These are based on a tumblr post by p0cketf0x.
Tw for mentions of anxiety.
"Have a good day at work."
Smart-casual.
What does that even mean?
Sirius stares himself down in the mirror – his hair has never looked glossier, his eyeliner is absolutely on point, his highlight is making him fucking glow. His outfit on the other hand – he's not so confident. Which is less than ideal, considering today marks his first day at Queerllustration, where, judging by what he'd seen at his interview, he'll be surrounded by beautifully-dressed and well put together arty types; he cannot fuck up this look.
(Is it possible that he's pinning too much meaning on his make-up and clothing, and not enough on the actual this-is-his-first-day-working-at-Queerllustration part of things? Yes, very, but that's only because if he stops to think about that fact for even a second, then he will actually implode from anxiety – really, fashion is the only thing holding him together at this point).
A small part of him is livid at himself that he's not thought about this properly before now, but the other part – the half that accepts that he is a born procrastinator, far too used to being able to pull it out of the bag last minute and still get top marks, and will probably put off his own death out of sheer laziness – is lowkey impressed that he's doing this a whole two hours before he has to leave.
The Sia track in the background changes to something more dance-y, and Sirius absent-mindedly swishes his hips in time to the beat, lets his skirt fan out around his thighs as he surveys his reflection critically. What he needs, he decides, is a second opinion. Ordinarily, James would be delighted to advise, would probably demand a fashion show complete with lighting and music, but alas, he is already at school with Kingsley, organising his breakfast club for the disadvantaged kids of the area. Similarly, Lily's at morning classes, and then she'll head straight to work –
Decisions are so goddamn hard. Smart casual is so fucking vague.
He takes a calming breath, though it does fuck-all to actually calm him down, and then angles his phone carefully, before snapping a quick selfie. He drops it in to the group chat with "smart casual" and a string of question marks and thinking emojis. The replies come within ten minutes as he stews, trying to resist the urge to gnaw on his nails in nervousness.
Alice: slaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy [fire emoji]
Wormtail: [Brooklyn Nine-Nine gif of Captain Raymond Holt saying "hot damn!"]
Prongs: babe
Prongs: you are stunning
Prongs: utter perfection
Prongs: I am high key in love with you
Lils: I second everything J said
Lils: (dat eyeliner tho [okay sign emoji] [100% sign emoji])
Kingsley: yaaasss queen
Marlene: [thumbs up emoji] [crown emoji] [love heart eyes emoji]
Frank: u look great bud
His heart warms at their encouragement, and the ball of anxiousness that's been swelling in his stomach shrinks ever so slightly. Returning lovehearts to each of them (different colours for each person, obviously, and the sparkly one for James because he's hella extra), he pauses over Remus' name, where his message is still marked unread. He knows he's being daft – he has reassurances from almost all of the people he loves the most in the world, but he needs Remus' approval on this, because Remus always seems to know exactly what to say. And besides, he knows Remus doesn't have work this morning, because he'd made Sirius promise to ring if he needs anything.
Does this count? Probably not what Remus had had in mind, honestly – Remus goes for comfort over statement, though he has a unique and incredible ability to look cute in sweatpants and a holey jumper – but his opinion still holds a special place in Sirius' heart.
Things have almost gone back to normal between them after… whatever it was that twisted, warped and broke last week, and Sirius is fine, he is, and no, Prongs, he doesn't want to talk about it anymore, he's fine.
The crushing disappointment is an aching lump in his chest, exacerbating the anxiety and the insecurities that always lurk just beneath his ribcage, and he's cried and cried and cried (and sure, he's a crier, but even for him, this is A Lot), trying to batter his stupid heart in to getting over the warmth and love and everything that Remus is.
But yeah, he's fine.
(Shut up, Prongs, he will be fine).
Before he chokes up about it all over again, he jabs at Remus' number, holding his breath as the dial tone sounds, then waits –
And waits –
And –
Just when he's convinced himself that Remus isn't going to answer, and the panic lurches up his throat so fast he thinks he might actually vomit all over his lap –
"Moony – what does smart casual mean?" he says urgently, the second Remus picks up. (It takes a moment to register that the long wait means that Remus was probably sleeping, and the grogginess as he mumbles, "hello?" confirms this).
Guilt floods through him, as he hears Remus moving around – presumably sitting up in bed, rubbing at his eyes, squinting at the clock on his bedside table – and it's so fucking domestic that his heart aches for it a little. "Give me a second, Pads," he says, his voice still heavy and thick with sleep.
"Sorry I woke you-" Sirius begins, unable to stop the guilt from pouring out of his mouth. "I know you're probably exhausted – I just needed some advice – I – sorry."
"It's fine, Pads," Remus says, and he just knows that Remus is rolling his eyes at him, even though it's not fine that he disturbed his rest when he's already so tired, he's a shitty friend-
"Okay. What was the question again?" Remus asks through a yawn.
He takes a breath to thank whatever deity is controlling his life that Remus is so Good and kind and forgiving. "Smart-casual. What does that mean, I don't know what to doooo."
Sirius can hear Remus' smile, and the line crackles a little as Remus sighs fondly – because his phone is ancient and terrible and barely functions as a phone anymore. "What are you wearing?"
"My black skirt – the one with the pleats that goes all whoosh, you know?"
"Cute," Remus interjects, and Sirius' heart does a little swoop.
"Plus my black boots, tights, and my green blousey thing."
"Double triple cute," Remus says, "you look great in green." There's something about just-woken-up Remus that's even more wonderful than normal-Remus, and Sirius had no idea that such a thing was possible. This Remus is so openly affectionate, so soft, so warm - so wrong though because-
Sirius wrinkles his nose. "Red's more my thing."
Remus makes a noise of agreement. "I guess. You look good in all the colours."
Sirius heart sings. "All of them?" he asks – too soft, too fond, too obvious.
"All of the colours," Remus repeats, his words slurring slightly, and Sirius can tell he's starting to drift back to sleep – he's probably horizontal once more, his phone balanced precariously on one ear.
And he's selfish and the worst, but he doesn't want Remus to hang up yet, even though he knows that Remus needs all the sleep he can get. Because when he's talking to Remus, he can pretend like the anxiety stirring in his gut is just excitement, like it's something manageable that isn't going to chew him up and spit him out before he even sets foot outside.
"I just – is it too much? Should I just go all classic white-boy and do a polo neck and chinos, like?"
Remus makes a little pained noise, and it's honest-to-God adorable. "Nooo, why would you do that?"
Sirius flops back on to his bed with a sigh, a hand on his chest where it's sort of hard to breathe if he thinks about work too much. "I – I know I can be A Lot, sometimes maybe Too Much, you know? I want them to like me-"
"No, Padfoot, no no no," Remus sounds suddenly much more awake, the distress sharpening his tone. "Never. You're never Too Much, you're perfect, and if they don't like you, then-" he flounders, because it's early and his brain isn't quite caught up with his mouth yet. "Please never think that," he says, "you shouldn't have to change yourself when yourself is so utterly loveable and brilliant."
Sirius is slightly horrified to feel the lump in the back of his throat, partly because if he cries now, he's going to ruin his eyeliner, and partly because he adores this man with everything he has; every single atom in his body is hopelessly devoted to him, and perhaps always will be.
"I guess," he manages, after a pause, once he's sure that his voice isn't going to crack.
Remus lets out an "oomph" and a groan, and Sirius is about to ask what's wrong – probably in a voice laced with too much concern – when he hears a thrumming purr through the phone. "Is that Winky?" he says instead, unable to stop the childlike grin from spreading across his face.
"Yeah," Remus chuckles, "she says hello." The purring gets louder as Remus presumably holds the phone against Winky's chest, like the completely wonderful dork he is.
Sirius laughs, and the anxiety takes a hit. Not a large one, not enough to do lasting damage, but enough to hold it at bay for now. He loosens his grip around his chest. Breathe.
"Anyway," Remus continues. "Love, do you want to work in a place where you can't dress like yourself?"
Sirius closes his eyes, because Remus is right. He's always right, it floors Sirius every time Remus demonstrates just how well he knows Sirius. "No," he says quietly.
There's a moment of quiet, in which they just listen to each other breathe. It's soft and intimate and perfect, and for a minute, Sirius can forget that he's starting a new job in less than two hours, that he's going to have to deal with all these new people and responsibilities, and just be.
"How are you feeling?" Remus murmurs eventually.
Sirius starts to say that he's fine, then remembers who he's speaking to, and ends up making a noise like he's been trampled on.
"That well, huh?" Remus says, and Sirius laughs humourlessly. There's another pause, then Remus continues equally gently. "You know that I know that you're gonna fucking smash it. You're gonna go in there and blow them away with your brilliance and your talent, because that's what you do. You're gonna charm the pants off all of them, you're gonna look unbelievably cute, you're gonna have the best day ever."
Sirius screws his eyes shut against the tenderness in his voice. "But, what if-"
"Sirius. You're gonna make me proud – you're gonna make all of us so bloody proud, because you're not capable of doing anything less. You make us proud every day by being you. So, go out there, be yourself, make us proud, we will love you and support you no matter what."
The lump is back in Sirius' throat and it's actually impossible for him to speak around it. He presses his fingers in to his eyes, willing himself not to cry, his heart entirely full with how much Remus means to him, overflowing with love and gratefulness and friendship. It takes him several seconds to breathe through his tears, and his voice is horribly wobbly and crackly when he finally finds it again.
"I couldn't do this without you, Moony."
"I don't believe that for a second. I know you. You're amazing."
I love you, he almost replies, then catches himself last minute – because although they say it to each other all the time, although it's the most honest thing he can think of, it's too soon after the mess of last week, and right now, it would be too honest, too true, too much. Instead he says, "I – uh I – I should go get ready. I – thank you, Moony. Thank you so much."
"Of course," Remus says immediately. "My phone will be on loud all day, so if you need anything, then just ring, okay?"
"Yeah."
"It's going to be okay. It's going to be better than okay."
"Yeah."
"Have a good day at work, Pads. I'm so, so proud of you." Remus' voice is nothing but sincere, kindness in every syllable.
"Thank you, Moons. I – I'll call you tonight, yeah?"
"Come over, I'm in all evening… you can hang out with Winky, and we can watch Bake Off, and eat cake, and you can tell me all about how brilliant you were."
Remus' faith in him is so staggering that Sirius actually feels a little unsteady, even though he's sitting down. "Okay. Yeah. Okay."
"Bye, love."
"Bye, Moony."
Sirius takes a deep breath – then another – gets to his feet, straightens his skirt, and makes his way out of his room and in to the kitchen. Because fate seems to be on his side this morning, the current song that's playing transitions in to Rainbow, and Sirius feels his anxiety shrink even more as the familiar chords, coupled with Kesha's gorgeous voice, wash over him. Instead, his heart swells as he catches sight of the note that James has tacked to the kitchen counter.
Padfoot –
Today is a big day, and you're going to be amazing. More than amazing. You're going to shine like the fucking star that you are. I'm so proud of you. Go and make your dreams come true 3
Endless love from your best friend, who is only a phone call away, and can't wait to hear all about it.
Prongs
The tears threaten to return, and – fuck it, at this point, he's going to have to redo his make-up anyway – he lets them, because he doesn't deserve James' unbounding love and affection. He sends a snap of his watery eyes to James with a string of hearts, and then catches sight of the pot that's resting in the oven. It's warm when he pulls it out, and as he lifts the lid, the sweet, milky aroma of kheer hits his nose, and it's like James has enveloped him in a hug – he loves him, he loves him, he loves him.
Once he'd started spending all of his free time at James' family home, once James' parents had come to look on him as their own son, James' mother would make kheer specially for Sirius whenever he was having a particularly Anxious Day. On the days when the thought of leaving the safety of his bed made his chest tight and painful, on the days when having to get dressed and be a person made him want to curl up in a ball and cry, James' mother would appear in his room with a steaming bowl of kheer and a chai tea, and she would just sit and listen to him talk about his fears. It was the kind of relationship he'd never had – and never would have – with his own mother, and these quiet mornings are some of his most cherished memories with James' family.
After they'd moved out, James had taken over the tradition, and there's always a pot of kheer ready on the mornings before exams, interviews, Bad Days – whenever Sirius needs it to be honest –because James is unfailingly generous and loving, showering his friends with care and support at the drop of a hat. (Sirius has never found the words to express just how grateful he is for James' friendship – and it's not for lack of trying).
Unlike the White People version that sits heavy in his stomach like a flavourless weight, this is light, tasty, full of love and kindness and confidence – and it's the boost Sirius needs to get himself up and ready.
(He's still anxious. He's still a Bit of a Mess, and he's still half-convinced that his new colleagues will think he's Too Much, and hate him and his quirky queer self on sight. But he has friends who will stand by him, no matter what, who cherish him and care about him and make his heart sing with happiness at the thought of them.
He can do this).
"-And then they introduced me to the rest of the team I'm working with, and Akilah – my supervisor – said they loved my boots! And I got to meet the person who actually created Eclipse, Moony, I nearly died, I met my fucking idol, and xe was amazing. And-"
Sirius is horribly aware that he hasn't stopped monologuing for approximately fifteen minutes – ever since Remus had made the terrible mistake of saying, "tell me everything," with that warm, lovely, ridiculously-dimply smile. But he can't seem to stop the words from overflowing out of his mouth, because his whole body is flooded with good vibes and pleasant memories, and sure, he's exhausted, but he's also thrumming with excitement for what the future now holds, and this – this – is why he wanted to go in to Illustration.
Remus doesn't say much; he nods and laughs and makes the appropriate noises, head tilted to one side. (Sirius can't believe how soft and cuddly and cosy Remus looks – he's wearing a thick burgundy sweater that's unravelling at the sleeves, ratty sweatpants, mustard-yellow fluffy socks, and glasses, and Sirius is dying). If Sirius keeps rattling off nonsense at Remus, he can ignore how Remus' fingers are clenched around the hot water bottle pressed against his stomach, at how tired and world-weary he looks, at how he rubs at his temples every thirty seconds or so – because Remus had made it very clear when he walked through the door, that this was not a topic of conversation.
Winky hops up in to Sirius' lap, and he pauses to greet her. She arches up in to his hand with a mewling sound, and he can't help but coo back at her. Remus snorts, and Sirius pulls a face at him. "What?"
"She's got you wrapped round her paw," Remus says fondly.
"Of course she does, look at her, she's perfect." Winky purrs and settles down on his thighs. "Aren't you, yes you are!"
Remus rolls his eyes, but reaches a hand out to scratch behind Winky's ears. "So, to summarise, your first day was amazing?" he prompts.
"Understatement – it was – overwhelming, but not in a bad way? They actually seemed to like me and my art, and they really seemed excited to work with me, I can't – I can't believe it."
"I can," Remus says softly. "I'm so proud of you."
"Yeah, you said," Sirius says, unable to stop the blush creeping up his cheeks, because Remus looks so goddamn sincere and happy for him. There's a comfortable pause, and then Remus clears his throat.
"So, I know I promised you cake, but, well, that didn't happen," he rubs at his left arm – a tell that Sirius knows means he's embarrassed, and his heart twinges a little, because does he not know that just being here and listening to him is more than enough? – and continues, "But we can order whatever you like, and I have all of the new series of Bake Off recorded."
"The new series?" Sirius fakes affront. "Moony, you traitor, what would Mary Berry say?"
"Oh come on, you're just as curious as I am."
"True."
They snuggle together on Remus' shitty, ancient sofa, with a fluffy blanket and Winky and Chinese food, in front of Bake Off, and honestly, Sirius can't think of a better way to spend the evening of his first day. Eventually, he'll have to head home, and be cuddled within an inch of his life by James, but right now, he can just exist in this comfortable, safe bubble of happiness and warmth with one of his favourite people in the world.
And it's perfect.
Sorry the ending sucks, lmao.
- Honestly though what is smart casual?
- If you're gonna try and convince me that Sirius wouldn't wear skirts and eyeliner, I will fight you.
- I only found out when I was writing this that kheer is apparently a pudding? I've only ever eaten it when my friend makes it for breakfast before exams because xe's a sweetheart, but anyway, it's delicious and makes me feel better 10/10 would recommend. (If I've said something wrong, please feel free to correct me).
- Kesha is hella problematic but Rainbow is so magic and v v special to me.
- I love my bi son James who aggressively loves Sirius with everything that he has.
- GBBO is a Really Big Deal in the UK, and basically if you missed out on the drama, it moved from the BBC to Channel 4, which caused Great Controversy. (I know, I know).
If y'all have any questions, or requests or if you just wanna chat, pls hit me up on tumblr (little-old-rachel) or twitter ( littleoldrachel), or on here to get in touch!
Y'all are wonderful, I'm so grateful for your support!
Love always & take care xoxo