Being sixteen is awkward. It's too tall and too short and too skinny and acne all wrapped up in one gangly body of awkward. And then there's dating and kissing and sex, but Remus never thought he'd ever have to worry about any of that at sixteen. Until he started dating Sirius Black, that is.
Sixteen doesn't look awkward on Sirius at all. He's tall and pale and gorgeous without even trying. He's got no blemishes or overly long limbs, and he moves with more grace than any sixteen-year-old boy should be capable of. It's no wonder he has no insecurities with his body. He likes when people look at him; he smirks at their stares and plays up their desires with ridiculous winks and eyebrow quirks.
But Remus doesn't feel that way, and he thinks he probably never will. He won't ever be graceful and beautiful the way Sirius is, and he's okay with that, honest, but he'd really appreciate it if his body would settle the fuck down and just look normal thank you very much.
Sirius, however, doesn't seem to understand Remus' insecurities at all. He likes to take Remus' shirt off and just look at him with a big, fond grin on his face, using his fingertips to tickle along Remus' scars. He likes to tell Remus that he's attractive and sexy, and Remus wants to believe him, and maybe he does, except that he really doesn't. How can Sirius – gorgeous, funny, beautiful, unscarred Sirius – think that someone as ordinary as Remus is attractive? He's biased, right? Because they're dating and it's basically Remus or no one. But he's so convincing, and Remus thinks that if he keeps it up, Remus might actually start to believe him.
There are days when they sit next to each other in class, and all Sirius has to do is look at Remus a certain way, and Remus can feel the heat crawl up his neck to stain his cheeks. It's the look Sirius gives him when they finally finally get the dormitory to themselves. It's the look Sirius gives him when he pulls Remus' pants down over his hips to press a kiss to the head of his cock.
Remus has to avert his eyes immediately and avoid looking at Sirius for the remainder of the lesson just to keep his trousers from noticeably tenting.
And Sirius knows it.
When class is dismissed, Sirius will hang back, let Remus think he's gotten away, then he'll come up behind him in the middle of the corridor and tug him behind a tapestry or into a broom closet to set his skin on fire with his fingers and lips.
He'll ignore Remus' weak protests that someone could see them, could find them, with a gruff "don't care" as he pushes at the robes on Remus' shoulders. When his lips find Remus' chest, slicking over a nipple, Remus relinquishes what's left of his meager self-control, pushing Sirius' head down, down where he really wants it, deciding that he really doesn't care if someone finds them because this is just too good to wait for.
And when it's all over and they're a pile of loose limbs on the hard floor, he realizes that he still doesn't care because, really, it was worth it. Sirius will stand and fix his clothing, holding a hand down to Remus to hoist him off the floor, and he'll smile softly at him, saying, "You're beautiful, you know," before helping Remus back into his robes because his legs are still jelly and he can't really comprehend how Sirius can possibly think that, except that he can because he can see it in the lines of Sirius' smile and the brightness in his eyes as he looks at him.
Yeah, Remus thinks as they sneak out of their niche and head back for their dormitory, sixteen might be awkward, but Sirius makes it feel okay – maybe even better than okay. Remus might even hold his shoulders a little straighter as he twists his fingers between Sirius' with a quiet smile and a light heart.