Flashback 2
Sirius was cooking that night. As Remus sat at his kitchen table, he realised it was the first time Sirius had cooked for him. They had been friends for a while now, and they had even cooked together, but somehow this was different. This was not making waffles for brunch. This was Sirius sitting him down at his place, telling him to relax with some music while he was making dinner.
He had said it would be quick, something improvised before going to sleep. Perhaps Remus was less of a good cook than he thought, but preparing fish and a sauce to go with it was not his idea of a quick recipe. But he did not say anything.
The music filled the kitchen, harmonising with the drizzle of butter in the pan. Sirius was moving around swiftly, a danseur performing his variation. His favourite jacket had long been abandoned and he was wearing jeans and a simple T-Shirt, a tea towel slung over his shoulder. Even if Remus was over him, weirdly, Sirius had never looked more attractive.
‘You’re awfully quiet,’ Sirius said, turning to him with a smile.
‘I don’t really dare interrupt the music.’ It was an excuse, really. The truth was that Remus had not had a proper intellectual thought since they had moved to the kitchen.
‘Don’t worry about it. Tell me about your summer. Or anything, really. What's the latest rabbit hole you fell into while doing research?’
With anyone else, Remus would have felt self-conscious about talking and talking about something he considered interesting but was probably immensely boring to anyone else. Not with Sirius, though. He always listened, and, even better, he actually remembered afterwards. So Remus launched into a twenty-minute rant about this obscure French woman he had read about. She had led an interesting life and even though she had killed someone, Remus could not help but feel sorry for her, because sometimes, when you are a woman, you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do to find a place in a male-dominated world. Which did not excuse murder. But Remus could not help finding some sympathy for her.
‘Wait,’ Sirius interrupted him after a while. ‘She sold her girlfriend’s body? She was her pimp?’
Ok, so perhaps being a badass woman did not excuse everything. Remus could tolerate murder, but it was true that prostitution was probably going a bit too far. He grimaced. ‘Yes, she did.’
‘Hm,’ Sirius answered, lost in thought. ‘Hell of a life though.’ He stopped for a while, looking at the fish in the pan. ‘We are talking about sex again.’
They had been joking about sex-adjacent things over the past few hours, but whose tired mind did not get dirty past a certain hour? ‘That’s about it for this subject, don’t worry,’ Remus said, smiling, to the back of Sirius’ head. He must have felt it because he turned around and looked him in the eyes, cocking an eyebrow.
‘Shame. We will have to keep sex for later in the evening then.’
He winked at him. The bastard winked at him. Then he went back to his fish. And Remus had to focus back on the trial he was describing like Sirius had not made an innuendo about them for the first time ever.
Nothing happened that night.
At least the fish was delicious.