Author's Note: A lovely guest reviewer found the headcanon I mentioned in my last chapter. I'd post it, but then it would give the story away! I will say it was found on Tumblr, on latortuemaladroit's page.
Thanks for being so patient with me, y'all. I want to do RLSB justice, and I'm short on free time, so I'm taking this slow.
Lyall Lupin greeted the boys at King's Cross. Though Sirius had seen him before and spoken with him briefly, he hadn't spent any real time with the man. He greeted Remus with a warm, bone-crushing hug; Sirius was struck with the envy he'd often felt seeing James with his parents. Though the Potters had all but embraced Sirius as a son, his own family was... cold.
Lyall clapped a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Sirius, it's good to see you," he said warmly. "We're happy to have you stay with us for the summer."
"Thank you, sir," said Sirius politely. He looked at the thin man; his hair was grey about the temples and his eyes creased. "I've just got to go tell my parents I won't be joining them." He walked over to where the Blacks stood, waiting for him.
This was the part he always dreaded about coming home for the holidays; there was no warmth, no hug, only a clipped "Hello, Sirius" from his father and a nod from his mother.
"Hullo," said Sirius. "I'm staying with the Lupins over the summer, so you needn't worry about me."
"With the Lupins? The acclaimed pure-blood who threw away his life and his standing for a Muggle?" Walburga Black screeched.
"The very same," said Sirius with mock brightness and his customary grin. He was tempted to tell them he'd also be bunking with a werewolf (with whom, it seemed, he was desperately besotted), but thought better of it. "See you next summer, if I can't avoid it."
He turned on his heel and sauntered off, letting the smile drain from his face as he approached Remus and Lyall again. "Right then," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm ready whenever you lot are."
"Are you all right?" asked Lyall. "That seemed... ah."
"No need to be polite about it, Mr. Lupin," said Sirius, feigning cool amusement. "They're a right awful bunch and it shows whenever they crawl out of their hole. Needless to say I'm grateful for your letting me stay."
"Of course, Sirius. Call me Lyall, by the way. Now, let's get you two home."
One quick and gut-churning Side-Along Apparition later, Sirius stumbled halfway across a small living room. He looked about the place; Mrs. Lupin was nowhere to be seen. There was a threadbare rug across the wood floor, and two old, squashy sofas. There were three photographs on the mantle: a younger-looking Mr. Lupin with a beautiful young woman by his side, smiling brightly and waving for the camera; the two again with a wriggling baby Remus held between them; and Remus, thin and gangly and apprehensive, in what looked to be his first set of Hogwarts robes standing in front of the Hogwarts Express. He kept trying to smile, but he looked a little bit ill.
"It's not much," said Remus. "We had to move about once a year before I started Hogwarts, but this is where we've lived since I was eleven. The neighbors think I go to a boarding school for gifted children, and probably that I have a very ill-behaved dog that likes to howl at the full moon."
Sirius turned toward him, cracked a grin. "Close enough," he said; he caught Remus's eye and they both laughed, knowing that he was referring to himself more than Remus's furry little problem.
"Come on up to my room; let's drop our trunks there, then we'll find my mum."
"Your mother's gone to the market to pick up something to eat," supplied Lyall. "Go unpack, and she should be back when you're done."
Sirius followed Remus up the narrow staircase and to the second bedroom on the right. It seemed to have been expanded magically, larger than it should be, with a second bed crammed into the extra space. Remus seemed surprised at this new addition. "S'pose I didn't think of that," he said. "Where you'd sleep, that is. Good of them to come up with something."
Sirius slapped a hand across his heart. "Remus John Lupin didn't think of something? What is the world coming to? However shall I go on?" he exclaimed, tossing himself dramatically across the larger bed-obviously Remus's. It smelled like him, like old books and the woods.
"Get off my bed," protested Remus. "You're going to get wet dog smell all over it."
The dark-haired boy only grinned and rolled all over it, deeply breathing in Remus's scent. Then he shut his eyes and focused on his Animagus form, and felt himself shifting.
"Stop!" Remus whispered urgently. "If my parents walked in-"
He phased back and shot Remus a slow, lazy smile. "Then they'll think I have an ill-behaved dog who likes to howl at the full moon," he quipped. "Now get over here."
He sat up and tugged Remus onto the bed with him, finding himself flat on his back with an armful of werewolf. Said werewolf blushed the most enchanting shade of pink and pushed himself off of Sirius, but not before the Animagus felt his own heart start to pound.
"You can have half my dresser," Remus said quickly. "I really don't need it all, I can stuff everything into my closet."
"I'm good," said Sirius casually. "I live out of my trunk all school year; what use is there moving it into dressers and then back into the trunk in a couple months?"
"Lazy-arse," the boy tossed over his shoulder, already unpacking his own trunk.
The pair heard a door open downstairs. "Mum," Remus said happily, abandoning his trunk to start downstairs. Sirius followed.
Hope Lupin greeted Sirius as warmly as Lyall had, and they sat at the small dining room table for spaghetti and thick hunks of buttered bread. Hogwarts and James's house had introduced Sirius to such casual, homey fare; he remembered the first time he'd been faced with spaghetti, as a first year at Hogwarts.
Sirius didn't know what to make of this new food. He'd had pasta before, what he had since learned to be staunchly upper-class linguine with truffles and urchin eggs and all manner of unpalatable flavors, but this was a new animal. It smelled rich and acidic, with balls of beef-meatballs, James had explained incredulously-strewn about the top, and he sincerely hoped it would taste better than the pastas he'd had at the House of Black.
But the problem was, he couldn't figure out how the hell to eat it.
He couldn't pierce the noodles with a fork without tearing them apart. They were too long to simply scoop up. How was he supposed to get the food to his mouth, short of actually sticking his face onto the plate?
To his left, Remus nudged him. "Like this," he whispered. Sirius watched the smaller boy twist the pasta around his fork. When he tried to mimic Remus's action, he spun too fast and James ended up with a saucy meatball to the face. James executed a battle cry and flung noodles at Sirius ("Not the hair!" he'd protested). Sirius had tried to throw a chunk of bread at James, but he'd missed and hit Peter; it stuck comically to his robes. Quickly, a full-scale food fight erupted, and didn't cease until most plates were empty and a very angry Professor McGonagall, who'd come to put a stop to things, had ended up with a poorly aimed handful of spaghetti square in the chest.
While McGonagall was speechless with anger, Dumbledore-a rather large meatball suspended comically in the center of his beard-stood. "Ah, to be young again," he'd said as the whole Great Hall went silent. "Thank you to whoever provided me with an extra meatball, but I do believe our meal is finished for the evening."
Sirius's memory was interrupted by Remus, nudging his shoulder. "Hello, Sirius? You alive in there?"
Sirius grinned. "Sorry about that. I was just remembering how we got our first detention."
"Ahh," said Remus with a smile of his own. "The Infamous Spaghetti Incident. I was terrified they were going to send me home for that one."
"At that point," he answered, "I think you were terrified you were going to be sent home for breathing improperly."
Lyall and Hope were staring between the two boys, confused. They told the story in turn, Remus interrupting Sirius here and there to make corrections (because, of course, Sirius had to remove any implication of his own fault) and Sirius interrupting Remus to include the more interesting details.
"We had to clean the Great Hall," Remus finished, "without wands."
"And I was unjustly held responsible," said Sirius dramatically. "The rest of them only had to do it that one night; I was stuck with cleanup duty all week. I kept finding bits of sauce in the molding."
Hope laughed freely. "So you're the hellion that's put Remus on the path to a life of crime."
"Hey," her son objected, "I'm a prefect, remember? He's only gotten me stuck in detention once this year."
"Not my fault," Sirius objected. "You could've said no to that spontaneous Hogsmeade trip."
"You offered to buy me chocolate!"
"You know I'd have bought it anyway-"
"And then I'd still have been in trouble because Peter would've told them that's why you were going out," finished Remus.
"You're making me look bad in front of your parents," Sirius whined, to the Lupins' laughter.
"Not to worry," said Lyall. "We've heard enough stories over the years."
"About you the most," piped up Hope. "We've heard our share about James and Peter, but every letter home has a new tale about you. Sirius said... Sirius got in trouble for... Sirius roped me in to... Sirius gave me the best Christmas present-"
"Mum," hissed Remus, blushing a furious shade of scarlet.
Sirius felt something flip-flop inside him as he watched Remus, distress clear in tawny eyes. Though he was amused-and maybe a little hopeful?-at Hope's illuminating comment, something inside him hurt to see Remus anything like unhappy.
"Best Christmas present?" he teased. "Was that the Chocolate Frog I charmed to bite back, or was it the toilet seat?" Sirius had a tradition of getting each of his friends a prank gift before the real one.
Remus rolled his eyes. "The book," he answered, offering a soft smile. "The one from fourth year."
Sirius remembered it well; if he hadn't, he needed only glance at his friend's bedtime reading selection just before or after the moon. Remus was often seen, at those times of the month, curled up in his four-poster reading the collection of true stories of werewolves who accomplished great things. It was the only book Sirius had been able to find that had painted werewolves-any werewolves-in a positive light.
He smiled. "I'm still glad you liked it. Though I must admit I thought the toilet seat was a better gift."
"You would," muttered Remus. "Anyway, Mum, I'm going to get the dishes. You relax for the night."
"Oh," said Hope, "it's your first night back. I'll take care of it."
Sirius stood and began collecting plates. "Both of you relax," he insisted. "Remus, if you'll just show me where everything goes, I've got it."
"Thank you, Sirius," said Lyall brightly. "I must admit I've never been any good at the cleaning charms. Hope and I have to alternate doing it by hand. We're counting the days until Remus turns seventeen so he can do it all for us."
The two students ended up doing the dishes together, Sirius washing while Remus dried and put them away. Sirius was acutely aware of how close together they were standing in the cramped kitchen.
What the hell is wrong with you, Black, he admonished. You've been way closer to Remus on a regular basis for years. You sit this close in classes. Just because it's been pointed out to you that you're madly in love with him, you don't need to act like a bloody bird about it.
That kind of-sort of-almost worked-ish, until Remus turned to him. "You've got a few bubbles... right there," he said, reaching up to brush them from Sirius's cheek.
Don't blush don't blush don't blush, he told himself as his breath hitched. The urge to lean forward, to take that soft, pink mouth with his own, was almost overwhelming. "Thanks," he said softly.
Remus pulled his hand away, turning to finish drying the dishes. "Don't mention it."
Later that night, Sirius lay in bed just a few feet from Remus-the same as he did every night-and tried, and tried, and tried, and tried to sleep.
When that didn't work, he tried to think of ways to backpedal, to get over this stupid, unrequited crush.
When that didn't work, he merely lay and stared at the ceiling, wishing desperately for the right to watch Remus instead.