Disclaimer: Not mine, though I often wish they were. This story is an attempt at SLASH, so if it offends, run along now.
A/N: feedback always loved.
Sirius paced. He went from the mantle to the coffee table and back. Two hundred and thirty six times he had walked this track. Two hundred and thirty six times he had wondered, "Where in the hell is Remus Lupin?"
It was a cold night, if the frost in the windowpane was any indication. Sirius didn't feel it, though. He hardly noticed that the fire had burnt out hours ago, or that the pixies he had captured that morning were loose and rampaging through the flat. What mattered was keeping his pacing exactly even, marching in a perfectly predictable rhythm. Because if he did so, he wouldn't have to think of the last thing he had said to Remus Lupin, or where Remus Lupin might be now.
"An Order mission at this hour?" He had asked incredulously. "They can't. Are they mad? Why would they ask you?"
"Because," Remus began patiently, clearly having anticipated this argument, "They think you're staying with James and Lily. I'm the only one unattached and with nothing important to do."
"You know that isn't true."
"Dumbledore doesn't, he thinks I'm in hiding."
"You are in hiding."
"He didn't know anyone would come for a late night visit while I hid."
"But if you're in hiding, why have you been called out for an Order mission?"
"Nobody else is available. I have to do it. And before you ask, you know that I can't tell you what it is. It's an emergency, and where is my bloody wand?"
Sirius glanced vaguely around the room. He had remained seated in bed for the duration of their conversation as his companion stumbled about getting dressed.
"So you'll need to fight, then?"
"A wand doesn't automatically mean dueling, Sirius. Don't worry, I'll be fine, and in all likelihood back by eight o'clock. If I'm not, you won't mind alerting Dumbledore will you? It would be best if you took James to see him, I don't want you to be alone if you're ambushed."
Remus hopped by on one foot as he pulled a sock on. Sirius grabbed his hand as he passed.
"Remus, you can't go. You're already in danger. You have to lie low for a while! Let me go, or at least let me come with you."
Remus smiled and leaned down to kiss Sirius on the forehead before pulling away.
"Don't be so paranoid, I'll be back in just a few hours." He bent to tie his shoe, but not before Sirius observed the way his forehead crinkled, the telltale sign of fear that appeared when he looked at a waxing moon.
"It's going to be a risky mission, isn't it?"
"No," Remus replied smoothly, though he knew it was clear he was lying. Remus had always been a terrible liar. As he reached for his shirt, which had been tossed carelessly over the ceiling lamp upon the arrival of Sirius, his hand shook. He took a deep breath to steady himself before buttoning it, while Sirius stared with dark, pensive eyes.
Finally the soft, unavoidable question was posed, "You'll come back, won't you?"
Affirmative, reassuring responses were thought of and discarded very plainly on Remus Lupin's face before he said in a surprisingly even voice, "I don't know. I really have no idea, Sirius. So many of us have…gone lately, and they've been after me for a long time now. Sometimes I think that if it has to be one of us…I would do anything to protect you, James, Lily, and Peter."
Sirius gaped; he had never heard any of this before. "Don't be thick Remus! If something happened to you, don't you think that all of us would feel it? That I'd feel it?"
Remus rose and retrieved his scarf from the floor. He stared at it a moment before saying, "I don't know about that either. You and Peter have James, James has Lily…"
"You have me, Remus!"
"Do I? I've been wondering a lot. What, exactly, are we doing here Sirius?"
Now that it was his turn to look away, Sirius realized that he was ashamed for some reason. "What do you mean? We're best friends, we have amazing shags…"
Remus waited expectantly a moment, and then sighed. His fingers brushed Sirius's chin, lifting it up until their eyes met. "I love you, Sirius. I just wanted you to know, in case anything happens. I don't…expect any feelings in return." He lowered his amber eyes, waiting for a response. None came. Remus turned to Sirius with a rueful sort of smile.
"Take care then, Padfoot," he murmured, stepping away from Sirius and tucking his scarf tighter around his neck, "Eight o'clock; don't forget."
The door slammed behind him before Sirius called his name, and by the time the window opened he had melted into the night.
Now there was nothing left to do but pace as seven fifty-two ticked away. Underneath being frantic with worry, though, Sirius was frantic for a different sort of reason. Remus loved him. Sirius had never been in love before. Sirius was rarely in anything except trouble. And if he WAS in love, how would he know it? He did feel a bit queasy with nerves over Remus. Did feeling queasy with nerves count as love?
Then there was the pacing, the pacing of forgetfulness, which helped Sirius not to think about terrible things. Things that kept appearing in the back of his mind. Remus in a ditch somewhere. Remus being tortured by death eaters. Remus whispering for Sirius to help him. And where would Sirius be? Pacing, useless, wondering. Did feeling useless and pacing and having horrible visions mean that he was in love?
He kept wanting to go to Dumbledore. Remus said eight o'clock. But he wanted to go to Dumbledore now. He wanted to make sure that Remus would be safe. And what if Remus wasn't safe? What if Remus was dead? What if Remus was dead and Sirius never told him that he really ate the secret chocolate frogs and blamed it on Peter? What if Remus was dead and he never knew how Sirius felt? And how did Sirius feel? And why was the clock moving so incredibly, impossibly slowly? Did all these questions mean he was in love?
How did he feel? He had to be honest with himself, this one time of all times. If anything were to happen, how would he feel? What, exactly, would he lose?
And at that moment the door burst inward and a soggy, gasping Remus John Lupin tripped over the threshold and smack into the pondering Sirius's arms.
"Hallo there," Remus said wryly, "I can't seem to feel my legs."
Sirius paused a moment, speechless, stunned.
"Sirius?" Remus murmured, in a very different tone. "Sirius, are you alright? You look like you're choking. And I'm afraid I won't be of much assistance if you are, as I cannot walk."
Sadly Sirius never heard what Remus said, and it became very irrelevant after the scorching, passionate, kiss to end all kisses that followed. Because Sirius had realized in the five seconds that he held onto his Remus, with the warm amber eyes and soft honey hair, his own Remus, that he was in love after all.
"Sirius, I hate to interrupt, because that really was lovely, but would you mind terribly if I sat down?"
Rather than continue their romantic interlude, Sirius grinned and carried Remus over to the couch. Placing him gently on the soft cushions and fetching a blanket from the bedroom. He tucked Remus in, careful to fold down the corners the way he liked, and pulled a chair up beside him. Something whizzed by Remus's ear.
"Sirius, are there pixies loose in the house again?" Remus murmured sleepily.
"Yes, and I love you too," said Sirius.
"Really?"
"Really." Remus never replied, but instead drifted peacefully off to dreamland with a grin of boyish delight on his face.