Work Text:
Remus should have known to expect the day to go in some way awry the moment he’d tripped on his way out of bed and hit his head on the door jamb. His loud cursing must have been a very lovely way to wake up for his husband. However, Sirius, the ever loving and caring husband that he was, only kissed his head better, among other things, which made Remus believe the whole day wasn’t entirely ruined before it had even had time to properly start.
He was proven wrong later in the day, when Sirius marched in through the front door, holding his arm with his other, smiling very apologetically at Remus and clearly trying not to wince with every step.
“I fell over on the bike,” he offered in explanation before Remus had time to ask.
Remus hurried over, hands hovering over Sirius, not able to decide if he should touch him or not. “Your arm is broken!”
Sirius was hanging it in front of him, the arm bent in an unnatural way. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You think so? I can see, with my eyeballs, that it is. We should be going to St Mungo’s.”
“No.” There was a whiny note to Sirius’ refusal. “Can’t you do it?”
Remus sighed in defeat. He didn’t really understand Sirius’ aversion to the hospital, but he knew Sirius had a bit of a problem with institutions in general, so he didn’t push it. “I’ll get the emergency kit.”
He walked over to where they kept the kit, waiting for the—
“You’re supposed to use your cane at all times, even at home!”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved a dismissive hand and didn’t look back to see the look on Sirius’ face that was sure to accompany his displeased scoff. It was Sirius who was injured now, Remus could easily forgo his own comfort for a few moments.
Remus brought out the pack, which, throughout the years, they’d stacked with both Muggle and magical remedies—plasters, disinfectants, various potions with healing properties, to name a few—and pushed Sirius to sit on the sofa. He sat on the coffee table in front of it, carefully assessing the damage.
Just by looking at the arm, Remus winced in sympathy. The bone was clearly broken, but thankfully the skin only had some minor scratches, which weren’t bleeding but were incredibly dirty—evidence of Sirius falling on the dirt road. Remus was sure he didn’t even want to know how exactly Sirius had managed to break his entire arm like this. “I need to clean these cuts. And set the bone.”
“Okay.” Somehow, Sirius was very calm about this.
“It’ll hurt.”
“I’ll survive.”
“It really would be better to have a professional take a look.” As he’d anticipated, Sirius only shook his head. “If you insist. Take this.” Remus offered Sirius a small vial of pain relieving potion, before even touching the broken arm.
One of the perks of being a werewolf included having mended many broken bones in his life, on himself mostly, so Remus knew exactly what he needed to do. Unlike when he did it to himself, however, Remus was extremely careful with Sirius, waiting for the recommended five minutes for the potion to take effect.
Despite telling Remus he’d be fine, as soon as Remus gently grasped the fingers of Sirius’ injured arm, Sirius immediately complained, “Why did this hurt so much? It’s not like this is the first time I’ve fallen over with my bike. Not even the first time I’ve broken an arm. I mean, sure, it’s been a few years since the last time but—”
“Sirius… My love…” Remus could barely keep laughter out of his tone. He bit his lip to keep from bursting out laughing when he caught the look on Sirius’ face, which would have been better suited on a three-year-old rather than the sixty-three Sirius was.
“No, don’t say it.”
“You’re—”
“No!” Sirius was trying hard to seem indignant, but Remus could see the smile dancing on his lips.
“You’re old now.”
“I thought we agreed that anything we didn’t say out loud doesn’t exist.”
“We never agreed on that. We’re old.”
Deciding the conversation was an excellent distraction, Remus waved his wand over the arm, quickly setting the bone back into place. Sirius didn’t even flinch, which told Remus the potion had thankfully done its job. Or Sirius was really trying his best to seem aloof. Remus was hoping for the first option; Sirius had a definite flair for dramatics, but when he was truly hurt he hid it stoically. Remus’ chest hurt from the thought of causing Sirius more pain, of Sirius being in pain in the first place.
Remus cleaned up the scrapes and watched the skin mend itself back before his eyes. It was less work than setting an entire bone, but Remus took no less care with the task. He’d have to keep an eye on any bruising that might form in the next few days. They’d almost run out of salve.
“This is the best I can do,” Remus finally said, wrapping the arm in gauze to keep a temporary splint in place. It served no other purpose than to remind Sirius that he was hurt; the nice part of magic was that he wouldn’t have to immobilise the whole arm for weeks. With luck Sirius would be fully healed by tomorrow. “Avoid using it for a while. If it hurts more—or if you manage to hurt it more—I’m taking you to Mungo’s.”
Sirius, recognising that Remus didn’t make empty threats, nodded solemnly.
“But there’s really no way of knowing if I did it right. We really should be going to check it out with—”
“Remus,” Sirius interrupted, cupping his free hand on Remus’ cheek to get him to lift his head so he could look him in the eye. “I trust you.”
“You could trust actual Healers more.”
“But I wouldn’t want to give them a kiss in thanks.”
True to his word, Sirius leaned over and brushed his lips on Remus’, light and gentle.
“Oh, here.” Sirius suddenly produced a single wildflower from somewhere; Remus couldn’t figure out where he’d kept it. It was small and dainty, with purple petals that resembled a bell. “It survived the crash.”
“Crash? You just said you’d fallen over.”
Sirius smiled sheepishly.
Remus suppressed his sigh. “Is the bike alright?” he asked, knowing it was the light of Sirius’ life.
“Yeah, just a scratch. I already fixed it.”
Of course the motorbike had gotten away with a scratch when Sirius’ whole arm had been broken. And naturally Sirius had fixed the bike before thinking of himself.
“Thank you, love.” Remus took the flower from Sirius’ hand and stood up to take it over to the vase in the kitchen where twelve others just like it—in various states of wilting—resided. He grabbed all of them by the stems and replaced the water in the vase. He plucked out one that looked more dead than alive and tossed it.
He stood there, silently admiring the flowers, revelling in the warmth just looking at these simple flowers gave him. Sirius seemed to go to great lengths each day to find him a different one. Remus wasn’t sure how there could be that many different flowers near where they lived, but Sirius somehow always managed to find some for him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hand depositing his cane to lean against the counter before arms wrapped around his middle. Sirius had walked up behind him and rested his chin on Remus’ shoulder now. Mindful of Sirius’ hurt arm, Remus held Sirius against himself, slotting their fingers together.
“I adore you,” Sirius mumbled against his neck.
“Where did you even crash with the bike? There’s nothing around for miles except fields.”
“Oh. There was a tree.”
“Did it suddenly sprout from the ground or how were you unable to dodge it? You must be getting old.”
Sirius’ breathy laugh tickled the hairs at the nape of Remus’ neck, and Remus was glad he didn’t seem truly upset at the jab.
“Does it still hurt?”
“Not one bit, thank you.” Sirius accompanied his thanks with a kiss to the back of Remus’ neck.
Remus turned around and carefully took Sirius’ wrapped hand in his, kissing the knuckles.
“Now it hurts even less.”
“‘Even less’ than ‘not one bit’?” Remus asked, smiling.
“Exactly.” Sirius kissed Remus on the lips this time. “Is it time to get started on dinner?”
Remus nodded. He’d been just about to start when Sirius came in. “I was going to have you cut vegetables, but now you’re demoted to stirring only.”
Sirius didn’t complain, just smirked at Remus and got into position next to the stove, ready for Remus to tell him what to do. He did usually have a more active role with cooking, but Remus was glad he seemed to take his injury seriously. If he’d said that out loud, he would have gotten a ‘I’m always Sirius’ back, so he chose to keep quiet.
Remus loved cooking. His mother had taught him all her recipes, which he still used to this day, and had shown him how to cook them properly, as in, no magic involved. And he loved cooking with Sirius, the time they dedicated to just spending a few moments focusing on the task was easily some of the best moments of his day.
Sirius soon spotted their old tabby cat, Dog—named by Harry’s children who thought they were being funny—sitting on the kitchen counter, where he always sat when he wanted food, even though he wasn’t allowed—a fight they’d long since given up with. Dog meowed loudly when Sirius glanced his way. “Did you feed the cat?”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t sound fed.”
“He’s lying to you. I fed him already. Leave it be, Sirius, he’ll get fat.”
“He’s starving.”
“He really isn’t.”
“Look at him, he’s just skin and bone.”
“I am looking, and he has dry food in his bowl. He’s just being picky.”
Sirius lifted the cat off the counter and next to his bowl, which Remus had filled recently. They both chuckled when he began immediately eating.
“We’re running out of butter,” Sirius commented. “Let’s take inventory and plan a grocery run soon?”
“We should go tomorrow or Monday. You know Mrs Beetles will be terrorising the place on Saturday again with her below par produce.”
“Teddy’s coming over tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah. We’re not completely out of food, are we?” Teddy, despite being long out of his growing teen years, still ate like one.
“We’ll be fine, but I wonder…. I heard a rumour… By that I mean of course that Molly told me—”
“He’s bringing Victoire, yes.”
Sirius gasped and paused his stirring, pointing the wooden spoon at Remus. “How did you know before I did?”
“He likes me better.”
Sirius seemed to consider for a moment, then grinned and returned to the pot. “Well, in any case, it’ll be nice to have some excitement around here for once.”
Remus fixed him an unimpressed stare.
“I didn’t crash my bike on purpose! And neither was it because I’m old!”
Sirius didn’t say anything for a long time after that and it left Remus wondering if what he’d perceived to be joking had truly affected Sirius in some way. He was about to apologise, just in case, when Sirius continued:
“We went through so much in such little time I sometimes feel like we should still be doing something… exciting. Instead, I’m here stirring a pot of sauce with a broken arm that still aches even though you healed it.”
“Well, I, for one, am glad the most exciting thing that happens these days is you crashing— sorry, falling on your bike. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” For some reason, Remus’ words came out a little choked and not at all light-hearted like he’d meant them.
Sirius moved quickly, taking the time to remove the pot from the fire before striding over to Remus, immediately pressing their lips together and sliding his fingers into Remus’ hair. Remus responded in kind, taking advantage of the fact he had two working hands and held Sirius closer with one arm around him while his other hand cupped Sirius’ jaw gently. He could taste the salt of his own tears in their kiss and was a little surprised any had fallen at all.
“What’s got you upset?” Sirius asked quietly after a while, and while Remus wanted nothing more than for him to continue kissing and holding him, he tried to get his thoughts in order.
“You— Not you, but just—”
“I understand,” Sirius interrupted and Remus didn’t doubt him for a second. They’d both had their bouts of inexplicable depression throughout the years and it often snuck up on them suddenly and then left, just as suddenly.
“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” Remus said anyway.
“I know. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Sirius added apologetically, fingers tenderly stroking down Remus’ face.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re actively leaking from your eyes, I wouldn’t call that fine.”
“It happens sometimes. Should we eat and then… go lie down or something?” Remus turned to check if their food was done. “There’s cat hair in the sauce.”
“Our cat lives on the counter, of course there’s cat hair in the sauce.”
Dinner was a little more sombre of an affair than Remus had planned after that conversation, but as they were washing dishes—or Remus was, with Sirius drying—Sirius’ touches quickly switched from comforting to teasing and then downright groping.
With the final utensil washed and in its place, Sirius spun Remus around, kissed him and simultaneously very boldly took Remus’ hand down to his own crotch, and moaned straight into Remus’ mouth when Remus ground his palm against the bulge there.
“Bedroom, I reckon,” Sirius mumbled, his low voice sending shivers down Remus’ back.
“You have a broken arm,” Remus reminded him, but his feet were already moving. On a regular day, Sirius might have just scooped Remus up and carried him to bed, but today he’d have to rely on walking there on his own, cane in one hand and Sirius’ hand in the other.
“Not broken anymore,” Sirius corrected, and flexed the fingers of the arm in question, as if testing it. “You fixed it.”
“Sirius.”
Sirius was insistently tugging him to their bed. “You’ll just have to be gentle.”
Remus knew gentle, he knew soft. And he knew how to take Sirius apart so slowly, like Sirius often did to him. What he didn’t know was how to say ‘no’ to Sirius when he was asking so nicely. As if he’d ever want to do that anyway; he’d much rather give Sirius anything and everything he wanted, whenever he wanted it.
He let Sirius pull him on the bed with him and leaned down to kiss him. “I’ll take care of you,” Remus promised.
“You always do.”
Undressing Sirius was an unhurried affair, Remus taking care to get his shirt off with minimal jostling to his arm, pausing to press tiny kisses to his now bare chest and along the softness of his stomach. Sirius’ trousers joined his shirt on the floor, leaving him in his tented underwear, a wet spot soaking through. Stopping to massage Sirius’ thighs and backside for a moment, enjoying the soft sounds Sirius’ let out, Remus slowly removed the final article of clothing, unable to stop himself from licking a broad stripe along Sirius’ cock. His own interest piqued from seeing how aroused Sirius was already and he got naked a lot quicker, impatient.
He leaned over to kiss Sirius again as Sirius hiked a leg higher, anticipating Remus’ next move without him having to say anything. They continued kissing, in a slow and languid pace, bordering on sloppy, as Remus reached down to push two lubed fingers inside Sirius, swallowing the ensuing moan. This wasn’t the most practical of ways to have sex, but it was one of Remus’ favourites, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it—to Sirius, at least. He loved the closeness, loved feeling every twitch of Sirius’ body as they held onto each other, loved when Sirius’ hand fisted in his hair as Remus’ fingers grazed against his prostate.
Remus could do this for hours, just watching Sirius slowly get more and more desperate as Remus teased him with his fingers until he was just shy of begging for Remus to fuck him. Sometimes he did let it go that far, but today wasn’t one of those days. Remus was already close himself and all he’d done was touch Sirius.
“Hold me?” Sirius asked when Remus pulled away slightly in preparation for the next part.
Remus would have considered what they’d been doing as him already holding Sirius, but he knew what Sirius meant. “Anything you want.”
Remus settled behind Sirius, spending a slightly awkward half a minute trying to decide where to put his arms until Sirius grabbed them and wrapped them around himself.
“Careful with the—”
“Remus, if you don’t stick your cock in me in the next five seconds, I’ll show you where you can carefully shove—”
“As you wish,” was all the warning Remus gave Sirius as he detangled himself from Sirius for the moment he needed to guide himself to his target, but as soon as he’d managed that he wrapped his arms back around Sirius.
Sirius let out a sound that was a combination of a moan and a sigh and immediately clenched around Remus, who in turn groaned against Sirius’ neck.
Moving slowly, all the while kissing the back of Sirius’ neck, Remus thrust into Sirius, pulling him against his chest, tangling their legs together. Sirius’ gasps and moans blended with his own, the careful and gentle movements quickly turning frantic as he chased his finish, reaching down with one hand to wrap around Sirius.
As anticipated, neither of them lasted long, Remus tightening his hold on Sirius as he came and revelled in the shudder Sirius let out before spilling over Remus’ fingers.
A little disappointed to be pulling out, Remus did so anyway and rested his head against Sirius, both of them trying to catch their breaths.
Before long, Sirius turned around in his arms, giving him a soft kiss, then kissed each of Remus’ closed eyelids. “Hey,” Sirius said, “it’s too early to go to sleep.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“That’s what an old person would say.”
Remus huffed out a laugh and tugged Sirius against his chest, smiling when Sirius relented and tucked his face into Remus’ neck. He pulled a blanket over both of them and Sirius snuggled closer.
Dog chose that moment to join them in bed, settling on top of Sirius’ hip and immediately closing his eyes.
“See, even the cat thinks this is sleepy time,” Remus pointed out.
“I suppose I’ll allow a nap,” Sirius said and Remus could hear the yawn in his words.
Sirius soon relaxed against Remus, who smiled to himself for his apparent victory. And if they accidentally slept until morning, neither seemed to mind.