Sirius glances down at the contents of the glass in his hand, the firewhisky trembling like the ocean before a storm; he's half certain that the tumbler will shatter if he grips it any harder. He exhales and he loathes himself for the way his breath shudders and shakes.
"Remus, come on! Dance with me!"
An angry fissure shoots down the side of the cup, and Sirius quickly downs the rest of the alcohol—ignoring the punishing burn—before placing the now-ruined glass on the end table beside him. In his peripheral vision, he can see his younger cousin pulling Remus up from an armchair and to the open space in the middle of the sitting room.
12 Grimmauld Place is teeming with members of the Order of the Phoenix, and tonight has been declared an evening to unwind. They've spent the better part of the last week arguing around the kitchen table for hours on end, and Molly has had quite enough of their bickering—thank you very much. In a very stern and motherly fashion, Molly took it upon herself to lock them all out of the kitchen when they arrived as she began to whip up dinner, forcing them to congregate elsewhere.
This is how Sirius found himself sitting in an ornate, overstuffed armchair, listening to the buzz of conversation and the scratch of the record player, desperately trying to resist the urge to look over at Tonks as she laughs loudly and tugs Remus down to whisper something in his ear. He runs a hand over his face and rolls his eyes, looking up at the ceiling and willing it to swallow him whole. He has half a mind to make a getaway and retire early for the evening, but he knows that Molly will never let him hear the end of it if he cowers upstairs with his tail between his legs. She sees right through him; he's fucking pathetic.
"All right there, Sirius?"
The sound of Bill Weasley's voice pulls Sirius from his dark thoughts, and he slips an easy grin on his face as he turns to face him.
"Been worse, that's for sure."
The two idly chat about mindless topics as Sirius refills his glass, having offhandedly muttered reparo when he realized he was going to need far more to drink to temper down his emotions for the rest of the evening. He navigates through the conversation on autopilot, only feeling slightly guilty that he's incapable of affording Bill his complete attention.
Sirius barely realizes that the other man has up and left to oblige Fleur in a dance as the record player begins to hum an upbeat tune; he's too busy glaring as Tonks' lips get alarmingly close to Remus' cheek. A possessive growl sits on the tip of his tongue, jealousy that leaves him feeling achingly guilty. Remus Lupin does not belong to him—he never has and he never will.
They are fourteen and they are running down an empty corridor in the middle of the night. Filch is not far behind, and so they hide in an inconspicuous broom closet. They are pressed up against each other in the small space, and Sirius feels his heartbeat speed up. He puts a fraction of distance between them, and he hears Remus exhale nervously.
They are fifteen and it's the night of the full moon. James and Peter have detention, so Padfoot runs alone with the Wolf through the cool, dewy grass and into the inky darkness of the Forbidden Forest. He accidentally falls asleep after they tiredly slink back into the Shrieking Shack, and wakes the next morning beside Remus' sleeping human form. He fights the urge to gently brush the hair from his forehead, and hastily exits before Madam Pomfrey arrives.
They are sixteen and Sirius is in the hospital wing with a broken leg; he fell off his broom during a stormy Quidditch match. Remus sits in the chair beside his bed, soaked from head to toe, with a face full of worry and something else that Sirius' hazy mind can't quite figure out. Remus opens his mouth to speak, but Sirius is already drifting into a dreamless sleep.
They are seventeen and in the common room, celebrating their final year at Hogwarts. They are caught up in the moment, passing drinks back and forth and leaning close to exchange drunken, incomprehensible jokes, and they almost kiss. Neither of them says anything about it the next morning.
They are nineteen and James meets them at his and Remus' shared flat, and they head out for an evening at the bar. Sirius watches Remus kiss a bloke for the first time and he's stunned into silence from across the room. He apparates back home without warning, and pretends he's asleep on the couch when Remus returns to their place with the man later that night.
They are still nineteen and Sirius is a fucking coward. James tells him as much when he's finally had it with Sirius moping at his and Lily's place every other night.
They are twenty-one and everything has gone to shit and Sirius is scared and angry, because he doesn't know who he can trust anymore.
It is November 1st, 1981, and it is the worst day of Sirius Black's life. His mind slips toward the pitch black brink of insanity, careening back and forth between wanting to destroy Peter and wanting to destroy himself. His last thought before the darkness swallows him whole is "What will Remus think?"
Sirius resolves to spend the rest of the evening pretending not to care, until he picks up on an almost imperceptible shift in Remus' demeanor. They may have spent more than a decade apart, but Sirius knows Remus like the back of his hand—closed off and a bit aloof to all those but the people that have earned his trust. Since she joined the reformed Order, Tonks has been persistently flitting around Remus' closed-up walls, determined to see the man crack a smile. Which is why Sirius' heart sinks as he notices the tension in Remus' shoulders finally drop, a genuine smile creeping across his face. He laughs, and the raspy chuckle is music to Sirius' ears; he fucking hates it.
People have begun to trickle out here and there, and Sirius mutters "Fuck it" as he stands up to head upstairs for the evening. He's played nice long enough, and if he sits down there any longer he's bound to snap. He slinks up to his room, paying no mind to anyone else still mingling, and shifts into Padfoot the moment that the lock on the door clicks into place. The clamoring of his mind begins to settle, and he revels in the simplicity of the canine thought process. It's a cheap way of avoiding his problems, but Sirius doesn't have the patience for sleepless nights anymore after twelve years in Azkaban.
The next morning, Sirius sits at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, nursing a hangover. He hadn't gotten wasted, but being dry for over a decade had quite an effect on his alcohol tolerance. Remus points out as much with a small smile as he walks in shortly after. Sirius doesn't look up but he can hear Remus rummaging around in the cabinets. A few minutes later, the chair beside him scrapes across the floor as Remus pulls it out and sits down. He finally looks up to find a cup of hot tea sitting in front of him; he mutters a quiet thank you.
The two sit in somewhat companionable silence, until the sound of footsteps announces someone else entering the room. Sirius can't wipe the shock off of his face fast enough as his gaze settles on Tonks, and the words tumble from his lips, unfiltered, "Bloody hell, Moony. Would've given you the key to the honeymoon suite last night if I'd have known you two were shagging already."
Remus chokes on his tea as Tonks laughs loudly and replies, "Should really get your mind out of the gutter, yeah? I slept on that stuffy old couch out there, my dear cousin. Firewhisky and apparition don't mix too well for me."
Sirius feels the back of his neck prickle with embarrassment, and looks back down at his tea as if it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. "Ah, right. Of course," he says halfheartedly.
Tonks makes a show of elbowing him when she walks past, and mutters, "Bloody git." Remus hums in amusement.
The two men find themselves alone once Tonks bids them farewell, and Sirius momentarily panics as he wonders if Remus will confront him about his childish outburst. However, the fear is short-lived, as Remus informs him that Dumbledore's sent word that he's needed for another covert mission. Sirius tries not to let himself visibly sag; Remus was gone for an entire month the last time that he left.
He leans against the doorway of Remus' bedroom as the other man packs a meager suitcase for his trip. He's trying to act casual but he can't help the way his stomach clenches as his eyes drift over to the soft, rumpled sheets on Remus' bed.
Remus considers Sirius for but a moment before he leaves—the space between them is cavernous and the silence is deafening.
And if Sirius sleeps in Remus' bed while he's gone, it's really nobody's business. It's his goddamn house, after all.