Back for a little update! I haven't stopped writing, just got a little caught up with work.
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"How was the show?" Lily's voice filters through the phone and James feels his lips curling into a smile.
"It was insane Lil, I wish you could have been there."
As soon as he says the words, James realizes—
He doesn't mean it.
Shaggy hair, deep brown eyes, desperate kisses trailing down his—
So different than Lily.
And it never would have happened if Lily had been there.
"How was the case?" He asks quickly. Knowing that Lily will launch into her work.
And she does.
Lily is his dream woman. And his dream woman is gorgeous, smart, and sophisticated. She's also a junior lawyer at an up-and-coming law firm in New York and works about eighty hours a week.
They used to live together in their shoebox apartment in Soho but now—
It's basically a long-distance relationship.
He sees her once a month, the rest of the time he's either on the road, she's at work, or their sleep schedules are fucked and one of them is passed out on the couch while the other is watching Netflix.
It's great when it's great.
And Lily is great.
But—
He's acutely aware of the fact that their relationship works because of the space between them.
That they fight constantly when left alone together for over a week, like that time he surprised her with a romantic getaway to Vermont and they got trapped in a lace-filled bed and breakfast together while rain poured for five days straight. He'd never yelled so much in his life. The Marauders actually had to cancel a show after that trip because his voice was shot.
He loves Lily because she is gorgeous, smart, and sophisticated. But he's…not. And he knows too, that Lily would not approve of so much shit that happens on the road. And that while they agreed to an open relationship, while they agreed that he should and could experiment, and while Lily encouraged him to…
He doesn't want to talk to her about Josh.
He doesn't want to gush about how it made him feel.
About how fuck hot it was.
How much he wanted him.
How much he wanted to fuck him.
And not Lily.
The tinted windows of the hotel block the bright sunlight of the late afternoon, keeping them swathed in darkness as they crowd around the door.
"Fuck." Remus mutters, staring out at the mob of screaming fans that have clustered around the entrance of the hotel.
Fuck is right.
James chews on the inside of his lip. Eyeing the unruly crowd.
Their tour bus pulls in front of the doors. The crowd ratchets up to a new decibel of noise.
The high-pitched screaming pierces his head and he winces.
None of this is helping the pounding headache he woke up with.
He's nauseous and hungover and despite waking up—alone—at two in the afternoon, exhausted.
Josh dipped before he even woke up. Left a note with his number on it. And something about the whole interaction makes James sick.
Lily phoning mid-blow job was rough. His realization about not wanting to talk to Lily about Josh was rougher.
He knows she gave him permission. Knows that it's an open relationship. Knows that she wants this for him.
But something about it, in the harsh light of day, makes him feel like shit.
Sirius appears at his shoulder. Dark undereyes, crumpled clothes, shaggy hair still wet from the shower. Somehow, he looks worse than James.
"Late night?" Sirius asks, a knowing smile on his lips as he looks James up and down.
James glares at him.
He needs a fucking cup of coffee before he's ready to deal with Sirius' shit. "Could ask you the same fucking thing."
Outside the window, the valet finishes loading the last of their luggage into the undercarriage of the bus and waves to them.
It's time.
"Come on," Peter says. He sounds confident but his face chalk white. "It'll be fine."
James' stomach clenches as Peter pushes open the door and the blinding white sunlight hits them.
The noise is deafening.
Like an ice pick straight to James' temple.
The crowd surges around them. The red velvet ropes proving as useless as they looked.
People pressing, shoving, grabbing. Hands coming from every direction, clawing at him for a chance to say 'I touched James Potter.' Cameras flash against the white sunlight and James can't see shit.
Sirius clasps onto his hand. Hard. Fingers gripping him tight.
Together they push through their fans. Blinding following Remus and Peter.
And it feels like just the two of them against the world.
The door slams shut and Sirius crumples. Collapsing on the couch. He's wearing that stupid sweater again and someone, a fan James assumes, has ripped it. The left sleeve is torn at the seam in the shoulder. Dangling loosely around his elbow.
James double-checks that the tour bus door is locked and tells the driver to get them the fuck out of here before slumping next to Sirius on the couch.
He's shaking.
James realizes.
His entire body is shaking.
Their knees, thighs, shoulders, pressed together.
"Are you okay?" James asks, staring at Sirius' hands, long elegant fingers, curled into fists. Nails digging into his palms. His knuckles white.
"He's claustrophobic," Remus says, emerging from the bathroom, face dripping wet. He wipes at it roughly with his sleeve. "He doesn't like crowds, being touched."
James looks up at Remus. Sees something in his face, softening, and takes Sirius' hand in his.
Making soothing circles with his thumb against Sirius' palm.
"I'm fine." Sirius snaps. Not looking fine. And yanks his torn sleeve back up.
But he doesn't let go of James' hand.
Remus raises an eyebrow. His warm brown eyes moving from Sirius' drawn face to his hand, clinging to James'.
"Whatever," Remus says, walking past them to sit in the passenger seat next to the driver.
James looks to Peter, who shrugs.
"Can we stop and get some fucking coffee?" Peter calls out, asking the driver, but really asking Remus.
"That's our first fucking stop," Remus calls back, not turning around. Not looking at them. Pretending to fiddle with the radio.
Finally, the sound kicks in, the radio DJ lining up the song that's sitting at number one on the charts on America's Top 40.
A familiar chord vibrates through the speakers and Sirius stills.
As their latest release, Blue Boy, fills the bus.
Peter laughs. Eyes dancing as he cheers. Remus turns, shock on his face.
"Holy fuck." He says, voice giving way to Peter's contagious laughter.
And the four of them stare at each other in awe.
As their song plays across the nation.
They stop for dinner at a food truck in what seems like the middle of nowhere as they make their way from the east coast to the west.
James takes his paper plate of tacos and awkwardly climbs onto the picnic table next to Remus.
"You okay?" He asks. Because Remus has been a little off all day.
Remus looks up, the setting sun catching in his brown eyes. Making them glow in a way that stirs something deep in James' heart.
"Yeah," Remus gives him a small smile. A concession to his frigid behavior on the bus. "I'm okay."
They sit in silence for a while, inhaling their tacos and beer before Remus breaks it. "Did you talk to Sirius?"
James shoots him a glance, eyes wandering over to where Sirius and Peter are charming the taco truck workers.
"About the…bi thing?"
Remus snorts at him. "Yes James, about the bi thing."
"Yeah."
Remus nods. Accepting this.
"He wasn't fazed by it."
"No, he wouldn't be." Remus sighs, takes a swig of his beer. "I just…I don't think I was ready to see him with…"
James stops, "wait, back up, we didn't—"
"No, no I know." Remus says, his hand resting on James' arm. "It's not…the sex."
Remus looks over towards Sirius, shamelessly flirting with the cook in the back while Peter tells jokes to the cashier with long glossy hair. Sirius catches his gaze and throws him a smile, a casual wave.
Remus takes another long drink of his beer. "I've seen Sirius fuck other people, even when we were together…I knew he was cheating on me."
"Sirius wouldn't—" James starts. Out of basic, blind, loyalty to his best friend.
Remus silences him with a look.
They both know Sirius would.
Did.
"Sex doesn't mean anything to him," Remus says, leaning in towards James. "Like, it should. It means something to you, to me, but Sirius doesn't…get that. So, it never mattered when he fucked someone else because, like, I knew he didn't care about them…but that shit in the bus today?"
Confusion must have shown on James' face because Remus rolls his eyes.
"The hand holding, comforting, whatever the fuck that was. That shit?"
"Oh." James looks down at his hands self-consciously.
"That means something. To Sirius." Remus looks away. Away from James, away from Sirius. And I didn't really realize…how it would make me feel to see him feel something…for someone else."
Someone who's not me.
The unsaid words sink into the earth around them. And there's only the sound of laugher from the food truck. And the wind whistling. And the tour bus's motor running.
"That's going to make one hell of a song one day." James says after a moment. Still trying to wrap his head about the information Remus has imparted upon him.
"Yeah." Remus says. But he doesn't sound pleased. Just resigned.
James opens his mouth. Something tickling his brain.
"But Rem…you already know that I care about Sirius. He's my best friend. We tell each other we love each other, like every five seconds. We've got fucking matching tattoos, like—"
"For fuck's sake Jay." Remus recoils, giving him a sharp look. "For someone who made it through law school in record time, you're dumb as shit."
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