Mary slips out, and Sirius follows, letting the doors close behind them, half-smirking and half-smiling at her. Remus hadn’t learned her name officially, but he’d gotten an idea. Sirius and Mary–really, all of the girls he brings home–aren’t concerned with how thin the walls are. It’s surprising, considering how expensive these apartments are. There were times Remus had been stationed down the hall from Sirius’ apartment, and–to put it nicely–that was how he’d learned Mary’s name.
He wishes he could tell Sirius that acting like they’re going out of his apartment instead of the main lobby doors–sneaky eyes, soft, shared laughter–just makes them look stupid. He very purposefully doesn’t glare at Sirius’ swollen lips, or Mary’s messy clothes and hair, or the way Sirius’ trousers are in danger of falling from his slim hips.
Sirius, on the other hand, is eager to follow Mary’s teasing beckon of a ringed finger with his lips. They stay that way for a while, and Remus looks away. Jesus, it’s almost indecent.
When she peels herself away and blows him a kiss, her purse swinging, she passes Remus, and that’s when he decides–impulsively–to say it.
“Nice perfume, ma’am.”
If he wanted to cause more problems, he would have called her by her name and made her wonder just how he knew it, and that’s what Remus calls restraint.
“Thanks,” she says–seems like she’s in a hurry–“But I’m not wearing any.”
Remus waits for her to realize what that means. She’s smart. She’ll figure it out. He sniffs, very purposefully. Another impulse. This is shaping up to be a very eventful night for everyone.
“No,” Sirius says desperately, in Remus’ direction but not really to Remus. Rich boys like him only ever look through working-class people like Remus. Sirius is no different. He’s been forced to acknowledge Remus, now, and not in some vague way or when no one’s around. The order of things has been disrupted. Poor him. He’s panicking, Remus can tell.
“She was gonna find out soon enough,” Remus tells him, his expression patronizing, his tone deceptively casual. He keeps his face smooth, unbothered.
“Listen, darling–” Sirius entreats her, reaching a hand out. Darling is the wrong word to use. Remus watches Mary rapidly process it and then he does nothing, looking down, as she swivels on her heels and slaps Sirius, hard.
Remus looks up, rather smug, as she leaves cursing the day Sirius Black was born. Or maybe it’s more of an “I told you so” face. Like he said, it was bound to happen sooner or later. He shifts his gaze to Sirius and gives him a sort of half-nod and a mocking pout of a smile, as small as smiles come. Sirius himself looks angry, but strangely in turmoil about it, as if it’s a mask of anger instead of what he’s really feeling.
“Moony, why would you do that?” he scolds, and swipes at Remus’ arm. It’s probably meant to be harder, to convey his anger, but it’s just a light brushing of fingers against his uniform. No harm done. More flirtation than fury with how gentle it is. It amuses Remus instead of annoying him with its condescension, like it probably should. He can take more than that. From Sirius, he could take nearly anything.
This is what does it for Remus: Sirius doesn’t even seem sad, or ashamed, or remorseful of the actions that led to Mary slapping him and leaving. Sirius Black is a bad idea, Remus is well aware of that. He’s witnessed hordes of girls going in and out day after day, always leaving in the morning with their heads down, disappointed when they realize Sirius isn’t a long-term relationship guy. All that being said, if Sirius didn’t want any of those girls in the first place…I mean, even if that wasn’t true, Sirius is possibly the most gorgeous man Remus has ever seen. So he really can’t be bothered to heed the red flags.
Remus meets Sirius’ gaze intently.
“Don’t you know?” he says simply. He doesn’t even have to look at Sirius’ lips for Sirius to know what Remus means.
Yes, he knows, judging by the swallow, the breathy sigh.
A smile crawls across Sirius’ face. Now he’s smug, and Remus is left genuine, all his feelings written across his face behind the thin facade of calm. Remus wants to kiss–slap, punch–it off him.
“You’re jealous,” Sirius laughs, and Remus wants to swallow it and that God-given confidence of his. “You’re sabotaging my relationship with Mary because you’re jealous.”
“That’s a brave assumption.” Remus snorts. It’s true, but something tells him the way to go with Sirius is to play it cool. Hard to get. Something tells him Sirius likes the chase.
When Remus looks down at him again, Sirius chokes and swallows the sudden wave of thoughts about how pretty his freckles are, how his eyelashes nearly brush his cheeks but not quite, how the honey of his eyes reminds him of sunlight through amber. Sooner than later, the shame takes over. It’s fine for Remus to be jealous, because–Sirius doesn’t know why, it just is. After all, maybe Sirius isn’t the one he wants at all. Maybe it’s Mary, with her coils and complexities, the flirt she is. Then again, you could say much the same of Sirius.
She and Sirius met at a bar. Lily and Marlene were friends with her before Sirius was, but when he saw her in action–clearly the brightest and boldest girl in the room, talking to another man and looking as if she was planning to eat him–he knew they were the same. He took her home after a night of talking and intense flirting, and their physical chemistry was as good as their verbal. They’ve been on and off for a while, and now–now they’re off, Sirius presumes.
He and Remus have kept eye contact for too long. Sirius can’t stay still on his best days, and it’s time for something to happen.
“You should know, I’m not–” Sirius starts, meaning for it to be a light joke.
“Really?” Remus interrupts. “Huh, that’s odd. I didn’t realize it wasn’t as obvious to you as it is to me that this, here, is tension. Wanna guess which kind?”
He was going to say, "I’m not the kind of guy whose relationships last, as you just saw." Remus clearly thought he was about to comment on the fact that they’re both men. And so what? Sirius is trying to be okay with this, he is. And he doesn’t care. A good-looking person is a good-looking person, and a good time is a good time. He wants to see where this leads with Remus. He tries to discard the notion of gender at all. It doesn’t matter; all of society isn’t going to be in the bedroom with them. No one will judge but God, if He exists.
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Sirius murmurs.
“I don’t think you do.”
“Don’t tell me what I think.”
“No, because that would get in the way of your denial. That you’re in control, that you don’t want me.”
“I just…” Sirius swallows, looking up at Remus. Pleading. “I just want to kiss a bloke and for it to not mean anything about me as a person. I don’t want it to define me, or change anything.”
“Like your other whores,” Remus says, disbelieving, gruff, but he doesn’t seem as angry.
“Think of them any way you want, but don’t call them whores to my face. Mary isn’t.”
“I know.” Remus says softly. “It’s you.”
“Don’t go saying things like that.”
“It’s true. You use them to prove to yourself and others that you can pleasure a woman and like it. But all you need to do is feel, Sirius. What do you feel? You can’t ignore the truth forever, you know.”
“Can’t I?” Sirius says, defiant and somehow sad.
“You’ll want those girls to be enough, but they’ll never be enough. And that’s just going to hurt both of you in the end. Or am I wrong?” His head is tilted. His expression is honest and blunt, a ledge.
Sirius says nothing, his head sinking. He can’t stand the sight of those amber eyes, too sure that he's one of the only ones that can see through his illusions. And they don’t even know each other that well. He must look pathetic to Remus.
“Mm, I thought so.” There’s a smile hidden in his words. “There’s also the fact that I’m devastatingly attracted to you.”
Sirius looks up, a smile looming. How can this man unravel his lies and then lift his confidence in the space of a few minutes? “Right now?” A smirk is growing.
“Right now.” Remus confirms, then: “And almost always since the day I was hired here.”
“Oh, that’s–”
Remus puts a finger to Sirius’ lips. “You should know that even though I will respect your wishes, personally, I don’t want this to be a one-night thing. Alright?”
Remus’ surety is very attractive.
“Sure, I’d do anything you wanted right now,” Sirius says carelessly.
“Then do it,” Remus whispers while looking blatantly at Sirius’ parted lips, the intensity in his eyes matched by the increasing beats of Sirius’ heart. Oh, God, that is attractive.
Sirius does. More than that, even, but he doesn’t kiss and tell. Not this time.