Warnings: None
Remus woke at dawn, cold and stiff. His bare arms were prickled with goose bumps, legs folded awkwardly, neck stiff. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, propping himself up and scrabbling around on the back of the headrest for the blue crochet blanket he knew was there.
Sirius lay at the other end, snoring softly. One frayed edge of the blanket was trapped beneath his back, and when Remus tugged it a little harder than he'd intended the other man gave a sleepy protest, stilled for a moment, then opened his eyes.
He yawned and looked about to return to sleep when he noticed Remus draping the cover over the both of them.
"Thanks," came the sleepy mumble. Dragging one end of the soft wool right up to his chest, he promptly fell back to sleep.
Remus watched him for a while, rubbing the soft material back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. He had trouble sleeping anywhere that wasn't his own bed, and it would be especially difficult now with the weak early morning light filtering in through the thin curtains. He wanted to go up to his room and get another couple of hours in, but he thought Sirius might be offended upon waking up. And besides, Remus sort of liked watching him sleep.
It wasn't in a weird way. It was just interesting to see the angular face and sharp features relaxed and softened. The perfect posture and confident limbs were lost in sleep, so that now Sirius sprawled awkwardly, practically falling off the couch, making Remus grin.
After a while he got up to go to the kitchen to make tea and tidy up a bit. Attached to the fridge was Alice's number, reminding him of the review, so that after a moment's contemplation he picked up one of several notebooks lying around the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast table with his mug and a pen, tapping the cardboard front gently, one eye on Sirius's sleeping form.
Eventually he flipped it open and scrawled the first thing that came into his head: When it comes to acoustic music, Sirius Black has incredibly talented fingers.
His eyes widened a little when he realised what he'd written. Hastily, he crossed it out, replacing it with a more subtle Sirius Black is a man of many gifts.
But then he remembered this was supposed to be a review of Blue Stag, not just their bassist, and he sighed, clicking the pen rapidly as he was wont to do when he was stuck for ideas. After a contemplative sip of tea, he replaced the mug on a coaster and leaned forward to carefully print: There are two sides to every story.
After that it was easy. He managed to scribble out a good three sides, most of it too detailed, some too sparse, but with plenty of good ideas to keep him busy later. Before he knew it, it was just past six o'clock and the framework of his concert review was finished. He rarely worked with such haste and, pleased with himself, he clicked the pen and stood up, rewarding himself with the comfort of the couch. It was a nice relief after the feel of the bony, hand-me-down breakfast chairs beneath his arse.
Proof of how hard he'd worked, he actually managed to fall asleep again – if only for a little while – and when he awoke he found his head resting on legs, the blanket completely gone. Turning, he found Sirius all tucked up in the wool, a thoughtful expression on his face as he perused one of Remus's magazines.
Soundscape, to be exact.
"Cheers for sharing the covers," Remus said blearily, though he found he wasn't really cold anymore.
"Since 1981, North London band Blue Stag have been making headlines for everything from sell-out concerts," Sirius began reading cheerfully, and when Remus noticed the haughty, pompous tone with which he was reciting the words he made a clumsy grab for the magazine. Sirius lifted it swiftly away from his grasp.
"To public controversies," he carried on, easily avoiding another grab, "to musical collaborations with some of the biggest names in rock."
"Shut up," Remus begged. "Don't read it like that, it sounds awful."
"Of course we have fall-outs," Sirius continued in a totally spot-on impersonation of James, as Remus groaned and buried his head in a cushion, "but people forget we've known each other for thirteen years. Thirteen years! Imagine!" Sirius shook his head in mock awe, before poking his face out from behind the magazine and adding, "It's really good by the way."
"Can I have it back now?"
"I especially like this bit about me," said Sirius, pointing to a line on the page. "'Sirius Black completes the dynamic quartet with bass playing skills akin to that of Jesus himself'."
"Oh shut up."
"He's also incredibly good looking –"
"It doesn't say that!"
"Superbly manly –"
Remus huffed.
"And I fancy him like mad!" Sirius slapped the magazine down and lunged forward. "God, Remus, tell the whole world, why don't you?"
"You're so incredibly funny," Remus deadpanned, managing to finally pull the magazine from Sirius's grasp now that he was distracted. "I can barely contain my laughter. See? Look at the difficulty I'm having." He pointed to his blank face and Sirius threw his head back and laughed.
"I was reading that," he said, reaching out for it again, but Remus dropped it on the floor beside him before he could get it, safe in the knowledge that the other man probably couldn't be bothered getting up to retrieve it.
"I'm sure you've re-read it plenty of times. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd highlighted and annotated all the bits about you."
"Believe me, I would have, only I didn't have a pen to hand," Sirius admitted. Then he pushed Remus's shoulder and grabbed the cushion away from him. "Someone's perked up since last night."
"I finished the draft for the review," Remus told him. "I'm feeling accomplished."
"Is it as flattering as the other one?" Sirius asked. "Can I see it?"
"Not if you're going to take the piss out of that one too."
"Come on. I'll strike you a deal." He put his hands on Remus's shoulders. "You let me read it and I'll give you a kiss."
Remus's eyes went straight to Sirius's bottom lip. It was still a bit red from last night, and he almost grimaced as he remembered how stupid he'd been, accidentally biting him. Sirius, apparently mistaking the expression for distaste, cocked his head to the side.
"Or are we not into kissing Sirius anymore?"
Without thinking about it, Remus closed the gap between them with a brief kiss, pulling away quickly since he hadn't brushed his teeth yet.
"Oh good," said Sirius, running a hand through his tousled hair, "I was beginning to worry." Apparently satisfied, he leaned back against the armrest again with a yawn, stretching his arms out and settling back in with the blanket. "So. Do I get breakfast in this establishment?"
"Sure," Remus replied.
"Great!"
"You know where the kitchen is."
Sirius shot him an unamused look, removing himself from the woolly confines and standing up. "What sort of service do you call this?" he joked. "I knew I should have stayed at the hotel with the lads. That Mercure..." He gestured with his hands, searching for the word. "What's it called again?"
"Mercure Queens?"
"That's the one. Any idea where it is? I suppose I'll have to go there at some point." He almost lost his balance as he stretched tiredly, joints cracking.
"It's in Cheltenham," said Remus, watching him, "about twenty minutes away."
"I'll get a cab." He looked up and offered Remus a dazzling smile then, far too cheerful considering the time of the morning. "So you were joking about me making my own breakfast, right?"
Rolling his eyes, Remus dragged himself up off the couch and led the way back into the kitchen. They proceeded to act out some warped, married-couple routine, with Remus making Sirius's coffee and Sirius haphazardly spreading various condiments on to toast. It was a bit odd considering all they'd done the previous night was kiss and then engage in a one-way toss-off.
Still, Remus was surprised at how much he enjoyed the cosy homeliness of the whole affair, of having someone to share his kitchen with, of having someone to eat breakfast with. Most mornings he spent staring out at the rain-sodden garden with a lonely cup of tea clutched in his hands, worrying about as many things as he could.
"If I knew I was this good at making breakfast," Sirius said once they'd sat down, "I'd do it more often."
"You never make your own breakfast? Poor George."
"I pay him to look after me, and he loves it. You should come and stay again some time." He bit off another piece of considerably jammy toast and added through his mouthful, "Well. Unless that'd freak you out."
Remus paused, cup halfway to his lips. "What do you mean?"
Sirius didn't answer for a while. He chewed, swallowed and drank before eventually saying, "Well I don't know, you're just easily freaked aren't you? Like last night. Oh, Sirius, don't toss me off, I might actually have an orgasm!" He accompanied this with hand gestures and a ridiculously good West Country accent. Remus promptly shoved him, turning red. He didn't want to be reminded of last night.
"Sirius."
"What?"
"Don't say 'orgasm', we're having breakfast, for God's sake."
"Sorry," Sirius laughed, raising his cup to drink, but when Remus looked at him he lowered it again and obediently stopped smiling. "Sorry."
"And I don't sound like that."
Sirius said nothing as he ducked his head, eyebrows raised, a little smirk on his lips.
"And anyway," Remus continued, pulling his toast apart, "it's not my fault. I told you, I've never really done much with a bloke before. Or... anyone. In a while, anyway."
"Really?" said Sirius. "Go on. When was the last time you were with someone?"
Remus shrugged and looked down at his plate, suddenly not very hungry anymore. "A year?" he mumbled. "Maybe two?"
"Two years?"
"Alright, don't rub it in!" He immediately started to feel stupid again. "I don't tend to have many relationships. When you live somewhere like this it's a bit awkward when you've broken up with someone, so I just tend to avoid it."
"Why would you go into a relationship with someone assuming you're going to break up with them?"
Remus gave a little laugh before standing and taking his plate over to the draining board. "It's more I assume they'll break up with me. Want another drink?" He crossed over to the kettle and stuck it under the tap, but Sirius didn't reply. When he turned, he found Sirius was looking at him.
"You really don't think anyone could like you, do you? You have the lowest self-esteem."
"I don't have low self-esteem," Remus replied, sticking the kettle back on the stove. "I just don't have high expectations."
"You don't seem to have any expectations."
"Sirius." He turned back around and rested against the countertop. "I'm not from London."
"So?"
"So it makes a difference. Everything here is very, you know, uncorrupted. It's like..." He ambled back over, resting his hands on the back of a chair. "London is Woodstock and Gloucester is the village fête."
Sirius's wide-eyed look of expectancy creased up into laughter.
"You make me laugh," he said, dropping the last few crusts of his toast down on to his plate. "One minute you're nattering away like a nervous little mouse because you're terrified a bloke's trying to get off with you, next you're all gobby and telling me we're the Prince and the Pauper. With musical analogies, no less."
"Yes well," Remus said awkwardly, sitting back down and placing one arm on top of the other, "I'm just explaining why I got a little nervous when we... you know. But it's not that I didn't like it, or you. I'm just not used to it."
Sirius leaned across the table then, pushing his plate aside. "We'll have to get you used to it," he grinned, and they were close enough to kiss but Sirius's expression changed, smile faltering a bit when he saw the way Remus was looking at him. "It could be fun," he added gently, the rising intonation at the end suggesting he wanted Remus to agree with him.
Remus didn't say anything for a long time. There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask, and none of them were exactly tactful, but he felt like he needed the answers if he was to allow any... thing he might have with Sirius to go any further.
Eventually, he decided on, "Why did you sleep with Jake?"
Sirius's lips were already parted in a little 'o' shape, so that his mouth barely moved as he asked, "Who's Jake?"
He looked genuinely confused, and Remus sighed. Somehow he'd had a feeling he might say that.
"Jake? The one you slept with less than a week ago, that Jake?"
"Oh." Sirius's eyes were still slightly glassy. Then: "Oh! Jake. The American, right?"
"Yes, the –"
"Oh I didn't sleep with him."
"You didn't –?"
"He just went down on me."
"Sirius!" Remus gestured to the table wildly. "Breakfast!"
"What? You asked!"
"I didn't need details."
"I thought that would make it better."
"It's the principle, not the fact that you two did... whatever," Remus mumbled, looking off to the side. "You say you like me, but then... you brought him back while I was there."
"It was Friday night," Sirius pointed out. "I still wasn't sure at that point if I could snog you without getting stabbed in the eye with a pen."
"So you thought the best way to ensure that I'd return your – advances – would be to bring him back? He had acne!"
Sirius raised his forefinger. "Be that as it may... I was pissed."
Remus didn't reply but he couldn't stop the way his eyes rolled just a little. Because really, when wasn't Sirius Black pissed?
"Out of my head," Sirius added, curling his finger back into his fist.
When Remus still didn't reply – not because, like Sirius, he was stubborn, but because he simply had no words and rather wished he hadn't brought the topic up after all – Sirius sighed.
"Look, I'm sorry. Is that what you want me to say? That I'm sorry? I mean, we're here now, aren't we? So does it really matter?"
Did it really matter? Remus didn't want to be mad at him, and compared to most rock stars Sirius was pretty well-behaved. If he broke the whole situation down, the facts were that Sirius was single and Sirius was young. So it was, of course, perfectly acceptable for him to sleep with whomever he chose. But Remus still couldn't shake the feelings of hurt, and it was made worse by the fact that he couldn't really justify those feelings in the first place.
Who was he to tell Sirius how to live his life anyway? They'd only known each other a few months. If this was how Sirius did things, this was how he did things. It was better just to go along with it, Remus reasoned. Only an idiot would resist Sirius Black's interests because, what, the man had landed himself a drunken blowjob one Friday night?
By this point, Sirius seemed to have lost hope in Remus ever replying. He was rummaging around in his pockets for a lighter, already starting to say, "Do you mind if I –?" when Remus interrupted him.
"You're right. It doesn't matter."
"Are you sure?" said Sirius. "Because if it really bothers you... I mean, if you're worried that we'd be in a relationship and I'd cheat on you, I'm not like that. I mean, I don't do things like that."
Remus barely heard the last sentence, because his neck had already snapped up and his eyes had widened a little.
"A relationship?" he echoed dumbly.
And then he was confronted with one of those rare situations where it was Sirius looking flustered and not him.
"Er." He drummed his long guitarist's fingers against the table. "Hypothetically speaking, of course."
"Of course," Remus repeated, a tinge of bewilderment colouring his words.
"Yeah. So. Do you mind if I..?" Sirius gestured to the door with his head, and Remus waved his hands in approval.
"Go ahead."
Sirius's ruffled demeanour suggested he hadn't really meant to say "relationship" at all, but now he had Remus couldn't help but wonder what that might be like. There was no doubt in his mind that he liked spending time with Sirius. And that he liked touching Sirius. And by default, he was therefore attracted to Sirius. But a relationship with him wasn't something that had ever crossed his mind, not even once. Mainly because Remus was still coming to terms with the fact that he fancied him, but also because Sirius Black didn't seem the settling type.
It stupid to think about it though. It was, as the man himself had said, purely hypothetical; a way of putting Remus's mind at ease that Sirius wasn't a complete twat.
When he'd returned from the garden and they'd cleaned up – or rather, they'd put their plates on the draining board – they went back into the living room and flopped down on to the couch.
"Your sofa is so comfortable," said Sirius, stretching out luxuriously. "Where did you get it?"
"Er. It was my nan's," Remus admitted.
"Oh, recycling. I like it." Sirius nodded towards the television, hands behind his head. "Put the telly on."
It was fine for a while. They watched ITV News and an episode of Tales of the Unexpected about a woman murdering her husband with a frozen leg of lamb. It was halfway through the second episode – this one about a ghoulish hotel, entirely inappropriate for a Thursday morning Remus felt – that he noticed with a jolt Sirius's feet on his thighs, pressing gently.
He didn't mind. Sirius's feet weighed next to nothing, and anyway, at this point they'd done much more than put their feet on one another. But it was when one foot slipped slyly between his legs that Remus shifted a bit and looked across at him. The grey eyes were glued to the television, the tip of his little finger resting idly between his teeth and his other hand stroking the blanket covering him.
Remus didn't say anything. He went back to watching the programme, not quite as relaxed as before. Maybe, he reasoned, he's just trying to get comfortable.
But then after another couple of minutes, Sirius's left foot joined his right, and he twisted it just so. Remus jumped. Really? They were going to do this now? After their awkward conversation just then? This early on a weekday morning? During a children's television show?
The foot twisted again.
Apparently so.
"Sirius," he managed.
"Mm?"
"Your foot –"
"Is very comfortable, thanks." Finally Sirius looked away from the television and at Remus, smirking and wriggling his feet a little more. "What is it? Am I annoying you? Would you prefer I stopped trying to seduce you again?"
"I'd just prefer if you did it in a more conventional fashion," Remus ground out, attempting to dislodge one foot that was being particularly persistent.
"What, like this?" Sirius sat suddenly and grabbed hold of him, yanking him down until their noses were touching and less than an inch of space separated their lips. Remus blinked. "Yes? No?"
"You're unbelievable." Unbelievable, temperamental, restless.
Sirius grinned and covered his lips in a warm kiss instead of replying, hands going straight to his hips. Remus wasn't entirely sure if he was comfortable with the way Sirius's mood could change at the drop of a hat, but then, if it didn't, he imagined they'd never get anywhere and nothing would ever get done. After all, it wasn't like Remus to put his feet on someone's crotch and grab them and kiss them. Especially not while watching a children's show.
In the short moments that followed, Sirius suddenly grunted into the kiss, breaking it to rummage around beneath himself, as though something there were bothering him. Seeing this, Remus took the opportunity to express some concerns.
"Sirius," he said carefully, "when I was at your house, do you remember when I said we should just be friends?"
"Mm."
"Well, obviously we've surpassed that. And it's fine and everything, don't get me wrong, but... don't you think we're moving a bit fast?"
Sirius found what he was looking for – the remote – and dropped it on to the carpeted floor with a soft thud, locking eyes with Remus once more.
"No," he said firmly, "I really don't think we are."
"Oh."
"In fact," he continued, reaching up to take hold of Remus by the jaw and pull him down again, "I have honestly never waited this long to get with someone."
"I – okay. Well, as long as you're sure," he stammered out, unsure whether or not that was supposed to be a compliment.
"Oh, I am."
"Just wanted to make sure, you know."
Sirius laughed, pulling him a little closer. "And I thank you for that concern." He grinned. "Such a gentleman."
Suddenly, his bruised lips were on Remus's again, hard and insistent. Long fingers ran through the scruffy roughness of his hair, legs bent so that Remus could lay comfortably between them.
"You're so gorgeous," Sirius sighed into his mouth, tracing the edges of Remus's face with his thumbs. Remus wasn't sure if it was those words or the slow way in which Sirius arched against him that sent heat spreading through his limbs, nestling snugly in the pit of his stomach. At any rate, he would have had to have been pretty gormless not to notice the growing evidence of Sirius's hardness between them.
He shivered as Sirius moved from his lips to kiss a path down his throat, back up the arch of his neck to graze his teeth over Remus's earlobe. "Remember last night?" he breathed, hands pulling him closer, "When I said 'maybe tomorrow'?"
Remus nodded that he did, bottom lip caught between his front teeth as Sirius looked up at him with darkening eyes.
"Well, could you..?" Sirius swallowed, the raising of his eyebrows completing the question for him. Remus considered the range of emotions flitting across his face, unsure if it was lust or simply confidence, arrogance, which played prominent. Either way, his heart pounded as he considered the best way to approach the act.
"Like this?" Sirius urged, grabbing Remus's hesitant hand and pulling it towards the front of his jeans. He rolled his hips slightly to show just how hard he was, a fact which sent both fear and exhilaration flaring up in Remus's stomach in equal measures. He proceeded to fumble with the button, a small noise of frustration escaping his throat when he realised there was another, smaller button, behind it.
"It doesn't matter," Sirius breathed. "Just –"
His hand was soon joining Remus's, batting it out of the way to undo the button from his more suitable angle. He literally breathed a sigh of relief when it was finally undone, leaving Remus to pull the zipper down and press his hand down beneath the black cotton of his underwear –
And then the doorbell rang, and their eyes locked.
After what seemed like forever Sirius said, low and husky, "You are joking me."
Remus froze. Ridiculously, his immediate thought was that he was to blame for the unwanted visitor at the door. An apology was already forming on his lips before he stopped himself.
"Er," he went for instead, "I should probably get that. It might be important."
"It might be the fucking postman!"
"Why would the postman ring the doorbell, Sirius?"
"Remus?" came a shrill call from outside.
A mixture of panic and frustration shot through him. With a groan, he allowed his face to drop against Sirius's shoulder. "Oh God, it's my mum," he said, voice muffled.
"Your mother? Jesus Christ."
"Remus?" came the call again, sharper this time, followed by another press of the malfunctioning doorbell.
Remus began to climb off him awkwardly, deliberately avoiding his eyes.
"Yeah, I'm coming!" he called back.
"I'm not," Sirius muttered, tugging at his loosened pants and struggling with the buttons once more.
"Just – sort your hair, it's all…" Remus patted at the black locks a little before Sirius batted his hands away with a tut. Leaving the musician to sort himself out, he bounded towards the front door.
"Mum," he greeted her, mustering all the enthusiasm he could manage.
"Oh, there you are." She marched straight past him into the house so that he could only hope Sirius had managed to get his buttons done up in time. "I was beginning to think you were ignoring me. I was on my way to – oh. Hello. Who's this?"
Sirius had indeed managed to compose himself, a casual arm slung over the armrest and his hair looking considerably less ruffled. Like a true gent, he stood to greet her.
"Hello, I'm Sirius," he said pleasantly, as though he hadn't just been in a rather compromising position with her son. He took her hand and kissed her lightly on the cheek, and in turn she let out that surprised, tinny little laugh she was so fond of. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Lupin."
He treated her to a charming smile, casting a sly glance at Remus who quirked an eyebrow in return, shaking his head a little in amusement. Flustered and practically begging one second, charming and accommodating the next. His "rigid household" had taught him well.
"Well, I say. Aren't you a well-mannered little thing?" Then she must have realised how common she sounded, because she quickly corrected herself. "I mean, young man. Well-mannered young man. Are you a friend of my Remus?"
"He's in the band, Mum, I told you before," said Remus, shutting the front door behind them and leading her into the sitting area. "Ignore her, she's being deliberately obtuse. She does know who you are."
"I do now you've explained!" his mother trilled. "But I've a lot of people to keep track of!"
She turned back to Sirius, shrugging off her coat and handing it to Remus. She kept hold of her handbag.
"You're here rather early, aren't you, darling?" she said.
The two men's eyes met, and Remus decided to be the one to explain. Sucking in his breath he said, "Sirius stayed the night, Mum. After his gig at the Guildhall."
She blinked.
"Oh. Where did he sleep? I hope you gave him your room, and not that awful spare room with the damp."
"On the couch actually," Sirius explained, pointing to the blanket, then seeing she was about to protest he continued, "Oh it was very comfortable. Something of an heirloom, I've heard."
"Yes, it was my mother's." She made to sit down on it herself, until Remus hurriedly stepped in. The idea of his mother sitting where they'd – well. It was unthinkable.
"No, Mum, sit here," he said quickly, steering her towards the armchair. "Sirius was sat there."
She tutted but did as she was told. Then she made another disapproving noise when she found the discarded tea towel on the floor.
"Honestly, Remus, do you ever clean up after yourself? You have guests, for goodness' sake!" she said, bending to pick it up. Remus's eyes widened. He snatched it up before she could, pulling it to his chest.
"Er, do you want tea, Mum? Sirius, do you? Come and help me, will you?"
He all but dragged the Sirius (who was, by this point, struggling to hide his laughter) into the kitchen. Remus promptly whacked him with the stiff tea towel before chucking it in the bin.
"It's not funny."
"The towel bit was, you have to admit," Sirius sniggered, and Remus did try to be annoyed but he was too glad that Sirius wasn't angry anymore. At least, he didn't seem to be.
"I didn't know she was coming," he said in a low, hushed voice. "Honestly."
"It's fine," said Sirius, and when Remus gave him an unconvinced look went on, "Really. It's fine. You'll have to make it up to me another time."
He suddenly turned them so that Remus's back bumped against the worktop. From where they were standing they couldn't be seen from the living room armchair, but Sirius obscured Remus for good measure and then placed his hands on his hips.
"Come to mine," he said. "Tomorrow. I'm going to be at an interview in the afternoon, but I'll have George pick you up."
"I –"
"Bring your work if you want. We don't have to go anywhere."
Remus said nothing as he looked up at him, considering. "Well your place is a lot nicer than mine," he murmured eventually. Sirius smiled down at him, leaning to place a slow, daring kiss on his lips. Remus's nerves wouldn't allow him to close his eyes for it, but he couldn't stop a small mewl of surprise escaping his lips when Sirius's hand moved to travel slowly along the curve of his arse -
"Remus?" His mother's shrill voice suddenly cut through the thick, peaceful atmosphere. "Are you making tea or not? I can't hear the kettle. And what on earth are you two watching on television?"
Remus shook his head, pained, and closed his eyes. He wouldn't open them until Sirius said, "You know, in the five minutes she's been here your accent's thickened like mad." He smiled and winked, giving his hips one last squeeze before pulling away. "I'll call a cab."
Reluctantly, Remus set to making tea while Sirius used the phone. He seethed over his mother's unwanted presence, viciously crushing the teabag into the side of the cup. Alright, so maybe he would have been a bit crap at tossing Sirius off, but he wanted to do it, to return the favour, not to mention make up for nearly biting his lip off. This morning and last night had opened up completely new experiences which were, in fact, completely daunting, but he found he did want to be closer with Sirius. As usual though his mother had arrived, unannounced and uninvited.
It was like when he was a teenager and she'd barge into his room when he was in the middle of something important or, more often than not, something just entirely embarrassing. Only now it actually mattered in the long run, because what if Sirius went back to that magnificent hotel in Cheltenham and decided he would find some other way of getting off? Some other way that didn't involve fumbling, bumbling country boys?
The taxi arrived at his house in under five minutes, and when Sirius had said goodbye to the Lady herself in a manner equally as gracious as his introduction had been, Remus walked him to the door. Out on the chilly front step, the musician gave him a quick kiss on the cheek – reminding Remus of the first time he'd done it all those months ago outside the Manchester arena – and a soft half-smile. Then he was gone, leaving Remus alone in what seemed like a suddenly very grey house once more.
He went back inside and glanced at the couch. He couldn't believe that not half an hour ago they'd been there, together, Sirius underneath him, kissing him, actually wanting Remus to touch him. Now all that was left was his mother. She'd pulled her handbag on to her lap.
"He's very handsome, isn't he?" she said, before waving a dismissive hand in Remus's direction. "Never mind. I forgot men don't understand things like that."
Remus almost laughed. Probably would have done were it not for seeing his mother begin to pull various sheets of paper from her handbag.
"What's that then?"
"I've brought you these," she said, holding the bundle of papers out for him to take. He set his mug down on the coffee table and took them, sitting back on the sofa and giving them a quick glance. What a surprise.
"Job application forms," he stated blankly.
"Lots of them," she said, splaying out immaculately manicured fingers as though to emphasise just how many there were. "They're all at the Job Centre if you bothered to look. I've got you the animal shelter one, but also one at the train station, Waitrose –"
"Waitrose."
"Think of the discounts, Remus!"
"I don't want them." He tried to hand them back to her, but she wouldn't take them.
"Just keep them, you might as well." She picked up her teacup and clutched her bag with her other hand to show that there was no way she was taking them back.
"No. No. I don't want them."
"Just keep them, Remus, for God's sake. There's no need to be so prickly." She took a calm sip of her tea. "I also came to tell you that Dad and I are going for dinner at Auntie Tilley's tomorrow night and of course you're coming."
"I'm going to London," he said distractedly, rifling back through the papers just to see what exactly she envisioned him doing with his life. There was one here for a job at the biscuit factory. The biscuit factory.
"London?" she echoed.
"Yes," he said irritably, "is that a problem?"
"Yes! Tilley and Michael have just bought a new house in Tewkesbury, you can't not come."
"Yes I can, Mother," he snapped, "because I'm twenty-three years old and I can choose whether or not to go to Auntie Tilley's and I can choose what I want to do for the rest of my life, and I don't want to do any of this."
He chucked the papers on to the coffee table to make his point, some of them falling on to the floor at his mother's feet. He knew as soon as he'd done it that it was very out of character for him, but he folded his arms, determined not to cave in. He supposed he was pretty irritated at her for interrupting his time with Sirius, even though she couldn't have known. But the job hunt she had been embarking on on his behalf for the past year was getting on his last nerve too.
"Well," she said primly, "isn't that nice? I try to help. I try to show a little concern. All I get is –"
"Please, will you stop trying to pretend you're doing any of this for my benefit?" he interrupted, stressing each word. "You just want something to brag about!"
"What on earth are you talking about? And when, Remus John Lupin, did you become so bloody lippy? With your own mother, no less!" Funnily enough, her accent had slipped now, and she was back to plain old country girl once again. "Is it from hanging around with your London friends? Your friend Sirius is very charming, isn't he? I suppose you want to be more like him, do you? Is he the reason you won't consider taking any other job?" She picked up a handful of the nearby papers. "That band has made you feel like you're too good for these?"
"I like what I do!" he exclaimed. "Why can't you understand that?"
"Darling," she said shortly, "I know you're very good at writing. But I humoured those kinds of dreams of yours when you were a child. It's time to grow up."
"I am grown up. I've got a mortgage, I've got a job, I've got a – friends. I've got friends."
Puring her lips, she held her hands up in mock surrender. "Alright," she said. "You know best."
She stood and started collecting her things, pulling her coat on and pointedly stepping over the dropped papers. Remus didn't move from his place on the sofa, and when she was at the door he didn't turn round.
"If you change your mind about Auntie Tilley's make sure you ring me before tomorrow," she said stiffly.
Then she was gone, and he was alone again. The door clicked shut and he let out a frustrated noise, clutching at his hair. Just when things seemed to have been going alright between him and Sirius, his mother had dropped in, uninvited, without even having a reasonable excuse. Job applications. When was she going to stop? It was pathetic.
With that in mind, he stood abruptly and gathered all of the papers, marching into the kitchen and sticking them straight into the bin. Then he swivelled round and once more caught sight of Alice's number stuck to the fridge. Without even pausing to think about it he wrenched the phone from its holder and jabbed in her number. It wasn't too early anymore. Someone like Alice would be awake.
And indeed, she picked up after the second ring sounding as spritely and energetic as ever.
"I'll be in London tomorrow," he told her firmly, "if you want to have that chat."
