Coffee
Two weeks now, and Remus finally thought he was finally starting to understand.
There was nothing particularly wrong with the brothers, they were just rather odd.
If you ignore the lack of sleeping, eating, or social life and don’t worry terribly about Regulus’ lack of schooling. Sirius and Regulus turned out to be perfectly pleasant.
Helpful, even, Remus has come to find.
He had taken to working on his various rough drafts on the kitchen island, hunched over from the lack of backing on their bar stools, and keeping the new coffee machine he’d bought only a short distance away.
Regulus had taken to sitting on the counter top, prodding at this or that, while Remus read him tidbits, asking for the boy’s input. Today, on this wishy-washy day where the sun would hide and emerge from the clouds every so often, Regulus perched, Remus hunched, and the sound of clicks and taps filled the silence. Regulus poked at the machine next to him with great curiosity, finding out which buttons made the machine whir while it ground up whole beans and which made the machine beep, beep, beep, while he set the small digital clock on its display.
A bare foot thumped into the cabinets below in no discernable interval. Remus only half-minded; the other half was worrying over why a slender exposed calf was making it so terribly hard to focus on what the boy was saying.
“I think you should change the last line to ‘the truth can be just as salacious’ instead of ‘equally salacious’. Sounds like less of a mouthful.”
Thump, his foot a tiny judge's gavel, thump.
“Alright,” Remus straightened, coming back into focus.
“And don’t use the word ‘gossip-worthy’, makes it sound like a tabloid.” Regulus added, and Remus subtracted.
“Anything else?” Remus propped his head up on one of his hands, feeling his eyes sting from staring at his screen for so long. “Should I be crediting you as my editor?”
Regulus’ sharp shoulders jumped once, giving the impression of a shrug or a chuckle. “Let’s work out the logistics once you’ve made it past the introduction.” He punctuated the jab with a poke at another button, and in some twist of cruel karma, the machine's steamer turned on. The nozzle pointed right at Regulus’ thigh where he sat next to it.
Remus was out of his chair in a second, switching the thing off entirely.
“Merde,” Regulus tsked, rolling the meat of his thigh in his hands, getting a good look at the quickly reddening burn on the surface of the skin. He looked up at Remus, eyes a little glassy and the subtlest jut of his lips. It was then Remus realized he was standing so close his abdomen would touch the boy's knees on a deep inhale.
He raised his hands but stalled, not wanting to touch Regulus but wanting to examine the burn. Regulus leaned back like he’d let him.
“You okay?” Remus asked softly, lowering his hands to the edge of the counter instead.
Regulus ducked his head and nodded solemnly. “Mhm.”
Remus surveyed him for a moment, then turned, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it with cool water, returning to lay it over the patch of downy limb.
“Thanks,” The boy muttered and scooted away from the machine, looking seconds from hitting it back just to get even.
Remus smiled fondly, a little puff of air leaving his nose.
“It won’t bite, you know.”
Regulus’ head snapped up, eyes wide and searching Remus’ face before softening and returning a half-hearted smile.
“Do you want one?” Remus offered, trying to smooth things over between Regulus and the machine.
“Oh, uh-” He trailed off, fidgeting with the wet towel on his thigh. “I don’t know if I’ll like it.”
“No worries,” The older man smiled, loading it up and placing a mug under the nozzle, “If you don’t, I’ll finish it.”
Remus hummed encouragingly, and Regulus looked back at him, skeptical as always.
The coffee brewed with a mechanical whir, the two of them in silence as they watched the mug fill and stop almost to the brim–room for creamy skin. Remus swallowed the thought, the way a spy swallows a secret note.
Remus could see Regulus examining his face in the corner of his eye while he let the last drops ripple the surface, hesitance painted on his features.
“Here we are. Careful, it’s hot.” His fingers brushed Regulus’ as he transferred the mug into his hands; he could feel the warmth of the cup against cool fingers. “Try it like that first, and if you’d like, we’ll add milk or sugar.” He had to stifle the urge to push stray curls out of Regulus’ face, the need to cajole a picky child.
Regulus held it in front of him for a moment, looking at his reflection in the black liquid. Unsure on if to wait, or blow on it, or dive in it seemed.
His eyes flicked up to Remus’ once, meeting his expectant gaze, and he brought the rim to his lips, taking a hesitant sip. The slurp is so unlike him.
Regulus stilled, his eyebrows drew together, and he stared straight forward, his mouth working the liquid.
Remus watched him like the most enrapturing show.
“Oh,” Remus snapped out of it when Regulus tipped it back again, taking a heartier gulp, “Don’t burn yourself again, now.” He laughed, and Regulus closed his eyes. The most salacious–yes, salacious, the word again–noise left his lips when he came up for air. A quiet ah.
“Good?” Remus smiled, raising an eyebrow and lowering his chin.
“Amazing.” Regulus declared before knocking into Remus as he got to shuffling off the counter, toes reaching for the floor.
“Where are you-” Remus steadied him as politely as he could, a hand on his middle back.
“I have to show Sirius.” Regulus hurried through the kitchen, the forgotten wet napkin falling flatly onto the floor.
Remus watched incredulously as Regulus padded hurriedly to the foot of the stairs and started up with the mug securely in both hands, calling up to the second floor. Regulus watched the coffee intently, not wanting to slosh one drop over the rim.
“Siri!” He called sweetly before he disappeared, and Remus could hear Sirius shout back from his studio.
Remus leaned back, catching the counter, pulling his lip between his teeth the same way his brows pulled together.
The burn on his thigh had completely vanished.