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Chapter Text

“Could I get a name for the order?” Marlene asked. 

“Serious,” the man replied. “Like the star,” he clarified, and Remus mentally scratched out Serious and rewrote Sirius in his head. 

“The… star?” Marlene asked, her pen hovering over the cup as she hesitated.

“S-I-R-I-U-S,” Remus said. He stocked croissants into the display case, not looking up. “The Dog Star,” he added, “brightest star in the sky, actually. Visible from both hemispheres.” When he looked over, the man– Sirius– seemed surprised, his eyebrows raised as Remus spoke, and when Remus finished, he blinked a few times before smiling lopsidedly. 

“Er– yeah,” he breathed a laugh. “That.” There was a baby on his hip. Somehow, it had taken Remus a second glance to notice that. It was a very cute baby, warm brown skin and green eyes and thick hair that stuck out in every direction, and it did that thing that babies do when they just stare at you. And then the baby stuck its tongue out, just very slightly, and Remus pursed his lips to avoid smiling like an idiot.

“Nerd,” Marlene whispered to Remus instead of what she clearly meant to say, which was thank you, and she grinned cheerily at Sirius. “That’ll be right out.” Sirius nodded, rather cordially, and when he did, the baby’s head bowed slightly as well, and Remus stifled a laugh, turning back to the display case. He heard some coins plink into the tip jar and a rustle of a bill, and he resisted the urge to immediately check and see what was left. 

Sirius walked to the end of the counter, rocking back and forth slowly and bouncing the baby on his hip. He seemed young to be a father, but he had all of the exhaustion in his eyes as a new dad– the baby bore very little resemblance to Sirius whatsoever, though, which threw Remus off. He tried to make a story for him in his head. It was one of his favorite hobbies, here. The little old lady with secretly a russian assassin, the businessman in the sleek jacket wore mismatched socks as a tiny act of rebellion against his strict boss (definitely not because he picked up the wrong right and left), and the two girls who came in and ordered the largest size possible of their sweetest coffee were about to go take the worst test of their lives and didn’t even know it. 

Sirius had all of the style of a 90’s grunge band, contrasted heavily by the blue and white onesie the baby was wearing, as well as the gray diaper bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was long and black and messily pushed back out of his face, and he had piercings and hints of tattoos peeking above his shirt and paint stains on his pants, but the baby was clean and bubbly and laughing. They made an interesting pair, Remus thought. 

 Inventing a story for him would be difficult.

Sirius’ order, however, was not very difficult– which was lucky, because as it would turn out, Remus would make it almost every day thereafter.

***

“Medium, extra-shot, vanilla oat milk latte, for Sirius.”

Remus set the drink up onto the glass display case at the end of the serving line. He didn’t even have to look at the receipt to remember the name on the drink– Sirius ordered it every day at the same time without fail. He came in at 7 every morning, baby on hip or in stroller or once in a little chest carrier, and by now, Remus only had to look up at the sound of the bell and make eye contact before nodding and typing Sirius’ drink into the cash register. He didn’t even have to hear the order to know what buttons to press. 

And then Sirius would flash him that lopsided smile and put thirty dollars on the counter. Three tens. 

One of the bills was to pay for his own order (which was only $3.50); the second was to pay for the person who came in after him (which was usually also only $3.50); the third was for the tip jar.

Sirius was a generous tipper. It made Remus wonder exactly what he did for a living that he could afford to throw thirty dollars on the counter every single morning. He didn’t really look the part– in the least judgemental way, of course– but typically Remus pictured rich boys the same way: designer suit, expensive watch, and leather shoes. Sirius would stick out like a sore thumb among that type. He never changed much from his usual formula of outfit– dark jeans, scuffed leather boots, band t-shirts with holes in them. Some days, Sirius wore shirts with the sleeves messily chopped off, and he had tattoos that were written in languages Remus didn’t know and geometric shapes and crosses, and Remus wanted to know what they meant, though he’d never have the courage to ask.

And yet still, every morning, without fail, he placed thirty dollars on the cafe counter, hoisted the baby a little higher on his hip, and walked to wait for his drink.

Remus would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous. Nearly every single problem in his life could be solved with a little more cash. But the tips padded his pocket with a bit more grocery-money, and he was grateful for that. 

Sirius picked up the drink and smiled at Remus, nodding the same way he did every day. Remus issued his usual smile and have a nice day , and Sirius returned with his usual t hanks, you too. 

Remus didn’t know Sirius. He wanted to, he thought. He wanted to know why he didn’t order a black coffee, because he seemed the type to. He wanted to know where he worked, how he could afford to budget this much for coffee, what his apartment looked like. He wanted to know the name of the baby, because Christ , that was a cute baby. The bell rang softly as Sirius walked out the door, and Remus watched him leave. 

“Hey, Remus?” His thoughts were interrupted. Marlene was poking her head out of the back storeroom.

“Yeah?”

“Can you work the six-to-nine tonight? Evan called in sick. I’ll pay you overtime?” Remus mentally went over his schedule. His shift at the bistro down the street ended at 5:45, which meant that he wouldn’t have any time to eat dinner. Then again, another shift meant more savings, and at least Marlene let him sit down to take orders. He’d probably over-do it, but he’d worry about that when he got there, he supposed. He shrugged. 

“Yeah, I think so. Sure.”

“Sweet. You’re the best,” Marlene said, smiling. The sound of the bell brought Remus’s attention back. People were walking through the door to get their morning coffees before they went off to work. The morning rush was awful, full of antsy office workers and late-for-school teenagers, but it was also when Remus brought in the most tips, so he really didn’t mind. 

Marlene grabbed her apron off of the wall and tied it around her waist. The two of them worked well together during the rush– Remus called out the orders and got people moving through the line, and Marlene made the drinks. Sirius was smart, getting his drink before the rush came in. Remus watched his tenner sit at the bottom of the tip jar as the day drew on.

***

“Medium, extra-shot,” Remus yawned in the middle of his sentence, awkwardly putting his hand over his mouth, “vanilla oat milk latte, for Sirius.”

“Late night?” Sirius asked as he took his drink off of the counter. Remus was startled. The only thing he ever heard Sirius say was Thanks, you too, Thanks, you too, Thanks, you too. It took him a moment to realize that Sirius had asked a question.

“Uh– yeah,” he said, and then shook himself. He smiled. “Rough shift, you know?” 

Saturday nights, Remus worked tables from seven to twelve at the Crown Bistro, from right after the dinner rush until the restaurant closed. Usually it was middle-aged couples out on a “date-night,” or CEOs at a business dinner, or some other combination of people who all had more money than Remus. It was a good shift to have as far as pay was concerned, but it made Sunday mornings hell, and he was running on far too little sleep. He always knew exactly what to expect, pushing himself like that, and yet every Sunday he woke up miserable and achy and off balance. On good days, he’d need his crutch to get to work. On bad days…

Well, in any case, Sirius came in a little later on weekends, often lugging along a stroller or a diaper bag or a backpack that indicated he was going somewhere . Remus wondered what he did with his spare time. He wondered what he did with his regular time, too.

“I get it,” Sirius said, smiling. He raised his drink to Remus as though he was toasting him.

“Have a nice day,” Remus said. 

“Thanks. You too, Remus.” Remus blushed at the sound of his name coming from Sirius’s mouth, and he was this close to asking how Sirius knew his name before remembering he wore a name tag. Sirius laughed a little at the look on his face before he turned to leave. The baby, in the stroller this time, made a delightfully bubbly noise that was absolute nonsense, and Sirius raised his eyebrows, nodding along dramatically. “I know, right?” he said, speaking like the baby was a tiny adult. The baby gurgled as they walked to the door. “Spot on as always, Harry.” 

Harry, Remus repeated in his head. It felt like a success, for some reason, getting to learn the baby’s name. After all, he was just as much a regular as Sirius. Sirius looked back at him before he left, and Remus felt his stomach flutter.

*** 

Remus looked up to the sound of the bell, watching Sirius walk in through the door. He nodded and began pushing buttons on the register, but Sirius stopped him.

“Actually, today we’re gonna mix it up a little,” he said. Remus looked up and raised his eyebrows. Sirius had ordered the exact same drink every day for three weeks. “What’s the most caffeinated thing you sell?” Remus laughed and looked behind him at the menu. 

“Um,” he sighed, taking in the list of drinks. “Probably a dark roast?”

“I’ll take a large one of those.”

“Do you want me to put any flavor in it? Vanilla?” Remus asked. By now, he knew that Sirius liked his drinks sweet. 

“Caramel?” We really are mixing it up, Remus thought.

“You got it.” Sirius laid down his thirty dollars and sighed.

“Why the sudden change?” Remus asked as he put the money into the register and started making Sirius’s drink. Sirius rubbed his eyes, and when he did, Harry started fussing on his hip, bending his arms and pushing against Sirius’ chest awkwardly.

“Harry’s teething,” Sirius said miserably. “And I didn’t sleep, and now I’ve got to work, and–” Remus nodded, attempting to hide a smile as Harry grabbed onto Sirius’ hair with an iron grip. Sirius winced, trying to pull his hair back, but Harry made a very loud noise like a bird cawing. “Ow, christ, Harry, would you–  ow!” Sirius held Harry out at arm’s length, but Harry flailed his arms around and kept yanking.

“The joys of fatherhood?” Remus asked, but Sirius got a very sad sort of sour look on his face when he said it, and Remus regretted opening his mouth. It was presumptuous, he supposed, but he never saw Sirius without Harry, so he just assumed…

“Something like that,” Sirius mumbled. “Sorry, can I just…?” He gestured vaguely to put Harry down on the counter for a moment, and Remus nodded as he started pouring dark coffee into the biggest cup they had.

“Sure, sure,” he replied. Sirius set Harry down, prying his fist open to retrieve his hair. He rummaged around in his pocket and produced a black hair tie, scooping his hair back into a messy attempt at a bun at the back of his head. Pieces fell out and clumped up awkwardly, and Remus didn’t have the heart to tell him he missed a chunk at the back.

“Thanks,” Sirius sighed, picking Harry up again and setting him against his hip, keeping his head a little further from the baby now.

“Where do you work?” Remus asked, attempting to salvage whatever smalltalk they’d been making before Remus implied Sirius was a dad. Sirius followed Remus down the counter as he finished pumping caramel syrup into the drink, sliding on the heat guard.

“Hm? Oh. I– well, I guess I kind of work for myself,” Sirius shrugged. “I fix up old cars and motorcycles.” Of course you do, Remus thought to himself.  “How about you?” Sirius asked, and Remus paused and looked at him.

“Where… where do I work?” Sirius closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Right. Of course. You work here. Currently. Sorry.” Remus laughed and put the lid onto the cup, handing it to Sirius over the counter. “Thanks,” Sirius said, and Remus noticed that he was blushing. It was unfortunate for Sirius how obviously the pink flush stood out against his pale skin.

“Well, good luck with the teething,” Remus said, smiling. 

“Thanks.” He sipped the coffee and made a sour face. He shook his head, took another sip, and then raised the cup to Remus, toasting him. “Have a nice day, Remus.”

“You too, Sirius.” 

Sirius blushed a little more, and Remus tried to convince himself that it was just because he was embarrassed, and not because Remus had simply said his name. 

Sirius walked out through the door, ducking his head out of the way as Harry made another grab for his ear this time. Remus watched him leave. He was slowly but surely putting together a puzzle in the shape of Sirius. Of all of their regulars, he was certainly the most interesting, Remus thought. He’d gotten to a point when he almost felt guilty missing work on days he had to stay home– guiltier than he usually did– because he wouldn’t be there to serve Sirius his usual latte. 

And he wondered, perhaps in a rather self centered, egotistical way, if Sirius missed him on those days. If maybe Sirius looked forward to seeing him as well. If maybe Sirius thought about Remus when he left the café, too.

*** 

Remus sat at the table in the corner of the café, sipping on the tea that Marlene had let him have for free. It was almost 7, almost time for Sirius to come in and buy his usual. It felt strange to be sitting anywhere else but behind the register, but Marlene had accidentally double-booked the shift when Evan requested overtime, and so Evan was standing behind the register this time instead of Remus. Marlene said she would still pay him for the shift if he helped clean up, so he wasn’t mad, but it felt unusual to have free time. 

The bell rang, and Sirius walked in. He looked to the register and smiled at Evan politely, but his expression lacked the usual enthusiasm that Remus received. But then Sirius caught sight of Remus out of the corner of his eye, and his face brightened, and Remus couldn’t help but feel proud of that in some strange way.

“Morning,” Evan said, a perfect barista smile on his face. “The usual?” Sirius pulled his attention away from Remus like it took physical effort. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “thanks.” Evan started punching numbers into the register, and Sirius paid his usual exorbitant amount and made his way over to the end of the counter. When he had the coffee safely in his possession, he walked over to Remus’ table. “Mind if I join you?” Remus blinked at him for a moment. Harry reached a hand down, his fingers opening and closing in a grabbing motion. 

“Sure,” Remus managed, taking a sip of his tea in an attempt to act casual, but this was closer than he and Sirius had ever been before. Somehow, without the counter between them, Sirius felt much more real and Remus felt much less confident. Sirius sat down across from Remus, plopping Harry onto his lap, where the baby grabbed a fistful of Sirius shirt and yanked on it. Remus saw black ink peeking out over the center of his chest and under his collarbone. 

“Harry, ease up,” Sirius muttered, prying his fingers free. Harry refocused his efforts on trying to grab the sugar packets from the table. Sirius sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“How’s the teething?” Remus asked, smiling at Harry as he slapped his hand against the table.

“There sure are teeth,” Sirius said exhaustedly, and Remus laughed. “Why aren’t you working right now?”

“Scheduling thing. Marlene accidentally double-booked the shift between her and Evan, so she’s letting me have a break.” Sirius nodded.

“Nice.” They both sipped their drinks. Remus moved the sugar holder slightly further away from Harry, which earned him an incredible glare from someone so small.

“Nowhere to be?” He asked, and then realized how rude it sounded. “Not that I’m bothered by the company, of course–“ Sirius smiled.

“I’m taking Harry to my brother’s later today, but that’s around noon, so we’ve got some time to kill.”

“Then why are you getting coffee so early?”

“Gotta have a routine,” Sirius shrugged. “And this little monster makes it hard to sleep in.” Harry slammed his hand down on the table again.

“Okay, valid,” Remus said. Sirius ran a hand through his hair. Remus watched as his fingers slid easily through his black waves, and Remus found himself wondering if it was as soft as it looked. He smothered the thought with a large gulp of tea. They kept making small talk– or rather, Sirius kept making small talk, because Remus, as it turned out, was painfully awkward when confronted with the very thing he’d been aching for. They chatted easily about the weather, about the traffic downtown, about how annoying the road work was getting. Sirius was frustrated with how much longer it took to drive to the park, so recently he’d elected to start walking.

After about a half hour, Marlene leaned over the counter, waving a hand to get Remus’ attention. 

“Sorry, Moony,” she said, “but could I get you to help me with the ovens for a sec?” 

“Sure,” Remus smiled, and she nodded gratefully. 

“Moony?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow, and Remus laughed. 

“Long story,” he shrugged. “Maybe you’ll hear it someday.” Sirius blushed at that, and Remus bit his cheek to avoid smiling dopily. He reached down beside his chair to pick up the crutch he’d laid there when he sat down, and when he slid his arm into the brace at the top, he looked up to find Sirius staring at it. Something tight knotted itself in Remus’ stomach, and he found himself staring right back until Sirius finally looked up at him and realized. 

“Sorry,” he blurted out awkwardly, shaking himself slightly. “I– have you always had that?” Remus blinked at him, searching for a response, but something inside him felt a little bitter, now.

“Well, I guess some days I don’t–” 

“Wait,” Sirius interrupted, shaking his head and wiping his hand across his face, the blush from before becoming a bit more a furious red that tinted his ears as well. “Wait. Sorry. Oh my god, that was so rude.”

“It’s fine–” It wasn’t fine, but Sirius at least seemed to recognize that.

“No, no, I swear I have manners, christ,” he said, flustered. “I just didn’t notice before, which– you know, I feel like I should have, considering how much I look at you–” Remus’ eyebrows crept up his forehead as Sirius spoke. “Not that–! Not that I’m looking at you, like looking looking– well–” he was stepping on his own toes, backtracking and explaining and putting his foot in his mouth all at once. It was frankly a little amusing seeing him so thrown. “I didn’t mean to stare.” 

Remus bit the inside of his cheek, silently rising out of the chair. He leaned his weight against the crutch, and he found himself resenting it just slightly, the same way he did whenever someone stared for just a little too long. Sirius looked back down at the crutch again, and Remus bristled for a moment before he leaned in and narrowed his eyes. 

“What’s the sticker say?” he asked, and Remus held back a smile. 

“Uh…” he felt himself flush a little. “It says–” he cleared his throat. “It says my illness is chronic but this ass is iconic.” Sirius snorted loudly and then clapped a hand over his mouth. 

“Sorry. Sorry, that’s–” Sirius pursed his lips, waving a hand. 

“Marlene got it for me,” Remus said by way of explanation. “This one says out of order,” he turned his arm slightly so the back of the arm brace was visible, and there was a sticker with a little picture of a skull on it with a sign in front of it that held the text.

“Incredible,” Sirius laughed, and Remus couldn’t help but smile a little. He supposed he could forgive Sirius a little– he really didn’t use the crutch much at work since it was easier to balance on the countertops when he needed to, and Sirius only saw him for maybe ten minutes out of the day max. And he didn’t even use it every day.

“Duty calls,” Remus sighed, pushing in his chair and picking up the tea from the table. 

“Right,” Sirius nodded. “Of course.” Remus paused and turned back.

“Thanks for staying to talk,” he said. Sirius toasted him, smiling apologetically. 

“Of course. Have a nice day, Remus,” he replied.

“You too. Bye Harry,” Remus added. Harry stuck his tongue out.

***

The bistro was, accurate to its name, a beast. Dinner rush lasted hours, and the people who dined there were always the most impatient people. Everything had to be perfect for them, or the whole meal was a waste. Remus was able to avoid the brunt of it, standing at the front as the host, but he overheard an awful lot. It was a Friday night, always the most hectic, and Remus found himself faced with the ever impossible task of seating six person parties with no reservation at any of their already full tables. 

A dinner here would cost his rent. Every time he saw a designer suit or a thousand dollar watch or a diamond necklace, he couldn’t help but think about his meager savings. He didn’t even like steak, but man would it be nice to put it on a card without even worrying about overdraft fees. Remus heard the door open.

“Good evening, welcome to Crown Bistro–“ he looked up and cut himself off. 

Sirius. 

He was making eye contact with Sirius. He was making eye contact with Sirius, and Sirius was standing there in a suit , a far cry from anything Remus had ever seen him in, black jacket and white shirt unbuttoned just enough that Remus could see the tattoo between his collarbones, and his hair was shining and sleek, and Remus was standing there like an idiot, frozen. Say something! “H- how many?” he managed, and then blushed. 

“Remus!” Sirius exclaimed, his face halfway between shock and delight. “I, er… didn’t know you worked here.” 

“Yeah,” Remus stammered, and then they just sort of watched each other silently for far too long, an immensely awkward silence stretching between them, before the woman at Sirius’ arm cleared her throat. And it was only when she did so that Remus (guiltily) noticed that she was there at all. 

“We’ve got a reservation for two, at seven,” she said politely, elbowing Sirius in the side just slightly, and he shook himself. Numbly, Remus looked down at the screen in front of him. 

“Name?” he asked tensely. The woman nodded toward Sirius, and Sirius found his words finally. 

“Black,” he answered, and Remus turned the name over and over in his head; Sirius Black. 

“Ah, yep, I see,” Remus noted, marking the table that was reserved for them. He cleared his throat, attempting to shake off the shock of seeing Sirius anywhere but the coffee shop, and in anything except for jeans and t-shirts, and with anyone but tiny baby Harry on his hip, which also made him wonder, where was Harry? 

And then he scolded himself, because why on earth would Sirius bring a baby to a bistro– which brought to mind the thought of Harry wearing a tiny baby suit and tie, which made him just distracted enough to bang his hip against the corner of a table, and then he was suddenly immensely self-conscious about the way he walked, because he realized Sirius and the woman were walking behind him, and his left leg always managed to throw him off balance when he wasn’t paying attention, and even more so when he elected to go without his crutch, and so now he was walking very manually in such a way that would probably have made his physical therapist very proud–

“Here we are,” Remus said, gesturing to the table. It was a little square one off to the side, thankfully quite far from the host stand, so Remus wouldn’t have to sit there sneaking glances at the two of them sitting there, wondering who that woman was and if they were together and if this was Harry’s mother, or if they were on a date, or if they were– “A server will be right with you,” Remus added, cutting his own thoughts short, because jesus christ, why was he suddenly so on edge? 

“Thanks,” the woman said brightly, and Remus smiled very tensely at her before nodding his head and walking back to the front of the restaurant without looking back at Sirius. Because oh my god, he recognized this feeling so distinctly, and oh my god, why was he jealous? It burned in his chest and made his throat sharp, and it was ridiculous and irrational and completely not his place to feel like this. Sirius was a stranger. He was allowed to go on a date with a woman at a fancy restaurant that Remus could never afford to eat at. He was allowed to do whatever the hell he wanted with whoever the hell he wanted. 

Ugh. Get a hold of yourself, he thought. His shift was four more hours. He would spend the entirety of it trying not to think of Sirius and failing miserably, even after he and the mystery woman left the restaurant, or maybe especially because he and the mystery woman left the restaurant, or maybe very especially because she clung to his arm and glanced at Remus and then giggled as they walked through the door. 

*** 

“Medium, extra-shot, vanilla oat milk latte, for Sirius.”

“Will you go to dinner with me?”

“Have a nice– what?” Sirius took the drink from Remus’s hand, but Remus remained frozen in place, his fingers wrapped around the ghost of a cup.

“Will you go to dinner with me? Tonight. Maybe. If you’re free.” Remus stared at Sirius, saying nothing. Dinner? Like, a date? Like, a real date? With Sirius? Harry flailed his arms and slapped Sirius directly in the face, and Sirius winced, nudging his little hand away very gently. He couldn’t be serious, could he? ( Hah. Serious. Sirius. Oh my god shut up.) Remus shook himself mentally. He blinked, and Sirius was still standing there, waiting very patiently for an answer, his ears just slightly pink. 

“Dinner,” Remus choked out, finally lowering his hand. He rested it against the counter. 

“Yes,” Sirius nodded. “Dinner. If you want. And you can say no, of course, I won’t mind, really, but you’re– well, you know, I– I think we’d get along quite well, honestly, and– er– I think Harry likes you as well…” he trailed off, and Remus closed his mouth when he realized it had been hanging open that whole time. He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” Sirius said, and Remus’ mind continued to spin in useless circles. 

And here’s what was funny about that; Remus had fully intended to be very cool when Sirius came in that morning. He had been awkward enough when Sirius had shown up at the Crown Bistro that Remus had thought about it for the next several hours, when he surely should have been sleeping, and so he’d made a plan, because he figured he might as well while he was up.

The plan was this: Remus would certainly, definitely, positively not care whatsoever that Sirius, who he had no right to be jealous over in any way, had come to a fancy restaurant in a fancy suit with a fancy woman at his arm (who Remus was sure was a very lovely woman, nothing against her at all, really), and he would be categorically normal. So normal. Cool, even. Yes, he would be cool. Very cool, and very normal. So that was step one. And then step two was to show Sirius that he was all business, and so it would be medium, extra-shot, vanilla oat milk latte, for Sirius, and have a nice day, and that would be that. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Sirius continued. “I’d just like to get to know you better. Outside of coffee orders.” 

“Sure,” Remus breathed. 

“Sure, as in, you get it? Or sure, as in…” 

“Dinner,” Remus repeated, and it was like someone else was speaking for him; someone much more confident, apparently. “Uh– sure, as in– yeah. Dinner. Dinner sounds good.” Sirius grinned so wide Remus thought his face might crack open. He cleared his throat, clearly trying to neutralize his expression with little success. Remus felt like he was melting and freezing at the same time. “I, uh… I get off at four,” Remus said quietly. He could feel that his face was bright red, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t expected this. Not at all, not even in his wildest dreams, because oh my god, this must be a dream.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” Sirius asked. Remus didn’t know. He couldn’t think straight. There was something fluttering in his chest. He’d had a feeling today, and he wondered now if this was why.

“Um. No. I… I would have to go home first. To change and all that.” Sirius nodded. “Where…?”

“I was thinking the Italian place on the corner of Broad and Seventh?” Remus nodded slowly. 

“Yeah,” he said, mentally shaking himself. “Yeah, that sounds good.” What the fuck!

“How’s six o’clock sound?” The realization hit Remus that he was going on a date. A date. And not just a date, but a date with Sirius. The fluttering turned into something much warmer. He smiled. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

Sirius smiled, too. He took a pen from the side of the counter and wrote his number on the receipt for his coffee, handing it to Remus with a smirk that made Remus’ stomach flip.

“Perfect. See you then, Remus.”

“Have a nice day?” 

“You too.” The bell rang to signal Sirius’s exit, and Remus nearly collapsed right there. Marlene cleared her throat from behind him, making him jump. Remus wheeled on her, trying to think of something to say, anything. Anything. Oh my god. What the fuck!

“Oh my god,” Remus said.

“That was interesting,” Marlene said.

“What do I do?” Remus’s voice cracked. Marlene looked confused. 

“What?” 

“Oh my god , Marlene, what do I do?”

“Go on the date?”

“What, to the Italian place? I can’t pay for that right now, I just paid rent!” He could feel his breaths getting shorter.

“Moony, I’m pretty sure that Sirius can pay for dinner–“

“And what do I wear? I don’t have anything fancy. I don’t even have a nice jacket! And he’s– oh my god Marlene, he’s hot.”

“Well, yeah.“

“He’s hot Marlene, and I’ve never even had a boyfriend before!”

“Wait, really?” 

“Oh, my god.” Remus felt like his entire body was going numb. Sirius had asked him out. Hot, funny, rich (?) Sirius had asked him out, and Remus had said yes. What was he thinking?

“Remus. Breathe.” Remus let out a shaky breath, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. “It’s okay. Go on the date. Have a good time. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out.”

“And then I have to see him every day for the rest of my life–“

“ Not the rest of your life. It’ll be fine. You have my number in case something goes wrong. Just call me, and I’ll pick you up.” He felt Marlene wrap his fingers around his wrists, pulling his hands away from his eyes.

“Really?”

“Really.” He let out another breath.

“What do I wear?”

“Do you own a collared shirt?”

“Yeah…”

“Wear that. Roll the sleeves up a little, like… three fourths of the way. And not jeans. Pants. Those pants, even.” Remus looked down at the black slacks he was wearing and nodded. “Sicily’s isn’t that fancy, I promise.” Remus nodded again, unsure of what to say, and Marlene seemed to heavily consider her next words before she spoke them out loud. “And don’t do anything you don’t want to.” 

“Well, what does that mean?” He asked, looking up. Marlene hesitated. 

“Well, you know… like you said, you haven’t had a boyfriend, and he’s got a kid, so… you know. Maybe he’s more– experienced.” Remus scrunched up his face.

“Oh, jeez, Marlene– don’t give me the talk .”

“I’m just saying! Don’t feel… you know… pressured.” Sirius wasn’t like that. Or maybe he was. Remus didn’t know him. He had barely just learned his last name. He still didn’t even know if Harry was actually his kid, or if that woman at the bistro was his… something? Though clearly not, because he’d asked Remus on a date, or maybe– “It’ll be fine. You’ll have fun.”

“Yeah, sure…” Remus muttered. If I manage to function properly, maybe. The bell on the door rang, and Marlene patted him on the shoulder. “Go get some water. I’ll handle the drinks.” Remus nodded and walked to the back room. 

He had a date. A real date. With a real boy. A man. Oh, god, a man. It wasn’t like they were school kids, which… Remus was pretty sure that was the last time he might have even had any semblance of having a boyfriend… Christ, what was he getting himself into? There was something heavy behind his eyes, and he got a weird feeling like he was floating a bit.

***

The shift was a double. It was four hours from seven to eleven, an hour lunch, and then noon to four. Sirius had asked him out at nine, later than he usually came in because it was a Saturday, and so that left Remus eight whole hours to stew over the whole situation in his head. 

Around ten, the fluttering feeling in his chest had dulled to a sort of tingling under his skin, anticipation and anxiety muddling inside him. He convinced himself by then that this wasn’t a truly awful idea, because if it went wrong, he could just ask Marlene to start his shifts at 8 in the morning instead of 7, which would avoid Sirius altogether.

At eleven, he spent lunch going over his wardrobe, somehow getting stuck on what pair of shoes he wanted to wear while he considered the ways in which this could actually go well and not terribly. He owned converse, but he never managed to tie them very well because of how his fingers wouldn’t quite listen to him, and he pictured himself tripping over the laces and falling flat on his face. Were converse even fancy? Probably not. And then there were his work shoes, which were the ugliest pair of black tennis shoes he’d ever seen, so those were out. 

At one, he remembered that his mum had given him a pair of nice leather boots that slid on easily, and that he hadn’t quite had an occasion to wear yet because they felt a bit too nice to wear to work, and a bit too new to wear anywhere else, but he figured this was a good occasion, and also something he’d certainly tell her about and something she’d have a good laugh over.

And then at two, he tasted metal.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Marlene,” Remus said, and the misery in his voice made her turn almost instantly. She frowned at him. “I’m getting an aura.” 

“Fuck,” Marlene said. At least they were on the same page. “It started just now?” Remus nodded, tension building in his chest, because this was really, really not at all what he needed right now, and also supremely unfair. “Alright,” Marlene muttered. She wiped her hands off on her apron, biting the inside of her cheek. “Damn. Alright. Do you want to try to get home?” 

Remus frowned. He swallowed down something sharp in his throat. There was a sense of dread building behind his eyes. Sometimes when he got auras, he had almost an hour before he went down. Sometimes he had seconds. Remus wrapped his arms around his ribs like it would hold him together. 

“I’ve got a date, Marlene,” he breathed, and then he couldn’t help but laugh at himself, because of course that’s what he was worried about. 

“You might still make it,” Marlene said reassuringly. “It’s only, what, two? You’ve got time. And if not, I’m sure Sirius wouldn’t mind if you rescheduled. He already waited this long to ask you out.” 

“I guess,” Remus croaked. 

He groaned, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. It was always the worst timing. Maybe he was cursed. Something very mean in the back of his head reminded him that sometimes episodes were brought on by stress, and the thought that Sirius asking him out on a date might have kicked this off made him feel immensely guilty for some reason. When he opened his eyes, Marlene was still watching him, concern plastered on her face. The metallic taste in his mouth was stronger, acidic like a battery, and his tongue felt numb. Fuck, he thought. 

“I don’t think I can walk home,” Remus admitted bitterly. 

“Alright,” Marlene repeated. She took a deep breath and then blew it out. “Alright. Why don’t you sit? I’ll close up for now.”

“You don’t have to–” 

“Remus,” she said simply, and he knew to shut his mouth. Marlene was probably the only one who knew how to look after him as well as his mum. She’d known him longer than any of his other friends, and she’d never faltered in her genuine care for his well being. She was also one of the few people who trusted him to know his own limits, and he trusted her well enough to tell her when he reached them. 

Remus sighed shakily, sitting with his back against the counter. He heard Marlene flip the sign on the door, click the lock, and make her way back over. She came and sat with him on the floor behind the counter. Remus thudded his head back against the wood behind him. 

“Not to be a bummer,” he said quietly, “but this fucking sucks.” 

“Yeah,” Marlene murmured. 

“I had a date,” Remus whined. 

“You still have a date, Moony,” she pointed out. “Do you want to text him? Reschedule?” Remus didn’t. He really didn’t. What he really wanted was for this to be something simple. Absence, or maybe atonic. Those weren’t awful. But those ones didn’t taste like this.

“He asked me out,” Remus breathed instead. “Can you believe that?” 

“I mean… yeah,” Marlene laughed. Remus raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh, come on.” 

“What?”

“Seriously? He’s had eyes for you since the first time he came in,” she shook her head, smiling. 

“Wh– really?” 

“Since the second you knew how to spell his name. Honestly, who names a kid Sirius?” 

“Who names a kid Remus?” Remus countered, and she snorted. 

“Wolfy McWolf,” she grinned, and Remus rolled his eyes. “Do you think his middle name is a star, too?” 

“I’ll have to ask, I guess,” Remus shrugged. They sat in silence for a while. Remus felt his phone burning a hole in his pocket, and he tossed the idea back and forth of texting Sirius. Maybe he could just say he was feeling sick. But then he might think he was just flaking out, making up excuses not to go. And then it would be even more awkward when Sirius came in the next day and ordered a latte and Remus had to–

Everything blurred together, then. Remus felt his head tip back, the world swirling before his eyes. Marlene was cupping the back of his neck, guiding him to the floor, and blood rushed in his ears. He felt anxiety surging in his stomach, the bitter taste in his mouth spreading over his entire tongue and down his throat, and then he was numb.

He didn’t know how long the first one lasted.

 He thought he might be coming back from it, the ache creeping into his bones, Marlene’s voice cutting through only barely– it’s alright, you’re alright, come on. It’s okay. Can you hear me? Come on, Moony–  but then he was out again, and back, and out, and back, and Marlene sounded farther and farther away each time, and more and more urgent–  Remus? Come on, please? Just breathe. You need to breathe. Remus? Remus, please.

He felt like he was underwater. Everything was cold and sharp and all he could feel was the crushing burn in his lungs, and there was copper in his mouth right alongside the battery taste. There were lights, and sirens, and something cold and sharp, and in those moments where he could form a thought, which were few and far between, it was only this; something is wrong.

Chapter Text

Sirius waited. 

He waited at the restaurant for fifteen minutes, and then thirty, and then an hour. He waited at the table for Remus to get there, and then waited outside to catch him if he was coming down the street. He waited at his apartment for a phone call long after Regulus dropped Harry off again, watching his phone screen, his feet tapping anxiously on the ground.

He waited because he wanted a reason. He waited for an explanation. He waited for some text that said, here’s why you were sitting at a table alone tonight. Here’s why the waiter kept bringing you bread because he felt bad. Here’s why you had to apologize for taking up a spot. 

Because Remus must have had a reason , right? He wouldn’t just stand him up, right? It just didn’t make sense. 

Sirius had tried to lie, first, and say the date went well when Regulus asked. But Regulus was Regulus, and he just stared at Sirius with his eyebrows raised until Sirius relented and admitted he’d been stood up. Not stood up. There was a reason for it, he was sure. He said as much, and Regulus pursed his lips, but he didn’t comment, but Regulus didn’t know Remus, so who was he to say? So Regulus stayed, and cooked, and laid on the ground next to Harry while Sirius babbled on about how maybe his apartment had flooded or maybe his mum needed a ride to the airport or maybe he’s forgotten about a shift at work and didn’t have his phone and just forgot, how maybe he just forgot, and that was okay, really, he wouldn’t be angry if he just forgot, because people forget sometimes, but he just wanted to know that he forgot and didn’t just stand him up because Remus wouldn’t do that, right? 

And Regulus did the kind thing, which was not to point out the simplest explanation that Remus had simply decided not to go. 

And the fact that Regulus was kind meant that Sirius really must have looked very upset, even though he wasn’t upset, he really, really wasn’t. Honest.

But it would be okay. Sirius would see him at the café, and they could sort it out. Maybe he’d been too up front. Maybe he’d made Remus uncomfortable, and Remus just didn’t want to say it because he was too polite. Maybe he felt pressured. Maybe he felt like he couldn’t say no. Sirius had sort of cornered him, he supposed, asking him at work like that. And knowing that Remus would have to see him every day after… maybe he should find another coffee shop, but the thought of never seeing Remus again even in this hypothetical scenario made his chest tight. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked him in the first place. Maybe that was the mistake. And now he couldn’t play it off, because Remus knew, and Sirius was really very bad at hiding how he felt when he was feeling things.  

Like right now. When Remus was making him feel things. And they weren’t good things. 

And then, he thought, maybe Remus had gotten hurt. Maybe there was an accident.

Maybe there was an accident.

Sirius didn’t sleep after he got that thought in his head. 

He kept seeing car crashes behind his eyes, bent metal and tire marks and behind the windshield it was Remus, and then it was James, and then Lily, and then Harry, and his mouth was full of bile. But he couldn’t call anyone about this, because what would he say? What could he ever say? So he sat awake, cross legged in front of Harry’s crib, watching him sleep with his arms and legs splayed out in all directions, watching his chest rise and fall in the dark, and he thought about terrible things.

But it would be okay. Sirius would see him at the café, and they could sort it out.

Except Remus wasn’t at the café. The next day when Sirius walked to the coffee shop,  it was closed, no familiar face to greet him, to remember his order for him, to say, hello, Sirius, or have a nice day, Sirius, or I didn’t mean to stand you up, Sirius, or I’m not dead, Sirius. He stood in front of the glass door, staring at the sign–  sorry, we’re closed!– and he didn’t know what to do. 

He checked his phone, and there were no messages. 

And then he checked the news, but there were no car crashes reported, and he checked the obituaries after that, but there were no Remus’ to be written about. So he had that, at least. It didn’t do anything to force away the awful heaviness in his chest. 

He ordered a dark roast from the place down the street because he didn’t know what else to do, and it was terrible and bitter.

The coffee shop wasn’t open the next day, either.

Regulus talked him out of calling hospitals. Mary made him take a walk. Andromeda came over that night and made him eat dinner, and Sirius knew what this was. He knew what it was, but he couldn’t stop himself from spiraling– he couldn’t even make himself try.

Finally, on Wednesday, Remus wasn’t there, but Marlene was. If that was supposed to make Sirius feel better, it didn’t. 

When he walked through the door and the little bell overhead jingled, Marlene looked up, met his gaze, and her eyes widened a bit.

“Oh! Sirius!” She called, and Sirius’ stomach lurched. Where was Remus? Why wasn’t he here? The shop was open, so he should be here, so why wasn’t he here? And then he tried desperately to remind himself that, no, that didn’t mean something awful had happened, and Remus had missed work before, and he wasn’t always there, he didn’t bloody live there or something, so this didn’t necessarily mean anything– “Oh, and hello Harry,” she said sweetly, and Harry stared at her. “So, look, I’ve got a message from Remus–”

“Is he alright?” Sirius blurted out, knowing he probably sounded incredibly desperate, but fine, he’d admit it now, he was, so he didn’t really care. Marlene blinked at him for a moment. 

“Er… yeah, he’s– he’s fine. He had a little… Well, he’s alright now ,” she said, and Sirius felt like all of the air had been punched out of his lungs, because one, Remus was fine, and two, he had a little what? And three, he’s alright now? And five, What did that mean? And… six? seven? Why did she hesitate? 

But Marlene wouldn’t smile that cheerily if there was something wrong, would she? She said she had a message though, which meant Remus was okay, but if he was okay then why wasn’t he here? If he was okay, then why would she say that he was alright now? If he was okay, then why didn’t he– then why did Sirius wait for so long–

“Oh, wh– Sirius? Hey– hold on, hold on– Evan, cover the register!” she called to the other employee there, and there was blood rushing in Sirius’ ears as she held onto his wrist and led him behind the counter and into the back room. Sirius felt his chest tightening as he forced air into his lungs and he felt hot and sweaty. “Come here, come on,” Marlene said gently, guiding him to a chair in the back office, and he sank down into it, bracing one elbow against his knees as he sucked in a breath.

“Sorry,” he choked out. “Christ, sorry.” Harry clung to his shirt, scrunching the fabric in his hand and pulling it sideways.

“No, it’s… it’s alright,” Marlene said, her voice soft and steady. “Just breathe, okay?”

“He’s fine?” Sirius asked like the answer would have changed in the last thirty seconds. “He’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Marlene nodded, “yeah he’s– he’s fine, Sirius. Hey, come on. He’s fine. I promise.” 

“Okay,” Sirius choked out, and he realized he was crying. Jesus christ, he thought to himself. You hardly know the guy and you’re crying over him? “Okay. I just– I didn’t hear anything, so I thought– god, sorry.” He wiped his eyes furiously. Harry reached for his face, grabbing at his jaw, and he tilted his head up.

“He– oh. He, uh, he lost the receipt,” Marlene explained, clearly flustered by Sirius’ state, and Sirius blinked at her.

“What?” 

“You’re… you wrote your number on a receipt, and then a lot… happened. And he couldn’t find it.” 

“Oh,” Sirius breathed simply. 

“Yeah,” Marlene murmured. “I didn’t have your number either, so… god, I’m sorry, Sirius, I didn’t know you’d be so worried.”

“No, I’m– I’m sorry, it’s just–” he wiped his eyes again roughly, leaning back in the chair. “I– sorry, I- I overreacted, it’s not– you had no reason to think–”

“Stop,” Marlene said, and the command sort of jarred Sirius into breathing again, which made him realize he hadn’t really been breathing before. “It’s okay,” she added gently. “But he’s fine. Honest. Cross my heart.” Sirius nodded, sucking in a breath, and it was hitting him how entirely ridiculous all of this was.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Yeah, okay.” He groaned, leaning back and pressing the heel of one palm into his eye. “God, I’m– I swear I’m not, like, some crazy possessive–”

“Sirius–” 

“I just, I thought something bad happened, because I didn’t hear anything, and I– two of my best friends died like, a few months ago, and I’m really just– I thought–” he was rambling, and then he realized what he said, and he shuddered to a stop.

“Oh, shit,” Marlene sighed. “Sirius, I’m… I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s…” he really hadn’t meant to say that. It sort of just slipped out. And now it was out, and it was hanging in the air between them, and Sirius had to poke it and hope it didn’t pop. ”It was this big car accident, and I– I didn’t hear anything.” 

“Hey– breathe, Sirius,” Marlene murmured, and he realized he was seeing stars again. A whole adult person really shouldn’t have to be reminded to breathe this often. “I’m sorry. I should have found a way to get in touch with you. I didn’t realize…” Sirius shook his head, tilting his head back so he could get more air into his lungs. 

“It was completely irrational,” Sirius groaned, and he was only realizing it now. Of course Remus was fine. He was fine. God, he was a mess. Oh, that guy I asked on a date hasn’t talked to me in three days? Guess he’s fuckin’ dead. Christ. Regulus probably thought he was insufferable pacing around his apartment the way he had been. “You didn’t know. Any normal guy would just assume he got stood up, right?” Harry fussed in his arms, wriggling to sit on his knee and patting Sirius on the cheek. “I know, kiddo,” Sirius murmured, bouncing him slightly. 

“Well… look, Remus wanted me to tell you he’s okay. Obviously. He got sick. And he was in the hospital for a couple days, but he’s coming back tomorrow, or maybe the next day. I’m trying to get him to stay home another day, but he– he gets stir crazy sometimes.” 

“He was in the hospital?” 

“Sirius, I promise, he’s fine. He’ll explain, alright? It’s not really my place.” 

“Right, yeah, sorry,” Sirius breathed, shaking himself. 

“Here, put your number in my phone,” she said, passing her cell to him. “Easier than a receipt.” Sirius laughed dryly, balancing Harry against his chest while he typed. 

“I thought it’d be cute,” he muttered.

“It was cute,” Marlene smiled at him. “I’ll send you Remus’ number, and I’ll tell him to text you. Maybe you and him can see each other. Try to stop him from coming into work, yeah? If he comes in here with those puppy dog eyes, I don’t think I’ll be able to send him home.” 

“Sure,” Sirius said, completely unconfident that he’d be able to say no to those puppy dog eyes, either , and he passed her phone back. 

“I, um…” Marlene started, but she paused, holding her phone in her hands. “I’m sorry about your friends.” Sirius’ heart ached. 

“Me too,” he said. “God, now I’m– ugh, christ. This is embarrassing. Sorry. I overreacted.” 

“You thought the worst had happened,” Marlene shrugged. “It means you care.” Don’t tell Remus, he thought about saying, but that would be even more pathetic.

“It means I’m paranoid,” Sirius sighed. He looked down at Harry, who stared back at him, huge green eyes blinking. After a moment, Harry reached up and grabbed onto Sirius’ bottom lip, and he winced, pulling his face away. “Christ, mate,” he muttered. “Paranoid and a mess, eh?”

“Well, Remus is a bit of a mess, too,” Marlene laughed. “Maybe you’ll cancel each other out.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Sirius frowned, and she laughed again. 

“You want coffee? On the house,” she offered, standing up. 

“I can pay,” Sirius smiled, standing as well, and she made a sound like psh-awwww.

“Well, if you insist,” she said dramatically. 

***

They met at the park. 

Sirius figured it was a good balance, plenty of places to sit if they wanted, or paths to wander while they talked. He still wasn’t sure exactly why Remus needed his forearm crutch, only that it had something to do with a chronic illness– thanks to the sticker– and maybe with his head…? He figured it wasn’t his place to ask. He’d already embarrassed himself by staring at him the first day he realized he had a crutch. He went red with shame every time he thought about it. But he figured places to sit might be a good thing to keep in mind.

But regardless, ever since then, he admittedly watched Remus a bit more closely. There were little things he didn’t really notice before. When he walked, he favored his right side over his left. He had a twitch sometimes, a little jerk in his neck and shoulder, or sometimes in his arm. Sometimes, his eyes would shake a little, and he’d have to blink a few times to refocus. None of these things, when entered into Google, produced any definitive results. And now Marlene had said he’d been sick. Sirius really didn’t know if that meant normal sick, like a stomach bug, or sick sick, like something big. And he really didn’t know if he was allowed to ask… 

Sirius realized, as soon as he saw Remus approaching, that some part of him still held onto that intense, irrational fear that something terrible had happened to him. But Remus was walking toward him, very alive , and he couldn’t help but grin. Remus waved at him, and they walked toward each other. When they got close, Harry seemed to recognize Remus’ face, because he started gurgling and giggling and Sirius could see his hands reaching from inside the stroller. 

“Well, hello,” Remus laughed as he approached, peering down at Harry. “Hi!” Harry continued to coo, grabbing onto Remus’ finger with his whole hand, and Remus smiled at him before looking up at Sirius. “Hi,” he added more softly. Remus looked tired. There were bags under his eyes and a small bruise at his temple, but other than that, he was… fine. Totally fine. Mostly fine. Sirius found himself desperately hoping that Marlene hadn’t told Remus about his little moment at the coffee shop the day before. 

“Hi,” Sirius replied. He wanted to hug him. Was that weird? Probably. They hadn’t even gone on a date yet. Was this a date? “Are you–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Remus interrupted, and then closed his mouth with a click. “Sorry. I cut you off.” 

“No, you– please don’t… don’t apologize,” he said. 

“I missed our date,” Remus sighed, frowning, and a hundred thoughts went through Sirius’ head ranging from that should be the last thing you’re worried about to aw, that’s what you’re worried about? He shook himself. 

“No worries,” Sirius said (he had, in fact, gone through many worries, but Remus really didn’t need to know the details of Sirius’ anxious spiral). “Marlene said you were in the hospital?” Sirius asked, and Remus winced. They turned and started walking down the path. Harry babbled in the stroller.

“Yeah,” he said, almost sheepishly, like he was embarrassed.

“What happened?” Sirius regretted the question almost instantly. “Or– I mean– you don’t have to tell me, of course,” he blurted out, shaking his head. “I just meant– are you alright?” Remus blinked at him for a moment, and then he furrowed his brow like he was thinking very hard about what he was about to say. 

“I had a seizure,” Remus said finally, and Sirius opened his mouth but found he had no words to say about that. “It’s normal for me,” Remus added quickly. “I’ve got epilepsy. But I had a few, all in a row, and the last one went on for a while, and, well… Marlene had to call an ambulance, and I was admitted for a few days until they stopped. It was sort of a whole mess,” he explained.

“Wow,” Sirius breathed. He had a thousand questions, and he knew that each and every one of them was probably invasive or ignorant. 

“Yeah,” Remus sighed, looking dejected. “I don’t remember a lot, honestly. And then I didn’t have my phone charger at the hospital, and I couldn’t find your number, so I couldn’t call you to tell you I wasn’t just standing you up.” Sirius laughed, not completely intentionally. 

“I figured something had happened, honestly,” he shook his head. Something was an understatement. “Would’ve been real awkward if you stood me up just to have me show up again first thing in the morning.” 

“You’d still show up to the café the next day even if you thought I’d stood you up?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“With a dozen roses,” Sirius nodded, and Remus laughed. 

“Well, I appreciate that,” he said quietly. “Thanks for… well, I thought you might be upset with me.”

“You were in the hospital,” Sirius emphasized. “I’d have to be a real dick to be pissed at you over that. Ope–” he glanced down at Harry over the sun visor. “Sorry mate. No bad words. Don’t repeat that.” Harry went a bit cross eyed looking up at him, and then he stuck his tongue out a little, and Sirius took this to mean that’s quite alright, Sirius, don’t worry about it. “We can sit, by the way, if you– if you want.” Remus glanced down at his crutch briefly before shaking his head. 

“Nah, I’d like a nice walk, honestly. Been sitting around a lot,” he explained. 

“Sure,” Sirius nodded. “Beautiful day for it,” he added, suddenly completely at a loss for things to say. Luckily, Remus wasn’t.

“So, does this count as our date, then?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Sirius, and Sirius nearly tripped. 

“Er… it– it can?” Sirius replied. “If you want it to?” 

“I mean, a long, romantic walk through the park, beautiful day …” Remus shrugged, smirking, and Sirius felt his cheeks go a little hot. “Sounds like a date to me.” 

“Alright, then,” Sirius smiled. “It’s a date.” Remus hid a smile, looking up and away at the scenery around them. It was only now that Sirius realized Remus was taller than him. By a fair bit, too. The counter made him look shorter, as well as the fact that Remus was often sitting, but Sirius was looking up to talk to him. 

“Can I be honest?” Remus asked, and Sirius raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t really expecting you to ask me out,” he admitted. 

“Really?” Sirius gawked. “I didn’t think I was being very subtle.” 

“Well– I dunno,” Remus said sheepishly. “I kinda thought you were dating that woman you brought to the bistro,” he shrugged. Sirius laughed at the thought. 

“Oh my god,” he shook his head. “No. God no. Mary’s–” Lily’s friend, he wanted to say. “She’s just a friend. She helps me with Harry a lot, and I wanted to return the favor since she won’t let me pay her for babysitting.” 

“Ah,” Remus said, a blush creeping up his neck. 

“Jealous?” Sirius teased, and Remus blushed harder. 

“Look, you can’t just show up in a nice suit like that with a woman on your arm and expect a man to– to not–” he was flustered, waving a hand vaguely. “I feel like you did it on purpose,” he huffed. 

“On purpose?” Sirius laughed. “I didn’t even know you worked there!” 

“Likely story,” Remus rolled his eyes. 

“Well, you’re the one who made me all swoony on day one,” Sirius retorted. “No reason for someone to know what I mean when I say Sirius, like the star. And then you go and rattle off about the Dog Star and brightest in the sky, you flirt.” 

“I wasn’t flirting!” Remus replied. “I was just being a nerd! I hadn’t even looked at you yet.” 

“And then you did, and you fell madly in love?” Sirius batted his eyes, and Remus scoffed. 

“No, then I looked at Harry, and Harry stuck his tongue out at me, and then I fell madly in love,” he said. Sirius leaned over the front of the stroller, and Harry looked up at him. He had his fist in his mouth and he was drooling profusely. When he saw Sirius, he held his fist out to him.

“Nice,” Sirius said, bumping his fist against Harry’s. Remus stifled a laugh. “He’s a real pickup artist,” Sirius shrugged. “You should see all the little old ladies he’s got fawning over him when we go to the grocery store.” 

“Man, I thought I cornered the market on little old ladies,” Remus muttered dejectedly, kicking a rock out of his way. 

“Well, you’ll have to step up your game, I suppose,” Sirius smirked. “I’ll warn you, his dad was a real catch, too. He got his charm from the best.” Harry burped. Sirius looked up to find Remus watching him, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“His dad–?” he cut himself off, blinking a few times before he looked away. “Sorry, um– nevermind,” he shook his head. Sirius frowned, but then it dawned on him what he’d actually said. 

“Oh,” he murmured quietly. “You– oh. Harry’s– he’s not my son.” 

“I didn’t want to pry,” Remus said, looking down at Harry’s stroller.

“It’s sort of complicated, I guess.” 

“You don’t need to explain,” Remus added. “If you don’t want to.” 

“No, I… well, this is the get to know each other part, right?” Sirius shrugged. “I’m his godfather. His dad was–” Sirius’ words got stuck in his throat for a moment. He’d rehearsed this, if he was being honest. Telling all this to Remus. These were the two hurdles to dating him, weren’t they? New baby and dead friends. Christ, that was dark. James would have laughed, though, Sirius was sure of it. “His dad was my best friend,” Sirius went on. “And his mum, Lily, she was… we were really close, too. We all went to school together. They died five months ago.” Almost half a year. It didn’t feel like it. It felt like an eternity, and also like it was yesterday. “Harry was only 19 weeks.” 19 weeks. That’s how long Harry knew his mum and dad. That’s all the time he ever got. 19 weeks, six days. Almost 20. Almost.

“Oh,” Remus breathed like it was punched out of him. “God, Sirius, that’s… I’m so sorry.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius rasped. He cleared his throat. “It was– hard. It is hard.”

“Yeah,” Remus parroted. “So you’re taking care of Harry now?” Sirius nodded. 

“I’ve got loads of help,” he smiled a bit. “Lily and James had no shortage of friends. And my family’s been great– my brother, Regulus, sees him the most, honestly. We never really used to hang out, but ever since… he’s always over, now.” 

“Regulus?” Remus asked. “Is everyone in your family named after stars?” Sirius chuckled. 

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” he asked, and Remus raised his eyebrows. “Well, there’s me– Sirius Orion–” He saw the corner of Remus’ mouth twitch into a smile. “Regulus Arcturus– don’t tell him I told you his middle name, he’ll kill me. My cousin Andromeda, her sister Bellatrix… Narcissa wasn’t named after a star, but she named her son Draco, so maybe she was trying to make up for it?” 

“Wow,” Remus laughed in disbelief. 

“Know about all of those?” 

“What is this, a quiz?” Remus asked. Sirius waved his hand as if to say, go on, and Remus sighed. “Alright, let’s see. There’s you,” he mirrored Sirius’ words, “Sirius is the Dog Star– we’ve been over this– and Orion is a constellation named after the hunter in Greek myth… Regulus is the heart of the lion constellation, Arcturus…” Remus frowned, scratching his head. “It’s in something in the north. Hold on. Oh! Boötes. The herdsman.” 

“Christ,” Sirius breathed. 

“Andromeda is a constellation as well, the chained woman,” Remus added, and Sirius snorted. Remus looked down at him. 

“Sorry, sorry, that’s– it’s funny. Andromeda ran away from home,” he explained. “She wanted to marry this guy, Teddy, who our family hated. It was a whole thing.” 

“Hm,” Remus hummed. “Good for her.” Sirius smiled. “What’s left?” 

“Bellatrix and Draco.” 

“Right. Bellatrix is actually in the constellation Orion, so that’s easy. And Draco is the dragon.” 

“I want you to know that you could have been talking out of your ass that entire time and I’d have no idea,” Sirius said sweetly, and Remus laughed, shaking his head. 

“Well, I wasn’t.” 

“I’m sure,” Sirius mused. “How come you know all that?” 

“Mum liked to take me stargazing when I was a kid,” Remus shrugged. “And then I just kept up the hobby, I suppose. Guess we were destined to meet.” Sirius was about to reply when Remus’ crutch got caught in a crack in the path and he stumbled, reaching out to catch Sirius’ arm when his left leg folded under him.

“Shit,” he blurted out, hopping on his right leg to keep his balance. Sirius braced his arm under Remus’ elbow, keeping him upright as he got his feet under him. “I mean– uh… crap. Sorry Harry,” he muttered. Harry blew a raspberry at him. 

“Alright?” Sirius asked. Remus nodded. 

“Yeah,” Remus sighed. He shook out his left leg. “I’ve been a bit more wobbly since Saturday, is all. Makes you kind of sore, you know?” 

“The, er… seizures?” Sirius asked. Remus blinked at him for a moment, but then he nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

“But you’re alright now?”

“Probably,” Remus shrugged, and Sirius’ eyebrows pinched together. “Well– I mean, I’ve got to go in to see my doctor again twice this week. I’ve got more testing.” 

“Testing for what?” Sirius asked hesitantly. Remus didn’t seem to mind questions.

“When I get seizures, I stop breathing,” he explained, and Sirius went a little cold. “Not fully, but… enough, you know? When they’re just two or three minutes, it’s not a huge deal, but when they’re longer, or when I have a lot of them, it’s… well, the brain doesn’t like to go very long without oxygen.” 

“I suppose not,” Sirius breathed. 

“So I’ve got to go get some tests done to make sure everything’s still… in the right place.” That was vague, but Sirius wasn’t sure he wanted all the details. “I feel fine right now, but it’s hard to tell sometimes if something’s different.”

“It sounds… scary, for you,” Sirius said hesitantly. “Is that rude? I just– not breathing sounds…” 

“It is,” Remus shrugged. “Scary,” he clarified, “not rude. They usually aren’t that bad.” Remus bit the inside of his cheek, glancing over at Sirius for a moment before continuing. “Look, if… if this is the get to know each other part, then– I guess I feel like you should know, I’m– well, I’m not a picture of health,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… you know. Complicated.” 

“I’m good with complicated,” Sirius said. “I mean, I’ve got a baby now, and I think I’m doing a right well job of it.”

“I’d say so,” Remus nodded. “I just– I want you to know what you’re getting into, I suppose,” he added quietly. “I mean, relationships require… stability , right? And I’m… wobbly.” 

“Wobbly?” Sirius echoed, holding back a smile. 

“Yeah,” Remus shrugged. He was training his gaze out in front of them, very intentionally not looking at Sirius. “And, you know, it makes it… difficult. I think. For some people. And I’ve really never… well, Marlene is probably my only long lasting relationship aside from my mother, so…”

“You’ve never dated before?” Sirius asked, dumbfounded. Remus glanced at him and then back forward again. 

“Not really,” he said bashfully. “No.” 

Sirius found this immensely shocking. The second he’d seen Remus, he’d been sort of star-struck. Remus was sweet, warm in the eyes, olive skin dotted with freckles, hair messy in a soft sort of way, and when he rattled off information about Sirius’ constellation in that smooth, easy voice, Sirius could hardly muster a response. The thought that no one else had made a move was… impossible. The thought occurred to him that Remus might have pushed people away the same way he was trying to do with Sirius, now. 

“Sounds like you’re trying to talk me out of something,” Sirius replied, raising his eyebrows. 

“I’m not– I’m saying, it’s complicated. For me. Being with me.” 

“Remus, I’ve got a literal baby.” 

“That’s not…”

“Complicated?” 

Remus frowned, and his jaw tensed. Sirius backtracked. 

“Sorry. I’m not trying to make fun,” he shook his head. “I can learn. I’m a fast learner. If you think it’s complicated, then tell me how it works, and I’ll figure it out.” Remus looked at him, a puzzled sort of expression crossing his face, and Sirius held his gaze. I mean it, he wanted to say. I thought you were dead for literally two days and it wrecked me, he wanted to say, so let's give it a shot now that you’re alive. “That’s if you can also get over the whole I have a baby thing.”

Remus blinked, and then laughed, and then shook his head. 

“I’d consider Harry more of a pro than a con,” he said, and Sirius grinned at him. 

“So what do I need to know?” Sirius asked. Remus blew out a breath, looking up at the sky as he considered where to start. 

“Well… I get seizures,” he began. 

“Right.” 

“And I’m wobbly.”

“As we’ve established.” 

“And I had an accident when I was five, and my head got crushed between a car door and the metal part of a headrest and cracked my skull open.” Sirius stumbled, catching himself on Harry’s stroller. 

“Jesus christ,” he breathed, the breath thoroughly punched out of him, because Jesus Christ. And then bile rose in his throat, because now he was picturing Harry in the same way, and then he was picturing Lily and James in the same way, and he gripped the handle of the stroller so tight his knuckles turned white. 

"Sirius?" Remus asked, and Sirius forced himself to breathe in. 

"Sorry," he choked out. "Sorry, it's not– it's just that that's how– that's how James and Lily died." He swallowed hard. "Car crash."

"Oh," Remus murmured softly. 

"It just… took me off guard, is all," Sirius shook his head. He felt like he was still catching his breath. 

"Sorry," Remus said, "I didn't know."

"I didn't tell you," Sirius pointed out. When he looked at Remus this time, his eyes lingered on the little pale scars that dotted his face, the longer one that went over the bridge of his nose, one he hadn't noticed before that went along his hairline, and now he had all the pieces to make the puzzle. Some of him wished he didn't. "I didn't– god, sorry," he muttered, wiping a hand over his face, trying to shove aside the image of their faces, and then the image of Harry's face, because he had literally just asked Remus to tell him about himself, and he really didn’t want him to stop.

"I, um... I won't mention it again," Remus suggested, and Sirius felt guilt pool in his stomach. 

"No, it's– it's fine." It wasn't. 

"No, really," Remus insisted gently. "It's not the important part. Really." 

"Okay," Sirius rasped, clearing his throat. "Yeah. Sorry. You– um... continue?" he asked, and Remus breathed a laugh. 

"Okay," he said. 

He didn't mention the car accident again, true to his word. Instead, he talked about the recovery, the surgeries to repair his skull, the physical therapy. He pointed out the scar at his hairline and another one at the top left side of his head, and one at his collarbone, all surgical. He didn't talk about the other ones. He told Sirius about another scar that was at his hip, and one that went down the side of his knee, and Sirius wondered, trying not to blush, if he'd ever see those. 

Remus told him about the seizures, using words Sirius didn't know, like tonic and myoclonic and atonic, and he explained what they meant, using some interesting hand motions to assist him in his explanation.

"Tonic is like, mostly in the legs," Remus clenched his fist tight, shaking it slightly. "I get those at night sometimes. And clonic is muscle spasms. That's the twitch," Remus added, "the... you know." He gestured vaguely to his neck. All of these words sounded very similar to Sirius, and he made a note to look them all up again when he got home.

He learned that Remus used to get myoclonic seizures right after the accident, which were like his brain shut off and he dropped like a rock, and he had to wear this ridiculous padded helmet (his words, not Sirius). He said he didn't get those anymore. And then there were absence seizures, which came in clusters, and which he did still get.

"If I miss work, that's usually why," he explained. 

And grand mals were the worst, he said. The term was a little outdated, because the right term was tonic-clonic, but that's what people knew them by for a while, and all of the "-onics" blurred together at a certain point.That's what landed him in the hospital over the weekend. If they went on for too long, he could stop breathing. Afterwards, he said he felt like the world was pressing down on him from all sides, like he was one big bruise. 

"I get an aura before those," Remus said. "I taste metal, and I sort of just... I know something's coming. It's hard to explain." Sirius nodded, making a note of this in his head.

"How long did it take you to learn all those words?" Sirius asked. "I'm... trying to tell them all apart," he admitted. Remus laughed. 

"I learned them early," he shrugged. "We had to track them. I mean, I still do. But it’s easier now.”

The crutch, Sirius learned, was largely unrelated to Remus' epilepsy, and was more a result of a combination of damage to his hip, femur, and knee, as well as a balance issue from the brain injury. His left hand was also apparently mostly numb, though he could feel the side of his palm and the tips of his third and fourth finger. This, for some reason, made Sirius want to hold his hand– an impulse that he shoved aside very quickly. 

"The three of us are an interesting equation, huh?" Remus said when he was done. Sirius had questions, but he didn't ask them. Not yet. He figured Remus had spent enough time detailing his long medical history for one day. 

"Seems like we all add up, though," Sirius smirked, and Remus snorted. 

"God, that was nerdy," he shook his head. 

"You made the math joke in the first place!" 

"It wasn't a joke," Remus defended himself, "more of an astute observation. We're objectively..."

"Complicated?" Sirius supplied, and Remus sighed. 

"Well I was going to say complex , but yeah," he said. 

"Is... is that a math joke?"

"Yes," Remus replied. "Complex numbers?" Sirius looked at him blankly, and Remus hid a smile. "Not important." 

"Complex is fine, too," Sirius added. "For the record. I can do complex. And complicated. And– well, I mean, if you can also do complicated, you know, with Harry and all, then maybe... er..." Sirius had run out of words, and he was sort of breathlessly waving his hand in front of him.

"You were all smooth and confident when you asked me out the first time," Remus pointed out, and Sirius blushed hard. "Second date's a little harder?"

"I rehearsed that for weeks ," Sirius groaned. "I didn't really prepare for– frankly I didn't think I'd get this far." Remus laughed. 

"Weeks?" he asked softly, and Sirius blushed even more. "Wait. Is that why you started coming in every day?"

"Wh– well– it– it was certainly a factor," Sirius admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, and Remus laughed again, tipping his head back a little.

"I'd never have the courage to make the first move, honestly," Remus mused, "so it's a good thing one of us had some initiative. My turn, though, right?" 

"Your... turn?" 

"Would you like to go out again?" Remus asked, and Sirius felt his stomach flip. "Maybe we could actually go to dinner this time. I can try not to miss it." Sirius blinked at him for a moment, his mouth part-way open, and then he clicked it closed and cleared his throat. 

"I– I'd like that," he said, and Remus smiled at him, his ears going a bit pink. 

"It's a date," he said quietly, like it was a little celebration, and Sirius felt like there were fireworks going off in his head.

***

“So what’s the Moony story?” 

“The…? Oh!” Remus exclaimed, and then laughed. “It’s so dumb.” Sirius raised his eyebrows, and Remus sighed. “So… alright. My full name is Remus Lupin, Right?” Sirius had, in fact, only very recently learned this. He had also learned that Remus’ middle name was John.

“Right.” 

“ Lupus is a constellation in the southern sky. It’s latin for wolf. And Remus comes from Roman mythology– in the story, 'Remus' is raised by wolves with his brother, Romulus.”

“I thought it sounded familiar,” Sirius nodded, and then paused. “Wait. Hold on. Lupin is a constellation?” 

“Lupus,” Remus corrected, “but yes.” 

“And you never thought to mention this?” Sirius asked, astounded. “My whole family is star themed, and you never thought to mention this?”

“I was waiting for you to figure it out,” Remus admitted, holding back a smile. Sirius made a dramatic little half cough, crossing his arms, and Remus laughed, continuing. “Right, so… you know. Remus and Lupus… Remus Lupin, it’s essentially just, er… Wolfy McWolf. There’s sort of a theme.”

“Oh,” Sirius said. “So you’re–” Sirius laughed, turning this information over in his head. “You’re moon -y,” he put the pieces together. “Hah!”

“Marlene came up with it.”

“Of course she did. It’s perfectly ridiculous.” 

“I’m telling her you said that.”

“Good. It’s a compliment,” Sirius smiled. “Moony,” he added dreamily. It felt good. And it felt even better because of the way Remus blushed when he said it, blinking and looking away.

***

On their third date, they held hands. 

Well, that was a stretch. 

On their third date, Remus held onto Sirius’ arm, mostly because he was having more trouble than usual balancing on account of all the lights and swirling colors and wavy walkways of the aquarium. It was convenient how many cute little outing ideas Sirius could propose, using Harry as an excuse. Oh, Harry would so very much enjoy an aquarium. Oh, Harry would adore the museum. Oh, Harry loves the park. 

Sirius supposed, though, that he wasn’t being very subtle about his own enjoyment of their date location of choice, because here and there Sirius found himself absolutely staring at the stingrays or the jellyfish or the whale sharks, and when he’d look up, finally, he’d find Remus staring at him. And then they’d blink at each other, and blush, and glance away like kids trying to pretend they weren’t looking. 

Thus far, Sirius had learned several things about Remus– first, and most importantly, his favorite fish was the moon jellyfish, because of course it was. And then there were the less pressing things, like how his apartment didn’t allow dogs, but he always wanted one, a big one, something scruffy; or how Marlene actually owned the coffee shop and had inherited it from her parents, and how she gave Remus his first real job (and how she insisted that she didn’t give it to him, he applied and earned it, which Sirius thought must genuinely be true because Marlene didn’t seem the type to hand anything out); or how he didn’t really like movies, but he loved music, and his mum had a record player growing up and taught him how vinyls worked with all the grooves working together to make music. 

Remus liked knowing how things worked. He liked exhausting all possible knowledge about things, squeezing every last bit of information out and soaking it up like a sponge, like it was a hobby just to learn. He was saving up to go back to university, he said, and he thought he might qualify for a grant, but the process was overwhelming, he admitted. Upon hearing this, Sirius had gone home, searched up some information, and then had immediately become confused. 

And Sirius had to assume that Remus was learning some things about him, as well, but frankly, Sirius felt like every time he opened his mouth his brain just went on autopilot, letting him ramble on about this or that while the conscious, much more insistent part of his brain was occupied by staring at Remus’ eyes, or his jaw, or his collarbones. He was fairly sure he’d said something about his work fixing old cars, and probably something about his brother, and maybe something about how he’d never gone to university to begin with, so Remus really shouldn’t feel so bad about dropping out the first time. 

But it was on that third date, the date where they held hands (okay, Sirius knew that it didn’t really count, but he hadn’t held any of Remus yet, and he desperately wanted to, so the universe had to give him at least this), that Sirius accidentally mentioned his uncle Alphard, making some quippy, offhanded joke about his inheritance that he’d usually only make to Regulus, and Remus had given him a puzzled look that gave him the urge to explain.

“Oh, well… Alphard is– was– uh… my uncle. And he–” Sirius found himself rather embarrassed to admit this, as he always was, because it felt sort of the same as winning the lottery without spending the money to enter it in the first place. “When he died, he left me… well, everything.”  

“Oh,” Remus said, his eyes widening a little. “Wow.” 

“Yeah. I had met him, like, three times. Max. And I’m sure every time I was just insufferable , because I was a teenager and all moody and sad and,” Sirius waved a hand vaguely, and Remus seemed to understand. 

“So why’d he leave it all to you?” Remus asked. Sirius realized a bit late that this wasn’t a particularly happy conversation to have, and he bit the inside of his lip. 

"It's a bit of a downer," Sirius warned. Remus looked at him for a second. 

"Oh," he said. "We can find somewhere quieter to sit, if you want?" There were moments when Remus took Sirius fully off guard, and this was one of them; the fact that he was more concerned for Sirius' comfort in telling the story than his own in hearing it. Sirius melted a little. 

"S- sure," he managed. "Yeah. Let's... yeah." Remus smiled at him, and they wound up finding a little bench out around the side of one of the tanks. Harry was knocked out, sleeping soundly, and Sirius moved the pram back and forth in tiny swaying motions. As they had walked over, Sirius had told him what little he knew about Alphard– a bit of a black sheep, rebellious at a time when no one else in the family had been, and importantly, that he had been essentially disowned when he wrote Sirius into his will as the sole recipient to his inheritance. 

"Damn," Remus said at that last point, right as they were sitting down. He leaned his crutch up on the wall next to them. “So… why did he do it then?” Sirius took a breath. 

"I ran away from home when I was sixteen," Sirius said. When he said it, he wasn’t quite able to keep the pride from his voice. "I took Regulus with me. He was fourteen, and I don't think he really understood why at the time, but he gets it now, I think." 

"Wow," Remus breathed. 

“I think Alphard was proud of me for that. For doing something he had wanted to do, and for getting Reg out, too. Andromeda was an adult when she left the family, but I was just a kid, so… I guess he wanted to make sure I made it out and stayed out.” Sirius said this with a bit of discomfort in his voice. He didn’t really like talking about it, if he was being honest, not because of the situation itself, but because of the money. It was a lot of money. Like, a lot of money. Like, Sirius probably wouldn't have to work another day in his life if he didn't want to money. And it was all just sitting there, waiting for him.

“You don’t seem… thrilled…” Remus said carefully. 

“I dunno,” Sirius sighed. “It kind of feels like cheating, I guess. Andromeda had to crawl her way into financial independence, and people work their whole lives just to get by, and… I’ve been trying to pay it forward, because I think Alphard would have wanted me to. I’m putting a lot of it away for Harry when he’s older, if he wants to go to school or something. Get married. Buy a house. Whatever.” 

“I think that’s sweet,” Remus said softly, and Sirius looked over at him. “I mean, your uncle left it to you so he knew you’d be able to take care of yourself, right? And now that means taking care of Harry, too,” he added, smiling at Harry who was still sleeping peacefully in the stroller. 

“That’s true,” Sirius shrugged. “I bet he would have liked to meet him. He died only a year after we got out.” 

"Why?” Remus asked, and then shook himself a bit. “I mean, why did you leave? If– If you don't mind me asking," he added. 

"I don't mind," Sirius assured him. Open book time, Sirius thought. "Our parents were just... I mean, they were awful," he breathed a laugh, but he knew it wasn’t funny. "Super traditional type. Way overbearing, controlling. It... it was like a cage, sometimes. Most times, really," he explained. "And I guess for a while I tried to focus them on me, because I didn't want Regulus to–" 

Sirius thought of Regulus for a moment, then. His brother never liked talking about this. He didn't like people knowing. Telling Remus almost felt like a betrayal, in a way, but then again, Sirius wanted him to know. And if Remus was going to be around for a while, which Sirius sincerely hoped he would be, then he wanted him to know even more. He glanced over at Remus, who was waiting patiently, and he sighed. 

"Okay, listen, I'm– Okay. I won't sugarcoat it. They were pretty abusive." Remus, to his credit, didn't really react much to that aside from a shift in his eyes, a slight pursing of his lips, but he let Sirius continue. "So I thought if I acted out, they wouldn't go after Reg." There was a but there, a pretty big one, and Remus seemed to understand where it was going. 

"Oh," he said softly. "They did." 

"Yeah. So– when they did, I had enough. And I left. We left."

Sirius remembered the day in bits and pieces. He wasn't quite sure if he would rather remember it in whole or if it was better that it was foggy. There was something about a phone call home, something about a rumor that one of the Black brothers had kissed a boy at school, something about disgust. Orion had Sirius pinned by his shirt collar against the wall of their kitchen, and then Regulus stepped in, and said it was him that the rumor was about, and then Walburga's palm cracked against his little brother's face. 

It was sort of blurry after that. 

James had told Sirius, much later, when he learned that Sirius didn't remember it, that Sirius had shown up at their door with a black eye, gripping Regulus' hand so tightly that his fingers were white, and he wouldn't let go for hours. 

“Where did you go?" Remus asked hesitantly. Sirius couldn't help but smile. 

"We went to James' place, actually," he answered. "His parents are... I mean, they're like my mum and dad, now." Fleamont and Euphemia had welcomed the brothers into their home with all the care and grace of saints. "And after James and Lily–" Sirius faltered and cleared his throat. "They, uh, they really made sure I knew it, you know? They made sure we knew that they were there for us, and we were there for them, and it was just... I'd never had that before."

And then they were holding hands. Actually holding hands. Or, rather, Remus was holding Sirius' hand, and he was rubbing a little circle into it with his thumb, and Sirius realized sort of absentmindedly that his cheeks were wet. He wiped his eyes roughly.

“So, you know,” Sirius forced out, an attempt at a casual recovery from his current waterworks, “here we are.” 

“Here you are,” Remus smiled at him, and his voice was low and soft and gentle. Sirius squeezed his hand, helplessly smiling back.

***

Sirius thought, briefly, that he missed the way Remus used to say his order. “Medium, extra-shot, vanilla oat milk latte, for Sirius.” Sure, Marlene or Evan still said it, but it lacked the same… oomph. When they said it, it was like, ‘here’s your coffee . ’ But when Remus said it, it was like, ‘here’s your coffee, Sirius .’ Like, for you. Like, just for you.  

He missed it, he thought, but again, only briefly, because now when he walked in, Remus would perk up, straighten his back, smile, and go oh, hi! or Sirius! or he’d just grin, and then bite his tongue to try to stop grinning, and then blush, and then punch numbers into the register to try to stop blushing. He’d make the coffee, and Sirius would walk parallel to him along the counter until they reached the end, and they’d talk about nonsense. Remus would hand him his coffee while offhandedly making a comment about the stars that were visible that night or how someone at the bistro had wiped out slipping on spilled wine or how Marlene had finally asked out the girl she was into after months, and this would go on until another customer came in and Remus had to actually do his job. 

There was no more medium, extra-shot, vanilla oat milk latte, for Sirius.  

That was okay, though, Sirius thought. 

And besides, there was still have a nice day, Sirius, and you too, Remus, and now it was a little bit more… well, it was a little bit more.

***

Sirius supposed it had to happen at some point. After all, two men, sitting together, one arm slung over the other’s shoulders, and a baby between them? It was bound to happen. Destined, perhaps. And it still left Sirius with his mouth hanging half open when it did. 

“Oh my god,” the lady had said. “Well, aren’t you just adorable?” She leaned over Harry’s stroller, and Harry stared at her with an iconic disinterest that only an infant was truly capable of. It said, I can’t even talk yet, and I already don’t want to talk to you. Sirius had just smiled at her politely, as he did every time this happened, because honestly, yeah, Harry was adorable. “And those eyes!” That was also valid, he supposed. Harry had Lily’s eyes. “You’ve got two very lovely daddies, hm?” 

And, well, that was interesting, wasn’t it? 

She tutted, satisfied, and told them have a nice day, and made another noise like awww, and then she was off, continuing her run through the park, and so Sirius and Remus were left just blinking after her. 

“Oh my god,” Remus said, and halfway through the sentiment he laughed a little. “She didn’t even say hello!”  

“People love babies,” Sirius shrugged, checking in on Harry, and yup, still scowling.

“She thought we were dads,” Remus giggled. Sirius felt a little warm. “Like… co - dad- ing.”

“ Dad -ing?” Sirius snorted. “Do you mean co- parenting ?” 

“That, yeah,” Remus grinned. Sirius half expected him to turn his nose up at the concept, but Remus leaned forward a bit, staring after the woman like he was giddy knowing the mistake had been made. It made something swell in Sirius’ chest. “Guess it’s not a far stretch,” Remus sighed, leaning back again.

“Oh?”

“Well, I mean, we are together, and we’ve got a baby with us, after all,” Remus shrugged. He was sitting close to Sirius, Remus with his arm draped over the back of the bench and half against Sirius’ back, and when he spoke, he sort of leaned into Sirius’ side, and there was something about the words we and us and together that made Sirius’ heart leap into his throat. “What?” Remus asked, and Sirius realized he had just been sitting there staring at Remus for what was probably several long seconds. 

“Er–” Sirius cleared his throat. “Nothing. Well–” he looked down at Harry, who was staring very intently at Remus and waving his hands up and down just slightly. “Together?” Sirius asked, looking up again. Remus blinked at him for a moment, and Sirius saw him slowly process what he’d said, and then swallow, and then bite the inside of his cheek. 

“I… well, I meant, we look like we’re together,” Remus stammered, rubbing his hands together. Sirius had noticed that he did that sometimes when he was nervous, his right hand cupping the side of his left. 

“Right,” Sirius nodded. His mouth was a little dry. “We can–”

“I wouldn’t–” They both began talking at the same time. “Sorry,” Remus said sheepishly, and Sirius shook his head. 

“No, you– you go,” he said, and then felt very, very awkward. 

“I, um…” Remus took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t mind being together, you know,” he said carefully. “If that’s… if that’s something you’d want as well.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius breathed.

“Well, we’ve been going out… and I’d say we get on quite well,” Remus shrugged, but it was a very tense movement. “And, you know, honestly, it’s not– it’s not as complicated as I thought it would be. It’s sort of… easy.” 

“Easy,” Sirius echoed, and then shook himself, because here was Remus proposing that they be together, together together, not just a few casual dates together, or I’m a regular at your coffee shop together, but really, actually, truly together, and Sirius felt a bit like he was going to explode if he was being honest. “Yeah,” he said, because there was really not a coherent thought going through his head other than we did it, we did it, we did it! Which was really a very childish thing to think, but Sirius had never been particularly mature, anyways.

Harry always did know how to snap Sirius out of his own thoughts. He picked the perfect moment to reach out, grab onto Sirius’ hair, and pull so hard it made tears spring to his eyes. Some wing-man you are, Sirius thought bitterly to himself, very narrowly avoiding cursing at his godson as he pried himself loose. 

“He’s only getting stronger, I swear,” Sirius muttered. Harry had a few long, black hairs in his fist. “Christ, mate,” Sirius groaned, shaking his head. He leaned Harry back against his chest and pulled the hair tie off of his wrist, pulling his hair back and out of the way. Harry looked very put out by this development. Remus did not. He was still staring at Sirius, now with his lips just very slightly parted, like he had been about to say something but stopped, and then he shook himself a little. 

“Your hair looks good like that,” he said quietly. Sirius felt his cheeks go hot. 

“What, with chunks missing?” he replied, and Remus breathed a laugh. Sirius cleared his throat, steeling himself. “I, um– well, honestly, I was going to say the same thing,” he said rather quickly, like he’d chicken out halfway through. 

“That… you like your hair like that as well?” Remus asked, and Sirius cursed at himself. 

“No– no, the other thing. The– the together thing.” 

“Oh,” Remus said. “Oh!” he said again, this time a little more brightly. “Really?” he asked like he couldn’t believe his ears, and Sirius couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yes, really,” he nudged Remus with his elbow, “don’t look so surprised.” 

“Well, I– you know, I haven’t really– well, I don’t know, er– oh, christ,” Remus said, shaking his head as the blush over his cheeks grew more and more red. “I haven’t ever dated,” he sighed. “I don’t know how this works.” Sirius held back another laugh, because oh, christ was immensely accurate to how he felt right now as well. 

“Well, you’re very good at it,” Sirius noted. Remus grinned widely, doing a terrible job at restraining it, and he leaned back against the bench. Whether he meant to or not, he leaned a little further into Sirius, too, and they just sat there for a moment, all smiles and fluttering hearts. 

Sirius looked up, watching the clouds above them. Look at me go, he said to James. Bet you’re real proud. I’m almost functional again.

And then, a little more bravely, you know, your son’s a good wingman. Bet you’re proud of him, too.

***

ok hear me out

listening

so im going to cambridge for the weekend right

i do recall

will miss you terribly, btw

ok

flirt

anyway

pfft

we’re seeing james’ mum and dad

and i was wondering

here’s the part where u hear me out

do you want to come?

like 

is this like 

meeting your parents?

well 

yeah

in a way

you can say no

obviously

i just thought maybe you might want to

sounds like fun :)

but its fine if not

oh

i feel like you really worked yourself up over this

what gave it away

dont answer that

haha

did you think id say no?

i dunno

its a big moment

well now i feel like you should meet MY mum

i mean

id meet your mum

she sounds lovely

were getting off topic

right

do they know about me?

phemia and monty?

of course they know about u

i tell literally everyone about u

and IM the flirt?

yes

glad were on the same page

***

“Hey,” Sirius greeted, pinching the phone between his shoulder and ear. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Remus said in return. “Are you– um… what are you doing right now?” Sirius looked down at the bottle in his hand, the dishes scattered across the counter, the laundry he still hadn’t folded sitting on the couch, Regulus raising an eyebrow at him from across the table.

“Nothing important,” he shrugged, and Regulus gasped in fake offense. Harry reached for the bottle, and Sirius tested the temperature against his wrist. “Why?” 

“I, um…” There was a long pause, and Sirius frowned. 

“Remus?” 

“I had a seizure,” Remus murmured. Sirius put the bottle down, taking the phone off of his shoulder and holding it to his ear properly. 

“Are you alright?” Sirius asked. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Sorry. Should have led with that. I just– well– Marlene is out of town with Dorcas, and I don’t want to bother her, and Evan never answers his phone, but honestly I doubt he’d be much help anyway, because he sort of met this guy Barty who he’s obsessed with now and he’s a bit insufferable– I’m realizing that’s beside the point,” Remus sighed. 

“A bit,” Sirius shrugged. Remus sighed, and it was a shaky, tense sort of sound.

“I don’t think I should be alone,” Remus finished. Sirius froze a bit, then. “I don’t– no, that came out wrong… I feel okay now, I think. And I’m not tasting metal. But I… “ Remus hesitated. “I just don’t like being alone, after, I guess. And I could call my mum, but she lives almost an hour from here, and I don’t want to worry her–”

“Do you want me to come over?” Sirius asked, cutting him short. Sirius’ stomach lurched with concern. “I can– should I come over?” There was a silence from the other end of the phone, and then a rustling. Regulus raised his eyebrows at Sirius, a sort of what’s going on look, and Sirius held up a finger. 

“I’ll buy you lunch?” Remus proposed, and Sirius held back a laugh. 

“You don’t need to bribe me, Remus,” he shook his head.

“Sorry,” Remus said miserably. “I know it’s sudden. And– honestly, I'm– you don't need to worry, like… nothing bad is gonna happen. I just feel a bit, you know… safer. When someone's with me." Sirius tried to take this information to heart, making an attempt to convince himself that Remus was not going to perish in the next several seconds, but only half of him believed it. "You can bring Harry?” 

“Well– hold on. Gimme a sec, Remus,” Sirius said. He covered the phone with his hand, hoping that would do enough to muffle the sound. “Could you watch Harry for a bit?” he asked Regulus. 

“What’s wrong?” Regulus asked instead of giving an answer, which Sirius knew was almost always a resounding yes when it came to Harry. 

“Remus had a seizure,” Sirius said. Regulus frowned. 

“Like… a bad one? ” he asked. Regulus knew the general details of Remus’ condition, primarily because Sirius never shut up about Remus, and Regulus was, unfortunately for him, the person Sirius now spent the most time around. They’d met a few times, now, and got along well in that sort of quiet, mutually introverted way.

“I think so,” Sirius answered. Regulus hummed, his eyebrows knitted together. “Can you watch Harry so I can go over?”

“I mean… yeah, sure,” Regulus shrugged. “Not like I come here to hang out with you, anyway,” he added. 

“Oh, real nice, Reg,” Sirius sighed. 

“What, would you rather I lie?” 

“I’d rather you admit you enjoy spending time with your br– oh, leave it,” he muttered, putting the phone back to his ear. “Remus?” Remus replied with a croaky hum. “Reggie’s gonna watch Harry for a bit.” Sirius smirked at how Regulus scowled hearing the nickname. “I can be over in, say, half an hour? That good?” 

“You don’t…” Remus paused. “Yeah. Thanks.” Sirius smiled a little at that, because Remus cut himself off before backtracking on his request. 

“Need anything from the store? I’ll make a stop. Food, tea, uh… Tylenol?” He didn’t know what Remus usually needed when he was sick. 

“Honestly, all that sounds great,” Remus breathed. “I haven’t eaten anything yet.” Sirius checked his watch. It was nearly 3 in the afternoon. They’d talk about that later, he decided.

“Well, send me a list,” Sirius said. He switched the phone from one hand to the other, picking up the bottle again. “And don’t be stingy.” He heard Remus huff out a laugh. 

“Yeah, alright,” he said, and Sirius could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “There’s, um… there’s a key under the flowerpot to the right of the door,” he added. “You can let yourself in.” For some reason, this knowledge felt like a rather thrilling secret to Sirius. 

“Duly noted,” Sirius nodded. Harry babbled, reaching out not for the bottle, but for the phone, and Sirius smiled. “Want to say hello to Harry?” He heard Remus laugh. 

“Yeah, sure,” he said. Sirius put it on speaker and held the phone out to Harry, who took it and yelled a sort of bah-bah-bah noise into it. When he was quiet for a moment, Sirius heard Remus still laughing. “Hello, Harry,” he said. “How are you, then?” Harry blew a raspberry and said huh-buh. “Wow,” Remus said. “Sage words. And then what happened?” Harry slapped the phone out of Sirius’ hand, and it clattered to the counter. 

“Oi, you– that’s expensive, that is,” he shook his head, picking it up again. “Say hello, Reg,” he added. Regulus lifted his head up slightly. 

“Hello, Reg,” he called, and Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, har-har,” he muttered.

“Hey, Regulus. Sorry about the last minute babysitting,” Remus called through the phone.

“No problem, Remus,” he said, and it sounded genuine, which was a shocker for Reg. Sirius took the phone off of speaker. 

“Be there in a minute,” Sirius said. 

“Thanks, Sirius,” Remus sighed. “Really.”

“Of course,” Sirius smiled into the phone. “See you soon.” 

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

“Bye.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep.”

“Bye.”

***

Remus was asleep when Sirius got to his apartment. 

He let himself in with the key under the flowerpot to the right of the door (which Sirius hadn’t doubted would be there, but which felt a little thrilling to find anyway) and called out a hesitant hello, but the flat was quiet. He had a terrible sinking feeling for a moment that made his heart drop to his stomach, but then he peered over the back of the couch and saw Remus, one arm draped over his eyes, the other tucked across his stomach, and Sirius stood watching his chest rise and fall for an embarrassingly long minute before he convinced himself Remus was alright. 

He didn’t really have the heart to wake him up, just yet. 

Instead, he puttered about Remus’ flat, put the groceries he’d gotten in the fridge, tidied the kitchen a bit, and carded briefly through the stack of records that Remus kept in the living room. When he was finished flipping through Bowie, he paced over to Remus’ bookshelf. On the bottom shelf was a huge hardcover, shiny but clearly well loved with constellations on the front. Sirius pulled it out, sitting cross legged on the floor and placing it in his lap.

The book was surprisingly easy to get lost in. It wasn’t just about the stars, but about the stories, about how they were named and why and who after and what they meant, and who used them from sailors to farmers to historians. 

When Sirius was maybe halfway through the book, he heard a soft noise behind him, and Sirius turned around to find Remus staring directly at him. 

“Oh,” Sirius said. 

“Hi,” Remus replied, smiling tiredly. 

“Sorry,” Sirius added. “I didn’t want to wake you up. Found the key, though.”

“Clearly,” Remus breathed a laugh. He pushed himself upright, rubbing the back of his wrist over his eyes. “Hi,” he said again when he was sitting, leaning heavily against the back of the couch.

“Hi,” Sirius echoed. “How are you feeling?” Remus narrowed his eyes, thinking hard about this question before he answered. 

“Oh, you know,” he sighed cryptically. Sirius frowned. “Sorry. Better than before. Less foggy. Still fine.” 

“You said you had a seizure this morning? Bad one?”

“I mean, it wasn’t fun,” he muttered, wincing as he stretched his shoulders back. “I haven’t had a big one since, though. I think I might be having some absence clusters, but it’s hard to tell when I’m by myself.” Sirius hummed. 

“I’ve got, uh…” Sirius hopped to his feet, grabbing a bag off of the kitchen table. “Gatorade,” he said, pulling out a blue bottle, “and Tylenol. And saltines. Er, uh, Boots Brand Salted Crackers.” Remus snorted. 

“Thanks,” he smiled. “And um, thanks for coming,” he added quietly. Sirius cracked the Gatorade open and passed it to him. 

“Of course,” he said gently. “Any time.” Remus drank some, and ate some, and washed down two Tylenols, and when he was finished, he leaned his head back against the couch so his neck craned a bit and his Adam’s apple bobbed a little against his throat. Sirius put Remus’ book back on the shelf and then sat gingerly on the couch next to him, and when the cushions shifted, Remus cracked his eyes open and looked over. 

“Marlene got me that book,” he said nostalgically. “Right before my first year at uni. She told me not to be spacey,” he smiled. “Speaking of stars. How’s Regulus?” he asked, which took Sirius a little off guard, honestly, and he laughed. 

“Grumpy as ever,” Sirius shrugged. 

“What’s he got to be grumpy about?” 

“That’s what I always say!” Sirius groaned. “He finds something without fail. I think it’s his personality at this point.”

“Everyone’s gotta have a thing, I guess,” Remus shrugged.

“What’s my thing ?” Sirius asked, suddenly very curious what Remus had to say. 

“Oh, don’t ask me that,” Remus laughed, picking his head off of the back of the couch like it weighed a hundred pounds. “I’ll say some– someth… mm…” And then Remus’ eyes were glassy, a thousand miles away. 

Sirius had seen him have absence seizures before, but it didn’t make his heart tug any less. He just sort of wasn’t there. His fingers kept making a sort of slow opening and closing motion, and his expression dropped just slightly, and then Sirius just had to wait. It was only a few seconds. 

“Mean,” Remus finished his sentence, and then blinked a bit. “Hm.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius asked. “I know your thing.” Remus stared at him for another second, and then seemed to process the words.

“If… if you say epilepsy, I’ll hit you.” 

“That so?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, it is. Pick something funnier. Something original.” 

“Is it mean if I say brain injury?” 

“I said original.”  

“Cane?” 

“ Oi,” Remus snapped, and for a moment Sirius thought he went a bit too far. “It’s a crutch.” Sirius blinked at him and then stifled a laugh. 

“A thousand apologies,” he said dramatically, bowing his head slightly. “Come on, tell me mine,” Sirius said. “It’s easy. Just take the low hanging fruit.”

“Napoleon complex,” Remus said with no hesitation , and Sirius’ jaw dropped. 

“Napoleon… You were supposed to say baby!” he wailed. Remus tipped his head back, laughing from his chest. “Napoleon complex?” Sirius demanded. “I’m not even that short!” 

“I told you I’d be mean!” 

“That was cruel,” Sirius groaned, resting his head sideways against the couch back. 

“I warned you,” he said, halfway through a laugh. 

“I’m not that short,” Sirius insisted quietly. “You’re just obscenely tall.” 

“Obscenely?” Remus asked, because now it was his turn to be shamed. 

“Tragically,” Sirius added. “Dreadfully, disastrously, miserably tall,” he agonized. 

“And, pray tell, what makes it so miserable?” Remus said smoothly, throwing his arm over the back of the couch so he was fully facing Sirius now, and they were just sitting there on the couch, face to face, and Sirius felt his face flush as soon as he’d decided what to say. 

“Harder to reach,” Sirius mused. Remus’ lips parted just slightly, the corner twitching up, and then he swallowed. 

“Well, that’s not a problem at the moment, is it?” he murmured. 

And then they were just sort of… they just sort of were. Sirius really didn’t know who ended up leaning in first, and he wasn’t sure that it mattered, because Remus was soft and warm and wrapping his fingers around the back of Sirius’ neck and tangling up into his hair, and Sirius had one hand on Remus’ thigh and the other on his hip. And for some reason, in his head, he was trying to figure out if this was Remus’ left hip or his right hip, because the left one had the scar on it, but his brain was getting caught up in my left or your left and making the little L with his thumb and finger in his mind, and this was all desperately irrelevant. 

It was a breathless sort of thing, messy and not quite practiced and urgent in some strange way, like somehow they’d both settled on the simple truth that this was vital just to being. Remus tasted a bit like blue Gatorade and salt, and Sirius wondered if he tasted like toothpaste, because he had, in fact, brushed his teeth before he came over, and it was not because he was expecting this. And then Sirius laughed a little, right then, mid-kiss, and then he laughed some more because he laughed, and Remus laughed too, and Sirius ducked his head a little and pressed it into the space between Remus’ neck and his shoulder, just sort of breathing.

“You’re lovely, you know that Moony?” Sirius said, almost a giggle, and decided that Remus’ jaw was lovely as well, just below his ear, and also the side of his neck where he could feel his pulse just a bit, and his shoulder, too, and then his collarbone.

Remus didn’t answer him, but that was okay, because he was making a low hum in the back of his throat that worked well enough, and he was tipping both of them backwards so Sirius was on top of him on the couch. His fingers fluttered at Sirius’ waist, resting just over his hip bones, and when Sirius left marks, he dug his thumbs in just a little, just enough to make sure Sirius knew he was there. 

Sirius knew he was there, of course. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to forget, honestly.

Chapter Text

“Is that a hickey?” Marlene asked. Remus’ hand flew to his neck. “Is that– Remus. Remus.”

“What?” 

“Remus John Lupin, is that a fucking hickey?”  

“Mar lene–!” Remus swatted her hand away. “Your fingers are freezing!” 

“It is!” she said, thoroughly ignoring him. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Remus, this is a family friendly establishment you slag.”  

“Wh–  excuse me?” he laughed, and she hit him on the arm. “Ow!” 

“You’re supposed to tell me when these things happen, Remus! Oh my god, there’s– there’s more. How many more?” She reached for his collar again, tugging it down, and he ducked out of the way. 

“What happened to family friendly?” he demanded. “Hey– quit– Marlene!” 

“Oh, wow, he’s mouthy , isn’t he?” 

Remus didn’t think he’d ever blushed so hard in his life. 

***

Once, when Sirius was just out of high school, he’d met a guy at a bar. His name was Jason, but he went by Jay in a terribly-pretentious-about-it way. Regardless, Sirius had liked the way he laughed and how the corners of his eyes wrinkled when he smiled and how his fingers were calloused because he played bass. They had dated for a few months, actually. Sirius hadn’t really had a boyfriend outside of school before, and those were generally hushed and secretive, so this was something important. A coming-of-age, of sorts. A rite of passage. 

And then Jay cheated on Sirius with an Irish bloke he met at a concert, and he lied about it for two months until Sirius walked in on them hooking up in his own apartment. 

Regulus would have expected Sirius to call James, first. In fact, right up until then, Regulus would have expected Sirius to call everyone else in his entire contacts list, and then maybe in the phone book, and then maybe stand on the street corner and rant like a madman before he called Regulus. They had come quite far by that point, but not quite this far, Regulus thought– but Sirius called Regulus first. Sirius had gone and broken his heart, and he had called Regulus first. 

This was not the first time Regulus had seen his brother cry, but it was the first time he’d seen him cry over love, and Regulus had resolved in that moment, with his big brother’s face buried into the side of his neck and tears staining his shirt, that he would be the very first in line to knock someone’s teeth out on Sirius’ behalf. 

He started with Jay. 

This was not the first time Regulus had hit someone, but it was the first time he’d hit someone for his brother. 

If Sirius had any severe feelings about this decision, he kept them to himself. 

Sirius had dated on and off since then, usually in short, simple stretches, and never anything particularly meaningful (at least in Regulus’ opinion). No one had given Regulus much cause for concern, aside from one bloke who had told Sirius that since he’d dated a girl once in high school, he wasn’t really gay, was he? Sirius had adamantly refused to give Regulus the boy’s name, nor his address, and so Regulus had to settle for the lesser satisfaction (though greater pride) of knowing that Sirius had called the guy a bloody wanker and left him at the restaurant to pay for their meals on his own.

And then Sirius went and fell ass over teakettle for some starry-eyed café barista, and Regulus was on high alert. 

It wasn’t so much a critique on the man himself– Regulus hardly knew anything about him (and neither did Sirius, mind you)– but significantly more a result of circumstance. Because Sirius had just lost James. He had just lost James, which was the same as saying you lost a brother, or you lost a twin, or you lost a bit of your soul, or maybe the whole soul, or maybe the whole world. 

And the world had lost James and Lily as well. 

Sirius had never been so quiet in his life. It was agonizing, and it was helpless, and it was resentful, and Regulus hadn’t really appreciated all of the ways that Sirius was Sirius until he wasn’t the same anymore. 

Time passed with cruelty, and it did not hurt less when their deaths became distant. Things were different, and they were darker, and they were quieter, and they were also new and loud and sleepless and sunny, because now there was Harry, and Regulus had to think that if there wasn’t Harry that he may have lost Sirius, too.

So, no, it wasn’t so much a critique on that starry-eyed barista himself. Remus could have been a saint– Remus could have saved kittens from trees on his way to work every morning and helped little old ladies across lakes of lava in the afternoons and Regulus would not trust him any more than he would trust a rat during the plague. 

He had to give him credit, though, because Sirius was suddenly being propelled forward by something instead of being pulled back. He woke up early, now, got dressed, really dressed, took showers, brushed his teeth, brushed his hair, bought himself something nice every morning, talked to people– talked to someone.  

And when Remus stood him up, when Remus left his brother sitting at a table by himself checking his phone over and over, when Remus made Sirius drive home and tell his little brother that he’d been royally ditched , Regulus found, to his surprise, that he didn’t actually want to knock Remus’ teeth out. He wanted to knock Sirius’ teeth out. He wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until his neck was a slinky and his brain rattled around like rocks in a tumbler and yell I told you so, I told you so, I told you so, I warned you– I warned you and you didn’t listen! You never listen! You never learn!

Sirius never learned, and Remus had stood him up.

Except he hadn’t. 

So Regulus was then faced with the immense task of forgiving Remus for standing his brother up, because there was no world in which he wouldn’t be an asshole blaming an epileptic for having a seizure, but there was also no world in which he would be okay with someone leaving his brother sitting alone at a table set for two. 

And yet Regulus had never met someone so easy to forgive as Remus. Which really, really didn’t make sense, because Regulus held grudges. Regulus was the king of holding grudges. Regulus could hold a grudge against gravity for holding him to earth if he had half a mind to. There was nothing he couldn’t not let go. Vindictiveness was a beloved hobby and a well honed skill. 

But he had met his match. 

The first time Regulus had met Remus, it had been entirely by accident– and this was very distinctly vital to note, because if Regulus had been prepared, he would have said a lot more than what he did say, which was nothing. 

And at the grocery store of all places. What a nightmare. 

“Sirius!” Remus had said, and with so much absolute delight in his voice that Regulus forgot for a moment why exactly he was angry with him. 

And then Sirius went and said “Remus!” with equally as much delight, and Regulus felt a little joy for a moment before he reminded himself that no, he was supposed to be the skeptical one, the cynic, the pessimist. 

“What are you–? Well, grocery shopping, obviously, nevermind,” Remus interrupted himself, and then leaned forward over the handle of his cart a little to peer at Harry. “Hello!” he cooed, and Harry went weeeh! and then awah and then ma-ma-mah and Remus looked like he was melting a bit. Then Harry started to yank his shoes off, and Sirius lurched forward to stop him from throwing them across the aisle. 

“I buy you nice things, and this is how you treat them?” Sirius asked Harry, and Harry said huh-huh. “Apology not accepted,” he sighed, and tucked Harry’s shoe into the back of the stroller.

“Maybe he wanted a different color,” Remus suggested. 

“Well, then, he should have said so,” Sirius replied, shrugging, and Remus stifled a laugh with his hand over his mouth, and Regulus was still just blinking at him. “Oh. Regulus, Remus. Remus, Regulus.” Remus grinned at him. 

“Pleasure,” he said, holding out his hand, and it was the only time that Regulus actually believed someone when they said that. And so Regulus shook his hand, and then he hated himself for it, because what he should have done was scowl , and maybe turn up his nose, and maybe cross his arms for good measure. “Really sorry, though,” Remus said, “but I’ve gotta run– Marlene’s coming over in, like,” Remus checked his phone, “jesus christ. Yeah. Alright. I told her I’d get dinner.” Sirius laughed, waving him on. 

“Don’t let us keep you,” he smiled. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Remus asked.

“Bright and early,” Sirius nodded, and Remus smiled wider, and he pursed his lips a little to keep it from growing too big. 

“Cheers,” he said. He started walking away, but then stopped and turned to Harry in the stroller. “For the record, I think they’re very nice shoes,” he stage-whispered to him. Harry glared at him and waved his arms menacingly. 

And then he was off, rushing his way over to the checkout line, and Regulus sort of blinked after him like he was a ray of sunshine escaping into a storm.

“Told you so,” Sirius nudged Regulus with his elbow. 

“Told me what?” Regulus hissed, batting his arm away.

“I dunno. Whatever you’re thinking right now, about him… told you so,” Sirius said, a shit-eating grin creeping across his face. 

“Piss off,” Regulus muttered, and Sirius barked a laugh. 

“Language!” Sirius gasped dramatically. “You didn’t even say hello to him! Cat got your tongue, Reggie?”

“Piss off,” Regulus repeated, more insistently this time, but it held no bite.

“Well, when Harry has a foul mouth, we’ll know who he got it from,” Sirius sighed, shaking his head like a disappointed parent, and Regulus rolled his eyes. “Go on, then, tell us what you think.” 

“About what?” 

“Remus, idiot,” Sirius huffed. 

“Don’t call me an idiot, you prat. I only met him for a second.” That was all the answer Sirius seemed to need, apparently, because he was grinning to himself like he’d won a bloody prize. 

Regulus couldn’t really give Remus any shit after that, honestly, because he hadn’t given him shit the first time he’d met him, and so he couldn’t just start giving him shit out of nowhere. It just wouldn’t make sense. And it also didn’t make sense to give Remus shit at all, because it would sort of feel like kicking a puppy– a very tall, very gangly, very scruffy little puppy, who Sirius had, as previously stated, fallen ass over teakettle for.

Regulus wasn’t quite sure what exactly the grudge was that he’d intended to volley against Remus, but he was, for the first time in his life, unsuccessful in holding one.

***

It had taken Remus and Sirius an embarrassingly long time to realize that they had completely forgotten about their first date– not the first date that they’d actually gone on, but the first date that they’d planned. It had occurred to Sirius while he and Remus were walking through the park, an activity they’d come to thoroughly enjoy, and Sirius had stopped short and blurted out, “Sicily's!” 

“What?” Remus asked, stumbling to a halt. Even Harry made a confused sort of huh-huh?

“Sicily’s!” Sirius repeated urgently. 

“Sirius, love, you’re going to have to give me a bit more to work with than that,” Remus sighed, adjusting his grip on his crutch. 

“We never went!” Sirius explained. “Do you remember? When I first asked you out, we were going to get dinner, and then you– well… but we were going to go to Sicily’s on Broad and Seventh!”

“Okay?” Remus half laughed. 

“I never took you to dinner,” Sirius lamented, very aware of how dramatic he was being. They started walking again, and he spoke, waving a hand. “That’s how I asked you out– I asked you to go to dinner with me, and then I never even took you to dinner! That was the whole premise! Are we even dating then?”

“Guess not,” Remus shrugged nonchalantly, and Sirius made a noise like he’d been gutted. 

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius sighed. “We have to break up.” Remus laughed, shaking his head. “I mean it! We simply have to. And then I’ll ask you to dinner again, and you’ll say yes, and then we’ll be properly dating.” 

“Ah, yes, properly,” Remus mused, smirking. “Definitely haven’t been doing that the past month.” 

“Go on, break up with me,” Sirius urged. 

“Wh–  me? Why’s it me that’s got to break up with you?” Remus demanded.

“Because it was my idea to ask you out,” Sirius replied easily.

“Well, then, shouldn’t you finish what you started?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“I fully intend to finish what I started, Moony, rest assured,” Sirius said, the corner of his mouth twitching up, and he reveled in the way Remus blushed, looking away in front of them to avoid looking at Sirius. “Come on, break up with me. Please? Our relationship is built on a throne of lies, Moony.” Remus snorted. “How can I call myself an honest man if I never even took you on our first date?” 

“If you recall,” Remus noted, “I was in the hospital. I hardly think it was your fault. Unless you’ve got something to tell me,” he added. 

“That’s no excuse,” Sirius sighed. “I’m a sham.” 

“Yeah,” Remus shrugged. 

“A fraud. An impostor– nay, a charlatan.”  

“You’re bloody dramatic, is what you are,” Remus laughed, and then he reached his crutch over and poked it between Sirius’ feet so he had to dance a little to avoid tripping.

“I won’t be angry,” Sirius said. “Honest. Go on, just do it. Get it over with. I’m ready.”

“Alright, fine. I’m breaking up with you,” Remus shrugged. 

“Wh…” Sirius slowed to a stop. Remus stopped too, raising his eyebrows, and Sirius frowned. “Hm. No, you’re right, I didn’t like that at all,” he mused quietly. Remus rolled his eyes, but he was clearly holding in a smile. “Take me back?” Remus barked out a laugh. “Go on, take me back.” 

“Awfully desperate of you,” Remus put his free hand on his hip.

“What can I say? I’m a desperate man. Come on, Moony, take me back,” Sirius asked again, and Remus shook his head, and then had the audacity to start walking again. “Remus.” He kept going. Sirius walked after him. “Remus, take me back.” 

“Hm?” Remus said, and kept right on walking. 

“Moony. Moony. Come on, Moons, take me back. Remus!” 

“What’s that?” 

“I know you heard me!” 

“Sorry?” 

“Take me back!” Sirius whined, and Remus was trying desperately hard to hold back a smile and was also failing miserably. “Oh, this is cruel,” Sirius moaned. “Cruel and unusual. Take me back, Moons, come on. Moony. Moony, take me–”

Remus turned very suddenly, then, so suddenly that Sirius nearly fell flat on his ass, but Remus caught him with an arm around his side, holding him up just slightly and pulling them close to each other, and he ducked down just a little until their faces were so, so close together, so close that Sirius couldn’t really look at Remus without going a little cross eyed. He was a statue, and Remus was the same, and for a very long second they were just sort of frozen like that.

“Alright,” Remus finally breathed, and it was hot against Sirius’ lips, and Sirius was certain his face was completely flushed red. Remus moved their faces apart just slightly so that they were looking into each other's eyes, and he took his hand from around Sirius’ waist and put it against his cheek. Sirius swallowed hard. “One condition.”

“Anything,” Sirius said instantly. Remus smiled.

“Take me to dinner?” 

***

Ok, so it was a nice car. Fine. It was a nice car, and it was very beautifully repaired, and maybe Sirius actually did know what he was doing. Fine! Fine. Fine. Marlene would admit it. 

But honestly, sue her, most times when people said they were fixing up an old car, it was usually a piece of junk with a new paint job and a polished fender and that was about it. And yeah, she might have scoffed a bit when Sirius told her he was fixing up 1956 Continental for some well minted bloke in Liverpool, and she might have rolled her eyes a bit when he said, no, really! and when he rattled off about how it’d been shipped over from America and how he’d rebuilt the automatic transmission and given it new shocks and put a bloody bluetooth radio in it– 

And it was the bluetooth radio that had really done her in, because she had to see that– a bluetooth radio in a Mark II? Her dad would be rolling in his grave.

But there it was, a 1956 Continental Mark II, original 368 cubic inch V8 engine, Coker radial tires, chrome bumpers, power steering, red leather wrapped steering wheel– and yes, a bluetooth radio. Christ, though, she had to think he’d earned a bit of good music at that point. 

“Huh,” Marlene said, and Sirius looked right fuckin’ chuffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back a little. “And, uh…” she cleared her throat. “Not for sale?” 

“Spoken for,” Sirius smirked. “Like I said–” 

“Liverpool, right,” she murmured, leaning her head into the window at the driver’s side. She whistled. It smelled new, like steel and leather, and fuck, he’d even made the radio look like it was vintage so it fit in with the dark wood paneling on the inside. “Remus, I’m in love with your boyfriend,” she concluded with a nod, turning back to look at the two of them standing on the curb. Remus’ eyes flew up. 

“Wh– now h- hold on–” he stammered. 

“ Also spoken for,” Sirius cut him off. Remus looked positively smitten, and Marlene groaned loudly. 

“No fair,” she said. “Christ, Sirius, let me drive it? How much just to drive it? I’d pay you so much. Free coffee for life.” Sirius laughed. 

“No chance, McKinnon,” he shook his head. 

“You’re taunting me,” she hissed, turning back to the car. She placed her hands very gingerly on the hood. “Showing me a car like this and telling me I can’t even drive it,” she shook her head, closing her eyes. 

“He let me drive it,” Remus said, and Marlene turned on him so fast she felt her neck pop a bit. Two thoughts flashed through her head; the first one (which should not have been the first one) was how come Remus got to drive it and not me?! And the second (which should absolutely have been the first) was you let Remus get behind the wheel of a car? Are you fucking insane? Are you truly, honestly fucking insane? 

“You– what?” she demanded, and her mouth went dry right up until the second that Remus’ terrible poker face cracked, and she realized he was kidding. “Oh,” she breathed. “Christ, Remus, don’t scare me like that.” 

“What, you don’t think I’d be a good driver?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh, sure, yeah, you’d be a brilliant driver. Let me know how it goes when you get a fit looking at a bloody turn signal,” she sighed, and Remus laughed, tipping his head back.

“I feel like I’d be fine for a bit,” he shrugged. 

“Mhm,” Marlene rolled her eyes. 

“Maybe I’ll bicycle instead,” Remus scratched his chin pensively, and even Sirius snorted at that. “A man can dream!” Remus said defensively.

“A trike, maybe,” Sirius proposed gently, “or a Big Wheel?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Remus groaned.

“I’ll get you one of those side-cars to put on my motorcycle,” Sirius grinned, and Remus glared at him. “You could get goggles! Like that dog in the cartoon!” 

“I just said not to patronize me!” 

“I’m not patronizing, I’m providing reasonable alternatives,” Sirius defended himself, and smartly took a step out of range of Remus’ crutch. 

“This is discrimination,” Remus nodded decisively. 

“What!” Sirius exclaimed. 

“I demand equal rights. Just because I’m epileptic doesn’t mean I can’t drive.” 

“That’s exactly what it means,” Marlene pointed out. 

“Plenty of epileptic people drive!” Remus protested. 

“Yeah, the ones who don’t get seizures every other day,” she added.

“It’s not every other day,” Remus pouted. “It’s, like, twice a week. At most.” Marlene and Sirius both made a squeaky sort of ehhhh… sound in complete unison, and then cackled loudly when Remus threw his hand up in the air in exasperation. “The little ones don’t count!” 

“Right, right, that’s what’s written in the DVLA guidelines,” Marlene nodded, holding back another giggle. “Seizures permitted as long as they’re the little ones.”  

“Honestly, Moony, you’d hate driving,” Sirius mused. 

“I know I’d hate it,” Remus whined. “That’s not the point. The point is that I’d like the freedom to make poor choices and inconvenience as many people as possible while doing so!” 

“Ah, yes, a noble cause,” Marlene said sagely. 

“Don’t worry, Moony, you can still make lots of other poor choices,” Sirius smiled, patting Remus on the shoulder like he was comforting a sad child.

“Yeah, and you inconvenience me every day!” Marlene added cheerily. Remus shot her a withering look, and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“That’s offensive, that is,” Remus put his right hand on his hip. “I take offense to that.” 

“You were supposed to,” she smirked. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” 

“Do you see how she treats me, Sirius? This is an unsafe workplace environment.” 

“We’re not at work!” Marlene protested. 

“See? And now she’s followed me home,” he shook his head. Sirius snorted. 

“This is Sirius’ place!” 

“I’m reporting this to HR,” Remus sighed. “Sirius, you’re a witness. I’ll need a statement.” 

“Of course,” Sirius said, pursing his lips in an attempt not to grin like a dickhead, and Marlene threw her hands in the air and groaned. 

“I’m stealing the car,” she muttered, turning and opening up the driver’s side door, and behind her, she heard Sirius make a desperate sort of huh-wh–uh! sound that made Remus giggle.

***

It had started at dinner, and in hindsight, Remus would be very glad they had decided to stay in rather than going out. Sirius apparently knew how to make one specific meal very, very well, and that was a dish called mutter paneer, a recipe he had learned from James, and who James had learned from his father, and who his father had learned from his father, and so on. 

Remus had never been very good at cooking, having a pretty severe aversion to open flame and sharp objects on account of... well, on account of the way that he was, so the offer of a home cooked meal was even more endearing. So they had started with the cheese, and then the peas, and then the tomato and onion sauce, and Sirius was apparently very bad at making naan by hand, so they heated up some store-bought and agreed to pretend it was made in their own kitchen. 

They set the table. They put out silverware on napkins and tall wine glasses. Sirius pulled out Remus' chair, which was hilarious and also made Remus' stomach flutter a bit, and they lit a candle in the middle of the table. And christ, wasn’t that romantic, just the two of them? Sirius' flat smelled like garam masala and kasuri methi leaves and garlic.

And oh, it was amazing. Remus ate while Sirius rattled off a story about how James had taught him how to make it, how they'd almost lit the whole pan on fire and had to start over, and he talked about the next time when James practically quizzed him on the ingredients and stood with his arms crossed, shaking his head or nodding very slightly when Sirius made his choices, the whole time a massive grin on his face, and from everything Remus had heard about James, this felt very in character. So they ate, and they talked, and Remus told a story about how his mum would cook meals for him but they were very much not like this, because Remus was a very picky eater when he was younger. (Sirius had laughed when he told him the common excuse he used– it's got bits in it. )

And then, with the next bite, the flavor changed a little, and it took Remus a moment to recognize it. 

When he did, it startled him, and he didn't really have a chance to form a thought before he clapped a hand over his mouth as though he'd be able to feel the taste of metal through his fingertips. And then he thought, no . And then not here , and then not now, and then no , again, and then this isn't fair. Because they'd made dinner , and they'd set the table , and they'd lit a candle and Sirius had pulled out Remus' chair , and this wasn't fair . 

Remus cut himself off abruptly, forgetting whatever it was he was saying before, making a sort of choking noise, and he kept his hand over his mouth. Sirius was staring at him, he knew, but he couldn’t make himself look up, training his eyes on the table in front of him. 

“Remus?” Sirius asked. Remus’ eyebrows pinched together a little because he didn’t say Moony, he said Remus . It was fine. It was fine. “Remus, what’s wrong?” 

Remus shook his head. Instead of answering, he took his hand away, reaching for his wine. He took a mouthful, swishing it around a little between his teeth before swallowing but… no, it was still there. It couldn’t be– not now.

“Moony, you’re worrying me,” Sirius urged gently, and Remus felt guilt pool in his stomach, because this wasn’t fair, and Sirius was about to get a whole lot more worried, and he hated it– “Hey,” Sirius said softly, and he placed his hand overtop of Remus’ very carefully.

“Sorry,” Remus said because it was the first thing he could think to say. “I’m–” Sirius stared at him with those big, concerned eyes, and Remus swallowed hard. “I’m gonna have a seizure.” 

Sirius’ eyes widened a little, and Remus was fairly certain that they both felt like the air had left the room but for very different reasons. 

“Are you getting an aura?” Sirius asked. Remus nodded jerkily. “Did it start just now?” Again, another nod. “Okay,” he said, leaning back a little. “Alright. It’s alright.” He looked like there were a thousand things going through his head all at once and Remus hated it all of a sudden, hated everything. He hated himself a bit, and then his brain, and then his dad just for a second, and himself again, less briefly than before.

“You don’t have to stay,” Remus blurted out, sort of insistently, and he found he hadn’t really formed the intention to say it before it was already being said. A look crossed Sirius’ face, one Remus hated as well, and he looked down at the table so he didn’t have to see it anymore. 

“What?” Sirius breathed, and Remus felt his breath hitch. The metal taste was spreading over his tongue, and he felt that dense, heavy feeling settling in, an impending doom, like something was coming, and he ground his teeth against it. “Remus–”

“You don’t have to stay,” Remus repeated, cutting him off a little breathlessly. “You can– I won’t be upset,” he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “You don’t have to–” Sirius was moving. Remus knew he was, even though his eyes were closed, because he was still holding onto his hand– and after a moment, he was kneeling, settled in front of him, taking Remus’ other hand in his as well. Remus could only feel the touch on his last two fingers, and he hated that as well. 

“Moony, look at me,” Sirius asked softly, and Remus shook his head like a child. Grow up, he wanted to shout at himself, but he was– he didn’t– he couldn’t– “Remus, love, please. Look at me.” He forced himself to open his eyes, and Sirius was looking back at him, gray irises all sparkly in the candle light, and Remus ached a little because they had lit candles, and now he was going to ruin it. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You can,” Remus insisted. “You can–  you don’t have to–” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sirius shook his head. “Come on, what’s wrong? We’ve planned for this, right? It’s no different than before.” 

“It is different,” Remus rasped. “These ones are different. They’re– they’re scary,” he continued. For you, he wanted to say. For me. For everyone. It’s not the same. Sirius had seen some of Remus’ seizures before. The twitch in his neck and shoulders happened every so often, and his absence seizures were common when he was overly stressed or tired. Once, when Remus had slept over at Sirius’ apartment after a movie night, Sirius had woken him up in a bit of a panic because Remus’ legs were jerking in his sleep, and Remus had to assure him that it was alright, and it was normal, and he was okay. And secretly, in his head, then, he’d thought it was very sweet of Sirius to care so much, to be so worried. 

This, though… this was different. He didn’t want Sirius to see this. He didn’t want him to be worried, now. He wanted him to care a little less, enough so that he… so that he could–

“I know,” Sirius said softly, running his thumb over the back of Remus’ hand, pulling him back into the present. Remus swallowed again, and he felt the metal taste clinging to his throat. The sinking feeling still felt distant still, but it was there, always persistent. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

He said it with so much certainty that Remus began to resign himself to it; the seizure was coming, and he couldn’t stop it, and Sirius wasn’t going anywhere. He’d see. It was inevitable, Remus knew. And Sirius had never shied away at the idea. In fact, they’d gone over it quite a few times, how something like this would go. 

Sirius stood, pressing a kiss to Remus’ forehead before leaning past him a little and blowing out the candle. The smell of smoke lingered in the air. Sirius pressed a hand against Remus’ cheek, smiling at him gently, and to his credit, he kept the worry out of his face almost entirely. It was only there in his eyes, but it was there.

“Let’s sit,” Sirius proposed. Remus was already sitting, of course, but he knew what Sirius meant, and he let Sirius guide him to the floor. He felt a bit like he was floating. The inevitable was in front of him, but he was clinging hard to the moments just before, when they were sitting, eating, laughing, when there was a candle lit on the table and Sirius had just uncorked the wine. Remus exhaled shakily as he crossed his legs underneath him, rubbing his hands over his face. Sirius moved Remus’ chair out of the way, clearing a bit more space, because that’s exactly what he was supposed to do. 

Because they’d talked about this. 

Step one, Remus would get an aura. It would taste like metal, and he’d get this feeling, this distant, growing feeling like something was coming, something big, and it would build in his chest slowly and heavily. Check. Step two was to sit on the ground. Check. Step three was to clear the area. That’s where they were now. Check. Step four was conditional– loosen any tight clothing, take off anything around the neck. Remus had a severe aversion to neckties because of this step, and so it was hardly an issue, not that he’d wear a tie in Sirius’ apartment anyway. 

And oh, that made this worse, didn’t it? They were in Sirius’ apartment. He didn’t know why it made it worse, but it did.

They’d done all the steps, then. Check, check, check. Sirius sat on the ground in front of Remus, crossing his legs as well. Remus watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened up a stopwatch app, and set it on the ground to his side. The feeling in his chest got a little heavier, and when Sirius looked up at him, he must have looked truly miserable.

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius sighed, and Remus tipped his head forward, leaning against his chest. “Come on, love, it’s alright.” He rubbed his hands up and down Remus’ forearms and then over his shoulders and back, and Remus felt a little tingly. 

“Sorry,” he murmured into Sirius’ shirt. “You–”

“Please don’t tell me to leave again,” Sirius interrupted him, cupping his hand over the back of Remus’ neck and holding him still, and Remus couldn’t help but smile a little and think, you know me so well.

“Okay,” Remus breathed.

“We planned for this, right?” Sirius asked, repeating the sentiment from earlier, and Remus nodded against his chest. “I’m not afraid. I mean– I’m a little nervous, I’ll be honest, but it’s not– it’s because I want you to be safe, you know? And I know… I know this is hard for you.” Remus nodded again, and realized a little belatedly that Sirius was probably freaking out a little. Or a lot. And he wouldn’t say anything about it because that’s just sort of how he was, but he was definitely freaking out.

“It’ll be alright,” Remus breathed out, forcing himself to believe it as well. He leaned back. “It might look a little scary, but it’s– I’ll be alright.” He hoped that was reassuring. He really couldn’t tell. How do you prepare someone for that? He’d always wondered what it looked like from someone else’s eyes, but it also made him a bit sick to think about it. Sirius nodded nonetheless. 

“How do you feel now?” Sirius asked, and Remus furrowed his brow. The metal taste was still just as strong. He was still just as heavy. He still felt the same sense of something is coming. It was always hard to tell, once the aura started. It wasn’t like a timer. He didn’t know how long it would be. 

“The same,” he replied simply, and Sirius hummed. “Sorry about dinner,” he added, and Sirius breathed a laugh. 

“We’ll have leftovers,” he shook his head. “Not like you can’t light a candle twice, right?” Remus couldn’t help but smile a little at that, because it was so simple when he put it like that, huh? “Okay,” Sirius continued, “so… during. Can we just… for my sake.” This is how they’d talked about it when they planned; before, during, after. The before was done, now left just with the waiting part until the during. Remus took a breath.

“Put me on my side,” he said. “Don’t stick anything in my mouth.” It’s an old wives’ tale, Remus had told Sirius the first time he’d asked. You can’t actually swallow your tongue. And it’s a good way to break my teeth or pop my jaw out of place or something.  

“Yep,” Sirius nodded along. 

“I might not breathe very well,” Remus said, closing his eyes now because it was a little easier to talk about this if he wasn’t also staring right into anxious eyes. “Marlene says I make a lot of noise. It’s normal. And I bite my tongue sometimes. That’s normal, too.” 

“Right.”

“Time me,” Remus said. This was the important part. “I don’t usually go longer than three minutes, but sometimes I get to four. At five, call 999.” Sirius was quiet, but Remus knew he’d heard. It was rare, but it happened, and ever since Remus had wound up in the hospital the day that Sirius had asked him out, there was a lurking fear in his chest that it would happen again, that he’d shaken something loose that day and things would start to get worse again like they had been when he was younger. Even three minutes was long for a seizure like this, he knew, but they weren’t as violent as when he was younger. They were slow and jerky, and sometimes, in the middle, he was told he just sort of trembled with his eyes rolled back. He swallowed hard. “And then just– just talk to me,” he finished quietly. “It makes it easier.” 

Remus’ eyes were still closed, but he felt Sirius lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek, just under his eye, and when he pulled away, he opened his eyes to meet Sirius’. 

“It’ll be okay,” Sirius said, very likely assuring himself as well as Remus. Remus nodded. 

“Afterwards I’ll be a bit confused,” he noted. “And emotional. And tired.” There were a lot of ands, honestly. Remus could go on for a while.

 He was a bit of a mess after these ones, he knew, but he was a bit of a mess always and Sirius didn’t seem to mind that very much. The metal taste got stronger in his mouth, slowly creeping down his tongue and throat like he’d swallowed a battery. And then there was a moment where that heavy feeling crashed over him so quickly he lost his breath, and it was all acid and fear and numbness and he felt himself pitch forward. 

It was always blurry at this part. He was there, and then he wasn’t, and there really wasn’t ever any inbetween.

There were words that Remus couldn't hear, blood rushing in his ears, that strange floating sensation. He was breathing hard, everything locked up and tight and sore and his skin was hot and cold all at once. 

There was something like copper in his mouth. Involuntarily, like something else was in control of his body, he heard himself making sounds, strange gasps and groans and inhales that got stuck in his throat, and he was twitching still, but it was slowing. 

He had to remind himself of that. It was slowing. He was alright. It’s alright. He couldn’t tell if he was telling himself that in his own head, or if he was hearing it from outside, or if it was both.

His arms jolted and then stilled, and then stiffened again, and he felt something soft on his fingers, just against the very tips.

There were still words. They were low and soft and gentle, and Remus clung to them like a hand pulling him forward through water. He made a noise in his throat, maybe trying to respond, and his lungs finally expanded fully all in one huge gust of air.

It burned. The sensation of pain hit him a little delayed. He squeezed his eyes shut against it.

"It's alright," the voice was saying–  Sirius was saying. He recognized it finally. “It’s alright. You’re alright. That one wasn’t bad, I don’t think, right? Two minutes? That’s not terrible, I don’t think,” he said, and groggily, Remus thought that he was probably saying that to help himself a bit, too. “It’s alright,” Sirius repeated. Remus hummed, forcing the sound out of him just so that Sirius knew he was there, that he was trying. Something in his chest spasmed, but stilled quickly.  "I'm here, sweetheart. It's alright." Remus felt warm, then, because he had been Moony, and he had been love, and he had sometimes been dear or once even baby, which had been shot down rather quickly, but he had never been–

"Sweetheart?" he rasped weakly, raising his eyebrows as he forced his eyes open. The world was all colors and shapes. “That’s a new one,” he added. His voice sounded a little wrecked, like always. Sirius laughed a little, a shaky sound of relief.

"Well, I can't just call you Moony forever, can I?"

"You could try," Remus sighed. He felt out of breath and sore. 

"Could I, now? Forever?" Remus didn't bother holding back his smile. He probably couldn't have if he tried. He hummed an affirmative, closing his eyes again, and he felt something warm against his cheek, leaning into it. Sirius ran his thumb back and forth against his skin, cupping his jaw a little. He was tired and floaty and not quite sure where he was, really, but this was better than waking up alone, he decided. So much better. Infinitely better. 

He shifted his weight slowly, turning further onto his back and attempting to ignore the way his whole body felt like it was sore and sour. The copper taste was still on his tongue, and he brought his hand up to wipe the corner of his mouth. It came away red. 

"Ugh," he muttered. 

"I think you bit your tongue," Sirius said. Remus hummed. 

"I usually do," Remus sighed. 

"Hold on," Sirius murmured, and he started to stand but then stopped himself. "I can get you a towel. Will you be alright?" Remus nodded, smiling a little. "Right. One sec." He squeezed Remus' hand and then he was gone. Remus could hear him opening a drawer in the kitchen, turning on the tap. Remus blinked at the ceiling as the blurry swirl of shapes and colors became something coherent in his head and the fog began to lift from his thoughts, slowly but surely. Sirius was back in a few seconds, as promised, pressing a damp cloth into Remus' hand. 

"Thanks," Remus breathed. He wiped his mouth haphazardly and with little regard for aim, and he moved his tongue around the inside of his mouth, trying to figure out where the damage was. It seemed like it was just the side. He'd probably caught it between his teeth at some point. "How long was it?" Sirius checked his phone. 

"Two minutes, two seconds," he replied. Remus nodded. 

"Can you write that down?" he asked.

"Already did," Sirius nodded. And huh, that did something in Remus' chest that made him feel a little snap. He didn't really know what it was, exactly, but he had to force back something hot building behind his eyes, electing to simply nod instead. "You alright?" Sirius asked gently. 

"Tired," Remus supplied simply, and his throat felt a little sharp. 

"Do you think you'll have another one?" he asked hesitantly, but Remus shook his head. The aura was blissfully gone, satisfied. "Do you want to go lie down?" Sirius proposed. "I mean, not on the floor. Couch? Bed?" Remus nodded again. 

"Bed sounds nice," he rasped, pushing himself up on his elbows. Sirius put a hand around his chest, guiding him upright. The world swam a little in front of his eyes and he blinked to clear the stars in his vision. 

"Can you stand?" Sirius asked. Remus laughed a little. 

"I don't think you could carry me," he smiled, shaking his head.

"Well, maybe I've been working out," Sirius pouted, and Remus raised his eyebrows. "Alright, fine, I haven't been working out." Remus laughed again. 

"I know," he said. He rocked himself forward, attempting to use the momentum to stand, but his left leg buckled a little under him. Sirius caught him around the waist, keeping him on his feet. 

Sirius moved slowly with him, one foot in front of the other, like he was remembering how to walk again, and he was very gently deposited onto Sirius' bed. When he did, Remus turned onto his side and pressed his face into the pillows and breathed in deep. It smelled like Sirius, like his shampoo, like the paint he used on the cars he fixed, a bit like tea leaves and rain. Sirius ran a hand up and down his back. 

"I'm gonna go put the food away, okay?" he murmured. Remus felt a pang of guilt in his chest. "I'll be back." Remus knew it was true, but something in him wanted to latch onto Sirius and pull him to his chest and never let go, to absorb all of that warmth like stars colliding. Instead, he nodded. 

There were the sounds of dishes clattering, water running in the sink, the fridge opening and closing. He tried to convince himself that he hadn't ruined the evening with very little success. 

When he was young, in the hospital, all hooked up to wires and monitors and covered in sticky nodes on his forehead and skull, he remembered watching the EEG screen and waiting for the spikes and crashes and sharp lines that would show up when his neck twitched or his legs spasmed, and in those little lines, he'd picture faces, angry and scary like halloween masks or carved pumpkins or ghosts. He'd picture them laughing at him, taunting him, haunting him from the outside, because it was easier than thinking that this was part of him. 

Now, he was older, but he closed his eyes and saw those lines and pictured them laughing at him again, and he felt like a child still. 

The bed dipped, and he was swept out of his own head, opening his eyes to see Sirius climbing onto the mattress beside him. 

"Still alright?" he asked. Remus just nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. It was in the after that he felt all sorts of things crashing over him in waves, exhaustion and guilt and sadness. Sirius scooted his way over and Remus leaned back a little, letting him tuck himself against his body, and then folded himself back over Sirius' torso and chest like he was a koala on a tree. Sirius had made that comparison once. It was Remus' favorite way to cuddle up to him, Sirius flat on his back and Remus clinging to him tightly and Sirius carding his hands through Remus' hair, and just staying like that until they fell asleep. 

Except now Remus felt that guilt again, teetering on the edge of a crash, threatening to drown him, because this wasn't right. This wasn't what they were supposed to be doing. They were supposed to be eating dinner, making jokes, watching that tall, stupid candle burn down to the bottom, and then they were supposed to puzzle out how they were supposed to get candle wax out of the woodgrain on the table, and Remus wasn't supposed to feel like this, all disoriented and confused and like he couldn't really keep his thoughts all lined up in the same direction, and it didn't feel fair. 

It wasn't fair, and his breath hitched, and then Sirius did the terrible, awful thing of asking, "are you okay?" and that really did it. 

He buried his face into his shirt and made a really rather pitiful, wet noise, and he wrapped his arms around Sirius' waist a little tighter like somehow he'd float away. 

"Moony?" Sirius urged, a little panicked, and that just made it worse. "Hey, hey– what's wrong? What is it?" He felt Sirius push his hair off of his forehead with his fingers, gently tucking it behind his ear, and he kept his fingers against the back of Remus' head and rubbed little circles there. 

"Sorry," Remus mumbled into his shirt. 

"What's wrong, love?" Sirius asked softly. He felt Sirius' other hand come to rest against his back, and the softness of it all made Remus cry harder. "It's alright," Sirius murmured. "Hey, come on. It's alright." 

"I ruined dinner," Remus said, or tried to say, but it really came out rather muffled and unintelligible because he didn't lift his head to say it. 

"I can't hear you, sweetheart." There it was again– sweetheart. Even now, it made Remus' stomach flutter a little. Sirius' voice rumbled lowly in his chest, and Remus squeezed him harder. He realized that he didn't really want Sirius to hear him, because that would only make Sirius feel guilty as well, and there was no reason for them both to feel like this, honestly. 

“Sorry,” Remus repeated instead, and then very suddenly he felt the wave lift a little and his thoughts cleared just enough to think rationally. And rationally, this felt a bit like a silly thing to feel guilty about, and then he felt guilty about feeling guilty, but he really couldn’t control it at this point, and then it was sort of funny, honestly, and then it was sad that it was funny, and funny that it was sad that it was funny, and all of this at once forced Remus to take a long, shuddering breath in. “Ugh,” he said, because it felt like a pretty accurate word for this.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked again, and Remus turned his head just a little so he wasn’t completely face-planted into Sirius’ chest.

“I’m all wobbly,” Remus mumbled between hitches in his breath. 

“Wobbly?”

“In my head,” Remus sighed, which he knew probably didn’t make any sense at all. “I’m, like… emotionally wobbly,” he clarified, though clarified was a loose term here.

“Emotionally wobbly,” Sirius echoed, and Remus could hear a hint of a smile in his voice. “Anything in particular you’re wobbly about?” Remus felt the corners of his mouth turn up, because it sounded so funny when Sirius said it, not at all like a bad thing. 

“Stuff,” Remus breathed, wiping his eyes on the back of his wrist. “Things,” he added. 

“Right,” Sirius said. “Wobbly about stuff and things. The worst things to be wobbly about, really.” Remus laughed wetly, a giggly sort of thing. 

“Ugh,” he said again. 

“Ugh,” Sirius nodded, running his hands through Remus’ hair again, and Remus leaned into the touch. 

“Was that scary?” Remus asked. Sirius paused, thinking about the question for a moment, which meant that whatever he said next was probably going to be the truth. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, and Remus winced a little. “Just a bit. I didn’t know if I was doing everything right, and… well, scared isn’t really the right word, actually. Worried, I think. Concerned.” 

“You did it right,” Remus assured him, and the hand at his shoulder squeezed. “I felt very safe,” he added truthfully. There was another pause, and Sirius held Remus a bit tighter.

“Good,” he said very, very softly. “I’m glad.”

***

It was so beautifully cruel how much Harry Potter managed to look like his father. It was as though every day he grew a little more into James’ eyebrows, his nose, the curve of his smile, the roundness of his cheeks, the delightful bubbliness of his laugh, the sharpness of that cry. Harry looked like James, everyone said, except his eyes; he had his mother’s eyes.

Euphemia had heard this from everyone who ever knew James and Lily. She had heard it since the day Harry was born, since the moment Lily held him in her arms, since the second James had leaned over and seen Harry’s eyes blinking open at him, as if the universe had looked upon her grandson and decided, in no uncertain terms, that this was James in all ways but one– just the eyes. Because Harry had his mother’s eyes. 

And oh, how Euphemia tried to convince herself of it. How she prayed to any god and every god who might listen that she could see it, that she could look at Harry and see anyone else, anyone besides her son. That she could see him as anything other than her boy. The only thing she has of her boy that’s just him , that’s only him. And she tried, and she tried, and she tried, and it was never enough. Because that was James. Harry didn’t have his mother’s eyes, because to her, it was all just James.

How could it be anyone else? 

“And that’s…” Remus leaned over, narrowing his eyes at the photo on the page. “Oh,” he murmured. There was that flicker of recognition in his eyes, staring at the album, the same recognition everyone had when they saw, and she braced herself a little for it. “They look so much alike,” Remus mused. 

“Yes,” Euphemia sighed. “They do, don’t they? That’s what everyone says.” 

“Sirius told me Harry looked just like his dad,” Remus blew out a breath, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ve only ever seen– I’ve never seen a baby photo of him. They’re identical, aren’t they?” 

In the photo, James was grinning; he was tiny and round and his arms were bunchy and soft and he was reaching for the camera with thick, stubby fingers. He was 22 weeks, here. He was sitting on his dad’s lap, and Fleamont was holding him against his chest, his hand tight and tense just like he always was when he held James. Monty had never outgrown that, really, even as James got older– that bubble of anxiety, the tension in his hands when he held onto his son, a dreadful fear of dropping him. He had that fear when James was born, and when he was two weeks, and when he was two years, and when he was twenty years. Every time Monty held his son, he had that fear of dropping him, somehow. So little had changed.

“They act the same, too,” Euphemia sighed, flipping the page. “Little troublemakers, the both of them.” She looked over at Harry where he was napping peacefully in his rocker. Only maybe an hour before, he’d ripped several of Monty’s mustache hairs from his lip and waved them around like a prize. “Terribly rude babies, too,” she added.

“I’m, like, eighty percent sure Harry’s flipped me off before, honestly,” Remus muttered, and Euphemia laughed, tipping her head down a little to avoid being too loud. “Who’s that, then?” Remus asked, pointing to the next page. 

“That’s Monty,” Euphemia smiled. 

“No,” Remus gasped, leaning forward. “Really? Where’s the mustache? I thought he was born with it?” She stifled another laugh, waving her hand a little. “He looks awfully grumpy, doesn’t he,” Remus noted. 

The album in front of them was all baby photos. Lily had made it for them, a terribly fun game of guess who in trying to name all of the faces that had evolved into people they loved. Euphemia and Remus were sitting on the couch, Remus crossing his legs casually underneath him– a level of comfort that Euphemia was frankly rather proud of encouraging in the several weeks since she’d met Remus for the first time– and they were flipping through albums quietly together. Every so often, one of them would find a photo, one Remus had a question about or one Euphemia had a story about, and they’d trade comments back and forth in quiet contemplation. 

And Remus was, generally, quiet , she found. She had never pictured Sirius with someone quiet right up until the moment she met Remus, and then it sort of made sense in that opposites attract sort of way. 

But they were quiet now, together, because it had been a very, very long day, and apparently they faced their exhaustion in much the same way. 

Because today was July 31st, and it was Harry’s birthday. 

And it would only continue to be his birthday for another twenty-seven minutes. 

Euphemia and Remus were alone in the living room with Harry, which seemed an odd sort of combination, but Fleamont and Sirius had gone off together to mourn in a way only a father and son could mourn a son and a brother. Euphemia wondered if, when Fleamont had led a silently crying Sirius off by the hand, she would have to stop Remus from following them. But it seemed Remus was coming to know Sirius quite well, because he only tapped Sirius’ arm gently as he walked, and Sirius ran his fingers along Remus’ fingers in return, and that was that. 

It was these last twenty-seven minutes that it seemed Sirius could no longer be around Harry. He could be here to see his godson turn one, to celebrate, to eat cake and laugh as Harry threw fistfulls of icing to the ground and smash it into his hair, and he could walk around the neighborhood and sit and have tea and try not to say what they were all desperately trying not to say, but it was now, in these last twenty-seven minutes, that Sirius simply couldn’t do it. 

He could watch Harry turn one, but he couldn’t watch him begin a new year without his father. In twenty-seven minutes, Harry would be one year and one day , and the one day felt infinite. 

So it was Euphemia and Remus and Harry, and a pile of photo albums, and an old antique grandfather clock ticking away in the corner that had been an heirloom in Fleamont’s family for generations and which now felt a bit like a rude sort of reminder. 

“This is also Fleamont, then?” Remus asked, pointing to another photo. 

“No,” Euphemia corrected, “his brother. Charlus.” 

“Charlus,” Remus echoed. 

“Yes, yes, they’ve all got very odd names, haven’t they?” Euphemia laughed softly. 

“I don’t think I’m one to judge,” Remus shrugged.

“I don’t think any of us are, dear,” Euphemia noted, and Remus seemed to consider this for a moment. Euphemia could practically see the list forming in his head; Remus, Sirius, Regulus, Euphemia, Fleamont…  

“We’d be a nightmare at a coffee shop,” Remus mused, and Euphemia raised her eyebrows. “They’ve got to write the names on the cups,” he explained, and she made a soft oh sound and covered a smile with her hand. 

“Sirius tells me that’s how you met,” she said, and Remus blushed a very adorable shade of pink. Oh, to be young and in love, she thought. “He said you knew how to spell his name, and that did it for him,” she shook her head, smiling. “His words.” 

“Sounds like something he’d say,” Remus pursed his lips. “So… Charlus.” 

“Yes. And then Monty’s parents– Josephine,” she pointed to a rather old photo of a rather grumpy baby. “And Edgar.” 

“Well, those names aren’t terrible,” Remus shrugged. “How’d they come up with Fleamont?” It was Euphemia’s turn to shrug. “Alright,” Remus turned the page, and then his eyes widened a little. 

“Oh, you recognize him, huh?” 

“Oh my god,” Remus breathed, and then giggled a little, leaning forward. “Oh my god. That’s– that’s Sirius.” Euphemia couldn’t help but grin at how childishly excited Remus was at realizing this. “He looks exactly the same. How old is he here?” 

“Something like six months,” Euphemia replied, and Remus huffed out another quiet oh my god. “We’ve got Regulus to thank for these photos,” she added. “He stole them from his mother one year on his seventeenth birthday.” Remus frowned. 

“Regulus went back?” he asked hesitantly, and Euphemia saw how his face pinched in concern. Ah, she thought. So you told him?  

“No, no,” she waved a hand. “Only to visit. Much to Sirius’ dismay, of course, but at least he brought some spoils back with him, hm?” This seemed to satisfy Remus at least a little, though she wondered if he might ask Sirius about it later. 

“That’s Regulus,” Remus said assuredly, pointing to a photo on the opposite page. Euphemia nodded in confirmation. “And… hm. Andromeda?” he guessed, and she nodded again. 

“I’m impressed,” she said. 

“She’s the only other one Sirius ever talks about from his family,” Remus shrugged. “They’ve all got quite a look about them, don’t they? Very regal.”

That was a great word for it, Euphemia thought. Regal.

Remus turned the page, and even though Euphemia knew what was next, it still made her heart twinge just a bit. Remus narrowed his eyes at the photo a little, but she knew he recognized this face. These eyes. 

“Lily,” he said simply. 

“Yes,” Euphemia replied. And she knew what was coming, because everyone said it– they always said it, without fail, every time they saw her, and they saw him, and they’d put the two together. 

“He’s got–” Remus started, but Euphemia cut him off. 

“Remus, dear,” she said gently, but her voice shook a little. She placed a hand over his where it was thumbing the next page of the album. “I’m sorry, but– please– please don’t say what you’re about to say.” 

Remus was silent. Euphemia was aware that he was staring at her, confused, perhaps, or concerned, or even just contemplative, but it made her ache a little just knowing he was watching. 

“I know,” she breathed, squeezing his hand a little. “And I– I really can’t hear it, right now.” There was another silence that stretched between them, and then Remus squeezed her hand back a little as well. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. She shook her head. 

“It’s just that everyone says it,” she sighed, looking down at Lily’s photo, and she felt a strange sort of feeling right then– a bizarre need to confess. It was now twenty-one minutes until Harry was one year and one day, and she felt a need to confess. “And I just don’t see it,” she breathed, and felt infinitely lighter. “I just don’t see it, isn’t that strange? Since the second he was born, everyone’s just agreed. Oh, he looks just like–” her breath hitched a bit. “Just like his father. But he’s got his mother’s eyes. But I just can’t see it. Isn’t that so awful of me? I can’t see it. It’s just– it’s just James.” 

She looked over at Harry, sleeping, dreaming, maybe, and it was just so beautifully cruel, wasn’t it? How much Harry Potter managed to look like his father? 

“My James,” she choked, and placed her face gently into her hands. And she was glad, then, that Sirius wasn’t there to see it. A mother could only cry in front of her boys so much, you see, before it began to weigh on the soul. And she felt a bit guilty as well, because she could cry in front of Remus, now, but what if he became her boy as well? Sirius seemed rather certain about the certainty of all this, after all. How did she start going about collecting sons? It was a rather strange hobby, she thought.

Remus was quiet, just as before, and he placed a hand gingerly across her shoulders and held her just a little in a very awkward sort of way, like he didn’t really know what to do. She didn’t really know what to do, either. But she had so far learned a simple art in the practice of grief, which was to cry, and then to stop crying very shortly after starting, and to still feel a great deal of relief from it. And so that’s what she did, here. 

“Oh,” she tutted, “pardon me,” and she lifted her head, dabbing at her eyes gently with the back of her wrist, and Remus looked equally as startled by this as he had when she started crying in the first place. 

“It’s… er– it’s alright,” Remus said, though it was a bit more of a question than a statement.

“Awfully difficult times, these are, hm?” she sighed, looking down at the photo of Lily again, this chubby little ginger baby who had never done anything cruel in her entire life, and now Euphemia was erasing her from the image of her grandson. Euphemia blew out a slow breath.

“I don’t think it’s awful of you,” Remus murmured quietly. She glanced over at him, but his eyes were also trained on Lily’s photo. “Not to see it.” She hummed. 

“It’s a bit selfish, though, isn’t it?” 

“No,” Remus said definitively– so definitively, in fact, that he seemed a little shocked with himself. Euphemia was a little shocked with him as well. “Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly. “But… you’re not selfish for– for holding on to what you had.” Had, she thought a bit numbly. Past tense. “Harry looks like James,” Remus finished simply. “Your James. That’s all he has to be, for you.” 

“Oh,” Euphemia said as she was left with little words left to say and little breath left in her lungs. 

She understood a bit more why Sirius had so much certainty about this one. He was so sincerely opposite to Sirius, and also so very opposite to James as well, and in a moment where everyone seemed to remind everyone else of the same someone, Remus was a bit of a welcome sight. 

“Thank you, Remus.”

Later, when the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room heartlessly struck midnight, stirring Harry from his sleep, Euphemia would think about Sirius, and how the sound would reach him, and how he’d cling to his father and mourn his brother and cherish his son.

And there were so many things that Euphemia could never ask Sirius; things like what will he call you? and what will his first words be? and how will you tell him what happened to his dad? She supposed, though, that the last one was a question for all of them, and a question none of them could answer, just yet. Because how did you think about things like that, really? How were you supposed to idly consider the ways in which you’d tell your grandson that his father was– that he’d never– and how were you supposed to explain why no one was ever called dad or mum, or why there were so many people, here, but none of them looked quite as much like– well, there weren’t words, she supposed. There simply weren’t. Maybe there would be, eventually, but for now there were none. 

This, she thought rather guiltily, was convenient, only because Harry also had no words, and so he could not ask these questions quite yet, and so she felt as though she had a bit of time left still to gather some inkling of what to say. 

***

“Do you want to move in with me?” Sirius asked. 

Remus choked on his coffee so violently then that Sirius was pretty sure he heard it bubbling around in his lungs. He tipped forward, attempting to set his drink down once, and then twice because he missed the little café table the first time, and placed a hand against his chest as he hacked up a hazelnut latte. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, oh my god,” Sirius spluttered, thumping Remus on the back. “I should have prefaced that with something, christ.” Remus kept his head ducked but waved a hand haphazardly, wheezing something that was completely unintelligible, and then went back to coughing. “I just knew I was going to psych myself out, and I’ve been trying to ask for weeks now and– oh, dear,” he cut himself off as Remus sucked in a breath. “I should have waited until you finished your drink,” he mused, because hindsight was always 20/20. 

“It’s fine,” Remus choked out, and then coughed a bit more, and Sirius looked around at the few other people in the café worriedly. He mouthed he’s fine to the barista at the front. They were at a coffee shop downtown, pausing for a break mid-shopping-trip because apparently, Sirius was a bit dependent on coffee now to function, an addiction he had lightheartedly blamed on Remus. 

“Do you want water? I’m going to get you water,” Sirius asserted, standing, but Remus grabbed a hold of his wrist and sat him back down. 

“I’m fine,” Remus breathed, and then coughed a little more, and then breathed again. 

“Sorry,” Sirius said again, sheepishly. 

“You– okay,” Remus shook his head like he was clearing away cobwebs. “Hold on.” He cleared his throat, rubbing his chest a little, and he made a soft little whoo sound. “Ask– ask that again. What?” Sirius’ mouth went a little dry. See, this was why I asked it out of nowhere, he thought, because now I can’t ask it again.  

“Well– I– okay, listen,” Sirius said, and Remus did that thing where he raised his eyebrows just a bit like he was about to smile but he was holding it back for some reason, and it did nothing to help Sirius’ fluttery little heart. “I was just thinking, you know? I know it hasn’t been like, crazy long, but– I mean, people get married faster, Moony, honestly, and no one–!” he choked a little, because oh, christ, that’s not what he meant to say. “Not that I’m proposing or something! I’m just saying– well, I think it’s– okay. Listen,” he said again, a sorry attempt at a reset. 

Remus took a sip of his latte, not choking this time, but didn’t say anything, and Sirius really refused to look at his face just now because then he’d really stick his foot in his mouth. He took a breath. 

“I just think… we really just click, you know? And you spend a lot of time at my place, and I spend a lot of time at yours, and it really just– it kind of sucks having to leave. And I’m not… going home alone sometimes just doesn’t feel right, cus it’s not… with you. Wow, that’s… that’s corny. Sorry,” Sirius shook his head. “And I’ve thought through the logistics a bit, too, and I feel like it makes sense, like, practically.” So romantic, nice, he thought sarcastically. “We don’t exactly live close by, and you can’t drive, so that makes it a bit harder to see each other. And I love your flat, I really do, but it’s got all those stairs, and you’ve complained about the shower before, and my place has got the lift and we’ve already got the seat for the tub and all that?” 

He realized that Remus was nodding along to all of this, which gave him a little bit more boldness to continue. 

“And I’m not just writing off your place as an option, but it’s small– and that’s not a bad thing– but we’ve got Harry, you know?” He realized a little belatedly that he had said we’ve got Harry and not I’ve got Harry but he was already barreling along before he could overthink that too severely. “And, if you wanted, we could also look at new places. Other places. Together. That’d be… you know. Great.” 

He was realizing now how often he said you know, like it was sort of a safety blanket, like he was praying that Remus did, in fact, know.  

“And you can say no,” Sirius added. “By the way. We can stick with having each other’s keys. I quite like having your key. It’s just… I wanted to throw the option out there.” Throw the option out there was a very light way of putting it, frankly. Sirius had sort of hurled it like a javelin, one he had been weighing in his hand for a long time before having the confidence to release it. “And Harry likes having you around,” he finished quietly. “So there’s that.” 

Harry wasn’t with them right then– Regulus and Andromeda were babysitting, taking him to some new museum where you could touch everything. It was one of the reasons why Sirius had decided that now was a good time to ask, because he felt like it would be a little manipulative of him if he sat Harry in front of Remus and told him he could still say no, because Remus adored Harry, and that felt a bit unfair.

Remus cleared his throat a little, settling back in his chair, and Sirius finally mustered the strength to look at his face. He had his lips pursed just slightly, his eyebrows pinched but not frowning, and he was resting two fingers very lightly on his bottom lip like he did sometimes when he was thinking. 

“Okay, so…” Remus started, and Sirius’ stomach dropped through the floor even though he had no idea what Remus was about to say. “First of all, yes, so you can stop freaking out.” Sirius’ stomach flew back up from under the floor and went straight to his throat instead. His eyes widened a little, and Remus breathed a laugh at the look on his face. “And second of all, I was trying to find a way to bring that up for, like, forever, but it seemed a little rude to ask if I can move in with you, because honestly my flat really isn’t even built for me, nonetheless all three of us.” 

"You were... you were thinking about it, too?" Sirius had sort of gotten stuck on that bit.

"Well, yeah," Remus shrugged, but he was blushing a little. "I mean, like you said... it feels right. I don't like sleeping alone." 

Well, that was a very simple way of putting it, Sirius thought. How come he couldn't just say that? That was what it boiled down to, really. He didn't like sleeping alone. He didn't like being alone. He didn't like knowing that sometimes, he'd come home, and he'd be alone– about as alone as he could be with Harry of course– that they'd be alone, then. And wouldn't it be nice to come home to someone? Not to someone . To Remus. 

"And I like having Harry around as well," Remus smiled. "For the record." 

"Well..." Sirius breathed, leaning back in his chair. He realized his heart had been sort of hammering away in his chest for the past several minutes, and it was only slowing just now. "Lovely," he finished. Remus stifled a laugh, taking another sip of his coffee. 

"You really wouldn't mind if I moved in?" Remus asked, and now it was Sirius' turn to (nearly) choke on his coffee. 

"Mind?" he repeated incredulously. "Moony, I'm asking you to." 

"I know, I know," Remus waved a hand. "But it's– you know, I'm– and with Harry– well, it might– you–" 

"You're not really saying sentences, love," Sirius pointed out gently, and Remus sighed, shaking his head. 

"I'm really not, am I?" he hummed, and then went quiet for a minute, finding his words. Eventually, he sighed. "I think I'll spare you all of the disclaimers, actually," Remus mused. "I think you'd be a bit upset at me."

Sirius could take a pretty good guess as to what Remus wanted to say, because he had given Sirius many a warning and disclaimer and caution in the past, harboring a good deal of guilt on many occasions about the support he often needed. Marlene had told Sirius that he was always like this, even when he was in grade school. Then, he also bore a terribly bitter embarrassment about it all, and for a time, Marlene had been fairly certain that he’d become a bit of an agoraphobe because of how much anxiety he had regarding the way people looked at him. Though, Sirius though, a bit wasn’t a great way of putting it. Remus would hide himself away for weeks at a time, and would leave the safety of his mum’s house only to go to doctor’s appointments. 

And Sirius learned about all this because he had texted Marlene one night several weeks ago after Remus had sort of shut himself away. 

They’d been at the grocery store earlier that day, and it struck Sirius how quickly a perfectly normal day could turn so quickly, because all it took was some idiot group of teenage boys (because wasn’t it always teenage boys?) snickering at Remus. And it really was such a small thing. He’d fumbled and dropped a can of soup (because he’d picked it up with his left hand and hadn’t quite convinced his fingers to grip it hard enough for its weight) and he couldn’t quite figure out the best way to lean down and pick it up without fumbling it again (because that day was a particularly wobbly day) and Sirius knew that it was the little things like this that Remus preferred to puzzle through on his own (because he was independent, and it genuinely wasn’t because he couldn’t, just because he needed a bit more time ). 

And in hindsight, Sirius really wished he’d just picked up the can for Remus, because Remus’ momentary frustration at being helped would have been significantly more preferable than the awfully bitter look on his face when the boys laughed and nudged each other, and it would have been infinitely, innumerably, exceptionally better than the way Remus’ face drained of all color and his body physically recoiled when one of them muttered something truly awful under his breath when he passed by.

And for all Sirius wanted to ream them out for their cruelty, he didn’t really know how socially acceptable it was to tear into a random group of teenagers in public, nor the legality of threatening to hit them with his car, he also didn’t think that Remus would appreciate it. In fact, he knew with a great degree of certainty that Remus would hate him for it. And so Remus had shut his mouth, set his jaw, and not said another word until Sirius dropped him off at his flat and offered to come in and help him put away the groceries and Remus had simply said no. And then, quietly, thank you. And then, after a pause, see you tomorrow.  

Sirius had texted Marlene, who called him instead of texting back, and she had told him that Remus just needed a bit of space, and that unfortunately, nothing Sirius had to say on the matter would be anything new, or anything Remus hadn’t heard before, or anything Remus hadn’t told himself before. And that it was also a good thing that Sirius hadn’t threatened to hit them with his car, because once, Marlene had punched one of their classmates for spitting the same word at him when they were teenagers, and Remus hadn’t spoken to her for four days. (Though she noted, to Sirius’ delight, that Remus probably couldn’t go four days without speaking to Sirius , and probably also couldn’t go four hours without speaking to Sirius either, and that he would talk himself through his feelings well enough on his own to arrive on the other side with an appropriate degree of anger and a healthy dose of self worth.)

Remus had come a long way, it seemed, both in his mentality and his perception of the world around him, but it had clearly been an arduous, difficult process. And Sirius felt a sort of painful longing, too, a wish that he had known Remus when he was younger, to see him how he was before just so that he could appreciate who he’d become. 

And now he’d come so far as to stop himself before even making an attempt to push Sirius away, and that was certainly something lovely, wasn’t it? 

“I’ll spare you the disclaimers about Harry as well, then. It’ll be a mutual restraint,” Sirius smiled, and Remus smiled right back at him, and they were sat there smiling at each other like two idiots in love. 

“Nothing you could tell me about Harry would make me cherish him any less,” Remus said, and Sirius laughed. 

“Well, that’s a rather mushy thing to say, don’t you think, Moony?” 

“Mushy?” Remus demanded, mock offense crossing his features. “I’m mushy because I care about a baby? Your baby?” 

“Yes,” Sirius smirked. “Very mushy. Soppy, even. Terribly soupy.” 

“Soupy…?” 

“That… wasn’t the right word.” 

“No, I think not,” Remus shook his head. “Sappy?” 

“Isn’t that the same as soppy?”

“I dunno, you’re the one making fun of me,” Remus laughed. “Pick your insults better.” 

“It’s not an insult,” Sirius defended himself. “It’s an observation. You’re terribly sappy, and awfully mushy, and a bit of a romantic.”

“Oh, I’m a romantic , now, am I?” 

“Very much so, actually,” Sirius mused, swirling his coffee around in his cup. “Swoony!” he exclaimed. “That’s what I was going for. Not soupy. Christ.” And then he giggled a little and said, quietly and rather proud of himself, “ swoony Moony.”

“Oh, sod off,” Remus laughed, kicking Sirius’ shin under the table.

“Come on, that was good,” Sirius batted Remus’ foot away. “Swoony Moony. It’s a wonder I haven’t thought of that before, honestly.”

“Truly, considering you call me Moony every other sentence.”

“I really do, Moony, don’t I, Moony? It’s just that it’s so lovely, Moony, I really can’t help it–”

“You keep calling me that so much, it’ll wind up being Harry’s first word,” Remus shook his head, smiling. 

“Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely?” Sirius sighed almost dreamily before he thought much about what he was saying, because oh, wouldn’t it? Remus blinked at him, a surprised sort of look that made his eyes a little wide, and then his ears turned red. Sirius felt himself blush a little as well. “Probably a good bit better than dickhead or pissed, because lord knows I say those ones too much.” Remus opened his mouth a little but no sound came out. “What do you think he’ll call me?” Sirius asked quietly, looking down at his coffee. He’d asked the question a hundred times to himself, but he hadn’t ever said it out loud, he realized. 

Remus leaned forward, putting two fingers underneath Sirius’ chin (and, as always, Sirius found himself wondering if this was his left hand or his right hand, because that mattered at least a bit) and then he placed a very gentle kiss against Sirius’ lips. Sirius hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until they fluttered back open and stared into Remus’, soft and warm like a campfire, and from this close, Sirius could practically map out constellations in the freckles across his nose. And then Remus smirked. 

“Dickhead, probably,” he said.

***

If you saw them, you’d think they were in love. 

And if you watched for long enough, you’d know. 

You’d watch, and you’d see how they looked at each other, and how they touched each other gently and softly and carefully and intentionally, and how they cared for each other, and you’d be able to feel it, if you tried, like it was in the air, or like you could touch it, like it would be warm and velvety or slippery like silk. 

And it would be in simple things, like how one handed the other his coffee, and how one took the other’s arm, and how one leaned his head against the other when they sat on park benches. 

It would be in quiet moments when the world was still and anything but lonely, and they would say little things that meant bigger things that didn’t need to be said because they both knew them already, and you’d overhear about how one thought the fridge might be broken because the creamer went bad, and how the other remembered that they needed to do laundry, like desperately, because he was on his last pair of socks, and how they had to buy a spare key so that someone or someone else or someone else again could come and watch the baby, and how they had to call someone to fix the sink, and how they would watch something funny on TV when they got home because this had been a long day.

You’d see them, and they’d be so strange together, like one was a puzzle and the other was a deck of cards, or like one was a romance novel and the other was a thriller, or like one was punk-rock and the other was classical, but they were always sort of in the same category of things, so it made sense.

You’d see them, and they’d be a little sad sometimes, or a little worried, or a little scared, but one would be a rock and the other would be an anchor and they’d figure it out, always, because that’s just how they were.

You’d see them, and they’d be in love.

***

It was a car. 

It was a wrecked car. 

The front was crumpled in, metal folded like an accordion, windshield completely shattered, and inside, the driver's and passenger's side seats were torn to shreds and bent, steering wheel tipped forward and hanging strangely. Both side-view mirrors were gone. The right of the car was dented in as well, toward the front, a sort of crater. 

Remus blinked at it once, twice, the weight of it settling into him like he was being pulled down slightly. Distantly, he remembered something he couldn't possibly remember; himself, as a child, sitting in the back seat of his father's sedan, only a seat belt strapping him in, no car seat. He didn't want to bother with it. It was just a quick trip, after all. And then he was learning how to walk again.

"It's James' car," Sirius murmured. He was sitting on the ground to the right of the door into the garage, his legs pulled up slightly, elbows resting on his knees, and Remus could tell he'd been crying– he'd been crying the way he always cried about James; silently, by himself, and far away from Harry. 

It was a car.

Remus had never seen it before. Sirius had rented out three of the little shed-garages that lined the back road behind the apartments. In the first one, there was his car–  Sirius’ car– and his motorcycle, and quite a lot of spare parts and cans of paint and bits of metal. 

Remus had seen the second garage from time to time, always containing a vintage something-or-other, mid-repair, and usually when he came out it was to tell Sirius that he’d been out there far too long, or that he needed to come eat lunch, or that he was grumpy and lonely and Sirius needed to come spend time with him and not whatever car he was working on because Sirius really did get lost in what he was doing sometimes. 

The third garage, Remus had never seen until now. He’d assumed it was storage, maybe, probably filled up with boxes or car parts or something meaningless and easily forgotten because Sirius never mentioned it. But Sirius hadn’t been in the first garage, and he hadn’t been in the second garage, and so Remus had checked the third garage, and opened the door, and here he was, and here it was.

It was a car.

The leftovers from the wreck told their own story, here. The tires jerked sideways meant that they'd skidded. They'd been hit from the front first, and then the side. They'd been cut out of their seatbelts. And Remus thought, perhaps a bit too objectively, that there was no way the driver had survived the impact at all. It was probably quick. Remus hoped it had been quick. 

"It's James' car," Sirius echoed, and Remus let out a breath, processing this slowly. He sat down gently next to Sirius, moving carefully. Sirius moved his legs, letting his hands fall into his lap, and he leaned his head against Remus' shoulder. "He was driving." 

It was probably quick, Remus thought again. He didn't say anything. Sirius huffed a laugh, then, and it took Remus by surprise.

"When I got my motorcycle, he was so mad, you know?" Sirius breathed. "He told me I was gonna get myself killed on the road. Pancaked was his word, actually." 

Sirius reached over and took Remus' left hand, holding it in his lap as well, and started absentmindedly running his fingers along the inside of his palm. Remus had never felt much resentment toward the numbness he felt in that arm, reserving that specific emotion more for his brain, but he hated it now. He wished he could feel the patterns Sirius was tracing. 

"Lily just told me to wear a helmet." Sirius's hands shook a little, and his chest tensed like he was holding something back. Remus did his best to squeeze his fingers around Sirius'. "I don't..." he began, but his voice cracked heavily, and he swallowed, breathing in and out until it wasn't rasping in his throat. "I don't know how to be... I'm not who I was, then, anymore. Not– not without them here. I think... I think if you met me, before, I'd be different." Sirius lifted Remus' hand weakly, tapping it down again against his legs a few times like a child waving his arms during a tantrum. "It's just not fair, you know?" 

Sirius smiled, and then laughed once, harshly, and then he was crying, properly crying, in that ugly terrible way that people cry when everything feels numb, and it feels cold, and it feels like the only thing that makes you a person right then is to make it loud and awful and violent and to force it out so hard your stomach aches and your throat burns. 

And Remus wrapped his arms around him, not gently at all. He held him tight and rocked him stiffly and stifled his breath so that Sirius could feel the hammer of his heart. Sirius was holding onto Remus desperately, his hands clawing until they felt secure wrapped around Remus' chest and he dug his fingers into Remus' ribs on either side and pressed his face against Remus' collarbone. He cried harder that Remus had ever seen him cry, harder than he cried at Harry’s birthday, harder than he cried when they’d had to take Harry to A&E because he’d gotten a stomach bug, harder than he cried when Andromeda called to tell him she’d got into a little fender-bender, and she was fine, but she didn’t want him to hear it through the grapevine. He dug his fingers in and made awful sounds and cried.

And it wasn't fair. 

It was a simple truth that echoed and reverberated in so many things; that Harry was not old enough to remember James or Lily, that they would not see his first day of school or his last, that they would not toast him at his wedding or meet his children or celebrate his birthdays and light candles and set them in icing and tell him to make a wish, that they would not see him make a wish, that they would probably be the subject of his wishes now; that they would not buy a house or a dog or rent a summer home, that they would not plan their retirement or put away savings or move to a bigger house or move back to a smaller house; that Remus would not meet them; that Remus would not know who Sirius was with them; that Remus would never meet Sirius the way that Sirius had known himself for so long. 

And it wasn’t fair. It was James’ car, and it wasn’t fair. James had been driving, and it wasn’t fair. It had probably been quick, and here was Harry, and here was Sirius, and here was everyone left behind, and it wasn’t fair.

It was a long time before Sirius' breath stopped heaving and catching and rasping in his throat, and even longer before he stopped shaking, and longer still before he released his iron grip around Remus' ribs and shifted himself so that he was supporting just a bit more of his own weight. He rested against Remus' side and nestled his head against his shoulder and just breathed, for a moment, in a sickly sweet sort of tired way.

"It's James' car," Sirius repeated, and it was almost a plea. "I can't just... I can't just get rid of it," he whined. "And I was gonna repair it, because that's what I do , but I can't– I was– but I- I can't fix it." He gestured uselessly to the car. "I can't fix it, I can't. I can't fix it." He was a broken record, but he didn't have any tears left to cry, and so he was just repeating it, helpless, his voice failing him. Remus squeezed him around the shoulder. 

"Do you want to try?" Remus asked. Sirius made an awful noise, and Remus' heart felt too cold and too small. 

"I have tried," Sirius rasped. "I come out here and I try, and I just stare at it, and it ends the same way every time. I can't fix it, Moony. I don't know how. It'll never be the same." 

Remus really didn't know if Sirius was talking about the car or talking about everything else, but he supposed it didn't matter much. 

"No," Remus murmured. "It won't." Sirius' breath shuddered out of him. They said nothing for a while, sitting and staring at the car, thinking, breathing. 

"Do you think he'll blame them?" Sirius asked quietly. "Harry... do you think he'll blame them? Because they’re not here?" Remus' stomach lurched.

"Do you?" he asked. Sirius had a physical reaction to that, flinching like Remus' words burned him, and he jerked himself upright and stared at Remus’ face with some combination of agony and determination crossing his features.

"No," he blurted out urgently. "No. No, I– of course not." 

"Okay," Remus said, moving his fingers idly over the back of Sirius’ hand. "Why?" 

"Wh... because they– it wasn't their fault. They were... it wasn't their fault." Remus nodded. “But what if he– what if he doesn’t get that? What if he doesn’t believe me? I don’t– I don’t know how to get him to believe me,” Sirius choked out, and he leaned his head forward against Remus’ chest again. “What if he doesn’t understand? They– they weren’t– it wasn’t–” 

Remus blew out a slow breath and steeled himself for what he was about to recount.

"My dad was driving, too," he said. Sirius went very still. "When we crashed, my dad was driving, too. He didn't put me in a car seat, even though we had one. We were… we were just running to the store and back. And I was too short for the airbag, and the seatbelt got jammed, so he just sort of left it, and then he ran a red. Mum was at work." 

Remus hadn't really talked about his dad before, he realized. Not to Sirius. Not really to anyone. Everything that needed to be said had always been between Remus and his mum, and even then, they understood each other so well they didn't even need to talk about it. 

"It was his fault," Remus added– factually, objectively. "And I blame him. I do. Maybe that's mean and bitter, but I do, and my mum blames him, because he made a choice. But James and Lily... they did everything right." 

Remus could only guess at this, but he knew in some fantastical way that he was correct. He knew they wore their seat belts. He knew Harry was in a car seat, probably the most expensive one, crash tested, rear facing, straps fitted perfectly over his chest. He knew James used his turn signal, stopped for yellow lights, checked his blind spot religiously, never rolled through a stop sign, waved on pedestrians. He knew Lily checked his messages for him so he never used his phone in the car, and read out directions so he didn’t have to lean over to see them, and quieted down when he was merging onto a busy road so it wouldn’t distract him. She checked Harry’s car seat, and then James checked his car seat, and then she checked it again, just in case, and that was why Harry was still here.

"They did," Sirius insisted. “They did everything right.” 

"It was an accident, Sirius," Remus said. "Harry won't blame them any more than you do." There was a very still, very silent pause, and then Sirius nodded against Remus’ chest. Remus rubbed his hand over Sirius’ back, feeling the way that Sirius’ breathing slowed, how it stopped hitching in his throat, how it evened out to something familiar and less painful, and Remus kept is eyes trained on the car–  James’ car. 

He wondered how often Sirius came out here and did this, just sat and stared at the car and destroyed himself over it. How often he asked this question, if Harry would blame his parents for this. How often he’d try, and fail, and come back later.

"You haven't mentioned your dad before," Sirius noted softly, in the way that he often did when he had a thought and just said it right away, especially when it was something he was curious about. Sirius squeezed Remus’ hand a little. "Is he... did he–" 

There wasn't really a way to ask if someone's dad was dead, Remus realized, and so he saved Sirius the trouble.

"No, he's– my mum left him. I don't know where he is now, honestly," Remus shrugged with the shoulder that Sirius wasn't leaning against. "There was… well, you know, a lot happened, after. And it was his fault. So she… yeah.”  

"Yeah," Sirius murmured. "We should go see your mum again soon," he added thoughtfully, and Remus breathed a laugh. "What?" 

"Nothing, sorry," he shook his head, because of course that would be what Sirius took away from that revelation. "She'd like that." Remus felt Sirius smile against his shoulder. Remus leaned into him a little. "You don't have to fix it, Sirius," he sighed. "And you don’t have to get rid of it. It can just... it can just stay like this, for now. And then you can make it something new, if you want. When you're ready. Yeah?" 

Remus was not talking about the car, but whether or not Sirius knew that, but he supposed it didn't matter much.

"Yeah," Sirius echoed, and Remus thought that he might be genuinely agreeing. He kept running his fingers across Remus' hand, and after a pause, he said, "can I ask you a question? Unrelated." 

"Sure," Remus replied. “Always.” Sirius shifted, pushing himself off of Remus’ chest. He brought his other hand down, ghosting his fingers across Remus’ palm.

"What can you feel, here?" Sirius asked, holding Remus' hand in both of his own like it was a fragile sort of object and pressing his thumb gently into the skin under his forefinger and pinky. 

And Remus thought that was a funny question, because no one had ever asked him that before, actually, aside from doctors. But they didn't really count, he thought. And he was pretty sure he'd only really mentioned the nerve damage in his arm to Sirius just once.

He pursed his lips a little, holding back a smile, and shifted his arm out from behind Sirius' back. He put his left hand palm up into Sirius' right, and he put his other hand over Sirius' left, guiding it. 

"Anything to the right, here," Remus said quietly.

With Sirius' pointer finger, he traced a line very slowly down the inside of his ring finger, across his palm, curving a little toward the right, and then traveled the touch down over the heel of his palm, over the long vein in his wrist, and drifted off as it approached his elbow where the line between numbness and sensation became blurry for him. 

"Oh," Sirius said, keeping his fingers gingerly against Remus' skin. "It goes up your arm, too?" Remus hummed, nodding, and Sirius ran his fingers back and forth over that hazy divide. "I didn't know that," Sirius mused as though that had changed something in his mind. 

He trailed his fingers back down Remus’ arm, cupping his hand again, rubbing little lines up and down along the right side of Remus’ palm. He took a deep breath in, and then blew it out slowly, and then–

“I love you, Moony,” he murmured, and there were fireworks under Remus’ skin where they were touching. “Did you know that? I don’t think I’ve said it, yet. I love you. I love you so much. You’re just lovely, you know? You’re just so easy to love. Did you know that?”

Remus swallowed, and there was something thick and sweet in his throat that was spreading in his chest, and he wondered if Sirius could feel it beneath his fingertips. Easy to love. Remus hadn’t known that, actually. 

“I love you, too, Sirius,” he breathed, and Sirius honest to god giggled just like he had when they’d first kissed, because he really never could hide when he was happy, could he?

“Do you really?” he asked, and he looked up at Remus with those starry gray eyes. “Do you really really?” And then Remus laughed, too, because he couldn’t help it.

“I do,” he grinned, “I really, really do.” Sirius threw his arms around Remus’ neck, crashing against him like a wave, and he held him closely and pressed little peppery kisses into his shoulder and neck and up to his jaw and across his cheek, and then he caught Remus’ face in either of his hands and pressed their foreheads together and breathed him in. 

“I’m so happy, you know?” Sirius murmured, his eyes closed softly like he was sleeping. “I didn’t know if I’d ever… but I’m so happy. You know?” 

Remus put his hands on Sirius’ waist and leaned forward until their lips were pressed together, and Remus had to think, absentmindedly, that they really fit quite well with each other, didn’t they? They really, really did. 

“I love you,” Sirius said again as they parted, breathlessly, like Remus had drawn it out of him, like he’d drawn out his soul and this was what it looked like, and it was all Remus.  

“I love you, too,” Remus said, and then because he hadn’t yet said it by itself, “I love you.”

***

i could not ask you where you came from

i could not ask you, neither could you

honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

we could just kiss like real people do