncomfortable silence that lies over the table. 

Lucius looks around for a non-existent waiter and then goes up to the bar to order. Remus treats himself to a deep breath to calm his nerves.

When Lucius sits back down with a glass of red wine Remus wants to laugh - he has gone to a pretty nice local beer bar and decided to order wine. 

“Not a fan of beer?” Remus asks with a smile, determined to lighten the tense mood. 

“No, I wouldn’t say so,” Lucius responds after his first sip, a slight sneer to his lips as if smelling something disgusting. “So tell me, Remus, what do you do?” 

“I work in the finance department of a home- and business service. I keep track of finances, help the accounting side with various tasks, put together budgets and such.” 

Lucius gives a slight nod, still not engaging in follow-up questions or even giving him any clues that he is enjoying himself.

“And what do you do?” 

“I teach at the university.”

“Right.”

*

Okay, so it’s very awkward.

The two of them have nothing really in common and Remus can’t help but wonder how in the hell Marlene would voluntarily consider Lucius to be a friendly coworker. He has to ask her about it next time. 

It’s not like there is anything fully wrong with Lucius, he is a bit distant but somewhat polite after the first glass of red wine and they fill their obvious lack of common ground with safe small talk and typical get-to-know-each-other conversations. Lucius feels detached, highly unrelatable, and almost fake in his approach. Again, he’s not bad precisely, just off.

Lucius comes from a wealthy background, one that he himself calls ‘comfortable’ and he grew up in a large townhouse with summer vacations in France. 

He speaks Latin and votes conservative. That last bit isn’t something Luc himself shares but that Remus is able to piece together from his comment about taxes that slips through somewhere between their greetings and the last dregs of Remus’ first beer.

So it wasn’t worth the manscaping or the expensive body wash but Remus is determined to at least give it his all, to give it an honest chance. Otherwise, he will just always be the guy with the perpetual raincloud hanging over his head and absolutely no one will fuck the raincloud guy, that’s for sure. 

But Remus needs the reprieve and a chance to slouch and offers to pick up their next round of drinks just so he can hang at the bar for a second. During the time they’ve sat there, the place has filled up and the eclectic bartender with the beard and tie-dye shirt is managing it all by himself.

“Is this the time where I accuse you of stalking me or does that only happen in cheesy rom-coms?”

The voice is coated in a familiar smile and Remus turns to look over his shoulder automatically.

He actually has to do a double take once he realizes that it's Sirius standing behind him dressed in tight black trousers and a cropped black t-shirt with a hem that doesn’t even reach the waistband of the denim. His hair is down and disheveled like he just ran his hand through it, eyes sparkling with a now familiar glint of mischief that turns Remus' stomach - something he chooses to ignore.

Because he spots something else that occupies his attention.

Because Sirius Black is covered in tattoos.

A mismatch of art down the uncovered skin of his arms, stopping just at the cuff of where a showy button-down usually reaches. He spots a traditional dagger-pierced heart and indecipherable runes and a constellation of stars. 

It’s not just on his arms, Remus realizes in horror as his gaze clings to the man’s toned midriff. But there are two scorpions at slopes of protruding hip bones, curved around a navel, and the wisp of dark hair that trails down the button of those god-forsaken pants. 

Remus feels the need to tug at the collar of his shirt - like a character in an old-school animated movie. Everything is too hot, damn near claustrophobic at the bar. The air is too thick to breathe, it curdles in his throat and he has to swallow before he chokes. 

As Sirius raises one dark eyebrow he manages to look away before huffing what could be described as a laugh. It sounds pained according to Remus, like he is in agony.

“Not my fault you choose to be wherever I am.” 

That was stupid. 

That barely makes sense even to Remus who wants to bang his head on the polished wood of the bar to get rid of the fuzziness that’s currently clouding his brain. He’s not even sure what the point of that sentence was - to be rude or flirtatious. God-damned hip tattoos.  

Sirius just grins, “What brings you here? I would say something along the lines of ‘This doesn’t seem like your scene’ but that would have been redundant and I barely know you enough to determine what scene is your scene. Plus, it’s a bar, everyone goes to bars eventually.”

There is that smugness that Remus is so well aware of and he fights the urge to roll his eyes like a petulant teenager would.

“Date actually.”

Why he admits that, Remus does not know, maybe to give something in return for Sirius' teasing. Like; actually, people find me desirable enough to go out with. It’s not just you who seems like you walk through the world expecting everyone to fall at your feet. Us mere mortals can also find dates and love and someone to go home with, it’s not just you.

Sirius does something complicated with his mouth. A purse and a tuck of lips, almost like a reaction slipped out and he was quick to reel it in. 

The bearded bartender aims his attention at Remus who orders another beer and another glass of wine for his less-than-favorable companion. After being placed on the counter, Remus turns to head back to his table - offering Sirius only a slight nod to his head.

“Good luck on your date.” 

Remus says nothing back as he heads over to his table. But he swears he feels pale gray eyes at his back as he walks to his table.

*

“-and that’s why I don’t really see a future in academia.” 

The tangent Luc just finished up might have been interesting - it’s certainly far enough outside of Remus' scope of experiences to have any decent insight - if only the main issue behind Luc’s disinterest in his own work environment wasn’t so anchored in his privileged upbringing. Apparently, the reason Luc can’t see himself working in academia long-term is that his family's estate will pass onto him when his dad dies. And that estate is its own very lucrative business venture all of its own. 

“Don’t you think there are other reasons to stay? To continue to shape the young minds of tomorrow or, I don’t know - conduct research and all that?”

“No.” 

Well, then. 

Remus drinks the last sip of his beer as he nods with fake interest in the woes of academia. He doesn’t even feel bad for not engaging further - it’s not like Luc asked him any questions about his own worklife. 

Okay so there are obviously no sparks flying, Remus thinks as the handsome-but-sort-of-distant man across from him is looking at his, most likely, highly expensive wristwatch. 

“Right, so I think it’s time for me to head home.”

Remus may not be experienced in the dating scene but he knows a convenient escape when he hears one. He has no energy to even feel bad about it - if Luc hadn’t pulled one, he certainly would have. 

“Of course,” Remus offers and the two of them stand up from their chairs, “I’d walk you out but I need the restroom before getting on the bus,” he offers almost as a joke at his own expense.

If Luc’s small sneer is because of admittingly going to the toilet or riding the bus, Remus may never know. 

What do you do to finish a pretty bad date? 

Like, after a horrible date where your partner screams at the waiter and mansplains your job to you, then you’re allowed to walk out without saying goodbye - or paying.

At a good date, you might finish it off with a searing kiss under the streetlamps outside, covertly asking to join them going home.

But when you finish a date that was just in between. Where both parties are aware that they’re not meeting again, but nothing has been terrible enough to throw a drink in the other’s face. What do you do then?

Well, Remus goes for a hug. And Lucius “call me Luc-not-pronounced-like-Luke” goes in for a handshake. And it’s awkward. 

So they shake hands like businessmen over a table they’ve shared the last hour and a half, which contains laminated menus with beers called “Knock out” and “Groovy, baby” listed on it. Remus heads for the restroom as Luc walks out, but as soon as he hears the bell of the door over the soft music and the loud patrons - he steers in the direction of the bar instead. 

To think he actually shaved for this, is unbelievable, he knew that would jinx it. 

The place is still full but there is room for him to stand on the corner of the bar and he orders another beer. Just one more to get the awkward flavor of that goodbye out of his being before he decides to go home for real.

With a “Groovy, baby” in hand he turns and leans his back on the bar to people-watch. 

The group of twenty-something girls are still seated on the couch laughing loudly at the anecdote pulled by one of them, hands flying across her face in animated gestures and everything. The lanky bleach-blonde one with his tattooed boyfriend is playing pool with the tip of his tongue between his lips as he lines up the pool queue against the white ball. 

Sirius is standing among them, closing his eyes, drinking down the last sip of his beer next to the pool table. Long eyelashes and elegant throat are on display for everyone. 

Sirius is finishing his drink.

He is finishing his drink.

Sirius Black is once again walking over to the bar.

Shit.

Remus has to decide what's more weird. Admitting he was watching and remaining with his back pressed to the bar.

Or, turning around quickly and acting like nothing. Which would be weird and not at all obvious so of course Remus picks that one.

He might have pulled something in his neck doing that.

“I would ask if your date went well but then I wouldn’t have found you drinking solo right now, would I?”

The grin in his voice makes Remus want to wring his neck. Too bad it's so pretty. So instead he takes a deep sip before turning around once again to see Sirius standing behind him. 

Unable to contain his irritation, “What do you want, Sirius?” 

“I just wanted to get a drink, didn’t mean to hit you in a sore spot,” Sirius says with a small smile but still crosses his arms over his chest and draws up his shoulders defensively. Remus just sighs in response.

“Sorry,” he starts, turning back around to face the bar again, “You’re right, it was shit.” 

Sirius finds the empty bar stool beside him and hops on and orders another drink, set on staying apparently. He leans on the bar counter on his forearms as the bearded bartender pulls his pint.

“Wanna tell me about it? It was with Blondie, right?” 

Remus gives him an incredulous look as Sirius takes a sip of the fresh drink the bartender just placed before him. He sighs again.

“It wasn’t awful, just… Well, nothing in common - kind of awkward. The guy kept going on and on about his inheritance for so long that I got scared for his father’s life. Seemed like he really couldn’t wait for an opportunity for the old man to die.” 

He can’t believe he is sharing this with Sirius who snorts into his beer and it would have been gross coming from any other person - but not from Sirius, no he even had to do that attractively. The bastard.

“Well,” Sirius starts after collecting himself, he drags one long finger through the condensation his glass left on the counter, “A date once stole my wallet and proceeded to order massive amounts of cat food online on my credit card. So lacking things to have in common might not have been the worst date in history.” The smile he offers is an extended hand, an offering of his own misery to commiserate with Remus and not laugh at him. 

Remus can’t help but laugh at that, "When you put it that way.” He takes a sip from his beer and sees Sirius pull a hand through his hair so it falls on the opposite shoulder. 

Remus just manages not to choke. Why? No reason. 

“Why are you here by the way?” he asks after placing the drink on the beer mat in front of him, turning his head slightly to see Sirius shuffle slightly on his bar stool.

“It’s my brother’s birthday, you know, the violin player.” 

“Oh, nice. Happy birthday to him.

Sirius cheers lightly before taking another drink. 

“Shouldn’t you hang out with him then?” Remus nods to the pool table where he can see Bleach-Blonde and Boyfriend standing with a white-blonde woman and the back of what appears to be Regulus Black’s back. 

That’s hard to say, Remus thinks, Regulus Black’s back. 

Sirius shrugs, “Yeah, well… I’ve hung out with him and his friends the entire night so I needed a reprieve. And they’re beating me in pool too, so.”

“You’re not close?”

Not that it’s any of your business, Lupin.

“We are, in a strange sort of way,” Sirius starts, “Shitty parents, as I said at the concert, really did a number on us and we might not have a lot in common but… well, he’s my brother. So we’ll always be close in some manner, especially considering our home life.”

Remus nods.

“Do you have any siblings?” Sirius asks and seems genuine in his curiosity, light eyes, and raised black eyebrows. 

“No, only child.”

“I should’ve known,” Sirius smiles wickedly, it grows on his face from the ends of his lips until they light up his eyes. 

It suits him. If it wasn’t for the fact that Sirius always seemed to be smiling, Remus would think he should do it more often. But alas, Sirius can rarely be seen without that shit-eating grin. 

Remus feels his defenses slowly rising once more, “Why?”

“Oh, you know. You want things done in your way. Get very irritated when they’re not, especially when handing in receipts.”

The thing is, that statement should make Remus' blood boil. He should be pissed off by the man’s arrogance and the teasing tone and the casual shrug of the shoulder. But it doesn’t. It’s even funny. Sirius Black is funny, with his grin and his stupid name and his tragic familial backstory. 

“Says the one not capable of filing his reimbursement requests after a year of working there.”

Whatever lack of back and forth Remus felt during his entire evening with Luc has now entered the conversation with full force. He wants to spar, he wants to argue about the blasted receipts and trying to pass off a novel as a business expense, and he wants to drag his hand through that mess of long black hair just like Sirius is doing now. 

“Who says I’m not doing it on purpose? Trying to get a rise out of you.” 

That.

Now that is straight-up flirting. It feels like it. With the playful lilt to his voice and the crooked grin that snags on a sharp canine tooth. 

Or?

Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?

But there’s that glint in his eyes.

That wicked smile of his that reaches his eyes is pointed straight at Remus. And he starts to feel the effect of it. It’s all pale gray eyes and a slight flush to the high points of his sharp cheekbones and tattooed hip bones on creamy white skin.

Sirius is smart, a person who managed a law degree and spent a few years arguing for a profession. And Remus feels caught up in it all; in the desperation of loneliness that forced him out on a blind date this fine Friday evening and is now making his head spin in the depth of playful eyes and tattooed skin. 

His head swims with the drinks he has consumed. His university self would scoff at what a lightweight he has become in the last few years. Just a few beers in and already he feels light-headed. 

One thing to remember about Sirius Black though, is that he is totally shameless, Remus realizes as he takes a large sip and avoids responding to his earlier taunt - and that’s dangerous.

But Sirius is shameless, and also relentless, “Was he your type at least?” 

Remus' head is still swimming and he has no idea who he is referring to. So he just gives Sirius a questioning look.

“That guy - Blondie,” Sirius nods in the direction the two of them sat not too long ago. “I saw him on my way to the bathroom earlier. Long blonde ponytail, expensive shoes.”

“Oh, right. Well, I guess,” Remus has really no idea how to answer that question so he just goes with, “My ex was blonde and pretty tall, so… Sure.” 

“That sounds convincing,” Sirius says teasingly, and Remus feels hot around the collar again. 

He takes the last sip of his drink just to give his fingers something to do and a voice calls Sirius’ name over the music and the sound of people’s chatter. He turns around to look in the direction where the voice comes from.

“Right, I’ll stop bothering you. I’ve got to head back.”

Remus can’t help but glance over his shoulder as Sirius skips off the high bar stool and walks over to his company, his brother holding out a pool queue that he takes. Tight jeans that Remus absolutely shouldn’t look at. 

And he still can’t look away when Sirius bends in half over the pool table and flicks his hair away from his face as he lines up the queue to the white ball to break the triangle formation of its colorful companions. His shirt rides up to show off a tattoo on his lower back that Remus can’t make out but still can’t help but stare at. Or the way he is bent and arched over the green felt in the low light of the back corner. Or his slim fingers covered in silver rings and chipped black nail polish that cradles the long wooden stick.

Remus can’t look away.

And something is pooling low in his belly.

Something warm and familiar that hasn’t occurred in a frighteningly long time. The sensation travels from his stomach down his legs and out his fingers and he has to clench them on top of the bar counter and try not to think about what those sharp hip bones would feel under them. 

What if his type isn’t tall blonde men with sensible career prospects and comfortable upbringings? 

The idea hits him like a bolt of lightning out of clear skies. 

There are other things out there. Other people. 

People who are covered in tattoos with long hair and that look just like they stepped out of Rolling Stones magazine. People with perfect skin and scorpions guiding your attention down. Those who walk around like the world should thank them for existing and only offer a winning smile in return. Who are just unfathomably gorgeous.

And people who are so incredibly unavailable.

Chapter Text

Remus usually doesn't swim during the weekend, that routine is solely for weekdays where he needs to get the energy out somehow. 

But this Saturday morning he wakes up with a tension around his shoulders that he figures a few laps might resolve, so he gets his stuff and heads down to the basement gym and pool area.

It is still early enough for Remus to be alone at the recreational swimming pool and the water glints in the early morning lights. 

His skin breaks out in goosebumps as he lets his body get swallowed up by the water completely. The pressure is comforting when coming from the outside of his body, less stifling than the one gathering on the inside.

A push of his feet against the tiles and he propels himself through the chlorine water, still under the surface. His shoulders don't strain, fortunately, and there is a sense of freedom that is released when he starts moving his arms. Breaking the surface for a breath of air, down under again. 

Blue.

Everything is tinged in pale blue light as Remus’ pulse starts to pick up with the strokes.

Pale blue - leaning more gray than anything. And they’re there behind his eyelids. Pale gray and deep enough to rival the pool he is swimming in, could probably rival the entire ocean if he were to look long enough. 

Another break to the surface for air and when he goes under again it’s just the long lines of a pale throat - head thrown back in laughter or to finish a drink. Does it look like that thrown back for other reasons? What does it taste like?

Remus turns. The tension in his shoulders is not letting up, so he fights it.

Pale skin that would almost look white in the morning light of the basement. Covered in stains of various sorts. Blush on the high points of cheeks. Stark black tattoos in places he never knew of before. It’s all suddenly there, under the water with him - in his mind's eye. 

Remus’ heart ticks to keep up with him. If it is because of the tension or the strain he is putting his body through is hard to tell. But it continues to beat beat beat with every stroke of his arms through the water, with every breath he takes above the surface. The pressure that crowds him has nothing to do with water depth.

Lips.

Just lips.

Bitten red and moving in silent conversation, curved around a smile or a tall glass of red wine held by long fingers. The line of an arched back bent over a pool table in too-tight jeans. 

Stay underwater, don’t come up for air just yet. 

Black hair that is moved from one shoulder to the other, slipping through fingers and clinging to his face. What would those strands feel in his own hands, tugging and pulling? 

Stay underwater, don’t come up for air just yet. 

Exactly what is inked onto the skin of his lower back? How many scattered pieces of art can be found if one were to go looking for them?

Straining shoulders and constricting lungs, muscles aching.

Aching.

Stay underwater, don’t com-

Remus breaks the surface. He gulps down the oxygen in the air greedily as if close to drowning and rubs his hand over his face.

Snap out of it.

He closes his eyes and it’s all there; eyes, lips, skin - all of it.

He has to get out of here.

*

The shower is scalding. It makes no difference, the ache and the tension remain.

And Remus is hard.

Arousal filling spilling out of his skin that has gotten too tight for his body and he will most likely hate himself for it but it is so so so easy to just fall into it. 

It’s so easy to just close his eyes and remember that strip of skin that wasn’t covered by Sirius’ t-shirt or jeans, that trail of hair and scorpions. 

And it’s so easy to see those eyes look up into his own and imagine the way the scalding hot water would cling to long eyelashes as he takes his cock into his hand.

Remus works himself slowly as he sees Sirius behind his eyelids, falling to his knees in front of him in the shower, fuzzy around the edges from the steam. And Remus strokes his thumb over the sensitive head of his cock as Sirius opens his mouth and licks, soft pink tongue resting in his promising mouth. 

He takes him in his mouth completely and Remus lets his head fall back at the image - too much. 

It’s too much to have him on his knees in the shower, cheeks hollowed out around him. The warmth and the wetness of his mouth is unreal, Remus' blood turns boiling under his skin.

He strokes himself faster when he meets Sirius’ eyes. 

It’s obscene the way his lips are stretched over his cock and the tears that cling to his lashlines. Warmth and wetness and the eye contact and the tightness of his throat. It’s too much, it’s not nearly enough. 

He’s close, so close, and he wants to tangle his fingers into wet hair and reach deeper down his throat. To the point of no return. It’s too much-

Remus comes with a moan that jerks himself from his fantasies as he spills over the shower tiles.

Alone.

*

He can’t even look at his own reflection in the mirror as he towels himself off and puts on deodorant. He refuses to acknowledge the blush that most likely stains his cheeks. 

Just don’t think about it. Don’t think about how his shoulders feel more at ease or how the ache in his chest has relaxed.

Ignore it, tuck it in the back just like all the other things he refuses to acknowledge or think about. 

So he fetches his laptop and puts on a pot of coffee and settles in to actually apply for some more jobs trying to busy himself. Not at all in an effort to ignore the fact that he just came all over his shower to the fantasy of his coworker sucking him off under the spray.

It’s nothing, Sirius is an attractive person and he obviously needed some tension release - this means nothing.

With his socked feet crossed on the coffee table and his laptop resting on his thighs he looks through the job adverts posted on LinkedIn.

The goal here is quantity over quality - just to get some applications sent out there.

Role : Accounting Manager 

Company: Stacks Ltd

Role: Credit Analyst

Company: Gringott Banking Group

Role: Business Controller

Company: Firebolt Advisory

He applies to all of them, just slightly rewording his cover letter for each application. T

hat’s the trick, if you write a non-specific cover letter it can be used for multiple different roles. 

Role: Risk Advisory Consultant 

Company: AlbusPercival & Wulfric (AP&W)

Remus hovers with the mouse over the title before he clicks on the advert.

As a consultant at AP&W we offer you the broad scope and understanding of the consulting role straight from the beginning. In the team of Risk Advisory we specialize in risk identifying and control testing for our clients, both in terms of aiding upcoming auditing work but also in true advisory fashion. All consultants at AP&W work project-based in teams put together to ensure the highest combination of competencies for the job and provides the opportunity for broad networking and learning on the job. 

In the role of Risk Advisory you will be tasked with mapping risks and process charts to ensure both current and in-progress risk mitigation controls. You will report directly to individual engagement leaders for each project and also be in close contact with the client directly. At AP&W we believe in personal growth to promote high quality and productivity and you are therefore encouraged to involve yourself in internal initiatives such as diversity programs, automation of processes, and employer branding.

Does it sound consulty? Absolutely. 

But the posted salary range is hard to ignore. And even though Remus hated group work in university, the dynamic structure explained in the advert does sound tempting.

What was it his mother said? He is not fulfilled by the type of job he had always assumed he wanted, so now he needs to look for something completely different. So he clicks on Apply, and attaches his resume, and spends a bit more time than he would like to admit on customizing his cover letter for the role. 

Remus (10:08)

I did it, I applied to AP&W 

Lily (10:15)

Good morning to you too 

Lily (10:16)

Wow really?!!?!?

Lily (10:16)

Who’s in charge of recruiting???

Remus (10:18)

Mary is listed as HR, Frank as recruiting manager 

Lily (10:20)

Ive only spoken to Mary like twice but shes very sweet and good at her job. Franks the best, worked with him on a large project last year that required both Risk and Sustainability. Im gonna send both of them a message letting them know to look into your application

Lily (10:21)

Good job, Im so happy you applied!!!

*

That following Monday morning Remus finds himself standing in the door to Poppy’s office even before he has gone by his desk to drop off his jacket and his bag. He knocks on the door frame to the ever-open door and his boss looks up from her computer and spots him standing there awkwardly, half inside half outside the room.

Poppy tucks her reading glasses up in her hair and smiles, “Remus, come on in.”

Remus walks in just enough to shut the door behind him, “Good morning, sorry for disturbing you.” Poppy just waves off his apologies. “I just wanted to let you know that I might need that letter we talked about.” 

He could have just emailed her or sent a chat asking for the recommendation letter. But so far, Poppy is the only one within these office walls that knows he is actively looking for employment elsewhere and he wants it to stay that way for now. No reason to risk HR or the higher-ups knowing he was jumping ship. So no paper trail, he needed to ask her in person.

Poppy smiles at him, her eyes lighting up her face and once again reminds him of what his mother would look like in the same situation.

“Oh Remus, how exciting! Where have you applied?” she asks quietly.

“A lot of different places, the one I’m most excited about is AP&W actually.” And that wasn’t even a lie, 

Remus had accidentally spent the entirety of Saturday - including going out for drinks with Marlene and Dorcas in the evening - imagining what it would be like to walk into the tall glass building downtown and sit in comfortable chairs with those wide curved computer screens at his desk. The daydream had followed him all Sunday too, when he was vacuuming his floors and folding his laundry.

Poppy nods impressed. 

“I’ll send it over, your personal email is still [email protected] I presume?”

“It is. Thanks.”

The two of them share a smile and Remus walks out of her office and heads to his own desk, the whole time feeling the secret the two of them carry warming his chest. He is rolling now, no longer at a standstill.

Things are looking up.

And then things are plummeting.

Sirius (08:01)

Good morning Remus! I need to develop a new calculation model in excel. Would you be able to help me with that? :)

Remus just looks at the message in the chat, the blood drains from his fingertips and they prickle uncomfortably. 

It was not just the daydream about working for AP&W that has haunted him since Saturday morning and the question is whether Sirius can somehow telepathically feel that he has been running through Remus’ mind all weekend. 

Rationally, no - Sirius has no idea what Remus did in the shower, he has no idea that he let his hand travel down his chest and his abdomen before stroking himself under his sheets that same night, coming with a choked back groan at the thought of lips and skin and obnoxious laughter.

It’s all just a coincidence that he’s asking for Remus' help today.

Remus (08:27) 

Morning, sure.

And he feels sort of bad for his short response, but what can he do? 

The next notification is of one meeting invite, at 11:30 - exactly when he plans on taking his lunch but whatever. 

He accepts the request with a sigh and adds it to his calendar. The next notification comes from his personal email on his phone, a certain PDF document from an email address not at all connected to Horace’s.

Recommendation letter - Remus Lupin 

He leaves that PDF unopened, smiling at the thought of Poppy already having the letter written up and ready to send in such short notice.

Remus still has that presentation for the board and primary owners during the conference to finish, since the start of June he has all the data for quarter one and half of quarter two which has to be enough to make proper predictions. 

There are no real surprises in the income statements, the growth has been on par with the predictions from last autumn but the costs are slightly higher, mainly because of a large truck malfunction at the end of February that needed immediate replacement. Whatever. He is not in charge of fixing the numbers, he just has to present them in an interesting enough manner to make sure Horace looks good in front of his golfing buddies.

The presentation takes his entire morning, luckily he had prepared for this and finished all immediate tasks last week so he could fully focus on this. 

When his calendar gives off the notification that he has a meeting in ten minutes he removes his laptop from the cord connected to the larger screen and puts his access card in his pocket before he leaves his old cup filled with now cold coffee and heads to meeting room number twelve. 

The meeting rooms are located outside of the main offices, in the same corridor as the elevators and the stairwell. 

Number twelve is the one furthest away from the elevators he rides every day and it’s the only one still free.

Remus spots James sitting in one of the others. Engaged in an online meeting by the way he is talking animatedly at his laptop screen. James glances up as he passes and offers a wave whilst still talking to whoever it is on the other side of the screen. Remus returns the greeting.

He sits down in number twelve so that he faces the door and connects his laptop to the large TV screen on the wall. He pulls up a fresh Excel sheet and waits. 

Sirius enters at 11:28 holding cups in either hand and his own laptop tucked under one arm. 

That crawling feeling creeps up Remus’ back and his neck feels hot at the sight of Sirius’ hair pulled back and up in a loose knot, tendrils of black hair framing his temples.

Remus is again back in his apartment complex’s pool, in his shower, in between his freshly washed sheets, and he wonders once again if Sirius has the ability to read minds.

“Remus! Thank you for meeting me, coffee?” He holds out one cup in offering and Remus reaches to take it from the other’s overfilled hands.

Now, the thing with Remus is that he is highly specific in the things that he likes. He has a favorite brand of climbing shoes that work perfectly with his wonky toes. Finding new sheets for his bed is a full-day activity that requires touching all the different options to find the ones that are smooth but starched, 100% cotton that gives the perfect luxury feeling. 

So it’s no different when it comes to how he takes his coffee; it has to be a strong dark roast with the smallest splash of milk. 

Usually, when other people offer him coffee and he asks for a bit of milk he always gets too much. A light brown mess that lacks that bitterness he likes. Ben had always found it annoying, how Remus always had such strong opinions about how he wanted things, how he wanted things done. They had been together for years and he had never managed to fix a cup of coffee that Remus genuinely enjoyed. 

So when he looks down at the cup and sees the exact shade of dark brown that only he himself usually manages, Remus is surprised.

Sirius sets down his own cup and laptop, “Anything wrong?”

Remus just shakes his head, still looking into the cup, “No, not at all. People just usually- How do you know how I take my coffee?” 

Sirius is still standing and shrugs his shoulders, “Dark roast with a splash of milk right? Not that hard to remember, I just pay attention.” He smiles.

‘I just pay attention’

It swirls inside Remus; bounces around his head in a manner that is fully embarrassing for what it is. Sirius has never even prepared him a cup of coffee before, the only reason that he has that information must be because he has heard Remus talk about it to others. Maybe heard him mention it in passing.

Sirius is still standing when Remus looks up.

“Sit down, Sirius.” 

Sirius’ eyes widen, or at least that is what Remus believes he sees, and scrambles to pull out the chair in front of him to sit down. 

The air around them suddenly feels stifling, too thick to breathe comfortably. 

It’s twice now, in almost as many moments, where the dynamic has shifted. From an unexpected sweet gesture to a command of a strange variety. And Remus wants to see that look again, those wide eyes looking at him underneath black eyelashes.

‘I need someone to tell me what to do.’

Isn’t that what he said, over prosecco and red wine at the theater?

Why does it sound odd coming from Remus? 

Not authoritarian but stern in another way, his voice low even to himself and he has to clear his throat and pull himself back. 

Remus looks away from the way Sirius is absentmindedly biting his lip as he logs in on his laptop, he doesn’t need that visual too.

Sirius tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear, “Right, so… Well, I need- I’ve been aiming towards larger clients, Horace wants to expand, become market leaders in the business-to-business unit you know. So, I’ve got all these large potential clients that I’m meeting and it just takes so much time putting together a coherent budget for the offer I’m presenting to them.” Sirius rambles and it’s everything Remus is able to do, just look at him. 

“What do you need? From the model, I mean” 

Sirius looks up and takes a deep breath, offering a winning smile as if pulling himself together, “I need it to be fit with more adjustments, not just square meters and level of cleaning tasks multiplied by hours of work.”

Remus nods, “Sure, bring up the adjustments and I’ll make it work.” 

So that’s what he does. 

Sirius has compiled a very thorough list based on talks with the cleaners and their team leaders of what makes a job potentially more expensive than others, stuff like double-sided windows and carpet versus hardwood floors. 

Remus offers his expertise on margins and the direction he knows Horace wants to go profit-wise. It makes for a beautiful calculation model in Excel, color-coded and everything. He explains the formula to Sirius who listens intently, asking thought-out questions. 

He can’t help it if his eyes travel to Sirius’ profile as he looks at the big screen hanging on the wall. At the shape of his nose bridge, at the contours of his lips, at his fingers playing with the silver chain around his neck. 

“So basically, now I have the option to calculate an offer and already see if it’s profitable or not? This is fantastic, Remus.”

“Yes,” Remus says as he adds the finishing touches, “This actually turned out quite nice, could I possibly use this for the presentation for the executives and the board?” 

“Of course, it’s your model.”

“With your work behind it, I wouldn’t have known to add all these adjustments.”

Sirius smiles again and Remus has a hard time remembering why he didn’t like Sirius right from the beginning. He’s smart and considerate, agreeable to work with. When he’s not dicking around with James or his reimbursement requests.

“Right, so I’ll send it over right away,” Remus says and Sirius rises from his chair.

“Perfect, thank you again Remus I couldn’t have done it without y-“

Sirius stops himself just as he janks at the door handle. It doesn’t budge so he twists the door handle again but the door won’t move. 

“We’re locked in.”

The goddammned technical difficulties with the electronic locks and the access cards, Sirius fully closed the door behind him on his way in and now they’re locked in. 

“It’s the outside lock that’s the problem, remember Poppy said something about a while ago?” Sirius says, still facing the door with his back to Remus, “Can we call someone? Do you have your phone?” 

Remus feels around in his pockets, no luck. He just shakes his head at Sirius’ back who takes the silence for what it is and drops his forehead to the door with a deep sigh, “Me neither.”

“I can send a message to someone, see if they’ll come and open up for us,” Remus says, barely containing his amusement for the dramatics Sirius is exhibiting. 

Funny, he would’ve thought that was obnoxious just a few weeks ago. See what a perfectly made cup of office coffee will get you!

Remus is in a wonderful mood as he taps away at his laptop.

He shoots a message to Poppy, Pete, and Pomona. The last two are listed as out for lunch, Poppy is in a meeting so he relates this to Sirius who just groans back.

Remus laughs, “Calm down, they’ll be here any minute, it’s fine.” 

Sirius turns around again and leans on the door, “Why are you laughing at my misery, Lupin?” 

“Hey, I’m just as locked in as you are!”

“Don’t go all positive outlook on me now. The finance guy I know rolls his eyes more than he speaks.” The tone Sirius puts on is very much negated by the tugging of one corner of his mouth. 

Remus feels his own lips tug, “I wouldn’t call it a positive outlook.”

“No? What would you call it?”

“I don’t know, you’ve caught me on a good day,” he shrugs.

Sirius’ eyes narrow at that, like he barely believes what he’s saying. Then he huffs dramatically again, “Well, that makes one of us.”

The bone-dry sarcasm just slips out, laced with humor, “Oh, really? That bad day, huh?”

Sirius is still standing with his back leaning on the door, his eyes are closed and his chin is tilted up. The sunlight that slips through the frosted windows lights up his face and Remus finally gets the chance to look at him thoroughly in peace, without Sirius noticing. He gorges on it. 

“First, I woke up and immediately jammed my toe in the bedside table so hard I’m afraid the nail will fall off. Then I missed my connection and I got late for work. Then-“

“Wait, didn’t you ask for this meeting around eight? How early do you usually get in?” Remus would have felt rude for interrupting if it wasn’t for his surprise of Sirius considering eight a late start of his workday.

“Not on every other Monday, I try to join the team leaders for their breakfast meeting at seven-thirty, to get insight into their current clients and what can be improved for the newer ones. Then I usually go out on sales meetings.”

“Sure, but why?”

Sirius shrugs still with his eyes closed, “I don’t know, I think they feel heard that way. That I’m not trying to sell businesses things that cannot be done with the current teams. Sell difficult jobs for little pay and therefore too small teams, stuff like that.” 

Remus considers this for a second, “Your girlfriend must hate that, you having such long days every other week.”

Sirius immediately opens his eyes, furrowed eyebrows, and looks straight at Remus who sits nailed to his chair.

“Girlfriend?” he says questioning.

The silence stretches for a second until Remus opens his mouth, “Yeah…. The woman you were with at the theater? Andrea?”

“Andy.” Sirius corrects.

“Right, Andy.”

“She’s my cousin.”

“Oh.”

“No, yeah, I-I don’t swing that way at all. The women-way I mean. And I don’t have a partner that might be disappointed in my long Mondays every other week. No partner at all, in fact.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

A firecracker goes off somewhere around Remus' solar plexus and the echoes of it can be felt throughout his chest. The shimmering stardust and gunpowder find itself amongst his ribs and coat his lungs and rest on his beating heart. An explosion by that small statement delivered in a conference room with a malfunctioning door on a Monday. 

It’s not hope.

Hope would imply that Remus wished for something. That he wished for Sirius to be available to him in this way. But Remus still considers Sirius a nuisance, a slightly nicer one than before - sure, but still a pain in his ass. And hope would be ridiculous. Even now that he knows Sirius is single he has no reason to believe he would ever find Remus attractive. That’s an absurd claim - that the epitome of ethereal beauty, a siren on land, would ever look at Remus’ downturned eyes and large crooked nose and his frizzy hair and scarred skin - and see something other than a charity case

Sirius is upbeat and too laughs loudly and goes to work earlier than he has to because he wants to make sure he makes other people’s jobs easier. Remus is bitter and self-conscious and blends into the walls surrounding him, his apartment looks like a hotel, clean and non-personal, and he let a whole year go by after being cheated so thoroughly that he just missed out on most of it.

Those scorching embers still lit in his chest go out with a fizz. It rings in his ears.

It has been quiet for a beat too long when Remus says, “Me neither.”

But it makes Sirius grin where he stands, and that’s a small treat in itself.

“Yeah, I know. I met you mid-date this weekend, remember.”

Remus nods, because he does remember. He remembers every small detail. Remembers hair and skin and eyes and his ass in those jeans and a finger playing in a pool of condensation. Spit pools in his mouth. 

It’s not hope.

“Heard anything back from blondie?” The tone is joking, like it’s a bit that they’re playing. Remus can’t really bring himself to be annoyed at that, even though he should. 

Remus musters a self-deprecating smile “No, I gave my friend Marlene - she set us up - an earful for that one. How on earth she would think we’d have anything in common is beyond me.”

He had, actually. Dorcas had laughed so hard that beer came out of her nose when Marlene tried to defend herself from accidentally setting Remus up with a conservative. 

“He’s apparently not that checked out of reality at work,” Remus continues to Sirius' amusement. 

Sirius does that thing with his mouth again, the pursing of his lips before tucking them behind his teeth as he considers Remus sitting at the table with his head resting in his hand. He feels watched, investigated, and distinctly looked over as Sirius considers something.

“What are you thinking about?” 

It just slips out, he swears.

Sirius shrugs, still with that contemplative look on his face. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something - and closes it again. Then starts over, “I’m sorry your date was shit.”

Remus shrugs right back at him, “Not much to do about that, I guess.” 

Sirius still looks like he’s thinking hard about something. He chews absentmindedly on his pink flushed lower lip and Remus tries not to stare at it too badly. 

“You could- I mean, if you want-“

The only warning is the small beep of the outside card reader before the door swings open and since Sirius is leaning on it - he stumbles backward into the unexpecting arms of Poppy outside meeting room twelve. 

“Whoops!” she exclaims as she catches one of her employees in a surprise trust fall.

“God, I’m so sorry Poppy!”

She helps stabilize Sirius who straightens his shirt. Remus picks up his laptop and his now empty cup of coffee. 

“It’s no worries at all! I just thought I warned all of you enough times that these doors are tricky. You have to be careful next time.”

Remus shoots her a smile, “We’ll remember that in the future. Thanks for coming to our rescue.”

Poppy smiles back, “That’s my job. Now let’s head back before we lock ourselves in again.”

Poppy takes off down the corridor and Remus walks side-by-side with Sirius. Remus’ legs are longer but Sirius walks faster. He tries not to think about that either.

“What were you saying in there? You started saying something before Poppy opened the door.” 

Sirius looks up at him, all large eyes and raised eyebrows and parted lips, “Oh that! No, it was nothing. Forget it.”

There’s pink on his cheeks. 

In his head, Remus reaches out with the tip of his finger, just to trace it, to see if it is as warm as it looks. In reality, he grips the ear of his cup until his knuckles whiten.

Chapter Text

Depending on the availability in the climbing gym, Remus will sometimes go from work a bit earlier, today he leaves thirty minutes early so he can catch the right bus that will take him to the other side of town. He used to rationalize it by working a bit later any other day or even coming in earlier. That motivation went out the window as soon as he started applying for new jobs.

When he hops off the bus at the industrial area where the gym is located, it's not even five o’clock yet, and his phone rings.

It’s a number he does not recognize.

Remus answers anyway. “Remus Lupin,” he speaks into the receiver as the bus leaves the stop. 

“Hi, Remus. My name’s Mary McDonald and I’m in charge of recruitment for AP&W. You responded to a job listing with us, correct?” says the happy voice on the other end.

Remus, who toes his shoe at a dandelion growing through the cracks of concrete, immediately stops and looks up. AP&W. 

AP&W is calling him. 

Remus clears his throat, “Yes- Yes, that’s correct.” 

“Lovely! Well, I’ve looked through your application and we would love to meet with you for a first-round interview. Is that something you’re still interested in?”

“It is, yes!”

“Fantastic, so how this usually goes is that you’ll have a first-round digital interview with me. I take a few days to go over the notes from the interviews and your responses. And if I think you’d be a good fit for us we’ll book you in for an interview with the hiring manager and the manager of the entire business unit.”

“Right, okay. Sounds good!” 

It does sound good, it’s just Remus who sounds like he swallowed a whole bag of sand before answering his phone. 

“Any preferences of days of the week that we’re able to take the interview?”

Now here’s the problem; Remus works five days a week and Horace’s is notoriously anti-working from home. He could take a half-day, and Poppy would surely approve it, but he also doesn't want his coworkers to speculate where he was if not at work. And besides, he has a lot to get done in the upcoming days.

“Well, I- A lot of that depends I guess-,” Remus starts, trying to figure a way out of this situation he has put himself in whilst also still coming off as interested to Mary on the other line. 

Mary seems to have heard his thoughts, “If you need to we can schedule the interview outside business hours.” 

Remus feels relieved, “Yes, that would be perfect actually. I’m really interested in meeting with you. It's just- well, my current job is not that flexible at the moment. Yeah, outside business hours would be perfect.”

“No problem at all, Remus, I understand. Does Thursday at six p.m. work for you?” 

“That works!”

“Lovely, I’ll send you a meeting invite.” 

They say their goodbyes and hang up and Remus is left standing by the bus stop realizing that he is actually moving on this time. 

He might not get the job, nothing is set in stone just yet, but the journey is ongoing now, no longer stagnant. 

*

When two days have passed Remus walks into his apartment just in time to take a peak in the mirror and set up his laptop on the kitchen table. 

He tests which lights will make sure he doesn’t look half-dead on the video call and even puts a few of his largest books underneath the computer to give it a boost. He’d rather have Mary see him face-on and not from an angle that just reveals his nose hair.

He has been nervous about the call the entire day, he’d get caught up at work and tried to hyper-focus on his presentation to make sure he distracted himself enough to not think about it too much. But now it's time and he has to talk about his skills and his strengths and his weaknesses. What his passions are and what he might bring to AP&W, kiss ass so thoroughly that they have to hire him.

Remus clicks on the meeting invite.

Here goes all or nothing.

It takes a second before the video meeting starts. Remus is faced with a smiling woman with large curly brown hair and a heart-shaped face. The nerves melt slightly at her friendly demeanor that he can feel even through the computer screen. 

Mary speaks first, “Good evening, Remus. I’m so glad we could find the time for this interview.” 

“Me too, I’m sorry if I’m causing you to stay late at the office. It was very nice of you to offer to meet this late,” Remus responds.

Mary just shakes her head lightly, “It’s really no worries at all, we have fully flexible hours so I actually went and got my nails done this morning to compensate for working late, so it’s no problem at all.” She shows off her ballet slipper pink nails to the camera. 

“Sounds liberating,” Remus starts, with that patented tone that says ‘I’m at a job interview, I’m very pleasant and hard-working’.

“It is - if that’s a type of structure that works for you,” Mary says with a glint in her eye and interlaces her fingers on top of the table in front of her.

“And that’s why we’re meeting at all,” she starts, “To figure out if that may be a structure that works for you, Remus, amongst other things of course.”

“Of course,” Remus reiterates, a pulse of nervousness shooting up his spine, fast and electric. 

“Why don’t you start telling me about your current job? I’ll steer the conversation a bit but the goal is just to have an open dialog here. I want you to speak freely. So tell me where you work, for how long, and your favorite part and least favorite part of your current job.”

Mary seems to right herself in her chair on the other side of the screen. Remus drinks a small sip of water to stall before deciding the direction he is meant to go. 

“I’m currently employed at Horace’s Home & Business Services, as I have been for the last five years. I started working mostly with accounts receivables and general accounting practices. Over time I expressed interest in bigger-picture operations and I was trained under a colleague to aid her in overall financings, I still do some accounting currently but it’s mostly financing in general. Anything regarding budget and profit projections is currently in my wheelhouse, something I also am in charge of presenting to the executives and the board every six months.” 

Remus takes a fortifying breath.

“My favorite part of my job is the analytical aspect. I feel like I have great liberty to collect numbers and data and base analysis on that. Unfortunately, this is not the main part of my everyday tasks, especially since considering most projections are so similar to each other. My least favorite part has to be the lack of… not creativity, but getting to try new things? Variety?”

Mary nods understanding and lets him continue until he feels like he’s run out of words.

“I just… yeah, I would like a bit more variety in my next role.”

Mary smiles, “It's very common, what you say about needing to try new things. I feel like that’s one of the most common reasons people switch jobs." She glances at her notes before continuing, "Who would you say that you are in your current workplace?”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I mean- let's say everyone would get a superlative, who’d you be? Maybe the one ‘Most likely to wear a funny shirt’ or the ‘Hardest working’, stuff like that.”

This is awkward.

“Good question, the ‘Rule follower’? Maybe? It’s not a very flattering answer but it’s unfortunately the truth.” Remus says that last part with a tilt to his lips and humor in his voice and it makes Mary feel comfortable enough to laugh at his self-deprecating answer.

God, he’s so fucking boring. 

Why are people hanging out with him?

He just described himself as a rule follower and it wasn’t even a lie or an exaggeration. Lily would’ve called herself the ‘Best problem solver’, and Dorcas may be the one with the ‘Most creative ideas’. Sirius would have-

Sirius.

What would Sirius describe himself as? 

Hardworking, possibly.

Loyal? Friendly? Open? Considerate? Funny?

Because he is all of those things, or at least that’s what he’s heard of him being.

It’s not like they’ve interacted enough for Remus to be a strong witness to Sirius' character, right? 

Why is he thinking about this now?!

Mary speaks again, ”Would you like to elaborate? Why do you consider yourself to be a rule follower?” Her tone is gentle and inquisitive.

“Rules are put in place for a reason, I don’t like to cross them without cause.”

Mary smiles again, the gesture seemingly permanent on her face, “You’re right about that, about rules being there for a reason. But do you think there’s a possibility that some stretch of rules and routine could benefit creativity?” 

Remus considers this for a second, “Sure, but I don’t think that is one of my strengths.”

“That’s fair.”

When the interview ends Remus eats his dinner in front of the TV, the blue lights from the screen only combated by the small tea lights in glass holders on his coffee table. He is the epitome of the sad bachelor. But with lit candles.

The interview went alright though, he had managed to shake off his nerves by the time he realized Mary wasn’t out to test him but rather get to know him. They had talked for almost an hour and he had even managed to bring out a few genuine laughs out of her before they wrapped up. 

Now there’s not much more for him to do except wait for AP&W’s judgment. And eat dinner on his couch.

There’s hot people cooking on his TV. 

That’s not fair, Remus thinks as he falls deeper and deeper into the couch cushions, he should also have a hot person cook for him. 

He wonders if Luc “Not pronounced like Luke” is a good cook and has to croak out a laugh in his lonesome because he’s sure that man has never willingly entered a kitchen in his life. James Potter is a handsome guy, he looks like he can cook - Lily that lucky minx.

Can Sirius cook-

No.

He shoots the thoughts down and turns the TV off. 

No. 

He walks to get himself ready for bed. Clenching his eyes tights whilst brushing his teeth and shakes his head as if trying to get water out of his ears. 

No.

*

Remus is standing in the breakroom waiting for the microwave to heat up his leftovers when James Potter waltzes in and greets him joyfully.

“Hiya, Lupin! All good with you?” He cracks open a tupperware filled with rice and chickpeas that smells spicy and comforting even cold and plops it into the microwave.

“Yeah, all is good. You?” 

“Good, good,” James hums distractedly as he sets the timer. “You know, Lily says the two of us should get to know each other better, and I fully agree. We should plan something! Maybe you’d like to come by ours for dinner sometime.”

Remus can’t help but grin, “Straight to the point with you is it?”

James drags a large hand through his wild mess of jet-black hair and the side of his mouth tugs into a boyish grin. Yeah, Lily had no chance.

“Precisely, so what do you say?”

“Sure, I’m a bit busy at the moment trying to get everything ready before the conference so I need to focus on that first. But we’ll look into dinner.”

That is a piece of shit answer and Remus knows it. The thing is, Lily is one of his best friends so obviously he should be more open to hanging out with her and her partner. It’s just… James seems so intense; talkative and positive and high energy at all times. And maybe it’s Remus' introverted self that backs off at the vibes that James is throwing out but he needs some time to get used to the idea of being more than casual work acquaintances. 

Shit, he is awful, isn’t he?

James is just being kind and approachable.

Fuck.

James just smiles back at him. “Take your time,” he says and Remus feels even more awkward and looming as he stands there by the microwaves. 

He is about to say something when his phone vibrates in his pocket and he mumbles a quick, “I have to take this,” before striding out of the break room.

Mary McDonald is calling him. 

He knew he was too cocky when he actually entered her name into his phone contacts, now she’s calling him to tell him that the recruitment process is over for him. Remus even debates not answering before coming to his senses.

“Remus Lupin,” he says as he turns his back to the entrance behind him and speaks into a very sad-looking potted fern in the corner. Someone should water that thing, maybe put it in some sunlight.

“Remus, hi! Is it a bad time? It’ll be quick.”

“No, not at all,” Remus says and prepares for the rejection that is about to come. Less than twenty-four hours and he actually managed to get his hopes up about this.

“So, I have presented you to the unit manager Minnie, she was really adamant about meeting you herself. So I was calling to ask if you’d be able to come speak with her and the recruiting manager Frank sometime early next week.”

What?

What is this? 

Isn’t this the part where they thank you for your time and wish you good luck in your job search, not call back with something that sounds like the opportunity to continue interviewing?

Remus’ voice answers before his brain even catches up, “Yes, that works. Next week works.” 

It really doesn’t, he has to get a lot done next week, before the conference. But this might be the only chance he’ll get so it has to be done.

“How about Monday?” Mary asks on the other side of the line. “I know it’s soon but they really want to meet you.”

Remus can’t help but laugh a little incredulous at that, “That’s fine, send me the details and I’ll be there.”

He walks back into the breakroom and gets his lunch and sits down by James. 

Their little getting-to-know-each-other trial can start now, Remus’ mood is suddenly shifted and he feels like he can bear James' energy better now than before.

*

“Wait, please go over it again; do you have a new job all of a sudden?” Gid says as he puts the beers down in the middle of the table. They all reach for a glass, Marlene and Dorcas on the opposite side of the booth, Fabian next to Remus and Gid who had to pull a chair from a nearby table to sit at the end.

Remus takes a foamy sip, “Not really, but I had the first round of interviews yesterday evening. They told me it’ll take a few days before I heard something else but the recruiter called like- what was it? Less than twenty hours later to invite me in for another round of interviews.”

Marlene puts her pint down and drags a bracelet-covered hand through her bleached blonde hair, “Remus - this is amazing. I’m so happy for you. Are you excited?”

“I am! It’s nerve-wracking and awful and I had to get out of work somehow on Monday morning. I told my boss that I had an emergency appointment at the dentist, I don’t think she believed me.” 

Gid snorts into his beer, “Wasn’t your boss encouraging you to switch jobs?” 

“She is! I just don’t want to speak it into existence. And I don’t want to risk it being overheard by anyone who tattles.”

Dorcas mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “paranoid” into her beer before asking Fabian about his day at work.

“You’re all set for vacation soon enough right?” Marlene says as she leans over the table slightly to speak to him. 

Remus nods, “I am - we’re still on for your parents' house?”

“Yeah, everything’s in order - I’ve also checked out some cliffs fit for bouldering so we’ll have stuff to do,” Marlene grins. 

Remus smiles back, feeling lighter than he has for a while, “Can’t wait.”

They all invited Xeno as well and he even showed up about an hour later but didn’t really sit down with all of them, but instead waltzed around the bar in his homemade tie-dye tunic and still wearing sunglasses despite being indoors. 

He did provide a round of drinks though, only to slip away again to talk to some girl a few tables over about her zodiac birth chart.

When Remus walks home it’s with a semi-permanent grin on his face, the beers flushing his system to a pleasant warmth and an easy confidence. 

Of course, he is going to ace that next interview, even though it’s in person and he can’t even hide behind the lie of bad internet connection for his weird eye contact or slowness to speak.

The streetlights flicker as they guide his way home. 

Home may be somewhat impersonal and lonely but at least there’s no weirdly jealous partner in there, Remus thinks as he kicks his sneakers on the pavement in such a way one only does when drunk. Ben and his fucking projections, always wondering where he was when in reality - he should’ve been the one most concerned. Look where that landed him!

Tomorrow is the weekend. A lazy Saturday where he can do whatever he wants, he hums to himself. Maybe go to the store and grab a bottle of wine, possibly treat himself to a good book, and just spend the evening alone. No partners or worried friends who try to set him up on dates with strange men. Dates that are so dull that he actually prefers it when his annoying coworker continues to interrupt him.

Remus’ thoughts ping-pong inside of his brain and for once it’s not from anxiety, just the pleasant lull of alcohol provides. No inhibitions even from himself.

He misses Sirius. 

And not even his brain is there to stop him from thinking about it. 

*

On Monday morning Remus does his usual routine, he gets up early and swims laps in the basement pool - his own thoughts fighting the tide inside his head. Nervousness and excitement mix to a strong thrum of his heart in his chest. He showers and tries to manage his hair into an appropriate style and pulls out the navy blue suit that he chose yesterday. 

Remus has no idea what the dress code is at AP&W, he has seen Lily in dresses and high heels just as many times as in jeans and a T-shirt under a blazer paired with sneakers when they meet up after work for the occasional happy hour. 

He opts for the dress shirt but decides against a tie, and a clean pair of brogue shoes, and hopes that no matter what the managers are wearing he looks finely dressed enough. 

During his breakfast he sneaks a quick glance of his work emails, just to make sure he stays up to date when he gets in a bit later. There’s an email from Poppy there. 

Good luck at the dentist! 

Remus smiles at the short message. No matter if he gets this job at AP&W or if he ends up somewhere else, he’ll miss her. 

Remus throws a last look into the mirror that hangs in the hallway - and views all of those parts that make him up. 

There is the large nose with the dump on the bridge, with the scar that slashes just across it - it sits in the middle of his face like a landmark, it’s his father’s nose, his grandfather’s nose. It’s the downturned brown eyes that on certain days make him look sad and exhausted, other days they just make him look like himself. That straight mouth and freshly shaven cheeks. 

Is he handsome? Not really. 

But it’s fine.

And this time, Remus actually believes it himself. He may not be handsome but he can manage a bad date and shitty work, he can even manage to look for other employment and new friendships. All of that has to count for something. If he spends the rest of his life alone, then that’s fine - because he manages all those other things.

Trying to skip the whole giving-yourself-a-pep-talk-in-the-mirror business he just takes a deep breath and heads out the door. 

What’s the worst thing that can happen today? That he’ll be rejected? Been there, done that - managed anyway.

Remus rides the bus downtown and tries to will his palms to stop sweating, he enters the tall glass office building that has a striking resemblance to a hotel and asks the Colgate-smile-wearing receptionist to please sign him in. 

The reception has large comfortable sofas and a lot of natural light, there’s a coffee machine opposite the receptionist’s desk and people walking in and out in suits and impeccable hair. 

The reception is open to a large stairwell and indoor glass elevators, all sleek and modern. Large plants separate the stairs from the sitting areas and Remus can hear the occasional chatter from phone calls and coworkers speaking animatedly. 

“Remus Lupin?”

A voice interrupts suddenly and Remus stands on unsteady legs. The voice belongs to a handsome man, possibly a few years older than him with brown hair and rectangular glasses. He is wearing slacks and a pullover over a light-coloured dress shirt.

Remus nailed the dress code.

The man extends his hand, “Name’s Frank Longbottom, I’m the recruiting manager. A pleasure to meet you.” Frank’s face lights up in a smile that suits his face.

“Nice to meet you too,” Remus says, delighted that his voice sounds steady and confident, hiding the nerves he carries in his chest.

“Let’s go upstairs, we’re meeting Minnie in the meeting room.” Frank takes off to the elevators and speaks slightly over his shoulder.

“The office building has two parts, the one where we take external clients or meetings - that’s where we’re headed right now,” Frank steps into an empty elevator as he gestures to the different parts of the building, “And then the internal part, where everyone works. All departments are dealing with sensitive company information in one sense or another so AP&W doesn’t let anyone not employed enter the actual office spaces.” 

They zip out of the elevator on the fifth floor and Frank guides them through corridors of carpet and expensive wood paneling, greeting people as they walk by.

Outside of one meeting room stands a woman in flowy slacks and a white shirt, reading something on her phone. Her steel gray hair is tied in a severe knot at the back of her head and she wears rimless glasses perched on a sharp nose. Remus thinks she looks a bit like Carolina Herrera in her get-up. She looks up at the sound of their steps on the carpet.

“Hello,” she says as she sticks her phone back in her pocket and extends her hand to Remus, “Minerva McGonagall, nice to meet you.” Her grip is firm and strong, just like her eyes and her hair. 

“Did you find your way here alright?”

Remus sits down at the chair that is pointed out to him on one side of the table as Frank and Minerva sit down opposite him, “I did, thank you.”

“Water?” Frank asks with a pitcher and a glass in his hands. 

“Yes, please.” 

“So, Remus. I must start by saying I read the most interesting letter of recommendation that you provided Mary with following your interview with her,” Minerva says as Franks sits down, now with glasses of water placed in front of all of them.

“Oh, you did?”

The feigned confusion is only halfway a lie, it’s mostly an invitation for her to continue.

“I did, it’s your current boss who wrote it, isn’t it? Most job-seekers aren’t so open with their bosses when they’re looking for employment elsewhere.”

Minverva's tone is stern without sounding mean and that is the only thing that keeps Remus from going into defensive mode where he sits. He just takes a strengthening sip of water before she continues.

“Have you read it?”

“I haven’t, I felt like it wasn’t for my eyes to see,” Remus responds and sees Frank nodding in understanding in the corner of his eye.

Minerva continues, “Well, as I said, it was very interesting - not just that she was the one who wrote it but the contents as well. She was very adamant about employing you, she seems to care very much about you personally as well.” 

This is where Remus spots it; behind the rimless glasses and the stern eyes is something else, a joke maybe, a laugh. Minerva is not mocking him, but she is joking in as much of a careless way as she can allow herself in this situation. 

This is something Remus can work with.

So he does.

“She was a contributing factor for applying, she has greatly encouraged me to look for better career alternatives,” he smiles as he says it and he sees Frank smile back at him.

Minerva doesn’t stop her interrogation, “You seem close, she appears to be a wonderful boss. If you don’t mind me asking, why would you search for other jobs if you have one where you are that supported?”

“She is a wonderful boss, unfortunately, I feel like my time there has come to an end, I want to learn something new - at a company that has the capacity for me to do so.”

Frank smiles again and breaks his silence, “That’s a good answer,” he says approvingly. Minerva looks at him and her stern expression softens to a light smile. Remus feels the cold hand of nervousness that has his entire being in a tight grip loosen and mellow into something warmer and more comfortable.

“That is a good answer.” 

*

If one were to ask Remus for his own perception, he feels like he did a good job at the interview. Minerva was intimidating as hell but she was also brilliant and fair and the questions she posed had relevance, Remus could feel it.

Frank just seemed like the type of guy you would want to have in your corner, the type of guy who would be a fantastic team leader whilst still being your friend. He talked mostly about the specifics of what the job would entail and what clients Remus would be working towards.

Frank is also the one who leads Remus back down to the reception once the interview is finished.

When they have reached the ground floor he says, “Thank you so much for today, Remus. I believe Minnie wants this process to be as efficient as possible so you’ll hear back from us before the end of the week.”

They shake hands.

“Thank you so much. It was a pleasure to meet the both of you, I hope to hear back from you shortly.”

And then Remus is back on the bus, now heading into his current workplace, well aware that he has to stay late tonight if he wants to finish what he planned to do today.

As he steps out of the elevators it’s almost ten and the rush of the morning has dulled as everyone’s sitting at their desks working.

All except one.

“Remus? Hi!”

Sirius stops on his way back from the copier with fresh-printed documents in his hands as Remus is on his way to his own desk. 

His hair is pulled back again today and whilst Remus can’t help but miss the way it sometimes drapes over his shoulder, his face is fully on display because of it. Sirius is also in his bright yellow colored shirt and he looks like the sun in the middle of stormy clouds against the gray background of the office.

“Good morning.” 

Sirius looks at the wall clock and smiles cheekily, “Not really morning anymore, where have you been?” 

“Oh, I had a dentist appointment that I couldn’t miss.”

Sirius clutches the fresh copies to his chest and Remus wonders if the papers are still warm, if the warmth could still be felt through the fabric of his shirt. He wonders if the potential warmth would be from the copier or if it’s Sirius’ own heat that has transferred. 

“A bit of a nice outfit for the dentist, no?” 

Remus looks down at himself and realizes that a suit may not be what people traditionally wear to a dental appointment. Heat travels up his neck and he can tell that his earlobes are probably bright red as he meets Sirius’ eyes again.

He switches the subject, “Is that for a new client?” he gestures to the contract in Sirius’ hands, “Anything you needed to use the new calculation model for?”

“It is,” Sirius perks up and extends the documents out, “Huge software company downtown that needs daily cleanings, take a look at what we’re charging them.”

Remus takes the papers that he holds out, glad that an A4 paper is too large for their fingers to graze as the contract changes hands.

But Remus can’t see the amount listed on the contract. The words and the numbers all jumble together into an unreadable mess.

The papers are still warm. 

Chapter Text

To say that Remus is nervous about the outcome would be to put it lightly.

He’s fucking terrified.

They, Frank and Minerva, told him that he would hear more before the end of the week - now it’s Thursday and he sits in the bus that is supposed to take him to the Godric Estate. 

Horace actually rented out two shuttles to take the whole office to the estate early this morning and Remus has done a remarkable job pretending to be asleep for the entire ride. He pretends not to notice Sirius and James talking a few rows ahead of him. But he pictures it behind closed eyelids.

They haven’t talked much since being locked in the meeting room all those days ago. Not unless you count quick smiles that Sirius shoots him over the divider as one of them passes the other’s desk. A quick ‘Good morning, Lupin’ on those mornings when Sirius is already seated at his desk as Remus walks in, a rare sight from how it was before. 

And Remus, who is so used to always glancing at that empty desk with the clutter and the photograph, has no chance of pretending he didn’t see nor hear Sirius those days. So he just answers with his own good morning wishes and walks to the coffee machine with that familiar burning sensation traveling up the back of his neck.

Why?

He’s not so sure.

So now he just pretends to sleep with his temple resting against the bus window and filters out the sounds of his other coworkers so he can hear the only conversation he is interested in eavesdropping on. 

“-and I can make the projections much easier now! It's fantastic - it has already saved me so much time.”

“And Remus was the one who helped you make it?”

“Yes, remember that time when we were locked into that meeting room, I’ve told you about this - we were meeting so that he could help me make that model.”

“Right, that’s nice of him.” 

Sirius continues speaking about his model, fully unaware that Remus is sitting a few seats behind them, listening to everything, letting those words fill him, despite refusing to acknowledge the fact that he is listening. 

It distracts him from the fact that it's Thursday morning and he has approximately a day and a half left of anxiety before it will all come to an end.

Remus “wakes up” when he can feel the pavement under the wheels shift to gravel as they drive along the long pathway up to the estate, he scratches at the corner of his eye and cracks his knuckles.

“Good nap?” 

It’s Sirius who asks the question when they have just stepped out of the cramped bus and grabbed their bags ready to head inside. He looks unreal in the morning light, all sharp angles softened in the June sun, gray eyes twinkling.

Remus just nods, “Yeah, thanks.” 

What else is he supposed to do? 

There’s nothing for him to do but acknowledge the fact that he is standing beside someone so undeniably gorgeous. He fought it valiantly for more than a year, but he is nothing more than a mortal man with eyes and taste. 

Of course, Sirius manages to look that wonderful in the early morning, right after spending an hour on a bus. The only thing he can do is cut any conversation short and get the hell out of Sirius’ gaze lest he get stuck there until the end of the day.

Gil, the office admin is ushering everybody in groups to head inside and collect their keys. 

The estate is placed in the middle of nowhere, just trees and views over a large lake that can be spotted from the dining area. The old decorations and paintings and drapes and wallpaper are all artfully preserved and give the whole place an other-worldly air. 

The whole time he aches to turn around - see if Sirius is still standing where he left him, on the gravel with his much larger packed bag by his side and the soft shine to him that can’t be blamed on the sunshine or the bus headlights. The playful grin or the cutting remarks or the soft good mornings. Remus leaves it all behind him. Refuses to turn and see if it still exists. 

When Remus steps inside with the rest of his group he is told that the sleeping areas are not actually in the estate but rather located in smaller rows of cabin-like rooms on what used to be servants' quarters - the main house is used solely for events. 

Remus reaches over the large receptionist counter made of solid dark wood and grabs his key, opting to get to his room and leave his bag before the day starts with tea and finger sandwiches.

The room is small but decent, a queen-size bed with white linens and a desk, a small bathroom, and a few hangers for his clothes. Remus opts out of unpacking and instead leaves his bag right inside the door. He steps into the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face.

Bring it back, Lupin.

Stop thinking about it.

Get out of your head.

The crawling sensation is dulled slightly with the shock of cold water on his face and his neck. 

When Remus finally looks up into the mirror he feels like he can’t recognize his own face anymore - it’s still the same but at the same time, slightly distorted. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, and there are water droplets still clinging to his lashes - but his eyes look alive, almost too wide as they look back at him in the mirror.

If he had left his phone on silent, like it usually is, he would’ve missed the incoming call.

But the phone is not on silent.

And now the blaring generic ring signal is grabbing his attention from where he placed it on top of his jacket on the desk. Remus stumbles out of the bathroom with his heart in his throat, willing it not to be another phone salesman like yesterday, who managed to nearly give him a heart attack when they called.

It’s an unknown number.

Remus answers anyways, “Remus Lupin.” His pulse is racing, and the floor underneath his feet feels slightly unstable.

“Good morning, Remus. It’s Frank from AP&W, is this a bad time?” 

The world seems to stop.

“No, not at all,” Remus ensures but that is a total lie, he has to go back to the main house to not miss the tea service. At least his voice sounds stable enough.

Frank’s voice gives away nothing at all. “Good to hear, how are you?” 

“I’m good, thank you. And you as well?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. It’s the end of the week - can’t complain about that!” Frank laughs a little, that corporate laugh people do when they joke about something so mild as the upcoming weekend or the weather. Remus joins him with that same laughter.

Frank seems to right himself on the other end of the line, “Right, so I’m gonna cut right to the chase; We - meaning Minnie, Mary, and I - would like to extend an offer for you to come to work for us at AP&W. We think that you can bring something really special to our team with your experience and interest areas. It’s a no-brainer.”

Remus, who has stood nailed to the floor the entire conversation, finds no intelligent response to provide to Frank over the phone, instead, he just goes, “I thought you would call tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I figured that. But then again Minnie and I met late yesterday and decided that there wasn’t really any point in waiting an extra day. We want you, I can't make that clear enough.” 

Remus wants to ask if Frank is sure about that, wondering why he would confidently claim his competencies. He decides against it, he decides to trust the universe that Frank might be right about this, that he really will fit the role and rise to the occasion.

Remus swallows, “That is fantastic news. I happily accept.”

“Wonderful to hear,” Frank's grin can be heard through the receiver, “You know what, I'll send the contract as soon as we finish this conversation and you can look over it as much as you want. You’ll be able to sign it digitally and if you have any questions, just reach out to me or Mary and we’ll happily answer them.” 

“Yes, perfect,” Remus breathes. It’s not until they hang up and he finds himself still standing in the small room at a conference hotel located in an old estate where he lets himself whoop loudly and throw his hands in the air.

Then he has to run, to not miss the first meeting.

He nearly does, or at least he missed the welcome tea and the tiny snacks but at least they hadn’t locked the doors to the conference room on the second floor of the main house.

Remus runs in, out of breath after running to the house and taking the stairs two at a time. Horace had just managed to welcome them all and is still fiddling with his PowerPoint presentation to get started.

Over fifty pairs of eyes turn to Remus as he goes through the door and the attention falls like an awkward blanket around him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he manages as he scans the room for a free seat. He finds one, right next to Sirius.

“What happened to you,” Sirius whispers as Remus sits down and tries to calm his breathing. His heart is still racing; if it’s from the news or the sprint or the vetiver scent of his seating-neighbor’s skin remains unclear. 

Remus swallows and allows himself one brief look into the questioning gray eyes, “I had to take a quick call.” 

“Well, Horace is struggling with the technology so you didn’t miss anything important. Oh, except the muffins! This place has excellent muffins, I bet your phone call wasn’t as important as to miss those muffins” 

Remus has to return Sirius’ grin, “Goddamnit, I guess you’re right.” 

Horace manages to figure out how to get to the next slide of his presentation and the audience made up of employees at his cleaning and moving services fall silent to listen to the uninspiring corporate bullshit that they do every year. 

Remus has never really been good at paying attention to these things, mostly because he finds them so incredibly uninspiring.

Now there’s a different distraction, and that distraction sits right next to him and will on occasion lean in to whisper something scathing that gets a quiet laugh out of him. 

Sometimes Remus will think of something mean or funny that bubbles inside his brain until he leans over into Sirius’ personal space and whispers his own comment in his direction. 

It’s an occasional back-and-forth. But it keeps Remus from falling asleep during Horace’s tale of the company’s establishment. 

And it has nothing to do with the fact that he likes to get closer, he likes the scent of Sirius in his nose. It has nothing to do with the way Sirius shakes with silent laughter and nothing at all with seeing his eyes light up in humor. 

Remus feels like Horace is intruding with his presentation. He is intruding in the bubble they have created accidentally in between the chairs and the bodies containing their coworkers. 

Excuse you, Sirius and Remus are talking here. 

Lunch is served after a few more presentations and a team-building exercise that splits the company up into groups. Remus, ever so pathetic, looks over at Sirius and has to hide his laugh with a cough when Sirius rolls his eyes so intensely that he rivals a snotty teenager at the instructions of the lame game they’re playing. 

The meal is eaten in the dining area that overlooks the lake and Remus is seated with Poppy at the end of one table.

“So,” she starts conspiratory as she cuts into her cod, “Tell me, how did it go at the dentist?” 

Remus glances back at her, then around her to see if the others at the table are overhearing, “It went well, really well actually.” 

He doesn’t tell her that he’s heard back from AP&W already, that secret has to stay with him for a bit longer. 

At least until he can read over the contract, sign it, and figure out how to deliver his two-week notice in the most respectful way he can, he may not be a fan of his current workplace but that doesn’t mean he wants to put Poppy and the others in the accounting and finance department in a shit situation. 

After lunch, there is another presentation, this time from a representative from the new ERP system that is set to be implemented in the fall. The representative is a young man with coiffed hair and too-tight jeans and he speaks like all tech guys do; with drawn-out syllables and a very ‘relaxed’ attitude.

“I bet you anything that Horace hates him,” Sirius whispers from his seat next to Remus. 

They hadn’t sat next to each other at lunch, Sirius having claimed a seat next to James and the two had entertained the entire table loudly enough for Remus to hear them across the entire dining room.

Remus snorts, “I hate him, that probably means Horace has even stronger feelings.”

“If he could decide, we’d still be doing all of our jobs with pen and paper.”

“Pete would have to do his accounting by hand - in a large ledger. A proper physical ledger,” Remus says as he gestures a large book with his hands.

Sirius has to cover his mouth from laughter, not good enough though as one of the people who works in IT and sits in front of them turns around in her seat and gives the two of them a cutting look.

Remus can’t help but smile. 

“Watch out Lupin or they’ll throw you out of here,” Sirius says cheekily.

“They wouldn’t dare to - I’m presenting next.”

“Really? I thought we were going out for team-building exercises next.”

“You lot are, I’m staying here, thankfully. I have a presentation for the board.”

Sirius nods, “Right, are they here already?” He looks over the audience in front of them and then behind them, looking for participants he doesn’t recognize from the office. 

“No, I think they’re coming here for the presentation and the dinner so I have a hard time imagining they’re already here. They care about the numbers, the projections. They have no interest in what systems we’re working in. We could be working in giant ledgers for all they care.” 

Sirius actually closes his eyes and rolls his lips in between his teeth to keep the laughter in at that one. 

It’s during the next tea service where he spots them, the suit-clad jolly people who are shaking Horace’s hand as they walk in - the board and the investors. It’s an intimidating group of people, expensive watches and faces that scream ‘I climbed the corporate ladder and I didn’t do it by being kind to myself nor others’, 

Remus would have been a fool if he didn’t find them intimidating. But it doesn’t bother him that much this time - he knows that they will probably blame him if they don’t like the outcome of his presentation, still, he doesn’t care. If they don’t like it, then it doesn't matter - he is leaving here as soon as possible anyway.

Poppy claps her hands and gets everyone’s attention, the rest of the workforce is set to go outside on the grounds for some team-building exercises led by Gil the administrator. 

The twenty-or-so people who flock around Horace pay her no mind and head into the conference room once again to listen to Remus' presentation. 

Remus takes a fortifying breath and drinks the last of his coffee. 

He has brought his laptop, it’s as easy as just plug in the correct cable and the PowerPoint presentation shows up on the large screen in front of the rows of people who are still speaking amongst themselves. Poppy has sat herself on the end of the front row and gives him an encouraging thumbs up.

“Right, my name is Remus, I work in finance and accounting at Horace’s,” Remus starts and that gets the people to finally quiet down and turn their heads toward him. “I have been tasked with presenting the first quarter turn-outs and the projections for the remaining financial year. By the end, if you have any questions, just raise your hand and I will hopefully be able to answer whatever inquiry you have.” 

Remus sees the suits and the graying temples and the smiles that seem to look down on him - what he doesn’t see is the details of their faces. 

Because they don’t matter.

What matters is the smiling woman at the end who’s sat down to listen intently, who brought him in when he couldn’t find a job elsewhere and took him under her wing. What matters is her total encouragement of him and her desire for him to go find his life elsewhere. He is doing this final task for her because she believed in him from the start.

Remus clicks his computer and the next slide shows up, “To start, this is the projection that we had for Q1 that was put together last autumn, as you can see there were no suspected surprises…”

Remus' voice almost trails away from him as he presents, he has practiced this too many times now - he could do it in his sleep. He won’t even look his audience fully in the eye; placing his gaze slightly above their heads so that he can ignore the fact that he even has an audience to begin with. 

In his line of sight, he can see out the window of the second floor. He sees the green grounds that have just started to sprout with flowers. He can see his coworkers in unknown formations as they perform some type of game that Remus doesn’t recognize by sight alone. He can see their mouths open in conversation and smiles on their faces.

He spots Sirius, not difficult to do when he is lit up by the sun and the grin on his face. He gestures enthusiastically for Pete to stand in a certain way and then laughs when Pete can’t understand him. It runs like a silent montage as Remus presents on routine, the way Sirius just looks so alive out there, having fun and being stupid.

Remus was glad when he found out that he would skip out on the team-building exercises because of this presentation. But as he gazes out the window he realizes that maybe he wouldn’t mind partaking this time, maybe it could have even been fun. 

*

He stands in the shower with the all too-familiar tension around his shoulders and his rib cage. The water pounds against his neck as he hangs with his head toward the floor. 

The presentation went fine, a few difficult questions but nothing he hadn’t prepared for.

When he got back to his room there was a new email in his inbox. The digital contract for AP&W which he signed after just glancing at its contents, wherever the stipulations they have has to be better than this anyway so it doesn’t really matter.

He is quitting.

Remus is quitting his job.

The anxiety snakes its way up his spine like a serpent ready to attack, it climbs over his shoulders and coils into a tight knot just at the center of his solar plexus. 

He could close his eyes and take himself into his hand to make himself relax. He could do that.

But the buzzing in his ears won’t let him get lost in his head as he can at home and he knows he’ll have to walk around the entire night with this mixture of tension and anxiety and restlessness until it’s time for him to head to bed. 

But the energy is ultimately good.

The electricity he feels is still proof that there’s life inside of him, during the last year he has had times where he doubted the fact. 

The soap smells antiallergenic and the suds slip over his skin before traveling with the water down the tiles and down the drain. Remus drags a rough hand through his hair like the pressure on his scalp can aid against the whirling thoughts in his brain. 

After his shower, he dresses again, this time in a fresh light blue shirt and he adds a spritz of cologne and that is the only mark of going to a finer dinner where he’ll most likely sit at the same table as Poppy and Horace and the other audience members that have been invited to stay. 

When he steps into the dining hall for the second time that day the dinner service hasn’t started yet but there are glasses of complimentary sparkling wine standing on the bar, Remus grabs the fine stem of one glass and looks around the room until he finds Pete in conversation with James and he decides to join them.

He just listens in on their conversation, adding an occasional hum of agreement at the right time to give the impression that he is involved in the conversation. The buzz is still in his ears even though he tries to still it with the soft dry wine in his glass.

Then Sirius walks in.

It would be embarrassing to say that the world stopped or that a fictional light shone on him and that the crowds parted as he entered. But that is what it feels like in Remus’ mind. Whatever attention on the conversation between James and Pete he possessed is wiped out, there is only him. Only Sirius.

It shouldn’t feel different - they saw each other just a short few hours ago, not enough time for anything shiny and new to sprout inside of him. 

But the way Sirius shines. It’s like constellations in his eyes and like the heavens opened up for a light to find just him. It’s in the way he lightly grabs a slim stem of a glass from the bar and how he moves around the room. Laughs when someone says something funny to him in passing, the way that same cream blouse that he wore at the theater - this time sans blazer - makes him look ethereal and dipped in starlight.

The serpent coils itself tighter in Remus’ ribcage. Almost too hard, like he finds it hard to breathe against the tension.

When they sit down for dinner Poppy is placed right in front of Remus with Sirius to her left, one of the unnamed audience members from the presentation on Sirius’ other side. 

Remus can’t taste his first course - he cuts small pieces and places the loaded fork in his mouth, still nothing. The white wine is tarte but he can’t remember any notes, it just dies on his tongue.

The unknown financier wears a large wristwatch and an expensive suit. He has to be in his forties, at least.

And he appears to be flirting with Sirius. 

Remus watches out of the corner of his eye as he keeps conversation with Poppy and James, how the man leans over and speaks to Sirius in a manner that is much too familiar for the two of them to be strangers or even casual acquaintances. Sirius laughs lightly before taking a swig of his wine. 

Servers come and take their plates. The chatter around the room is loud but unintelligible. All guests get their second glass of wine, this time dark red in the larger of the glasses plated in front of them. The main course is set in front of each and every one.

It’s not polite, what Remus is doing, it’s also not understandable why he would care so much as to listen in on the conversation happening in front of him and a bit to the side. He shouldn’t pay that much attention to what a sleazy rich man does to one of his more annoying coworkers, it’s not his problem.

But it very much feels like it.

It feels like Remus’ problem as the tension rises and he can feel that familiar heat of anger traveling up his spine, its flames licking against his neck and at the base of his skull. He has to bite down to keep from scowling.

Why does this strange man flirt with him so much?

Why is Sirius allowing it?

A month and a bit ago that same anger could be attributed to something like annoyance at Sirius’ arrogance, Remus is not so sure that is the case anymore. 

Potatoes and asparagus are dipped in the dark sauce that lays like a ribbon at the base of his plate. He chews and swallows without fully tasting anything as Sirius laughs demurely on the other side. 

He’s not loud now, he is quiet and looks attentive, is this what he is like when he gets flirted with? 

Where did that obnoxious salesman go?

After the plates are removed to make way for dessert and coffee, Sirius excuses himself from the table.

And he doesn’t come back.

*

Remus feels full.

Three courses and some glasses of wine with free refills will do that to a person. But he just received another glass of wine that he is set to take into the salon for a post-dinner mingle. 

That is when he spots it.

The terrace wraps all around the dining area, there are seats and tables if one wishes to go outside but just past the bar is another door to said terrace - only this one is cut off from the main deck and hidden by planters full of bushes.

Remus pushes the door that leads him outside and is met by the smell of cigarette smoke and melancholy.

Sirius’s head whips around like a child caught doing something he shouldn’t, with a half-smoked cigarette in between two fingers.

Remus is barely outside when he opens his mouth, “Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude.”

There are two bottles of wine, one-half empty and one still full, standing on the table that also holds the ashtray Sirius ashes his cigarette into. “Not at all, come sit if you want.”

He looks dull in the evening air, like the light that shone so bright on him earlier has dimmed to something less. 

Remus sits down beside him and nods to the bottle, “How much was a full bottle? I didn’t see any price listings on the menu.”

Sirius shrugs as he inhales, “No idea, I nicked those two,” he says on the exhale, so casually and almost bored that Remus can’t help but laugh.

“Oh, so it’s that kind of trouble you get into now? Stealing entire bottles of red wine just to wallow alone outside at a corporate conference?” He can’t keep the laughter or the irony out of his voice.

“Fuck off,” Sirius says with a half grin, without any animosity, “I just wanted to get out of there.”

“Not into ‘Mr. Expensive Watch’ in there?”

Sirius rubs his forehead with the hand holding the cigarette, Remus almost wants to warn him from burning his hair. “God, no,” he scoffs and leans over to retrieve his filled wine glass from the table. “That man was an old acquaintance of my father - they were not close, mind. But they move in the same circles sort of. Why he decided to flirt with me, I have no idea, as far as I know, he has a wife and children back home.”

Remus follows Sirius' direction and the two drink from their respective glasses as the silence falls over them. 

“That sucks.”

Sirius chokes on the inhale as he laughs and smoke falls out of his nose. It’s not at all cool or mesmerizing but Remus can’t help but look at him as he brings himself together again.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Anything else you want to talk about?” 

Sirius considers this for a minute, considers Remus for a minute. It is quiet for a second, only long enough for Remus to register that the evening birds are thrilling in nearby trees and that the air has turned cool but not too cold. Remus can hear the noises from inside, people talking and laughing over the background music - he pays them no mind.

“Who’s your best friend?” Sirius asks and turns slightly on the couch-style patio furniture, he turns so that his shoulder is leaning against the backrest and so that his chest is angled in Remus' direction, like he is making himself comfortable.

Remus smiles, “Lily,” he says as he steals the carton of cigarettes out of the gap between the cushions and lights one.

“James’ girlfriend?” 

“The very same - we’ve known each other since university.”

“Wow,” Sirius ponders. “What’s your favorite memory of her?” 

Remus thinks for a second and takes another drag, dragging smoke down his windpipe like how the tide pulls the sea from the shore. It burns. It’s familiar.

“She helped me move out of my ex’s apartment last year, I planned for a moment where I knew he’d be out and then we just snuck in and took all of it - all my stuff, it felt like an awful rendition of Mission Impossible. I have better memories too - happy ones but that one’s just- I don’t know… that one just feels like the ultimate show of support.”

“How long were you and your ex together? Had to have been long for you to live together.”

Remus just looks at the delicate way Sirius holds his wine glass, all long fingers wrapped around the body of it. “Around seven years.”

“What a dick.”

Remus looks up at Sirius questioningly, “What? Why?”

Sirius shrugs, “Well, you dated for seven years - you even lived together. He must’ve been a dick for you to feel like you had to move out on a day when he wasn’t home - you obviously didn’t even want to see him.”

“You’re right, he was,” Remus laughs, can’t believe where he is situated right now, with the song birds and Sirius and the cigarette placed between his pointer and middle finger. 

“So what’s your favorite memory of James?” Remus asks and tries not to look too hard at the way Sirius’ throat moves when he drinks, “I assume he’s your best friend.”

Sirius smiles and licks a drop of wine that clings to his bottom lip. And then he speaks.

The way Sirius Black tells stories should be the next hit show on all TV channels and the best streaming services. He is animated and gestures, he gets lost in his narration but never fails to make sure the listener is with him on the ride. 

Sirius makes Remus laugh so loudly that his body shakes and a splash of wine spills on the beige couch and that just makes the two of them laugh even harder.

Remus goes on about his mother and how she taught him how to cook and bake bread and how his father used to lovingly tease him about not being good at sports despite being even worse himself. 

Sirius refills their glasses and they share drunken stories from their university days and how one can never admit to liking classic literature without being labeled as pretentious and they agree about the pacing issues in Anna Karenina.

“I mean - the man writes a self-insert in Levin and then goes on to explain agricultural practices in Russia in the late 1800s for like - I don’t know, a hundred pages, and for what reason?”

Remus just laughs because that’s all he can do, because Sirius is right, he is so right. 

They speak of childhood friends and which ones have gone on to make the craziest announcements on social media, which leads to them agreeing on the fact that sheltered people who never challenged themselves will always be the most entertaining ones to observe from the outside, in a cruel but slightly unavoidable way. 

Remus refills their glasses. Sirius offers him one more cigarette.

The bright evening darkens to a Prussian blue night and the noises from inside dulls as people return to their accommodations and time passes between a shared bottle of wine and Marlboro’s. The dew will soon start to form on blades of grass and leaves on the trees and Remus feels the chill and the moisture in the air. 

“-so when I came out, I think that was the last straw… Just- that was it. I left.” 

At every interaction shared outside on a patio or a balcony with a bottle of red wine, there will come a point of no return, where dark secrets and fears will be shared. Or the tragic familial backstory of one or the other.

“I’m sorry,” Remus says, and he means it.

“Don’t be, I stopped being sorry a long time ago,” Sirius says as he finishes the last of his wine. He reaches over the table to grab the bottle to fill up their glasses, only to find out that the bottle is empty. Not a drop left.

“Maybe that’s a sign,” Sirius smiles a little crookedly, “That we’ve been sitting here for too long.”

The awareness of it all comes rushing back, that Remus has been sitting here with Sirius for God knows how long. That maybe it’s too late in the night and that they should head back.

“Right,” he says and places his empty glass on the table, ”You’re right.”

Even though he has no desire to move, the chill has started to bite and it is already too dark outside for it to be any time early. And Remus is responsible, he goes to bed at appropriate times and he doesn’t get lost in the cadence of a coworker’s voice and the way they agree on things he had never thought they would agree on. 

Remus stands, joints stiff from the chill and the still-sitting position on the couch. The wine is catching up with him, warming his blood and dulling that responsible voice in his head. 

Sirius stands at the same time.

It has the surprising effect of bringing their bodies so close. Toe to toe. Remus can almost feel Sirius’ ribcage expand as he takes a breath.

And he gets lost.

For once he gets fully lost, like caught up in a strong current that he never has the wish to extract himself from. 

Lost in the gray eyes and the way his hair moves around his face. His wine-stained lips that just look so soft. Over high cheekbones and pitch-black eyebrows and lashes that cast pretty shadows on his pale smooth skin.

It aches him - to stand so close to someone so beautiful. It aches in the same way that the tension does when it wraps itself around him. 

His fingers and hands are so unworthy but all they crave to do is to reach out and touch - see if that skin is as soft as it looks, to see what red wine tastes on his lips and if dew would form on the soft tendrils of black hair. 

Sirius looks back, head tilted slightly to gaze up at him.

“Remus?” he whispers.

And the avalanche is triggered.

Those unworthy hands, stained and scarred and just not good enough, they move without Remus’ permission. They raise in slow motion up alongside their two bodies that stand so close they could feel the other’s heartbeat if they just breathed in at the same time. They cup and cradle - long hair caught in between scarred fingers and a sharp jaw as Remus holds Sirius’s face in his palms.

He moves down. 

It goes so slowly. So fast. Unavoidable.

Remus closes his eyes just before their lips meet for the first time. 

When they do - the earth cracks open beneath his feet.

Chapter Text

Kissing Sirius is… it’s just–

It is everything one can ever imagine and more. It is like nothing else, the way their lips meet and how his face feels tucked into Remus’ offering palms. It’s everything and nothing at the same time. 

It starts out slow, like maybe he wasn’t really prepared that Remus was going to do that, still for a second - long enough for Remus’ chest to fill with doubt and begin to remove himself. 

Then it’s the tilt of his face and the wrapping of his arms around Remus as well, like he pulled himself together enough just to drag Remus closer.

And now finally, their chests are pressed close enough together that they would feel each other’s heartbeats, if only they paid enough attention to. 

It starts out soft, like the first sparks of ignition. Soft lips pressed against each other and then Sirius finds his bearing and Remus feels the tip of his tongue on the seam of his lips. The flame continues to catch onto the kindling, only consuming more oxygen to keep growing. 

Remus feels like dying. 

Dying in the warmth that is Sirius' lips and skin, the heat of him threatens to melt him from the inside as their tongues meet. And those sparks of ignition turn to a flame, close to an explosion as one of Remus’ arms moves snake around Sirius’ waist. 

Closer, if they could just get closer. 

The kiss deepens as Remus tastes Sirius' mouth, the full body of the red wine, and the smoky taste of shared cigarettes and talking for hours on patio furniture. It gets mingled with tongues and breaths and hands that want to taste skin. 

Licking into his mouth, Remus feels feral with the way he is acting, rabid and restless and starved for affection. 

Starved for the man in his arms and the closeness. 

The heat goes up, it’s like turning up the flame in a gas lamp the way it burns brighter, steals oxygen from around them and Sirius moans softly into the kiss when their bodies press even closer.

The sound is a jolt. An electric zap that travels from his mouth into Remus, down his throat, and extends into his chest where the pressure lies and then further down. It grips his being and sharpens his focus. 

More, Remus needs more. 

He wraps Sirius into his arms, tucks him into his chest, and wishes he could crack open his ribs to keep him inside, to keep him safe and warm and close. 

Sirius’ hand travels up Remus' neck and up to his hair. His fingers are soft and warm and the electricity continues to buzz down Remus' neck as he angles his head to continue kissing him. Just keep kissing him. 

Don’t stop. 

Sirius stands on light toes, heels no longer fully connected to the deck underneath them - he presses himself impossibly closer.

And it’s the pressure of his body, the warmth of him, the soft lips, and the eager thorough tongue that does it. Hips that meet - arousal is swimming in Remus’ head, making him stupid. 

It’s intense and heady and his hands are not enough to touch all the places he wants, his lips are not enough to kiss as deep as he needs. 

More.

More.

It’s unclear how it happens, somehow they end up by the small rooms that scatter like little cabins on the grounds. 

There had to have been some movement, walking off the patio and in the direction of the accommodations but no matter how much Remus racks his brain he can't for the life of him figure out how they did it. Because ever since Sirius angled his face upwards and they met in that first kiss, Remus has only been able to keep kissing him. 

There is no room for remembering or acknowledging anything else, nothing as unimportant as how they got from the patio to outside Sirius’ door.

But they are positioned outside a door now, or rather, Remus has Sirius pressed up against the door. His body is soft and pliant underneath his hands. It is so easy for him to thread his fingers through the soft strands and tug a little to angle Sirius’ face. 

Remus grunts into his mouth when the action is returned, the sharp sting not delivering pain but rather amping up the heat that clings in between them. Sharpening his senses.

One of Sirius’ hands disappears from where it gripped Remus’ shirt, wrinkling it between his fingers, and he messes with something in his pocket. Distracted as he tries to retain the kiss whilst searching for his room key. 

“Remus– I… God, I just need to get the door open,” Sirius mumbles breathlessly and the only thing that takes Remus’ eyes away from his kiss-bitten lips and the flush to his cheekbones is the invitation to latch his own lips to the skin beneath his ear. 

The smell of cedar and vetiver, soft and sexy, the strongest there and it takes everything within him to keep from inhaling the scent as Sirius fumbles with the key. 

He wants to consume it, get his face tucked into that spot, and live there, only paying with lapping at Sirius’ throat like it offers to end his hunger, his thirst. 

Sirius’ hands are unsteady, “Fuck,” he says when the key falls out of his hands, the exclaim is soft and impatient, and he has to bend down quickly to get it. 

When the door swings open they nearly stumble over the other’s legs and as Remus drags the door closed and locked behind them - Sirius is on him, pressing his back against the door, his body melting to fit against Remus’ chest.

Remus takes the opportunity to grab onto Sirius’ hip bones to drag him closer and shuffle a leg between his thighs, letting him grind down against Remus’ thigh as they kiss again. 

Remus moans something indecent when he feels the hard length against his leg, it is unbelievable. Sirius’ breath hitches against his lips. The kiss is sloppy as Sirius' hips start to move on their own accord, rutting against Remus’ thigh.   

It’s heady and demented and out of this world - the sounds Sirius is making, soft and keening. Needy.

“Fuck,” Sirius moans as their mouths separate and he starts kissing down Remus’ neck, harsh with teeth and tongue like he wants to reprimand him for something, it's punishing but without punishment. And he keeps grinding down on his thigh, hips stuttering. 

Remus can’t believe it, “You have such a dirty mouth,” he huffs with a hint of humor underneath the absolute wretchedness of desire that laces his voice. 

He struggles with the hidden buttons that are for some reason still hiding Sirius’ bare chest from him, his fingers unsteady and impatient. “Open your shirt,” he continues.

Sirius looks up from his ministrations on Remus’ neck, eyes dazed and glazed over, “What?” It comes out breathless.

“I said, take your shirt off.”

It’s the arousal and the lack of patience that makes Remus sound like that, all gruff and stern and he almost doesn’t recognize the sound of it in his own ears. 

But it’s there, and it sounds possessive, dominating almost. 

‘I need someone to tell me what to do’

Sirius’ hands have a slight unsteadiness to them as he starts to unbutton his shirt, the two of them now a hand-width apart, and Remus just can’t stop looking.

‘Sit down, Sirius’ and wide eyes and a hitched breath.

Remus’ heart skips a beat, he is sure of it.

“You like being told what to do?” Remus asks in all seriousness as Sirius has managed to get four buttons unbuttoned with his uncoordinated fingers. 

His cheeks stained scarlet at the question and this time Remus allows himself to reach out and touch it. It’s smooth, and it’s burning.

“I–… I– yeah-yeah I do,” Sirius stutters as his cheeks darken even more and Remus can feel it in real-time, how the blood flow increases under those cheekbones. 

He can tell that Sirius is not innocent - he is not a fair virtuoso who is about to be deflowered. The two of them are just sucked into this reality together, where everything is unsteady and so immediate, the flame just needs more kindling.

So Remus lets out a shaky breath, swallows once, and needs to steady himself to be the man worthy enough of this. To not make this boring or unimaginative.

God knows he is not going to be lucky enough to do this again. 

So he steels himself.

He reaches out to where he can see the faint shadow of Sirius’ straining trousers, runs his palm along the length of him softly, and Sirius’ breath stutters as he unbuttons the final button. The last thing holding the two sides of his shirt is the tied bow around his neck, Remus tugs on one side, and the silky material just falls under his fingers. 

Like unwrapping a gift, a lovely gift far too exquisite for the likes of him, the sight of Sirius’ chest and tattoos and skin. 

The scarce view of Sirius’ torso he had gotten all those weeks ago was nothing.

Absolutely nothing to what he looked like now.

Pale chest lit up by the dim lights in the room, tattooed scorpions that he had gotten so familiar with, a line of text written on his ribs, multiple more works of art that would get the attention they deserved if Remus could do something more than stare.

Sirius is divine.

When he finally makes his way back to Sirius’ gaze they lock eyes again, brown against gray, and just a few breaths between them. 

“Now,” Remus exhales, “Take off my shirt.”

Had he not been a few drinks in at this point, this might have been embarrassing, to order someone around. But the swell of Sirius’ pupils and the soft tug of his teeth on his lips make it all worth it. 

It’s addictive, the way a soft-spoken order amplifies his demeanor. 

Remus is vaguely aware that the consequence of Sirius running his hands softly over the middle of his shirt leads to his buttons coming undone. 

Then it is the soft caress of Sirius' palm against his skin and Remus shivers at the touch. Those hands travel over his shoulders, taking the shirt with them until it falls down his arms and lands on the floor. 

In a swift move, Remus has their positions reversed, now Sirius is once again pressed against the door and Remus chases after his waiting lips, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. 

Though Remus barely feels like a physical being anymore - all loose joints and growing desire - his hands are capable of finding Sirius' belt and his fly, quickly coming undone under his fingers. He tucks a hand inside, feels Sirius moan against his lips at the touch, his hard cock under his fingers and he palms it again.

“Remus–” 

He kisses his way down his throat, pays extra attention to protruding collarbones and attaches his lips to each and every tattoo on his way down, places kisses that he hopes will bruise - if he has calculated it correctly they should, the pressure combined with the paleness of Sirius’ skin, it should stain and leave his mark. 

Until Remus finally sinks to his knees in front of him. He mouths at the scorpions there, nestled in right by his hip bones, and hears Sirius keen and squirm above him. A needy little thing.

Remus looks up, on his knees like in prayer - gazing at the divine figure in front of him. Being on his knees in front of Sirius is as close as he can come to proper religious devotion, he is sure of it. 

Sirius with his eyes and his messed up hair and flushed cheeks and swollen lips, is the only iconography he’ll kneel for. And his calculations were correct; there is a trail of dark red bruises that can be traced down his chest, scattered all over, like Remus left his imprint amongst the tattoos. 

He was there, his lips touched all of those places. 

With firm fingers, he tugs the trousers off Sirius’ hips, boxers coming off with them. And Sirius is hard and leaking in front of him. Remus keeps the eye contact as his tongue laps at the length of him - just to see his reaction. Just to see Sirius' lips part and his eyes roll back into his skull when he takes him in his mouth fully.

That same heat that raged inside Remus every time Sirius stopped by his desk at work to deliver faulty reimbursement requests or he laughed too loudly or asked annoying questions - that heat wasn’t anger at all, he knows that now. 

He knows that it couldn’t have been anger, because he is feeling that same heat right now, on his knees with the weight of Sirius’ cock on his tongue. That heat was something else, something that has Remus palming himself through his clothes as he takes Sirius down his throat. 

Sirius’ head makes a thud as it falls back against the door and Remus has to close his eyes at the view, he can’t come in his pants right now - this can’t be over before it has even fully started. 

“God, R–Remus,” Sirius gasps above him, spit pooling in Remus’ mouth and threatens to spill. He swirls his tongue around him and Sirius keens. There are fingers in his hair, they tug at the gray-speckled curls, and Remus swallows.

“If.. christ– If you don’t s–stop I’m gonna–” Sirius' voice cuts off with a moan and Remus pulls off just to kiss at the crease where his thigh meets his hip. He takes a few calming breaths - he reels himself back in.

“Get on the bed.”

Remus’ voice is hoarse, abused, when he says it. Good. 

Sirius just looks at him, he looks halfway fucked already and Remus thinks that is a particularly good look on him. He should look that way more often, it’s delicious and sweet and something so alluring. It’s out of this world.

Remus stands and Sirius walks fully naked to the bed - he sits on the end and reaches for Remus’ belt.

 It’s too soon, if Sirius were to get his hands on him now it’d be all over. 

“Lay down.”

“But–”

“I said, lay down.” Remus looks at him for a beat, “Please.”

His voice is firm but not cold and Sirius obeys, hair fans out all around him on the pillow, angelic in the dim light and against the soft white sheets. 

Remus had never seen himself as getting off on dirty talk, most of it up until this point consisted of clear directions to his former lovers. 

But if Sirius wanted him to talk, then the words would just come spilling out; falling out of his mouth and sprouting right in front of him, it feels easy.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” 

The pet name also just spilled out of his mouth, Remus didn’t even have time to react to his voice saying it until Sirius listened dutifully, still with those wide eyes locked on him.

“There you go.”

Remus places one knee on the bed, just between Sirius' legs and takes one of them in his hands. He massages the slim ankle bone there, glides his hands up and over taught calves and places kisses on knees that are so knobbly that he has to smile against the skin. 

Who would have thought that Sirius, with his striking beauty and perfect poise had such wonky-looking knees? 

It makes him human for once, it makes Remus want to kiss him even more. Sirius’ knobbly knees are a hit to his already shattered heart.

Remus softly caresses the soft skin behind the hinges of his knees until they relax and can be raised so that Sirius’ feet are planted against the bed and his thighs spread open further. Remus noses at the inside of his thigh and places kisses there, kisses his skin until it can’t be kissed anymore. Licks at the skin and tastes.

More.

Closer.

Remus places himself in between those thighs and finds Sirius’ hands trying to reach for him, to pull him up to him.

“Remus– please just-”

Remus takes those hands from his face and places them high on Sirius’ thighs instead, away from himself because this isn’t about him. 

This is about Sirius.

“Hold yourself open for me. There, just like that - good.”

Sirius releases a shaky breath, he sounds wrecked and gone with his hands holding himself open, with his cock weeping against his own stomach. 

Remus feels like a rabid dog, heart beating too fast and spit collecting in his mouth like a starving man laying his eyes on a feast. And Remus is that starving man.

What do starving men do?

They eat.

He licks - one broad stroke with his tongue against Sirius’ entrance, and wants to devour him whole. And Sirius’ thighs tense up before he releases another shaky breath, moaning as he exhales and tightens his fingers around his legs. 

Remus draws back, and spits against him before licking again. It’s a mess and it’s filthy and it’s goddamned divine. 

He holds Sirius’ hips still against the bed, keeping him from squirming under his tongue. So that he can take his time, to consume fully, before even thinking about entering him. He can work him over, and get him ready for an event Remus himself is not nearly ready, but desperate, for. 

Remus brushes a careful finger over that tight sensitive rim he is worshiping, applying the smallest pressure just to see. He is immediately rewarded by Sirius’ voice. 

“P–please.”

Remus bites down on his molars to keep from letting up.

His voice sounds rough, “What are you begging for, huh?” he asks, he even manages to sound nice about it - like he isn’t about to have his heart constricted and his head implode from need and want. 

He puts more pressure on that single finger slicked with his spit, and watches as it enters Sirius’ body, tight as all hell. Strokes.

“God, I– please–”

“Use your words.”

Remus adds another finger, pushes deeper, and crooks his fingers slightly until Sirius is a delirious mess on that bed. All jumbled words and moaning, trying so hard to be good and hold still for him. 

“I need– I need you inside me.”

“Like this?” Remus asks and presses on that spot that has Sirius cinch his eyes shut and let out a loud gasp.

He does it again. 

And again. 

He could do this all night, just watch and stroke and push until he sees tears falling down those pretty cheeks above him on the bed.

“More, please.”

It’s a pitiful thing, hearing Sirius beg for him. But it’s music to Remus’ ears, he could listen to it all day, would stay between his legs forever just to hear Sirius beg for him. 

It’s an unbelievable fantasy in which Remus’ head is just clear enough to be able to trust his own consciousness. He might have thought he was dreaming.

Remus continues to work him over, seemingly ignoring the pleas from above but really saving them all. Tucking them into his chest to keep for those lonely nights that are coming - he needs to remember this. 

He needs to remember what Sirius sounds like lost in his own desire, all stretched out over his fingers. Remus needs to remember what it feels like to have him claw for him, at his remaining clothes, and his body to get him closer. 

Soon this will all be over and Remus won’t even have the chance to see the brightest star in the night sky as he goes to fetch his coffee every morning. 

So he needs this. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” 

It may seem like a redundant question, being knuckle deep inside him and all - but Remus needs to hear it, out loud.

“Yes, please–please fuck me.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. God, you’re so pretty when you beg.”

He is. Sirius is just so sweet and pretty.

Remus reluctantly removes himself to stand, Sirius looks up with blown-out pupils that have devoured those gray irises and turned them almost pitch black in the low light of the room. He lies dazed and fucked out, his weeping cock neglected against his stomach. 

Remus undoes his belt and fly, janks his pants off, and can’t help but notice Sirius’ eyes looking him over with parted lips. As Remus works to get his pants fully off, Sirius gets up from his laid-down position - reaches for him. 

Remus immediately knows his intention and grabs his wrists before his hands reach him.

Sirius looks at him questioningly but Remus just shakes his head.

Because if Sirius puts his hands on him, or that pretty mouth of his - then all of this would be over. 

Remus doesn’t want that, if he only gets one chance of this then he wants Sirius writhing and coming underneath him.

Remus is still holding Sirius’ wrists as they lay back down, Remus finding home again between those thighs and he stretches their hands above Sirius’ head - interlacing their fingers. Remus removes one, just to hold out his palm underneath Sirius’ mouth and he gets it immediately; spits into Remus’ waiting hand who slicks his aching cock with it, and lines it up against Sirius' tight entrance.

And Remus kisses those lips again, after an eternity apart, tongues and lips as he pushes against the tightness. Sirius moans as Remus’ cock catches on the rim without fully entering, he tugs helplessly at their connected hands above him. 

Remus thrusts again.

This time he is enveloped by tight wet heat.

The kiss breaks as their gasps and moans force their mouths apart, vibrations felt in each chest that are so close in the way that they are lined up. Lips against lips, chest against chest, hips against the back of thighs as Remus works himself inside of him. 

He tries not to think too hard about it, about his looming terrible posture atop Sirius, like a hunching animal - a macabre reference to beauty and the beast in the dimmed light. He can’t let those thoughts win, not when he has Sirius like this, under and around him. Tight like a vice as he bottoms out.

“You feel unreal,” Remus says, the words punched out of him, completely lost in Sirius’ body and how it grips him like it never intends to let him go. 

And god, he never wants to leave. 

He wants to stay buried deep inside him forever, hear those whines against his lips as he moves, feel the heat burning and consuming him from the inside. He wants to stay in that intimacy that comes from fucking and holding hands whilst doing so. 

Remus snaps his hips forward and if Sirius had intended to answer, that response just died on his tongue. Like the ebb and the flow of the sea, their bodies move together on the bed, gripping each other’s hands so tight there must be half-moon-shaped imprints left on the skin by the other’s nails. Sloppy kisses are shared between open mouths and punched-out breaths, keening moans and that gasp Sirius lets out when Remus hits something inside of him that makes his back arch. 

“Remus,” Sirius moans, “Harder– please just– fuck– harder.”

This time it is Remus’ turn to listen, he puts more weight onto those fists that are still holding Sirius’ beautiful fingers - tries to remember to care for those fingers afterward, and forces his thrusts deeper, harder. He has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from coming already, to hold it out a little bit longer. 

“Like that, baby?” he asks and grinds deep inside. 

“Yes– don’t stop.”

“God… I’m not– I’m not stopping.”

Remus feels it, he feels Sirius’ cock twitch where it is pressed between the two of them. He feels Sirius’ body tighten around him, a premonition. He hears Sirius whisper through his moans, how he is close, to keep going, prayer after prayer seeping from those lips. His name.

“Remus–”
Remus breaks the kiss, if only to be able to see when it happens; what Sirius looks like when he comes. And it is nothing short of divine the way his eyes gloss over and his lips part and his thighs twitch as he comes, slicking their skin between them and moaning through it. It’s godly and sinful and all things combined. It’s everything, to see Sirius come, it sets him ablaze. 

There’s a tightness that builds at the base of Remus’ spine, he is so close.

“Fuck, Sirius–”

Sirius looks fucked out, “Come inside me,” he says, still riding that high, not yet landing.

And Remus does.

Stars blind his vision as the tension builds and threatens to snap his spine in half, warmth and need flooding his system like morphine in his veins. It’s just Sirius, under him, around him. Tucked inside his chest.

Ecstasy.

A crescendo.

*

Between messy kisses and bodies coming down from that high that brought them here, they fall asleep, tucked close together and still reeling with the aftermath. Sleep collects them without them being aware enough of it.

Somehow the light beside the bed is turned off and the room is shrouded in darkness that covers their naked bodies which have since gotten themselves under the covers. 

A soft silence has fallen upon the grounds of the Godric Estate, the grass and leaves have started to collect small diamond drops of dew and it is time for the few hours of pitch black before the sun starts to rise and the birds start to thrill again. 

On a table on the patio that is connected to the main house, stands two empty wine glasses and two empty bottles, two indents on the couch can still be spotted. There is nothing extraordinary about this picture. But it is the scene where Remus Lupin finally cracked - like an egg falling off a counter. 

In those hours, where one sleeps deep enough to feel rested the morning after, but awake enough to have memories of turning between the sheets - that’s where they are now. Soft and pliant and no longer restricted by their interrupting racing thoughts. 

It is there where Remus turns around in bed, hands searching the sheets to find another in the dark. He finds soft skin that he pulls toward him, in between sheets and the strange state where asleep and awake reside. 

There is no judgment in the dark, no expectations that need to be met for them there. They can close their eyes and pretend that whatever consequences are to be expected, can be ignored for the time being. 

They kiss.

Softly and caringly. 

Remus is pulled in and out of consciousness with every breath, kisses Sirius’ lips kisses him back and scoots closer. A lazy display that tangles with dreams and careful touches, hidden in the dark. 

A few short hours ago they tore at each other's clothes and tried to ignore what this would mean later. 

Now they’re just wrapped up in each other, pretending this is somehow okay - the intimacy of falling asleep in the others’ arms and getting closer and closer. 

But none of this is okay.

*

Remus wakes when the early morning light sneaks its way in through the curtains. It’s getting brighter and brighter and his sensitive head always refuses to let him sleep for too long a day after consuming large quantities of wine. 

It’s quiet.

The only sound comes from Sirius softly breathing beside him, lying on his arm just a few centimeters away. There is a calmness on his face, softly closed eyes, and parted lips that breathes so soundly - he is still asleep. Remus is not.

So he takes his time. Documents every angle and soft shadow, and makes sure he preserves it in his mind's eye. He can’t stay here, it’s not possible. The fact of the matter sits like a stone in his chest, how the two of them shared wine and nicotine until Remus so obscenely kissed him.

After one more deep breath, he realizes he will have to leave the bed, no matter how little he actually wants to do just that. 

He wants to stay, to wake up with Sirius, see if he wants to skip out on the rest of the day, and maybe continue their conversation from last night. 

He wants to ask what his favorite color is. What his favorite food is and if maybe Remus can cook it for him some time - no matter how complicated. He wants to hear about the photograph that’s pinned to his desk, hear the whole story, and ask follow-up questions.

But that’s not going to happen. 

So Remus starts to back out of the bed, carefully removing his arm where it acts as Sirius’ pillow; black hair trailing over his skin. He gets dressed and tries to ignore the chill of the room that wasn’t present late last night, nor early in the morning whilst still draped around Sirius. He buttons his pants and makes sure the belt doesn’t clink too badly, feels for his room key in his pocket, and puts his shirt back on. 

He spares Sirius the awkward conversation that is about to come, the ‘I’m sorry, we were drunk and didn’t know what we were doing’ conversation, the ‘I don’t want anything serious’ conversation that he isn’t sure he’d survive partaking in. So he leaves instead. 

Remus steps out and closes the door carefully behind him. The grass on the grounds is covered in dew, it wets his shoes as he crosses the area to his own room. The echo of his lonely heart rings in his ears - lonesome in its single beat. 

Unlocks the door. 

Shuts it behind him.

Falls into bed.

Doesn’t get out until the shuttle is there to take everybody back to the office again.

Chapter Text

Wednesdays are the worst.

Especially in mid-March when the rain pelts on the window as if they have done something nasty to offend the clouds above. Remus hasn’t slept well, he rarely does on the nights of the full moon, his mother used to say that some people suffered like that - being plagued by nightmares and bad sleep during that particular lunar state.

The coffee machine hums. It’s unnecessarily loud for the sort of shit beverage it produces, nothing like the French press and the carefully ground beans he has at home but it will have to do. 

He just needs something to dull his pounding head. It thuds as if he were hungover, all cotton around his ears, and a bad taste in his mouth from lack of sleep.

Remus stands by the pin board that is hung right by the entrance to the breakroom, reading a note pinned to it about maintenance or something when he faintly hears the sound of roaring laughter getting closer. 

It’s way too early for this, he thinks, and is just about to take a sip of the still too-hot coffee.

Something slams into his shoulder with full force, making the hot coffee spill all over his shirt.

“God– Fuck!” he exclaims and it burns, not bad enough to cause severe damage to his skin but goddamnit does it hurt.

“Oh my god,” Sirius has stopped in his tracks with his arms extended like he isn’t sure what to do, behind him James scrambles to the large roll of paper napkins. “I’m so sorry!”

Remus doesn’t need this right now.

God, his head hurts and he is tired as all hell. He just got severely cheated on and he doesn’t need some careless pretty boy ramming into him and causing him to spill coffee all over himself. 

Not a small stain either.

“Shit, watch where you're going - fuck,” Remus says as he flicks his hand to get the liquid dripping down his hands. 

Sirius just stands with his mouth open as James hands Remus the tissues. He takes them and starts aggressively wiping himself off, coffee soaking through his shirt and sticking to his skin.

“Remus… I’m so sorry.” 

“Just–” Remus feels heated by anger, about to say something lethal and storm off before he remembers that this is a workplace, “Have some spatial awareness next time.” His tone is harsh, cold - and furious. 

“Can I get you a new coffee, Lupin?” James asks, a fixer by heart as Sirius just stands there uselessly, it pisses Remus off even worse. 

“Yeah, dark roast with a splash of milk - less than you’d think.”

James hands him his fresh cup just as Remus realizes he will have to change into the ratty T-shirt he brought for his first climbing session. He looks down at the cup.

Always too much milk.

*

“I’m officially resigning.”

Poppy sits on the other side of the desk in between them, legs crossed over the other and those glasses perched on top of her head. She smiles lightly.

“I know this isn’t my place to say but I’m so happy for you Remus - very sad for us, we’re losing a fantastic employee. But I’m very happy for you.”

Remus smiles a little back, it feels strained and like the muscles don't remember how to. A stretch in his cheeks. Poppy continues, “I’m assuming this is your two weeks' notice.”

“It is.”

“And you’ll go on vacation right after, correct?”

“Correct.”

Poppy stands and Remus follows her lead, she extends her hand and Remus takes it - and shakes it.

“We’ll be sad to see you go, Remus. But I’m sure this is absolutely the correct choice for you. Good luck.”

When Remus exits Poppy’s office it is to a landscape that should be familiar to him but that looks totally different in the late June sun that slips through the blinds. His days in this office are counted, for one.

And the entire sales staff is off on a sales trip.

It’s remarkably quieter as Remus goes back to his desk, so quiet and calm that the only thing he can hear is the tapping on computer keyboards and the annoying hum of the coffee machine, sometimes the printer. But no loud laughter or the buttering offers during cold calls. It is eerie in its unfamiliarity, he noticed all of those sounds before - he just never realized how much it made up the scenery of the office. 

Just two more weeks. 

Remus knows what will happen, he knows that the last two weeks will pass by slower than ever before - now that there is a countdown set on the clock. He knows that he will slowly stop caring about his responsibilities, he will just try to tie up some loose ends before his departure and his vacation. Maybe create some how-to guides for the next poor soul who is lucky enough to take over his position when he is no longer here.

Remus resigns himself to it. Resigns himself to the slow dragging days and goes home just to feel lonelier and lonelier once more, meets the group for his regular climbing sessions, and call his parents to organize his arrival on his first week of vacation. It will be fine.

It’s not fine yet.

But it will be.

*

The August heat forces its way through the windows, despite the air conditioning, Remus can feel it crawling up his neck. If he hadn’t just come back from his time off of helping his dad put in the new deck at their house, now sporting a pretty decent farmer's tan he might be at risk of getting a sunburn just by sitting at his desk.

He sighs again just looking at his calculations and the copy of the budget, it doesn’t make sense. It’s off by a pretty significant amount and it really shouldn’t be, Remus knows Horace’s has had a good year so far - clients coming in and all that.

“Pomona, can you come look at this?” 

He doesn’t like asking for her help, it’s not that she isn’t helpful - she just usually shrugs and rolls back to her desk, not very investigative, that one. But she does roll over to Remus, and they look at the spreadsheets together. Pomona hums a bit and asks him to scroll through the list of clients, and then again, and then again.

“What?” Remus asks when Pomona hums again, glancing at an angle through her reading glasses.

She leans a bit on the armrest of her chair, “Can’t be sure but looks like the Emerson deal isn’t in yet. Pretty huge contract if I remember correctly.”

The Emerson deal.

That large design firm that is moving in a few months. Large office, almost five hundred employees that are relocating to the other side of the city. Poppy had sent two of her best sales associates and two of the most experienced team leaders just to create a credible cost calculation that was part of the offer they delivered to the potential client - the potential client who agreed.

Pomona is right, it is a huge contract. And it should have been submitted to the projections a while ago.

“Who was responsible for entering the contract?” Remus asks, already having a hunch of who it could be.

“The sales associates, Alice and Sirius, I believe.”

“Right.” 

Pomona rolls back to her desk and Remus tugs his glasses off his face and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Does he need to chase around the sales team on this fine August afternoon? Not really, if he is being honest with himself. He could just email Alice and Sirius and ask for the contract - but an email is so easy to ignore, it gets more immediate results if he just confronts them directly.

So he locks his home screen on his computer and heads in the direction of the sales department. Alice isn’t there, but Sirius is, and a few other associates that have nothing to do with the Emerson contract.

Sirius looks deep in thought as he reads through a document on his computer and talks to someone on the phone simultaneously. He glances back as Remus stops right behind him with arms crossed over his chest, trying to appear as neutral as possible.

“I see the issue… what if– yeah, we can probably swing that. How about I come by and take a look early next week? Right, certainly.”

Remus can’t make out what the other person is saying on the phone but apparently, it’s positive enough for Sirius to smile as he opens his calendar and makes a note for a meeting on Monday morning.

“Wonderful, take care. Bye.”

Sirius hangs up and swivels around in his chair, a large smile on his face as he speaks, “Sorry about that, Lupin. A client needed to update some things in their current contract.” He gestures nonchalantly  “What can I help you with?”

Remus has no time for small talk, “Where is the Emerson deal?”

“The Emerson deal?” 

Remus fights the urge to roll his eyes at the cluelessness, “The big design firm we’re moving in a few months? The huge office with the massive computer screens that need like, two extra trucks just to get them to their even larger office safely?” 

Sirius’ eyes light up with recognition, “Oh, right the Emerson deal! What about it?” 

“Who entered it into the system? It’s missing from the projections list and I thought the sales team - meaning you or Alice - were in charge of that one.”

Sirius looks at him puzzlingly with those bright gray eyes of his, “Right but not yet, the team leader is still negotiating with them.”

“Why?”

“Because we have kind of managed to convince them to use us for their office cleanings as well. One of the team leaders took over the negotiation from us to do that. Alice was supposed to have sent an email to you saying the contract would be delayed until they reached an agreement.” 

Remus clenches his fists which are hidden under his still crossed arms, “I never got that email.” It sounds childish coming from his mouth, the tone with the crossed arms. 

“You know what, I’ll call up the team leader and let her know we need it as soon as possible and I’ll enter it myself as soon as I have it. That sound all right with you?”

Remus, who had decided already before he walked over to Sales that he’d be right angry about this, can’t seem to drop the act even though it has resolved itself so quickly.

“You go ahead and do that.” 

Then he walks off, not unlike a toddler storming off after being denied dessert before dinner.

When Remus looks through his inbox once more he spots it - the already opened and read email from Alice explaining the circumstances of the delay of the Emerson contract.

*

When Remus gets home after his second to last Friday at Horace’s he feels drained in a way he hasn’t since midterm season back at university. His head feels useless and he has no idea how he managed so many nights coming back home after a day at that office.

It’s like he gets dumber every day there - which is highly unfortunate because he got the offer from AP&W because of his sharp analytical skills and his work ethic, which both seem to have disappeared since getting the offer.

He stands in the middle of his apartment with his arms hanging uselessly by his sides. Around this time last week, he was getting dressed to go to a corporate dinner at a conference an hour away from the city. 

This time last week he would soon be sitting across from a much older man flirting with Sirius and he would be feeling some type of way about it. This night last week he would spend hours sitting on cold cushions on a patio outside, drinking stolen red wine and laughing until his sides hurt from the one coworker who he thought made his entire workplace unpleasant.

He would kiss said coworker and he would–

Remus’ thoughts are interrupted by the feel of his phone vibrating in his pocket. Lily is calling him.

“Hi, Lily. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks and his voice sounds tired and drained, much unlike the shrill of Lily’s on the other side of the line.

“I'm engaged!!” 

*

Just by looking at the two of them, one might guess that Lily Evans actually accompanied Remus to the company holiday party, this assumption would be wrong as she has spent almost every day since the last time she was his date to this, with James. But he is currently running around with Sirius and Lily is left to the company of Remus, the two of them hanging by the side of the bar, sipping a signature drink and catching up.

“So you’re happy at least? Even though he left you to your own devices to run around with his best friend like school children at a corporate holiday party?” Remus gets a slap on the arm for that one, not that he didn’t deserve it, mind.

Lily grins over the rim of her glass, “I’m very happy - he’s fantastic. And if being left to my own devices means I’m being left with you it seems like a pretty good deal.”

Remus smiles at that, because it’s a nice sentiment. 

“So you don’t mind the two of them running around like schoolchildren then?” 

Lily laughs and takes a sip of her drink, “I don’t know what you have against them, Remus, but they’re actually–”

“Oh, I have no problem with James - it’s his friend I don’t like,” Remus interrupts.

“Right, well - I know that. You’ve told me that before, plenty of times I might add, how annoying you find Sirius,” she teases, and right before Remus is about to interrupt her again she continues, “And incompetent and an airhead.”

Remus frowns, “Well, that makes me sound like a dick.”

“That’s because you are a dick,” Lily laughs again as she fiddles with her straw, “You’re brash and impatient and kind of mean sometimes - a whole lot more since Ben might I add. But no, you rather sound like a schoolboy yourself, you know. A schoolboy with a crush on the pretty girl who doesn’t know how to express it.”

Remus' mouth drops open, offended. “I resent that!” he exclaims, “First of all, I do not have a crush on Black, he is impossible and arrogant and self-absorbed. Second of all, he is not a pretty girl. He is a pretty boy and there’s a huge difference.”

Lily just laughs into her cocktail at that one.

She is immediately interrupted by her boyfriend and his best friend belting out in a Christmas carol and forcing the now very intoxicated Horace Slughorn to harmonize with them.  

*

Lily, Remus’ best friend in the entire world, is getting married. Not that it was any shock or anything, it’s just the end of an era, sort of. The definitive proof that they are growing up, a step Remus might have taken if he was still with Ben currently.

But he isn’t, so he won’t.

The only shocker might have been the way it happened. When Lily called him, she had already been engaged for almost an entire week but the two of them had decided to not tell anyone before it fully sank in for them both. 

Remus also suspects it had to do with the familial aspects as well. Lily isn’t close to her sister so gathering up the nerve to inform her of what had happened was one thing she wasn’t so keen on actually doing and Remus had heard that James’ parents were wonderful people but would likely go over the top at the announcement so they had to steel themselves for that one, too. 

But now the announcements were made and Lily informs Remus that he should most likely expect an invitation to an engagement party sent out by Effie and Fleamont Potter early next week.

When the two of them met more than a year and a half ago James nearly fell on his ass, made a total fool of himself trying to push people out of the way and all - just to go up to talk to her. It was the first time that Ben hadn’t come with Remus as his date, said he had a bunch to do at work which Remus later realized must have been total bullshit, and it’s not like he was a very good date at that.

But James had been determined, had known instantly that Remus and Lily were just friends - what that said about Remus which made it impossible for her to be his partner he didn’t want to think too hard about. The confidence of that man was impressive, that’s for sure, if only Remus could borrow a smidge he would most likely be somewhere different today.

Lily had been slightly more cool about the entire thing, she wanted to take it slow and all. It didn’t really happen that way since the two became inseparable soon after - to the point where one and a half years didn’t seem like too short of time before announcing their engagement, and even buying a house together a few months before.

That’s what Remus wants sometime.

To be with a partner where everything just falls into place. Where time is all relative and nothing is as sure as the confidence in the other person. 

Now he just has an empty apartment and the hope that he’ll bring a date to his friends’ wedding. 

*

Remus is fuming . 

His head is straining and his joints feel stiff and he is freezing despite the air conditioning units at the office have never been fully reliable. 

He is coming down with a cold.

That is the only possible explanation for the swelling he starts to feel in his throat and the pulsing headache about to form. 

A loud laugh interrupts his misery, worsening it, “-you scoundrel Mr. Anderson! You know what I’ll do? I’ll try to see if-“

And then the voice disappears as Sirius talks on the phone and simultaneously walks past and heads to the break room.

Remus wants to bang his head on his desk, but that would be counterintuitive. 

*

When Remus fell in love with the first time it was with a boy a few years older at school. Remus was thirteen and fresh to the world, with no hardened skin to protect him from the fall and splatter of heartbreak.

When Remus fell in love for real, he was twenty-one and it was with the handsome bartender at a university bar. Ben had Remus wrapped around his finger after that first meeting.

Falling in love with Ben was easy.

It was stuttering smiles and heady makeouts and study sessions that lead to forgotten books and missed pop quizzes. 

But it was never hard.

Never hard in that strange way where you’re battling with yourself in an endless tug of war. 

Because Ben was an open book. His feelings were easily available on his smooth, carefree face. He made sure there were no doubts in Remus’ mind about where his heart lay. And Remus trusted that, trusted that he would be able to see if anything was wrong to the point of becoming blind to it.

He does that a lot. 

Sets his mind to something just to be completely blindsided by another outcome. 

This is what he reflects on lying restless in bed one night. Sheets wrapped all around him in a knot of long limbs and overthinking, unable to fall asleep.

He should have known.

Those first initial sparks that lit up his insides like a show of fireworks were actually detrimental to his emotional being. There is no way of escaping unscathed. 

Falling to temptation never meant that he would rid himself of it, not that he suspected it would.

Remus wants to fall asleep, to shut out the outside world for a moment but his eyes are wide open. Maybe for the first time properly, since he saw all of those messages on a shared iPad.

And when his eyes are wide open, it’s hard to ignore what is coming for him in the corner of his vision. An avalanche he will have no way of escaping, getting stuck in the endless mass of snow and ice set out to tumble him and make a mess of him. 

Things have been shaken loose within him that are impossible to put back. He won’t be able to go back.

That heat he always felt.

That heat of anger that made his pulse race and the back of his neck to feel prickly, the tension around his shoulders. It was never anger.

It was never anger, that feeling he felt when Sirius would spring up on him with questions by his desk.

Remus squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the embarrassment. 

It is embarrassing, how he misplaced his annoyance and just figured it out when taking that annoyance to bed. 

In a romantic movie, Remus would figure it out in the middle of the day, possibly seeing something or someone that reminded him of Sirius. He would stop dead in his tracks and let his jaw hang loose and realize that it was him, all this time.

Maybe he’d turn 180 degrees and sprint in the direction in which he came from just to get to Sirius, wherever he may be. He might write an intricate, soul-spilling email or leave a breathless message on his answering machine. 

Reality isn’t like that.

In reality, feelings don’t automatically swell with the background music. In reality, people don’t automatically fall into each other's arms as soon as they have figured it all out. 

In reality, you lie awake at night and start to put words to the feeling of the pitch-black sinkhole in the middle of your chest. Why the ghost of a memory linger on your skin and why you feel your heart racing even in your lonesome.

It’s cliche, but it’s the boiling of the frog. 

Remus has been steeped in the water for long enough, the heat so gradually increasing without him knowing. He had just been angry and detached about sitting in the pot in the first place.

Now the water is boiling.

And Remus is falling. 

Endlessly, independently. And completely alone.

*

It’s June, the whole office is busying itself with getting everything ready for the conference and the last-minute presentation for the summer holidays. 

Remus is standing by the drumming coffee machine, waiting for the drip to fill his cup.

“Good morning, Lupin,” Sirius says as he walks by, opening a cabinet to retrieve a cup of his own.

He flicks his hair over his shoulder effortlessly and tosses a smile in Remus' direction that is bright enough to be considered a traffic hazard.

Remus just barely manages not to be blinded by it, “Good morning, Sirius.” He shoots off his own smile, much less striking. 

Sirius leans his hip against the counter, “Busy day today?” 

Remus tries to avoid looking at him directly, as if doing so would cause him huge grievances. He nails his gaze on the dripping coffee in front of him. He shakes his head.

“Not too bad, I finished most of it yesterday, now it’s just some fine-tuning on the presentation.”

“Always so efficient, huh?” A laugh plays at the edge of Sirius’ voice, it suits him. 

“I try to be.”

Remus takes his cup and risks sending Sirius another smile. He feels socially incompetent the way he is lingering still and keeps wracking his head for something else to say to justify continuing their small talk.

Remus never wants to small talk.

Sirius hovers with his finger on the display of the machine, trying to decide what drink he should get.

“Do you pick different coffees every day?”

Smart!

That sounded really intelligent, Lupin.

God-fucking-damnit.

Sirius hums with a smile, “I try to, if there’s this much variety why not take advantage of it?”

Remus, who would never see the varieties of coffee in the breakroom coffee machine as anything else than filler on the menu display, can somewhat understand where Sirius is coming from.

He doesn’t agree, mind. 

But that statement makes sense for Sirius. Sirius is the type of person to choose a different coffee option every day, just to try them all thoroughly.

There’s not much more to say and no reason for Remus’ lingering. He scratches at the back of his neck as if to alleviate the burning sensation. 

“Have a good day, Sirius”

When he turns, Remus isn’t quick enough to avert his eyes and is hit straight in the chest by that megawatt smile. 

“You too!”

*

On his last Friday at Horace’s, Remus is surprised by a goodbye cake and a party in the breakroom. Poppy gifts him a handsome set of coffee cups that is the result of pooling together around the office to send him off with something nice. Everyone on his floor is there; James and Pete stand by the pinboard and talks about football, Pomona sits with Gil by the tables and a mingle of others scatter in and out for cakes and bidding Remus farewell. Even Horace makes a brief appearance, still in his golf attire and a nice farmer's tan already building.

Poppy licks the frosting off of her spoon, “We’ll miss you, I hope you know that,” she smiles at him.

Remus can’t help but smile a little at that, because he will miss them too. Not enough to stay, now there are better things waiting for him. But this was his workplace for his entire adult life up until now, it’s hard to understand that he will never say hello to the receptionist downstairs, ride the elevators, stare at the glossy photograph on his way to his desk, ever again.

So he just smiles a little, “I’ll miss you too,” he says. And he means Poppy. And he means Pete and James and Pomona on those days when he can put up with her grumbling. And he will miss Sirius. He will miss those idiotic questions that made his pulse race and his skin prick on days when he felt like a walking shell of a man. 

But Sirius isn’t here.

So Remus eats his cake instead, and tries not to think about how terrible it feels to know that he won’t share the office’s gray carpets and fluorescent lights with a person so bright. With him. 

“Hey, Lupin!” James' voice is strong and bright, “We need a picture for the intranet, smile!” he says and holds out his phone and takes a picture of Remus eating cake by the microwaves with his boss in her bright pink reading glasses perched on top of her head.

After the cake and the goodbyes and Remus redirecting all of his incoming emails to the accounting and finance department-wide email inbox, he logs in to the intranet just to see the announcement.

We, at Horace’s Home & Business Services, thank Remus Lupin for his five-year employment with us. Remus has been a reliable and knowledgeable coworker and a trusted friend to many. Good luck in your future endeavors, Remus!

Chapter Text

Remus has four weeks of vacation every summer. Every year it follows roughly the same itinerary, slightly different since he became single but it wasn’t like Ben and him actually spent their vacations fully together so the adjustment was smaller than Remus first realized. The fact that his partner of seven years didn’t want to plan their vacations together made him sad at first, but then he realized that it didn’t matter anyway and was just an easier transition into his single life.

Anyway, Remus usually spends a week with his parents in his hometown. He helps out in the garden, meets up with the few friends he has that still live in the small town and to go down to the local pub a few nights and gossip about their old classmates and teachers, he bakes with his mother and lets himself be spoiled as he sleeps in on the same old bed that has been in his bedrooms since he was a teenager.

Then he usually spends a week at home, this week is most often dedicated to reading and going to the occasional farmer's market to find veggies in season that spruce up his meals or artisanal honey that he drizzles in his tea or over crumbly pieces of goat cheese. He might take a blanket and his library card and sit in a park somewhere, reading a novel cover to cover before returning the book and going home to pour himself a glass of wine even if it’s just a Tuesday.

The third week is for another trip, some years this trip was with Ben, other years it was with Lily, but this is usually around the time when Remus feels he needs to get out of the city again, out of his apartment. 

So he might drive down the coast and spend it in a small beach house, doing very similar things that he would have done back home. Or he might fly to a different city and visit museums and churches and take guided tours of breweries or vineyards, if there is room in his and the other’s budget. 

The fourth week he’d be home again, doing his laundry and shopping for a new shirt - freaking out over the fact that his vacation is nearly over once more. 

*

Week 1 

Sleeping in his teenage bed relaxes him whilst also bringing a crick to his neck at the same time. But the way the sun filters in through the curtains and the sound of his mother banging around in the kitchen downstairs brings a sense of nostalgia to Remus that is so strong it makes him want to weep a little.

He gets up and gets dressed in his work shorts and an old t-shirt that he keeps in the old chest of drawers and is covered with paint splatter. They’re repainting the old shed today so the shirt is perfect for the occasion.

Hope greets him by kissing his temple and dumping two perfectly fried eggs on his plate, even though he is nearly thirty years old and makes breakfast for himself every morning. 

She doesn’t have to, but she does anyway and Remus is so starved for any type of affection that he doesn’t even bother commenting on it, like telling her that she doesn’t have to fuss over him. He just takes it and digs in.

Remus is standing in the sun with the sun beating down on his now bare back and paints with thick brushes against the aging wood of the shed, his dad is standing on the other wall, in the shade, and doing the same thing. 

The small radio that usually sits inside the shed has been brought out and plays some old rock hits that Lyall hums along to.

“So Remus, dating anyone as of late?”

Remus definitely got his no-nonsense attitude from his dad, that’s for sure. Remus smiles a little crookedly and drags the paintbrush down against the rough grains. 

“No, not really. I’m not sure I’m interested in that right now.”

He had told them all about the new job during a long phone call the weekend after he came home from the conference, they had congratulated him and talked at length about how proud of him they were. 

Remus couldn’t help but feel bad about it since the main reason for calling them that day had been to distract himself from–

“That’s too bad, son. You’re a catch.” Lyall smiles his signature grin that lets Remus know not to take the joke too seriously. “I’m sure the boys are falling over themselves for you back in that large city of yours.”

Remus huffs a laugh, “I’m pretty sure that’s not the case, Dad. And if it were, it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Could’ve sworn Hope said that that handsome-looking fella that you met at the theater kept making eyes at you.”

Sirius, Remus wants to correct. Because Sirius is not just a handsome-looking fella. He is in a league of his own. 

Remus swallows around the huge knot in his throat, “She has to say that, she’s my mother.”

The truth is, Remus hasn’t let himself think about Sirius since the night when it happened, not properly at least. It feels important - not to think about it. To choke down the wave of emotion that overwhelms him when he does.

For what is he to do if he lets himself think? Is he supposed to think about it like a dear memory? Something to reminisce over and possibly touch himself to whilst the memories of Sirius’ soft skin and breathy moans play like a filthy film in his head. 

Is he supposed to think about falling? About the complexities of love and feeling and belonging? Alone.

Or maybe Remus is supposed to be embarrassed, to cringe at his own actions and try to forget it ever happened. 

If he lets himself think about it he just gets sad, he finds.

Like losing something he never really had in the first place. Not like fucking up an opportunity that never really had the chance to grow, but rather like he got a small sample of something that never should have been his to taste in the first place. 

And all of that is difficult to explain to his old father.

His father who was so gracious when he came out - even though he had never known a queer person in the flesh before, and despite that his father just fully embraced that part of him without a doubt.

In that situation, it is hard to explain how you have fully been so out of touch by attraction and dating and love so bad that you have managed to confuse the very notion of desire with hatred, all thanks to a shitty ex-boyfriend who never treated you right to begin with. 

And how, when you realized that you have made that huge misinterpretation, it was because of someone so far out of your league it might as well be a sinister joke the universe is playing on you. 

No, Lyall Lupin would not understand that reasoning. He would not understand that Sirius Black is not for Remus to taste - and despite it all, now that he has, he can’t believe how he will settle for anything less. He can’t be vigilant enough to keep his thoughts at bay.

Remus drags the paintbrush through the paint and starts stroking the boards with it, covering up the old color with the new one and transforming the wall of the shed to resemble something new again.

That night Remus meets up with a few friends from primary school down at the pub. They play darts and drink beers and talk about old memories, reminiscing about their school days and sharing small-town gossip between them like a bag of chips around a picnic table. 

Henry just bought a house and is renovating the kitchen, Emma just told her very conservative parents that she is not planning to have children, ever, and Kim shares stories about the kids she teaches in kindergarten and how one of them managed to put glue on her chair so that she ruined her pants when she sat down in it.

Remus got to tell the whole group about his new job, which filled almost an hour of impressed oohs and aahs along with difficult questions about risk analysis he is not qualified to answer just yet. 

He also let it slip that he went on a terrible date and indulged in people laughing at his misfortune without feeling the least bit sad about it. 

The fact that he fucked his coworker, he keeps to himself. Remus figures that that story may also get those same laughs, but that he is not nearly strong enough to bear them.

When he wakes the day after the rain is hitting hard outside and the skies are so gray he can barely look at them, they remind him of something he hasn’t allowed himself to think of for more than two weeks, possibly longer.

His dad had to go for an errand so it’s just his mother, Hope, tinkering about in the kitchen. Her arms are filled with a large bag of flour and some packets of yeast. 

“Good day for baking, no?” Hope nods to the window where the raindrops chase each other on the glass. 

“Good day for baking,” Remus confirms, and just like he did when he was a small child - this time without having to stand on a chair to reach the counter properly - he helps his mother bake large loaves of bread that will be sliced and dipped into fragrant tomato soup later that evening. 

*

Week 2 

Remus finds himself in a very lovely routine during his second week of vacation. He wakes up and swims, he reads or shops, or watches trashy TV if the weather is bad or he takes long walks around his neighborhood. 

Since getting along with James he now decides that when meeting up with Lily, they sometimes do it at her house where Remus invites himself over for dinner, or they come by his so that he can repay the favor. 

If he wasn’t convinced about their relationship before, he certainly is now - sitting at their kitchen island with a freshly poured glass of cold spritzy white wine with Lily as James fiddles around the kitchen cooking them a fabulous meal. 

Quiet music is playing in the background and James handles Lily’s teasing with grace and quip of his own. It is wonderful to see how two people can complete each other in a way where that doesn't come off as codependent or strange. 

There’s a large gleaming diamond on Lily’s finger that catches the light in the kitchen and Remus just grins when he catches Lily glancing at it sporadically. 

James treats them both to a story of how Sirius and himself learned Morse code just so they could communicate in class with their sternest teacher at boarding school, how they would tap their desks or their feet just to talk to each other despite being an entire classroom apart.

“No wonder I can’t remember anything from her class anymore, I had to put my full attention to Sirius rapping at his desk,” James laughs and Remus drinks a large sip from his glass just to keep his mouth from involuntarily asking how Sirius is doing.

When he gets home, stuffed from James’ surprising cooking abilities and a few nice glasses of wine, the loneliness seems to have latched itself into the very wallpaper in his apartment. 

It is like there is a Sirius-shaped hole in the place, like the ghost of him is still trailing around the kitchen and the rooms. Remus isn’t sure why since Sirius hadn’t even been there, why his ghost would linger is impossible to understand.

Maybe it’s because of Remus’ secret wish that he actually managed to get Sirius to his apartment - to invite him in and hang his jacket on the hook, see his shoes standing next to his own.

It is maybe because Remus secretly wants to see Sirius sit at the table whilst preparing him a meal and marvel at the sight of his face lit up by tea lights placed in small glass candleholders. 

Or maybe the ghost of Sirius can be felt here because it hasn’t anything to do with Remus' desires to bring him here, but everything to do with the fact that Sirius clings to Remus very being and the imprint is not left on the wood floors or the kitchen table but on the interior of himself. Maybe that is why. 

Remus goes to bed and lies on his side as he always has.

He has always been the only one in this bed - the few romantic encounters he has had since moving in were always at the other one’s place. Now he looks over at the other side and strokes his palm across the smooth sheets.

He’d fit in so well there.

So well Remus can almost see gray eyes look back at him underneath long black eyelashes and tattooed skin. 

Waking up the next day Remus tries to correct himself from last night by swimming for double the usual amount of time and then picking up Crime and Punishment from the library by the park. Despite his brought snacks and bottle of water, he knows he won’t be able to finish the brick of classic Russian literature in one sitting but that is just fine for now. 

He lays with his head supported by his tote bag and has rolled up his thin linen pants to get some sun on his bony ankles.

There are people having picnics in the park, large blankets with plastic containers where a mother and father pick out triangle-cut sandwiches from and hand them to their curly-haired children. A middle-aged man is throwing a frisbee to a high-energy border collie who has its tongue out and eyes gleaming. 

Despite being a paperback the novel is heavy in his hands and the subject sets a comfortable buzz of anxiety in Remus that he remembers from his first read more than ten years ago. The murder of an innocent, the gut-wrenching guilt, and the sense of paranoia that haunt the protagonist against the backdrop of poverty in Russia.

Remus may not know the exact conversion rate of Russian rubles, especially not for today's value. But comparing the prices mentioned in Crime and Punishment to the prices in Anna Karenina makes him feel for Dostojevski’s protagonist. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think of the novel about one particular Russian aristocrat as it just reminds him of a conversation on a patio several weeks ago.

It’s pathetic.

When he goes home late that afternoon he opens a bottle of wine even though it’s only a Tuesday evening and texts Gid and Fabian that he’d love to meet them at the pub tomorrow for pints and a game of pool. He needs the distraction more than ever. 

*

Week 3 

The third week of this year's vacation has to be the one that’s most different from previous years. 

Sure, he had always tried to go somewhere during this particular week but he had never once been to Marlene’s parents’ house which sits by the cliffs close to the ocean. Remus takes the train there and is picked up by both Marlene and Dorcas in an old beat-up truck that apparently belongs to the house. 

They drive close to twenty minutes from the little town until the air smells of salty breeze and the funky scent of dried seaweed. 

The house is old but charming, Remus has to duck when entering through the different rooms as the house was not built to accommodate his height. The garden is overgrown and between two old and weathered fruit trees, someone has hung a hammock. Clean linens hang on a washline and the sound of the waves can be heard when the kitchen window is open. 

He arrived in the afternoon and before they drove from the station in town out to the house they stopped at the store for some grocery shopping. Dorcas is putting the groceries away as Remus follows Marlene to the guest bedroom so he can drop off his weekend bag. 

Crowding in on each other in the small kitchen Remus is tasked with chopping up vegetables for the salad that will go with dinner and Dorcas and Marlene move around each other constantly filling up his wine glass and finishing the other’s sentences. It’s fluid, the way they move and act. Marlene will take a piece of feta cheese from the cutting board and pop it into Dorcas’ mouth without even interrupting herself. Dorcas will hand her the cutlery and a wad of napkins and a kiss on the cheek without stopping stirring the pot on the stove.

Remus, having finished with the salad, watches them quietly. It feels intimate without it being inconsiderate - the way they display their relationship so boldly with such small gestures.

“So how does it feel, leaving Horace’s?” Dorcas asks when the dinner has been eaten on the table outside and they have brought out the second bottle of wine and blankets to sit under when the sun has set and the air has turned balmy.

Remus thinks for a moment, “It feels different… Not strange just yet because I always have vacation this time of year but I know that the first Monday will be weird, going to a different office.” 

“I think that’s natural,” Marlene pipes up despite not having any clue of that feeling herself since she decided to go straight into a Ph.D. program as soon as she finished her master’s.

Remus smiles a little, “Probably.”

“Will you miss it?” Dorcas asks.

“Can’t be sure yet - terrible answer, I know. I just… I will miss Poppy and Pete probably. I've gotten to know James a bit better since but I never really worked closely with him and I’ll see him all the time when I visit Lily so… I won’t miss a whole lot.” 

The lie of omission has taken his tongue hostage.

“And you had some annoying coworkers, didn’t you?” Marlene grins and takes a swig from her wine glass. 

Remus laughs, “Yeah, I did.”

“What was that one guy’s name? The one he kept complaining about?” Dorcas asks Marlene who bursts out in laughter.

“Sirius!”

“Oh, right! Sirius - that’s the one! Sure you won’t miss him?” Dorcas laughs and the sarcasm is clear in her voice. 

Remus smiles and runs his fingers over the stem of the wine glass.

He will miss Sirius, that’s the thing. 

He will miss him and he didn’t even know that he would before it was all too late. It is a very cruel turn of events that would take Remus from being stuck in a rut to trying to get out of it and just when he starts to succeed in doing so he ends up somewhere complicated and sticky by new fresh feelings that won’t ever have the chance to grow into something.

“I slept with him, actually.”

Dorcas’ and Marlene’s faces are wearing twinning expressions, “What?” they exclaim simultaneously.

So that leads Remus to relay the whole truth and nothing but the truth for the two lesbians that sit across from him, with many interruptions and one query to see a picture of the man in question, something Remus hadn’t been able to conjure despite Sirius’ very unique name that should have offered him something after a Google search, but no. 

Marlene asks more and more in-depth questions that go so far as to Remus’ ears turning red and Dorcas chastising her for trying to spoil his integrity, not that he felt like there was anything left to spoil in that regard, but still. 

And it’s not like Remus is a prude in any way, he had gossiped about his past and current excursions with friends before. It’s just… this feels different. Like if Remus spoke it into existence he would have to be okay with the consequences, like opening a floodgate. He would not be able to stop thinking about it, and he had spent a great deal of his energy in the past five weeks trying not to think about it.

The darkness had started to set in on the overgrown garden and the only sounds that could be heard were from buzzing bugs and the calm waves of the ocean when the silence stretched over the table.

“I can’t believe you fucked your coworker,” Dorcas says for maybe the third time. “I wouldn’t have guessed that was your style really.”

Remus nods slowly in agreement before she continues softly, “How do you feel about it?” 

He ponders the question for a moment. It should be a complicated question but it isn’t - it is so very simple.

“I have feelings for him.”

Dorcas just smiles sadly and the knot in Remus' throat that he has tried to ignore since he left Sirius’ room that early morning so many weeks ago seems impossible now. If he says anything else he is afraid he will start crying, he doesn’t need that right now though so he keeps his mouth shut.

It has gotten colder this late into the evening and Marlene yawns as she stretches when they have stood up from their chairs. They bring the dishes inside and make a plan to go out to one of the smaller cliffs that Marlene has spotted to be a nice one for rock climbing, the weather is supposed to be nice.

When Remus gets ready for bed that night he cracks the window open just a smidge, just a crack that allows the sound and smell of the ocean to waft into his bedroom. 

He thinks of Sirius.

How he has been back from the sales trip for a few weeks now, how the office must have gotten used to his loud laughter and the sight of his leather jacket hanging on his chair even though the weather is far too warm for one at this time of year. 

Maybe he is also on vacation.

What does Sirius Black do on his vacations? Does he take trips to visit friends in other parts of the country? 

Remus knows he isn’t in contact with his parents anymore so that eliminates that suggestion. Maybe he has dinner at James and Lily’s house, sitting on the same chair that Remus usually sits on during his visits. 

He might be lying on a beach somewhere, Remus tries not to think about what that pale tattooed skin would look like against the black volcanic beaches of Tenerife, only dressed in swimwear and large amounts of SPF. 

Remus falls asleep to the sound of the ocean and with an ache in his chest.

The next few days transpire as follows:

Remus wakes up in the morning having slept like a child on the guest bed in the small room. He drinks coffee and eats his breakfast outside with Dorcas and Marlene, reading the local paper. They pack up their things and take turns doing the dishes. 

Then they go out to the cliffs and climb until Remus' shirt sticks to his back in the heat and he takes it off to Dorcas’ joking wolf-whistle. They climb until the calluses on their hands have toughened up and each conquest feels like a given. Then they go home and shower, decide what to cook for dinner, and if today is the day for Marlene to mix some strong gin and tonics with cucumbers and fresh herbs from the garden.

Some days Remus lays in the hammock and reads one of the beaten-up copies of Harlequin novels that Marlene’s mother has left at the house. He thinks about love as he rocks in the hammock and doesn’t come to any sound conclusion other than the ache in his chest and the memory of red wine on flushed lips and soft skin underneath his palms. Of agreeing on literature and a dry shameless sense of humor and caring enough to make another’s job easier. 

Dorcas and him do the crossword tandem-style, each with a mechanical pencil in hand and their heads pressed together. Marlene takes a picture of that, she takes pictures of everything.

Remus feels part of something, similar to the glimpses of belonging he has felt around the kitchen table with Lily and James. He feels part of a love story that is happening in front of him and maybe that makes him think about love even more than the Harlequin novels and the memory of Anna Karenina and Count Vronsky. 

Or even Maurice. 

*

Week 4

It would be a stretch to describe Remus Lupin as attractive, at least according to himself, and that guy on the pier last summer who drew caricature portraits of unsuspecting tourists. He stands looking at his reflection in the mirror in his bathroom one morning after his regular swim trying to calm the nerves in his chest for being only a few days away from starting his new job.

The man who stares back at him through the mirror looks, however, different from the man that he has seen in the last few months. His scarred skin has deepened slightly to a nice and even suntanned color, and freckles have started to sprout all over his shoulders thanks to the shirtless climbing and the yardwork at his parents' house. Remus’ hair may be gray speckled but the sun has also lightened it to a soft golden brown and he is in desperate need of a haircut the way that it curls behind his ears. His stubble has grown from being left unshaven too many days at the cliff-side house.

The chronic bags under his eyes are gone.

In the mirror stands a man, just a man. Not too remarkable but also maybe not ugly. The scar over the large nose is still there, but maybe that nose just fits his face. 

It is not like all of his insecurities have disappeared but since he has managed to do so many things he previously thought were impossible, he stands a bit taller because of it. Remus is starting a new job and heading into a new career. He managed to have four weeks of vacation all by himself, without Ben or even Lily to rush to his aid. Just him and his newfound ability to spend time the way he wants to - with books and wine and long conversations.

And today he woke up and decided that this particular day was not going to be one spent antagonizing over his aching heart and missing a man he only held just once - Remus has decided to look on the bright side of things. That he managed to sleep with a beautiful man, make him come, and then leave the interaction before tainting it with his overbearing feelings. 

He may not be gorgeous, but he fucked someone gorgeous - and that has to count for something.

Remus feels invigorated as he calls the number of the hairstylist Dorcas recommended and books an appointment later that same week. And since he managed to accomplish even that he also calls his dentist to book his yearly dental appointment, all within the same breath.

Then he sets on to clean out his closet, just to make sure that the clothes inside are still clothes that he wants to wear to work and that he donates all that are not fit for the rotation. In the middle of collared shirts and the odd winter coat hangs his favorite suit.

He momentarily cringes at the fact that he owns a suit that he would consider to be a favorite. But it's hard to ignore as the suit is a beautiful soft shade of green and in linen. He holds it out in front of him. To be considered a favorite suit it hasn’t been worn much, too little in fact. But if Remus remembers correctly, which he does after checking the invitation hung by magnets on his fridge, James and Lily’s engagement party calls for ‘garden party formal’ and by looking at his green suit he thinks he doesn’t have to worry anymore about what he’ll wear.

Remus hangs it up by his coat rack to remember to take it to the dry cleaners tomorrow. The fact that Sirius will surely be at that engagement party doesn’t even cross his mind. At least, that is what Remus tells himself. 

When Remus heads to the hairdresser later that week he is pleasantly surprised to find out that they offer complimentary coffee and head massages with every appointment. When he looks at himself with that ridiculous cape attached around his neck and Amanda stands behind him with her hands on his shoulders he decides to continue with the new and improved version of himself that he has decided upon just that week.

“So, what are we doing today, love?” Amanda asks as she brushes her hands through his hair, her acrylic nails scraping against his scalp pleasantly.

“My friend suggested I visit you because she says I don’t take care of my hair properly. That I need to take care of my curls and put an effort in,” Remus responds and laughs self-deprecatingly.

Amanda purses her glossed lips and nods, “Of course, darling. Do we want to keep the length or do we want to go short?”

“Keep some length, I think. Just trim up the sides a bit.”

Remus looks at himself in the mirror and concludes that this is good for him, that he isn’t pretentious or trying to be someone he isn’t by getting a proper haircut from a professional who actually cares. Amanda nods and arms herself with scissors and a comb.

When his hair is dry and Amanda has managed to sell him a small tin of curl cream Remus walks out of the appointment and feels pretty good about himself. His hair is bleached slightly by the sun and it’s no longer frizzy thanks to the cream in his tote bag. 

It might not fix everything. There is still that chronic pain of loneliness that seemingly only one person can fix.

But right now? 

As he walks with slightly straightened shoulders. Right now it feels like everything will be fine.

Chapter Text

Remus knew that he wouldn’t be the only newcomer at AP&W to arrive that Monday in mid-August. Frank mentioned during his interview that ten fresh-faced graduates would also start at the department of Risk Advisory at the same time. 

They wouldn’t start in the same position as the younglings would begin their junior consultancy path and Remus starts into a more senior role.

It’s the nature of these types of firms, Frank had explained, that most employees start right after graduation and then move up the ladder on a pretty straightforward path. The ones that stay those first grueling years at least.

Nonetheless, Remus still has his onboarding week with the ten twenty-four-year-olds right out of masters programs all over the country. He feels a bit like a grown-up who has snuck into a kindergarten class before he realizes that he actually shares a few things in common with them.

“-and I like to cook and read in my spare time,” Melissa with the large loose curls says beside him as they’re doing that horrible ‘go around the circle and introduce yourself and what you like to do outside of work’ business. They sit in a conference room similar to the one Remus had his interview in - all large windows and bright skies outside. Frank is standing at the head of the table with a presentation on the large screen TV behind him that just reads “Introduce yourselves”.

“My name is Remus, I also like to read in my spare time,” he says when the turn has gone to him and Melissa looks at him and smiles so large deep dimples appear on her cheeks. 

When they sit down for lunch she chooses the chair opposite his and begins a long conversation about the merits of European classics over American ones. They may all be young, Melissa and Jacob and Kelly and the rest of them. But at least they’re nice.

“So, Remus,” Frank asks him as they stand around the coffee cart the nice middle-aged lady from the cafe downstairs has brought to them, right into the conference room. “How does it feel? I know you’re getting to hang with the kids, maybe I shouldn’t call them that - oh well anyways - these first few days. It’s just some onboarding stuff that needs to be taken care of.”

“Oh, it’s all fine, they’re good. Higher energy compared to most of my former coworkers at least,” Remus jests and looks over to the flock of twenty-somethings that are animatedly talking about their summer vacations and where they graduated from.

“Good, they’ll be gone for some training next week so then you’ll come to shadow me. Unlike the auditing team, we have most of what we would consider high season in the fall - October, November - so far it’s a lot of planning so I think it’d be good for you to come see the processes.”

“Great,” Remus smiles, and he feels like he is telling the truth. 

When Remus goes home that evening he is tired, not really from a high workload but just from talking and interacting with new people and listening to onboarding presentations, and trying to log in to all the systems he needs. 

It’s a strange sensation, to go from the nervous buzz of starting a new job and still be so incredibly happy for it - even if that happiness just stems from the overall pleasant people, the bright office spaces, and a proper lunch room. To move from that headspace into what he is faced with when he comes home feels like a rollercoaster in his own head. Real high highs to that sinking feeling at the soft part of your chest as it plummets so deep you’re wondering if you’ll ever get up. 

And his apartment is so empty.

It’s awful. It never even used to feel this bad before, he was content with coming home by himself. Sure, it wasn’t perfect and it could get a little stale at times but overall there were no real issues. That specific brand of loneliness is nothing like this one. Now he knows what is missing. And it’s eating him from the inside. 

In his weaker moments, Remus had thought about contacting Sirius. He could ask Lily who could ask James for his number. But then he had to sit with what that conversation would look like, which is too awkward to even think about. What would he even say?

“Yeah, hi Sirius. I just thought, since we fucked at a work conference at the beginning of summer - would you like to go out? Or stay in? I can cook for you. Where did I get your number? Oh, I just asked my best friend who asked her fiance who is your best friend, to see how that all works out. Not at all weird!”

Even though it never sounded like a good idea, it sounds even worse the more time that passed between that fateful night and now. 

Remus would get over it eventually - these things just take time sometimes. He only had that engagement party on Friday to worry about and then he wouldn’t have to see Sirius before James and Lily’s wedding and by that time he might have even scored himself a somewhat serious boyfriend. 

God, he’s so pathetic.

*

“So what are you up to this weekend?” Melissa asks as they take their afternoon coffee break by the small canteen up on their floor. Every floor has at least one to accommodate the roughly thousand employees, then there is the large lunch room that looks more like a super modern dining hall on the floor below them. To summarize, plenty of coffee machines and vending machines to go around - and fruit baskets that are refilled every second day!

Remus watches as Melissa tucks a perfectly blow-dried wisp of hair behind her ear with her French manicured finger, “My friend got engaged a few weeks ago and her fiancé's parents are throwing them an engagement party tonight. That’s pretty much my plan for the weekend,” he smiles, eyes tired from close to thirty hours worth of corporate training videos. 

He gets why he has to do it - policy and whatnot. But watching an educational video about the dangers of insider trading on a Friday afternoon is not his idea of a good time.

“Wow, that sounds fun,” Melissa says, eyes wide. Her eyebrows are as perfectly manicured as her nails.

“I think so - I hope so.”

When Remus gets home he takes a long shower, it soothes the slight ache in his neck that he received from blankly staring at his screen every day for the last week. Had he been properly working he would have at least moved his head around a little to keep this from happening. 

When he gets out, the mirror is all fogged up. 

The suit hangs, still in its carrier from the dry cleaners, that soft green color peeking out when he unzips it. The white shirt hangs on its hanger beside it. 

Remus dresses. Looks at himself in the mirror as he squeezes his curls with a small dollop of that curl cream, and fidgets with them a bit.

Manages not to think about it. 

It’s going great.

Not thinking about it.

*

To get to James’ parents' house he either has to drive or take a bus and then switch to another bus, an all-right commute on the way there but Remus had already planned to order a taxi on the way back, treating himself a little. 

The house is in the suburbs, one of those neighborhoods that he might drive through with his parents around Christmas time to look at all the pretty lights that the rich families put out. It has a paved path all up to the front door, a two-car garage at the side with vehicles already parked in front of it, nicely cut shrubs and lanterns hanging by the front porch even though the sun hasn’t set yet.

The house is huge. White wood paneling and the lights are on in the window and Remus can hear the faint sounds of voices coming from the garden at the back of the house.

He rings the doorbell and hugs his gift close to his chest. It’s the same bottle of sparkling wine that was served at the Christmas party where James and Lily met - it’s not a high-end bottle, but they asked specifically for no gifts and Remus knows that Lily is more sentimental than she lets on. 

A woman opens the door dressed in a modest but colorful cocktail dress, she’s short with black hair in a braided bun at the base of her neck and with beautiful brown eyes.

She smiles, “You must be Remus,” she says and tugs him down for a cheek kiss like rich people and southern Europeans do to greet each other. “My name is Effie, James’ mother. Come in!”

She ushers him inside and Remus places his gift on a side table filled with other non-gifts. 

The foyer is large and inviting with a set of stairs that lead to the second story and a corridor that leads to the living room and out to the backyard. Effie waves down a catering waiter as they walk.

“Everybody is having drinks and hôrs devours outside, come,” she tells him and then turns to the waiter as they walk, “Make sure you get more of those little tarts with the cheese, everyone loves them.”

The backyard shouldn’t surprise Remus, having seen the front and all, but it does. It’s huge. 

It’s all lanterns hanging from the roof over the patio to the fruit trees and small tables scattered everywhere and wonderful flower beds that are in full bloom next to fragrant herbs. 

There is music coming from somewhere and beautiful linen-dressed waiters dancing around guests wearing light-coloured suits and flowy dresses. There had to be over fifty people there, and the backyard didn’t even feel crowded. 

Lily and James stand talking to an older couple with similar black hair and bronze skin that James and his mother have. Lily looks like a dream in a light blue summer dress that compliments her freckled skin and fiery hair, James wears a cream suit and a face-covering grin. 

They sparkle brighter than the crystal champagne flutes and the large rock on Lily's finger combined.

They make eye contact and make themselves over to Remus who’s just had a glass of champagne shoved into his hands by Effie before she tinkered off. 

“Congratulations,” he says as he hugs James, receiving an extra squeeze for that one. 

“You did good Evans, you did good,” he mostly jokes in Lily's ear when the two of them embrace.

“I know, have you seen this house?” Lily jokes back and hugs him tighter, Remus gets a little choked up about it. This is his best friend after all. 

“That’s what I was referring to,” he says when they remove themselves from the other's embrace but still stand with their hands on each other. 

Lily’s eyes are lined with tears and she is smiling so big they threaten to fall. Remus can’t help but laugh at her, feeling his voice close to cracking. Then they’re just standing there like idiots, smiling and trying not to cry. 

James just looks on at Lily's side with an enamored grin. 

In between Lily and James’ shoulders, Remus can spot a figure in between mingling guests, on the other side of the yard, he is talking to someone, a tall man with a copy of James’ grin and stature. 

Sirius is in another one of his blouse-looking shirts, this time a bit sheer and night sky blue with darker blue embroidered flowers, is billowy tucked into light-coloured flowy pants and his hair is tied in a loose knot at the base of his neck. 

He looks effortless. 

He looks heartbreaking.

Seven weeks. 

Not that Remus is counting or anything. But it is seven weeks ago to the day since the conversation on the patio and the heated kisses pressed up against the door. Seven weeks ago Remus got to witness the earth-shattering view of Sirius mid-bliss and writhing, pleading underneath him. 

More than seven weeks since he could glimpse him almost every day from his desk. 

The constant ache in his chest opens up to a chasm, a sinkhole that drags his heart inside and tugs at his soul. It’s a black hole and devastation - to be so absolutely gone for someone you only know on the surface and can never know the way you want. 

It sucks the oxygen out of the air and the chlorophyll out of the blooming flowers and fragrant herbs. Draining the whole yard until nothing keeps its color, everything in grayscale. The only thing still shining is no longer Lily’s diamond or the crystal champagne flutes. 

It’s just Sirius.

Seven weeks and Remus hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Has tried and tried and tried but failed so massively. 

Almost like he knows someone is looking at him, Sirius glances around, over the crowds. 

Remus looks away, and redirects his own eyes before they risk meeting gazes. Only a second has passed, and neither Lily nor James has really noticed where he went the last blasted second, where his eyes and mind had traveled. 

Remus plasters a smile on his face, “Congratulations you two - again. I’m going to find one of those tarts with the cheese your mother mentioned, James.” He sounds like a madman with his fake smile and rambling but he just turns on his heel and heads in the direction of a waiter, refusing to look back even to hear the couple's response.

Remus shouldn’t be surprised the tarts are delicious as he stands there with his mouthful nodding at something Lily’s mother is saying. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the garden was huge and the house was so lovely.

He shouldn’t have been surprised Sirius was here because he knew he would be. It’s James’ oldest and best friend, of course, he would have been here. 

But it still managed to knock him on his ass, completely ruin his lovely suit with grass stains and dirt, and his dignity and ego is knocked out of him by the sight of a straight nose and full lips, black eyelashes casting shadows over high cheekbones. 

He feels the pull, knowing exactly where Sirius is at all times throughout the evening, like the large celestial body he is named after pulling him into orbit.

But Remus refuses to heed the call, he turns his head to ask Lily’s father about how his business has been doing, and if they are still operating out of the same building next to the diner by the main road. He hears the all-too-familiar laughter pierce the sounds of guests talking and cheering.

When Effie and Monty clink their glasses to get everyone’s attention, Remus just looks straight at the hosts and ignores the burning feeling at the side of his temple that feels like laser piercing his skin. His back is straight for once and he keeps his chin high, hand casually holding a glass and ignoring.

Remus just drinks champagne instead. He smiles and cheers when Effie and Monty welcome Lily to the family officially and then he drinks. 

The thing with champagne, or any sparkling wine for that matter - Remus considers deep into conversation with one of James’ childhood friends who isn’t wearing an embroidered midnight blue shirt - is that it’ll get you that perfect mingling drunk.

Red wine will get you soothed and soft, fifty percent chance of aroused and shameless and, fifty percent chance of melancholy. Hard liquor will get you knocked on your back and regretting the day you were born if you’re not careful. 

But sparkling wine, that will get you talking and laughing and feeling at ease. 

And that’s the high Remus is chasing to try to wash out the feeling of eyes at his back and the gravitational pull of a wish he cannot dare to make. 

How is it possible for time to exist the way it does, to change the way it does?

Remus was apathetic to large parts of his life for over a year, he barely remembers any specific details about last autumn since the days blurred together so thoroughly. 

He remembers waking up and feeling gray and walking a path into his wooden floors and being annoyed at work and then letting out a breath once he could leave for the day. 

And every day was like that, breathing in before entering the office and only letting it out on the way home, clenching his fists and tightening his jaw just to get through explaining the reimbursement process for his incompetent coworker once again. Compartmentalizing his anger and his hurt into something hard and cold and chronically annoyed.

In one night it was all shattered.

Sure, there might have been a ramp-up to the destruction but there was still not enough of a warning. Remus got completely blindsided. Just one kiss and he was ruined for good, ribs cracked open and organs just spilling all over the wooden deck on the patio, brain leaking out of his ears as soon as their lips met and Sirius got his hands on him. 

Left for dead in a hotel bed at a conference. 

Whatever flesh prison Remus is now walking around in can’t be his actual body, he left it there, right beside Sirius smelling of clean sheets and dirty sex. Remus left it there because he couldn’t bear the thought of waking up and never ever having again, the sobering realization of dumb decisions marinated in red wine and hours-long conversations.

And then came the withdrawal.

Like heroin slowly dripping out of your system, leaving you anxious and scratchy and twitching and alone. With a large stabbing pain in your chest for weeks afterward, the only thing making it better is also making it worse and that is seeing Sirius’ face across the yard and once again realizing that maybe God does exist, and what a cruel creator he is. 

A long grueling year, a flash of a night, and seven weeks of scratching at that scab and waiting for it to heal over. 

It’s got pacing issues, because things can’t happen like that. If his life had been a novel, Remus would have added annotations in red pen in the margin. 

Not believable, it doesn’t happen like that.

So he drinks another glass of champagne and eats another tarte with cheese. The sun sets but the air is still warm and the sky is still light even this late into the night.

He stands around and pretends that all is fine and that he is happy and content and really wants to hear whatever anecdote the person in front of him starts telling. 

He is not drunk. But he’s consumed several glasses of sparkling wine and he feels the tension from his work week slowly release from his shoulders - the tension from being acutely aware of Sirius though, that persists despite the alcohol and mingling. 

The guests have slowly but surely started to trickle away, James and Lily walking in pairs and talking to everyone. Every now and then, Lily would come up to him to get a fresh hôrs devours from the plate left on the serving table beside him and toss him a cutting remark about one kooky old relative or another, it made Remus chuckle right before she’d go back to James’ side.

“Well, I think it’s time for us to head home, don’t you think so darling?” The man Remus had spent the last twenty minutes talking to says as he looks at his wife by his side. She nods.

“It was so nice to meet you Remus, have a good rest of your night,” she says as they walk inside.

“Thank you, and you too. Actually, I’ll go inside with you,” Remus says as he takes the couple leaving as his cue to head to the restroom.

The hall is dimmed with yellow lights and cream wall coloring, and the hallway that leads to the bathroom is covered in framed pictures of baby James with toothy grins on vacations and dressed in costumes for school plays. The bathroom is the last door to the right and the beautiful tiles are polished clean.

 Just one more hour.

He doesn’t want to leave, he wants to stay until the end of the night and hear Lily complain about how swollen her feet are in her shoes. 

But at this point, it feels impossible, like he can’t bear to be another minute in that garden with the last of the guests. The safety barrier between him and Sirius ever thinning until Remus is made to look at him and maybe keep conversation. 

Because Sirius will stay until the end of the night, maybe share a cigarette with Monty who swears he hasn’t smoked since the late eighties but will still miss the occasional drag.

And the potential of being part of that small group of people that are considered nearest and dearest without any armor is a suicide mission. 

Remus splashes a bit of water in his face, he can handle one more hour. 

Deep breath in - hold it - deep breath out. 

He unlocks the door.

There he is.

Just.

There, right in front of him. 

Sirius.

Every thought just immediately leaves Remus’ brain.

They are close to walking right into each other, like Sirius is on his way to reach for the door at the same time as Remus is heading out. Remus just stops abruptly, interrupted. 

“Hi!”

That’s the stupidest thing he could’ve said. Like that is even the correct way to address someone you have almost just collided with. Sirius just looks at him, with no emotion on his face, not even surprised that they almost ran into each other like that.

“Can I talk to you?” 

Sirius's voice is determined, and unwavering, just like his eyes and were Remus a better man he would have gotten nervous by that look, now he’s just nailed to the floor and mesmerized. 

Still a bit nervous though, it coils in his belly, soft and squirming.

“Sirius?”

“Can I talk to you? It’s important.”

When Remus just nods Sirius grabs him by the cuff and tugs him with him. They walk past all those baby photos and back to the entrance hall and up the stairs, down another hallway with doors to rooms and paintings and pictures in frames. 

At the end, Sirius opens a door and slinks inside, taking Remus with him, and then shuts the door behind them.

Remus looks around the room as Sirius turns on the light that sits on the desk. It’s not a huge room, but too personally decorated for it to be a guest room. There’s a bookshelf with books and frames and checkered sheets in the bed. On the pinboard above the desk that Sirius is leaning on hangs post-it notes and the odd sketched drawing.

“Is this your bedroom?” Remus asks as he glances at the slippers by the wardrobe. Sirius nods and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Besides that comment, he isn’t going to initiate any conversation so the silence falls as he tries to look interested in the details of the room just to avoid looking at Sirius’ face - or any other detrimental part of his person.

“I forgot you used to live here, with James - I know you told me, I just… forgot,” Remus trails off uselessly, having already broken his own promise of not initiating any conversation but the silence is stifling and he refuses to shuffle on his feet and the clock ticking on the nightstand threatens to make him into an anxious stressed out mess.

Sirius is chewing on his bottom lip, the skin coming out pinker and pinker as his teeth work on it, Remus tries not to look at it. 

“Why did you… What happened?”

Sirius looked like he had a plan when they almost collided outside the bathroom, determined like he had practiced what he was going to say when confronting Remus. Now he trails off and looks unsure.

And what is Remus supposed to answer? And what is the actual question? 

“What happened?”

“Yeah, you— you just quit? I came back from the trip and James told me you’d quit just the Friday before?”

“I quit two weeks earlier, I had two weeks left of work before going on vacation.”

“You know what I mean,” Sirius scowls. 

Remus does know what he means, but he has no idea what to say. He quit because he got a new job, and he got a new job because the last one wasn’t fulfilling - that’s it really. He has no idea why that would be something for Sirius to scowl over. It’s not like they were friends at work or that they even had many positive interactions previous to the work conference.

Why would the fact that he quit his job make Sirius scowl and cross his arms over his chest like he is doing right now? Dragging Remus into his bedroom for a serious talk.

Remus swallows, “I found a new job, I— I thought I was doing Poppy a favor to announce my departure before going on holiday…”. 

Sirius seems to consider what he is saying for a bit, still with crossed arms and casually leaning against the desk. A strand of hair has slipped out of the knot at the back of his head, it plays against his cheek. 

“So you just… left? Got your stuff and got out of there?” 

Remus feels his brows furrow in confusion and says, “Yes? Or, what was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know!” Sirius’ arms fall to his sides as he looks at Remus exasperated. “Just— you just disappeared!”

This doesn’t make any sense.

Remus opens his mouth to speak before closing it again, there is nothing to say about this. He doesn’t even know what Sirius is getting at. So he says just that.

“I don’t know where you're getting at, Sirius. I got a new job, I had two weeks left before my annual leave. Those two weeks ended up coinciding with your trip. I’m sorry about that.”

Sirius looks away from him and out of the now-dark window where the lights from the ongoing party downstairs can be seen. 

“And what about that morning? The morning after… y'know… You just left then too.” 

Blood is rushing to Remus’ head and if he looked in the mirror now he is sure his neck would be flushed up to his earlobes. 

Why is Sirius talking about this? 

Why is he even bringing it up? 

Remus has done all the work to bury this where it belongs, so he can lick his reopened wounds in peace. Now Sirius is here to poke in the tear in his flesh with dirty prodding fingers. 

“I— I tried to make it easier for both of us, so it wouldn’t be weird in the morning when we woke up…” Remus huffs a big breath and runs his hand through his hair before continuing, “This wasn’t supposed to be a big thing… I thought— it would make things complicated if I stayed.”

Sirius is quiet. The silence wraps itself like a blanket around the bedroom, around the two men standing in front of each other in the dimmed room. Sirius crosses his arms in front of his chest once again, and hitches up his shoulders in a gesture that looks like he’s trying to protect himself.

Remus feels the prickling in his fingertips, he recognizes the feeling as wanting to touch him - to do something to remove that expression in his face, that expression that looks odd and beaten down. Remus can’t for the life of him figure out why it’s there.

“So that’s why you left? You figured out I have feelings for you and wanted to spare me the rejection?” 

 “No, it had nothing to do— what?”

To say the world stopped would have been an exaggeration and cheesy as all hell. To say that Remus’ heart skips a beat would just be corny. But it is something like that, something world-altering and big that makes his stomach swoop, like when a rollercoaster drops for the first time.

It’s a sick cruel joke. It has to be. 

Because Sirius cannot be standing in front of him and declaring that he has feelings for him. Remus can’t have heard him right.

Sirius’ voice was stern when he said it, determined and definitely not joking around. Then Remus asks him to repeat himself and he suddenly looks troubled.

A series of emotions flicks over his face. It starts with that stern look, then it moves to be beaten down, then Sirius looks at Remus with wide eyes in question before turning eyes away again with flushing cheeks. It’s hypnotizing. Remus could have watched it all over and over in slow motion.

Sirius swallows, “Is that why you left? To let me down gently?”

“Let you down gently?”

It’s quiet, inside Remus’s head, the only thing he can do is just repeat what Sirius is saying.

“I presume based on your question that you– well, this is awkward. I assume you weren’t aware that I have feelings for you.”

Remus shakes his head before finding his voice, when he does it's quiet and disbelieving, “No.” He keeps shaking his head. “How? Why?” 

Sirius' cheeks are still an angry shade of red, very noticeable against his otherwise pale skin. “What do you mean how?”

“How can you have feelings for me?” The self-doubt has started to creep into Remus’ voice and this would be much less vulnerable if it didn’t. “I mean– I was a dick to you… We never had any positive interactions before… Well– before…” 

His voice fails him, luckily Sirius is there to pick it right back up - quick to defend him even to himself.

“You weren’t a dick, not the way I saw it,” Sirius shakes his head, more confident now than a minute before, “Sure, you were grumpy and made it clear that you didn’t want to deal with my bullshit- I wouldn’t have dealt with my bullshit either,” Sirius says and smiles through his embarrassment a little crookedly.

“I couldn’t help myself not to fuck-up the reimbursement requests again and again or ask dumb questions just for the hell of it. I thought it was so— so obvious. How could you not think there was something going on? Did you really think I was that stupid as to not understand that fairly simple process?”

Remus stands dumbfounded. The fact that Sirius repeatedly tried to get his attention by giving him excuses to see him felt strange, and unbelievable. 

Remus did think Sirius was that incompetent, even when he started realizing that he couldn’t be based on his law degree and his sales numbers, and his empathy. Remus still blindly believed that the only reason for Sirius seeking him out every time had to do with his inability to perform a task.

His head is spinning, the flooring underneath his feet is unsteady and his knees threaten to give out.

“I never thought you were stupid. It’s just… I never thought there’d be any other explanation for you… seeking me out or whatever.”

“How could you not?” 

Remus scoffs, “Well look at me! And then take a look in that mirror over there and tell me why it sounds so unbelievable that I had no other reason to think you’d fuck up that simple process by not understanding how it worked.

Sirius’ face loses its embarrassed expression, now he looks confused - almost angry, “What do you mean look at you? Remus, you’re gorgeous.”

Remus says nothing as Sirius gives him a challenging stare.

“When I first met you - when Poppy showed me around and introduced me to everyone, remember? That was the only thing I remember from that day basically, how fucking beautiful you were, and sexy.”

Remus wants to denounce it, saying Sirius must mistake him for someone else who sat in that corner of the finance and accounting department of Horace’s Home & Business Services. But he doesn’t say that, he doesn’t voice any of his self-consciousness.

So Sirius continues, “And then I got to know you, or at least got to know you from afar, and you’re so smart! And competent! And then I see you helping Alice with something or the other, and then you’re patient and kind and Poppy can’t go a minute without singing your praises. I mean–,” he takes a steadying breath, “What’s not to like?” 

Remus can’t answer that, he doesn’t have the correct words for it.

Instead, he says, “The reason I left when you were sleeping was because I had feelings for you too– Or you know… I have feelings for you.” Remus can feel the back of his neck burning, his heart is beating like the wings of a bird in his chest and he feels like he can run a mile without stopping. Sirius was vulnerable - is vulnerable. And Remus is gonna make sure Sirius isn’t let out in the cold on his lonesome, that he is feeling this too. This exposed mess of a bleeding heart fucking everything up.

“I never would have imagined that you felt similarly– Or I… I just thought it would be weird the morning after, when you wanted something more casual, and I… I felt something different. So I left.”

Sirius looks like he is holding back the urge to cross his arms over his chest again, “That's why you ignored me the entire night tonight too?” 

Remus feels shame wash over him, but Sirius deserves the truth, “Yes.”

It’s quiet again. And the cogs keep turning in his mind, slowly working out that all of those things he did; leaving and ignoring and refusing, they might have been the wrong decisions. Maybe, just maybe, he might have gotten all of this completely wrong. 

Sirius sighs and closes his eyes, “You can’t do that, Remus. You can’t just go around and assume how people feel about you and make decisions based on that assumption. You have to hear them out, or at least include them in your decision-making process.” 

Sirius is so pretty right now, standing in front of him with his eyes closed.

“I was anxious too you know,” Sirius continues, “I was unsure and terrified and then we spent that night together… And god, I was so excited to wake up next to you. When I did you were just gone– you weren’t even at breakfast. And I had to go on that sales trip and I wanted to ask James for your number and call you up right away but… By leaving when I was sleeping I thought you sent a pretty clear sign that you didn’t– That you didn’t feel the same way so I decided to confront you when I came back. And by then you were gone. And that hurt. I was really hurt.”

Remus sees it on his face. All that hurt he created. It makes Sirius’ eyes glint in the low light and it makes his stomach squirm. And Sirius lets himself be seen as hurt, he lets himself show vulnerability. A feature Remus struggles with. Who just wants to be out of people’s way, and keep his head down, and stay out of these raw conversations.

But not anymore.

Not with Sirius in front of him, bearing the soft underbelly of his own struggles. Sirius who laughs loudly and whose eyes gleam of joy and life and is standing there, telling him that he was hurt by Remus’ action. 

And Remus wants it all. He wants vulnerability. He wants to see those eyes shine again, he wants to kiss those lips. He wants to wake up and look over and see Sirius there.

Oh, how he wants. 

Heart clenching behind his ribs, “I’m sorry,” Remus says, feeling the heaviest weight of the apology in his chest. The silence echoes around them once again, the heaviness now doesn’t feel as stifling though, a bit sad maybe but no longer like hopeless despair. “I’m so sorry, Sirius, I never meant to hurt you. I was a dick to you and there are reasons for why I acted the way I acted. But you didn’t deserve that, my intention was never to hurt you.”

Something is squeezing inside his chest. It comes with the lingering hurt in Sirius’ face and the realization of fucking up. 

But if the last few months have taught Remus anything, it is that nothing automatically happens for your life to move in the direction you want.

He was close to drowning in it before, the hurt and the uselessness he felt. It wasn’t until that spark came about that things started shifting. Finding new friends and hobbies he enjoyed, releasing himself from a job that didn’t bring him that stimulus he required.

And finding love? Sure, that happened without his intention. 

But keeping it, nurturing it, making it blossom? That will require action, and intention. 

He looks over Sirius in front of him, a long lingering look that he hopes conveys what he is feeling, “Can I make it up to you somehow?” 

The voices from outside trickle inside the old bedroom.

And Sirius smiles, it starts out slowly but nonetheless beautiful and it's small and brittle but the vulnerability doesn’t seem so hurt anymore, it looks hopeful, like a snowdrop piercing the frozen earth in late February.

“You can take me out sometime. If you still want to, of course.”

His voice is quiet.

The choice Remus is being offered is one of the most simple varieties. 

“I still want to,” Remus says equally as quietly, of course, he wants to. He’d tear the world apart if Sirius asked him, “I– I have a decent bottle of red standing on my kitchen counter back home. I’d like to share it if you’re able.”

Sirius' smile widens slightly, “Right now?” 

And there is a sparkle behind his eyes that ignites. 

Remus’ heart pounds in his chest, blood coursing through his system like it had been at standstill for too long, “Yes.” 

“I’d love to.”

That leaves the two of them standing in front of each other once more, now just grinning. Like the last two months filled with hurt and ache and longing had been wiped away by Sirius’ smile. 

It should be declared a superpower; the way Sirius is able to just eliminate the anxiety and troubles Remus carries around constantly. Or at least make them seem so unimportant.

The grinning silence is interrupted by James’ loud laughter that sounds from the garden and is carried inside by the open window. 

“Should we get out of here?” Sirius asks.

“Yes,” Remus says and they head toward the door, “Get your coat and I’ll call a taxi.”

In romantic movies, the love interests always embrace in a passionate kiss after a conflict is resolved and any misunderstandings are cleared up. Not Remus Lupin and Sirius Black - they do an Irish goodbye at their best friends’ engagement party instead. 

They stand by the curb and wait for a taxi and grin at each other before flushing and glancing back at their shoes. They joke casually about the various guests they both met at the party before falling into silence again, not uncomfortable silence, just the silence that occurs when you try to keep yourself from exploding with emotion.

Remus and Sirius sit in the backseat of a taxi that drives them through dark suburbs and smiles quietly at each other when the street lights light up the car enough for them to make proper eye contact. They pretend not to notice that their fingers are inching toward the other’s in the middle seat. They don’t meet in a passionate kiss. They hold hands. 

When they have arrived outside Remus’ apartment building they walk close together up the steps to the main door and clasp hands on the stairs on the way up. Sirius stands close enough for Remus to smell vetiver and late summer evenings and possibilities on his skin as he unlocks the door with a slight unsteadiness to his hands. Sirius hangs his jacket on a hook, and leaves his shoes by Remus’.

The air is dense. It feels almost like a different apartment the way Sirius' presence there transforms the space. It’s warm.

“So, this is my place,” Remus says as he leads them into the kitchen where he gets the aforementioned bottle and two glasses.

“It’s lovely,” Sirius comments as he sits down at one of the high bar stools at the breakfast bar. He sits with his back toward the bar and his knees point straight at Remus who remains standing, handing him a glass of red. They lock eyes, and a light shine in Sirius’ that wasn’t there before. Something ignited, dangerous in the charged air between them. Remus wants to believe he put it there, he thinks he did. And that’s an intoxicating feeling.

They cheer, take a sip. 

Remus puts his glass down, eliminates the space between them, and makes his way in between Sirius’ thighs. Places a hand against a soft cheek and kisses him.

Kisses him for his past self that dreamed of this for two months. Kisses him for his past self that was so shell-shocked by a former breakup not to recognize what he had in front of him. Remus kisses Sirius and thanks god for getting a second chance to do so.

Sirius responds. 

Without breaking the kiss Sirius has managed to dispose of his own glass of wine and presses his hand on the back of Remus' neck to push him closer, the other hand gripping at his shirt. Deepens the kiss, and licks at Remus’ lips until he can get his tongue inside his mouth. 

It’s all fireworks inside his chest, sparklers and fireballs of glitter, and all things mesmerizing, ongoing, never faltering as they kiss, hard and with intention. 

Remus moans at the taste of him, heady and familiar and spiced with the taste of wine. His head doesn’t feel screwed on straight, it buzzes and zeroes in on the feeling of Sirius underneath his hands, his lips. He weaves his hand in the knot at the back of his head and tugs a little. His other hand travels down Sirius’ back, feeling him arch toward his chest, hips to hips.

Remus is hard.

Has been hard since Sirius hung his jacket on the hook and placed his shoes next to his own in the hallway. 

No one can blame him for it, not when Sirius is here and just as lovely as predicted. With his jacket on the hook and his shoes kicked off on the carpet. 

Sirius gasps into his mouth, ferocious and passionate and high-paced as they kiss like teenagers against the breakfast bar.

Sirius clings on to him, grinds against him where he is still sitting, he kisses down Remus’ neck, and starts tugging at his shirt buttons. Fumbling and clumsy but oh so desperate.

“Love, hold on,” Remus pants as Sirius palms him over the fabric that covers his straining cock. “There’s no rush… We have time.” 

“I’m actually—,” Sirius mumbles against his neck, voice rough around the edges, “I’m actually good at this… I was too– god– I was so gone for you last time that I, fuck, that I didn’t get to show you.” 

Remus just gets out a mumble in response, cut off by a moan as Sirius bites down on his neck. You were perfect, he wanted to say, I have been thinking about it, about you, for weeks. Longer.

Sirius regains some clarity and works the buttons open on Remus’ shirt, he caresses the newly exposed skin of his chest with soft and eager hands and Remus shakes both the soft green blazer and the shirt of his shoulders as Sirius slips off the bar stool and onto the floor.

On his knees.

He looks up, light gray eyes overcome with dark pupils and kiss-stung lips and flushed cheeks. His hair is a mess with strands falling in his face and he looks divine. 

Remus struggles to pull himself together as Sirius unhooks his belt and drags his zipper down, the pull of the teeth echoes like a warning in the otherwise silent apartment. Sirius wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, pink and wet, and Remus can’t seem to see anything other than that mouth, those lips. His head is swimming, there is no way this is happening. Sirius on his knees in front of him, in his own kitchen.

Sirius licks the head of his cock once and Remus wants to close his eyes, or scream. Wants to run out of the room and also fuck his face. It’s overwhelming.

And then Sirius looks up and takes Remus fully in his mouth.

Hot and wet and sinful and divine. 

It’s just pleasure through and through.

Black hair in between Remus’ fingers as he strokes his thumb over the hollowed-out cheek just to feel himself through the skin. 

Sirius swallows him down and Remus moans. He can barely hear it over the static in his ears, over the heat that threatens in his belly, and the ache in his jaw from biting down.

Sirius sucks him off deep and eagerly, like he has wanted to do this for ages, like heaven can be found with Remus' cock deep enough down his throat - swallowing around the tip. Tight and excruciating.

Remus feels his hand being guided to the back of Sirius’ head by slim fingers. He feels his hand being encouraged to go further, and press himself deeper, so he does. Fucks Sirius' mouth, his throat. And he wants to weep at the sensation of it all.

Sirius moans around him, opens his eyes and there are tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. And that view is detrimental.

“God– f–fuck, Sirius,” Remus works out around a groan, “We have to–to stop or– I don’t want to come just yet.” 

He tugs Sirius' hair back. He sits back on his heels with glossed-over eyes licking spit and precome off his bottom lip. There is no chance in hell that this is all real, that this is all for Remus.

“Get up.”

Sirius obeys and Remus kisses him for that, for listening, and to taste himself on his tongue. To convince himself that this is real.

Sirius' shirt joins Remus’ on the floor and they kiss their way into Remus’ bedroom. 

The lights are dim when Sirius pushes him onto the bed and forbids him from helping him take off his pants. Not that Remus would be capable of anything productive right now, not with Sirius getting naked in front of him. 

Scorpions and sharp hip bones and strong slender thighs. And eyes that glisten with desire and a carefree smile. It’s Remus’ undoing.

Sirius climbs on top of him and if anyone were to ask Remus what the picture that hangs on the opposite wall represents, he wouldn’t be able to answer. Not when the whole world has gone blurry but Sirius on top of him, naked and incredible.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Remus gets out before they meet in a searing kiss again. Sirius huffs a laugh against his lips, like it’s funny that Remus finds him absolutely breathtaking.

Someone gets lube from the bedside table and Remus manages to work his arm in between them, his fingers against him, stroking the tip of one against Sirius’ entrance. 

Remus works his fingers inside him, stretches and strokes - and warms him up as they moan against each other’s mouth. Sirius from Remus’ fingers, Remus from the tightness around them. 

He keeps one hand on Sirius’ hip, just to keep him in place as he rides his fingers. His hard cock jutting out in between them, aching from the lack of stimulus.

He strokes his unoccupied hand against Sirius' arched back, feels the muscle move under his fingers. Sirius squirms on top of him.

“Now– fuck me now.”

Sirius is impatient. Needy. 

And Remus revels in the fact.

“Be patient,” he hums, the calm in his voice a full lie. Remus himself is about to crawl out of his own skin.

Then Sirius shifts after another stroke against the spot within by Remus' fingers. The action makes Remus unable to reach them as Sirius decides that he has had enough. Like he is in charge now, he has had enough of Remus’ questioning decision-making skills and has decided to take the matter into his own hands.

So he rearranges himself, lines up against Remus’ cock, and sinks down.

Tightness and hot breath that is punched out of him and the unmistakable feeling of intimacy that can only be felt by being as close as humanly possible. And pleasure - like forest fire overtaking him. 

Sirius rides him like he is not meant to be doing anything else, agile hips moving on top of him and supported by clawing hands in his chest. Full blush on his high cheekbones and face looking absolutely debauched. 

“God, look at you,” Remus says, mesmerized and fucked dumb by the man on top of him. Those hip bones are sharp, he knows that now by helping them move, helping them rise and fall until they are both ready to meet their end. “You take me so well.”

“Remus–” Sirius whines.

That’s all it takes and it is too bad that it will end so quickly, but Remus blames two months and more than a year and a whole life without Sirius for it.

He grips those hips in his hands hard enough to bruise and he uses his feet on the bed as leverage to thrust upwards as Sirius grinds down, open-mouthed with his head thrown back. It’s deep and relentless and hard.

“Baby,” he gets out wrapping a hand around Sirius’ jutting cock, getting him to fuck Remus’ fist in time with sinking down on top of him.

Remus had replayed their first night together enough times to recognize the signs. The stuttering movements, the gasp and whine falling like pearls from Sirius’ parted lips. His furrowed brow.

When Sirius comes it’s with Remus' name on his tongue and he is a vision for where Remus is lying. Chest heaving, eyes rolling back in his head, mouth open and kissed sore. 

And it takes only one two three strokes before Remus is coming too - deep inside and back arched of the bed, hands gripping.

It’s hard - coming down from heaven. It was hard all those weeks ago when Remus believed it was the first and only time he would visit. Then it ached hollow inside him like someone had taken out all of his organs and left his chest cavity gaping and empty.

Now it’s better. 

It’s better because he knows that Sirius won’t leave, that he himself won’t feel the need to sneak out in the middle of the night. It feels better with Sirius lying on top of him, trying to come down from the high himself, smiling at Remus through catching breaths. 

And they’re both dirty. Nasty. Sex-stained. 

So they shower together, standing underneath the spray where Remus touched himself to the thought of this a few weeks ago. Remus gets to wrap Sirius in a fluffy towel and they air out the bedroom and lay down underneath the sheets, the scent of late summer air wafting into the bedroom.

Sirius on top of Remus’ chest, one hand slowly stroking over his torso. Remus hands carding through black tests of drying hair. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Remus is the one to break the silence. Sirius twists his head so he can lay a pointy chin down on his chest so they are able to make eye contact. He smiles.

“It didn’t ‘just happen’.”

“I know, I just… I don’t know.”

“No, tell me.”

Remus shrugs where he lies, he doesn’t know how to finish that statement, not without puncturing this beautiful summer-scenting moment they have created with his history of pragmatism that leans more toward pessimism than anything else.

So instead he goes a different route, one that has had him so curious since the start, “What’s your favorite color?” He asks innocently.

Sirius laughs, eyes incredulous, “It’s black, why?”

 “Really? Thought it be something else, your wardrobe’s all bright colors and patterns.”

Sirius shrugs, still with his shin supported by Remus’ chest. Still with that questioning gaze so Remus continues, “I don’t know. I feel like we had this intense talk and then great sex and we haven’t really had a date or anything. I’m trying to get to know you, the way you would on a date.”

“By asking for my favorite color? No wonder your dates go so terribly.”

“Oh ha-ha, very funny.”

Sirius laughs and Remus feels the vibrations through his sternum, shaking all the way inside to coat his heart and set his inside ablaze. 

“Why black?” He asks when Sirius settles again.

“I don’t know, it goes with everything - feel like I can’t have a different favorite based on my last name. I was kind of emo in my youth.”

“Are there pictures? I need to see pictures of this”.

Sirius laughs again, “I’ll dig some up for you.”

Remus smiles back at him, content, warm, “Your turn.”

Sirius raises his eyebrows, “To ask a cheesy first date question?” he asks and ponders for a second after Remus nods, “What did you do over your break?”

“I was home for a bit, went to my parents and painted a shed, went to the coast with some friends. Read too much probably,” Remus says on the tail end of a small, affectionate laugh.

“You spent time outside in the sun? You look all tan and lovely,” Sirius asks as he runs soft fingers through Remus’ hair. He tries to stifle an obvious shiver, still incredulous that Sirius would find him lovely. He nods.

“What did you do these last few weeks?”

“Worked mostly, not a lot since most clients have vacation time as well. I hung out with my brother some.”

Remus hums before Sirius continues, “Do you promise to stay this time? And not sneak away in the middle of the night?”

“That’s not a cheesy first date question,” Remus chastises with a grin. But Sirius sounds vulnerable behind that mask of casualty that he drapes around him and Remus’ heart tugs slightly in his chest.

“I promise.” Remus has never been so sure, there is nowhere he’d rather be. “And it’s not like I have anywhere else to go, you’re in my house remember.” He smiles at Sirius’ worried eyes.

Sirius smacks his chest lightly with a grin before laying back down on Remus’ chest. The silence wraps around them like the way Remus’ arms are wrapped around Sirius. Warm and comfortable.

“Do you promise to give this a proper chance?” Sirius' voice is almost quiet enough to not break the silence. 

Remus squeezes Sirius in his arms, elated that he can do that now. 

“I promise.”

Sirius is still fully wrapped in Remus’ arms, right where he belongs.

“Do you want to go out for breakfast tomorrow?” Remus asks and he knows by Sirius’ smile that he understands exactly the purpose of the question. As a date, does not need to be said. With me, please, is not mentioned, it’s not needed. 

“I’d love to.” 

There is a shared look between them, a moment of stillness in an otherwise emotional rollercoaster of an evening, before Sirius places his palm softly on Remus’ cheek and leans in. 

Their lips meet in a soft kiss, a promise and longing. Comfort. 

And the two of them will fall asleep right there, in the middle of the bed, and each other's arms - fully cliche and not even embarrassed by it. 

That hurt and anxiety may still linger on occasion, those feelings that kept Sirius from asking outright and that dragged Remus out of bed one fateful early morning at the end of June. But those feelings were fleeting, and whatever seedling had been planted right there in between them would grow hearty roots.

Remus would wake up tomorrow with his arms full of something lovely and his face covered in pitch-black hair and whatever tension that usually made him get out of bed to head down to the pool would be absent.

The only remaining feeling is that of buzzing nerves and bubbling happiness. 

No, everything had not been fine, no matter how many times he tried to convince himself of the fact.

But, by god, how wonderful it would become. 

Chapter Text

Few things are so surprisingly straining as putting together furniture. And in this instance, it’s not even IKEA furniture with the easy-to-build instructions and little plastic bags filled with screws. 

No, this is the real deal.

A handsome, light mid-century bookcase. One that has open bookshelves on the top half and cabinets on the bottom. Made in the sixties if Remus’ estimations are correct.

One that had to be taken apart before lifting the separate pieces into the small elevator and then put back together again, inserting the shelves and rehanging the cabinet doors after oiling and polishing the hardware.

But it is beautiful, Remus thinks as he releases his arms and aching fingers of the heavy box filled with books ready to be placed in the newly put together piece of furniture. 

It’s one of those days that barely feel like they count in the regular calendar, one of those days between Christmas and New Year's. The wind is howling outside as he bends down to open the box of familiar titles but copies that don't belong to him.

Or now they do, sort of.

It’s like that with a lot of things nowadays.

Things that aren’t his but sort of are and things that were his own are no longer.

Not even his apartment.

Remus looks over his shoulder at the living room. It's the same place but with a totally different look from what it was during that first year.

The dark couch is still there but there is a lovely wool blanket in a colorful pattern strewn over the back, nestled in with the throw pillows. The coffee table was switched out for the one with more character. 

In the large window, potted plants stand in numerous pots of different varieties and a sprouting avocado pit has just managed its third leaf on a spindly stem. Right between the couch and the window stands the old record player. No record is spinning on the table at the moment, but the amplifier has a radio setting that is filling the room with general pop nonsense.

Remus doesn’t have to look in the kitchen to know that it is also different. It’s more subtle, but the change is there as well. It’s there in the artisanal plates and the hand-embroidered tea towels. Snacks he would’ve never picked for himself in the cupboards and a second favorite tub of ice cream next to his own in the freezer.

The change is prominent. And so so so welcome.

Because just like every other part of Remus’ life, Sirius stormed into his apartment and his home and just made it better.

On the calendar hanging on the fridge are two dates circled in red pen. Two anniversaries of sorts. Because they couldn't just have one.

The first one is in September last year. That’s the day Remus and Sirius had walked in the botanical gardens, drinking strong to-go coffees with their fingers softly woven together and coming to the conclusion that yes, they would both very much like to be each other’s boyfriend.

A soft kiss was placed on Sirius’ lips that tasted of fresh air and coffee and so many feelings Remus’ chest threatened to crack and spill all over the place. 

The second circled date is embarrassingly only three weeks later, in October. On that date at the restaurant that Remus had wanted to take Sirius which had misplaced their reservations and instead of waiting another hour to get a table they had decided to walk around the block to find a different place for dinner.

The skies had opened up to reveal the heaviest of rains and the two of them had just managed to run off into a pub at the end of a street that luckily had a free table for them. Remus tried to shake the rain out of his flat-laden hair as Sirius laughed at him. Remus had looked upon the most beautiful person in front of him and muttered in fake displeasure, “Don’t you dare laugh at the state of my hair, you’re lucky I love you so much.”

He had meant to say ‘like’ but the word that had felt so heavy and prominent in his mouth had just tumbled out of his mouth. It didn’t come as a surprise, but to Remus, who had carried that word around on his tongue for longer than he dared to admit, it felt too soon.

Sirius had been surprised. And had he been any other person he might’ve shied away from hearing those damning words so early in a relationship.

But neither of them was clear-headed or even normal about the other. 

And Remus got to witness Sirius’ gray eyes light up from the inside and the blush that coated Remus’ neck didn’t feel so bad when Sirius finally replied with a smile bright enough to power the entire city, “I love you too.”

They weren’t practical and they moved quickly and it was a storm and a carousel Remus didn’t want to get out of. 

But when it came time to move in together, the choice was obvious. Remus owned his apartment, with better connections to their respective offices, it was larger and all around the better choice.

Sirius lives, or used to live rather, in a small rental in the city, with steep rents but with an immaculate taste in interior design. So the shell of a place where Remus lived became a home filled with the two of them. 

Is becoming a home, rather. This is the last moving day. 

Remus looks down in the box filled with books that he recognizes from Sirius’ bookshelf in the former apartment. In front of him lay piles of his own books.

Time to integrate.

And just like how Sirius will wrap his arms around him in the kitchen as he cooks the two of them dinner on any random evening, Remus’ and Sirius’ books nestle in together on the shelves, side by side.

Just like how their bodies come together at night in sessions of mind-blowing sex that just gets better and better, the shared closet now holds two sock drawers and double the number of shirt hangers. Remus has moved his to the side; welcome, please take up space. Please take up space in my bed, in my closet, in my life. Let’s make it ours.

Sirius never hesitated to take up space. It has even come to the point where Remus had to pay for extra storage in his phone for all the pictures. 

There’s the picture of them from Lily and James’ wedding six months ago, that one is Remus’ screen saver.

There are blurry pictures from the pub with Pete, Dorcas and Marlene, and Gid and Fabian. A couple of them feature Regulus mean-mugging the camera.

There are two strips of photo booth pictures clasped to the fridge with magnets. One from Horace’s holiday party that Remus joined as a plus one. One from AP&W’s when Sirius did him the same courtesy. Two strips of photo booth pictures, two opportunities to take cheesy kissing photos and hang them proudly on their now shared fridge.

Remus sits back in his heels as the tune played on the radio is one of Sirius' current favorites. And just like clockwork, Sirius steps out of the bedroom humming, mid-process of folding laundry and putting it in their new respective places. He is dressed in one of Remus’ ancient crew necks and comfy shorts, tube socks, and slippers. His hair is piled on the top of his head and held together with a clip. He is the most beautiful sight.

Sirius sings a bit off-key as their eyes lock and his legs are skinny and his knees are still so weirdly knobbly and comical. And he is Remus’.

Sirius crosses the living room, only pauses to lean down and place a soft kiss on Remus’ lips before taking the clean, folded tea towels into the kitchen.

Remus watches in amusement for his place on the floor as his lover puts the towels in their drawer before taking the same route back. He gets another kiss on the way back.

To be loved is to be changed for the better. To love is to revel in taking part in another’s growth.

This is most evident by Remus sleeping longer in the mornings, no longer rushing to the swimming pool in the basement in the early hours. He’d rather lay in bed for the extra time, tuck his nose in Sirius’ sleep-scented skin, and wrap his arms around him. This has resulted in him gaining another notch in his belt, now on the second-to-tightest eyelet. 

It has resulted in Sirius being more settled, no longer rustled by career switches or Remus-based insecurities.

They laugh and they love and they cook and they talk and they live.

When most of the books are sorted and placed on the shelves there are only two paperbacks left. Two books, the same edition of the same novel. One abused and read through countless times, one a bit newer. 

Remus picks them both up, holds them in each hand and smiles like they’re precious. They are precious.

One copy he bought himself a decade ago. The other belongs to Sirius.

Sirius actually admitted to it on their first proper date, breakfast at a cafe around the corner from here, that the play with passing the book off as a business expense was never an accident at all. Just a ploy, a trick to see what Remus would do. He couldn’t help himself, he said. Sirius may have grown since his schoolboy days but couldn’t help himself to see the reaction.

It had paid off.

Remus clutches the two copies of Maurice in his hands before placing them on the shelf, on the top to signify their specialness. They had to be together, those two copies.

It really had paid off, that trick. Something stuck that day that Remus hadn’t been able to shake off. He hadn’t even been able to throw away the printed copy of the receipt that Sirius had left on his desk.

Remus smiles at Sirius’ rendition of the power ballad on the radio that he can hear from the bedroom.

No, he had kept that receipt. He would always keep it.

Right now it’s placed in a drawer in his desk, right under the small ring box he keeps hidden there.

It’s no question of if, just a matter of when.

God, he thinks as he looks at those two paperbacks and thinks of that ring box and its contents and the man it will soon belong to, he is so incredibly happy.