A/N: Hello, all! First of all, it's been at least four years since I've written fanfiction of any capacity, so... I feel kind of like I'm sleepwalking through the steps of getting this out to you. It's like mega-deja vu. This story is a funny little brainchild. Part of it was written a few years ago, part of it was written in the last few days. Reviews/comments/hellos are always, always welcomed and appreciated. Thank you for reading!
The night James tied the knot, Remus found a shaggy black dog curled at the foot of his bed. He swept aside any ill-fated aspirations of rest, slid his feet into slippers, and padded to the kitchen, where he quietly filled the kettle with water and set it over the stove. He leaned against the counter, studying yesterday's Daily Prophet. The headlines were dour.
Without a word, Sirius claimed a chair and watched Remus rustle through the paper and fill two mugs, by hand, with steaming water. They were silent as it steeped. Sirius absently levitated the salt and pepper shakers, yawning.
Sirius finally said, "You're peculiar that way, you know, no magic before breakfast- that's the way the dark side catches you unawares."
"You're not welcome in my home," said Remus, deadpan. He set the tea before Sirius and raised his own mug to his lips. Sirius laughed, a gruff little bark. "Take pity, Moony. I'm still hung over from the reception. There was extra kick to that firewhiskey."
"I wouldn't know. You drank the lot."
"I was just melancholy. Being melancholic. I was happy, what happened? They're so young. They don't know what love is, the fucking lovebirds. It goads me."
Remus watched Sirius wrap his long white piano fingers around the mug. The movement made him restless. Little knots formed in his gut.
"Lily makes him happy," Remus said.
Sirius replied, "Oh! Yes, yes, she is quite eudaemonic." Remus was too distracted by those fingers to comment on Sirius's diction. "You always make the best tea, mate. James looked like a fucking adult up there. Fuck. It's maddening. He's off doing important things like marrying girls and I'm here. Just sodding static. You don't have a stash, d'you?"
Remus understood. Remus often understood Sirius, more than blokes liked to admit, usually. The loneliness got to him as well. Some nights he would have done anything to sleep in his old four-poster again. His flat, though snug, was not home like Hogwarts was home. He was afraid of never locating the elusive concept again.
He arose slowly and opened a cabinet.
"Vodka, preferably," Sirius said. Remus put down a couple of shot glasses. "You're beautiful. I'll leave as soon as I'm done brooding."
Remus wanted to tell him to stay, stay, just this once- but the words curled up in his throat.
"To binging, then," Sirius announced. He took a shot and made a face. "Not wise. Tea and vodka? Fucking horrid."
He filled Remus's glass and watched him swallow the shot.
"You were fine at the ceremony," Remus said. His throat burned. Sirius studied his face thoughtfully; his eyes lingered on his eyes, his nose, his lips, his chin. They held him still.
"I felt old," he said. "I was fine until I felt old and then I just wanted to see you."
"You saw me at the ceremony. You had eyefuls of me."
"Don't tease," Sirius said. "I'm being honest."
He downed another shot and licked his chops. It was enough to make Remus hard.
"You'll get hitched someday, won't you," Sirius said. Remus was not sure if it was a question. In any case, the answer was no.
"I expect so," Remus said instead. "Pass the drink before you finish it. I want mine."
"Do you want a pretty young lass, Moony?" Sirius asked, holding the vodka bottle close to his chest.
"I suppose. Give me a drink, will you?"
"Do you want tykes?"
"Don't be difficult, Sirius."
Sirius looked furious. "Do you?"
"Everyone expects it, don't they?" Remus snapped, suddenly furious himself. "Give me the drink, Sirius!"
He wrestled it away and poured himself another shot. He took it shakily while Sirius watched.
"You're a poof," Sirius said suddenly.
Remus wanted to bury his head in the sand somewhere in the Sahara.
"You're a poof," he repeated.
"Don't be ridiculous."
Sirius's eyes were smoky and dark.
"You like blokes, don't you? You wank off to blokes, don't you? Oh bugger all, Moony, I've always known. I know you."
"No," said Remus. His heart raced. "Stop being obscene."
Sirius worked his wand between his fingers, studying Remus thoughtfully. Some tricky flourishes and their cold tea rose up from their mugs in the shapes of four quivering creatures: a rat, a stag, a hulking dog, a wolf. They galloped in the air, moving in and out of one another. Sirius and Remus watched the creatures for what felt like ages.
Remus had to admit, Sirius's spellwork was particularly inspired when he was sloshed. He thought for one startling moment that he might cry.
Sirius guided the tea-creatures back to their mugs. He put his arm around Remus's shoulders and pulled him to his feet.
"C'mon, dear Moony, I want to show you something."
It was a motorcycle. A flying motorcycle, Sirius claimed. Parked on the Muggle street near Remus's favorite all-hours coffee-house. Remus didn't get out much, except on Order business, but he found time to visit Muggle shops- they made him feel inconspicuous and settled. No one in the Muggle world thought for one second that the young man with the scars was a werewolf. Why would they? In the Wizarding World it was an enormous red flag. Remus was always discovering new scars. He had enough to map out the London Underground, he was sure of it.
Sirius made a gesture of grand presentation, like he was unveiling the motorcycle, and grinned at Remus. "Enchanted it myself. I was going to give it away to Prongs, you see, a brilliant wedding gift if there ever was, but I reckon Lily wouldn't've been too pleased."
"You're just showing off, you loon," Remus said, grinning too despite himself. "Where'd you learn all this magic? If I remember, Hogwarts was only a playground to you."
"Shut your trap," said Sirius good-naturedly. "Listen, Moony, I want you to witness its maiden voyage."
"Good Merlin, Padfoot, you don't know if it actually flies?"
"Have you no faith?" Sirius patted the motorcycle affectionately. "It'll fly. I have to get home somehow, yeah? I've already left dog hair on your sheets, sorry about that..."
Remus felt his smile drop from his face. "Oh, yes, of course." He crossed his arms. "Though you could just apparate like the rest of Wizarding society."
"The Ministry is bloody mysterious these days, mate. For all I know I could still have the Trace on me. Wouldn't put it past my family to monitor my activity, at the very least."
"Oh, Padfoot, you and your conspiracies."
"So you are going to watch me fly?"
Remus shuffled some pebbles between his feet. When he looked up again, Sirius was peering into his eyes. He looked eager and wild.
"I -" Remus started. "I'd rather not."
"Moony-"
"I'd rather you stayed," he blurted out. "With me. Tonight. You don't have to," he added quickly. "I realise how ridiculous I must sound..."
"Not at all," said Sirius. He touched Remus, softly, on the neck. "You know," he added, "you look quite gorgeous in the moonlight. I've never told you that. Usually you're transforming, and that tends to take priority."
"Was there moonlight?" Remus said quietly. "I didn't notice."