Translator's note - I said it once and I'll say it again: I didn't write this awesome fanfic! That privilege goes to Nicky Lupin, and you can read her original in Spanish here: s/13110959/1/De-trajes-y-chicos-atractivos
OF CUTE DUDES AND SUITS
Magnus passed calmly down Regent Street, walking without hurry, enjoying the high class commercial street. He looked at shop windows and occasionally went into one of the stores. You could never have too many clothes, right? At least not when you were the marvelous and always well dressed Magnus Bane.
It hadn't even been two years since he'd been in London and, to be frank, he'd decided not to set foot on the great island for a good time. Certainly a few decades. But his fine (and green) friend, Ragnor Fell, had called him the day before.
"I have a job for you," he'd said. "A few complicated spells that very few warlocks know how to do," he added. But Magnus made him beg a little more. "Dammit, Magnus. I need you. Happy? Now get your conceited ass over here."
With an enormous smile and an even bigger suitcase, Magnus took the first flight that left New York for England.
Having just stepped onto London ground and as, apparently, his host couldn't meet him until night (such a hurry for him to get here and then he didn't even deign to look for him at the airport. What a friend he was), he sent his luggage to his friend's house with an unconcerned gesture and set course for Regent Street. He had the sudden desire to go shopping.
After a couple of hours and with his hands overflowing with bags from different stores, he began to find himself tired and thought it time to drop by his friend's house, whether he was there or not. He'd take a hot, relaxing bath and then one or two cups of wine.
But then a fantastic black shirt with a white crescent moon pattern scattered over the front captured his attention, causing him to nearly hit his forehead on the front window of the shop.
He was asking himself whether or not he really needed to buy the shirt when he lifted his vision a little and saw something inside the shop that ensnared him completely.
Two seconds later he was already inside and hadn't moved his eyes from the young man. He had long black hair tied back in a low ponytail. Dark hair, just like he liked. And his features… what to say about that glorious face? To simply say it was beautiful was leaving it short.
The boy was a total Adonis. He could work as a model for whatever sculptor or painter had enough talent to capture such beauty. Any composer or poet would find, just by looking at him for a few moments, the inspiration for multiple songs and poems.
He'd only spent a few moments watching him and already, sinful thoughts rose in Magnus.
The young man rummaged through a pile of shirts, concentrating hard, moving hangers back and forth, stopping now and then and observing an item with a critical eye only to, a moment later, resume his furious search.
There was in him, in his posture, in his gestures, an aristocratic demeanor. Magnus subconsciously searched him for the marks of a Nephilim, but he found none and that calmed and excited him in equal parts.
He was British, so he was surely part of a wealthy or noble family, Magnus supposed.
Whatever the case, he needed to approach him and talk to him. He looked around and didn't see anyone with him. No presumed girlfriend, or mother or friends. Perfect.
He walked towards him and stood at his side. The guy didn't even seem to notice his presence.
"Nice choice," Magnus said, pointing at the light blue shirt the boy was holding. "A bit classic and boring, if you ask me. But the traditional, after all, never goes out of fashion."
"What?" He looked a bit confused.
"Although, if you're the type to go for something bolder, this shirt with floral print seems to be all the rage now. I've seen at least four of five guys with a shirt like that today," he said, taking another off the clothes horse.
"You understand clothes? Fashion and all that?"
"I am fashion." Magnus wasn't sure why he'd let out that pronouncement. Perhaps it was that the boy's bright bright eyes had stunned him. Dark hair and light eyes. Just how he liked them. A shame that they were gray and not blue, but you couldn't always have everything.
The attractive young man looked him up and down with a strange expression on his face. Perhaps assessing whether what Magnus was wearing could be considered fashionable. It certainly was, but it wasn't Magnus's fault if other people wouldn't understand or recognize good taste.
Today he'd decided to dress with a look similar to Rod Stewart's in a performance Magnus had watched on television a few days ago: shiny leather pants, a black silk long-sleeved shirt and his chest bared by a leopard print tank top below.
"What would you wear to a wedding?" asked the young man. Magnus noted a hint of desperation in his voice.
"I need more information. Is the celebration during the day or does it take place at night? Is it the high gala of, I don't know, a noble, or a simple social act? For instance, I remember that at one wedding I went to in… ahem, a few years ago" - forty, to be exact, but this guy didn't need to know that - "I chose a grey morning coat with a purple vest and matching tie. I should also mention that this was the queen's wedding…"
"A morning coat?" the boy interrupted. "That seems excessive. No, normal dress. Elegant but simple. It's a friend's wedding.
"Normal dress." Magnus chewed on those words, a bit disappointed. Why did people always clip their wings? If he let him, he could turn this boy in jeans and a black shirt into a prince. And he would be stunning. And then he would take off his clothes. But that was a different story. Best not to go down that path. "Got it. Okay, let's see."
With great enthusiasm, Magnus began looking through the shop, rummaging here and there and analyzing everything: fabrics, colors, patterns, footwear and accessories, and all of the possible combinations.
He'd made it clear that he didn't want anything excessive like a morning coat or tails. But there was much more to choose from. Plain or striped trousers, a double breasted jacket or blazer or tuxedo; he even took a quick look through the sharkskin suits.
Magnus went along taking out pants, shirts, vests and jackets, combining them and then handing them over to the boy, who disappeared with them into the fitting rooms. A while later he returned and Magnus gave him more clothes.
With barely a word they created between them a simple communication based on looks, satisfied head nods and, yes, also a skeptical face on the part of the dark-haired one. Unfortunately for Magnus, he even came to outright reject a pair of his marvelous selections, like a Mandarin collar suit and another a naval-style double breasted jacket.
Then there came a moment when the attractive young stranger took a while to come back from the fitting rooms.
Magnus had found more shirts and vests that would suit him fabulously, so he made his way to the rooms at the back.
"Hello? I have more clothes for you to try on," he said loudly as he entered the large circular zone designed for the fitting rooms. He looked around, hoping to see the black-haired man leaning out from behind one of the closed curtains.
"Oh! Yes, I'm coming." The voice came from his right. He walked towards it.
"Who is it?" said another masculine voice that came from the same place. Magnus stopped, confused.
"Hey!" the young man exclaimed, coming out from behind one of the curtains. "I think we've got it. Thanks so much."
"We've?" Magnus was still confused.
Then, from behind the same curtain as the boy had just emerged from, another young man stuck out his head. Timid, at first.
"Sirius, who are you talking to?"
He then came out of the fitting room and stood by the side of the black-haired man. He had light chestnut-colored hair. His skin was pale and in the little of it left exposed you could see a few scars. Some old and nearly imperceptible. Others more recent and reddish. His eyes were brown, but of a pretty golden tone, like honey. He was handsome, in his way. A different way than his companion. And he was wearing one of the suits Magnus had chosen and given to the boy named Sirius.
"Oh, yeah. He…" Sirius pointed to him.
"Magnus, at your service," and Magnus did a small and elegant flourish with a hand, accompanied by a small bow.
"He's been helping me pick out clothes."
"Oh. Well… thank you."
And the two friends exchanged a look.
Just my luck.
...thought Magnus as he witnessed that look in which nothing and everything was said. It was then that he really took in the two young men. They were both a bit disheveled, their lips red and swollen and their cheeks blushed. Their breathing was also a bit quicker than normal, as if they'd been running or working out.
Magnus smiled. He didn't know why, but the image of two young and handsome boys making out in the fitting rooms of a mens' suit shop was most exciting. And tender, too.
"Is this your choice?" asked Magnus, gesturing to the dark blue suit the brown-haired one was wearing.
"Mmm." He looked at the suit, indecisive.
"It suits you. But I loved how the other one looks. The maroon one."
"Ah, the burgundy. Yes. With the black shirt, right?" Magnus was really enjoying this day, the disappointment of seeing his Adonis with another man forgotten.
"Yeah! C'mon, Remus, put it on again, so he can see it," Sirius urged him enthusiastically.
"Again? Is that really necessary?" Remus looked tired.
"C'mon, c'mon. Don't complain," Sirius told him as he pushed him around to the inside of the fitting room. "Wait here," he said to Magnus before winking an eye, and he disappeared as well.
"Um, are you staying?" he heard Remus say.
"Of course. I'm not planning on going anywhere," declared Sirius.
"You wouldn't know what to do with the sight of me taking off my clothes."
"Then why don't you let me be the one to take them off you…"
"Be quiet!"
Magnus let out a sigh, suddenly feeling a familiar nostalgia. Ah, love. And it had already been a while since his last relationship.
He left the garments he was still holding on the counter and sat on the fluffy sofa in the center of the wide room.
Giggles and whispers escaped the fitting room, along with, once in a while, some protest on Remus's part, accompanied at the moment by a scandalous, almost canine, laugh from Sirius.
A couple of minutes later, the two emerged, grinning. Sirius didn't take his eyes off Remus. He almost seemed to want to eat him up with one look. With one look and something more, judging from his expression, since at that moment he was biting his lower lip.
The brown-haired man, on the other hand, smiled but looked a little uncomfortable, out of place. He didn't stop moving his arms and shoulders and picking and pulling his suit here and there. Like he was wearing someone else's clothes and didn't quite feel comfortable.
"Doesn't he look great?" Sirius exclaimed.
"Doesn't the color look too bold to you? It draws a lot of attention," Remus said at the same time, rather unsure.
"That's the point," said Magnus, standing and admiring the outfit. It did look very good on Remus. It had been a fantastic choice and Magnus felt proud.
"You're going to look almost as good as I do. Almost, but not quite. At the end of the day, I'm the best man, so I should be the brightest of all."
"Yes, well. I think you're forgetting the bride and groom," said Remus, still not taking his eyes off the suit. Then he lowered his voice and added, "Seriously, I can't afford this. It's been a waste of time coming here, Sirius. I already told you. Not even in my dreams could I buy a suit like this."
"And I'm telling you again, I'll buy it for you."
"You're crazy if you think I'm going to allow that."
"It's a present, Rem."
"No."
"I want to do it. And I'm going to do it. Okay?"
"I disown you as my lover." In the face of that comment from Remus, Sirius burst into guffaws of laughter. "It's not funny! Don't you see how uncomfortable, difficult and humiliating all this is for me? Put yourself in my place for a moment. We're not talking about a t-shirt or a book. We're talking about a suit that costs…" Remus looked for the price tags on each article of clothing. "Merlin! This is a fortune. Sirius, I'm not going to let you…"
"Okay! Okay. Alright. I get it. We'll do this: I buy this suit, for myself. I lend it to you for James and Lily's wedding and then you give it back to me. Better?"
"Well…" Remus still seemed to disagree.
"Dammit, Lunatic. It's so hard to please you. Just say yes."
"Fine. You always get your way."
Magnus had followed the conversation, and the ensuing staring contest, as attentively as one watches a game of tennis, glancing from one to the other.
It was fun.
"Great. Now that we have the suit, all we need is the rest," announced Magnus, taking advantage of the fact that the pair had fallen silent.
"The rest? What rest?" Remus asked, alarmed.
"Shoes, tie, cufflinks, handkerchief... Calm down, I'll handle it."
"But weren't we done already?" Remus looked to be at the point of tears. Shopping certainly wasn't one of his favorite pastimes. "Can't I go with my shoes?" he said, pointing at the ones he'd left inside the fitting room.
"NO!" Sirius and Magnus exclaimed in unison.
"Fine," Remus replied. Hanging his head, he walked dejectedly back to the fitting room and sat on the stool inside it. "I'll wait for you here."
An hour later, the three emerged from the shop. Magnus and Sirius smiled with satisfaction while Remus looked in need of a bed, a sofa or any other soft piece of furniture to fall onto.
"It's been a pleasure, boys. But all good things end and now I have to go," said Magnus by way of farewell.
"You're leaving already?" asked Sirius. "Why don't you have a drink with us? Or come over for dinner? I insist, as thanks for all your help today. Without you I would be lost looking through shirts, trying to find the perfect outfit for Remus."
"It sounds very tempting, but they're waiting for me to eat dinner. And thank you for this marvelous evening. Clothes and cute guys, what more could I ask?"
"Then goodbye, I suppose," Sirius concluded, extending a hand.
"Goodbye," replied Magnus, shaking it. He did the same to Remus.
"Thank you so much for everything, Magnus," said the young man, giving him a handsome smile. Magnus's heart did a flip. No wonder Sirius seemed so captivated by the guy. He himself would love to be able to lose himself in a smile that lovely and sincere.
"Good luck, boys."
And those were the last words from Magnus before turning and setting course for the north, towards his friend Ragnor's house. He was about forty minutes late, and was already mentally preparing himself for one of his old friend's talks about the importance of punctuality.
Sirius and Remus walked calmly through the streets, unhurried to return home. They sat on a bench to most conveniently drink the coffees they'd just ordered to go from a nearby café.
"You have a bit of foam on your lip," Sirius commented, looking at Remus. "Hang on, I'll take care of it."
And without giving Remus time to react, Sirius had already leaned over him and was kissing him tenderly. Then he passed his tongue, slowly, over the edge of his lips to lick off the foam.
Remus shuddered.
"We're in the street."
"Yup. And?"
"And someone could see us."
"Yup. And?"
"Forget it."
"Don't get angry, Rem. So what if they see us?" Sirius came closer to him. With a hand he brushed a lock of hair from his forehead and then caressed his face. "Are you embarrassed for us to be seen together?"
"No! It's not that. It's… I don't feel comfortable with shows of affection in public."
"Look, there isn't anyone around, see?" Sirius moved close to his lips again, joining them with Remus's.
They kissed slowly, languidly, forgetting the cold, the coffee, the street and the world. When they separated, Remus leaned his head against Sirius's shoulder.
"Thanks for the suit."
"What suit? That marvelous burgundy suit that I bought for myself today, are you talking about that one?"
"Yes, the same. Hey…"
"What's up?"
"That guy, Magnus. I have the feeling that if I hadn't been there he wouldn't have hesitated in flirting with you.
"Really?"
"Yeah. You didn't notice?"
"The truth is, I didn't. I was pretty concentrated on looking for clothes. Really? So he fancies me, huh," Sirius said, puffing out his chest with pride and self-love.
"Oh, shut up. No need to build yourself up so much," said Remus, giving him a light poke. "Here I thought I would only have to worry about girls, and it turns out I also have to pay attention to boys as well. Too much competition."
"Are you jealous, my darling Lunatic?"
"No. I'm just stating a fact. You're too attractive. You'd best not leave the house alone."
"I'm offended. Trust me a bit more."
"I trust you. The rest of the world, not so much."
"I think fatigue is making you say nonsense."
"Or the cold." Remus went back to shivering. "The temperature has dropped a lot. Maybe we should go before we catch a cold. If we get sick, James will never forgive us."
"Yeah, I think I remember him forbidding us from leaving the house or something like that. And if it hadn't been for you almost forgetting the wedding was this weekend and not having bought anything yet…"
"I lost track of time," Remus explained in a tired voice.
"...we'd still be in my house. In bed. Or on the sofa, or even on the living room floor…" Sirius purred sweetly, his lips almost in Remus's ear, who smiled immediately at the memory of the last few hours lived in the company of Sirius after he'd proposed.
"Let it not be said that we don't obey James."
"Right? Hey, I'm a bit hungry, how about you? There's a restaurant around here where the lasagna is to die for. An Italian called Gloria's. Sound good?"
"Of course."
Sirius jumped to his feet and lent a hand to Remus, who lifted an eyebrow and contemplated the hand for a few seconds, as if deciding whether or not the gesture was too ridiculous. Finally, he took it.
"I feel like a damsel," said Remus as he stood up.
Sirius didn't say anything but gave a small bow and kissed him on the hand. Remus burst into laughter.
With his free hand he gathered the bags with the articles of clothing they'd bought that afternoon.
It no longer mattered that they were in the street and that anyone could see them. He decided he didn't want to let go of Sirius's warm grip. He laced his fingers with his own and gave a little squeeze. Sirius returned it.
And thus, together, holding each other, holding on to love, to life, the rest of the world stopped mattering. They were the only ones who mattered. Them and a delicious lasagna, of course. Let's not forget the lasagna.
THE END