Chapter two! Look at me go! Please leave a review and let me know what you like/dislike and want to see more of. I'd love to hear it!

James watches as Sirius plucks a tune on his guitar. His favorite one. A metallic black Les Paul he'd inherited from his brother. It's a good tune. A good melody.

A new one.

James wonders when Sirius created it. They used to always play together. Create together. Write songs together.

Now...

James takes a swig of his beer. And just watches.

Tonight, Sirius is clad in leather pants and a threadbare gray sweater that hangs off his shoulders. James is pretty sure Sirius has been wearing the same sweater since they were fourteen. Back when they first met each other in that underground punk club.

Sirius had conned his way in, at fourteen he was almost six foot, and with some smudged eyeliner and a fishnet shirt, he was passable for twenty-one. If only just.

James' friend's older brother worked in the kitchen and snuck him in the back door in exchange for James writing his college history papers for the rest of the term.

James remembers seeing Sirius. Standing there at the bar. So obviously uncomfortable, excited, riding a high that his stupid plan to sneak into the club had worked.

They'd locked eyes stumbling over drink orders, both recognizing each other as underage imposters. Both determined to hold each other's secret.

James remembers seeing himself, awkward and adventurous and determined, reflected in Sirius's face.

They'd coughed up their first shot of vodka right together, launched themselves into the mosh pit, thrown up in the back alley, and watched the sun rise over the concrete expanse of New York City while they feasted on half of the Mcdonald's menu together.

And they'd been inseparable ever since.

Sirius catches his eye. "What do you think?"

What did James think?

Sirius is his best friend. Has been his best friend. Since he was fourteen.

Sirius is like his brother.

His brother.

You don't fuck your brother.

So why—

The sweater slips a little further off Sirius' shoulder and James can't tear his eyes away from the contrast of pale skin and the inky black artwork. The design becoming ever more apparent with every inch that sweater gives and suddenly James just wants to rip that sweater off him.

"James?" Sirius asks, his voice soft and a little scratchy from show last night. "Jay?"

"What?"

Sirius smirks. "I asked what you thought of the riff?"

James tears his eyes away from Sirius' shoulder.

"It was good. Is there more?"

Sirius shakes his head. Shaggy black hair falling about his face.

"Naw, I was just playing around last night. That's all I got."

"We never get to just play around anymore." James mutters. Then stops. Thinking of how that sounds. Playing around. With Sirius.

Sirius adds a few more notes to the riff and then stops, setting his guitar down. "What's up Jay?"

And James doesn't know what to say.

"Is it Lily? Are you guys okay? Rem said something the other day about you guys trying an open relationship…"

"Yeah." James chews on his lip again. "We did. I mean, we are."

Sirius just eyes him, waiting it out.

He too, like Lily, knows James.

And he knows that James will get it out, eventually.

James opens his mouth. But nothing comes out.

Why is this so much harder with Sirius?

They tell each other everything.

There are no secrets between them. There never have been.

They've both seen each other at their lowest, wallowing in the filth.

This shouldn't be this hard.

But it is.

James closes his mouth. Chew on his lip some more.

He had no problem just blurting it out to Remus. No real problem even with Peter overhearing them, though he would have preferred for that to go differently.

But Sirius—

Sirius shifts, his long legs rearranging themselves so he's sitting criss-cross on the floor in front of James. He yanks the sleeve of his sweater back up. Reaches over, fingers brushing James' as he steals a swig of James' beer.

Sirius is always a little quieter when it's just the two of them.

When it's just the Marauders, Remus and Peter, he's a little more…saucy. A good descriptive word for Sirius.

When he's on stage, in front of a screaming crowd of fans, it's like he's on fire. He burns so bright. Has so much energy and light and exuberance.

But when it's just the two of them, James gets to see a side of Sirius no one else ever sees.

And he cherishes that.

They're so rarely alone together these days, what with the touring and rehearsals and studio time and traveling and Lily—

He misses this. Misses Sirius.

Misses this time together when he feels entirely himself. There's no pressure to make jokes for Peter or be on top of his shit for Remus or cater to Lily's feelings.

He doesn't have to be bright, or brilliant, or bold or brash or anything.

He just has to sit here in silence while Sirius drinks his beer and messes around on his guitar and lets him sort his thoughts out.

"I told Lily," he starts, "and Remus and Peter I guess," Sirius isn't even looking at him, he's carefully writing out the riff he'd just played in a small black notebook. But James knows he had Sirius' full attention.

It's something in the way Sirius cocks his head, like a dog, in his direction. The way his body is angled toward James, The way his hand brushes James' fingers in solidarity when he reaches for the beer. The way he absorbs the words with a subtle nod and then his entire body stills as he waits for James to continue.

"…that I think I'm…bisexual."

Sirius absorbs the words again. And then shifts.

He uncurls his legs, rising to his feet and, taking a single step towards James, folding himself onto the small couch next to him.

And there, with their knees resting against each other, and their shoulders pressed together, and the scratchy feel of Sirius' stupid fucking falling apart sweater, James feels all his awkward, anxious energy disappear.

"Does it feel good?" Sirius asks him, his eyes locked onto James' lips, "to say it out loud?"

James ponders the question.

Sirius had such a different response than Remus and Peter who just acted like they expected this. Like they already knew. And maybe they did but still-

He'd been hoping for a little more... fanfare.

This is big for him. This was his coming out. It took bravery and courage and a lot of time in fucking therapy for him to get to this point.

It does feel good.

"I feel…lighter."

Sirius nods.

"Lighter…and more…myself."

As he says the words, he realizes they're true. His lips break out into an unconscious smile.

Sirius' eyes shift to his face, as if the smile had been what he was watching for.

"Good." Sirius sighs, relaxing into the couch, and into James, the weight of his body, the heat of his skin, blanketing James as their shoulders press together, "That's all I care about."

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