"Lost time is never found again."

- Benjamin Franklin

With Sirius back in his life, Remus was happy. He was beyond happy, obviously - he was delighted, he was thrilled, he felt blessed by a thousand different deities. It was so good to have Sirius back, innocent, vindicated (even if only to a select few). Really, it felt so good that Remus sometimes managed to forget that Sirius had served time in Azkaban, that Peter Pettigrew had been allowed to sleep in a children's beds for years, that the man who was responsible for the murders of two young parents, his best friends, was out running free, that -

His quill snapped, and he took a deep breath. There was nothing for it; he'd have to start his research again in the morning. He resigned himself to going home and watching Sirius slowly drive himself mad, alternating between drinking and playing himself in checkers.

It hurt, knowing that Sirius had been through so much for no reason. It was easy to see, just from looking at him, that he had changed, and not for the better. He hoarded food, Remus knew. In his bedside drawer, in his pockets, anywhere he could shove a biscuit or three. And he had nightmares, ones that even Remus's shaking and pleading couldn't wake him from. He'd cry out until Remus's cool hand settled on his forehead, and even then he would whimper under Remus's touch. All he wanted was for Sirius to smile so freely like he once had, and yet he couldn't even soothe him in his sleep.

But it was better for Sirius to have nightmares of Azkaban than to still be locked away in there.

What could be better was Sirius's living situation. Apparently Dumbledore had instructed him to hide away at Remus's house in particular. Of course, Remus had welcomed him in. He wouldn't turn down Sirius just because he was a fugitive - he wasn't even as dangerous as Remus himself, after all. He'd been shown exactly where the towels were, how the vinyl was organized (Remus had never quite gotten tapes to work with magic), just how far to turn the shower knob before bringing it back so you could get the right temperature. Remus had told him that his cupboard was always open, and in fact did he want some tea and biscuits right now?

(Sirius did.)

And this was all well and good, except that it made it so much harder for Remus to put certain feelings aside.

Like the feeling he got when Sirius walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. He'd refused to cut his hair after his escape, and thank Merlin for it. The long, wild waves would let drip an inevitable bead of water that would trail its way down his neck, and Remus would only lose sight of it once it got lost in Sirius's little tuft of chest hair. It was only natural to try to follow its path down, though, and from there -

Remus felt like a schoolboy with a crush. He'd checked out towel-clad Sirius back then, too.

Thankfully, when he made it home from the library today, Sirius was fully clothed. He was settled at the kitchen table, nursing a glass of what looked like firewhisky. Ogden's, if Remus was forced to guess.

He'd hovered for slightly too long at the kitchen door, and Sirius nearly jumped out of his seat when he realized he was standing there. "Merlin, Moony, you'll give a man a heart attack sneaking around like that." A brief pause, then: "Have a drink, why don't you?"

"Oh, I don't know, I'm quite tired," he said, leaning into the 'exhausted werewolf' trope he'd abused for many years now.

"You're such a bore," Sirius whined. "Can you imagine what life would be like if I wasn't here to liven it up?"

"I can. It'd be so peaceful." But Remus sat down, giving in as he always seemed to do with Sirius.

"Good, good," Sirius said, already summoning a glass and pouring Remus a (surprisingly) reasonably-sized amount of firewhisky.

Remus was stretched thin trying not to go mad, and that was the only reason that he'd agreed to a quick drink. It would be much easier, of course, to ensure Sirius wasn't drinking too much if he was sitting there with him. Obviously, that was the only reason. Remus even summoned a loaf of bread to soak up some of the alcohol. He certainly didn't want to be hungover tomorrow.

Suddenly though, it wasn't one quick drink and they were each a few (small) glasses in. Neither of them had the tolerance of their late teens anymore.

They were reminiscing about those years, the mid- to late-seventies, when Sirius blurted out, "You look like such a poof with your mustache."

Feeling like he should have been offended, Remus didn't have it in him to get upset about it and instead shot back, "Yeah, well, you and your hair need to have a conversation and figure out if you're a fairy or not." The words felt heavy in his mouth, too rude of a joke.

Sirius ruffled that long, lovely - hair and said nonchalantly, "I've always been a fairy, Moony, you know that." Remus spluttered through his drink, and Sirius raised a single, regal brow. "Or you didn't know that. You couldn't tell?"

Finally Remus was able to speak, the burning of trying to breathe in Ogden's finest abated. "No, I bloody well couldn't tell - you were always with bloody Marlene or Susie or whoever -"

Sirius shrugged uncomfortably and grabbed the final piece of bread. He'd clearly expected that Remus had known. "Yeah, but… I mean, Remus, it was the seventies," he reminded him. "I couldn't be out. I can't be out now, not that I can even go outside. I just thought you knew." He knew Sirius was struggling with being in hiding, but he often forgot that he, Remus, could go wherever he pleased, while Sirius had gone from one prison to another with only a year of pseudo-freedom in between.

He came back to the moment suddenly, remembering what Sirius had said. "Did James know?" Remus asked after a moment thick with some kind of emotion he couldn't identify.

"No," said Sirius, "but James wasn't gay."

Pause.

He was so matter-of-fact about it. And Remus was absolutely baffled. By him knowing somehow, by his attitude about it, by just about everything right this moment.

Pause.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out.

"What do you mean by that?"

Sirius cocked his head to the side, looking quite like a curious dog in that moment. "I wouldn't have called you a poof if I didn't think you were one, that'd be homophobic, yeah?"

"I- how- that's still homophobic!" He knew he was ignoring the important part of that sentence, but he couldn't help it. Was Sirius an idiot?

Sirius leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. Goddamn him and his stupid arms. They were nothing like they had been when Sirius was playing Quidditch, but that was alright. Sirius was an adult now who had suffered malnutrition for some time. Somehow, even the small weight he had put back onto his body made him disgustingly handsome. "I'm saying it. It can't be homophobic." Yes, Sirius might be an idiot.

Remus tried to get words out, and he got as far as "Internalized!" before giving up and resting his face on the table between them.

He felt a hand gently tussle his hair. It was a motion Sirius had performed many times over the years, when Remus was in the hospital wing or having a horrible day or got too far up his own - had Sirius done this same thing with James? He screwed his eyes shut and simply couldn't imagine it. James wasn't gay. James wasn't gay. He thinks - he knows - but he's gay, he doesn't care - he doesn't care - The casual acceptance was what was killing him. Even if Sirius was gay, how could he just… accept Remus like this? No one ever had.

Except, that was a lie, wasn't it? Sirius had accepted him as a werewolf. All of his friends had. And little Harry Potter had, and Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley too, he thought. Dumbledore accepted him; he let him attend and then even teach at Hogwarts. So maybe, just maybe, given that Sirius himself was, his only living friend could accept him as… gay, too.

He scraped his head off the table somehow, so that he could look Sirius in the eyes. "It doesn't matter," Remus said quietly. "Even if I wanted to try at some secret relationship, I couldn't even get a date with a man, I don't think." Who would want to be with someone who couldn't even hold down a job? It wasn't like women had ever expressed an interest in him, either. "Why should I put myself through that? Why should I have to suffer? When I know there's no point?"

"You don't know there's no point," Sirius said gently. His voice was softer and more reassuring than Remus had heard it in years outside of his recoveries from the full moon. "You'll never know if you don't even try."

"How am I supposed to try?" he asked drily. "I wouldn't even know where to begin. Who would I even ask?" He knew the answer he wanted to hear but didn't dare hope too hard.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Me, you dunce." Despite the insult, Remus felt butterflies start dancing in his stomach. He didn't say anything, though, until Sirius raised his brows and meaningfully thrummed his fingers across the table.

"Alright." Remus glanced nervously at the calendar hanging on his kitchen wall. He had to be decisive. Say it before he lost his nerve. "So, what are you doing next Saturday?"

Sirius snorted. "I'm having dinner with you, obviously."

"You have dinner with me every Saturday," he pointed out, quite stupidly.

"Food is the key to a man's heart." And then Sirius winked and Remus felt like he was turning scarlet from head to toe. Sirius laughed. "Oh, don't be so uptight, it's not like I said it's the key to your-"

"That's repulsive," Remus interrupted, and it didn't even sound a little bit like he meant it.

"You think that's repulsive? I could have said so much worse!" He paused and put on an almost predatory smile, head tilted just so, wild eyes looking at Remus like he was going to - to ravish him. "You know, there wasn't a single thing to eat in this kitchen until you walked in." Then Sirius barked out a laugh, head tossed back, and went back to drinking his firewhisky like he hadn't just absolutely destroyed his best friend.

He was lucky he hadn't been drinking anything or he felt like he might've died. He wanted to rest his face against the cool wood of the table again but settled instead for just looking down at it. "You're right, that was much worse." The blush had just started to fade, too, and now he felt hot again. He chanced a glance back at Sirius; the other man's cheeks were pink, but he didn't think it was with embarrassment. More likely amusement. He was staring at Remus again, but not in the horrible predatory way. This was almost… yearning?

He leaned forward, and Remus could smell his shampoo (well, his shampoo, too; they did share). It was cheap, but combined with the scent and experience of having Sirius so close, it was heavenly. "I- Remus?" He thought he saw Sirius's eyes flick down to his lips, but it could've been wishful thinking.

His breath still hitched, though. He leaned forward unconsciously, not realizing until he felt his elbow against the table. "Yeah?"

Sirius seemed to be thinking deeply about something. Remus waited patiently, leaned forward in a way that should've felt ridiculous. His arse wasn't even in his seat. "I'm gonna kiss you now," said Sirius finally, and then Remus felt breathless.

He realized that Sirius was waiting for an answer, waiting for Remus to tell him that yes, he wanted this. Remus did want it, terribly, but he couldn't get the words out for a moment. "Okay," he said, wincing internally at how unenthusiastic it sounded.

But Sirius seemed to understand. "Okay," he said, and then he leaned forward and his lips were on Remus's and he was wrong, he hadn't been breathless before, but he was now. His head swam as he tried to think of words for how this felt so that he could have them later - chapped, he thought first, but then, warm - no, hot - and then hot but in a completely different way.

Sirius's hand came up to the back of Remus's neck, and that was when he let out a sigh that was more of a whimper that only had Sirius kissing him deeper. Remus's mouth opened and he brought his hands to Sirius's arms, those goddamn arms.

Too soon, Sirius pulled away, and it took everything Remus had not to whimper again. (He was an adult!)

"I used to tell you all the time, but I didn't know how much until later," Sirius said. "In Azkaban."

Remus couldn't think of any context for that. "Tell me what?"

Sirius's gaze was intense, but Remus couldn't let himself look away. "I really love you." So matter-of-fact again, like this was a perfectly normal thing to say. But, maybe it was. He thought to his own school days and how casually he had said the words to Sirius but none of his other friends. He didn't know which of them had started it, but they had certainly said it quietly and often to one another: I love you. Had they both been confessing something all that time, something that wouldn't be resolved for almost two decades?

What if he had just been brave and decisive back then? Would he have fought harder against the idea of Sirius's betrayal? What could he have changed for the better if he had just - Sirius was waiting for a response, he realized. His eyes held the slightest bit of worry. "I love you, too," he said, and then pulled Sirius back in by the arm for another kiss.

It was no use thinking of lost time and lost opportunities, Remus thought. They had now, and they had the entire future.

WC: 2417