50-100
work vacation
Chapter Summary
reason number five: turning your work into a work vacation.
Chapter Notes
as always i do not own these characters i am simply borrowing them
happy chapter five, we are half-way done babes
*thank you for all the love. i really enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope...you all love reading it as well.
*as always please feel free to join me on tumblr with thoughts/opinions as this story continues to BLOOM: @greyeyedmonster-18
Will I see you today?
I'll be there.
--
See you tomorrow?
Of course
--
Running late this morning.
I didn't miss de-icing my car
I also didn't have a de-icer, so I used a broom. And my shoe.
The shoe came first and I realized it was a mistake.
Resourceful
Extra 30 minutes.
Your usual?
Yes?
I'll have it waiting.
--
It was a late night for me.
Rough morning for Harry
Will be there eventually if we can get out the door
Remus stared at the name on the phone, wondering at what point he could ask who the fuck Harry was directly because no matter how much he hinted at wanting to know, it was only met with vague answers. Sirius met Harry at 3:00 every day, which was why he had to leave. Sirius stayed home during the week and called them school nights for Harry. Remus also wanted to know why Sirius was putting up with a partner who didn't attend his art shows if they were too late, who didn't accompany Sirius to his friends' houses, who made his homework Sirius' responsibility as well.
Remus also wondered why Sirius was looking and talking in the first place if there was another man in the picture. And why Remus couldn't seem to stop reciprocating.
Double shot. Got it.
--
I sent the first set of pages to my editor and it looks like I'm still a writer after all
A novelist
I have a bottle of champagne...
Marlene and I are going to drink it on her porch If you happened to drive by.
Or not.
We'll drink it without you.
I just might be in the neighborhood.
If you want
With a batch of brownies
--
...Are you awake?
I believe the kids say "U Up?"
I'm working
What are you doing?
Also working
I've never heard of a midnight ceramics emergency
I fire the kiln at night
Kiln is a really big oven for pottery
I know what a kiln is, fucker
Forgive me, best-selling-novelist
Where's Harry?
Sleeping, hopefully.
Why are you up?
Editing
Read that as: staring into space
I'm sorry I'm not there to keep you focused
I don't need a babysitter
No?
No.
But Remus didn't respond right away. Partly because he didn't want to admit he didn't know what the hell wedging clay meant, but also partly because it was nearly midnight and the idea of talking to Sirius, or admitting he had texted him in the first place to help him get focused was, for lack of a better phrase, fucking mortifying.
Remus didn't need a babysitter. He disappeared to coffee shops to write because he didn't want Benjy over his shoulder. So how come he wanted Sirius?
He was still holding his phone, deliberating through options of texts that ranged from " fuck off, I can concentrate on my own" to " I would love to hear your voice, if only for a second" when it started buzzing. A number with no name attached to it, but Remus had memorized anyway.
It didn't matter if they had been looking and talking, and flirting if it was attached to just, and not a name.
Remus cleared his throat, "I told you I didn't need a babysitter."
"Maybe I do."
"How much noise?"
"Enough," Sirius said and Remus listened to sounds on the other line that he couldn't place, but
I need to wedge some clay
If you don't mind noise, I can call you
were followed by a loud, BANG on a counter, followed by another, and another. "Do you mind?"
"What the fuck are you doing? Construction work?"
"Wedging clay, I told you." Sirius said, and Remus could practically hear the smug grin, "It gets the bubbles out so it's usable when I make things. Requires two hands, and it's a bit messy. You know how ballerinas bang out their pointe shoes? Same idea."
"Ah," Remus said, as though the explanation made perfect sense. "I'll show you sometime."
"Do you also dance ballet?"
"Oh we're funny, I see."
"That didn't answer the question."
Sirius laughed on the other end, "I did for about three years of my life, yes," Remus bit down on his lip to stop his smile, even though no one else was around to see it. "Sworn to secrecy."
"Well don't piss me off, I'll write a book about it."
"I'll read that one too," Sirius paused, "So do you mind?"
"Mind what? "
"The noise. God, you're short this evening."
"Still six foot three last I checked."
Sirius laughed, and there was another set of bangs, "Prickly."
"Yes."
"What has you stuck?" Sirius asked, all noise stopping on his end. The same way Sirius would stop what he was doing to listen to Remus talk if he got stuck at the coffee shop.
"Crippling self-doubt, an e-mail from my editor that I haven't opened and four shots of espresso I definitely didn't need," Remus admitted, tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter where he had decided to work. Thinking that slouching over a table would be far better than slouching on the couch.
"Do you have water?"
"No?"
"Okay well..."
Remus sighed, "Just let me suffer, don't give me logical ways to help fix my problems." "Illogical ways only got it." and there was banging on the other end again.
"I don't mind," Remus told him, the initial jolt from the noise gone, and Remus had gotten used to the rhythm being pounded out. Steady percussion.
"Then I'll be here. I won't talk unless you want me to."
--
I'm celebrating New Year with Marlene.
Do you know Alice?
I'm sure you do. I don't know why I asked that.
Alice is great, her spinach dip is better
Is it rude to go to parties just for the food?
Like you care about being rude
You're right.
How's it go--New year, new me?
But I like this you so well.
New year, same me then..
Remus held his breath, hesitantly typing out his next response. Do you have plans...?
I'm in Chicago with my brother Drove down with Harry yesterday Mini vacation
Is that where your ridiculous accents come from?
Yes
Born and raised
I won't keep you.
Text me at midnight.
I'll step outside to wish you Happy New Year
It's too fucking cold for that
I have a coat
...
My midnight or yours?
Both sound good.
--
New York might as well have been another lifetime Remus felt so disconnected from it when he touched down at JFK and made his trip on the train back to his apartment. As he anticipated, the house plants were dead; there was a small stench in the air, and Remus moved to open a window to let some of it clear out. He hadn't thought about taking out the trash before he packed his bag. He hadn't thought about the dishes left in the sink or the food in the fridge that had gone very bad after two and a half months of sitting there. Moldy bread
Musty laundry
Toothpaste with the cap off in the bathroom. A towel on the floor.
Not for the first time Remus wished he had been one of those exceptionally clean and organized people instead of a disaster. Benjy was always the one who reminded Remus when towels needed to be changed out or when dishes should be done. And in exchange, Remus was the one who did the chores.
Remus was the one who paid the rent.
Remus was the one who went with Benjy to every stupid party and reminded his ex-husband when he had dentist appointments, even when his own brain was full of its own meetings.
He hadn't expected the call from Dorcas that morning as he was getting dressed to go to Rosmerta's as he always did. He hadn't expected the turnaround of his nearly completed novel to be so quick. He wasn't expecting immediate adoration and thought he had more time to fester in insecurity before his agent called and told him You did it again, Remus Lupin . But it had only been two days since he sent the dreaded e-mail, and apparently, everyone was waiting with bated breath, and he was booked on a flight back to New York before he could even say, " Are you sure?"
He spent the entire day after traveling cleaning up an apartment that felt like someone else's.
Not that his parent's house in the Upper Peninsula felt any more like his but at least he didn't feel like a guest anymore.
He picked at the skin around his fingers before scrolling through his phone for the number that now had a name attached to it.
"Hey," Sirius said, picking up on the second ring, "I missed you today."
"Yeah, uh, sorry."
"You're alright?"
"I'm in New York," Remus told him, "I uh...had a meeting. Have...meetings, and dead house plants and...trash that smelled like something died in it. So I'm in New York right now."
"You didn't leave without saying goodbye, did you? That's frowned upon. Even for someone as
rude as you."
Remus rolled his eyes, "I'd say goodbye to you and Marlene, stupid."
"Just making sure. You'll be back?"
"Yeah."
"Do you need a ride from the airport?"
"I...I'm not sure. I..My agent really just booked me on a flight and I had to take it."
"She sounds smart."
"She's known me for a while." Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I just mean I don't know how long I'll be here."
"Well, I'll be here so...if you need a ride, you have my number."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
Remus laughed softly, "I...didn't want you to worry if I didn't turn up." "I won't."
"Okay...good, good. That's...good, you won't worry." "I'll still miss you though. Is that okay?"
"I..." Remus swiped his tongue over his lower lip quickly and swallowed, "Yeah...you can miss me."
"Here's the kicker, I was going to anyway regardless of what you said." "Why'd you ask then?"
"So you'd have to tell me."
"Fucker."
"Mhmm. Hey, I love a phone call," Sirius started, "And I kind of have my hands in a vat of clay right now, and I have Reg holding the phone for me. So I might have to hang up before he does it for me."
Remus sat up from the back of the couch quickly, "Oh, shit, right. Sorry. You're...working at your job and not...airing out a crusty apartment because...sorry. I'll text next time." And before Sirius could respond, Remus hung up with a click, tossing his phone to the opposite end of the long couch. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling of his apartment. He remembered sitting in that exact spot crying for weeks after the initial separation. Before papers were served and before Remus had made up his mind with what to do. Back when he was still answering texts sent by Benjy that were filled with such well-crafted apologies they put Remus' career to shame.
Benjy had always been the best at putting on a show though. A big song, a big dance, the ol' razzle-dazzle and Remus fell for it every time. Applauding the loudest in the front row, begging for
an encore even when the curtains were closed until his voice was raw. Remus remembered the rush to find a new place, this particular apartment falling from the sky into his lap, and in two weeks Remus had moved out.
There was a lot of time spent staring at the ceiling with tissues in his lap and a box of donuts next to him; a lot of time retracing his steps wondering if he could clock the moment it all fell to shit. Wondering what he had done wrong-- wasn't he enough --that caused his husband and best friend to find someone else.
His phone buzzed.
Call you tonight?
When you're less flustered
I'm not.
It's cute.
Remus felt his face flush and he closed his eyes giving himself permission, just this once to revel in the high. As much as being in his apartment made him remember dark and stormy days of the past, something occurred to him.
It had been over a month, and Benjy hadn't crossed through Remus' mind. Because instead of heartbreak.
Instead of counting up an invisible list of crimes and fighting in courtrooms... Remus could think of Sirius.
I'll call you.
--
Two weeks, an arranged sublet, a meeting with the publishing house, his editors, a long talk with Dorcas, and three days in his car on a road trip later, he was back in the Upper Peninsula. His book wasn't finished yet, was the excuse he gave.
"I just need to finish it where I started it." Remus told Dorcas, "And I have a door to fix...at my parent's house. It's...important."
"What is going on in that little town of yours, Remus?" "Nothing."
"Well, whatever the nothing is...it's working. This is going to be big, I can tell. I have the same feeling I did last time. So just...finish it, okay?"
Remus had every intention of finishing it, and every intention of doing so at Rosemerta's across from Sirius. He arrived at his parent's house late in the night, the snow in the Upper Peninsula piling up, but his driveway had been shoveled (something he was sure was courtesy of Marlene).
But despite only getting a few hours of sleep, he was up early the next morning, heart racing in his chest. He took some breaths to slow down before he concussed himself putting on his jeans or walking down the stairs because he was anxious to see Sirius again.
He waited until he was sitting in his car, before pulling out his phone, pretending his fingers were shaking from the cold and not from nerves thrumming through his body.
Got back late last night.
... ...
Outside?
Not unless you want hypothermia or have a space heater
I wish I had a space heater
I'm not at Rosmerta's
I have work to do that can't be...well she's not a ceramic studio
Remus' heart sank.
Oh.
That's fine! Maybe I'll see you tomorrow
Prick.
Come to my gallery.
What?
Just do it.
Remus bit the inside of his cheek, another notification coming to his phone as Sirius sent him the address of his gallery again for good measure.
No one had to know that Remus drove a little faster than normal.
No one had to know that he knocked on Marlene's door to see if she had coffee brewed because he hadn't thought to do it and he didn't want to waste time stopping at Rosmerta's or anywhere else.
No one had to know how frantically his mind paced back and forth, practicing words of what he was going to say to Sirius when he saw him.
How were you supposed to greet someone you've been apart from way too long without giving away that you thought you had been apart for too long?
How were you supposed to swallow that much pride and just say "I thought about you while I was
Want a change of scenery?
away" and "part of me never wants to leave again"?
He had let Marlene give him a hug while he stood there stiffly, the blonde demanding a hug back and Remus just became more rigid, wiggling away as she laughed.
But he wanted to hug Sirius.
He wanted to burst through the door and just hug him because two weeks away was a really
fucking long time after having spent every day for two and a half months with another person.
He didn't though.
Remus knocked awkwardly on the gallery door and waited, watching as Sirius appeared from the back, smiling brightly at Remus through the windows, dark hair pulled into a top knot and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
"Welcome back," Sirius opened the door for him, and Remus dodged the hand that looked like it was going to fall on his shoulder as he walked past the threshold.
"Yeah." Remus nodded, "Not much has changed."
All that practicing for what, Lupin?
"Tends not to here," Sirius shut the door again, pulling it closed tightly. "Why are we here?"
Good fucking god.
"I told you, I'm working. Differently." Sirius inclined his head towards the back of the gallery, starting to walk and Remus followed, his eyes drifting down Sirius' back, examining broad shoulders and muscles that were visible through his long-sleeve shirt.
Two fucking weeks was too fucking long.
"See, you usually get the before and after work. What I bring to Rosmerta's? You get my sketches."
"Is that what you're doing?"
"What did you think I was doing?"
"Looks like a diary."
"You think I own a diary." Sirius turned his head around to give Remus a look of clear disbelief and mild offense at the question.
Remus shrugged, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards, "I don't know, you seem like the type of person who might enjoy recounting their hopes and dreams. Wild fantasies."
"I'm insulted. I don't keep a diary..."
"One could argue a book of sketches is a visual diary..." "It's my job ."
"Mhmm," Remus nodded, watching with amusement as Sirius rolled his eyes before opening a door on the side of the gallery. The one the night of the art show Sirius kept disappearing behind with his brother and a few guests.
" Point is , I make the sketches and then when I leave--"
"At 2:45."
"Yes, I come here and actually...make them." Remus walked into the space, looking around at a small studio. A canvas-covered table in the center, natural lighting coming in from two windows on the perimeter. Shelving units along the walls neatly labeled-- underglaze, overglaze, porcelain, red clay-- terminology Remus was unfamiliar with but was drawn to. There were sketches taped up on the walls, the ones Sirius had probably worked on right in front of Remus without him even realizing. A sink with sponges, paintbrushes drying, and shelves with raw, unpainted vessels labeled DO NOT TOUCH. Like his section of the gallery, it seemed Sirius had a knack for creating compelling spaces. His studio could've been a show of his own and Remus desperately wanted to read every inch of it.
Look at it.
"It's nice," Remus told him, studying the shelves with the unpainted vases.
"I'd like to think so," Sirius said, suddenly standing next to him, his shoulder brushing against his own ever so slightly, "It says not to touch, but...you can if you want."
Remus turned his head and could instantly feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck. He hadn't been able to look directly at Sirius the entire time and now he was here. Smiling at him like that . And grey eyes were looking straight back into his own.
"I'll...probably break it. I won't." "You look like you have gentle hands." "I'm very clumsy actually."
"Well, just don't travel too far." Sirius gave him a lopsided smile, his eyebrows cocking upwards once emphasizing the double meaning of his words. "Are you writing today? Regulus works here sometimes so there's WiFi and outlets and...coffee if you're interested."
"You have coffee?"
"I would die otherwise," Sirius said bluntly and Remus laughed softly.
"I'm actually not writing today. I spent the past few days on my road trip writing and I actually think I need to let it sit...trusting the process."
Sirius winced a little, "I have some bad news for you then." "What?"
"See, I have a rule here."
"Okay?"
"If you're in here, you need to be working. It's a rule for Reg, it's a rule for Harry...you're not an exception."
"Well do they get to touch what's on the shelves?"
"Reg, yes. Harry, absolutely not . He also can't reach them so, there's that."
Remus had to contain his satisfied grin. His boyfriend-husband-partner-person wasn't even allowed to touch what was on the shelf and Remus could. And Remus was tall.
Ha.
"Then I am your exception."
"Mmm... no. Sorry. Not with this," Sirius told him, "But, I missed looking at you, so I'll let you walk around and nose about the space...I'll get you coffee too. But you do have to work eventually."
"I didn't even bring my computer today," Remus said, "Or paper." "I can think of something."
--
For the next several days, Rosemerta's disappeared and the privacy of Sirius' studio became Remus' favorite spot in the Upper Peninsula. His usual became a cup of coffee from the small coffee maker in Sirius' studio. Their table switched from something tiny and round to something rectangle and covered with canvas, Remus learning about the intricacies of ceramics.
If you don't bring your own work, you can make something. Wheel or on the table?
Remus had chosen the wheel, which was more challenging than he ever imagined. Not only was the task of centering clay on a moving surface and building physically straining, but having Sirius next to him doing the exact same thing was even harder . Remus was distracted by tattooed hands and forearms with veins that popped out when he was working.
Captivated by the way dark curls would escape ponytails and Sirius would toss his head back to get it out of his eyes, refusing to get clay in his hair.
It didn't matter that Remus couldn't center a pot if his life depended on it, because it meant that Sirius would laugh at every ridiculous swear, and would stop what he was doing to pick up the clay for Remus. It meant that they had matching stains on their shoes, and it meant that Remus was a part of Sirius' space once more.
Leaving fingerprints on porcelain and handprints on canvas.
Remus started bringing his laptop, sitting on a stool at the table and typing with Sirius beside him carving gently into porcelain or painting with the same sense of precision.
Perhaps it was the quiet of the studio, free of the noise in Rosemertas but looking and talking and flirting had turned into yearning.
Had turned into a crush that Remus wasn't sure he had the courage to entertain. Even if he no longer averted his gaze when Sirius caught him looking.
It was the end of the week, and Remus found himself at the wheel again, building out a pot that he made Sirius center for him, even though he had said it was cheating .
"I'm not trying to be a professional here, I'm just trying to abide by your rules."
"It's not as satisfying if you don't do it from start to finish." Sirius told him, "And you could keep writing."
"I actually finished last night."
"What? You didn't tell me! This calls for--" but Sirius was cut off by the rough opening and subsequent banging of his studio door, alongside footsteps and a voice shouting his name.
"Sirius! SIRIUS!" He saw Sirius close his eyes and look upwards towards the ceiling, taking his foot off the pedal and stopping what he was doing. He saw Sirius take a breath, mumbling something under his breath before shooting Remus an almost apologetic look. A teenage boy with dark hair and glasses barrelled into the room, his backpack over his shoulder, wasting no time and storming up to where Sirius was sitting. Sirius had taken his hands off the vessel, wiping them on a nearby towel, and was sitting up straight in preparation for this conversation. Remus looked between them, utterly confused at why this boy knew Sirius' name and why he was allowed into the studio space. "Uncle Reg said I'm grounded for the weekend and I didn't even do anything! He can't just do that! Tell him!"
Regulus was trailing behind the boy, after having shut the studio door once more, "He was sent to the office today for being disrespectful to Mr. Snape! That's why we're back early!" Sirius' brother took long strides into the space, crossing his arms pointedly.
"I wasn't! He sends me to the office no matter what I say! I could tell him I liked his shoes and he'd give me a pink slip," the boy scowled up at Regulus and then looked back to Sirius, "I'm supposed to go to Ron's this weekend, you promised, and Uncle Reg doesn't get to just do that! Right?!"
"First thing," Sirius started calmly, "I can see you're upset but the volume needs to come down. I can hear you perfectly fine, you're standing right in front of me," the boy's scowl deepened, "Second, did you get sent to the office today?"
"Well, yeah."
"What'd we say?"
The boy groaned, throwing his arms up, "Not fair! I don't want to be grounded!"
"Then you should've thought about that before speaking with one of your teachers , which we have--"
"Oh, you just shut up ." The boy wheeled around to look at Regulus, whose eyebrows skyrocketed as he searched for every bit of patience he could find. Remus knew that look well. Remus was sure he had worn it a few times around Benjy's family.
"Harry," Sirius said evenly, and Remus' mouth parted at the name in realization.
Sirius and Harry moved here... Have you met him yet? He's a hoot
No, it's a bit late for him
Harry has schoolwork, weeknights are harder
He can't reach the shelves
Harry wasn't his boyfriend or husband or anything in between. Harry was his kid . You fucking idiot.
Everything made much more sense now.
"Eyes over here, please," Sirius waited until Harry turned back around to face him, the two of them nearly eye level, "I just want to know what you said and then we can talk about it like we always do. But I can tell you right now that I don't like how you're speaking to Reg and I'm half inclined to believe the grounding is from that."
Harry was quiet.
"Yes? No?"
"I told Snape to mind his own business." "That's it?"
"And that if he was going to stand so close to me to check my work, he should at least brush his teeth after he takes his hummus break," The boy mumbled and Remus coughed, clearing his throat roughly to prevent any sort of laughter. Harry seemed to notice there was another person in the studio, narrowing his eyes at Remus suspiciously for a moment.
"Look at me," Sirius said, pulling the boy's attention back, and Remus could see the corners of Sirius' mouth twitching. Behind Harry, Regulus was also looking at Remus, glancing down at the pottery wheel before saying something in another language to his brother.
"No! That's against the rules!" Harry said immediately, "I don't speak Greek!" Remus' mind exploded with questions, as Sirius quickly replied to his brother in the same language.
"Sorry, you're right," Sirius apologized, "We weren't talking about you. But I know, we ," he gestured between himself and Harry, "have talked about you being respectful to your teachers. I'm not Snape's biggest fan either but--" Sirius stopped mid-sentence to think, and Remus watched as Harry's face shifted as well, "I also don't think a comment about hummus was worth a trip to the office. Did you miss class?"
"Only a little. I did my work in Vice-Principal McGonagall's office so it's fine..." The name struck a memory in Remus. Harry attended Hogwarts. The school Remus attended. The one Remus walked to Rosmerta's from, except Ms. McGonagall had been his English teacher, not Vice- Principal. The questions seemed to multiply the longer the conversation went on, and Remus was sure he looked ridiculous sitting there as Sirius attempted to diffuse a preteen tantrum.
"And were we rude to Reg in the car...?"
"...Maybe."
"And..?"
"I might have called him a cocksucker. But you can't prove it!" Harry's voice rose again and
Regulus sighed, shaking his head, holding his hands up in surrender.
"You're killing me, smalls." Sirius sighed and finally stood up from the wheel to go wash his hands at the sink. Remus sat at the wheel still, feeling like he should leave but also feeling like that would make matters even more awkward.
"Who are you?" asked Harry, taking care of some of the awkwardness for him, sitting on a stool in front of Remus. He was still short enough that his legs didn't touch the ground and instead dangled, hitting the rung of the stool a few times.
"Uh...Remus."
"Your pot sucks."
" Harry ," Sirius said mildly, laughing a little as he shut off the water. "What? It does. Am I supposed to lie?"
"He's not wrong, it does suck. Sirius even did the hard part for me." "That's cheating," Harry told him.
"I've been told." Remus shrugged, and he watched as Sirius made an exasperated expression, looking up at the ceiling just as he had when Harry had first stormed the battlefield. But the boy no longer had the wind in his sails, no longer looked ready for a fight, and softened further when Sirius' hands came to rest on his shoulders, pulling him against his chest.
"I see you two have met."
"And I was even going to apologize for shouting so you don't have to scold me about being rude." Harry looked up at him and Sirius made a hum of acknowledgement.
"Sirius scolds me for being rude too. It's alright," Remus said, finally finding the courage to get off the stool, nearly tripping and clambering clumsily on his way to the sink. He could hear Sirius talking with Harry as he washed his hands, his mind in overdrive.
In one day, an entire marvelous, enthralling, wild story had been unraveled about the man who sat across from him at Rosmerta's. Along with cheekbones and a shameless confidence, the man came with his own secrets and a companion pass. Along with flirtatious texts and phone calls that left Remus hanging on every word, Sirius came with his own set of contingencies. A child .
Remus finished washing his hands, walking over to the table where he had left his bag, "I'll go."
"Let me walk you out."
"The door is right there." Remus said, "I promise I can make it."
Sirius just rolled his eyes, bending his head low to say something to Harry before taking his hands off his shoulders and walking towards Remus with his easy smile.
"I'm not going to apologize for Harry," Sirius said almost immediately as the door that divided the studio from the gallery shut, "I would be mad too if I was spontaneously grounded. I'm only sorry for your eardrums, feel free to bill me if you have lasting damage."
"I have excellent health insurance, won't be an issue."
Sirius laughed softly, and for the first time since meeting him, Remus saw the fault. The way Sirius looked down at the ground and put his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slouching a little. The way he didn't know what to say next, caught on his own tongue.
It's not too late to find the receipt and make a return. I promise I'll make an exception to the 60 day policy.
You didn't know.
"I'm...also sorry that was your first introduction. I..usually..don't do that so badly." "How old is he?"
"Thirteen."
"He's spectacular at it."
Sirius laughed, "Yeah...he is."
"Harry."
"Yes."
"You...have a kid." and Sirius just nodded, letting out an awkward laugh, "Harry...he has homework because he's...thirteen."
"Yes?"
"And...that's why you leave at 2:45? Because he gets out of school?"
"I'm practicing age-appropriate independence, per the parenting books, and letting him walk to the studio by himself," Sirius explained, and Remus felt his own armor fall to the ground, clattering at Sirius' feet with the phrase per the parenting novels . If wasn't sure about the crush before, he was sure now. "Reg picks him up on Friday's and it just so happened today...wasn't great."
"Yeah." Remus nodded, and then looked down at their feet himself, "Harry...isn't your boyfriend or your husband."
Sirius stared at him, "Is...that what you thought? I've been talking about him this whole time and you thought I was married ? Is that...is that why you..." Sirius trailed off.
"Yes."
"I told you at the art opening with Marlene!"
"I completely blacked out when you were speaking with us at one point because I was so busy looking," Remus admitted, "I don't remember a damn thing other than your pants and your artwork and getting your number at the end of the night, so." Sirius laughed loudly, and Remus couldn't help but return it. "And yes, I do feel really fucking stupid right about now."
"I mentioned homework." "I'm well aware ." "School nights."
"Okay, okay, I get it. I already admitted to being a clueless fuck. Okay?" "Harry's my kid," he clarified, taking a step closer to Remus. "And...you don't have a husband?"
"No. No husband."
"Wife?" Remus asked and Sirius stared at him in a mixture of horror and amusement, "Okay, sorry ." he laughed softly, "But...I...do..you have a boyfriend or...?"
"Well...I don't know."
"Oh."
Fuck. Too much, too much. Hold onto your crush. It'll pass, it'll pass, what the fuck are you--
"Do I?" Sirius asked, tilting his head to the side slightly. This time Remus had to look away, turning his attention towards the big blue painting on the opposite wall of the gallery at the sheer nerve Sirius had to pose that question. His entire body flushed as he pressed his lips together.
"You are something else, aren't you?" Remus directed his gaze back to Sirius who was still looking at him with his own lopsided smile. This impossibly endearing man with a child was still looking at him. "I'm...still divorced."
"And...I have a kid and a bunch of other shit you don't even know about yet." "I think there's a lot I don't...know about you."
"There's time for that. I just...mean I'm not baggage free, Remus." Sirius said, "But..it's...come to my attention that...when most people do what we've been doing for the past few months, they're actually dating."
"I haven't been on a date in over 8 years."
"It hasn't changed much since then. We...wouldn't change much. We'd meet for coffee except," Sirius moved his hand slowly, his pinky skimming against Remus' hand for a brief moment, "I would hold your hand and pay for your coffee. Or...if we came here, I'd just make it for you."
"That's it?"
"At your pace. Or...we don't and we just keep looking."
Remus hummed softly. He did love looking at Sirius. But something told him he would like touching him as well. That he would like it if Sirius' big tattooed hand would find him in every crowd. And he wanted them to.
"Something else..."
"I've heard."
"I'll...uh...see you Monday?" "Rosmerta's."
"And..."
"I'll call you tomorrow."
"If you want."
Sirius rolled his eyes, "Prickly..."
Remus' foot was bouncing underneath the table as he waited for Sirius to get to Rosmerta's Monday morning. He had gotten up ridiculously early that day and took his time showering and getting ready. He had gone out of his way, gone out on a limb, thrown all caution into the wind. He had properly de-iced his car and waited the respectful 20 minutes for the inside to warm up before starting his drive, but he was still early to Rosmerta's, which meant he had the pleasure of chewing off all his nails before Sirius walked through the door.
Dark hair poking out from underneath a beanie, which he removed when he walked indoors, running a hand through it quickly.
Black boots.
Black coat.
Grey eyes that immediately went to where they sat.
A smile that was just for him .
Sirius got closer, intending to put his stuff down before going to get his coffee but paused.
"Sit," Remus said immediately, kicking out the chair across the table from him. "I bought you coffee."
"What'd you get me?"
"Dirty Chai. Three shots."
"Three?" Sirius sat down, his forearms resting on the table with a surprised expression. "I was hoping you didn't get much sleep this weekend."
"Why's that?"
"Because I'm a sadist."
"Hm," Sirius wrapped one of his hands around the mug, patterned with paw prints, "You...bought me coffee," he said slowly, bringing the mug to his lips and taunting Remus with a single phrase. As he always did. An eyebrow raised in question and Remus pursed his lips watching Sirius as he took the first sip. "Thank you," he said, putting the mug back down. He hadn't moved to open his journal yet. He hadn't touched a pen or a pencil. He just looked back at Remus, time ceasing to exist and everything around them blurring.
Four years ago, Remus had experienced what it felt like to win the race and hear the crowds chanting his name at the finish line. He had wax wings and he flung himself into the sun, except success hadn't been his downfall. It had been Benjy.
I flew too close to you
Wings melting on his way down to the ground; a mess to clean up while tending to his own wounds.
Four years ago, Remus would've never imagined himself here.
Falling once again in his hometown that he swore he would never go back to.
He had tossed and turned all weekend thinking about what if's and we've been separated for only over a year, is this too soon? And what's the point of this when it's not going to last?
But he'd roll over and dream of Sirius and his hands. Hands that were born to build from scratch.
Hands that told and carried stories without fear that Remus had been captivated by since the man first sat down at his table.
Their table.
Sirius smiled slowly, never blushing or faltering no matter how long Remus looked. What do you see?
Everything.
Are you sure?
Not at all.
Remus reached his hand across the table, his pinky hitting Sirius' forefinger, the one with an olive branch swirling around it, and he swallowed his pride, letting his brain wander into fantasies made of blushes and longing and time spent looking and laughing; leaning into his crush, letting himself fall, even though he swore he would never do it again.
Sirius moved his finger, putting it on top of Remus'. He moved so carefully as if walking up to a deer in the woods not wanting to scare it. Wanting it to stay .
"Does--" Sirius started, breaking their silence for the first time in minutes. Hours? Centuries? "Shut up."
"You're lucky I'm ambidextrous."
" Shut . up." Remus repeated, already feeling hot and bothered, diverting his eyes back to the screen where his words had become unfocused. Sirius just laughed though, his entire hand now connected with Remus', and he took another sip of his Chai.
a change in habitat
Chapter Summary
reason six to go to michigan: a change in habitat. get out of your comfort zone.
Chapter Notes
as always, i do not own these characters, i am simply borrowing
THANK YOU is all i have to say (and i apologize to everyone who was waiting for this update and it came later than i promise. i am inconsistent and a liar but i love you all)
*also if you want to learn more about ceramics pertaining to this fic or see pics of the upper peninsula IRL, join me on tumblr @greyeyedmonster-18
PLEASE-- heed the tags in this chapter. TW: referenced drug use; implied drug use; drug mention. It is nothing too explicit, it is nothing to visceral, but it is THERE. TW: drug intervention.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
"Are you planning on answering that?" asked Regulus from the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in his hands. He was dressed for the day, pressed trousers and button-down, his short curly hair styled with product, in massive contrast to Sirius' sweats and hair he had hastily pulled back into a knot at the back of his neck. Mornings with a teenager had not gotten any easier (in fact, they seemed to have gotten worse, no matter how many routines were put in place), and Sirius had definitely shortened his own morning routine in favor of having an extra hour to himself. There was a time not long ago where he would've been across from Regulus in his own designer clothes, and his own hair neatly styled.
"No," Sirius responded, closing the fridge and throwing an apple into Harry's brown bag for lunch hoping it would actually be eaten and not forgotten in favor of chips and the brownie that was also packed.
Ring
Ring .
"At least put it on silent if you're--"
"Go ahead, Reg," Sirius said quickly, folding down the top of the brown bag and turning to face his brother leaning against the counter. His phone had been ringing and buzzing all morning, Sirius an expert at ignoring the noise, and Regulus was an expert at listening for it. "Harry, let's go , you've got exactly 7 minutes!" The part the parenting books didn't include was how the concept of time-shifted the moment your child turned thirteen. In addition to Sirius being a designer brat not long ago, Sirius and Harry were once upon another time very punctual people. That was until hormones kicked in causing Harry to value sleep more than anything else in the world and alarm clocks no longer did the trick. It seemed every morning they were rushing out the door, an invisible race with themselves and a school system that kept track of late arrivals despite Sirius' protests with the front office. Breakfast had switched from oatmeal and fruit at the table to protein bars and smoothies in the car.
"I'm going, I'm going!" Harry's carried down the hall, followed by the sound of footsteps, his teenager sliding into the kitchen on sock feet as he had grown accustomed to doing.
Ring .
"Sirius, your phone is ringing," Harry said instantly, adjusting his sweatshirt, and going to the
counter to grab his lunch, shoving it into his backpack.
"Do both of you think I can't hear?"
Ring
"Both of us think you should answer your phone when someone's calling," Regulus said dryly, taking a sip of his coffee.
"I can answer!" Harry said, but Sirius pulled him back by the hood of his sweatshirt gently, stopping Harry from going towards his phone on the counter.
"Voicemail exists. Get a bar from the pantry, yeah?"
Ring.
"You make me answer my phone," Harry muttered, going towards the pantry, "Do we have
cinnamon left? We should, right? Are we grocery shopping this weekend?" "Yes to all of the above, I'll not have you starve ."
Ring.
"For the love of all that is holy, Sirius--" Regulus said, putting down his cup of coffee and reaching to put Sirius' phone on silent, casting a glance at the screen, "I'm sorry, you have 12 unopened voicemails?"
"Homework packed?" asked Sirius, ignoring his brother entirely. "Yeah."
"Your email inbox-- sixty emails unread ?"
"Boots, coat, race you the front."
"No!" Harry exclaimed, quickly zipping his backpack and rushing down the hall past Sirius, holding his arm out to block Sirius from passing him.
" Who the hell is calling you ?" asked Regulus in Greek, his voice low as Sirius reclaimed his phone from his brother and put it in the pocket of his sweats.
"Happy to schedule a meeting with you today, Reg..." Sirius teased with a smile and his brother rolled his eyes.
"Schedule my butthole, I'll meet you at the studio--you don't get to sneak away to meet your novelist--"
"Shh," Sirius shot his brother a look and Regulus grabbed his cup of coffee again.
"Studio?"
"Sirius let's go ," Harry mocked from the coat closet, and Sirius laughed going to meet his godson, taking his black coat out of the closet as Harry pulled a knit hat over his hair, followed by the hood of his sweatshirt.
"It's not even 8 am, who is calling you?" asked Harry, pausing to look at himself in the hallway mirror as Sirius pulled on his boots.
"Your school telling me that you were late to first period again."
"Haha," Harry rolled his eyes, walking towards the front door and bracing himself for the bitter cold, "I haven't been late this term yet."
"Let's keep it that way..." Sirius followed Harry, pulling his own grey beanie over his head, "I'll pick you up today, yeah? We can get take-away for dinner. You pick."
"Pizza," Harry said without a second thought, "I can walk though."
"It's freezing."
"Back in your day didn't you walk fifteen miles in the snow and hail to school?"
Regulus laughed from the kitchen, "What world do you think we walked anywhere as children? It's winter in Chicago and our father still sent his best car."
"I'll pick you up," Sirius told him again, "I'm not prepared for an at-home amputation when your fingers turn blue."
"But what if I wear gloves?"
"You never wear your gloves." Sirius put his hands on Harry's shoulders, and looked down "Are you driving or should I?"
"Harry would probably be safer..." commented Reg and Harry laughed, "Have a good day, Harry!"
"Bye Uncle Reg," Harry called over his shoulder as he and Sirius made their way out the front door, Sirius grabbing his studio and house keys off the hook and shutting the door behind him. A blanket of white snow parted in the middle where Sirius had shoveled the drive, his car already turned on and defrosted. That was one thing Sirius always got the timing right on.
"Damn, it's cold," Harry said immediately, getting into the passenger's seat, flexing his bare fingers that hit the cold.
"And it's way too early for you to be swearing. Please watch your mouth." Sirius told him gently, "Still want to walk after school?"
"Well maybe not." Sirius grinned, putting the car into drive once they were both sitting. "Who was calling you?" Harry asked again.
"Oh, just someone from a gallery that I'm making work for," Sirius told him, "Those two big pieces?"
"Is it here?"
"No, she's in Chicago."
"How are they going to get there? They're massive."
"Great question. I'll let you know when I figure it out."
"Is that why she was calling?"
"Quite possibly. Wouldn't know, I didn't answer."
"Are you going to call her back?"
Sirius laughed, "I already have a business manager, I don't need two."
"I'm just saying she called like ten times ."
"I hope the mysterious phone call doesn't distract you all day," Sirius said, changing the subject even though Harry made a face, "No tests?"
"No, just school stuff."
"Okay, what's one thing you're looking forward to today."
"Pizza."
"At school, babe."
"Can we make it instead of take-away? Like go to the grocery store today and get dough instead? I think you make it better."
"We can do that."
"Cool," Harry said, settling against the leather car seat and looking out the window again, "What are you looking forward to about today?"
Amber eyes. Long fingers. Freckles. "Also pizza."
"We can't have the same thing! And I said it first, and if I have to do a school thing, you have to do a work thing, since you're not answering your phone."
"Did Reg pay you to ask me about this?" "No, but I'll bill him later."
Sirius chuckled as he made to turn down an empty road, nothing but white and shades of light blue and pale yellow in front of him. "You know what? I am looking forward to being able to paint some plates today instead of throwing."
"I think I'm going to be able to finish Treasure Island today during my free period. Or if Mrs. Longbottom lets us read in her class. Sometimes she does." Harry told him, and Sirius smiled. A few years ago, it was a struggle to get Harry to read anything, for school or otherwise. He fell behind in English, despite Sirius' efforts to make him a schedule and read with him. His therapist said to just give it time but time wasn't in their favor when assignments were due and Harry's English grade was dropping faster than the temperatures in the midwest. Fortunately, seventh- grade English grades didn't go anywhere. Fortunately, Harry passed, and even more, fortunately, spent a summer reading at his own pace. English was his favorite subject now, and Sirius relished the moments Harry would talk to him about what he was reading.
"Did you like it?"
"Well I don't know, it's not done yet. The last 50 pages could be horrible and ruin the whole thing."
"The whole thing?"
"Yeah, every story needs a good ending or else it was just a waste of time," Harry said, and Sirius laughed, taking a hand off the wheel to palm the back of Harry's beanie-clad head affectionately. He made a face but otherwise didn't move away from the touch, letting Sirius keep it there and fall down to his shoulder.
"That's either a very wise statement or very ignorant." "I'll go with wise."Ring.
"Go ahead and answer it Reg. I'm busy." Sirius said, not evening bothering to look up from where he was carving into clay, knowing his brother was giving him a glare. After dropping Harry off, he went to the studio with the intention of getting some work in before he left to go to Rosemertas. He usually met Remus around 11, and it was one appointment he was consistently on time for. He had shut Regulus' attempts at conversation about his full inbox and voicemail down with a look, his brother's voice even easier to tune out than a phone ringing. Sirius had far more practice with his brother.
"Finally," groaned Regulus, reaching his arm across the table to answer the call, pressing it to his ear, "Hello?... Yes, this is Sirius' business manager Regulus...oh, yes! We've met actually, how are you? Yes...okay...yes, he's been...is this about an order? No...okay...I see...can I get your email? I'll follow up with you directly after I get more information from Sirius...yes. Thank you. We really appreciate it." Regulus hung up the phone and immediately pinned Sirius with another look, straightening even further on the stool.
"You know who that was?"
"No, but I figure you're going to tell me."
"Apoline Delacour from Chicago? Who has emailed and called to see if you'll be participating in her gallery show in two months."
"What's your point?"
"Fucking hell," Regulus started, his eyes going wide at the screen, as he scrolled, absently clicking through Sirius' phone, "All these e-mails... these are art galleries, Sirius . I thought half of these had to be spam! Are you kidding me right now?"
"I don't know, I didn't open--"
"Okay, you know what," Regulus pulled the tool out of Sirius' hand, "You need to answer your fucking e-mails."
"You're my little brother and can't tell me what to do."
"I'm not your little brother right now, I'm your business manager," Regulus' voice changed from the high-pitched annoyance to the one he used when he was at work and talking with colleagues, and Sirius sighed, sitting up himself. He gestured for Regulus continued, his brother still holding the needle tool in his hand, "This is unprofessional and inappropriate at best."
"And at worst?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at his brother, extending his hand for the tool that Regulus was gesturing with, "You're going to hurt yourself."
" Really fucking stupid . What have you been doing?"
"I mean, I had a pretty successful show here in December remember? And fulfilling the orders
made at that show...for people who want to buy things...but sure, I'm not doing anything ."
"I didn't say that."
"One thing at a time, Reg. I have the pieces for Apoline, she has a show this month and she saw them, and...wanted more and I just don't know if I have the bandwidth to make an entirely new collection."
"You could if you--" "No."
"No, you don't get to opt-out of this business meeting," Regulus put the tool down so he could access his computer, Sirius sighing and reaching up to take his hair out of the knot, just so he had something to do with his hands. Silence filled with clicks on a computer, his brother's eyebrows knitting together in concentration, before looking back at Sirius. "You're doing numbers, Sirius. This high of volume, even in this town, isn't sustainable for one person for much longer."
"Okay."
"So, you either need to put more boundaries on the orders you receive and commitments you make or we need to make a different strategic plan for you that considers growth and the potential of... maybe not living here anymore."
"Always have to add that in..."
"You have two 3 ft sculptures that need to get to Chicago without breaking and you're telling me it wouldn't be easier if we moved back?"
"I didn't say that."
"Some participation in this meeting from you would be great , Sirius."
Sirius made a noise in the back of his throat, and sighed once more, "It's...admittedly been a little hectic since the holidays. I probably shouldn't have just agreed to that many fulfillments but...I did and I can't change that," Sirius paused, "I'll probably end up driving the sculptures down myself, but you're right in that...doing an entire show isn't really possible if I make it here because the breakage risk is too high. Which is why I haven't responded to Delacour."
"Do you want to say no?"
"I have to say no."
"But you...don't want to?"
"Not really. But...also, yes, I want to say no. I just haven't decided."
"Okay." Regulus squinted, scrolling through Sirius' phone and emails again, "And Jones? What's she contacting you about that's also unread?"
"Pricing, that ones easy I just--"
"What's her cut that she wants?"
"30%."
"New York prices and Michigan prices...Sirius." "I know."
Regulus put his chin in his hand, studying Sirius, "Most artists would be...over the moon about all of this."
"I am."
"He says stoically without an ounce of excitement in his voice."
Sirius grinned slowly, "I...had my moment a bit ago. Without you in here. It's exciting, but...I don't know."
"Most artists wouldn't hesitate to relocate for the opportunity." "I have opportunity here."
"Mhmm..."
"Harry has a school, Reg."
"There are other schools."
"I just...live here. James and Lily didn't want their kid raised in a city and his grades have finally picked up after everything that happened and he has friends and I'm not going to ruin that by
picking up and moving. Besides, I don't need the money, I don't care about the money. That's not the important part."
And there are other reasons to stay now.
"At this point, it has to be important. You could afford to buy a second gallery space. There are
probably some great ones in Logan Square, I can look for you, if--"
"No, Reg."
"Okay well, you come up with your own operational plan then and talk to me--"
"Don't talk to me like I don't know about numbers and planning," Sirius cut him off roughly. "Which is also what makes this so frustrating. I know you're seeing what I'm seeing."
Regulus was right. Sirius had studied mathematics and finance and then economics in college and had enough degrees that he didn't use to his name to understand what the spreadsheets his brother created were telling him. Even without the inside math knowledge, Sirius knew that the number of invoices and emails for orders and show requests were multiplying and he had spent a lot more time since December having late nights in the studio, or waking up extra early just to get his own work done. Keeping track of where to send pieces, how to send pieces, attending shows, meeting deadlines was getting more and more challenging, and a few nights Sirius had wished he hadn't insisted on making it a one-man operation. A few nights had Sirius wishing he had moved back to Chicago in the first place.
Sirius had never intended success when he quit his day job three and a half years ago and started making ceramics as his full-time hobby and part-time occupation, alongside raising a child, in the Upper Peninsula. He hadn't even intended success when he bought a gallery space. It was just supposed to be something he did, and now it was a career. He had spreadsheets and invoices and his brother managing business, and most days Sirius was incredibly uninterested in any of it.
But...part of him was very interested and it was that part --the part of Sirius that craved the sun and flourished in the light of praise and admiration; the part that loved the attention and the high that came when everyone knew who you were and wanted the things you had to offer. Sirius loved his name in a neon sign for everyone to see. But that part got him into trouble.
"Me and success...don't work well together."
"Oh, that's the excuse we're going with?"
"Not an excuse unless you want to raise Harry on your own for a few months."
"Not particularly, he doesn't call you names nearly as much..."
"He only does it because he's trying to make you mad," Sirius told him, some of the annoyance diminishing, "He thinks it's funny to watch you turn red and count to ten under your breath."
"He told you that?"
Sirius shrugged, "He isn't wrong . It is a little funny."
"Are you giving him pointers?"
"Not at all, cocksucker was all him." Regulus rolled his eyes, huffing a little, "He loves you."
"Well of course he does." his brother paused before speaking again, "It's good for him to see you be successful, you know. And working . And trying new things because it helps him try new things..."
Well when you put it that way.
"Tell you what," Sirius said, finished entertaining the business meeting and reaching to grab the needle tool his brother had taken from him, "Make me a strategic plan...for the next five years. One that you think is smart and solid and...I'm not shooting for the stars here, yeah? Just...a plan that--"
"Gives you room to breathe? You're burning the candle at both ends and I think that's what gets you into trouble more than...whatever you're concerned with."
Sirius shook his head slowly. His brother knew him a little too well. The one person he couldn't keep secrets from, even if the secrets tasted oddly like the lies he told himself. "Just make me a plan. And...if I like it...we'll talk about it. Okay?"
"And should I include your novelist in the plan or...?" "He's a novelist."
"You have text messages from him, should I answer those as--" Sirius dropped his needle tool in a hurry, reaching to confiscate his phone back from Regulus, his brother laughing at the uncharacteristic slip into a panic.
Sirius hadn't expected anything about the Upper Peninsula period . It started as a camping trip with Harry and before he knew it, they had found a house, Sirius had quit his job, and they had moved to a tiny village where the closest grocery store was 20 minutes away and the nearest school was 45. It was quiet and simple--people in the Upper Peninsula moved at a different pace than Sirius was used to in Chicago. Even a pace different from Libertyville where James and Lily lived in the suburbs. It was a world of its own, where you could look up to see the stars clear as day, and look out your window and see trees sprawling across the land, not a building in sight. It was peaceful and three years ago, Sirius and Harry absolutely needed some peace .
Sirius could've gone the rest of his life in a sort of blissful moratorium. A place where nothing bad ever happened, though nothing particularly exceptional happened either and he could make ceramics and his brother could work remotely and make business phone calls from their home office and Harry could be a kid. He could've done it. Until he walked into Madam Rosemerta's coffee shop one day and the entire town was blown wide open by shaggy hair and deep-set amber eyes. It hadn't been Sirius' intention when he was waiting for his coffee, but Sirius was nothing if not a complete push-over for stubble and freckles and worry lines that were far from permanent.
They hadn't talked for the first week Sirius had sat there, except for brief interjections here and there.
But it was worth the wait.
Remus Lupin, the novelist, a novelist, perhaps his novelist, was as dry as the desert and had an exterior that seemed impossible to crack at first. But Sirius got to see it crack--when Remus would talk quickly, swearing every other word, making Sirius laugh with spontaneous overshares and delightfully wry jokes; when there was praise and compliments coupled alongside sarcastic remarks; when he would text in the morning to let him know he was on his way, or in the evening to follow up on something they had talked about. Sirius looked forward to them every single time.
He enjoyed the personal anecdotes Remus would sprinkle into conversation when he was exasperated or exhausted. He enjoyed the unabashed rudeness, compared to everyone else in the Upper Peninsula who was too polite for their own good sometimes, tiptoeing around honesty in favor of pleasantries. But...he mostly enjoyed when the hard exterior would fade entirely showcasing the inside of a person who had had a rough few years but an impossibly kind heart, and the incoming texts would read I sat by the lake today and thought of your show or a simple hello on weekends when they didn't see each other at all.
Sirius answered his phone for Remus embarrassingly fast. Before the first ring could finish.
"Fuck off."
"I'll put an asterisk where he can go...pencil him in..." Regulus was smirking as he started typing on his computer, and continued to go through Sirius' phone, reading emails as Sirius went back to his carving.
He had one hour before he got to meet Remus, and got to see a quiet smile illuminated by hazy winter light coming in through windows; one hour until hands found each other like ships in the night, not bothering to let go until they absolutely had to, leaving promises for later between palm lines.
"One more thing..." Regulus interrupted.
"No, I don't think anyone would check the kiln for your body..."
"If I'm going to pencil him in, you might want to consider telling Harry you're dating someone."
"And you might want to be less of a cocksucker..." Sirius shrugged, enjoying the noise Regulus made at the term, his little brother huffing indignantly before going back to his computer.
--
Sirius had his routine--he had his routine for years, actually-but adding Remus to it had made it feel brand new. Like waking up after a long night's sleep to the first fall of snow.
Magical.
Mystifying.
Definitely a little cold. But...enchanting.
Sirius loved meeting him for their coffee dates when Remus' long fingers would trace the outlines of Sirius' tattoos instinctively as he made edits' the world he created on a word document. Sirius continuously impressed by the man who made something out of nothing .
Magical.
Mystifying.
Exhilarating.
Sirius also loved having Remus in his studio. Sirius loved to watch Remus from his view at the
potter's wheel, grey eyes tracing long legs and mismatched socks poking out the tops of his boots. The paint-stained concrete and canvas-covered tables lingered with the smell of sandalwood and citrus long after Remus left when Sirius went to pick up Harry, or just before Harry made it to the studio himself, temperature depending. Barbed wire hearts left behind that Sirius picked up with care every time.
It was a Thursday when they were in the studio again together, Remus' laptop left open and forgotten and instead was next to Sirius on the wheel. A dozen failed pots and Remus was still determined to get it right, Sirius smiling as he listened to streams of impressive swear words, unable to look away from the arch of Remus' neck, wanting to play connect the dots with the trail of freckles from Remus' ear down to where they disappeared underneath the neck of his sweater.
"I feel like I'm getting closer," Remus said, his forehead creased in concentration, "I feel like I should issue a formal apology to every ceramicist I've insulted..."
"Is it a long list?"
"Sometimes I wonder how people got to be artists when I see their shit in galleries or in the little Christmas Markets across the city..." Remus told him, "I never thought much about pottery but you have changed my mind. This is harder than I ever would've imagined."
"And what's my prize for convincing you otherwise?" Sirius asked, watching as the right side of Remus' mouth curved upwards in a ghost of a smile, his cheek threatening to wrinkle.
"I'll buy you coffee." "I don't accept."
"You don't get to negotiate when someone offers you a prize. You think someone who won gold at the Olympics ever asked for a car instead?"
"I would've."
"Of course," Remus said, straining to keep the pot in the center as he pressed on the pedal lightly
for more speed, "After I get this right though, I'm sticking to-- fucking shit --"
Sirius took his foot off his own pedal slowly, shifting to face Remus on his stool. He leaned over to put his hand on Remus' knee cap, pulling it outwards slightly, "Put your elbow on the inside of your knee, like here," Sirius tapped his fingers on the inside of Remus' thigh just above his knee cap. "It'll help you keep your arms still."
Remus's eye shifted over to Sirius briefly, not wanting to break his concentration entirely but did move his elbow, not flinching at Sirius' touch. Unlike the first few times Sirius had made contact, Remus hadn't pulled away. He watched as the pot in front of Remus stopped daring to fly off the edge, Remus letting out a breath, nudging Sirius' fingers with his elbow in silent acknowledgment.
"That was helpful."
"You could also work out more."
"Nope." Sirius laughed at the blatant refusal, taking his hand off Remus' thigh but not without letting his fingers skim his exposed forearm gently. Instant serotonin from innocent touches. "So... how'd you get into this anyway?" asked Remus, "Are...were you always an artist? Like...did you go to school for it?"
Sirius bit down on his lip for a moment, watching clay spin around and around between delicate fingers.
Hypnotizing.
Enthralling.
Will you still be enchanted by me after all is said and done?
"Uh, not quite." Sirius started, "I learned in rehab." Remus' long fingers slipped at the confession, his pot capsizing off the wheel at the crack in the walls. Clay splatters spread before Remus could utter his first swear at the mistake.
" Fucking hell and then some ," Remus said, taking his foot off the pedal, staring at his lopsided and collapsed pot, and Sirius laughed looking up to amber eyes and his favorite crease between eyebrows, "I was so close! With the elbow and the knee!"
"It's not doomed, I promise," Sirius said, getting off of his wheel to crouch in front of Remus', gently maneuvering the clay back in place with his fingers. There was a pregnant pause, Sirius' words crackling in the air around them. Like smoke after a July 4th sparkler.
Usually, this is when Sirius got nervous.
In past relationships, this and Harry were when it got muddy, with rehab being a surprisingly bigger deal-breaker than a child. Usually, Sirius waited to tell people, or at least waited until they asked why he wasn't drinking at a party, or why he was always "the sober host". But Remus was nothing but honest, even at the expense of being liked, and...well, Sirius knew he liked him already.
"You can't just...is that how you bring it up? Might as well have said it's snowing outside ."
Sirius glanced up at Remus from his crouching position on the floor, hands still adjusting wet clay back on the wheel, "I've been sober for almost six years, it feels a bit like talking about the weather now."
"So...like...alcohol?" "Cocaine, actually."
5 years and 10 months and some odd days ago.
Sirius was late.
Not that he wanted to be late, not that he had tried on purpose to be late, but he was. He laughed to himself, thinking about all the times his father and mother had spoken to him about the importance of being on time and not wasting other people's time, because Sirius was late now and definitely didn't care.
He was supposed to be in Libertyville to meet James and Lily at seven. They were having dinner with Peter and Mary and a bunch of their friends from college.
And the thing is, Sirius meant to be on time.
He had left Chicago on the Red Line at 4:30, which gave him plenty of time. Except when he got off
to transfer trains, the one that would take him into the slum-burbs, he realized he might be early.
And if he was going to be early, that meant he definitely had time to go to the bathroom and get a little buzz going before meeting his friends for dinner.
Because food tasted better high.
Beer was all the more powerful high--really Sirius was doing his liver a favor by doing a line before dinner. He could have one beer and feel just as good when usually he'd have to order at least four.
He tapped the pockets of his jeans and searched the pocket of his coats for a baggie. But they were empty.
"Dammit," he muttered. Sirius didn't want to be late and had told himself when he left his apartment that he wouldn't have time to do a line. That he didn't need to because he would be with friends. It wasn't like his corporate functions where he needed drugs to keep from falling asleep at the dinner conversations; it wasn't like corporate functions where Sirius wouldn't be alone sneaking away into the bathroom and snorting cocaine off public counters.
Sirius pulled his phone out, texting with one hand while the other tapped along his thigh impatiently. Sirius knew someone in every zip code--it was part of being a Black, it was part of being brilliant--and he had time to kill.
Hey, I'm in your neck of the woods. Got any blow?
Depends how much you'll pay.
I'll pay, smart ass.
How much?
Enough for a dinner with my friends from college
Nice friends you've got. Meet me in front.
It was a simple enough transaction. An exchange of goods and services would take maybe 15 minutes as a small detour. Sirius would show up at James and Lily's precisely at seven, seven-ten at the latest, and they would go to dinner and Sirius would have something to say. He would charm and joke and cover the bill, just as he always did and no one would know any different. Because Sirius knew how to conduct himself while high and that was that.
But somehow, meeting Evan in front turned into going upstairs into Evan's apartment. It meant doing lines off his sleek glass coffee table and opening an expensive bottle of wine. It meant that by the time Sirius remembered to look at his watch again, it was almost seven.
And if he was going to be late, he thought he should at least sober up. Some.
Maybe.
Sirius took a cab the rest of the way to Libertyville, streetlights appearing like shooting stars out the window, his jaw aching from talking and flirting with his cab driver. He stopped himself short of bringing him into the backseat, the meter running and twenty-dollar bills scattering onto the floor mats of the cab.
A thirty-minute cab ride that Sirius spent 100 on.
His watch read 8:30 when he finally arrived, fishing his key to their home out of his jeans and opening the door.
"Hey, sorry I'm late! I'll pay off the hostess for a good table," he said, shutting the door behind him. James, his best friend since he was fourteen, was sitting on the couch of his living room next to Lily, his wife of 7 years. Girlfriend and Sirius' other best friend for even longer. And that would've been fine itself.
It was their home, they lived there. Sirius visited them on weekends, and in the middle of the week when the occasion called for it. He talked to both of them every day, swapping pictures with Lily and calling James every night before they went to bed. Well, he thought he did anyway.
He couldn't remember the last time he called James at night. Or the last time their conversation lasted for longer than 5 minutes.
But his brother was there as well, immediately standing up from the chair he was sitting in when Sirius' entered.
That would've been fine too- they all hung out sometimes, maybe Regulus had been invited to the dinner. He knew of Peter and the rest of his friends.
But his cousin Andromeda was there as well. Her husband Ted was there.
His ex-boyfriend Gideon was there.
And he definitely wouldn't have been invited to a--
"Okay, okay," Sirius held his hands up, looking at the papers in his family and friends' hands, putting the pieces together "Okay, we don't need to do this."
"Sirius," James stood up, "It's almost nine, you were supposed to be here two hours ago."
"I took the wrong train, it happens. Look, we can just go to dinner. We don't need to do this. I know what this is and...let's just not."
"You know what it is?" asked Regulus, "Really?"
"Some kind of intervention? I don't need one! All of you are so uptight about this sort of thing, but I just use it recreationally." Sirius said, determined to be the smartest person at his own intervention. He could convince everyone that he knew he had a problem. He could lie and paint a picture of someone who already knew they were a trainwreck and they could save the letters they were holding in shaking hands. They could save their sad eyes, and his cousin could release the grip she had on her husband's knee cap as if bracing for a series of blows.
But Sirius sat down anyway, coaxed to a chair by James' hand on his shoulder.
Ted started.
"Sirius, I've known you since you were fifteen years old..."
Then his cousin went.
"It makes me nervous to have you around our daughter, even when you're safe in our house and just playing..."
Then Gideon, the redhead speaking in a low voice.
"Who I fell in love with and who you turned into are not the same person. I miss the man who remembered my birthday and ordered a dozen daisies to appear every hour at my work. I don't miss the man who showed up four hours late..."
Then Lily.
"I know you were mad at me that night I left you in jail after you were caught going 100 on the freeway. I know you hated me for it, but it was just so I could have one good night's sleep. Where I didn't have to worry about what you were doing and if I was going to get a call from a paramedic about you."
Then Regulus.
"I used to love it when people would tell me I looked like you. When they said I reminded them of you. I thought it was the best compliment in the world. And these past few years no one has said that at all. And it's not because I'm not like you...but because no one actually knows who you are when you're sober. And that's my brother. Sirius, you need help."
Then finally James, wiping his tears from under his glasses.
"You're my brother. You're my family. You were there when I lost my parents. You were all I had at one point, and I need you to be around. I need you around for my kid, I need you around for me. You make me brave, and you make me better... I need that, and maybe that's selfish. But I love you so much. Please, Sirius."
"I mean, that's all nice, but I already know I have a problem," Sirius said, folding his arms, "I told you. And I'm working on it! I'm not high right now."
Regulus stared at his brother, and had Sirius been sober, he might have realized his brother didn't believe a word of what he said. "You need professional help, Sirius. I can help arrange a leave at your job and...there are some really nice rehabs."
"I have a bunch of brochures--" James continued, "There's one that does surf therapy out in Los Angeles. You always liked the beach. The sun?"
Call me Icarus.
"That sounds like shit. I told you we don't need to do this," Sirius repeated, "I'm fine. Okay?" But James got up from the couch and walked over to where Sirius was sitting, pulling him and wrapping him into a tight hug. The high was wearing off, and the headache and the brain fog was starting, James grip on him bringing him back to a reality where he had let a room full of people down.
"Since the day I met you, that first day of high school, you have made my life so much brighter and
better," he said into his ear, "I want my kid to be better for knowing you too. If anything were to happen to me and Lily, you get Harry. You know this, you agreed to this...all those years ago. You're his godfather for a reason. Because...you're Sirius and everyone on this Earth is lucky to be loved by you--even now when...sometimes I don't know who you are...but I still feel lucky. Please," James begged, "I...don't want to have to change my will and have my kid go somewhere else. I love you. Please."
--
"I went to rehab for about eight weeks and...I've been sober since" Sirius left out the part where staying sober had its own challenge.
He left out the times where he let the plates he was spinning fall to the floor and had to crawl his way out of dark alleys.
That could be saved for another day.
"What does rehab have to do with pottery?"
"I shelled out a lot of money for a fancy one in Los Angeles. They had horse therapy, surf therapy, art therapy--"
"Therapy therapy?"
"That too." Sirius grinned, "A lot of therapy therapy. I was probably a terror for the first week I was there, I don't remember much because the withdrawals were so bad but after, I spent a lot of time in the art therapy room. We had group in there but it was also just kind of...left open for us. I got on with the art therapist quite well."
"Did you fuck your therapist?"
"Oh my god." Sirius couldn't help but laugh and Remus immediately ran a hand over his hair, clay- streaking sandy blonde.
"Sorry. That...was inappropriate. Even for me. No filter, I...god. "
"I didn't. Thought about it, but didn't."
"See? Wasn't far off."
Sirius shook his head, his heart fluttering, "You're an ass."
"Yeah, I know." Remus shrugged, looking at Sirius, "So...you went to rehab, learned pottery, got out and came here?"
"Mmm, there's a few parts missing in the middle but, sure." Sirius moved so he could sit on a taller stool, leaning his back against the table, and Remus had stopped fussing over his pot.
Sirius loved it when he had Remus' full attention most of all. He never liked to share the spotlight.
"Remember when you asked me if I wanted more for myself? When I told you about...gallery owners coming here?"
"I honestly don't know why you tolerate me, I'm such a fucking dick. I remember that."
"I've kind of already had the more ." Sirius looked up at the ceiling of his studio, "I was a very smart kid who graduated high school early and doubled majored in college and did one of those accelerated master's programs."
"In what?"
"You're not going to believe me." "Go ahead."
"I double majored in Accounting and Applied Mathematics, got my Master's in Economics, and landed a job at a massive consulting firm straight out of school. I come from a very long line of businessmen and...it wasn't hard." Sirius said with a laugh at the look of shock on Remus' face, "I also come from money, so...the massive amounts of money I was making didn't really phase me, and I didn't really know what to do with it. I would travel across every city, weekends in New York and London and up to Paris and Los Angeles and back to Chicago, doing business during the day and at night...found trouble because I could and it was...lonely. Everything was always...about starting and achieving and the next big things . They don't tell you that...there's a sort of high that comes from being exceptional at a lot of things and when achievements came in the form of a paycheck instead of...praise and novelty it just wasn't enough. I got...bored so quickly and...the drugs started. Just so I could feel that high again."
"That's...why?"
"I wish I could say it was because I was...going through something or feeling something, I don't know. Maybe that's a little bit of it. Truth is, I was just really fucking bored and thought I was invincible. And, you know, there isn't a businessman, financial analyst, or lawyer alive who doesn't have a mistress or a drug problem or both. I was acclimating to a culture that...I shouldn't have been in the first place." Sirius finished and looked down at his hands. He ran a fingernail along his cuticle, flicking off a piece of dry clay. Remus grabbed a towel, wiped his hands on it, and then stood up walking towards where Sirius was sitting on the stool.
An uncentered pot didn't matter anymore. "Can I have one more question?"
Hands went to Sirius' shoulders gently, moving down his biceps and forearms, hovering just above his hands, fingertips touching.
"You can ask me whatever you'd like, dear." Sirius could see the faint flush of pink across freckles. He could see it deepen when Sirius grabbed Remus' hand, intertwining their fingers together.
Remus didn't pull away.
You and your story don't scare me.
"Why finance?"
"I really like math." Sirius admitted through a soft laugh, "After I got out of rehab I took a job at a smaller firm that wouldn't have me traveling as much, but...you know. I do my own numbers for everything here and my brother's fucking taxes, which is a headache ,...I do consulting sometimes for him but...more isn't always more. You know? I...just like math."
"You...like math." "Yeah, I do."
"Huh," Remus said, looking down at their blended fingers, clay caked into fine lines and underneath fingernails.
We match .
"When...did you start doing this as a job then?"
"About three years ago. But that," Sirius tapped the table lightly, "Is a story for a different day."
"Hm."
"Yeah?"
Remus' eyes met his.
"I'm just really trying to wrap my head around you being such a math dork, you graduated early twice . Did you get shoved into any toilets or were you immune because of cheekbones?"
--
There was no stutter, there was no stall. The new information didn't send Remus running for the hills or walking around Sirius' past on eggshells. There was no disaster and there was no shift.
It just was .
Another Friday rolled around and Sirius didn't think twice about accepting an invitation over to Remus' house for dinner, his novelist awkwardly initiating the conversation, and stumbling over his words. Sirius found it impossibly adorable that social interaction seemed to be a writer's Achille's Heel; Remus could never speak the words out loud that he actually wanted to, coming out too jumbled or too cold, skirting around what he actually meant.
But Sirius loved puzzles.
With Sirius' confession, Remus was revealing more of himself and the demons that lurked around his own mind. Sirius didn't care that he was going to have to ask Regulus last minute for childcare (not that his brother wouldn't do it, but more on the principle of the thing) and he was going to have to find an explanation to tell Harry sooner rather than later about going to dinner and why Remus' name made him weak in the knees. But for now, it was just dinner on a Friday night before they went a weekend without seeing each other. Even if Harry had asked why do you smell weird? Before he left and had an array of commentary on the black jeans and admittedly, nice grey sweater Sirius was wearing.
You've showered before, you've never smelled like this. Did you borrow clothes from Uncle Reg?
Having a teenager was incredibly humbling.
They spent the evening talking over steak Remus had made, still cooking when Sirius arrived and he got to watch Remus from behind as he ran around a kitchen. His method of cooking was just as chaotic as his speech and his notes.
Messy. Brilliant.
Hands touching across kitchen tables. Sirius eating with his left to ensure they never had to lose contact.
Amber eyes looking back at him over candlelight, Sirius relishing every comment that made cheeks turn shades of pink. Every moment spent with Remus was just another glimpse of sunlight in the dead of winter. His prickly, golden novelist.
Stunning. Blinding.
Touching even as the night moved from the table to Remus' couch, Sirius was unable to hold back smiles as he looked at photographs of Remus around his home.
"Even then you were cute..." Sirius put the picture back on the side table, "Do you still wear glasses?"
"Not if I can help it."
Sirius grinned, "How old were you in that picture?"
"Almost fifteen, I think. Terribly awkward. I didn't actually grow until I was sixteen and spent a lot of high school small and...studious."
"Not much has changed." "Excuse me?"
"Except the small part, now you're just..." Sirius eyes scanned long legs that were crossed, ankle on knee cap, and lean muscles through a dark red sweater. This one fit tighter than the usual oversized ones Remus wore, a sense of satisfaction that Remus had also spent time getting ready for the evening. Harry would've told him he smelled weird too. "Studious. And cute."
"And rude."
Sirius smiled, tilting his head and letting it fall softly on the pillows on the back of the couch. Remus' hand reached up slowly as if taking a chance on the gesture altogether, pushing hair out of Sirius' eyes, and leaving it on the side of his face. "What?" Sirius asked
"Just looking."
"Is it...alright?" Sirius asked, hoping Remus caught onto the dual meaning. He knew his face was alright. Hell or highwater, Sirius knew he was good looking and it often felt like his saving grace. A cover for the parts of him that weren't so nice that people didn't want to look at.
How about now? Do you still like what you see?
With the rusted metal and the broken glass?
"Yeah," Remus spoke softly. Sirius sat up off the couch, leaning in, his own hand moving to the underside of Remus' jaw. His heart was singing in his chest, pounding out a symphony as he leaned closer and felt long fingers move to the back of his neck. So close their noses were almost
touching when Remus turned his head to the side, Sirius' lips awkwardly colliding with the other man's hair.
Oh.
The comedown from the high was the worst.
The withdrawals.
The moment you realize you're not --
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know why...I do know why, and...I'm sorry," Remus started immediately.
"Did... I misread that?" Sirius asked, taking his hand off Remus' face and creating more space on the couch between them. Remus looked at the newly formed gap, his hand still at the back of Sirius' neck.
"I-I-...no, you didn't. I'm sorry," Remus started blinking rapidly and Sirius was surprised to see tears forming in the dimly lit living room.
"Ah shit, don't...I won't pretend that wasn't a blow to my ego, usually, people don't pull...away or start crying or...did...I thought we...?"
Sirius didn't have words either. Not that he ever claimed to.
" Fuck ," Remus swore softly, and then met Sirius' eyes. There were definitely tears, Remus unwilling to let them fall. "I...cry on every first date I've ever been on. And...all my birthdays too. It's just tradition, I guess? And I knew I was going to cry after meeting you today, I just didn't... expect for you to kiss me."
"Is...this not going there?"
"No, it very much is...but I'm...divorced. And I know it's almost been a month since I don't know...we decided to do this thing?"
"Is that what we're calling it?" grinned Sirius, "This thing?" Boyfriends.
"Yeah," Remus said shortly, "It's a thing and we're doing it, and...I know, I know that..."
"Was it...something I said?" asked Sirius
"No."
"Okay."
"You...you know mitosis? Did you like science too or just math? Were you a specific type of dork or..."
Sirius rolled his eyes, but smiled at Remus' brassy response, despite being milliseconds away from crying, "I liked science too. I know mitosis."
"I'm sort of...splitting in two right now. Where part of me..is ready to move on and part of me...is very much not. And I cry on first dates and birthdays and when the clock strikes midnights and
generally...most times people celebrate because I'm terrified of change and that's all my life seems to be doing these days." Remus' hand moved to cup the side of Sirius' face, and Sirius felt the muscles of his shoulders relax. His novelist's thumb against his cheekbone in a perfect fit. "You didn't say anything that terrified me. That's not why. I'm sorry for the ego bruise."
"It's alright, it was already in the gutter because Harry told me I looked weird before I left so..." " You look weird? Remind me to put on my Sunday best next time he's around..."
"I get it. I...know you're divorced. It's your pace, right?"
I think it's why I came back here in the first place. Why I was...so willing to take that flight back to this god-forsaken town. Because it doesn't change."
"Mostly."
You .
"Yeah...it's definitely gotten an upgrade since I left at 18."
"It's okay, you know?
"And if it makes you feel better, for a moment I thought I was going to kiss you too so..."
"It does.
"I like this though." Remus picked up Sirius' hand and put it under his jaw again. "And...this." His other hand found Sirius', intertwining their fingers together.
"I like that too."
"For the rest of the night?"
Just looking.
Just flirting.
Just touching.
Just almost-kisses.
Just Remus' head on his shoulder and long legs over his lap.
Just one more hour before Sirius would drive home, even as the clock hit twelve. Just counting the seconds between thoughts of each other and only making it to two. Just a space where the rest of the world ceased to exist.
No plans.
No expectations.
Simplicity was it's own kind of high.
Chapter Summary
your agent told you to
reason number seven to go to michigan: your agent told you to (and then immediately regretted it).
Chapter Notes
as always, i do not own these characters, i am simply borrowing them
in an effort to get this fic finished before the semester starts, updates are definitely speeding up. i hope this isn't a problem for anyone
*thank you thank you thank you thank you for all the love. i honestly have no words. *also for everyone who is curious: I am also from the midwest and it is truly lovely how many fellow midwesterners have found this fic (I am from Chicago, born and raised. no longer live there, but still have a god-awful accent and can make a mean tatertot hot dish)
Bzzz.
Bzzz.
Bzzz.
"Hi Dorcas," Remus answered in the middle of pulling on his boots, putting his phone on the floor on speaker.
"Have you been avoiding my calls or are we just in the zone? I can't tell."
"No, no," Remus lied between his teeth, "I've just been busy, and...yeah, sorry about the meeting the other day. I got the timezones mixed up."
"Are you free today?"
"Uh, I have some time now. But my afternoon is...booked," Remus stopped putting on his boots, no longer aiming to head out the door to his car, and instead grabbed his phone going back to the living room to sit down. That part wasn't a lie, he was booked in the afternoon, Sirius' name, and collapsed pottery triple underlined on today's date. But Dorcas was right on the other account. He had been avoiding the phone calls. His deadline for the pages was already extended by a month--an extension Remus asked for somewhere between starting to call Sirius boyfriend and learning to throw on the wheel--even though he had finished his book long ago. Even though it had been sitting in a folder on his laptop, zipped and password protected. It was edited, and what's more, Remus was even happy with it.
It was a feeling he had when he had sent Turn Tables out to literary agents open to reading
manuscripts; like he knew they would like it if they just gave him a chance. And it wasn't that Remus didn't want this new book published because he did, and some nights he lay awake thinking about how proud of himself he actually was for doing what he wanted to. Remus knew that this next book, the one that was still nameless and untitled and unsent, would be just as big of a success as his first one and he was at a crossroad of complete fear and excitement for the way the path could unravel. Because he had been down it before, and he watched his marriage fall apart as a result.
"Our deadline is in two weeks, and it's final," she said, "We've all read the pages you sent and at this point, I'm more upset I don't know how this story ends than upset about the deadline."
"It's not particularly happy."
"I would expect nothing less," she said, "So, how's it going?"
"It's...fine."
"Fine as in you can send me them today or...?" Remus was quiet, "You finished haven't you?"
"W-what? No."
"You so did."
"No."
"Your voice gets higher when you're lying."
"W-what? No," Remus said, catching onto the way his voice had involuntarily gone up an octave, "No, it doesn't."
"You've finished," she repeated.
"Yeah, I fucking did. Okay? It's all done. I even like it." "Pages," she said firmly.
"I have two more weeks for my deadline."
"Okay, what the hell is going on out there? You disappear on a whim, write something fucking brilliant like I knew you were going to, and now you're...what? Holding pages hostage? What is this? Is it nerves?"
"Something like that."
"You're Remus John Lupin! Best selling novelist! I don't have time for nerves when there's a list of venues that want to confirm book readings and signings and a massive check waiting to be issued."
"Okay well, you don't really have a choice," he told her, "I have the pages." "Oh, you fucking prick."
"That's me, and this is a very unprofessional business meeting."
"Says the client who is hoarding his writing from his agent and publishing house who is going to make him money."
"I don't think that's unprofessional. I could be reading through them a few more times, perfecting the craft."
Dorcas heaved a sigh on the other end, "What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"Uh-huh. Okay. Sure . Let me break this down for you, you wonderful-beautifully-brilliant- asshole," she started and Remus had to stifle a laugh again, "Hell or highwater, flood, snow, hurricane--in two weeks, you send those pages. You know there is far more work that goes into this other than just publishing and you have been absent. We're all excited and we're all rooting for you but this is a whole new level of writer reclusiveness . So I ask you, what's going on?"
Sirius.
That's what was going on.
He wasn't ready to let it go. He wanted to stay in the liminal space with him.
"I...my...door."
"Your door?"
"At my parent's house? It rattles at night when the wind blows. And...it needs to be fixed and I've...put off fixing it--"
"Your door? This is about a door?"
"Yep. I just need to fix the door. The neighbors are getting testy and..yeah. So I'm actually going to
go fix that now and it was great talking to you." "Remus--"
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the rattling door. Let's talk next week about the pages!" He hung up quickly, reclining his head against the back of the couch and inhaling deeply with his heart racing.
He knew this was going to happen. Remus even wanted it to happen.
Remus wanted to write another book and he wanted his name to be everywhere in New York City once again if only to piss off Benjy. If only so his lousy, cheating, fucker of an ex-husband wouldn't be able to walk into a department store or order a fucking sandwich at the deli without hearing about Remus' book.
It wasn't Remus' intention to stay in the Upper Peninsula, no matter how...perfect it had been to write. No matter how stunning the sun looked setting on the lake in the winter when the yellow and oranges would come through the cracks in the trees, catching the white snow on fire, transforming the grey of the lake into something soft and pale blue. He was never going to stay, even if Madam Rosemerta's cherry latte's put a New York cup of coffee to shame.
Even if Marlene had become a better friend to him than all the ones he thought he had. Even if...even if Sirius was there.
Because there was no way for Sirius to be and for a book to be. Remus had been there, done that, bought the t-shirt and wore it out. It didn't work. It couldn't work. And if there was anything Remus had learned through a harrowing divorce and heartbreak...words, pages, and times new roman font was not going to wake up one day and decide they didn't love you anymore.
Three and a half years ago
Remus stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, tucking his crisp, white button-down into the front of his black trousers that were tailored perfectly to Remus' body. He hadn't even had to take out a credit card to be able to pay for the items or the modifications. He could slap his debit card down on the counter and not break a sweat, no longer worrying about whether or not it would be declined. Remus had even broken the habit of checking his bank account before every transaction.
His book had hit the shelves just over a year ago and Remus was still amazed at the reception. Every book signing, every reading, every report the publishing house pulled of copies sold was another reminder to Remus that his words were out for public consumption.
A reminder that he was doing something right if so many people wanted to read what he wrote.
He grabbed his tie from the hook on the back of the door, throwing it around his neck, watching in the mirror as fingers knotted it. Tom Ford. Designer. Ordinarily, it didn't matter, and Remus walked around the city in the same worn-out jeans and broken in sweaters he had owned for years. But it was nice, for once, to go to an event and not stick out with a borrowed suit, or shoes that were obviously thrifted.
He was no longer struggling to fit in. He didn't have to fight his way to find a seat in the room. Instead, there just was one for him, reserved for him, made for him.
And it felt phenomenal.
He saw his husband appear in the mirror behind him, still dressed in his jeans from the day.
"Are you feeling okay?" asked Remus, adjusting his tie underneath the collar of his shirt, "You're not dressed."
"Are you sure you have to go?" Benjy returned, walking behind him and putting a hand on Remus' ass briefly, cupping it through tight trousers.
"It's for work, Benj."
"It's a party." How quickly the contact faded, Benjy taking his hands off Remus as soon as there wasn't an acquiesce to his desires. There was once a time Remus would've bent over the counter, bent over backward to cater to Benjy. But...praise from strangers was wind in Remus' sails, bolstering his confidence with every compliment. He was never the one people looked at--but they were now. He was never the one people noticed--but they were now. He didn't love being the center of attention, still shuffling at parties, grateful for his agent who accompanied him, but...it was a hell of a lot better than being ignored.
"It's an event with other authors. I'm being honored for best new author by the publishing house. It's a celebration, not a party."
"Same difference. It's the same people you've already met."
Remus closed his eyes and took a breath in, "It's not."
"Why do you have to keep going to these things? To promote your book? I thought that's what the book tour was for."
"Is that what this is about? Bent out of shape because I'm leaving for a weekend?"
"It's two weekends every month. Not to mention the week you're spending in Los Angeles." "It's for work!"
"Why?"
"What do you mean why?" Remus asked, becoming exasperated, and turned around to face his husband. Sometimes it felt like they only got two good years of marriage. The second Remus sold his book was the second the Benjy he fell in love with started to fade. There was excitement initially, but his husband was having a hard time adjusting to the phone ringing and Remus having to answer it; to the late nights he spent writing and the meetings during the day. Benjy had quit working for his parents so he could spend more time at home with Remus, or so he said, but even then, he was constantly annoyed at how often Remus just wasn't available.
Remus didn't know what becoming a published-fucking-author would look like. Otherwise, he might have slipped it into their vows alongside, "I promise to put you first" and "I promise to love you even when I hate you". Benjy didn't know either. They had both lived in some delusional world that writing for a living meant Remus would just be at home with his slippers and his laptop, and Benjy could sit there, enjoying the paycheck and enjoying his husband. Reality was a cruel mistress.
"Why do you have to go? Why do you have to tour for work? Can't you just write another fucking book and call it a day?"
"Oh, yeah," Remus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, "Let me just go ahead and whip out another 100 thousand words just so you don't have to be alone for longer than a minute."
"Excuse me for wanting to spend time with my husband. I'm sorry that makes me such a terrible fucking person."
"You're invited to this party!" "You said it wasn't a party!"
"Oh my fucking god." Remus said, throwing his hands into the air, "Are you coming, or are you going to stay here and pout the rest of the night?"
"I'm not coming."
"Great. Thanks for the support."
"In case you haven't noticed, I've been to plenty of them already and all they do is ignore me all night."
"I don't."
"Well, you shouldn't."
"Yet that's so hard for you to--"
"Oh, not this shit again."
"I just feel like I need to remind you that I went to actual parties with you for years where I didn't know a single person and--"
"You knew people there!"
"I'm done," Remus said, turning back towards the mirror and running a comb through his hair once more for good measure before exiting the bathroom.
"Go ahead and walk away like you always do. I'll just be here waiting like your good little boy."
"I invited you. You're invited." Remus said through clenched teeth, as he took his suit jacket off the hanger in the bedroom, shrugging it over his shoulders. It fit like a glove.
"I don't understand why you can't just stay home for once." "And I don't understand why you're asking me to."
"I miss you, Remus. I miss weekends when it was just us and Chinese food and crappy television..." Benjy said, walking towards Remus. He ran his hands over Remus' shoulders, Remus unsure if he was feeling the material of the suit or wanting some sort of physical connection. An attempt at bringing them close when more often than not they couldn't be further away. Separate pages. Separate cities.
"I'm...sorry," Remus said, letting out a breath and some of the resentment he was holding in his body. It wasn't easy to be the one who waits. It wasn't easy to be the person at home, watching the hours tick by until you could feel someone else's weight. And Remus knew this because he had been the one who waited.
Waited for Benjy to come home from bars.
Waited for Benjy to come home from traveling, when Remus had worked at the coffee shop and couldn't just take off for a trip to Los Angeles or the Bahamas.
Now, he waited for Benjy to stop being mad, and that was just as hard. "Me too."
Remus noted, not for the first time, Benjy refused to say the words sorry. Remus let out another, smaller breath to let that go as well.
"I'll come home early, okay? Stay for dinner, a little bit after and then I'll come home and we can watch Property Brothers and pretend we're shopping for a home ourselves. Okay?" Remus asked, ducking his head down to catch Benjy's green eyes in his, "Okay? I love you. I don't want to argue with you about this."
"I don't like arguing either. I...it was just easier before..."
Before the world knew who you were. It was easier when Benjy had Remus all to himself, and he could take as much as he wanted.
Remus shook the thought out of his head, "Benjy...I'm not going to apologize for doing well. I'm... not," Remus told him, "So...I think you need to find a way to be okay with this, and just trust that I'm coming home to you. I will write another book one day, and...this might be closer to what our
lives look like. You need to be okay with that." "What if I'm not?"
"Then...I don't know, Benj." Remus looked at his watch, "If I'm leaving early, I can't be late. If you change your mind, you're always welcome to come." Remus leaned in and kissed Benjy on the forehead, his husband not saying another word as Remus walked out the front door of their new flat. He was so proud when he moved in there.
Maybe he still was proud.
But everything had changed since then and Remus couldn't explain why it felt like his husband was slipping away.
He knew one day he was going to pack up his car and leave the Upper Peninsula. This wasn't the place Remus was going to lay his head down for the rest of his life...even if it was more charming than he initially had given it credit for. Even if Sirius made the tiny town feel entirely different. Even if Remus was convinced that nothing would get better the moment he parked his car in front of his parent's house and had told himself to stay away from like and love and lust like the plague. Sirius had proven him entirely wrong.
He opened his eyes and looked towards the door, the winter breeze making the hinges rattle. He needed to fix his door.
Remus got up from the couch, rushing to the back laundry room where a host of tools were located underneath the sink. He grabbed his father's old toolbox, feeling incredibly impulsive as he went outside without a coat.
"Hey New York!" shouted Marlene from her porch, "What are you-- oh ."
Without a second thought, Remus had hit the handle of his door with the hammer from his father's tool kit, hitting the round knob until it broke off, landing on the wooden porch with a thud . He collected the screws that had fallen from the impact, footsteps behind him.
"What are you doing?"
Remus looked over his shoulder at Marlene, staring up at the blonde who was in a neon pink puffer coat, and a white knit headband, "I'm fixing my door."
"By...breaking off the handle."
"Yep," Remus said, turning his head back around to look at the hole in his door. He could see straight inside to his living room. Straight inside to his phone lighting up on the coffee table with a Bzzz. drowned out by the ringing in his ears and breath sounds. "I...don't know anything about fixing doors."
"That's very obvious. Now you don't have a handle."
"Tell me something I don't know. I'm divorced...and also somehow dating? And I don't even live here and the truth is, I haven't had a handle on anything for five fucking years." Remus stood up, wiping his nose that was running from the cold, Marlene giving him an odd look, "What?"
"Is this some sort of writer's crisis? Do you need to be alone? Is there someone I should call or...?" "Fuck off."
"Well is it?"
"I finished my book," he said.
" Finally , you've been here long enough."
"I finished it a month ago actually, I just didn't say anything."
The blonde's eyebrows raised, disappearing into the headband, "So you're going to fix your door then...before you go?"
"Might take a while because...I know nothing about doors and I think I just made it worse."
"You definitely did."
"Helpful," Remus responded sarcastically and Marlene laughed.
"I don't know anything about doors either. I made my brother come into town to fix mine. He's in Detroit," she said, "Wanna go to the hardware store?"
"You're driving."
"We could set up a booby-trap just in case any burglars come around while we're out. You know, Home Alone the shit out of your front door." She grinned, heading down the steps, and Remus laughed a little. Marlene and himself were the only two people who came down this road at all. That, and, the only thing anyone could possibly steal of value was Remus' laptop. And that would be a perfectly convenient excuse to not submit his pages.
That and his door.
--
Sirius could hear Regulus on the phone from where he was in the kitchen. Harry sat at the small table, a pencil in his hand, slumped over homework as Sirius continued to put away dishes, on stand-by for homework help. He had already ordered the Thai food at Harry's request, and Remus was already on his way down. Sirius had changed when he got home from the studio and was trying to pretend he wasn't riddled with nervous energy about having Remus in his home.
Around his kid.
With his brother . The person who knew most about Sirius in the world and despite saying otherwise knew would try to embarrass him at some point during the night.
The last actual boyfriend Sirius had was before he was sober; before everything went to hell in a handbasket and Sirius left the big city for the tiniest town he could find with a ten-year-old. Sirius hadn't met anyone else in quite some time who was as remotely interesting and captivating as Remus. No one as smart and dedicated and ambitious, who Sirius actually wanted to spend time with and introduce him to Harry. Sirius had had one too many close calls in the studio with Remus, leaving the other man inside the kiln room when Harry showed up after school early or making up excuses to disappear for phone calls in his bedroom after dinner. Sirius wanted to ease into the
introduction but turns out there was no easy way to tell your thirteen-year-old you were dating and navigating the initial conversation felt awfully similar to diffusing a bomb.
Connect this wire here.
Cut the other one there.
Hope it doesn't blow up in your face.
Parenting books also skipped over this part, assuming parents were always two and never one, and Sirius was flying by the seat of his pants.
"Do you remember Remus?"
"The guy who sucks at pottery?"
"Yeah."
"What about him? Is he banned from the studio?" "I...I've been seeing him."
Thankfully, Harry's lack of tact had taken the rest of the conversation away from him, and Sirius had proposed inviting him for dinner. He had hoped the prospect of no school the next day would make the situation more amenable for Harry, but...the parenting books also forgot to mention how quickly teenagers changed the script. Sirius had folded a hand towel, putting it back on the oven handle, scanning the kitchen for anything out of place. He ran a hand over his hair. Maybe he should put it up before Remus arrived? He recalled Remus mumbling something about the back of Sirius' neck once
"Why's he coming for dinner again?"
"I invited him."
"Yeah, but why?"
"Because I like him, Harry and that's what you do." Sirius told him, "And I want him to meet you and Reg."
"Sounds like he already knows Reg."
"They've met a few times, yes."
"It's a school night you know. I can't have friends over on school nights..." "It's Friday."
"Then why am I doing homework?"
"Because we're not going to leave it all until Sunday night...and besides that. Even if it was a school night, I believe the rule is you can't have friends over until your homework is done on school nights...I finished my homework."
Harry scowled softly at Sirius' logic still not looking up from his homework on the table, "You like him?"
"I do," Sirius said, pulling the chair out across from Harry and sitting backward in it as Harry continued working on his math homework. "Is that okay?"
"That you like him?" "Mhmm."
"What are you gonna do if I say no? Just stop? I'm only thirteen but I don't think it works that way."
"You'd be right." Sirius nodded, "Are...you upset that I like him?"
"No. It's okay if you date, Sirius..." Harry said, "While you're young and stuff..."
Sirius laughed leaning onto his arms that were on top of the chair, his chin resting on his hands, "I haven't exactly...dated anyone like this in a while."
"I've noticed."
"What?"
"It doesn't really matter, I just know that since we've moved here you haven't dated. Before then, I dunno, I remember a bunch of random guys coming to our house with you. Mom called them your flavors of the month...though I don't think I was supposed to hear that"
"She did it to my face too." Sirius smiled fondly. Lily was never one to pull punches, and most days, Sirius could see a lot more of her in Harry than James.
Harry smiled a little looking up at Sirius, green eyes meeting his own, "So I don't know...you can like him. I guess. But...maybe...wait for a little on seeing if I like him?"
"Alright. That's fair," Sirius told him, "For what it's worth, I think you will. He reads far more than I do..." Somewhere in dizzy daydreams, Sirius had imagined Remus and his godson talking books with one another. Remus giving Harry recommendations, a relationship formed over a mutual love of reading.
"Do I get to ask him questions? If he eats dinner with us?"
"Depends if they're respectful."
"I'm not going to call him a miserable shit-sipper if that's what you mean."
" Harry ," Sirius dragged out, trying and failing to conceal the laugh. "I don't know how you think of these..."
"You're the one who taught me suck-stick."
"Shhh," Sirius said, reaching forward to poke his godson playfully in the arm, "I did no such thing. I don't talk like that ever. You are just a wildly imaginative kid and if any one of your teachers or Uncle Reg asks, that's the story I'm sticking to."
Harry laughed as well, finally putting down his pencil to look back at Sirius, mirroring his position with his arms flat on the table, and chin on top of his fingers, "I'll think of some questions. Good ones." Harry's eyes twinkled mischievously, "You know, really grill him. Is Uncle Reg preparing too? He's the scary one."
"Uncle Reg can't scare a butterfly."
"Sometimes, when he uses his business voice and crosses his arms. You've never had him pick you up from the front office."
Sirius chuckled to himself, not revealing to Harry that Regulus had in fact picked him up from a front office before. Except the office had a jail in Las Vegas. And the scarier part had been the body tremors and pounding headache as he came down off the high, his brother lecturing him from the driver's seat.
"You can ask him questions, but...if he doesn't want to answer them, please be kind about it. Yeah?"
"I'm kind . All my report cards say so." Harry said matter-of-factly, "So...like is he your boyfriend?"
"He is," Sirius smiled.
"For how long?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think you'll marry him? "I don't know."
"What's the point if you don't?" Sirius' breath caught in his throat at the directness of the question. At the deja vu of the question.
You're telling me this guy's the one? Or is he just for now? Lily's voice echoed in his mind. James' not far behind saying that one day, he'd find someone worth settling down with .
"Sometimes I...think it's nice to love someone for a little bit." Sirius said, and he could see Harry's mind working behind furrowed eyebrows and glasses, "What are you thinking?"
"Dunno."
Sirius reached a hand forward, running a hand over his godson's hair, "I can take it, I promise."
"It just...seems stupid to even like someone if it's not going to be forever. Like, my parents? They loved each other a long time, didn't they?"
"Yeah, they did. They had a love of legends, I think."
"That just sounds better to me. Do you want that? Someone for a long time?" "I...don't know."
"Well, it sounds to me like maybe you should ask some questions too." Harry said and Sirius laughed again, his godson tilting his head to lean into Sirius' broad hand that was now on the side of his face, "Thanks...for asking me if it was okay."
"You know you're my world, babe."
"I know, babe . Can you check my math homework, babe , and then can I watch television before your other babe gets here?"
"I don't call him babe, you're my only babe, babe ."
Harry was grinning now, his smile sending him straight back to his best friend, and also to a much younger kid. Back when the smiles were easier to come by and Harry's cheeks had more weight to them, "Okay, so if you say babe at the dinner table he won't answer?"
"Nope, just you."
"If you say so," Harry sat up off his homework and handed it across the table to Sirius to look over. "Actually, I think I'm going to plot with Uncle Reg."
"Make sure he's done working first, yeah?"
" Duh . Like I even want to listen to his business calls..." Harry said walking towards the doorway of the kitchen his arm catching the door frame before he was completely out, "Sirius?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"I'll love you a long time. If no one else does or you don't want anyone to. But, I think you should...want that I mean."
"Thanks, kid. Love you long time too."
The dinner went by in a blur. Sirius was mortified as his teenager brought out index cards with questions on them to ask Remus, each question oddly specific and not at all like his mind had told him it would be. It wasn't Leave it to Beaver. It might as well had been a crime scene investigation.
Are you a morning person or a night person?
Why did you want to be a writer?
Did you go to school?
What's an interesting fact that keeps you up at night? Do you think your book is actually good?
What have you learned about ceramics since dating Sirius?
After all the experience, Sirius had half a mind to write his own parenting book called Here's the Shit They Didn't Tell You. Regulus hadn't been any better, him and Remus taking turns with playful jabs at his expense, his brother all too eager to reveal every embarrassing secret he had ever had.
Sirius told me he did ballet for three years?
Oh, you should've seen him. He was a gazelle.
And Sirius was relieved when the dinner was finished, and he could start clearing the dishes, eager to give Harry something to do other than continue to ask questions of Remus, who had an uncanny ability to take the scripted honesty in stride.
"Hey, babe?" Sirius asked over his shoulder from where he was closing up the leftover food and
taking out the serving utensils
"Yeah?" Harry and Remus responded at the same time and the synchronicity was followed up with a victorious shout from his godson. Sirius closed his eyes, realizing what he had unintentionally done, his brother laughing in the background.
"Told you! Ha!"
"Did I miss something?" Remus asked and Sirius turned around, shaking his head, Harry grinning widely.
"Sirius calls you babe," Harry told him, "Sirius also calls me babe. He tried to pretend he didn't, acting like I was special."
"I mean, Sirius calls the clerk at the grocery store babe, I hardly think that's...a metric." And to his surprise, Harry laughed, "No one should feel special about babe ."
"Yeah, that's rude, Sirius. We've both been cheated." "Jilted, even," added Remus.
"How about you brainstorm a new term of endearment while also taking out the trash," Sirius said, Harry, making a face behind Remus' head at the request.
"You shouldn't make your guest take out the trash, Sirius," Regulus chimed in, putting an empty container into the open bag, "That's twice rude you've been."
"Can I scold you now?"
"I would also like to get in on that," Remus agreed and Harry laughed again. Sirius was usually quick with a response, but for once felt absolutely unable to defend himself. Disarmed entirely by his boyfriend and his teenager getting past the hump of the first meeting and cue card questions into something that felt real. Like they had been poking fun at Sirius together their entire lives.
Regulus nudged him, before pulling the trash out of the can, "I've got this. Go sit." He said softly, inclining his head to the table. And Sirius did, reaching a hand over to mess up Harry's hair affectionately, his godson sitting up with a term of endearment victory, and he listened as Remus was finally able to get a word in.
Sirius tells me you like to read. Do you have a favorite?
Sirius kept his hand on Harry.
His heart was somewhere in Remus' lap though.
Line in the sand officially crossed without even sharing a kiss.
--
Two weeks ago, Remus thought adding Harry and Regulus into the world that he and Sirius had created would make it complicated. But now, it felt as simple as breathing. If Remus went to the studio to meet Sirius, he would stay past the 3:00 pm mark, letting a teenage boy critique his pottery over homework, and letting Sirius' life consume him entirely, ignoring appointments and responsibilities. Sirius' studio and his big house became a golden safety net. It felt simple to listen
to Harry decide on what take-away to get, on Friday and to argue with Sirius about paying for it (though Remus always lost). As if Remus had been a fixture and a constant for longer than two weeks.
Because now he was in Sirius' living room, the sun disappeared behind the mountains and the clock ticked behind soft conversation. It was getting later and later, but the only way Remus knew that was from looking at the fireplace that was on a dying ember in Sirius' living room. Harry had long since gone to bed and Regulus had retired as well (though Remus was certain it was because Sirius had told him to make himself scarce). Remus didn't bother looking at the actual time, telling himself he'd leave once the living room was no longer warm and he no longer wanted to be there with Sirius.
Trouble was, even with the fire dwindling, it was still warm.
Trouble was, he always wanted to be with Sirius, especially when the being with involved his hands under Sirius' sweatshirt, and Sirius' head on his chest. Especially when they never ran out of things to talk about and Remus never got bored. He never got the feeling in his veins, the sinking nervous feeling he got when there were pauses in conversation because Sirius usually filled them, and even if he didn't it was comfortable.
Sirius' arms around his waist were comfortable too. Sirius' couch was comfortable.
"I should go..." Remus willed himself to say. Sirius picked his head up so his chin was on Remus' chest and he could look at him.
"You don't have to."
"It's late, I'm sure."
"Tomorrow's Saturday," Sirius said, "Do you need to be up?"
"That's...not what I meant."
"I know."
"I should go."
"You don't have to."
"I...should," he finished around a yawn but still hadn't made to move out from underneath Sirius, or get up from the couch.
"I have a guest room. Two even."
Oh, but I don't want to sleep in the guest room. I'd fall asleep right here with you.
"It's...don't you have rules with Harry?"
"It'd be fine. He's asleep, he'll be asleep tomorrow morning. And you're half asleep and going to have to drive an hour in the snow. You don't have to go if you don't want to."
Remus ran a hand over Sirius' hair, though there were no curls that needed to be brushed out of his face. They hadn't even kissed yet and here Remus was thinking he'd very much like to sleep in bed next to this obscenely gorgeous man.
Wrapped up in you. Caught up in you.
"Fine," Remus said and Sirius smiled up at him.
"Do you want a guest room? One shares a bathroom with Harry, one does not." "I've slept on couches before."
"I also have a California King."
Fuck
"Is your room just a big bed?"
"I can show you if you'd like." Sirius began sitting up, taking Remus with him due to the position of his hands on Sirius' back. Remus braced himself for the cold air that would hit his knuckles as he removed them, instantly wishing he had kept them there. Instantly wishing he was brave enough to say take me to your bedroom and let me look at you until I fall asleep .
"I won't twist your arm about it," Sirius told him, "Whatever you want, I think it's...safer if you stay here. And...my bed is very big and I have sheets with a very high thread count."
"We haven't kissed yet."
"It's just sleeping. I also have--"
"If you tell me you have a guest room one more time, I'm going to make you sleep in there while I get your bed."
Sirius laughed, pulling Remus closer by his hands, faint yellow sparks reflected in grey orbs, "Whatever you want."
"Show me your fucking bedroom."
And Sirius did, leading Remus down a hallway on the first floor to the bedroom he had walked by when he had gotten a house tour two weeks ago. It was uncomplicated. It was effortless. It was easy to ignore his phone and ignore the e-mails on his computer when there was a house an hour away from his own that was toppling over with love and light. He didn't appreciate it at the time, but Sirius' home felt familiar to how his parent's house felt growing up.
Far less money--there were no fancy cars in the drive, and no one answered the phone in another language and excused themselves to discuss net promoter scores and driving factors . But there was music that was played in the living room, and constant laughter, even when Remus pretended his parents weren't funny and were more content to give them eye rolls. He thought he was so much better than Paradise.
Even when Remus pretended he could do no worse than being trapped in this tiny town when his dreams felt so much bigger than the parameters of the Upper Peninsula. His mother was always his biggest fan; his father had built him a desk so he could have a space to write to his heart's content, and even then Remus was disgruntled and ungrateful.
There's a sort of grief that comes from not getting the chance to say thank you and I'm sorry I was such a pain in the ass and I didn't realize that size and space don't make a home . Because Remus...had also had the more--the more of a big city and a boy who moved with a sense of urgency, and it wasn't at all what thought it would be. Now he was here with Sirius, in a bedroom with a closed door and curtains that were flung open towards the stars and the moons, shadows across the most handsome face Remus had ever seen and... that was the more he was missing.
Another book waiting to be sent on his laptop that would have the crowds screaming his name once again and another night with a man who looked at him like he was the entire universe.
"Nothing has to happen, you know," Sirius said evenly, his hands on Remus' waist, the two of them still just looking. Remus wondered when he could put that on his resume as a special skill he had done it so much over the past five months. "In fact...I usually don't make it a habit of having sex when my kid is home so."
"So you haven't had sex in...how many years?"
"Funny," Sirius grinned, "If you must know...I usually take trips. I'll go to another state to avoid crossing the street with my ex-lovers."
"But...me sleeping in your bedroom is okay." "Yeah."
"How?"
"Well...my lovers in other states never met Harry," Sirius' hands went to the hem of Remus' sweater and Remus had a millisecond the think about whether or not he was going to let Sirius take it off or if he was going to excuse himself to change in the bathroom like all the sleepovers he had growing up.
"Stop saying, lovers."
"I don't know what else to call them."
"Literally anything but, you sound like a crappy romance novel," Remus said, his eyes scanning the curve of Sirius' mouth as the other man pulled upwards on the sweater and Remus let him, patterned forest green falling onto soft beige carpet that looked grey in the lighting. The shade of Sirius' eyes. Remus expected Sirius to take off his pants next, already coming up with an argument as to why he was going to handle that himself even though Sirius had been perfectly clear that nothing was going to happen, but he didn't. Sirius took off his own sweatshirt, Remus biting back a moan at the tight white thermal underneath that pulled across back muscles.
Was it unfair to ask him to stand naked in the room if Remus wasn't willing to do the same?
Was it unfair to ask someone to put their heart in your hands if you weren't going to extend yours with the same care?
Sirius rummaged through a dresser, pulling out a worn sweatshirt with a faded university crest on it, tossing it in Remus' direction.
How embarrassing would it be if I smelled this and told you I'd keep it safe?
Remus felt his entire body flush when Sirius removed his thermal as if Remus wasn't in the room at all; as if it was a private show and he was catering to how much Remus liked to look. Tattoos covered his shoulder blades, and down his spine, words creeping onto his ribcage, absent numbers on the back of his biceps that Remus hadn't been able to see properly because of the weather.
Fuck the winter. Damn it straight to hell .
"These are going to be big on you," Sirius started, walking towards Remus again with black sweatpants in his hand, "But it's better than freezing."
"Mhmm." "Alright?" "Shut up."
"I've hardly said a thing," Sirius responded, his bare torso now inches from Remus' face and Remus didn't hesitate to look down. He dropped the clothes in his hands, opting to run fingers along tattoos. The Greeks got a lot of things right about their artwork--hell, they seem to have gotten a lot right about Sirius as well-- but Remus couldn't help but imagine what Alexander the Great would've looked like with black ink on his sternum. Sirius' own hands found Remus' waist against, sending warmth and a shiver up Remus' spine at the same time. "See something you like?"
" Shut up." Remus said, his neck flushing, but he didn't stop his hand from wandering, landing on a word in script that he couldn't understand. He looked up again at Sirius, "I'm not a lover ."
"Not yet anyway." Sirius said, and brought his other hand up to cup Remus' face, "I meant it when I said we can just sleep. It's...just a bedroom, just a bed...just sweatpants and...body heat."
"I can't...explain...it."
"Poetic."
"I never claimed to be a poet, they're mostly liars." Remus told him, bending down to pick up the sweatshirt he had dropped, "And...I think I'm mostly just afraid that the second I kiss you, there's no going back...and the last time I did that, it didn't end well."
It's the things you can't see coming that are strong enough to kill you . "I disagree."
"You think my divorce was good?"
"It got you here."
Remus looked down, biting on his lip, "You...are something else, Sirius Black."
"I've heard that once or twice before," he returned, giving Remus a smile and his sides a squeeze before stepping away, to go towards the door where the bathroom connected, flipping on the light.
Remus didn't know until that night intimacy could be found in unlikely places. In teeth brushing.
Face washing.
Unmaking a bed that was really far too big for one person.
A single finger that ran along the scar on Remus' face, the other hand sitting just so on Remus' waist.
A sweatpant-clad leg thrown over Remus' hips.
Whispered words.
"I hope that wasn't insensitive of me to say," Sirius said against his ear.
"Hm?"
"Your divorce sounds awful...but I am glad for it."
"A year ago I would've called you insane," Remus responded, hand running down Sirius' thigh that was over his hips, "Now I think you might be right."
One pillow for two heads. --
Bzzzz.
Bzzzz.
Remus woke up the next morning in the same place he had fallen asleep, eyes blurry from sleep and poor eyesight, Sirius still on top of him. Remus wondered how someone so big could make themselves weightless.
"'S that mine or yours?" Sirius mumbled against his ear and Remus desperately wanted to ignore the vibrating. He just wanted a sleepy voice and body heat until his back started hurting.
"Mine, I think," Remus reached an arm over to the night table, grabbing the vibrating phone and clearing his throat before answering, "Hello?"
"I booked a flight into Marquette airport. I'll be there in a few hours," Dorcas said, not wasting any time, "Can you pick me up or should I rent a car?"
"You what?"
"Enough is enough, Remus. I know you have those pages written and the deadline was yesterday. I managed to cover our asses by saying you were having WiFi issues but, I'm done. I'm coming to see what the hold-up is...help you fix your door or whatever. I love you and we have to make a plan for this. I don't want to be one of those agents who does things without the author's permission and if your priorities have changed, that's fine too but in either case, I'm on my way and I need to leave with those pages. I'll text you my flight information." With a click, Dorcas hung up and Remus put the phone back down on the nightstand.
Remus took a breath, moving slightly beneath Sirius' weight, and Sirius caught the hint, unwrapping himself from Remus' body.
Don't go.
"Everything okay?" Sirius asked, his voice a little less garbled than before, but just as raw. Sirius' face was the only thing close enough that Remus could make out, the background just blobs of color and morning light. But he could see Sirius. He could see the dark stubble and the shades of grey in his eyes. He could see the freckle above his upper lip and the tattoo behind his ear.
Remus put his hand on the side of Sirius' face tenderly, and then leaned in, kissing him on the cheek softly, "I have to go."
