The lab
Chapter 1: The New Intern
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
„And this here is our cafeteria. Employees get a discount, so just show your ID card when paying."
Sirius peers through the glass wall separating the spacious dining hall from the hallway. It's empty now, there isn't even anyone at the till. It's too early for lunch yet.
"Err… great, thanks," he says awkwardly, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag and looking at the HR expectantly.
Ms Evans brushes her red fringe away from her forehead and looks down at her wristwatch. She tuts and turns around quickly, stalking further down the hallway in brisk steps, her heels clicking rhythmically on the stone floor. Sirius scrambles to follow her, feeling nervous and sweaty.
"The lab is through here," she says, stopping at a heavy metal door and typing something into a number pad on the wall. It blinks green and peeps. "The code is 21366."
21366. Sirius repeats the combination in his head and wishes he had time to write it down, but Ms Evans is already storming forward through the door. That hallway looks astoundingly different to the one they came from – the light is brighter here, floors and walls white. There are many metal doors with windows and different warning signs on either side and Sirius can see people in white coats inside. Every space of wall that isn't a door is covered in large, framed posters with diagrams and blocks of text.
The hallway leads to a reasonably large opening with a couple of tables and chairs. To the right is an open door leading to a small kitchenette where some people are standing around the coffee machine. Ms Evans walks up to them and knocks on the open door to get their attention.
"Lily!" one man with large wireframed glasses and a mop of unruly black hair exclaims, grinning widely. "How nice of you to visit me!"
Sirius can't see the expression of Ms Evans from behind, but the way she raises her chin and clutches her clipboard says it all.
"Mr Potter," she says coolly. "Fortunately, I am not here for a private visit. This is our new intern, Sirius Black."
She motions in Sirius' general direction and the guy peers around her, smiling in a friendly way. Sirius gives him a little wave. "Hello, nice to meet you."
Mr Potter nods, then turns back to Ms Evans. "Is he starting with the High Throughput group?"
High Through… what? Sirius shuffles uncomfortably from one foot to the other, already feeling very out of his depth.
"Mr Black will be joining the Cell Expansion project for the duration of his internship," Ms Evans says in a clipped tone.
The other guys in the kitchen murmur and chuckle. Mr Potter raises his eyebrows and smiles. "Ah, Remus will be positively delighted ."
From his tone and the reaction of the others, it doesn't sound like it would actually be the case. Sirius gulps.
"I'm sure he will be," Ms Evans retorts sternly. "I'll leave Mr Black to you, then."
No, Sirius wants to plead, don't leave me here! But Ms Evans turns on her heels, gives Sirius a strained smile and with some last encouragements to call her whenever he feels like he needs help, she is gone.
"And there she goes…" one of the men, dark skin and earring in his left ear, says mockingly. "Never to be seen again until the next poor soul gets sent into this hellfire."
They all laugh, and Sirius feels like he might just faint. Mr Potter laughs again and winks at him. "He does look a little green around the edges," he muses. "Call me James."
He steps forward and shakes Sirius' clammy hand. The other two men introduce themselves as Kingsley and Peter. Remus, the one Sirius will apparently work with, is not present.
"Coffee?" James suggests and shoos the other two out with a smile, poking at the coffee machine already before getting Sirius' affirmation. "How long are you staying?"
"Three months," Sirius says. "At least. Maybe more, depending on how it goes."
James chuckles. "Three months is nothing," he says dismissively over the loud rumble of the coffee machine. "You'll be fine. Writing your thesis here?"
Sirius laughs nervously. "What? No, not yet." Then adds, "I'm only two semesters in. I have to do an internship for uni."
James raises his eyebrows and bows down to open a mini-fridge, muttering something like 'poor bloke' under his breath. "Milk?"
"Yes, thank you," Sirius answers. "Is it bad? I mean, they suggest we do an internship during our third semester. I thought it was pretty normal."
"Ever worked in a lab before?" James asks instead and hands him his cup.
"No," Sirius admits.
James' brows raise comically. "Not even in one of your classes?"
Sirius shrugs uncomfortably. "We had some lab hours in Microbiology."
"Ah," James smiles a little wistfully. "Pouring agar plates and drawing some bacteria, then?"
Sirius nods. "And Gram staining," he adds as if it's going to convince James of his competence.
"Well," James concludes, "don't worry, you'll get there. Remus is good at what he does. The best, really. You'll learn plenty."
They drink their coffee chatting some more. James tells him he's one of three lab technicians here on the ground floor and gives him a run-down of all the labs they have. Sirius tells him a bit more about his studies and feels a little more at ease because James seems to be genuinely nice if a little lofty.
"Remus is in the cell culture lab," he says when they have finished and points to one of the doors. "He'll tell you everything you need to know. If you have any additional questions, my office is through there." He points down another hallway.
Sirius nods and smiles gratefully. Maybe this won't be such a disaster after all.
"Just pick a coat from the rack, one without a name on it," James advises. "I'll make sure to order you one of your own until tomorrow."
So, this is what Sirius does, before pulling it on and buttoning up. It's a little tight around the shoulders and entirely too long for him, but it will make do. He braces himself for a moment before pushing the lab door open and stepping inside.
The room looks deserted. There is a sink at the entrance with a stack of cardboard boxes full of different gloves in bright blue and green colours. Along the other wall are three big cabinets with heavy doors and blinking displays. In the middle, dividing the lab into two sections, are four large refrigerators with tattered-looking papers stuck to them.
There is no one in sight, but a quiet, steady hum sounds from behind the refrigerators, so Sirius walks over there hesitantly. It's nothing he has ever seen before – two big desks, side by side, with glass screens over them, take up all the wall space. In front of one of the desks sits a man on a low stool, arms reaching under the glass screen.
Sirius can't see his face, but he has curly, light-brown hair and broad shoulders. He isn't wearing a lab coat, only black jeans and a knitted brown jumper with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows.
"Pass me the PBS."
Sirius jumps and looks around, but there is no one else there except for him, so the man must be talking to him after all. He hasn't even turned around to greet him, didn't even twitch at his presence.
"Um… What?" Sirius asks in a small voice.
The man huffs and rears back from the desk on his stool, dragging the wheels over the floor, and grabs a large bottle with a blue plastic cap from a small table to the side. He leans over a large plastic bin and picks up a spray bottle, coating what must be PBS generously in the liquid, before placing it quickly under the glass screen of his desk, and then spraying his gloved hands from the same bottle. The stinging smell of alcohol bites Sirius' nose.
Sirius stalks closer to see better. On the metal surface of the desk is a bright-red rack with an array of plastic tubes inside it, a large plastic petri dish, a weird, wired contraption with a clear plastic bag inside, a metal tube that looks like a pen case and in the corner is a stack of plastic boxes.
He watches the man dart out one hand to a trolley beside him, picking up something long and encased in plastic foil. With his other hand, he holds something that looks like a toy gun. In a swift motion, he rips open the foil just under the glass screen and sticks the freed pipette inside the gun, crumbling up the plastic and carelessly tossing it to the ground.
"And who are you?" the man asks somewhat rudely, dipping the pipette inside the bottle of PBS and pressing a button on the gun.
Sirius startles. "Erm… I'm Sirius. Sirius Black. The intern?"
It comes out like a question instead of a statement, but the man does not comment on it, busy transferring the clear liquid inside the petri dish and discarding the used pipette inside another plastic bin.
"Do you know how to work sterile?" he asks in a business-like manner.
"No," Sirius admits, feeling like everything is a bit too much again. Never has he felt so stupid in his life.
The man sighs. "Don't they teach you anything?" he mutters under his breath.
Sirius feels himself getting angry because he just arrived, has no idea what he's doing, and the guy didn't even say hello. "Aren't you supposed to teach me?" he blurts out without thinking and regrets it immediately.
The shoulders of the man tense up minutely, he stops swivelling the liquid inside the petri dish, and Sirius bites his tongue. He's ready for a blow-up, or at least a stern taking down, but the man sets the dish down and nudges a second stool out from under the desk with his foot.
"Sit down," he says calmly. "I hate it when people hover over my shoulder."
Sirius plops down on the stool, relieved, and shuffles closer to have a better look. The man picks up something that looks like a thick pen with a hose attached to one end and opens the metal tube with one hand, picking out a small glass pipette and sticking it inside the pen.
"Are you Remus?" Sirius asks timidly, still a little ashamed of his outburst.
The man nods. From this angle Sirius can see his profile – he looks young, not much older than Sirius himself. His skin is very pale in the bright fluorescent light, lips pressed together in a firm line. So, this is his supervisor.
Remus proceeds to suck out the liquid from the dish with the pipette, tilting it a little, and then promptly throws the pipette in a small yellow bin. It clings loudly against the other glass already inside it in the silence of the lab.
"Pass me the 10-millilitre pipette," he demands, nodding at the trolley Sirius is now blocking.
Sirius fumbles with the different plastic-wrapped pipettes before finding the right stack and hands it to Remus. He uses it to transfer another clear liquid inside the dish from a tube with an orange cap that is sitting inside the rack, swivels it around again and then gets up in a fluid motion, walking away with the closed petri dish in hand.
Not knowing what else to do, Sirius follows him like a lost puppy. Thankfully, Remus doesn't wander far – he stops at one of the cabinets at the entrance, opening the heavy door and then another glass one, setting the dish inside and closing it again.
Then, for the first time, he looks at Sirius. Away from the bright light, he doesn't look as young anymore – there are lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. His eyes look bright though, a light green colour, almost grey. He's tall, Sirius notices, significantly taller than him.
"What are you wearing?" he asks incredulously, ripping Sirius out of his thoughts.
Sirius looks down on himself and then at Remus again. "A… lab coat?"
"From the rack in the hallway?" he asks disdainfully and shakes his head. "Do you want to contaminate my cultures with their nasty bacteria and yeast? Take it off."
"James said I should put one on," Sirius says hesitantly.
Suddenly, Remus' expression changes and he huffs a small laugh. "James is messing with me," he says. "Put it where you found it."
Sirius nods and hurries out of the lab. When he comes back again, Remus is standing where he was, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't leave the doors open," he says, annoyed. "There are air filters here for a reason."
Feeling his cheeks heat up, Sirius closes the door to the lab quickly and turns back to Remus.
"Okay, rule number one," Remus says and points at the sink. "You come in my lab, you wash your hands, disinfect them and put on gloves."
A small timer on the cabinet pings and Remus picks up his petri dish, walking back to the workstation. By the time Sirius is finished washing his hands, Remus is sitting in front of a large microscope. When he hears him, he stands up from the stool and motions for Sirius to take a look.
It takes him a bit of fumbling to get the right settings and he can only see something when he squints one eye shut. When the picture is clear though, he just sees a flock of dark dots swimming in the liquid.
"What is that?" he asks, looking up at Remus.
"MSCs," he says absentmindedly and then adds, "mesenchymal stromal cells. From bone marrow."
Sirius looks at the cells again. They don't look very exciting.
"You mean human cells?" he asks a little panicked.
Remus raises his eyebrows at him and sprays his hands from the spray bottle, before picking up the dish and placing it on his desk again. "Of course. From femoral heads."
"What, like the hip joint?"
"When people get hip replacement surgery," Remus explains, setting to work on the cells again, "they can donate their femoral heads for science. I extract the bone marrow and use the cells for research."
"Cool," Sirius breathes and looks at Remus' steadily working hands again.
"Yeah, right?" Remus suddenly says with a little more emotion than before. There is even a quick smile on his lips before they return to their former stern line.
Sirius feels a bit too excited about eliciting some emotion from Remus, even if it's short-lived. The guy clearly takes his work seriously and James said he was really good at what he did. Sirius has no idea if that is true, there is no reference to base his opinion on, but the way Remus' hands work in a steady rhythm, the way he talks about 'my cultures' and 'my lab' speaks for itself. He feels a mix of shame for being so dumb, guilt for adding to Remus' workload and anticipation of learning so much more than stuffy university lectures could provide.
"Your hair is too long," Remus says without looking. He is transferring the cells into a tube with something pink in it.
Sirius blanks for a second, before running a hand through his shoulder-length hair, the rubbery gloves tugging unpleasantly at the strands. He didn't think about that at all beforehand.
"Should… should I cut it?" he asks and swallows. That would be a real shame.
Fortunately, Remus gives him a long side-along glance and says, "No. Rule number two is if your hair is long enough to be put up, it's too long to keep it down."
"Got it," Sirius says, making a mental note to bring some hair ties tomorrow.
Remus doesn't acknowledge him at all and gets up, tube in hand, walking over to the other wall where a long bench with lab equipment is. Sirius trots behind him.
"The centrifuge is a little tricky here," he says in a strained voice, pressing a button on a machine and leaning heavily against the lid with his other hand. It lifts with a click, revealing a circular opening with racks for tubes. Remus pops his cells in one. "Make sure to tare it correctly, or else it will damage the machine."
He leans over the many tubes standing beside it and picks up one with a big black '20' written on the cap. It goes in the rack opposite to his cells.
"So, I just pick one with the same amount in it and let them run together?"
Remus doesn't answer, which Sirius takes as affirmation. He closes the lid and starts pressing buttons on the control panel. "There are other inserts for smaller tubes if you need them," he says instead and knocks his knee against a drawer of the bench where, presumably, the inserts are stored.
"Rule number three," he continues after the centrifuge started giving off a continuous hum, "if you make a mess, you clean it up."
"Obviously," Sirius says and frowns. Does he think Sirius couldn't even clean up after himself?
"Not for everyone in this lab," Remus says evenly. "Sometimes you spill something inside the centrifuge, especially if you don't screw the cap on correctly. Look inside when taking your sample out, to make sure it's still clean. I don't want anything growing in there."
Sirius nods. He expects Remus to go back to his workstation, but he just leans against the counter with his hip and crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking somewhere slightly above Sirius' forehead.
"Rule number four, if anything touched a culture, you don't throw it in the normal bin," he continues. "Also, don't just pour anything alive down the drain. It must be autoclaved first before it goes in the waste." He nods to a white bin in the corner. Sirius remembers seeing a couple of them all throughout the lab. "Gloves, tubes, dishes, pipettes, paper towels and everything else that might have cells on it, goes in there. I'll show you later where we bring it when it's full."
"Okay," Sirius says just to have something to say. He already feels greatly overwhelmed and pictures himself fucking up the waste system royally.
"Glass goes into another bin," he points in the general direction of his workstation. "Safety hazard."
The hum of the centrifuge slowly goes quieter, and Remus turns his back to him, retrieving the sample. Then, surprisingly, he steps around Sirius and holds the tube up against the light in front of his face. He bends down to watch from Sirius' angle over his shoulder and Sirius feels the soft press of his chest against one shoulder blade, smells the faint smell of his shampoo. The urge to lean back just a little more is overwhelming, and Sirius almost jumps when Remus' voice is suddenly louder than expected next to his ear.
"See, this white stuff at the bottom." He tilts the tube a little and there really is an almost unnoticeable white clump in the narrowest part of the tube. "This is the cell pellet."
And then, just as quickly as it came, the moment is over and Remus is already back in his low stool, spraying his hands and the tube with sanitiser. Sirius closes his eyes and takes a quick breath, willing the lingering sensation of somebody else's body heat to go away. This is highly inappropriate, and he doesn't even know where this came from.
"This is 80% ethanol," he explains. "Try not to inhale it and make sure it doesn't get in contact with the cells or else they won't be happy with you."
The way Remus speaks about his cells as if they are sentient is endearing. Sirius can picture him vividly, sitting in this small lab alone all day, every day, caring for something he can only see as specks through the microscope. He must feel at least a little lonely.
"Also," he continues, oblivious to Sirius' musings, "try to only spray over the bin. It ruins the flooring over time."
Sirius watches Remus again, his fluid motions, how he tilts his head to the side while working, the sharp line of his lips. It feels hypnotic in a way, like watching water flow or fire burn. He imagines doing it himself and can't help the well of anxiety rising – it looks like a lot of steps, careful measurements, important safety precautions. Remus doesn't look anything up, he just does it like he has done it hundreds of times already. Which he probably did.
"What is it that you are doing?" Sirius hears himself asking. He's been wondering all this time, but somehow missed the opportunity to ask at the beginning and it seemed more and more embarrassing the longer he's been watching. Maybe he should know this already. Remus will probably laugh at his stupidity.
"I'm splitting cells," he answers and there is no ridicule in his voice. "They grow in a monolayer, attached to the surface of the dish. When there are enough cells, they need more space to multiply. So, I harvest them and split them into multiple batches. One to three as a general rule, but it depends on how many cells you have. It has to be at least 500.000 per 15 cm dish."
With that, he picks up a small box from the table where the microscope stands and opens it, taking out two glass plates – one bigger of thicker glass with weird grooves that look like a capital 'H' and one small made of thin glass. A counting chamber, Sirius remembers, they have been using those in Microbiology last semester.
Remus assembles it quickly and places a drop of his cell mixture inside. "Count the cells," he orders, handing it to him.
What? He should do it? Alone? Before Sirius can ask anything, Remus is already back under the glass screen, completely unphased by his mini-crisis.
It's not as difficult in the end and he does just fine. He even finds a curious contraption that looks like a mix of a bike bell and stopwatch that keeps count for you if you press the button for each cell. Remus would probably be about ten times quicker at it, but he doesn't say anything about tardiness, so it must still be acceptable. "It's 232," Sirius tells him, a little unsure.
Remus seems content, at least the furrow between his brows seems to lessen somewhat. "So, it's fifty-eight per corner quadrant. Multiplied by ten thousand it's 580.000 per millilitre. In a dilution of one to five, it's almost three million cells in total."
Sirius is a little overwhelmed by his quick math but too embarrassed to admit it. He definitely should read up on cell counting in case Remus asks him to calculate it next time. Once again, he feels like a giant imposter. Why did he think this was a good idea again?
"That's good?" Sirius asks, unsure.
Remus shrugs noncommittally. "It's not bad," he says, and this is probably as enthusiastic as he can get.
Sirius steps out of the elevator and rummages in his pockets for the key. He finds it, after some struggling, at the very bottom of his bag, but when he tries to open the door, the key turns all the way through. He tries again, but the door still doesn't open.
He sighs and presses the buzzer. This is supremely annoying – he's tired and still, a little overwhelmed from the day he's had at his new internship, and he just wants to shower and relax.
When Remus was done with his cells, he showed Sirius around the other labs and explained some more safety measures – where the safety showers are, how to operate the eyewash, where the waste is collected, and other small details Sirius felt like he probably should have written down somewhere but was too embarrassed to do.
Then he showed Sirius the office he was sharing with three other people in the lab, all of them also working on their PhDs. One of them (Sirius already forgot her name) is on maternity leave and he can use her desk when he's not in the lab – right across from Remus. He took Sirius' contacts and sent him a daunting number of protocols, papers, and instructions to work through.
Despite their rocky start, Remus turned out to be very helpful. He was still gruff and clipped in the way he spoke, but he answered all of Sirius' questions, no matter how stupid, without making him feel dumb for asking. He was still a little cold and reserved, but sometimes Sirius could sense a trace of humour in his voice when he talked about some colleagues or stories from the lab. At one point they passed James who was busy changing out a big gas tank in one of the bacteria labs. He looked at them, a little surprised, from over his glasses, and then gave Sirius a blinding smile and a thumbs-up from behind Remus' back, which made Sirius feel weirdly proud of himself.
It was early afternoon when Remus said Sirius might as well go home because he would spend the rest of the day writing his dissertation and there was nothing for Sirius to do for now. Well, he phrased it more like 'I don't have any more time for hand-holding today' and 'I don't care what you do now, so you can get lost', but Sirius thinks the corner of his mouth might have quirked up a little when he said his goodbyes.
The lock turns and the door opens abruptly after about five minutes of Sirius standing stranded in the hall.
"I was busy, you know?" an annoyed voice says from inside the flat.
Sirius smiles nervously. "Sorry, I think you left your key in the lock. I couldn't open the door."
Fabian murmurs something unintelligible under his breath and moves away from the door, disappearing around the corner. Sirius closes the door behind himself and toes off his shoes, relieved. He probably should wear something more comfortable tomorrow – he didn't expect there would be so much standing and walking involved in working in a lab.
When Sirius walks into the sitting room, Fabian is carelessly scrolling through Netflix on the big flatscreen, still in his scrubs.
"How was your shift?"
"Amazing," Fabian says sarcastically without looking up. "Four guys were brought in at around three from a motorcycle accident, one of them died even before we could do anything and the other three were keeping me up all night. They are stable now, but I don't know if this will last."
"I'm sorry you had a shit night," Sirius says empathetically.
Fabian doesn't answer and settles on a random episode of Top Gear. Sirius sighs, knowing it is useless to try and have a conversation when he is like this. He should probably take a shower and look through the materials Remus sent him.
The hot spray eases the tension inside of him. He thinks about the day he's had, all the small embarrassing things he did or said and has to forcefully shove them all out of his mind. Remus didn't turn him around right away when he understood that Sirius had no experience whatsoever, so it wasn't that bad.
He thinks about Remus again. His tall frame, wide shoulders, quick and sure hands. How smooth he moved, the way his curls fell over his forehead. How close he stood behind him, showing him the sample. How their fingers brushed once when he held the door of a lab open for him. The sound of his deep voice.
"No, no, no," Sirius murmurs and shakes his head, wet hair clinging to his cheeks and neck. "Stop it."
It's entirely uncalled for, to think this way about your supervisor. There was no sign he felt anything but annoyance regarding Sirius. He definitely isn't gay. Sirius is in a relationship. Bad, bad, very bad idea. Best to forget all about it before it starts developing into something.
There is nothing to develop from, really. Remus is just so very smart, so competent, a bit mysterious. He's older, but not by much, and in a position of power. Sirius always had weird infatuations with people superior to him, it doesn't mean anything. This is just professional respect, nothing more.
By the time he towels himself off, he almost convinced himself that he was just being silly and overwhelmed by his first day at work.
When Sirius walks into the bedroom, Fabian is standing in front of the wardrobe with a phone to his ear. Sirius' phone.
"Yes, he's here now," Fabian says and glares at Sirius, handing it over to him.
"Hello?"
"Sirius," sounds Remus' slightly distorted voice out of the speaker, "it's Remus."
"Oh, hi," Sirius says, surprised, and walks out of the room hurriedly, still followed by Fabian's piercing eyes. "Erm… Sorry, I was in the shower."
"Don't worry," Remus says in a grave tone and Sirius worries. "I had a… nice chat with your boyfriend."
Oh, God. Sirius looks uselessly over his shoulder into the empty hallway. That's not how he wanted to come out to his new colleagues. Not how he wanted to come out to Remus. Did Fabian say something nasty to him? Or is… could Remus be homophobic? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Oh. Hm."
"We have a donor tomorrow," Remus says, unbothered. "I need you to pick it up at the hospital around eight and bring it here."
Sirius instantly feels overwhelmed. He should pick it up? But how? What does he say?
"St. Mungo's?" he asks, looking over his shoulder again where Fabian is still in the bedroom, hidden by a wall.
"No, St. Georg's," Remus says, and Sirius suppresses a relieved sigh. He doesn't know why, but the idea of going to Fabian's hospital gives him anxiety. "I'll text you the directions."
"O… okay," Sirius presses out and runs a hand through his damp hair.
"They know you will be coming," Remus says and maybe it's the phone, but Sirius imagines he sounds as if he's smiling. "I'll be here when you arrive."
"Alright," Sirius says and sighs. "See you tomorrow, then."
"Yes," Remus says and hangs up.
Sirius stares at the screen of his phone, dazed until a text from an unknown number pops up. It's a detailed description of which entrance to go through, which staircase to go up and which door to ring. It doesn't sound all that complicated, and Sirius feel a little reassured. He can do this. Worst case, he could ring Remus now that he has his number.
"And who the hell was that?"
Fabian stands in the doorframe, arms crossed, and levels Sirius with an unimpressed look. He changed out of his scrubs now and into a white shirt and fitted jeans. He looks impossibly handsome.
"Remus Lupin," Sirius says and pockets his phone. "He's my supervisor at the internship."
Fabian quirks a perfect, red eyebrow. "Right," he drawls. "And why does your supervisor call you after you're off?"
Sirius shrugs, uncomfortable. "He needs me to pick something up tomorrow before work, that's all. And he let me go early today, I guess he's still at work now."
"Are you his courier or what?" Fabian sneers. Sirius can feel the disdain in his voice, and it makes him feel small and useless. Suddenly, he feels weirdly protective of Remus.
"I'm his unpaid intern," Sirius says and tries to smile, hoping it looks more genuine than it feels. "Brewing coffee and running errands, I guess that's the cliché?"
Fabian huffs condescendingly and turns to leave, dropping over his shoulder, "Not good for much else, are you?"
Sirius' cheeks burn as if slapped.
Notes:
If you can't really visualize what Remus is doing in the lab, I will leave a link to a short video here so that you can maybe have a better understanding what cell culture work could look like: https/youtu.be/CMRKKl9XSDU
Chapter 2: Part Of The Crew
Chapter Text
The box lands on one of the tables in front of the lab kitchen with a quiet thump and Sirius sits down in front of it, wiping his damp forehead. He had to take three different busses to get from the hospital to the lab and it took him almost an hour.
He found the pick-up location just fine with Remus' careful instructions. The nurse was a little surprised to see him instead of Remus, but when he showed her his ID, she brought out the box with the femoral heads without complaint.
"There you are."
Sirius looks up to see Remus walking out of his office with a white lab coat slung over his arm. He's wearing a different jumper today – forest green with white patterns at the cuffs. It brings out his eyes wonderfully and Sirius wants to kick himself for thinking things like this again. He shouldn't care about his supervisor's outfit, or how nice his eyes are, or how open his face looks without the constant frown.
"Sorry, the busses were a nightmare," Sirius says apologetically.
Remus ignores him and peeks inside the plastic bag with the samples on the table. "Are you ready? The isolation takes a while, so we best start now."
Sirius inwardly preens at the use of the word 'we' and nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, sure, let's do it."
Remus gives him an unidentifiable look and hands over the lab coat. "Here, this is yours," he says. "I don't usually wear one, except for isolations. It gets messy."
Sirius takes the coat carefully and unfolds it. There, right on the left chest pocket, is his name in red stitching. Sirius O. Black . He stares at it, lost for words. Somehow, it feels like a confirmation of sorts, like he passed some sort of test and is now accepted as part of the crew. He feels unnecessarily moved by that small detail.
"Get a move on, Black!" Remus says loudly, already striding through the lab door, and even though Sirius can't see his face, he hears his smile.
The isolation is more than messy, it's borderline gory. Remus makes him wear two pairs of gloves, one going all the way up to his elbows. He shows him the press, tucked away in a corner, and how to operate it in order to crack the bones.
"That's some ASMR right here," Remus says with a faint smile, tilting his head towards the press to hear the quiet cracking of bones better.
"You're weird," Sirius says with a laugh. And instantly regrets it, because he doesn't mean it in an offensive way. Remus is just nerdy about the most random stuff and it's cute.
"You'll learn to appreciate the small pleasures of this hellhole," Remus says, not offended in the slightest, and Sirius is momentarily stunned. Because Remus made two jokes, not even a minute apart, and he's smiling and generally seems way more relaxed and happier than yesterday.
He shows Sirius how to operate the clean bench – the desk with the glass screen he was working at yesterday. How to turn it on and off correctly, how to see if the airflow is stable, how to sterilize it before starting to work.
They work together at one bench, Sirius copying everything Remus does. After a bit, his arms grow very tired from hovering under the screen and he places his elbows on the edge of the bench, to which Remus tuts and reprimands him because he's blocking the airflow if he perches over the small holes of the vent.
The bones are bloody and porous, it gets everywhere, and Remus places a sanitiser-soaked paper towel under his dish to minimize the mess. They flush out the cells of the bone marrow and strain the blood into tubes to filter out any bone shards. They centrifuge them, then layer the cells with some chemicals to split the different cell types.
"This will take about an hour," Remus announces, closing the centrifuge lid and Sirius exhales tiredly.
His shoulders hurt, his eyes are strained, and he feels completely exhausted. And it's not even lunchtime yet. Remus, on the other hand, looks as composed and unphased as ever.
He eyes him with amusement and nods in the direction of the lab door. "Let's have a break, shall we?"
Sirius smiles gratefully and peels off the thick gloves. His hands are sweaty and wrinkled underneath, but he managed not to get any blood on his brand-new lab coat, which is a win in his books.
Remus takes him out through the security door and into the backyard. It's still a bit cold, even though the sun is shining brightly, and Sirius shivers, turning his face towards the warm beams. A lighter clicks and he opens one eye to see Remus holding out a pack of cigarettes towards him, his own hanging loosely from the corner of his mouth in a way that shouldn't be hot for something so deadly, but still is.
"No, thank you," Sirius says and shakes his head. "I quit a couple of years ago."
Fabian made him give it up when he moved in, even though he never said anything about it beforehand. But it's for the better, really. Smoking is bad for you, it makes you stink, it's expensive and repulsive.
Remus shrugs and takes a long drag, leaning against the wall of the building. "Good for you," he says neutrally. "I'd rather cut my hand off, to be honest."
Sirius turns to him, intrigued. This is the first time Remus talked about anything personal, not related to his work or the lab. He looks different, Sirius notices, outside of the cold neon lights. His hair shines in the sun, almost golden instead of brown, and he has freckles on his nose and cheeks. There is a thin scar running along the edge of his jaw Sirius hasn't noticed before. He wonders how he got it.
"Why is that?" he asks.
Remus looks at the burning fag in his hand, white smoke curling around his fingers, and flicks the ashes off. "Because I love it," he says simply. Sirius can't hide his smile, because 'love' is a very emotionally charged word for someone like Remus. He wonders if he has a girlfriend, or a partner, someone else who gets to hear this word come out of Remus' mouth and be on the receiving end of it.
"It's bad for you," Sirius says.
Remus just hums in agreement, unbothered, and takes another drag. This time, he lets the smoke out through his nostrils, looking like an angry dragon, and Sirius can't tear his eyes away.
"That's my weakness," he says then. "What's yours?"
You , Sirius wants to say. Right now, you are my weakness. It's horrible.
"What isn't?" he answers instead and surprises himself with the amount of bitterness in his voice.
Remus seems to pick it up too because he's looking at Sirius, and his eyes are assessing, lips pressed together. Right now, he looks at Sirius exactly the same way he looks at his cells. Sirius feels like he's observed under the microscope, and quickly looks away to avoid the intense eye contact.
"You will find out who you are not a thousand times before you ever discover who you are," Remus says finally. And there is something in his voice Sirius can't place. At Sirius' questioning glance, he just shrugs and stumps out his cigarette on the nearest bin. "William Chapman," he adds by a way of explaining. "Let's go inside, you're cold."
Sirius has to force his legs to move, trotting behind Remus' tall frame. Because Remus just casually quoted a poet, or a writer, or a song lyric. Because Sirius thinks, he was trying to tell him something encouraging. Because he noticed that Sirius was cold.
He can't remember the last time something like this happened to him. He wonders if it ever did, before.
That night, when Sirius gets home from the second day of his internship, he feels completely exhausted. After the isolation was done, Remus showed him the rest of the cultures he was working on and explained how to look after them correctly. To Sirius, it just felt like a lot of busywork, but he refrained from voicing his opinion.
After their short break, Remus went straight back to his professional self, not acknowledging the sliver of personal connection they had in that sunny backyard. Sirius doesn't know what to make of this, but for some reason, he wants to know more. Get to know him better. It scares him.
The flat is dark and empty, Fabian is at work – being important and saving lives. Sirius feels relieved and lonely in equal measure; a cocktail of emotions he got used to over the last years. Things started to change after they moved in together. It happened gradually, almost unnoticeable, and Sirius can't really put into words what exactly is different.
Because Fabian is still the same as he was four years ago when they met. He was fresh out of uni back then, starting his work at the hospital in the A . All big smiles, and gentle hands, and caring gestures. His work is very taxing, a lot of pressure – Sirius doesn't even begin to comprehend how he's coping with being a doctor in a busy hospital. Naturally, it starts weighing on you after a while, and Sirius certainly doesn't help with his awkward jokes and annoying need for reassurance and affection.
Sirius has become very good at noticing his partner's moods, leaving him alone when he needed it, and supporting him when he would allow it. They were working very well together, most of the time. Sure, sometimes emotions would run high, but that was just human nature, wasn't it? It wasn't like Fabian had something against him, Sirius was just there at the wrong moment. He knows how things like this go, has been exposed to that since he was little.
It was a completely different situation with his family, of course. Fabian was nothing like them. He was the one who offered help when Sirius was kicked out, he supported him with everything – housing, money, schooling – when no one else did. Sirius wouldn't be the person he is now without him – secure and healthy, with a beautiful boyfriend in a beautiful flat filled with beautiful things. He wanted to find a job at first, but Fabian convinced him that he didn't mind paying for everything, that he had a good salary and a job that didn't allow him much time to spend it anyway. That Sirius really should focus on his studies and not worry about anything else.
So, that's what Sirius did. It was hard, especially at first, because the imbalance in their relationship was very tangible, and sometimes Fabian would make an off-hand remark about it. They would fight, again, and Sirius would decide to finally put a stop to this and get a job, but ultimately Fabian would apologize profusely and promise, shamefaced, to never bring it up again, and everything would go back to normal.
Sirius knows, deep down, that his threats to leave or get a job were just that – threats. Because Sirius doesn't have a degree yet, no work experience, and he's generally not the type to be picked for anything above anyone else. His grades were mediocre, he was not exceptionally talented at anything, he wasn't the perfect son his parents wanted, and he wasn't the perfect boyfriend Fabian needed. How he was still putting up with Sirius is beyond his comprehension, so he tries not to dwell on it too much. What Fabian doesn't need is an added 'confidence' point to the list of things Sirius was already lacking in.
With a sigh, Sirius opens his laptop and scrolls through his emails. Remus sent him another batch of documents to work through. He looks up at the time – it's almost nine. Is Remus still at work?
He suppresses the outlandish idea to call him, just to hear his calm, reassuring voice and sets to reading. If he doesn't want to be a disappointment, he really should put in more effort.
By Friday of the next week, there is some kind of routine and Sirius doesn't feel like such an imposter typing in the security code at the entrance to the labs. Sirius usually comes in at around nine, opens the lab, prepares the waste bins, restocks things that have been used up, and looks at the cells through the microscope. Remus arrives at some point between nine-thirty and ten, clearly having rolled out of bed not long before, and inhales two cups of coffee in quick succession while Sirius gives him a rundown of the culture stats.
Remus listens closely, sometimes leafing through his notes to compare something, but gains the power of speech only halfway through his second coffee. Then he decides what needs to be done that day and they set to work.
Sometimes there are meetings he goes to. To some of them, he even takes Sirius with him, where he sits quietly and listens to people he doesn't know speaking about things he doesn't understand. Remus rarely contributes, mostly when asked directly or to clarify something.
Once he took Sirius to a meeting that wasn't actually a meeting at all and more of a seminar, where most of the lab crew and even some people from other departments gathered to hear Remus present his current state of research. It was amazing – the way his eyes lit up when talking about his work, the way he spoke so sure and confident, the way he stood there, all tall, and broad, and handsome. Everything went completely over Sirius' head, of course, but he doubts it would have been any different if he was more knowledgeable in this field.
His weird infatuation, unfortunately, did not vanish after two weeks of working closely together. In fact, it only seems to get worse. Sirius catches himself outright staring at Remus over the screen of his laptop while he's sitting at his desk. Or unnecessarily touching him, on the elbow to get his attention, on the shoulder while passing in a narrow hallway between the fridges.
Remus seems completely neutral most of the time, rarely talks about anything but work, and then only in short careless mentions. 'The line at the gas station was horrendous' – he's driving a car, apparently. 'Basil threw up all over my carpet yesterday, I have to take him to the vet' – he has a cat named, of all things, Basil. 'I have to pick up this call, my sister probably wants to talk about mother's day plans' – he has a sister and, surprise-surprise, a mother whom he's close enough with to visit on mother's day. 'My six o'clock tutoring was cancelled again today' – he's tutoring students on the side. Sirius files away these little tidbits of information and slowly collects a picture of Remus inside his head.
He's still a bit gruff and reserved, especially in the mornings, but seems to relax more in Sirius' presence. The first time Remus said 'thank you' when Sirius passed him something under the hood, he had to take a couple of deep breaths to calm the butterflies in his stomach. It was getting ridiculous – Remus is nothing but professional with him, but even the tiniest things make Sirius lose his cool and scream a little internally. Really, a simple 'thank you' or 'please' is just politeness, something Remus obviously lacked at the beginning of their work together, and not a sign that he somehow likes Sirius.
One time Sirius was sitting at the bench, splitting some cells, and his bun somehow got loose. Without any warning, Remus stepped behind him, gathered the stray strands of hair from his forehead and tucked them behind Sirius' ears, muttering something about sterile work environments and messy interns. Sirius felt the warm, gloved touch on his forehead and the sensation of Remus' tense stomach pressed against his shoulders for hours after that.
Sirius catches himself fantasizing more and more. How it would be to see Remus outside of the lab. How he would look at night, sleepy and content. How his flat looks, what his cat is like, what he likes to eat and what he dreams about. How his lips would feel on Sirius'. How warm his hands would be on his cheeks. How it would feel like to be hugged by him.
If Fabian notices any changes in Sirius' behaviour, he doesn't say anything. They don't spend much time together anymore – Fabian is working most nights when Sirius gets home or goes out to meet his friends. They rarely talk and fight more. About the dumbest things – how Sirius cooks the meat, when he gets up in the morning, how much he's working at home to fill the holes in his knowledge, where to go on the weekend or what movie to watch.
Sirius stops telling him anything about his internship because it's always met with disdain or snarky comments, and Fabian doesn't ask. Every morning Sirius wakes up and wonders whether today will be a good day or another round of arguments. He tries to leave all these issues at home when he goes to work, and if anyone notices, they have the decency to mind their own business.
One time Remus reached to pull something off a shelf behind Sirius and he flinched involuntarily. Remus just gave him a bewildered look and asked if he was okay, which was probably one of the most humiliating experiences in Sirius' life. He does it more now – asking him how he's doing, how his day has been if Remus was hung up with meetings, how his weekend was. Remus always answers with a simple ‚fine' or ‚good' when Sirius asks him the same things, so this is how Sirius answers as well – there is no need to burden anyone with his boring life.
"Hi, Sirius!" James peeks into the office, a grin on his face.
Sirius looks up from the screen and raises his eyebrows, smiling. Remus continues furiously typing something, ignoring everything around him like he's prone to do when he's engrossed in his work.
"We're going down to the pub in a bit," James announces. "Starting the weekend early, so to speak. Are you coming?"
Sirius blanks for a moment and hesitates. "Erm… I don't know?"
He can't remember if Fabian is working tonight or not, and Sirius really doesn't want to explain to him why he stayed out late just to listen to James serenading Lily, Ms Evans from HR, who is the target of his unrequited affection.
"You should come." Remus has stopped typing and is now looking at Sirius with a kind, but neutral expression.
Oh, so Remus is going as well? Suddenly it doesn't sound as unappealing anymore.
"Oh, alright, then," he says and feels a little shy.
James whoops and punches the air in his unyielding enthusiasm. "Great! The whole crew is assembled!"
Remus resumes his typing and Sirius looks down on his phone, debating whether he should text Fabian and let him know or hope that he's out working again and wouldn't notice either way.
"You are, you know?" Remus says, not looking up from his screen. "Part of the crew."
Sirius bites the inside of his cheek to avoid the uncontrollable grin that threatens to split his face and takes his hair out of the bun just to have something to do with his hands. By the time he got his expression under control and dares to lift his head, Remus is looking at him with a blank expression. Then he averts his eyes and resolutely turns off his monitor.
"Right, let's head down. Most of them are probably already there." He picks up his coat and throws Sirius his jacket.
"I didn't know you guys had pub nights," Sirius says when they are walking down the hall.
"Most Fridays," Remus says and nods. "I don't come every week, but it's nice to talk about something else than work sometimes."
Sirius remembers him staying late last Friday, everyone already gone or packing. Remus was sitting at his desk, curls in disarray, three different coffee mugs next to him, staring hopelessly at a daunting-looking Excel sheet with a large amount of data. He waved off Sirius' hesitant offerings of help and told him to get lost. And then, just before Sirius was out the door, dropped absentmindedly over his shoulder, 'have a nice weekend'. This was such a small thing that literally carried Sirius through the horrible two days of fighting-brooding-apologizing at home.
"I guess it is," Sirius says noncommittally.
Remus gives him a side-along glance and holds the door open for him, letting the biting wind cool Sirius' burning cheeks.
The pub really is just around the corner, and it's full to the brim. Remus manoeuvres them expertly through the crowd, knowing where to go, and Sirius tries to stay close to him. At some point Remus stops abruptly, letting a stressed-looking waiter with a full tray of drinks through, and Sirius face-plants right into him. His nose lands exactly above the line of Remus' collar and he can feel the soft curls at his nape tingling his brow. After that Remus takes his wrist in a loose hold, warm fingers brushing Sirius' pulse point, and tugs him through the crowd to the table from where James is already waving at them.
Still dazed from too much contact, Sirius greets everyone and drops into an open spot on the bench. Remus sits down on a chair across from him.
"Finally!" James hollers and scrambles up. "We were waiting for you before getting the second round. What are you drinking? Pilsner?"
James nods at his affirmative and turns to Remus. "And you, Mr Grumpy?"
Remus rolls his eyes but, unexpectedly, smiles and looks up at James who placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "A coke for me, please and thank you."
James beams at them. "Pilsner for Mr Gorgeous and some cocaine for Mr Grumpy, got it!" And promptly vanishes into the crowd.
Sirius watches him leave, completely gobsmacked, and almost jumps when Kingsley pats him on the shoulder. "Nice that you've made it," he booms. "We really need some fresh blood in here, I can't stand these idiots anymore."
"Thank you for inviting me," Sirius says sincerely and eyes Remus from the corner of his eye, who is talking to Peter. "Do you get interns often?"
Kingsley laughs and nods vigorously. "Yes, yes, plenty!" he exclaims like it's some sort of inside joke, and people around them laugh as well. "No one survives until the pub night though!"
"Huh?" Sirius looks at Kingsley questioningly and then turns to Remus, who is levelling the man with his most unimpressed look. "What do you mean 'no one survives'?"
"Don't listen to them," Remus says and waves his hand dismissively. "They're being dramatic."
Kingsley laughs again and, for some reason, winks at Sirius. "Seems like you're something else entirely," he says in a mysterious voice. But before Sirius can ask further questions, James arrives with the same waiter in tow they almost collided with earlier, carrying drinks to their table.
"You're not drinking?" Sirius asks Remus because he seems to be the only one without a beer or wine at their table.
Remus shrugs, tracing a finger through the condensation on his glass. "I'm driving."
Sirius wants to kick himself. Because of course, Remus is driving, he knew that already. He really should think more before he speaks. But Remus doesn't look annoyed, already distracted by something James is telling him, leaning across the table, and almost knocking over his pint.
The pub night goes smoothly. Sirius mostly listens, sipping his beer, relaxing more and more as time goes by. Remus seems to enjoy himself too, smiling and laughing openly. Sirius has to stop himself from looking over too much, afraid that someone might catch him staring and make fun of it. By the end of his second pint, he feels great, and even joins the heated discussion about the new head coach of Manchester United, which seems to win over James completely who turns out to be their biggest fan.
It's been ages since he last went out with friends that weren't Fabian's, and it feels amazing to be part of a larger group that seems to have accepted him without question so soon. At some point, Kingsley leaves to get the next round and Sirius pulls out his phone to be met with three missed calls and five messages. All from Fabian.
Sirius feels all blood drain from his face and stares at his screen, unable to find the courage to read the texts, let alone call him back. He knew this was going too well to last.
Suddenly, he feels way too dizzy, the room seems to grow hotter, and a bead of sweat trickles down his spine. A foot nudges him under the table and he looks up to see Remus watching him quizzically.
"I–" Sirius gulps. "I have to go now."
Remus nods once and turns to the table with a smile. "Have a great weekend, everyone. We'll head off now," he announces unexpectedly. And then, not even five minutes later, they are outside in the cold air, away from the loud voices and busy crowd.
A lighter clicks and Remus' face is minutely illuminated by the flame. He lets out a trail of smoke, looking up at the overcast, dark sky, and Sirius wishes nothing more than to have a fag as well.
"You didn't have to leave," Sirius says quietly, as they walk down the street together.
Remus shrugs. "I was thinking about going home soon anyway," he says lightly and looks over to Sirius. "Everything okay?"
Sirius simply nods, not trusting his voice, and stuffs his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. Because nothing is okay. But Remus doesn't need to know that.
A car peeps and blinks, and Sirius gathers that it must be Remus' – a silver Seat, nothing special. "Need a lift?" he asks, stopping in front of it and turning to face Sirius.
"Oh?" Sirius shakes his head. "No, thank you, I'll take the underground."
Remus lifts his eyebrows, taking a last drag and flicking the stud onto the street with a practised motion. "At this time?"
It's not actually that late, just after nine. Sirius smiles a little strained. "It's fine, I don't want to be a bother."
Remus cocks his head and chuckles suddenly, rolling his eyes, but not unkindly. "You're not a bother," he says simply and opens the car door. "I didn't ask out of politeness."
Why did you, Sirius wants to ask him. Why the trouble?
"Look," Remus says with a sigh when Sirius still hesitates, "I won't force you, obviously. I just would like to do you a favour. But you're free to do whatever."
Sirius nods slowly and walks over to the passenger seat, catching Remus smiling out of the corner of his eye.
"Why?" Sirius asks, after giving Remus his address and putting on the seatbelt.
"Hm?" Remus asks, reversing out of the parking spot.
"Why do me a favour?"
"Why not?" he asks back.
Sirius huffs and looks out of the window, warmth spreading in his chest. He watches the lights of the city swirl around them, watches the streetlights changing, watches Remus driving. He does it, like everything else, with a calm and steady hand, smooth and precise, but there is no frown between his brows, and his lips aren't pressed into a firm line. He looks relaxed like he's enjoying himself.
"You know, I can't drive," Sirius says suddenly.
Remus glances over to him quickly and smiles, surprised. "Really?"
"Yeah, never learned," Sirius admits a little wistfully.
"Why not?" There is genuine curiosity in his voice and for some reason, it compels Sirius to tell him more.
"Well, my parents didn't think it was necessary." Sirius avoids telling him that the necessity was satisfied by personal chauffeurs, and his parents thought driving was something for mere peasants. "And when I moved out, there was never enough money or a real need."
Remus nods in acknowledgement. "I always loved driving," he says. "Since I was a child. My mom likes to tell everyone that the only way to calm me down as a baby was to pop me into the car and drive around the block."
Sirius grins, imagining a small Remus sleeping soundly in a baby car seat. "Now I know you love two things," he says because he's a little drunk and it feels like the first real conversation they had for ages. "Smoking and driving. Very manly of you."
Remus snorts and then laughs openly. Sirius watches his profile in amazement.
"Wow," he comments and shakes his head, "that's what I call a great first impression. I must be looking very grim from the outside."
No, Sirius wants to tell him, you look beautiful from the outside.
"I hear some people even call you Mr Grumpy," Sirius says instead.
Remus huffs, glancing over to Sirius for a second. "James can fuck off."
This is the first time Sirius hears him curse and he can't hide a snicker. "Also, I think Kingsley tried to warn me that you eat interns for breakfast."
"Consider yourself warned," Remus says seriously, but the corner of his mouth is twitching.
Sirius waves a hand dismissively. "Nah, I made it thus far. I dare to be carefully optimistic."
Remus does smile at that, and Sirius thinks that he was immensely stupid to almost pass on the opportunity to see Remus like this – alone, relaxed, and unguarded. He also thinks that he never wants this moment to end – hanging somewhere in the middle, between work and home.
Chapter 3: Stranded
Notes:
A bit early, but I won't have time to post tomorrow, so here is a new chapter already. Enjoy!
Chapter Text
On Monday, after another weekend from hell, Sirius almost flies to work. He's awake even before his alarm, the morning rush doesn't bother him, even the rain feels refreshing. He has another full week of working with Remus and what's not to like about that?
Sirius goes through his morning routine with a tiny smile, whistling to himself. He drinks a coffee with Peter who tells him all about some membrane protein he managed to isolate successfully. He wipes the counters and restocks the paper towels, brings the spinner flasks to the autoclave, loads up the dishwasher, and reorganizes one fridge that is so overloaded it almost spilt its entire content on Sirius when he opened it.
At about ten past ten he goes out of the lab to see if Remus is in his office, but his desk is empty. Adel looks up from his screen, big headphones covering his ears, and gives Sirius a small wave before returning to some kind of online meeting or seminar he's in.
That's unusual for Remus to be so late. Did something happen?
Just as Sirius is about to go find James and ask if he heard anything, his phone buzzes with an incoming call from Remus.
"Hello?"
"Sirius." Remus' voice sounds a little off and Sirius frowns. "I'm afraid you'll be on your own today."
"Oh? Is everything okay?" Sirius lets a group of people through the hallway and steps into a corner of the common room, staring unseeingly at some poster about plug-flow based hydrolysis reactors.
"Yeah, yeah," Remus says and there is some shuffling. He clears his throat. "I'm just a little ill, nothing major. But I can't come in today, so you have to do everything alone."
Sirius rubs his cheek nervously, anxiety spreading in his gut. "Get well soon," he says and pauses. "I don't think I can do this alone, Remus."
Remus huffs good-naturally. "Of course, you can, I've seen you do it without any help plenty of times. You'll be fine."
"Yes, but you were always there," Sirius says quietly and closes his eyes, trying to get his nerves under control. "What if something happens?"
"I'm literally one phone call away," Remus assures him. "And you can ask James if you need anything."
Sirius swallows and hopes it can't be heard over the phone. "O… okay, I'll try," he says, unsure.
"Call me when you're done for the day," Remus orders and there is an audible smile in his voice. "Tell me how our cells are doing."
There it is again. 'Our cells'. Sirius smiles despite his nervousness.
"They already told me they miss you," he half-jokes and doesn't talk about the cells at all.
Remus hums and doesn't say anything for a short moment, during which Sirius kicks himself mentally for saying the stupidest things.
"I miss them too," Remus says then, barely audible, and Sirius imagines he's also not talking about the cells.
The day seems to stretch endlessly without Remus there. Sirius busies himself with checking all the cells in the incubator, splits some that have grown enough and changes the medium for those which haven't, runs a FACS analysis and sends the results to Remus' email. After lunch there is not much left for him to do concerning the general maintenance of the cell bank, so he grows a little bolder and goes through the process of cryopreserving some cultures that have grown a little too old to keep around without freezing.
Remus didn't explicitly tell him to do anything beyond the usual tasks, but Sirius remembers him talking about testing a different serum-free medium and comparing the growth, so he decides to try it out on a small batch that wouldn't be missed if he mucked it up.
At around five he decides that he's done every possible thing and rings Remus after some hesitation.
"You haven't called me all day, so I assume you've been doing splendid all on your own?" Remus says instead of a greeting. He sounds raspy and somehow stuffy like he can't breathe well through his nose.
"Actually, I burned the whole place down and the firefighters just left," Sirius says and delights in the laugh he manages to elicit from Remus. The moment is gone quickly when the laugh morphs into a cough.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Remus says and there is some shuffling and rumbling while he seems to make himself comfortable somewhere.
"Don't pretend like you don't love it here," Sirius teases and smiles. "How are you feeling?"
Remus sighs and sniffles. "Well, to be honest, I feel like shit," he says earnestly, and this is probably the first time he answered that question with something else than 'fine'. It really must be bad.
"Do you need anything?" Sirius asks and fidgets with a pen on his desk. "I can go to a pharmacy or get you food if you want. Tea? You definitely need tea."
Remus chuckles on the other end of the line. "I'm not that kind of supervisor who makes his interns prepare them coffee or wash their car."
Sirius rolls his eyes and huffs. "I'm not asking as your intern, Remus, I'm asking as a friend."
There is some silence and Sirius feels like he accidentally crossed some invisible line. Remus probably doesn't think they are more than just colleagues, and now Sirius embarrassed himself royally.
But when Remus does finally speak, his voice is somehow gentler. "Thank you," he says quietly as if it's meant only for Sirius' ears. "But I'll be fine. Noah came over."
Sirius bites his lip. "And Noah… is your girlfriend?" he asks, unable to fight his curiosity.
"Ha!" Remus exclaims, amused, and promptly has a coughing fit that sounds like he's also laughing at the same time. "Noah is my sister," he explains and then says loudly, "but I think she's only here to play with my PlayStation instead of looking after me!"
A small sigh escapes Sirius' lips and he smiles again. He can hear a female voice shouting something in the background, but he can't make out the words.
"How old is she?" Sirius asks.
Remus hums. "Wait," he says to someone off the phone. "How old are you even?" Then back into the phone, "She's seven years younger, so twenty-one."
And now Sirius actually knows how old Remus is – twenty-eight. He would've guessed younger, maybe twenty-five, but it doesn't make that much of a difference.
"I'm glad you have someone there," Sirius says.
"I'm not on my deathbed," Remus retorts and Sirius can vividly picture his eye roll. "I'll be as good as new tomorrow. Now tell me how the cells were behaving today."
Unfortunately, Remus is not as good as new on the next day. And the day after that. In fact, he excuses himself for the whole week and it is the longest week in Sirius' life. Not because the work is too much to do alone – it goes surprisingly well, actually. He doesn't do anything he hasn't done before, so it's more or less smooth sailing.
But Sirius is painfully aware of the fact that he misses Remus. His dry sense of humour, the way his eyes light up when talking about something he's interested in, the small pockets of time during the day when they go out in the back yard for Remus to smoke a cigarette and talk about anything but work. Hearing his voice, seeing him work, listening to him typing and murmuring to himself something about electron gradients.
Sirius feels incredibly lonely, even though James has started checking in on him throughout the day, probably sensing that something is off. Sirius still talks to Remus on the phone daily, updating him on what he has been doing, but it just isn't enough.
Remus sounds the worst on Wednesday. He doesn't pick up the phone for a long time and Sirius hangs up, suddenly remembering that Remus is ill and could be asleep, but Remus calls him back shortly after. He has trouble breathing and sounds quiet and dazed, probably suffering a fever. His cough doesn't sound good either – wet and roaring. It doesn't seem to be a common cold, but Remus refuses all offerings of help from Sirius. It makes him feel helpless and worried, but he can't possibly show up unannounced – he doesn't even know where Remus lives and doesn't want to ask anyone at the lab in fear of coming off like a giant creep.
By Friday he seems to be getting better, at least the cough is not as scary and he sounds livelier. He's smiling and even laughing again; Sirius can hear the sound of something cooking in the background. It's so domestic, Sirius physically aches when he remembers his cold and empty flat with shiny marble kitchen counters, large top-to-bottom windows and big frames with impersonal, modern art Sirius doesn't understand.
"You think you'll be back on Monday?" Sirius asks.
"I'm afraid your holiday from me is over after this weekend," Remus says and there is a smile in his voice.
"You're saying this as if I enjoyed this week," Sirius scoffs, offended.
"You haven't?" Remus sounds maybe a little bit pleased.
"It hasn't been the same," Sirius says carefully.
Remus hums and shuffles around. Sirius can hear a quiet thump and a loud meow – probably the cat making an appearance.
"Why did you call your cat Basil?" Sirius asks to divert the conversation.
Remus chuckles. "Because when I brought him home, he ate the whole basil plant I had in the kitchen in the five minutes I went out to prepare his litter," he explains. "I had a massive shock, had no idea whether basil is toxic for cats or not. Turns out it's fine, but he smelled like basil for a whole day afterwards. So, the name stuck."
"That is rather cute," Sirius says and smiles.
"Oh, he's a menace," Remus says fondly. "You won't find him cute when you meet him."
Sirius momentarily loses the ability to breathe. When you meet him. Not if. When. It's probably nothing, just a form of speech, but there is a whole flock of butterflies gnawing on Sirius' insides and he is sure that if anybody could see him right now, they would think he's mental with the grin he was sporting.
"I'm sure I'll love him," Sirius says. "Cats are great."
"I hate cats," Remus says nonsensically. "They are way too arrogant. More of a dog person myself."
Sirius laughs. "Why do you have a cat then, if you don't like them?"
Remus huffs and shuffles again. "Basil is a dog at heart, I'm sure. He even likes to play fetch."
It's the most adorable thing Sirius has ever heard, but he keeps it to himself. It's nice to chat like this, not about work and not with purpose. He feels like his picture of Remus, the person he is outside of the lab, is getting clearer every day. He is definitely opening up more. Sirius thinks back to the reserved, cool, unfriendly man he met just three weeks ago and can't believe it's the same Remus that tells him about his dorky cat and offers to drive him home just to do something nice for Sirius.
"Do you have pets?" Remus asks suddenly. This is one of a few instances when he asked something personal about Sirius.
"No," Sirius admits. "I always wanted to have a cat or a dog, but it never felt like the right time. We are rarely at home, so it would be unfair to the pet."
"We?" Remus clarifies, clearly curious.
Sirius hesitates. He never talked about Fabian with Remus, not after the first time he picked up his call on the very first day.
"My boyfriend – Fabian – and I," Sirius explains, because what else can he say?
"Busy work?"
Sirius hums and feels a little bitter about it again. "You could say so. He's a doctor, works in the A . He says that if he wanted to have animals around, he'd have become a vet, but he decided to be a real doctor instead."
Remus snorts softly. "Sounds like a great chap," he says neutrally. Sirius grimaces. Why did he even mention Fabian? It feels weird, like connecting two worlds that shouldn't ever meet.
"Anyway," Sirius says hurriedly, "let me know if you need anything over the weekend. I'll see you on Monday."
"Sure, have a good weekend," Remus answers, but his voice sounds far away somehow, and he hangs up.
"You too," Sirius whispers, a little too late.
"Are you sure it's the right address?" Fabian looks around with a sceptical expression.
Sirius sighs and stops walking. "I think so?" he says, starting to doubt himself. "I haven't been here before, and this restaurant was your idea."
They are in a part of town not too far away from Sirius' internship place, but he's never taken the chance to walk around here.
After a truly horrible week of lonely nights or angry discussions, Sirius has reached his boiling point on Friday night when Fabian stood him up again. He was so mad at Sirius for going to the pub night unannounced last week that he decided to make plans for the week after, because 'you never want to spend time with me anymore' and 'why are you hanging out with them, aren't I enough for you'. But then, when the time came, he simply didn't show up at home. He came in on Saturday morning, chipper and relaxed, completely unaware of having done something wrong.
They had a huge fight, where Fabian behaved like he didn't understand what was wrong, and Sirius got angrier and angrier by the minute. The cold, biting remarks from Fabian did nothing to calm Sirius down. It all ended with Fabian telling him he was being irrational and hysterical, and that he wouldn't continue the discussion until he could speak like a 'normal person' again.
For a whole day, they ignored each other, until Fabian came back and apologized for being a dick. He promised to take Sirius out to a nice restaurant on Sunday to make up for it and, with some reluctance, Sirius relented.
"Give me your phone, my battery is almost empty," Fabian says. "I'll look at the map."
Sirius hands him the phone and leans against a building.
"My God, it's ages away!" Fabian exclaims, studying the map. "We could have parked closer by."
Sirius doesn't mention that Fabian was the one picking out the place and deciding where to park. It wouldn't change anything, and he was really tired of fighting. Maybe they could have one nice evening together if Sirius just stopped provoking him?
Suddenly, Fabian's phone rings and he blindly picks it up, still looking at the map.
"Prewett. Yes… About…" He zooms out of the map for a moment. "About fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. Yes, okay, give him 6 mg of Adenosine. I'm on my way."
Sirius watches him, unbelieving.
"Sorry, I have to run," Fabian says quickly and presses a kiss to Sirius frozen cheek.
"I thought we have a date?" Sirius asks, detaching from the wall.
"I'm on call, Sirius," Fabian yells, already walking briskly down the street they came from. "You know how that is!"
Sirius splutters, watching him go, and then exhales slowly, letting his head hang. He shouldn't be surprised, really. It would have been too good to be true anyway, he thinks bitterly. Well, another lonely night for him.
He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket, heading in the direction of the nearest underground station and realizes a couple of things. Fabian didn't give back his phone. He is the one with the keys today. Sirius left his wallet at home and all his cards are in the case of his phone.
Fuck.
He feels tears welling up in his eyes and rubs them off with his knuckles. This is just amazing. He's stranded in the middle of, well, it's not nowhere, but it's far enough away from home to be uncomfortable. He has no way of communication, no money. And he can't go home because he doesn't have the keys.
Sirius is so lost in his misery that he doesn't look where he's going and practically runs into someone. Someone tall and broad.
"Whoa, careful." A hand steadies him and Sirius looks up through the tears to see Remus' surprised face. "Sirius? Are you okay? What's wrong?"
Sirius wants to scream. Of all the people he could meet right now, Remus is the last person he wants to see him like this. Lost, abandoned, and pathetic. He sniffs and takes a step back, muttering apologies, but Remus doesn't let go of him, holding him by the shoulders with both hands.
"What happened?" he asks again, looking Sirius over, taking in his dishevelled appearance, his teary eyes. "Are you hurt?"
Sirius, despite himself, laughs a little and rubs at his eyes again. Because no, he's not hurt physically, and that's what matters, right? "I'm fine," he says.
Remus doesn't seem convinced, gives him another once-over with worried eyes, and then there is a determined look on his face. "Come on," he says stiffly and tugs on Sirius' arm.
They walk around the block, and Sirius lets himself be guided until Remus unlocks his car and opens the passenger's seat for him. He gets in without protest, still a little shocked, and hopeless. It's not like he has anywhere else to go, is it?
Remus closes the door behind him and walks around, getting in the driver's seat, starting the engine, reversing out of the parking spot. All without saying a word. Sirius stares strictly ahead, unable to speak, not knowing what to say. He feels empty inside.
He wonders where they are going. Because if Remus wants to drive him home, Sirius can't really go inside and doesn't even dare to think about how humiliating it would be to explain why.
But the neighbourhood doesn't look familiar at all – it's old, Victorian houses and little parks, not the high rises of newbuilds Sirius is used to. He doesn't know how long they've been driving, but at some point, Remus pulls over next to an old house painted in a faint green colour. They are at Remus' home, Sirius gathers. Remus has taken him to his own flat, not Sirius'. He feels relieved and nervous in equal measure.
Remus gets out of the car and Sirius follows suit, not waiting for him to open his door. He's sad, not disabled.
They don't speak, until Remus leads him up the stairs of his building and opens a door with a key, motioning for Sirius to go inside. "Come in, before Basil decides to make a run for it." Sirius knows he's trying to joke, but his voice is way too strained to come off as casual.
Remus' flat is not at all how Sirius imagined it. It seems to have two rooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. The ceilings are incredibly high, even decorated with stucco, and the walls are painted white, like at the lab, only without the neon lights.
Just as announced, a large ginger cat strolls out from the bedroom. Basil looks like a small lion with a puffy tail and Sirius has to smile despite himself. He promptly darts towards Remus, rubbing all over his legs and purring loudly. Remus huffs, amused, and nudges him gently away with one foot, dropping off his bag and taking off his coat.
Basil then looks up at Sirius with large, yellow eyes and stares at him, unblinking.
"Hi," Sirius says softly and leans down to offer one of his hands for inspection. "I've heard a lot about you, Basil."
The cat sniffs at his fingers and then suddenly bumps its fluffy head against his palm in the most dog-like manner Sirius has ever seen. He chuckles and gives him a scratch behind the ears.
"Wow," Remus says, amused, and Sirius looks up at him with a smile. "You are Basil-approved," he says with a mix of satisfaction and surprise. "I had a feeling you guys would get along."
"We are BFFs now," Sirius assures him and picks Basil up carefully, who lets him do it without fuss. "See?"
Remus shakes his head and laughs, something unidentifiable in his eyes when he looks at them again. "Take your BFF to the couch then, I'll make us some tea," he says pointing towards one of the doors and walking into the kitchen.
Sirius hesitates for a second and then looks at Basil hanging relaxed from his arms. "What a weird day…" he tells him, and Basil yawns, oblivious to the emotions bubbling up inside Sirius.
The living room is spacious and weirdly shaped, more of a diamond than a rectangle. Sirius peers out of one of the windows and confirms that it's indeed the corner of the building. There is a large couch in the middle, facing a TV, multiple throws and mismatched pillows piled onto it. The coffee table is solid, dark wood, not metal and glass, like in Sirius' flat. There is an empty mug on it and a stack of papers. Sirius can imagine Remus sitting there, this morning, and reading them while drinking his second cup of coffee. Because he would have downed the first in one go directly in the kitchen, Sirius is sure of it.
There is an old-looking record player on the TV bench, a little out of place next to the PlayStation Remus' sister, apparently, developed a liking towards. A decorative mirror, looking like it's antique, hangs on one of the walls – it makes the large room with the high ceilings look even bigger.
Next to the couch is a big dining table with a low hanging lamp above it. Sirius can imagine Remus having friends or family over, all fitting comfortably at the large table, chatting and laughing, drinking wine and the record player is turning in the background.
A corner of the room is completely covered in multiple large bookshelves out of the same dark wood as the coffee and dining table. Sirius walks over and expects to see a lot of smart books about science, maybe some encyclopaedias or journals. But the shelves are filled with a wide range of books, all of them for pleasure – historical fiction, fantasy, a fair amount of science fiction and even some young adult fiction. There are small trinkets all over the shelves – seashells, maybe from a holiday trip, a very delicate-looking rose made of thin colourful glass, a vase that looks like a female torso from a renaissance sculpture.
Basil squirms in his hold, obviously tired from being held, and Sirius lets him down just in time for Remus to come into the room, carrying two steaming cups.
"I have no idea what tea you like, but Noah brought over something incredibly fancy. With roses or whatever," Remus says and shakes his head. "If it tastes awful, I'll make you something else."
Sirius smiles gratefully and sits down at the table where Remus has placed his cup. "Thank you, I'm sure it's fine."
Remus takes a sip and squints a little, trying to decide if he likes it, then shrugs. "So," he drawls and raises his eyebrows. "Will you tell me what is going on?"
Sirius sighs and sips his tea to buy some time. It does taste like roses, but mostly it tastes like nothing. "Is there an option not to?" he asks a little hopelessly.
Remus frowns and cocks his head as if trying to puzzle something out. "Yes, of course," he says lightly. "You can just finish your tea and leave; I won't be forcing you to do anything."
It sounds so natural out of Remus' mouth. Not passive-aggressive, not manipulative, not offended. He really means it. He's ready to listen if Sirius wants to tell him and will accept it without question if Sirius doesn't.
"I… It's so embarrassing," Sirius says quietly and buries his face in his hands. "I got stranded… of sorts. Without a phone, or keys, or any money."
"Were you robbed?" Remus is looking at him with worried eyes again.
"No." Sirius shakes his head. "Fabian and I wanted to go out, and then he got called into the hospital, and he had my phone and the keys."
Remus' face does something complicated before smoothing into a neutral expression again.
"I see," he breathes and sips his tea. "So, he just left you?"
Sirius nods, miserable and embarrassed.
"Took your phone, didn't give you the keys, left you without money?"
Sirius nods again and watches Remus nervously because there is an unhappy line at the corner of his mouth and his eyes look cold and hard. He suddenly regrets saying anything, because now Remus is angry with him and probably thinks he's stupid or careless.
Remus sighs and closes his eyes. "He's a jerk," he says in a clipped tone and drums his fingers on the tabletop. "Do things like this happen often?"
Sirius shakes his head quickly. "What? No! No, of course not…" he says hurriedly, but gets quieter with every word. "It was just… a coincidence."
And he thinks back. To the time where they went to visit Fabian's parents in the countryside and he left him there with them, choosing to go out alone with old schoolmates from the town. To all the times he stood Sirius up because of work or other, more important obligations. To the times he took away Sirius' phone when they were out, telling him that he needed time off from being available 24/7.
He notices he's staring at something behind Remus' shoulder and shakes his head, trying to get the thoughts out of his mind. Remus is watching him with knowing eyes but doesn't say anything. Instead, he takes out his own phone and slides it across the table to Sirius.
"Call him," he says. "The code is 0411."
Sirius stares at Remus for a second, then at his phone, then at Remus again. Did he just give Sirius his security code? Just like that? What? Remus raises his eyebrows expectantly and Sirius nods, typing in the code and then Fabian's number.
While he waits for him to pick up, Remus finishes his tea and takes out his cigarettes, lighting one. Completely unbothered that he's inside, even though it doesn't smell or look like he usually smokes in the living room. He flicks the ashes carelessly in his empty cup and Sirius notices his fingers are slightly shaking.
Fabian doesn't pick up. Not on the first try, not on the third. Sirius tries calling his own number, and his name pops up as a saved contact – just 'Sirius', no last name, no other identification note. Well, his name is rather rare, there is probably no need for that.
By the time Sirius locks the phone and lays it on the table again, Remus is on his second cigarette and looking progressively sinister.
"Call someone else?" he suggests.
Sirius looks down at the phone and realizes that there is absolutely no one he could call. Not a single soul.
"I don't know anyone else's number," he lies. Sirius eyes the open pack of cigarettes and Remus makes an inviting motion with his hand as if saying 'I won't be the one who got you back into smoking, but by all means, be my guest'.
And Sirius gives in to the urge, feeling relieved and weak at the same time. The smoke burns down his throat and in his lungs in an almost forgotten, forbidden way. And he watches the smoke he exhales wistfully, already missing the feeling of smoking even before he finished the cigarette.
When he looks back at Remus, his expression is nothing Sirius has ever seen before. It's intense in a way that makes Sirius shiver. He can see his jaws working and then Remus darts his tongue over the inside of his cheek and looks away. It's the single hottest thing Sirius has ever seen and thinking this feels even more forbidden than the cigarette in his hand. Sirius takes another long drag and reaches over to flick the ashes off in Remus' makeshift ashtray.
"You can stay the night," Remus offers and maybe, just maybe, there is more than simple politeness in his voice.
Sirius really wants to say yes, because Remus' flat is nice and warm, Basil has found his way in Sirius' lap and doesn't seem to have inclinations of moving any time soon, and Remus is right there, just an arm's length away. But Sirius doesn't think he can control himself if he stays – not after Remus more or less saved him from a night out in the cold, not after Fabian seems so removed and far away, not after Sirius has given in and smoked his first cigarette in four years.
"Thank you," Sirius says and is surprised by the strength in his voice that his traitorous gut lacks, "but no."
Remus nods, understanding. "What's the plan then?"
Sirius sighs. There is one last option. He just hopes that Andromeda hasn't moved since he last visited on Christmas two years ago. She's the last of his family he has any ties to, and even though they aren't in touch, she wouldn't turn him down.
"I'll go to my cousin," Sirius says and points at Remus' phone. "Can I call a cab?"
Remus smiles gently. "Of course."
The cab is due to arrive in five minutes and Remus brings him to the door, an annoyed Basil following them into the hall. Before Sirius walks out, he presses a fifty-pound note in his hand and closes the palm. "For the cab," he explains and refuses to take the money back.
"I'll pay you back tomorrow," Sirius promises.
Remus chuckles humourlessly and shakes his head. "Don't worry about it." He holds the door open for him but calls him back before Sirius descends the stairs. "I suggest you memorize some phone numbers," he says evenly. "Mine, for example."
And with that he closes the door, leaving a dumbfounded Sirius on the stairs.
The cab driver is polite and reserved, just what Sirius needs after the day he has had. He doesn't think he could stomach meaningless chatter right now. The ride isn't long, the streets are dark and deserted at this time, and Sirius arrives at Andromeda's house faster than he hoped. The lights are on, and he can see moving shapes behind the curtains. He pays for the ride with Remus' money, feeling all kinds of ashamed, and walks up the driveway slowly, trying to buy some time.
The door opens quickly after he knocks, and Andromeda looks him up and down with an expression that isn't at all surprised and more assessing. She's just as he remembers her – tall and slender, long hair curling over her shoulders, friendly-looking laughing lines around the mouth and eyes.
"I was wondering when this day would come," she says mysteriously by a way of greeting and opens the door wider. "Come on in, Sirius. You're safe here."
Sirius doesn't know what she could possibly mean by that, but for some reason, unshed tears burn in his eyes as he walks into the brightly lit house, Ted's voice and high-pitched laughter of Nymphadora sounding in the background. It does feel safe here.
Chapter 4: An Invitation
Notes:
TW: Gaslighting in the first scene
Chapter Text
"You just left me there!" Sirius yells, hands shaking in anger.
Fabian rolls his eyes. "I had to go to work, Sirius. I didn't do it on purpose," he says smoothly.
"Why were you even working that night?" Sirius asks through clenched teeth. "I thought you wanted to take some time for us. For me!"
"I did," Fabian says. "I was on call, but I figured they would be fine without me for two hours. I'm sorry that people are dying if that's what you want to hear from me."
Sirius runs his hands through his long hair helplessly, feeling more and more desperate. "No, that's not what I want to hear!" he tries to sound calm, but his voice wavers dangerously. "This isn't about your work at all, Fabian, why don't you get it?"
"Oh, I get it," he says and sneers. "It's about you like it always is. It's always just you, you, you."
Sirius shakes his head in disbelief. "What is this even supposed to mean ?"
"I'll tell you what it means," Fabian says with disdain. "It means that you need to grow the fuck up, Sirius."
"What does that have to do with my age?" Sirius asks, confused. "This is not the point."
"You're just looking for someone to blame," Fabian says. "And I refuse to be the scapegoat for everything that is going wrong in your life."
Sirius laughs bitterly and slumps into a chair, wringing his hands. "You? A scapegoat ? Are you kidding me?"
Fabian leans closer and grabs Sirius' hands painfully. "You need to calm down, Sirius," he says coolly. Sirius gulps and feels tears welling up again, which Fabian watch stream down his face with near disgust. " You forgot your wallet. You decided not to bring your keys. How is that my fault again?
Sirius looks down at their clasped hands and his cheeks are starting to burn. He's not wrong. Sirius did forget his wallet, and he didn't take his keys.
" You took my phone!" Sirius exclaims and Fabian drops his hands with an annoyed huff.
"You gave me the phone," he says as if it makes it better. "And in the rush to get to the literally dying patient I forgot to give it back to you. Sorry that someone's life is more important than your phone addiction."
Sirius blinks away the tears and raises his eyebrows. "My phone addiction? I was stranded! In an unknown neighbourhood, without any means of contact, money or a way to get into the house!"
Fabian looks over his perfect nails in an obvious display of boredom. "Are you done yet? We are walking in circles here. You need to own up to your mistakes and take some responsibility for your own life."
Sirius groans and drags a hand over his face, unable to think clearly. "I guess I am," he says and closes his eyes. What else is there to say?
"Good," Fabian says in a friendly tone and gets up from his chair. "You should wash your face; you look like a toddler that just had a temper tantrum."
Sirius stares at his hands for a long time after that, watching with some removed fascination how red marks start to bloom in places where Fabian grabbed him.
On the Friday after the incident, Sirius arrives at work to find Remus already there, typing something on his computer.
"Good morning," Sirius greets him with a smile and drops his bag on the desk.
On Monday, Sirius came into work with the most anxiety he's ever had, expecting some kind of interrogation from Remus, or maybe even other co-workers, if Remus has told anyone about what happened. But it never came. Remus behaved like he usually did and didn't mention anything regarding their conversation the day before. No one else bothered Sirius about it either and he felt ashamed for even thinking that Remus could have told anyone.
"I hope you don't have any plans for next weekend," Remus says in his usual manner without a 'hello'.
Sirius cocks his head, confused. "Next weekend? No, I don't think so. Why?"
Remus is all business and no bullshit, looking very put together in his black dress shirt. It looks good on him, brings out his broad shoulders beautifully.
"I am presenting at a convention and you're accompanying me," he says without looking up. And then adds, "If you want to, of course."
Sirius raises his eyebrows in surprise and beams. He would very much like to see Remus do a presentation, let alone at a convention. It sounds important and Sirius feels flattered to be asked to go. "Sure, I'd like that. Where is the convention?"
Because last time Remus did a presentation at the institute, he just dragged Sirius along without much warning, so it must be somewhere else this time.
"Prague," Remus says nonchalantly.
"Excuse me?" Sirius says with a laugh, thinking he's joking.
Remus does look up then, all calm and composed. "Prague. Capital of the Czech Republic," he says again. "Is that a problem?"
Sirius blinks a couple of times, still not sure if he heard correctly. "No?" he says in a small voice.
"Good," Remus concludes. "I'll book the tickets."
They spend the rest of the day in various meetings where Sirius has trouble focussing, still thinking about Remus inviting him to go to Prague. He has travelled quite a bit around Europe in his life, but he's never been to Prague before. It sounds weirdly romantic, and Sirius doesn't know whether the city has maybe the same implications in pop culture as Paris, or he'd find every place romantic as long as he was there with Remus.
He feels like, after the last week, their relationship evolved somehow from being just colleagues. Remus now sometimes sends him pictures of Basil that he thinks are funny and Sirius leaves him silly notes on the culture flasks as if they were written by the cells themselves. They went out to get lunch together twice now to everyone's unending amusement.
Sirius is pretty sure Remus sees him as a good work friend now and feels even more ashamed for his own not-so-friendly feelings towards him. It just seems unfair to Remus. When they were more reserved around each other, it didn't matter as much – Sirius was pretty good at convincing himself that he was just attracted by Remus' superior professionalism or his work ethic, or simply his quite handsome looks. But now… now it's all of that and so much more.
He enjoys the way Remus wrinkles his nose when he laughs. Admires his knowledge – not just about biology, but about everything else too, it's like you can ask him anything and he'll have a thought-out answer ready to go. Delights in the way Remus only seems to stomach him, and not anyone else at the lab, until at least noon. Loves how easily and seamlessly they work together, like a well-oiled machine. He feels safe and valued around Remus, who started asking Sirius for his opinion on things he is definitely not competent enough to have an opinion on, who can explain the most complex things in a way that Sirius can understand quickly, who encourages him to try new things and assures him that he's good enough.
Sirius is undoubtedly, hopelessly, and utterly smitten by Remus.
Remus, who values Sirius as a friend. Remus, who has never hinted in any way that he might not be straight. Remus, who knows that Sirius is in a serious, long-term relationship. Remus, who doesn't deserve to be drawn into some weird, unwanted romance drama that takes place in Sirius' head.
"My, oh my, who got you smiling like that?" James claps him on the shoulder, ripping him out of his thoughts, as they walk down the hallway after the last meeting.
"Huh? What?" Sirius looks at him and frowns. Has he been smiling all this time? Did he make a fool of himself?
"I know this smile," James teases and laughs. "I can't keep it down either when I see my angel, Lily."
Sirius feels his cheeks grow hot. "No, no, it's not like that," he tries to explain. "I was just looking forward to this convention."
James looks at him quizzically and adjusts his glasses. "Convention?"
"Next weekend," Sirius says and nods, grateful to have diverted the conversation from the dangerous topic. "Remus is presenting and is taking me along."
"Wait." James actually stops in his tracks and looks completely bewildered. "The BioScience in Prague?"
Sirius shrugs, because he doesn't actually know the name yet, but he doubts that there are multiple conventions on this topic in Prague. "Why? Is it a big deal?"
"A big deal, he asks," James mutters to himself and shakes his head, resuming his walk. "Mate, I don't want you to freak out now, but I've known Remus for over five years since he started as a student part-time," he begins, and Sirius instantly feels himself freaking out. "Trust me when I say that he has never, ever , taken somebody to a conference or convention. Hell, he fired most of his interns before we even learned their names."
Sirius has gathered as much already, even though he struggles to understand it completely. Sure, Remus is very particular about the way he works, but he's also patient, and kind, and helpful. He's never once made Sirius feel stupid after their first encounter. And Sirius is sure the other interns must have been more experienced and knowledgeable than him.
"I don't get it," Sirius says truthfully. "Remus is such a nice person, why does everyone pretend like he's some kind of wicked stepmother?"
James laughs joyfully and winks at Sirius. "Are we even talking about the same person?" He holds out his hand above his head. "Big guy, about this tall, curly hair? Temper like a sleeping dragon? Smart, but a bit full of himself? Can kill you with his eyes?"
Sirius raises his eyebrows and laughs as well. "No, I don't think we are talking about the same person at all."
James shakes his head again and whistles in astonishment. "That I get to experience something like this. We finally found someone who Remus genuinely likes," he says and then gives Sirius a cheeky grin. "Well, I'm not surprised, you are a brilliantly handsome bloke, even I can see that."
"First of all, you should update your glasses prescription, you're clearly seeing things," Sirius says and huffs. "Secondly, I am so telling Lily that you said that next time I see her. And thirdly, what do my looks have to do with that?"
James wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, no, nothing, of course," he says unconvincingly. "And could you please tell Lily how handsome I am instead? Please?"
"Nope!" Sirius laughs and walks a little faster to get away from a pouting James. "Not happening!"
Sirius walks into the crowded bar alone and makes a beeline for their table. It's still a bit early, but Remus is stuck in yet another meeting with the group leaders and promised to drop by later when he's finished.
The table is, as expected, still a little empty. Peter is discussing something with Adel, both leaning over a phone screen. Oliver and Cyril are standing over by the bar, probably waiting for their drinks. And, surprisingly, Lily is there, sitting alone and twisting her olive listlessly in her martini. James will lose his marbles when he gets here.
"Hi, Ms Evans," Sirius greets and sits down opposite her.
She looks up at him with a smile. "Sirius! Nice to see you. Please call me Lily, or else I'll feel older than I am," she says in a pleading voice.
"Lily, then," Sirius relents and smiles. He's been calling her Lily in his head and with others from the lab for a while now anyway. It's a little hard to avoid when someone like James is fawning over her relentlessly.
"How was your first month?" she asks curiously. "I haven't heard anything from you or from Remus, which I take is a good sign."
"It's going really well," Sirius says and really means it. "I love it here and I learn so much from Remus, he's amazing."
Lily gives him a bright smile, looking very pleased by this news. "I'm happy it worked out for you, Sirius."
Sirius takes a deep breath and decides that now is the perfect time to ask since barely anyone is here yet and Lily seems to be in a good mood.
"Can I ask you a question?" He waits for her eager nod and continues, "Why did you pick me? I mean, you probably had loads of applications from many students that are way better suited for it than I am."
Lily looks at him with her clever, green eyes, as if deciding something in her head. Then she smiles. "You're right, we had a lot of applicants. But they all lacked a certain…" She makes a vague motion with her hand. "Je ne sais quoi."
Sirius raises his eyebrows at her. "And that means…?"
Lily sighs and takes a sip of her drink, looking incredibly smart and beautiful. If Sirius wasn't gay, he'd probably join James' fan club.
"Look, I will tell you this because it seems to be going well, and I think you're a nice guy that won't run around telling everyone," she says in a hushed voice and Sirius leans closer. "You probably heard already that Remus has a… bad rep when it comes to interns? Or to be precise, anyone working closely with him."
Sirius simply nods.
"I tried everything. Boys, girls, young, smart, old, experienced… With the most shining recommendations, the best grades, most charismatic personalities. Nothing ever worked out."
Sirius still can't imagine it, but involuntarily holds his breath to not miss anything.
"The bosses are not happy with him. His supervisor is annoyed to no end. I tried talking to him, multiple times, explaining that he has to work on his social skills, or he'll lose his PhD placement," she rattles quickly. Sirius' blood drains from his face. Remus is in trouble? He might be fired? What? "Don't get me wrong, he does a bloody great job! I have no idea about anything that he does, mind, but he's still one of the brightest heads at the firm. He has a wonderful career ahead of him."
Sirius nods. Yes, this sounds more like Remus.
"But it's not enough, you know? He needed to convince everyone that he is capable to work in a team. The last girl I hired? The perfect fit for the position – almost done with her studies, has written her theses on a connected topic to Remus' research, has outstanding grades, well-spoken, nice-tempered, quick and smart. What does he do? He kicks her out after only two weeks."
Sirius eyes Lily in disbelief and she nods vigorously. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes alight, it seems like this topic has been bothering her for a while now.
"I told him, 'Remus, are you completely nuts? You will be the next to go if you keep going on like this!' and what did he say? He just looked at me like I'm a bug under his shoe and said, 'I'll fucking leave myself if you won't find me someone who deserves this position or leave me the fuck alone'!"
Her impersonation of Remus is really good and despite himself, Sirius can imagine this conversation taking place. He feels all jittery inside, already knowing what comes next.
"So, I said to myself I'll give him one last chance. Nothing worked out before, so I decided on a different approach, and then I saw your application," she points a finger at Sirius' chest and grins. "So young! No experience at all! Almost not theoretical basis! And I thought 'wow, this is perfect'."
Sirius doesn't know if he should feel flattered or offended. In all honesty, Lily is not wrong.
"And here you are," she says proudly. "One month in and no complaints, no casualties. I don't know why, but it worked."
Sirius smiles a little and turns around just in time to catch the big group of the rest of the lab crew walking through the door. He finds Remus instantly and their eyes meet. Remus smiles and nods to the bar, raising his eyebrows in question. Sirius nods.
Lily watches their silent exchange with big eyes.
"I think I know why," Sirius says. "And you know it too."
Lily hums and drains her martini. "He'll be a good professor one day," she agrees. "I'm glad I cracked that fucking egg."
Sirius chuckles and accepts his pint from Remus, who sits down in the chair beside him.
"I can sense you're gossiping," Remus says and narrows his eyes at Lily. She smiles sweetly at him.
"Sirius was just telling me how great of a supervisor you are," she sing-songs.
Remus glances quickly at Sirius and his lips quirk slightly upwards. "Did he now?"
Sirius hides his face by taking a long gulp of his beer.
"Oh, yes," Lily says and there is mischief in her eyes, "I told him 'Sirius, please, I'm tired of listening to your hymn of praise, let's talk about anything else' but he just can't let it be."
Remus laughs. "Now I know you're lying," he says, but he sounds very pleased, nonetheless.
Lily laughs too and tosses her long, red hair over her shoulder. "Did I lay it on too thick?"
"Slightly," Remus says dryly and then turns to Sirius. "It's your first month over now, right? How do you like it so far?"
Sirius cocks his head and raises his eyebrows. "Fishing for compliments, are you?"
Remus smiles openly, flashing teeth and it does something wonderful to Sirius' heart. "I'll take constructive criticism as well," he drawls.
"I'll make sure to write a letter of evaluation," Sirius jokes. "We can discuss it at the staff appraisal meeting."
Remus snorts and clutches his chest dramatically. "I knew it, he needs a mediator to talk to me. I am wounded."
"Well, Mr Lupin," Sirius says playfully, "we wouldn't want it to seem like we're anything but professional, would we? What would it do to your carefully constructed reputation as the local beast?"
Remus actually cackles and leans closer to Sirius. "Shh." He presses a finger to his lips and looks around conspiratorially. "Don't let anyone hear that I'm just a normal human."
Sirius nods severely. "I'll make sure to spread tales about your repulsive habit of talking sweetly to your cells when they don't grow as they should and your scary ability to swaddle your cat in a blanket like a baby."
"Deal," Remus says seriously, and they shake hands.
When they look up again, Lily is watching them with a look of utter shock on her face, which quickly morphs into a very smug expression. "Oh, I have a great feeling about this," she says and nods to herself.
Sirius is sure his ears are glowing in the dim light of the pub. Were they just… flirting? Playful banter? Inside jokes amongst good pals ? What the hell is he even doing? And how on earth is Remus playing along?
He is ripped out of his spiral of anxiety when James looms over his shoulder. "Lily, fancy seeing you here," he says in a tone full of fake casualness. Sirius and Remus share an amused look and nip on their drinks simultaneously.
"Mr Potter," Lily says and quirks a groomed, red eyebrow, "this is hardly a coincidence as this is a staff outing."
James' face falters a little at the formal tone, but his smile is back in place shortly after. "Lab staff outing!" he exclaims like he just caught Lily red-handed.
Lily looks very unimpressed. So unimpressed even, that Sirius is pretty sure it's just an act. Remus smiles into his glass and bumps his knee against Sirius'. Just an accident?
"Cyril is from accounting," she retorts and nods over to the other end of the long table. "And Tony is from IT."
James looks at Lily's empty glass and senses an opportunity to change the subject. "May I get you a new drink?" he offers.
Surprisingly, she shrugs and slides her martini glass over with one perfectly manicured finger. James' face lights up like a Christmas tree and he grabs it enthusiastically.
"And some nuts," she requests in a bored tone.
James grins and drops into a low bow. "Anything for m'Lady!"
When he's gone into the crowd, Lily's face morphs into a pleased smile. Sirius can hear Remus unsuccessfully mask a laugh with a cough.
"So, Lily," Sirius says and leans over a little, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Isn't James a devilishly attractive bloke?"
She rolls her eyes but then copies Sirius' stance. "Not as attractive as you," she drawls, but her eyes are laughing.
Sirius grimaces and leans far back in his chair. "Restrain yourself, woman, this is workplace sexual harassment," he says in mock-outrage and Remus beside him chokes on his drink. "I will report you to HR!"
She smiles knowingly. "You're welcome to," she announces. "I will evaluate it and present it at the board meeting where everyone will agree that the firm doesn't care what their employees do in their free time."
"Thank God for that," Remus quips. "The tendrils of capitalism only rule half of our waking time!"
"Why does it sound so dirty out of your mouth?" Lily asks and laughs. Sirius blushes again.
Remus shrugs. "I am a man of many talents," he says sarcastically and then turns to Sirius. "Fancy a smoke?"
They go outside, running into a beaming James carrying three different sorts of nuts to their table. It's drizzling rain and they hide under the small ledge above the pub display. In the red light from the neon sign, Remus looks like a mythical creature.
"How long do you think they will tip-toe around each other?" Sirius asks, trying not to stare.
Remus takes his time lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. He lets the smoke out slowly and then forms a couple of rings that hover lazily in the wet, thick air around them. Sirius thinks that he might as well faint on the spot with how insanely hot Remus is.
"James and Lily?" Remus asks and Sirius nods. "I think James can go on forever, but I don't know how long Lily will be able to reject his attention."
"Forever?" Sirius laughs. "Don't you think he will tire sooner rather than later?"
Remus smiles a crooked smile. "It's been going on for over two years now," he mentions casually.
Sirius gapes at him. "Two years?! That's mental!"
Remus doesn't look at him, watching the smoke curl from his fingers instead, and his profile looks sharp against the dark of the night. "Sometimes it's worth waiting for the right person," he says finally, and his voice is light and sure like he actually believes it.
Sirius swallows hard and feels giddy inside. It's probably the wet, cold air. He looks longingly at Remus' burning cigarette and almost physically feels his constraint snap. Without giving himself enough time for doubt, he reaches out and plucks the cigarette out of Remus' cold hand. Their fingers brush lightly, and Remus lets the fag go, following Sirius' hand to his mouth with dark eyes.
Sirius can see his Adam's apple move jerkily as he watches Sirius inhale the smoke and then let it out in a thin stream. It's almost like kissing, Sirius thinks with a fair share of bitterness. The only way he's allowed to feel Remus' lips against his.
He holds the cigarette out to Remus again and their eyes meet for a long moment. Sirius doesn't have the strength to look away. Because Remus looks absolutely gorgeous – he has this intense look again, eyes slightly narrowed, but there is a quirk in his lips. He takes the cigarette back carefully, their fingers brushing again, and looks away with a small sigh.
"Are you excited about Prague?" Sirius asks and his own voice sounds strange to him – raspy and strained.
Remus shrugs. "I don't care much about the convention itself," he admits. "It's hectic and if it's anything like last year, the organisation will be a nightmare. But I look forward to seeing the city again."
"You've been there before?" Sirius asks and then grimaces. Because Remus just implied that he was at the convention last year as well, of course, he's been there before.
But instead of making fun of him, Remus just smiles wistfully and holds out the cigarette to Sirius again. "I've studied there for one semester during my Master's," he says and there is a certain tenderness to his tone. Sirius accepts the cigarette and looks at Remus curiously.
"I didn't know," he says. "Did you like it there?"
Remus watches him out of the corner of his eye. "It's the most beautiful place I've been to," he says seriously. "There is this atmosphere… It's hard to describe, you'll see it for yourself."
Sirius nods and exhales slowly. "Thank you for inviting me. I know it will be an inconvenience for you."
Remus presses his lips together in a firm line and Sirius feels bad for starting this conversation. He shouldn't have mentioned it, now Remus will definitely change his mind. As James said – he never takes anyone along, there must be a reason for it.
"I hope I don't make it seem like you're an inconvenience," he says stiffly. "I'm sorry if it comes off like this."
Sirius frowns. Remus never makes him feel like that, actually, he just assumed…
"No, no, I'm sorry. That's not it at all. I didn't think."
Remus sighs, long and a little exasperated. "You can say your mind, you know? Tell me if I'm being rude or if I do something that makes you uncomfortable. You can tell me to fuck off whenever, I promise I won't get mad."
Sirius doesn't really believe him. Telling Remus to 'fuck off' is the last thing he wants to do anyway. So, he just nods and stumps out the cigarette in an outdoor ashtray.
"Let's head inside," Remus says, leaving their small hiding place from the rain. "Lily probably needs saving from James' advances."
Lily doesn't seem to mind all that much, Sirius wants to say, but just smiles instead and follows Remus into the pub.
Chapter 5: Prague
Notes:
I am so grateful for your incredible feedback! I am over the moon and so excited to share this work with you.
And as a thank you - here is the chapter everyone waited for, and my personal favourite. Do come yell at me in the comments!
Chapter Text
The weekend of the convention can't come soon enough for Sirius.
The atmosphere at home, already charged after everything that happened, is almost unbearable. Fabian did not take the news that Sirius will be on a work trip well, accusing him of the most outlandish things, then making fun of his internship, then begging him not to go, then sulking.
Sirius tries to stay at work longer if at all possible, and Remus seems to understand him without explanation. He decides, out of the blue, that they have to deep clean the whole lab. He makes Sirius listen to his presentation and give him feedback. He gives him research tasks that he needs to use the firm's intranet for. He even assigns him to help Peter with his bioreactor cultivations that run well into the night, explaining it with the need for Sirius to learn more than just cell culture handling.
And just like that, it's Friday afternoon and Remus resolutely closes his laptop and stuffs it into his bag. The plan is to take a plane to Prague in the evening, right after work. A major part of the convention takes place on Saturday morning, where Remus will be presenting, and then there is free time to roam the stands in the afternoon. On Sunday morning are a couple of workshops and some more presentations before they take the plane home.
Sirius feels nervous and jittery. He agonized for hours about what to pack, how to dress and poured over a map of Prague like his life depended on it. Remus, on the other hand, seems as calm and relaxed as ever, and Sirius himself feels a little more composed while walking next to his confident frame to their gate. His presence feels very grounding to Sirius, even his anxiety fades to the background.
"Are you nervous at all about your presentation?" Sirius asks when they board the plane.
They are sitting together, Remus having gently guided Sirius into the window seat. The plane is fully packed – people fighting over hand luggage spaces, children screaming, flight attendants trying to organize the chaos. Remus watches everyone in slight annoyance, but when he turns to Sirius, his eyes are kind.
"Not really," he says. "I'm sure it'll come tomorrow."
"Everyone will love you," Sirius says earnestly. "Your presentation is amazing."
Remus huffs but smiles slightly. "I'm presenting right after the Cultured Meat guys; I don't think I can live up to that excitement."
"Cell therapy is a serious advancement in the treatment of various diseases, can actually save lives and already has successful applications. Cultured Meat is just a hyped-up idea that is way too expensive to ever make it on the general market – no one will pay a thousand pounds for one burger patty," Sirius argues.
Remus blinks a couple of times and then looks at him with a blinding smile that Sirius rarely gets to see and that makes his stomach flip. "Wow, someone has done their homework," he says and then pats Sirius' knee. "Thank you, I appreciate it."
Sirius spends the rest of the flight hiding his burning face by staring out of the window and drumming nervously against his knee, still feeling the ghost of the quick touch on it.
They arrive at the airport in Prague on time and Remus leads them expertly out and to the bus that takes them into the city. It has gotten dark already and Sirius doesn't see much on their way to the hotel. They get out of the bus and into the underground once, and Sirius feels a little lost amongst all the billboards and signs in a different language, but Remus is, like always, calm and confident, and Sirius just lets go of his worries, following his lead.
He has to grip Remus' hand in surprise when they arrive at their station and go through the halls to the escalator. It's enormous – narrow, incredibly long, absurdly steep and way faster than Sirius is used to. Remus doesn't seem to mind, holding his hand all the way through. Sirius watches other people running down the already deadly-looking steps in fascination.
"Have you been to Russia?" Remus asks him when they get out into the cold air and Sirius exhales slowly.
Sirius shakes his head. "No, why?"
Remus smiles. "The metro in Prague was built under the Soviet influence, this is why it's a little different than in other European cities – deeper underground, for example. The metro in Moscow is even worse, sometimes even your ears plop because it's so steep and fast."
And this is the moment Sirius – tired from a full day of work, waiting at the airport, a tumultuous plane ride – wants nothing more than to kiss this wonderful man. The urge is so strong, Sirius has to dig his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from reaching out.
"It's amazing how you know things like that," Sirius says, and Remus smiles a little bashfully.
He lights a cigarette and promptly hands it over to Sirius after just one quick drag. They have been doing this more often now – sharing cigarettes. Sometimes, Remus lights a second one directly after the first, which they share as well. It's nonsensical, really, Sirius could just smoke one alone then, but he enjoys it a lot more this way, and Remus never offers him one of his own.
They stand like that for a while, smoking, watching people walk in and out of the station, on the brightly lit, cobbled streets, into shops and over a small square with a fountain. Sirius knows that Remus hates smoking and walking, finds it too stressful, not as enjoyable. It's mind-boggling how many of these small quirks of him he now knows – how he smokes (slow and deliberate), how he likes his coffee (black and way too sweet), which pipettes he prefers (the ones with the safety button), how he eats his apples (cutting off chunks and eating them from a knife like a psycho).
Sirius wonders if Remus notices things like that about him. Probably not, why would he?
Remus leads them through busy streets with bars and cafés full of people and music streaming out of every door. Everything is made of stone, old buildings crowding together in all shapes and sizes. There are barely any cars and absolutely no parking spaces – it's a city for walking, Remus mentions.
They arrive at the hotel and check in; their rooms are next to one another, and Sirius feels a little sad when they decide about when to meet for breakfast and Remus wishes him a good night. He doesn't want to be alone again, in an unfamiliar hotel room, when Remus is right there, on the other side of the wall. But what is he supposed to do about it? He can't possibly just go over, he doesn't want to bother him – they had a long day, tomorrow is important for Remus, he needs to relax and not be annoyed by Sirius' presence.
So, Sirius goes into his own room, doesn't bother with unpacking, takes a long hot shower, trying not to think about Remus' hand on his knee, the handholding, the lingering ghost of his lips on the filter of their shared cigarette, and fails miserably.
It's making Sirius crazy. When he's alone, he feels this impossible longing for Remus, not unlike a toothache – not enough to be distracting, but impossible to ignore. When he's with Fabian, he can't help but imagine that it's Remus' hands around him, Remus' lips on his, Remus' body against his. When he's with Remus, it's even worse – a constant need to hear his voice, to touch him or be touched, to be seen.
It's unfair to Remus, who has no idea what Sirius imagines about him in his head. It's unfair to Fabian, who doesn't know that Sirius is far away instead of being with him. It's unfair to Sirius himself because he's stuck in a relationship that feels more and more like a burden and could never have what he actually wants.
Sirius falls asleep, feeling cold, lonely, and miserable.
On Saturday morning, Sirius feels better. Suddenly, things don't seem so bleak anymore in the light of day – he was probably just tired and anxious, not ideal but not the end of the world either.
They eat a quick breakfast at the hotel, where Remus downs three cups of coffee. He doesn't look good like he hasn't slept well. It's probably the nervousness before the convention catching up with him and Sirius feels inexplicably better for it because it's a confirmation that Remus is not as perfect as he seems. Sometimes Sirius feels like an inexperienced child next to him and it's nice to know that Remus has doubts as well, even though Sirius doesn't wish him ill at all.
The convention starts at nine, Remus' presentation is at eleven fifteen, and they sit together in a middle row of one of the speaker panels. Remus doesn't seem to listen to the other talks, leafing through his notes instead, and at some point, Sirius lays a hand on top of his papers to stop him from fumbling through them for the millionth time.
"You'll do great, stop worrying," Sirius whispers and Remus lets him take the notes away and put them back in his bag.
He doesn't say anything, just sighs and crosses his arms, clenching his biceps until his knuckles are white. Sirius doesn't know what to do, can't find the right words to make him relax and feels utterly useless because of it. This is what he's here for, isn't it? To be Remus' moral support. He doesn't usually take anyone, but he decided to take Sirius, and Sirius is just confirming his doubts.
"On a scale of one to ten, what is your stress level at the moment?" Sirius asks in a bad imitation of Lily during the break, handing Remus a tea in a paper cup.
Remus stares strictly ahead. "Six," he says without hesitation as if he has already evaluated his own mental state long before Sirius asked.
Sirius laughs, surprised. "If this is a six, what is a ten?" he asks and nudges Remus with his shoulder.
"I don't know," Remus says and shrugs. "Breaking things? Crying in the loo?"
They smile at each other.
"I promise you, it will all be good. You won't even bat an eye and then it will be over. And you will sit here and ask yourself why you worried so much," Sirius tries, not hoping for anything.
But Remus seems to relax somewhat. At least he sips his tea now and murmurs, "And this too shall pass."
"You should get a ring with that engraved," Sirius says, catching the reference.
Remus snorts. "Not a ring kind of guy."
Sirius raises his eyebrows. "What will your future wife think of that, huh?"
There is a frown again between Remus' brows and he looks at Sirius sceptically. "What wife?" Then he sighs and smiles. "Stop having me on, goddamn it!"
Sirius laughs and sips his own tea, feeling just a little accomplished. "I'm using a distraction tactic to get your brilliant mind off fruitless anguish. Is it working?"
"No," Remus answers stubbornly. "But I appreciate the effort."
They listen to another two presentations, during which Remus seems to be more composed before he gets up to go to the back of the panel in preparation for his turn.
"Go get 'em, tiger!" Sirius whispers to his back and Remus chuckles all the way to the door, shoulders shaking slightly.
Just like Sirius expected, everything goes smoothly. He watches Remus in awe, standing there in front of dozens of important people, tall and proud. He is a little nervous at first, stumbling a bit through the introduction, but quickly finds his rhythm and relaxes into his speech. Sirius has heard the presentation at least five times now, in different versions, and doesn't pay that much attention to the actual content, focussing more on watching Remus being all hot and smart, using his professor's voice.
The audience is interested, some are even taking notes, and there are at least ten arms in the air when it's time for questions. Sirius knows this is the part Remus was most insecure about, which is ridiculous – he's the guy with all the answers, there is nothing to worry about.
Two people from the audience just share their opinion on the topic, long and rambling, posing uninspiring alibi-questions at the end that Remus answers quickly and efficiently. One praises Remus' talk and then introduces a completely unrelated topic, and Remus has to gently lead the conversation back to cell therapy before the discussion gets derailed. Another one just talks about the paper he's written on this topic, not asking any question at all. And then there are one or two real questions that Remus answers competently. With that, his time is over and he leaves the stage smiling, cheeks flushed.
"Well," Sirius says in a mocking tone, walking up to Remus at the back where he's packing his bag up. "Thank you for the great talk, I have one question and this question is – I do almost the same thing you do, but better. By the way, do you read the Nature Journal? Because we have a paper coming out next month."
Remus turns around to face him and laughs freely. "Welcome to the world of academia, my young Padawan."
"They are all ridiculous," Sirius drawls and smiles. "You were wonderful. The Cultured Meat people can suck it."
"Hell yeah!" Remus exclaims, clearly still riding his high and then looks at Sirius with a mischievous expression. "Tell me honestly, how keen are you on watching the rest of the talks and browsing the stands?"
Sirius shrugs. "I don't mind, really. Why?"
"We can stay, of course, if you like," Remus prefaces. "But I've heard enough for today and I would much rather show you the city."
This sounds absolutely amazing. Sirius was hoping they would have some time to go out after the convention, but almost a whole day in Prague, with Remus, seems like a dream. And his words make Sirius stomach flip with anticipation – 'I want to show you the city'. It sounds very intimate like Remus is letting him in on a secret. Knowing that he loves Prague just makes it all the more special for him to want to share it with Sirius.
"I'd love to!" Sirius beams at him. "But won't you get in trouble for leaving?"
"I've done my deed," Remus says nonchalantly and leans closer. "I'll tell you a secret. I left early last year as well, and nobody cared."
Remus leads him out of the convention hall and into the metro again, taking his hand by his own volition before Sirius can even say anything. It's so sweet and lovely, Sirius wants to drop through the floor and rise high above the sky all at the same time. He doesn't even notice the escalator, staring instead at their interwoven hands and wondering how it can feel so right .
Fabian was never one for displays of public affection, so there was no handholding in Sirius' adult life. And even though this is nothing more than a kind, friendly gesture, Sirius can pretend for a couple of minutes that they aren't colleagues on a work trip. That they are a couple, going on holiday, and casually holding hands while they stroll through the city. They must look like it, he thinks and feels a little excited and ashamed at the same time.
They walk again through busy shopping streets, twisting and turning in the most curious ways. Remus points out things to him now and then – a coffee shop he liked to go to, a bakery that sells the best spit cake that has a name Sirius couldn't pronounce for the life of him, a nice smelling shop that sells natural soaps and oils made locally. He goes through narrow alleyways and passages, short-cutting in a way only someone who lived here could navigate, and Sirius loses any orientation of where they are going. It seems like they are walking in circles until suddenly they pop out onto a bustling street that goes a little up the hill. The crowded buildings open up to show the river and an old bridge that must be the Charles Bridge.
It looks packed from further away, but when they follow the crowd to the entrance, it is quite manageable. The weather is beautiful – beaming sun and no cloud in sight. Remus manoeuvres them past tourists taking pictures and vendors selling handmade jewellery to an open space at the ledge of the bridge.
"It's the Karlův most," Remus announces and Sirius nods. "One of the biggest sights in Prague. Locals mostly avoid it due to the masses of tourists – many other bridges have the same view and are less hectic."
Sirius leans on the ledge and looks over the river that is glittering in the sun. There are boats and catamarans slowly making their way over the water, some people are even on small canal boats, despite it being early spring. On the other side of the bridge looms a green hill, and a little to the right, a castle.
Remus hauls himself up in the ledge in a fluid motion, facing Sirius, and lights a cigarette. He looks stunning – coat hanging open, showing a white dress shirt he unbuttoned at the neck casually, curls gleaming golden against the sunlight. He hands the cigarette over to Sirius and blows the smoke away from him, smiling. He seems happy and carefree, enjoying himself, and Sirius suddenly doubts his ability to restrain himself if he has to spend a whole day next to Remus when he's in this sort of mood.
"The architect, when planning the bridge, has done a huge amount of research to find resources that would last hundreds of years," he begins to explain, and rubs an open palm against the stone of the ledge fondly. "When deciding which mortar to use, he ended up with one that is made of egg whites."
Sirius smiles, surprised. "Really? Egg whites?"
Remus nods earnestly. "Really. The trouble was – there weren't enough eggs for the whole bridge in Prague and the surrounding part of the country," he says with a grin. "So, Karl ordered every town and village to send eggs for the construction of the bridge."
Sirius exhales the smoke and hands the cigarette back to Remus, who takes his wrist instead and inhales the smoke directly from Sirius' fingers. He does it so casually, completely unbothered, and Sirius dies a little inside at the feeling of these slightly chapped lips touching the pads of his fingers.
"Unfortunately," Remus continues his story with a cheeky smile and Sirius has to concentrate to remember what they were talking about, "the townsfolk of Velvary didn't really understand what the eggs were for. And they decided, in order to avoid breakage, to send over… cooked eggs."
Sirius laughs mid-drag and has to cough a little. "Oh my God, no they didn't!"
Remus laughs too and shrugs. "At least that's what the legend says. Apparently, it wasn't for nothing, the cooked eggs made great breakfast food for the construction workers."
They walk over the bridge after that, and Remus takes him through an ordinary-looking street before he stops in front of a small alcove between two houses and motions for Sirius to come closer. What looked like an alcove from outside is actually an incredibly narrow staircase with a traffic light and Sirius gasps in shock.
"It's the narrowest street in Prague," Remus says. "But in all honesty, it's just a set of stairs. It's so narrow that only one person can go through at any time, so there is a light indicating of you are free to go or not."
Sirius makes big eyes at him, and they part for a moment, letting a group of tourists through.
"Do you want to go down?" Remus asks and nods to the light that turned green.
Sirius hesitates. "That's really cool, but I would rather not," he looks down the narrow, winding stairs and gulps. "I am a little claustrophobic."
Pictures fleet before his eyes of his mother's rage-distorted face, the wooden closet door, the dark and cramped space inside, a small line of light in between the locked doors. He shakes his head and is met with Remus' worried eyes.
"Sure, let's skip that," he says lightly and smiles encouragingly. Sirius expects questions or being made fun of for having such silly fears, but Remus just walks past the stairs and further down the street without mentioning anything.
They walk through an archway and into a cobbled yard. The building right across from the entrance is advertised to be the Franz Kafka Museum. Next to it is a café with a beautiful outdoor patio space, the wooden framework around it covered in flowery vines. There is also a museum shop and a small window selling handmade wooden toys.
But Remus leads him to the centre of the yard where a curious fountain sculpture is of two men peeing into a pond.
"It's one of many sculptures from David Černý in Prague," Remus says and smiles at Sirius. "Yes, they are all a bit peculiar."
Sirius chuckles and watches the sculpture shift. "Why is it moving? Is it timed?"
Remus tilts his head and then laughs suddenly. "No, actually, something much better." He points to a sign. "You can send a text message to this phone number and the sculptures will write it into the water with their stream."
Sirius drags a hand through his hair and laughs. "Thank God for technology!"
They make some space for a group of people taking pictures and Remus motions to the café. "Do you want a coffee?"
Sirius raises his eyebrows. "Is this your way of saying that you would like another coffee?"
Remus smirks. "Okay, you caught me. Let's sit down," he decides, and Sirius can't hide a smile. "Is outside okay or are you cold?" He gives Sirius a once-over and laughs at his frown.
"If we take a seat in the sun, I'll be fine."
Remus orders coffee for them and a piece of delicious raspberry cake to share. Sirius watches him order in Czech, not even bothering to look at the menu, and feels once again like he is part of some wonderful magic. Remus let him in so easily into something that is very clearly dear to him, and Sirius can't fathom how he is allowed to be part of it.
"Do you want to go into the Kafka Museum after?" Remus asks, squinting against the sun like a satisfied cat. "Have you read anything of his?"
Sirius hums and stirs his coffee. "I read The Metamorphosis and The Process in school," he offers. "But I don't remember much of it, to be honest. It's been a while."
Remus raises his eyebrows in surprise. "That must have been a properly fancy school you went to if you read Franz Kafka in class."
Sirius sighs and frowns involuntarily. "You have no idea," he says quietly. "I tick off every box of the privileged private schoolboy starter pack."
"Nothing wrong with private schools," Remus says and shrugs. "You didn't strike me like the type though."
Sirius looks up, suddenly interested. "Why not?"
He is not exactly ashamed of his heritage, but he isn't proud of it either like his parents are. It has never made any sense to him why a bunch of bigoted, inbred idiots decided they were the end-all-be-all of Britain's elite.
"You do sound quite posh," Remus relents and smiles. "But you're not stuck-up or arrogant, never flounder your wealth."
Sirius laughs a bitter laugh. "What wealth?" he asks rhetorically and then remembers that Remus doesn't know anything about his life history. "I was disowned when I was eighteen."
Remus hums and drums his fingers on the table. "Why?" he asks curiously, but then adds, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
Normally, Sirius wouldn't want to tell anyone. Nobody, besides Fabian and his family, actually knows. But for some reason, he feels like he can trust Remus, even though it's not exactly a highlight of his life.
"They didn't take my coming out well," he says and grimaces. "I was meant to marry some well-bred girl and have many little heirs to the family line. A gay son was not really on the agenda. Fortunately for them, they had my brother to rely on, so I was only a hindrance."
Remus gives him a sympathetic look and shakes his head in disappointment. "I'm sorry, that's horrible," he says gently. "I was worried to come out too. There was no large inheritance to be passed on, mind, but it was still a big deal for me back then."
Sirius almost chokes on his coffee and stares at Remus. "You're gay?" he asks and hopes that the panic in his voice can be passed off as surprise
He cocks his head and huffs, amused. Then gestures to himself in a sweeping motion. "I thought that was obvious," he says with a smile. "Wait, you really didn't know?"
They stare at each other, bewildered, and then burst out laughing. Sirius runs a hand through his hair and rubs his heated cheek. "I'm sorry. I actually thought you were a little homophobic at first," he admits.
Remus gives him a slow blink and shakes his head. "What? Me? How did I manage to fuck up that ?" Then he groans and lets his head hang low. "God, I made the worst first impression ever, didn't I?"
Sirius doesn't tell him, that he actually makes a really good first impression if one is able to look past his grumpy demeanour.
"When you first called me, you spoke to Fabian, and then you made it seem like… I don't know. It just sounded like you were a little condescending because you found out I wasn't straight," Sirius tries to explain.
Remus snorts. "I remember," he says in a clipped tone. "Sorry if it sounded like that. I was just a bit surprised to be accused of grooming you because of a phone call."
Oh. Well, this does sound like something Fabian would say. Sirius instantly feels ashamed and uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, he's…" he searches for the right word and gives up in the end, shrugging lightly. Talking to Remus about Fabian is the last thing he wants to do now.
"I gathered as much," Remus says coolly, glancing at Sirius and then quickly away. "How long have you two been together?"
Sirius sighs. "Four years," he admits reluctantly. "He was the one who helped me through all this disownment drama. I… I don't know if I would've made it without him."
Remus then looks at him intently, pressing his lips together and blindly reaches for his cigarettes. "He helped you with money?"
Sirius nods and sighs, unsure if this is a conversation he wants to have. But it seems to be inevitable, so best have it out of the way while they're on this topic anyway. "Still does, actually," he says in a small voice. "I don't have a penny to my name. And… well, I wanted to get a job out of school, but he convinced me I should go to uni first."
They sit in silence for a short while. Remus lets out a stream of white smoke through his nostrils and his eyes are stone-hard, jaw tense. He closes his eyes briefly and Sirius watches with weird fascination how his eyeballs dart around jerkily. Then he slowly opens them and looks at Sirius. His expression is calm again, almost airy, but his eyes are full of… something. Something Sirius can't really place. He leans forward and places his elbow in the middle of the small table, holding out the cigarette to Sirius, still watching him closely.
This motion… it seems so deliberate like there is a deeper meaning to it. Not the casual passing they've been doing for the past week. Sirius plucks the burning cigarette out of his hand without hesitation and Remus smiles softly.
"Come, I'd like to show you something."
They didn't end up going into the Kafka Museum. Remus said he's been a couple of times already and generally thinks Kafka was a delusional fool. 'Imagine, he thought that being in love would render him unable to write and create, so he deliberately produced so much relationship drama to be able to write about it!'
Sirius, frankly, has enough relationship drama in his own life, thank you very much. And after the conversation they've had, the last thing he wants to do is to be stuck in a dark, stuffy museum, instead of the bright sunlight outside.
He follows Remus down a staircase to the side of the museum building and eyes the bright-red sign that advertises a car engine museum sceptically. But when they get down, it's a hidden clearing between houses with a beautiful view of the river and the Charles Bridge. But most importantly – its completely deserted.
Remus walks up to a shallow ledge, ignoring the bench beside it, and hauls himself up on it, swinging his legs down on the opposite side, right above the shore. Sirius smiles and follows his example, leaning his face towards the sun and closing his eyes.
Their shoulders touch and Remus nudges his foot playfully. "I love this place," he says fondly. "It's so quiet here, barely anyone ever comes down, even though it's right in the heart of the city."
Just another example of Remus letting Sirius be part of something that was only his before. Sirius can vividly imagine a younger version of Remus, on his semester abroad, discovering this place at some point and coming back often. To sit and relax, or read, or maybe to call home and talk to his mom or sister.
"Thank you," Sirius says and there is an audible waver in his voice from the overwhelming emotion he's feeling. "Thank you for showing me."
Remus doesn't play it down or deny it. Instead, he says softly, "You are very welcome, Sirius." And it is perfect.
They sit like that in comfortable silence, basking in the sun, watching the masses of tourists flow over the bridge from below, smiling at passing boats with passengers that wave at them.
"It's the place, you know," Remus says suddenly. "My place of strength if you will. What's yours?"
"With you," Sirius says without thinking, too mellowed by the sun and gentle breeze. He hears a sharp intake of breath beside him, Remus' shoulder tensing against his.
And then he understands what he just blurted out. Fuck. Sirius exhales and closes his eyes in mortification, his thoughts running a million miles per hour. This is it. Please, God, let the ground swallow me whole, he thinks desperately.
But then Remus shifts and there are warm hands on his cheeks, turning his head. Sirius opens his eyes slowly and is met with Remus' intense gaze. His face is impossibly close now and his eyes, bright and green, are darting back and forth between Sirius'. Their breaths mix in the short distance between their faces, and Sirius shudders when Remus' tongue darts out quickly to wet his lips.
It is said that the moment before a kiss is always better than the kiss itself. Sirius never understood how that can possibly be – what is so special about it? Now he understands. It's electrifying, he can almost physically feel all his neurons firing at once, time seems to slow down. It's painful in the most delicious way – the anticipation before a first kiss.
Remus slowly leans even closer, warm breath ghosting over Sirius' lips, and hovers mere millimetres before them. Sirius can smell him, the warmth from the sun, the tang scent of his cigarettes, his heavy aftershave and something so distinctly Remus that it makes Sirius' stomach clench heavenly.
Then, after the longest few seconds of Sirius' life, he huffs, his shoulders sag and instead of his lips he presses his forehead against Sirius'.
And Sirius understands, he really does. It doesn't feel anticlimactic at all. If anything, it is a promise. A showcase of Remus' restraint and decency.
Sirius exhales slowly and answers the pressure of Remus' forehead with his own. He gently traces intricate shapes over Sirius' cheekbones with the pads of his fingers and Sirius places his hands hesitantly on his forearms, squeezing slightly.
"You can't say things like that." Remus' voice sounds pleading, his eyes are firmly shut.
"I'm sorry," Sirius whispers.
"Don't be," Remus says and there is a strength in his tone that Sirius admires. "Please, don't be sorry."
Sirius nods faintly, revelling in the feeling of Remus' head against his, his fingers on his cheeks, the wool of his coat beneath Sirius' palms. It's incredible, it's unbelievable, it's perfect. It's not enough.
"We will come back," Remus promises. "We will come back, right here, and you will say it again, and I will be able to kiss you."
Sirius smiles, knowing that even if Remus' eyes are closed, he can feel it with his hands.
"Yes," he promises in return. And with mind-numbing clarity, he knows that he really means it.
