Written for QLFC for the Falcons. Big prompt was having a make up after an argument for my OTP, other prompts were How Long Will I Love You, poor, and "Keep looking at me like that, I dare you."
His fingers are still stained with nicotine. He doesn't smoke, Sirius knows, not anymore, but he can see the yellow on the tip of each long finger. He used to adore those fingers, the way they moved when he talked, how they'd grip a wand so easily even when their owner was flustered. He loved the way they touched him, fingers intertwining around his own, how they'd rub up and down his arm, the way they felt on his warm skin.
"Keep looking at me like that, I dare you."
Remus is smiling slightly, and Sirius knows he is only joking. Sirius is glad; he doesn't think he could stop his stare even if he tried.
Things have changed. Things have changed in ways Sirius could never have imagined before. If you'd told him when he was twenty that he'd go to prison for betraying James and Lily Potter, he'd have never believed you. He would never had been able to look at a picture of tired, gray Remus and recognize him as the young man he'd been in love with.
The man he was still in love with. But for how long? How long will he be able to stand this Remus, the one who has changed so much? He doesn't know what he will do if he loses his love along with everything else.
"We need to get out, Sirius. This isn't healthy."
He looks at Remus, and is surprised to see that his smile is wide now, large enough to make Sirius forget how worried and tired he is.
"Where do you wanna go?" he says. "Dumbledore told me to stay low."
"He can't expect you to stay in here forever," said Remus. "Holing up in this apartment isn't my idea of a good time."
"Funny," says Sirius. "I'd have thought you'd do whatever your precious Dumbledore told you to."
Remus's face quickly turns red at that, and Sirius feels bad. He didn't mean to say that, it just came out. Everything he tries to say ends up turning out nasty and bitter.
"Where were you thinking of going?" he asks.
"We could go to a coffee shop," says Remus. "Or the museum. Or...or the zoo. Anything."
"As Padfoot?"
"As you," whispered Remus, a strange look passing over his face. "I just want to walk around the city with you, Sirius. Even if things can't be the same as they were before...I want to walk with you, at least once."
Sirius is at a loss of what to say, so he smiles and stands. "Sure. I don't think I've got anything to wear."
Remus laughs. "I've got a pair of jeans or two."
The band t-shirt Sirius picks is outdated; Sirius thinks he recognizes it. Likewise, the jeans are threadbare and ripped. He doesn't say anything. They both know Remus is poor.
Remus wears a similar outfit, and Sirius secretly thinks Remus looks far better in his version. Remus is far taller than he is; that, combined with how little he weighs, makes the shirt a tent. They are both worn inside and out, but Remus wears it better.
"Where are we going?" asks Remus as they lock up. "Coffee shop, zoo, or museum?"
"Wherever we end up," says Sirius.
Sirius is glad Remus doesn't live in London. If he did, he'd have to be Padfoot, or he'd have to disguise himself. No, Remus lives as far from Wizarding society as possible while still being in England.
Speaking of which, it was raining. Drizzling really, but as Sirius steps out onto the street, he doesn't care.
"The sky's as gray as we are," he says.
Remus nods and doesn't reply.
He leads the way, even though he has no idea where they are. They walk in near silence, Remus occasionally pointing out a historical landmark or remarking on an interesting bird. Remus has learned these past twelve years, even as he has suffered. All Sirius did was the latter.
They end up in a small tourist shopping area, full of cobblestone streets. Sirius thinks they must look very out of place, two thirty year old men wearing clothes designed for men ten years their junior. Remus with his scars and Sirius with his tattoos. Sirius decides he likes this and grabs Remus's hand.
"What are you doing?" asks Remus, the tone of his voice a mixture of pleased and confused.
"I'm holding your hand," he replies, squeezing Remus's bony fingers.
They do indeed attract a few odd looks as they walk down the the sidewalk, enough to make Remus turn beet red, but Sirius honestly does not care. At one point, this is who they were. If he wants to relive it for a bit, who's to stop him?
Sirius is barely paying attention to the signs when one catches his attention- record shop.
"Record shop?" he says incredulously. "You told me no one uses records anymore."
"That's basically true," says Remus. "CDs have mostly replaced them. But sometimes people buy them, for old time's sake."
The word for that is on the tip of Sirius's tongue, but it slips away from him at the last moment, falling back into the pile of memories the Dementors have taken from him. "What's that called?" he says quietly. "The word for that?"
"Nostalgia," says Remus, in a tone that does not imply that he thinks Sirius is stupid. He is grateful for that.
The record shop is nothing like the ones Sirius remembers. Instead of vibrancy and brightness, the store is dark and musty. None of the LPs are new, all with faded covers and many with scratches. Sirius thinks it is fitting.
"I'll buy you one," says Remus.
"You can't affo-"
Remus cuts him off. "Yes, I can. I can spend my money on whatever I want to. Pick one out."
Sirius spends longer than he is willing to admit perusing the bins, remembering half the records from, not his childhood, because that certainly hadn't involved things like Muggle music, but times in the dorm with the Marauders, listening to The Beatles on Remus's ancient record player. Later on the played records in their apartment, when it was just Remus and Sirius and their LPs, but it hurts to remember then, so Sirius doesn't.
In the end he picks a record he doesn't know because the man on the cover is wearing a motorcycle jacket and is riding a gorgeous bike, and that is what Sirius likes to remember himself as. All Remus says is, "Interesting choice," and pays for it.
They are halfway home before Sirius grabs Remus's hand again, and they are in the doorway by the time Sirius kisses Remus while he fumbles with the keys.
They are in the apartment when Remus kisses back and Sirius puts the record down. There is no going back, Sirius thinks as he deepens the kiss.
"Promise me," says Remus, breaking apart, his voice scratched and rough, from what Sirius isn't certain. "Promise me that, even if it's only a month, we won't ever break up again. I can't handle this otherwise."
"I promise," says Sirius, and kisses him again.
Reviews are love! I know the argument wasn't super obvious, but what's a worse breakup than betrayal and going to Azkaban?