N/A: Sirius' terrible behaviour is mainly the result of me being rather tired and grouchy. Another little snapshot of Remus and Sirius' relationship post Azkaban
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of J., and extra points go to people who can spot the Oscar Wilde quote :)
Sick to the Back Teeth
"…And shit when she gets started I could kill meself…"
"Join the club," Sirius muttered as he put down his glass, fed up to the back teeth of Mundungus and his rant about fucking Molly Weasley. Dung, shit at taking a hint, continued to twitter on until Sirius, in one recently rehearsed movement, transferred his glass to his right hand and lobbed it at the mildewed wall above the petty criminal's head.
"Woah!" Mundungus yelped, throwing his hands over his head to protect him from a shower of broken glass. "What the 'ell was that for?"
"It was to encourage you to get the fuck out, Dung," Sirius said amicably, taking another swig of his bourbon. "And if you say another word, I'll take your eyes out."
Sirius decided that Mundungus had never exited a room so swiftly or quietly in his miserable little life. Glassing people was clearly a worthwhile occupation.
The door banged shut but he could still hear Mundungus muttering frantically to whoever was on the other side and rapidly advancing up the landing.
There was a lull in their whispered conversation and then the door creaked opened. Sirius' heart sank into the dusty floorboards.
"Glassing people tonight?"
"It's a good deterrent," Sirius muttered, twisting the bourbon bottle between his hands. Remus' calloused fingers fastened around the bottle neck.
"I value my eyes," he said, and slid it from Sirius' grasp.
"You'd better toddle off then," Sirius growled.
Instead, Remus lent forward and kissed Sirius' forehead, as if he were little more than an errant child.
Sirius turned his head away, retreating between his own personal curtain of dark hair. "Why you here, Lupin?"
"Why do you think, Black?"
"Because you're bloody irritating, because you can't leave a damn thing alone, because you don't know what's good for you, because you want to know the secret to the fucking universe," Sirius listed emotionlessly. "Fuck knows."
"How about," Remus murmured, his face mere inches from Sirius'. "Because I want a shag?"
Sirius' breath rattled as Remus' straddled him over the rickety attic chair, his erection digging into his thigh.
"Shit," Sirius groaned. "And Molly thinks you're a fucking angel."
"Angels have their off days," Remus murmured, biting on Sirius' bottom lip, his fingers already tugging at his belt. "And I can always resist everything but temptation."
"You got your shag," Sirius muttered as they lay, spent and side by side on the filthy attic floor, naked in the gloom. "You gonna piss off now?"
"No," Remus smiled at him, taking the cigarette from his pale hand and taking a deep drag on it. "I'm not."
Sirius regarded him critically. "You don't smoke, Lupin."
Remus shrugged, and sighed. "I developed many bad habits when my lover was imprisoned for betraying and murdering my school friends. I imagine a few cigarettes were only my due."
Sirius snatched it back. "You're gorgeous enough without it," he muttered huskily.
Remus laughed darkly into the antic gloom. "So much for your insistence that I should smoke."
"We were kids," Sirius shrugged, dismissively. "It was the 70s. Everyone smoked."
"And so it pissed you off that I didn't." Remus closed his eyes. "You were a terrible rebel."
They lapsed into an uneasy silence, watching the smoke from Sirius' fag drifting between the shadows.
"You've never told me," Remus murmured finally, "Where you went after Azkaban."
Sirius' expression darkened. "You know where I went," he said vacantly. "You met me in Mumbai."
Remus sighed and then let the silence pool in between them again, until Sirius hissed out a last lungful of smoke and said,
"After Mumbai, I went to Burma." He held his hands up to the shadows and inspected his scars and tattoos, as if the back of his hand would recount his travels for him. "And then I had a run in with the Ministry in Suriname, so I went somewhere they wouldn't look for me."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Go on," he murmured.
"I went to the West Bank," Sirius smiled, dropping his hands to his side with a soft thud. "It was the year of the Oslo Accords. I was the last thing on their minds. I stayed in Bethlehem for a good three months before Harry hit problems and I decided to move closer."
Remus smiled. "Only you could run to a war zone."
"I would run back," Sirius said, surprising himself with his sudden intensity. "I would run back a thousand times. House demolition and water shortages to hell, it was beautiful there."
"Take me with you," Remus reached for Sirius' hand in the darkness. "Don't leave me here again."
Sirius turned to look at his friend, his lover, greying, battered, scarred by the dire deck life had dealt him and tracing his fingers over the back of his hand said, "You know I would have stayed with you."
"But you didn't take me with you."
"No," Sirius murmured. "I didn't. But I came back."
"It took you long enough." Remus closed his eyes, felt the rotting floorboards beneath his thinning hair, the pressure of Sirius' fingers against his hand, smelt the musky air of the attic as it swished in and out of his tired lungs and tried to picture the heat of Bethlehem in early summer. Imagined stalls that spilt out into the road and a bustle of people shouting in a language he would never understand. Wondered at how it would smell, what the ground would feel like beneath his feet. Imagined the moment when it became to hot to stand on and it was necessary to begin the hunt for shade.
Knew it to be beautiful.
"Take me there," he whispered into the darkness. "I'm fed up of imagining."
Sirius smiled, and rolled over, nuzzling his nose against Remus' neck. "Fuck me again," he murmured. "And I'll take you to the moon and back."