Chapter 2
“‘The Lord sustains him on his sickbed; in his illness you restore him to full health.’”
The voice beside him was gruff and tired as it continued reciting scripture to him, speaking it over him perhaps. He didn’t know for sure. It took Remus a while to finally open his eyes, and when he did, he didn’t know what to think.
He was laid back on the sick bed Marlene and Sirius had planted him on, a patterned quilt over his legs. But the old man that sat across from him was a complete stranger.
His long white hair was in a neat braid over one shoulder, a bolo tie hanging round the collar of his stained button up, just below a scraggly beard. Remus wouldn’t call him wiry, but the man was kinda bony in the shoulders and his knees did look awfully pointed under his jeans.
The old man gave no inclination he knew Remus was awake and watching him. He just crosses one knee over the other, his dirty boots leaving scuffs along the shins of his pants. A bible in one hand, he settled back further in the chair and kept reading.
Remus sat up, which wasn’t a good choice apparently, a head ache began throbbing to life in his temples. The quilt has fallen to his waist, revealing his bare chest to the room.
What the hell?
He snatched up the quilt and peered under it. No pants. He sat in his tidy whiteys alone. They had even taken his socks.
“Who the hell are you?” Remus ground out at the old man, who stopped reading and politely shut his bible and placed it on the side table.
He looked at Remus behind a set on half moon glasses and smiled kindly at him. He had the smile of a teacher, a good family friend. It was a smile you trusted.
Remus eyed him.
“I’m Albus,” the old man told him, “Pastor Albus.”
Remus’ face fell.
He had just cussed at a preacher.
God help him.
“I am so sorry, sir,” Remus got out, “I had no idea-“
“Settle down, boy. It’s alright,” the man’s smile had never faltered, as if he’d expected Remus to react this way, “I’m a pastor, not Jesus himself. Don’t gotta watch your mouth around me.”
He didn’t really look like a pastor, but nothing for Remus had been as expected in the past twenty four hours.
“What are you in here with me for, sir?” Remus asked, his fingers fiddling with the quilt’s edge.
“Miss McKinnon asked me to visit. She thought a bit of prayer would do you some good. Said our young Sirius did a number on you,” Albus said.
“Are you surprised?”
Albus shook his head, “Not by Sirius. I think the whole town is used to his antics by now.”
“But you,” Albus wiped the dirt off one knee, not looking at him, “I believe you are a surprise waiting to happen, Remus. Good or bad, I haven’t decided.”
“Sirius told you my name, I take it?” Remus asked, “I supposed he’s to blame for my nakedness too?”
“Yes,” Albus’ smile widened a bit, “I think he thought you were going to get sick, wanted you out of the wet ones immediately.”
Albus got to his feet with a grunt, a shellacked walking stick in his hand now. He grabbed something off the side table and tossed it to Remus.
A stack of clean clothes.
“Sirius tried his best to get the right size. Poor boy was frantic, really.”
Albus just leaned his chin on the walking stick, watching him.
Remus eyes the clothes. They were… expensive. The shirt had to be at least fifty bucks on its own. It was a murky yellow color with a pointed collar and pearl snaps down its front. And the jeans? They were starched to hell and back. A boot box sat at the foot of the bed.
They were size tens.
Good lord.
He owed Sirius a lot of money.
“Um,” Remus was at a loss for words, “How much-“
“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him, I have no clue,” Albus told him, “Though, if he wanted you to know, he wouldn’t have taken all the tags off.”
Remus hadn’t even noticed.
That son of a bitch.
Before Remus could voice this thought, Albus spoke again, “Get dressed, boy. I’ll be outside.”
And with that, he hobbled out the door, shutting it behind him, leaving Remus alone with himself.
He set the fancy clothes on the bed and got to his feet, he walked over to the sink that sat in one corner. Above it was an oval mirror. His looked into it, taking stock of his new injuries.
There was a long set of stitches that ran from his hairline down and through one eyebrow. He knew it would scar just by looking at it. There were other scratches and scrapes on his face, a big black blue bruise sat on one temple. A bandage round its way down one forearm.
He looked like shit.
He felt like shit.
He got dressed.
First the pants, then the shirt. While tucking his other arm in he heard a crinkle and paused. Shirt hanging open and unbuttoned, he patted at the breast pockets and found something. Squinting, he pulled it out.
In his hands was a pack of m&m’s.
That mother fucker.
Remus finished dressing quickly, snatching the boots out of the box and pulling them on. He stuffed the candy back into his pocket with a huff, walked to the door and opened it.
He heard voices down the short hallway and followed the sound to the front room. He didn’t remember much from the night before, but he assumed he had been brought in through this way.
There was a wooden counter, separated by a little swinging door. Atop it sat an assortment of medical supplies, gauze and bandaids, cotton balls and tweezer sets. And underneath, facing Remus, were two neat shelves of all kinds of pills and glass bottled liquids.
Marlene stood on this side of the counter talking to Albus who seemed content to lean on the wall just beside the screen door. Sunlight was streaming in through the big picture window, casting a reverse shadow of ‘McKinnon Medicines’ onto the wood floor.
“How’re you feelin’?”
Marlene had turned to face him as he entered, hands on her hips as she inspected him. Remus felt like he’d been put under a microscope to be dissected.
“Better. My head hurts a bit but other than that, I’m better. Thank you,” he told her with a slight nod that sent a sharp tingle through the stitches.
“You’re welcome,” Marlene smiled at him before continuing her look over. She circled him like a hawk, “Damn. Sirius sure knows how to make a man look pretty.”
“The boots were the right size?” She peered up at him in question.
“Uh, yeah,” Remus told her, “Everythin’ fits good. I don’t know why he bought me all this, I have a duffel full of clothes-“
Marlene cut him off with a laugh and a companionable pat on the shoulder, “Don’t bother wonderin’, it’ll only give you a head ache.”
She slid beside him to crouch down and dig around in a cabinet, her cotton skirt skimming the floor.
Remus squinted, “What do you mean by that?”
“She means,” Albus said from his post by the door, “That Sirius does as he pleases and always has. No one knows why he does anything, only that he has done it. Best to just thank him and move on.”
Well, that answered jack shit but Remus didn’t tell him that.
“Here,” Marlene got to her feet, spinning around to push a bottle into Remus’ hands, “Demerol, for the pain. Take ‘em only when you need ‘em.”
Remus stared down at the pill bottle in his hands, not comprehending.
“Look, I thank you,” Remus told her, “But you don’t understand. I’ve got no money, no job. Hell, my truck was my only way of gettin’-“
“I told you, I don’t want your money,” Marlene stated in a matter-of-fact voice, “And don’t worry, the boys are workin’ on getting’ your truck up and runnin’ now. We can talk payment later.”
Remus frowned, “The boys?”
Marlene nodded, “Sirius and James and Peter. They’re gettin’ it towed to the shop, just down the street.”
This is gonna cost so much money, money Remus did not have.
Was Sirius determined to put him in the hole and bury him there?
There was the sound of an engine roaring, followed by hoots and hollers. Remus watched, mouth agape, as a tow truck flew by, his busted truck hitched to the back of it. And on the tailgate sat a grinning Sirius Black, another lean man in glasses hanging on beside him, smiling just as widely.
The truck was going ninety to nothing, shooting dirt and gravel out at passers by as it went. It’s a wonder neither of the idiots had fallen off yet.
Marlene just tutted at the sight, but Albus broke into a grin of his own, a warm chuckle rising from his throat. Remus pushed passed the little gate to look out the window.
“Welcome to Bell Buckle, Remus,” Albus told him, pushing the screen door open with his walking stick, “Good luck and God bless you. You’ll need it with those boys.”
Remus walked out onto the square. He was greeted by searing sunlight, the dry July heat not taking pity on him in the slightest as he made his way down the street.
It wasn’t busy per se, but there were people hustling and bustling around on either side, coming in and out of different stores at their own pace. There was an ice cream shop, and a general store. McKinnon Medicines of course and nice little bar nestled in a far off corner.
It looked real promising.
He was flat broke though, so he passed it without a second glance.
Sirius was leaning over to unlatch the tow hook from the fender when Remus approached, and Remus couldn’t help but look.
He was only a man.
Sirius was dressed down today in a white t shirt that rode up over his hips, revealing a strip of pale sweat soaked skin just above the ass of his jeans. Remus could see the notches in his spine with his back arched like that, the jut of each perfect shoulder blade as he worked.
Goddamn was he pretty.
A hand clapped down on his shoulder, bringing Remus back to his senses.
“Well, damn. He did try to kill you didn’t he? You look like hammered shit.”
It was the man that had been riding on the back of the truck with Sirius. He had deep brown curls in a mess around his head and tanned skin, the apples of his cheeks still red with sunburn under his glasses.
“I feel like hammered shit,” Remus told him bluntly, shaking off his hand.
This did not faze the man what so ever, his grin just widened as he offered his other hand in greeting, “I’m James.”
Remus took it, “Remus.”
Sirius stood up, wiping his hands on his pants in an effort to get some of the rust off. It did not work. He gave Remus a smile, propping himself up on the truck and crossed one leg over the other.
He eyed Remus up and down slowly, casually, as he spoke, “I’m glad I picked the right size.”
Remus did not get hot in the face, it was July damn it.
“I have a bag of clothes. You know that,” Remus glared at him, James forgotten at his side, “You didn’t have to buy me more. It’s bad enough I owe you a fence, I don’t need you rackin’ up the bill just cause you can.”
Something flickered across Sirius’ face but it was gone as quick as it had come. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw James reach into his pocket. It was a slow, calculated gesture. One that only meant one thing.
Sirius raised his hand, “It’s alright James. He’s always an ass.”
Remus never took his eyes off Sirius, but he felt James soften beside him.
Good.
He wasn’t getting stabbed today.
Sirius stood up from his spot against the truck, stepping up to Remus, his grey eyes unreadable. A golden hoop peaked out from one ear, shining in the summer sun. Remus felt his fists clench at his sides.
He wanted to fight him.
He wanted to fuck him.
“We can negotiate our terms of service later, Mr. Lupin,” Sirius’ voice was honey poured over glass, his lips inches away, “You are a handy man after all, aren’t you?”
Remus swallowed, “Hired hand.”
“Hmm,” Sirius reached up and patted Remus’ breast pocket, “Then you can work it off.”
“Work it off?”
Sirius smiled at him, a sweet, deceiving thing that turned Remus’ inside to mush in an instant.
“Yes,” Sirius pulled his hand back, “You work for me to pay the debt. Even the odds.”
A crinkle and a flash of red.
Remus caught his wrist.
Sirius’ smiled turned into a grin as he placed the m&m’s into his hand without a word and stepped back.
“Now onto business,” Sirius made a sweeping gesture with his hands, motioning to the truck, “Peter has graciously agreed to fix it up. It’ll take a couple months, so in the mean time you’ll be sleepin’ at mine.”
Remus’ eyes widened, “Do what?”
James let out a snort, “You’re gonna be stayin’ at his place workin’ until it’s fixed.”
“Oh.”
A new voice called from inside the shop, “You owe me one you bow legged bastard.”
A man stepped out into the skinny little gravel lot. He was a mouse of a man, coming up to about four nine. If it weren’t for the scruff upon his chin and the bags under his eyes, Remus would have thought he was twelve.
He had sandy blonde hair that was blowing around his round little face, and a pair of stained up coveralls that swapped his tiny frame. The man was a runt, no doubt.
And he looked irritated as hell.
“That I do Pete,” Sirius told the man with a grin. He motioned from Remus to the man and back again, “Remus Lupin meet Peter Pettigrew, the best mechanic in Bedford county.”
Peter shook the wrench he was holding at Sirius, “You’re a grade A suck up, you sumbitch.”
Sirius grinned, “That I am Peter, that I am.”
Peter muttered something under his breath that was probably more dirty words, then looked up to Remus and did a double take, his eyes widening.
“Goddamn Sirius,” Peter said, “How’d you manage run over the Jolly Green Giant?”
Remus was at a loss for words.
James and Sirius filled the silence with a chorus of laughter.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, how tall are you?” Peter came to stand just in front of Remus, looking up at him with a sort of scared amazement painted across his face, “The hell have they been feedin’ you? Damn. You been eatin’ your Wheaties?”
Remus just blinked at him. He didn’t know if he was being insulted or what. The man looked genuinely curious.
“I’m six two last I checked,” Remus told him. James and Sirius were still laughing, practically doubling over the truck bed at this point.
The bastards.