4-6

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Several days later, Sirius is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a rather haphazard-looking list of several different university courses scrawled onto lined paper before him, when Remus clatters through the door.

"Hey, Moony."

"Padfoot," Remus greets him, but there's a set to his mouth, a hard glint in his eyes, that makes something flutter uncomfortably in Sirius's chest.

"What is it, Remus? What's wrong?"

Remus's jaw works, like he's chewing on the inside of his cheek. He shakes his head, reaches into his pocket, and extracts a letter. Sirius's heart thuds uncomfortably.

"It's for you." Remus says quietly, extending the letter to him.

Sirius untangles himself from his spot on the floor and accepts the letter, turning it over. There's no sender information, only Sirius's name and address. He stares at it, very hard.

"Want me to open it?" Remus asks quietly.

Sirius shakes his head. He feels somehow both intensely numb and horribly on edge. He peels open the flap of the envelope and removes the paper from inside. It takes him only a few seconds for the words, written in curling gold lettering, to make sense to him. He scoffs in disgust and tosses the letter onto their kitchen counter, shaking his head.

"It's a wedding invitation. Narcissa is getting married."

"You're joking." Remus picks the invitation up, disbelieving.

Sirius shakes his head again, staring at it. He's disgusted. He's angry. He's so, so tired.

"It's not really an invitation." He says, unnecessarily, because Remus already knows his family, and understands what this is—but saying the words out loud make them real. "She only sent it so that I would know I wasn't invited. Just one more family event I'm not welcome to, just one more reminder that.."

"She didn't put the return address on it, because she wanted you to open it. How did they even find our address?" Remus murmurs, not quite with disbelief--because there was nothing surprising about this, especially when his family had committed far worse acts against him. Against them all. It was perhaps a sort of disappointment, that this was still something that, so many years later, they could still come home to. That even after so many years, they still could not let Sirius go. He turns the invitation over and over in his hands, as if the truth of it might transform into something less spiteful.

"Good ol' Cissy." Sirius says. He closes his eyes. The old anger, the resentment, the bitter sadness that accompanied all reminders of his family, required more energy that this ridiculous, petty piece of paper deserved. He'd spent all his childhood with that anger, and that bitterness. Now, it just made him tired. "Well." He doesn't know what else to say. There were no more words; he'd used them all up, repeated them, twisted and turned them around. He'd long since grown tired of the sound of his own bitterness.

He meets Remus's eyes.

"I'm going to take a shower."

When he wanders back into the kitchen, the ends of his hair damp against the nape of his neck, the letter is nowhere to be seen. He recognizes the tugging impulse to crawl into the nearest bed and allow it to absorb him, but Remus tosses a coat at him, and speaks, his tone kind, but leaving no room for argument.

"Come on. We're going out."

Sirius is content to allow Remus to lead him wherever, his mind quiet and dull. They trudge in silence down the sidewalk, and it doesn't take long for Sirius to recognize where Remus is taking him.

A half hour later, James opens the door of his and Lily's apartment, clearly having been expecting them.

"If you think you're bringing that slush into this house—God, you two are utterly uncivilized, aren't you? I never should have allowed you to move in together."

Remus tosses his coat at James's head with practiced ease, and James's grumbling are momentarily muffled as he attempts to free himself. Lily's head appears from around the corner, flour on her cheek. She winks at Sirius.

"Something to eat, love?"

Peter arrives soon after. No one mentions the letter, and Sirius is grateful. It's a pointless thing to discuss and dissect. The only option is to plough right through it, to put it out of his mind. After all, the remedy for the family he was born into is before him in the form of the family he'd chosen for himself. He allows them to smother him with their kindness and understanding and their love for him. Sometimes, he worries he is too selfish with their love—but today, he understands there is no such thing. He soaks in Lily's gentle touches to his shoulder, Peter's banter, James's threats to evict him from their apartment if they doesn't purchase legitimate cutlery in the next week.. Remus's hoarse laugh, and his steady presence next to him. His gentle eyes.

They spend the night gorging themselves on popcorn and Lily's baking, huddled on the floor watching a series of laughably terrible horror movies. They fall asleep like that, in an absurd and comfortable pile on the floor. In the morning, James and Lily fashion them a spectacular breakfast. Leaning against the doorframe, Sirius watches them shifting and moving around one another, handing each other spatulas and spices and all manner of things that mystify Sirius and cause Remus to groan with jealousy. At one point, he and James pile on Peter in an effort to rouse him from his curled-up position in the armchair, apparently shattering several of his ribs and all their good fortune. They gather around the dining table to eat, and an uproar is caused when they discover there's only four available dining chairs (the fifth and sixth having been inexplicably missing since the New Years Party). Peter wryly proposes that Remus and Sirius share a seat, the suggestion leaving Sirius caught somewhere between the desire to slide boneless onto the carpet, and the need to remove Peter's limbs from his torso. Fortunately, Lily, having long-ago reached the pinnacle of wisdom, manages to locate an extra stool. They devour the breakfast in under ten minutes and spend the rest of the hour hurling banter and affection back and forth across the table.

Noon arrives, and they gather in the hallway. Sirius is watching Remus pull on his coat when James's arm comes around Sirius's shoulder. He leans forward, their heads close together, almost conspiratorially.

"Alright, mate?" James says, very quietly.

James's arm is heavy across his shoulder, and reassuring. Lily, her hair untidy and in James's football jersey, stands next to Peter, who is muttering something to Remus with a sly grin, making Remus laugh.

Sirius meets James's eyes.

"Yes." He says, and means it.

James dips his head and nods, giving Sirius's shoulder a final squeeze. He slides his arm from Sirius, hand snaking out to make an absolute disaster of Sirius's hair and effectively shattering their decade-long friendship. Of course, the only suitable response to this is grabbing a fistful of James's collar and yanking James forward at what he hopes is a painful angle. Their scrapping lasts all of thirty seconds before Remus is yanking them apart with the look of a man who has long since resigned himself to the impossibility of ever living a peaceful life in the company of his friends. Peter chuckles next to Lily, who is holding Sirius's coat out towards him, looking perfectly unfazed. He takes his coat, meeting James's eyes. They share a grin that starts off goofy, but softens into something warm, and affectionate. James winks at him. From men, to boys, and back again, as simply as that.

Remus claps him on the shoulder, steering him out the door. Sirius puts up a fuss as Remus calls over his shoulder, "Got to get him back to the pound by one or they won't take him back—I'm sure you understand."
Sirius waves at the three of them as Remus deposits him out the door. He grins cheekily as Remus pulls his hat over his curly hair, rolling his eyes and smiling.

The walk back to their flat is quiet and comfortable. It's early; the sky is the soft grey of February mornings, and they're the only people who seem willing to brave the chilly outdoors. The streets are bathed in pale light, and snowflakes drift lazily down from above. Remus is a mismatch of colours on this quiet street--his tawny hair beneath the burgundy of his hat, his soft eyes and softer smile. He feels Sirius staring and turns. He tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed and ever so slightly concerned.

Sirius ducks his head and turns his gaze forward. He's been reckless lately. Too reckless. He needs to reign himself back in, get a hold of himself.

This is impossible, he thinks. It's utterly impossible, to be around Remus, to walk and eat with him, to come home every night to find him on the floor of their living room, working himself late into the night.

He'd thought he could do this; he'd done it for so long—but that was when Peter and James and even Lily, had been around. Now, there was nothing to distract him from the way Remus looked in this pale morning light, as they walked back to their flat. Their flat.

Living with Remus Lupin was an impossible thing; it stung, a vivid and acute pain, sharp and singing and electric—but the idea of not living with him, now, after the gift of Remus's sleepy smile on his way to the kitchen in the morning, after tripping over so many stacks of books so many times..

There was impossible—and then there was worse.

There's snow falling gently all around them, landing in the hair that has escaped Remus's hat. He looks tired and warm, bundled up as he is, his cheeks faintly pink. He turns those gentle eyes on Sirius, and asks quietly, "Alright, Pads?"

Sometimes, Sirius feels as though all he's ever wanted were impossible things.

"Yes." He says, even though he isn't. "Listen, Moony, thanks for bringing me. I appreciate it."

Remus shrugs, still with that deliberately mild air. He turns his gaze back to the road.

"When my mum--" Remus hesitates, and then says, carefully, as if he's having trouble deciding on the right words: "Well. You took care of me."

Sirius's gaze whips to Remus.

Remus's eyes are on the road ahead, far away from Sirius. There's snow all around them, snow in his hair, and Remus is saying all the right things, and somehow making everything about this so unbearably hard. Sirius's chest aches, his eyes are stinging, and he doesn't understand why. He presses the heel of his hand into his eyes; takes a single, steadying breath.

He turns his gaze back to the road.

Impossible.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Several days later, Sirius barely has the key in the lock when his phone begins ringing. He does a frantic dance as he attempts to open the door whilst answering his phone, nearly dropping the groceries.

"Prongs," He growls, depositing the bags onto the counter. From down the hall, he hears Remus call out a greeting.

"Padfoot," James replies, breathless. "Sirius. Listen.."

Sirius stills. "Are you alright? You sound a bit mad."

"I've done something."

Sirius leans against the counter. "What, do you need bail money?"

"Sirius," James says, impatient.

"What?" Sirius rolls his eyes, rearranging the groceries along the counter.

"I.. I've done it. She said yes."

Sirius's hand, curled around a tomato, freezes.

"You what? I thought you were going to wait until—"

"I know," James says, suddenly speaking very quickly, as though he'd kept the story pent up and now couldn't wait another moment longer. "But I just woke up this morning, and I looked at her, and I thought, honestly, I love her, Sirius, I love her so much, and I thought, I could wait until spring, and take her out like I planned—or I could just do it, right now, in this home that we've made, and wouldn't that be alright, too? So I made her this dinner, and it wasn't bad actually, and then I just did it, and she said yes."

It takes a long moment to sink in—and then he laughs, a bark of pure joy.

"James."

"I know, mate." He can hear the laughter, the genuine happiness in James's voice.

"Holy shit. Holy shit."

He can barely contain himself. He whoops, grinning so hard his face feels as though it may crack in half with the joy of it. "Give her the phone, I have to talk to her."

"She's on the phone with her mum, but I'll tell her to call you when she's done."

Sirius dashes down the hall, throwing Remus's bedroom door open. Remus is sitting cross legged on his bed, laptop across his knees. He looks up at Sirius curiously, removing a headphone.

"Why do you look like you that?"

"James and Lily are engaged."

Remus's mouth falls open. "But I thought he was going to wait until—"

"Impulsive little git, isn't he?" Sirius says gleefully, ignoring James's offended squawk.

Remus immediately reaches a hand out, and Sirius tosses him the phone. He proceeds to bob around the room as Remus, beaming, congratulates James.

After several minutes, they say their goodbyes. Sirius, quivering with joy, cannot bring himself to sit. If there was more than three feet of free space in their flat, he might have been performing several gymnastic moves far beyond his skill set. He meets Remus's eyes, and they share a grin, happiness for their friends lighting up Remus's face.

"God," Remus says, resting his chin in his hand. "I remember when she first told him to stick his head in a toilet."

"And look at them now." Sirius collapses onto the foot of Remus's bed, having run out of floor to pace. "We've truly seen it all, haven't we?"

Remus gives him a lop-sided smile, dear and comforting, and the effort it takes for Sirius to still his hand, to stop himself from sliding his fingertips across Remus's jaw, is exhausting. "Are you still working on the Russian history paper?"

"It's due in an hour, so technically, I shouldn't be."

Sirius makes a grab for the laptop, but Remus, well-versed in the art of avoiding Sirius's thievery, holds the laptop just beyond his reach. "You'll go mad reading that thing. I'm surprised you haven't started speaking Russian. If you don't get full marks, I'll burn the university to the ground."

"I'll be sure to include that." Remus replies, eyes darting across the screen. Sirius watches as he slowly slides back into work mode, his awareness of the world slipping around him, focus narrowing solely to the words on the screen before him. He looks achingly, stunningly academic like this, sitting cross-legged on his bed, laptop resting on his knees and curls pushed away from his face. His lips part as he reads, lashes lowered over freckled cheeks. Sirius knows he should probably give Remus time alone with his work, but he can't bring himself to leave just yet. Instead, he leans back against the wall, long legs crossed, and sits in comfortable silence next to Remus. He's stuck on a memory, his mind replaying it, dissecting it; the memory of James, moments after Lily first agreed to go out with him. He'd been grinning, broadly, foolishly, as Sirius, Peter, and Remus danced and crowed and whooped in circles around their dorm room. It is as clear a memory to him as if it had happened only hours before.

He remembers the transformation of Lily's disdain into begrudging tolerance; from tolerance, to reluctant fondness. He would have bet every ounce of his inheritance against Lily agreeing to go out with James--and yet, here they were now, committing to a life together, and Sirius believed without a doubt that they would find that life, and live it happily, and proudly, and that he would get to see it all. It had been such an impossibility for so long, and yet now, it was their future, real and unquestionable, and unthinkable for it to have happened any other way.

Sirius remembers laying here, in this bed, with Remus's shoulders pressed into his, his hips and his fever-slick skin hot against Sirius's own. He remembers Remus's fingers wrapped around his wrist, asking him to stay.

He remembers everything.

"Just one.. more.. moment. There." Remus's head drops into his hands. "It's submitted, I just got the confirmation. I never have to type the word bolshevik again."

"Don't jinx yourself." Sirius advises him.

"Thank-you for all the help," Remus says, shooting him a grateful look. "I almost thought I'd never finish."

Almost. Sirius remembers every almost they'd ever had, all the almosts shivering in the air between them.

He remembers.

Remus's laptop is still open in his lap. Wordlessly, Sirius reaches for it, closes it, and carefully slides it onto the floor. Remus shoots him a questioning look.

"Sirius?"

His name is a question that Sirius doesn't know how to answer, but one that he wants to, desperately. Wordlessly, he shifts so that he's across from Remus, so close that their knees are touching. Remus's face is carefully neutral, but Sirius hears his breath quicken, can see the quivering of Remus's pulse against his throat. With the utmost care, he takes Remus's hands in his, and Remus lets him. Sirius studies the pale freckles gathered at his knuckles, noticing the places where they skip across the fine bones of his hands, abandoning the skin of his palms to dust across his forearms. He turns Remus's hands over in his, watching the wild flutter of his pulse against the thin skin of his wrist, and wonders what it would be like to kiss him just there; to have the evidence of Remus's heartbeat beneath his mouth.

He lifts Remus's wrist to his mouth and kisses that place, kisses that flickering pulse.

Remus's eyes flutter shut.

Sirius lowers their hands and leans forward, but only just, so that their foreheads are nearly touching, so that they're breathing the same air. Remus opens his eyes, and the fracture lines in Sirius's resolve appear at a catastrophic rate.

Remus's eyes are half-lidded and dark, dark, dark. He reaches out and grabs hold of the collar of Sirius's shirt, maybe to steady himself, maybe to bring Sirius closer, which he does, so that their foreheads press together, so that if Sirius moves even an inch, he could change everything, if he wanted to.

And Sirius wants everything.

When Sirius kisses him, it's wild and dizzying and electric.

It's a relief.

His hand finds Remus's hip, steadying the both of them as Remus pulls on the collar of his shirt, pulling him close. Remus's mouth is warm and wonderful beneath his as he curls his fingers into the denim at Remus's hip, the other finding its way to Remus's jaw. They break apart, foreheads pressed together, dazed and breathing hard, and Remus is looking at him with such undisguised want that Sirius can hardly catch his breath.

It's too much, and not enough, and he needs more.

Dazed and wanting, he pulls Remus close, and when he presses his mouth to Remus's, it's with a hunger he can no longer leash. Remus's mouth parts for him, hot and waiting, and Sirius gives up any pretense of control. Kissing Remus is like breathing, like remembering how to breathe—and Sirius has been drowning for a very long time.

He'd thought he known every one of Remus's angles, every slope and narrow edge, but his roaming hands discover unfamiliar territory. The sharp slice of hip bone beneath his hand, the curve of spine, arching to meet him. His fingers move from the back of Remus's neck to the curls of his hair and tug, so that Remus's neck arches back, leaving room for Sirius to mark a path from his jaw to his collar-bone.

Remus's hand abandons purchase in Sirius' shirt, instead slipping beneath the fabric to drag fingertips across Sirius's ribs. Sirius shudders, stilling for a moment and breathing hard into Remus's shoulder, the feeling of Remus's fingers on his skin demolishing every coherent thought left in his brain. His heart pounds heavily in his ears as Remus drags his mouth across Sirius' throat, and Sirius tilts his head back, eyes closed, mouth parted, reverent.

"How long?" Remus gasps against Sirius's jaw, and the question confuses him, the english language a foreign concept to him with Remus's hands gliding across his ribs.

"What?" Sirius gasps, his fingers seeking, his mouth hungry.

"How long?" Remus repeats, mouthing the words against Sirius's throat.

This time, words find their meaning. "Forever," Sirius breathes, fingers curling in Remus's sweater. "Forever."

And then Remus yanks upwards on the tail of Sirius' shirt, pulling it up and over, and Sirius stops thinking about anything at all.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Drew a little something as a thank you for reading! Head on over here to see it: http/accioromulus./post/173439960945

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you enjoyed.

Chapter Text

James can scarcely remember being so happy.

From behind him, Lily gives his shoulder an affectionate squeeze, and he reaches for her hand. Her ring flashes delicately in the light of the kitchen as he pulls it close, kissing her fingers. He smiles softly against her knuckles, and she squeezes his hand, bestowing a kiss on his head and slipping her hand from his grasp. He watches her pour wine into glasses at the kitchen counter, then turns his head towards the living room, where Remus and Sirius sit on the squashy couch across from Peter, who's taken up residence in his favourite arm chair. Seeing the three of them, his brothers, his family, only adds to his sense of giddy buoyancy.

It's almost surreal, seeing Remus and Sirius like this. They're pressed together on the couch, Sirius's feet in Remus's lap, which is not entirely unusual; what is unusual, however, is the way that Remus's head occasionally dips close towards Sirius to rest against his shoulder, or the way that Sirius's fingers trace lazy patterns down Remus's forearm, with an ease and affection that is familiar to him. He grins foolishly at Lily as she hands him two wine glasses. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head but unable to hide her own smile as she turns to gather the rest of the glasses. They distribute the wine amongst everyone before squishing together on the tiny love-seat, James sliding his arm around Lily's waist.

"We're saving the real drinking for the engagement party, right?" Sirius clarifies.

"Of course," Lily replies. "This is strictly a celebratory toast."

James clears his throat awkwardly. "I'm about to be painfully embarrassing, but under the circumstances, I don't see any way around it. Credit where credit is due, and all." James raises his glass. "You guys have been there through it all. You've seen me through the rejections, the dates, the moving in, and now, an engagement. I'm a lucky man, to have grown up with you all. I'm lucky to know you." He meets each of their eyes in-turn. He expects one of them to make a joke of it, but they don't, and he's grateful for it. Maybe, even proud. "Tonight, we're celebrating not only mine and Lily's engagement, but Sirius's acceptance into school for the fall." Sirius rolls his eyes good-naturedly at this. Sirius may shrug his own accomplishments off, but they all know, of course, that this was no small thing for him--nor was it a small thing for them to express their pride. "And also, the fact that you two idiots finally sorted yourselves out."

"So eloquent," Lily says, an eyebrow raised, and the five of them exchange grins.

"To this next chapter," He says, and they raise their glasses, mirroring him. "To our futures. And to us, and this family of ours."

The moment they tumble through the flat door, Sirius whirls on Remus, pressing him into the closet and capturing his mouth in his. Remus grins into their kiss as Sirius makes quick work of their jackets. Kissing Remus is like waking up, every part of Sirius coming alive and aware and wanting. He still feels as though he's walking around in a daze, almost unable to believe that he has regular access to Remus's lips, Remus's skin.

"Been thinking about this—" Sirius murmurs against the other boy's lips. "—All evening."

Been thinking about this for years.

Remus leans his head backwards, revealing the pale line of his throat, and Sirius takes advantage, working dark marks into the place beneath his jaw.

His hands find their way up Remus's jumper, fingers skipping across his stomach to spread wide across his ribs, pinning him in place. Remus sighs in a way that makes Sirius want to yank the damn jumper over his head, kitchen be damned. Not that the kitchen itself was much of an issue--there was hardly a square foot of space in the entire flat that hadn't been privy to some very private goings-on between the two of them. It was more that mattresses were far more comfortable than the kitchen counter.

Remus appears to be having the same thought. "My bed," He pants, fingernails digging into Sirius's waist beneath his shirt. "Is right there, you know." He kisses Sirius in earnest, and Sirius allows himself to be led down the hall.

They collapse in a tangle atop Remus's bed. Sirius yanks the other boy's shirt up, trailing kisses across his chest, down the sharp angle of his hip bone, working at the button of his jeans and yanking down his boxers. Remus breathes his name, then gasps sharply as Sirius lowers his mouth, taking him in. He pins Remus's hips to the bed with his palms, and Remus swears, burying his fingers in Sirius's hair, watching him with glassy-eyed astonishment. Sirius loves him like this, dark-eyed and wanting, pulling at his hair, breathing hard and gasping out Sirius's name like a prayer. Remus's free hand scrambles for purchase along the head board, the blanket, the back of Sirius's neck, and he throws back his head as Sirius works him over, digging marks into the flesh of Remus's hip. Sirius moves with a rhythmic intensity, swallowing, bobbing, moaning around Remus, every noise a demand for Remus to look at him. Remus's hips jerk under Sirius's hands, and Sirius can't help but buck into the mattress beneath him when Remus looks at him, lips parted, cheeks flushed, teetering on the edge. Sirius reaches out to drag his fingernails along Remus's ribs, and the other boy bucks hard, unable to stop the ragged gasp that falls from his mouth. When Remus comes, it's with his hand curled possessively around the back of Sirius's neck, shuddering, and Sirius moves with him through it, coaxing out every last gasp of pleasure.

"Get up--Get up here." Remus breathes, pulling Sirius up to kiss him, open-mouthed and desperate. "Sit up." Remus tells him, and Sirius does, straddling Remus, his thighs slung over the other boy's hips, hovering over Remus's lap. He watches in awe as Remus pulls at Sirius's shirt, yanking it over his head, nails dragging over Sirius's ribs. Without pause, Remus kisses him again, fiercely, fingers working at the zipper of Sirius's jeans and pulling them down. Remus drags his teeth across Sirius's jaw, his throat, his collarbone, and Sirius's head falls back, fingers winding encouragingly through Remus's hair. Remus moves with agonizing slowness, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down Sirius's chest, palming Sirius through his boxers--and then Sirius is hissing as Remus's mouth, hot and wet, finds its target, and Sirius reaches out to the wall to steady himself. He cannot take his eyes off Remus, can't help the bucking of his hips as he slowly fucks Remus's mouth, the feel of Remus's hands on the small of his back, his hips, his thighs, the press of the other boy's fingers as they grip his skin driving him wholly out of his mind.

Remus makes a low, soft noise, and looks up at him, eyes nearly black, a ring of green and gold around blown-out pupils, and Sirius is sent tumbling over the edge, his fingers buried in Remus's hair. When he's done, Remus grins up at him, wicked, and plants kisses across his stomach while Sirius leans heavily into the wall, breathing hard.

He pulls Sirius down onto the bed with him, laughing breathlessly, joyful and vibrant, and Sirius finds he can't help himself. He buries his face in the crook of Remus's neck, leaving soft, tender kisses there, curling a hand around his hip, pulling him in close. Remus strokes the back of his neck, feather-light touches that could send Sirius to sleep if he does this long enough. For a long time, they stay like this, curled into one another, breathing soft. Sirius is hovering on the nearest edge of sleep when Remus taps his fingers against the nape of Sirius's neck in a gentle bid for his attention. Sirius tilts his head, using his elbows to prop himself up.

Remus's expression is open, and thoughtful, and he's watching him with that quiet contentment that Sirius is still getting used to being the source of. Remus's lips part, but the words falter on his lips, and Sirius is suddenly reminded of a late night not-so-long ago, when they'd sat on their floor in front of a coffee table, everything they couldn't say hanging between them. He chases away the memory by pressing a soft kiss to the other boy's lips.

"I'm in love with you, you know." Sirius murmurs. Remus laughs, that breathless, tinkling laugh. These days, he always seems ever-so-slightly surprised, treating every kiss as a shocking delight, an unexpected gift.

"That's convenient," Remus says, and if Sirius could live forever in this moment, he would. "Considering I'm in love with you too."

Sirius is going to memorize every single freckle, every fleck of gold in those impossible, wicked eyes. He grins.

"Lucky me."