Tan Lines on the Cruise Ship

Remus trudged on to his room and tried to remember the directions. He still had Hundred Hells in his head when he caught one of its band members out of the corner of his eye. Barty was staring at Remus with a lit joint in his hand and its companion of swirly smoke emitting from the tip. Remus approached him calmly in the sequestered hall.

“You can’t smoke that on the ship,” Remus told him.

“But I’m a band member. Not a guest.”

“Rule still applies.”

“Fuck that,” Barty spat.

“Listen. Either you hand over the joint, put it out, or throw it in the goddamn ocean for all I care,” he warned.

Barty rolled his eyes and walked over, his fingers brushing Remus’ as he sloppily handed his joint. He looked even more like an alternative band singer with his red, dopey eyes, and Remus felt at ease. He looked like every single kid Remus had ever babysat at the club.

“Are you gonna smoke it?” Barty asked.

“And run the risk of getting caught like you?”

“So you would smoke it under other circumstances.”

“Guess so.”

Remus handed the joint back to Barty. “Go on, throw it into the ocean.”

Barty took a final hit of it and approached the balcony ahead, chucking it into the midnight waters. “Why won’t you throw it in yourself?”

Because I’m scared of getting anywhere near the balconies, Remus thought. Because I’m scared I’ll go back to those five years and see my men, my friends, drowning in the ocean below. Because I’m a fucking baby.

“It’s your joint,” he argued.

Barty shrugged and picked at the red nail polish on his fingertips. “I’m tired. I’ll come find you tomorrow, okay?”

“What? Why?”

“Well, I’m playing at another concert hall way upstairs and I’m gonna need you to direct me,” Barty muttered.

“I thought tonight was the night designated for rock performances?”

“I’m here all week,” Barty said, smiling stupidly.

Dear God.

⊹₊ ⋆

Employees were up at the crack of dawn to take advantage of their breakfast buffet before most guests were due to wake up. At 4:54 Remus took his coffee and his toast over to where Sirius was sitting peacefully. Sirius had the earliest traces of sunrise painted on his face, his face of a canvas. It was another step for Remus to approach Sirius like this - a step that brought him closer to what, he wasn’t sure. A friendship with Sirius? Why was it that he wanted to occupy Sirius’ company all the time? He didn’t even know the answer himself. All he could say was that he liked Sirius, a lot, and wanted to stay around him. Not stay with him, but just around him.

“Hi,” Remus greeted, a little surprised that Sirius hadn’t beat him to it.

“Hi.” His voice had fallen flat like a coke left out for a few hours.

Remus eyed Sirius’ floral-patterned teacup of espresso that had lipstick marks on the rim of it. His own mug of Mocha Frappuccino (despite everybody assuming he drank black coffee) was promptly chugged to get rid of the unusually awkward silence that fell between the two of them. And while Remus drank, he also eyed Sirius’ lips which did have the same pink tint as was on his teacup.

“Are you used to getting up this early?” Remus asked.

“Remus, I think you need to come with me.”

Remus followed Sirius out of the employee room, located right by the kitchens where Remus had seen the famous Peter for the first time. The pair of them wedged into a room Remus had never been in before. It was cramped and smelled vaguely of spices. When the light clicked on Remus could see dust particles floating through the air of a… pantry. Sirius had measured that a kitchen pantry was the best spot for seclusion.

“Want to explain why we’re in a kitchen pantry?” Remus asked.

“Want to explain why last night I got a complaint from one of our most prized guests on the ship?”

“What are you even-”

“Don’t be that way. In case you aren’t aware, the Black Sea is one of the biggest cruise ships to ever exist. We have a guest on it right now who just made about a hundred million dollars in the box office for a new movie she just directed.”

“Holy… damn.”

“Yeah. And last night at midnight I got a complaint from her. A bad one. You wanna explain to me what she saw last night?”

Remus didn’t even know what to say. He stood there, voice crackling up with no real words coming out, just waiting for Sirius to drop the bomb on him. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know. You don’t know that she saw you and Barty from Hundred Hells smoking a joint together?”

“What?”

“Just because you’ve been used to nightlife for the past couple years does not mean that you can go around at your new jobs imitating it. This isn’t a club, it’s a business,” Sirius fired.

Remus’ head replayed remorseful images of the night prior, where a stoned Barty had been smoking his joint when Remus caught him. Where a stoned Barty would fuck up any progress Remus had made with Sirius. He wanted to reach out and grab Sirius’ shoulder to stop him in his track of venomous words.

“You’ve got to listen to me, Sirius.”

“I’m your boss, not the other way around.”

Remus sighed angrily and decided to act on his previous thoughts. His large palm found Sirius’ shoulder and he gripped and, wonderfully enough, Sirius didn’t swat the touch away.

“Please. Listen.”

Sirius stared up at him through his long black lashes, a definite result of those countless hours he’d claimed to have spent by the mirror with pricey skincare products by his side. Everything about Sirius cried intensity. It was everything from his hollow cheekbones to his dark hair, brows and lashes, and all the way down to his stare that could turn men to marble like Medusa could. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe Remus had turned Sirius to marble, because Sirius just stood there silently like the statue of a Greek God. He didn’t say a word. He looked to be between war and peace and Remus had never related to him more.

“What exactly did this director tell you that she saw last night?” Remus asked gently.

“She told me that she saw you pass a lit joint to Barty, and he took a hit before tossing it into the ocean. Littering is another bad thing to be preaching to our guests.”

Remus nodded his head. “That part I’ll admit to being responsible for. But Sirius,” Remus started, squeezing the hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “This is going to sound stupid, but I need you to listen without cutting me off.”

Sirius resumed his statue responsibilities.

“I confiscated the joint from Barty the minute I saw it in his hand. He gave it to me to chuck into the ocean, since we were right by the balcony, but um… I couldn’t chuck it into the ocean. So I gave it back to him. I told him to do it himself. Okay?”

Sirius cocked his head sideways. “Why couldn’t you toss the joint yourself?”

Remus stabbed his bottom lip to stall. “Because, uh…”

He knew that if he didn’t tell Sirius, he’d be fired immediately. It wasn’t life or death, but in a way it was. To him it was. Life meant having a job and life meant being close to those he admired. If he got fired, both of those things would be snatched right from his scarred fingertips. He just couldn’t have that.

“Because you were right. I am freaking out on his boat,” Remus explained, letting his hand fall from Sirius’ shoulder and stuffing it into the pocket of his work pants.

“You are?”

“Yeah. And I couldn’t go anywhere near the railing of that deck. So, no, I didn’t smoke a joint with Barty.”

Sirius nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. His eyelashes fluttered like two black-winged butterflies. He opened his eyes again and fixed Remus with a more relaxed, easygoing look. The kind Remus was used to from him. “I’m going to trust you.”

“Thank you.”

Remus let himself turn to stone. At least a minute had gone by this way, with no words left to say. But since Sirius had just vowed to trust Remus, Remus thought he might be able to trust Sirius too. He took a chance and humoured him.

“Even if that wasn’t enough proof for you, would you ever willingly accept a hit from one of that kid’s joints?”

Sirius laughed and shook his head. “Never. Did you know, he’s Regulus’ best friend? I have literally no idea why because Regulus is… well, he’s not exactly sane, but I’d like to think he doesn’t fall into the same bucket as Barty.”

“I don’t think a Black could fall into the same bucket as Barty. You’re pretty sane,” Remus replied with a smile.

“Pretty sane? Only pretty sane?” Sirius returned. “And you’re forgetting my parents. They aren’t sane, or did I not make that clear?”

“I’m pretty sure you did. Uh, so what’s their deal?”

“Hm?”

“You’re pretty critical of them,” Remus commented.

“Yeah, because they fucking deserve it.”

“But why?”

“I couldn’t even get into all of it here. We have to get back to work, our breakfast break is nearly over,” Sirius replied, glancing at his Apple Watch.

“Right… why are we in a pantry again?”

Sirius just laughed. “Couldn’t make a scene out in the hallway, some of our guests get up really early and like to wander the halls if you haven’t noticed.”

Remus just shrugged and watched as Sirius guided the way out of the pantry, already talking up a storm about something new that had struck his mind. Sirius was shifty like that - he was stormy before he was sunny, and sometimes the other way around. Remus was beginning to learn how warm his sun rays felt and how violent his downpour was. He was beautifully complex and Remus had never more felt like basking in every single sort of weather all at once.

⊹₊ ⋆

Remus was on duty on the starboard side of the ship at nightfall, on a floor way high up. He spotted a little girl, no more than eight years old, staring at the sea from over a deck railing. She’s brave, Remus thought. She whirled around and bounded over to Remus excitedly. He swore he saw constellations in her eyes.

“I saw her,” the girl said.

“You saw who?”

“A mermaid,” the girl filled in. “We have to go back.”

“Afraid we can’t. ‘M sorry.”

She sulked frustratedly and threw a glance back at the sea. “But I’ll never see her again!”

Remus was not a parent, nor had he ever been a babysitter. He had to improvise some sort of scheme to keep this girl satisfied; he had not forgotten the thin ice he skated on with Sirius in terms of customer service.

“Well,” he started. “Mermaids are actually endangered. Did you know that? And if we go after her, she might get scared and swim away.”

“What’s endangered?”

“It means when there’s almost no mermaids left on Earth.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And if we bother her, she might decide she doesn’t like it here on Earth anymore. And she could swim away to a different planet, or a whole other galaxy.”

“Like which one?” the girl challenged.

“Like… Andromeda. Have you ever heard of that galaxy?”

“Yeah! It’s my mum’s name!”

Remus’ eyebrows shot up. He remembered exactly where he had heard this absurdity of a name - it came right out of Sirius’ mouth when he was listing off the family members he actually liked. Of course Remus remembered that.

“Really?”

“Yup.” The girl kicked at the carpet flooring with her tiny sandal that looked so silly in contrast to Remus’ clown shoes. She walked away and stood in front of two twin hallways. She stood there for quite some time, floating to one and then the other and then back again. Remus approached her after her fifth loop around and startled her. That’s what he got for his years in the Marines, during which he was instructed to keep his footing padded and inaudible.

“Oh, sorry. Are you lost?” he asked her.

She shook her head.

“Are you sure?”

She pointed to the two hallways. “I don’t remember which hallway I came from. If I remembered that, I’d know my way.”

Remus nodded. “Do you remember anything special about the hallway you came from? Like, did it have a picture frame or a plant pot in it? Something that made it stand out?”

The girl kicked her sandals together rhythmically and shrugged.

“Okay… how about we try out a hallway and see if it works? Your parents are probably worried about you.”

The girl smiled and all of her little baby teeth and the gaps between them illuminated her face. Remus had never imagined himself as a father, but he reasoned that if he ever had a child of his own look at him like that it might be healing enough for him to forget half of his life’s misfortunes.

“Okay.” She grabbed his hand and led him down the left hallway.

“What’s your name?”

“Nymphadora, but my parents call me Dora. I like Dora better. Which one do you like better?”

“You know what, I think I like Dora too.”

At the end of the hallway stood an advancing figure whose curls Remus recognized - it was Mary.

“Oh, I remember! That lady was at the end of the hallway I came from,” Dora explained.

Mary’s smile wasn’t as healing, but Remus supposed it was quite nice as well. “Well, look at you, Remus.”

He smiled politely and let Nymphadora go off on her own way after hearing a, “thanks” from her.

“You’re good with kids, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Not at all. I’ve only ever worked with people my age.”

“Oh. That’s right, with the club thing. Well listen, she did look pretty happy so I’ll give you that.”

Remus shook his head. “Kids are always happy.” Well, most of the time.

“Anyway. If you aren’t making friends with the guests on this boat you’ve still got the staff under your belt.”

Remus arched a brow at her choice of words. “I’ve what?”

“You know, you’ve gotten pretty cosy with some of the staff here. Sirius and I included.”

Yeah right. “Isn’t everybody kind of close with Sirius, though? He’s our boss.”

Mary just laughed. “No, you’re the closest one out of all of us, which is odd considering you’re new.”

“What’s the criteria for deciding who’s closest?” Remus asked, curiosity overcoming his desire to put an end to the conversation.

“Spending about ten minutes of the early morning in a kitchen pantry with him is its own part of the rubric,” Mary replied sneakily.

“We weren’t hanging out there,” Remus interjected. “Do you think we were just sitting on buckets of rice, having a quick chat?”

Mary shrugged one shoulder. “Wouldn’t put it past you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You guys are really cute, that’s all I’m saying.”

Remus could feel his ears and neck itching with heat. “That’s not even remotely close.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

Mary smiled and raised her perfectly-shaped brows. “Oh. My bad, then.”

She looked opportunistic and Remus looked alarmed and nothing more was said between the two of them. But maybe Mary’s hypothesis was right, because not a minute later another figure approached him. It was Barty, as promised, and it took everything in Remus not to freak out on him in the presence of Mary.

“I’m on one of the floors way up, but I don’t know which one,” Barty sighed. “Help me?”

“Fine.”

Remus followed after Barty with every single curse word he knew on his tongue. Barty’s own pierced tongue wouldn’t stop rambling on and on about how nervous he was for the upcoming set, and if Remus thought his band was good, and thanking him for being so cool about last night. He somehow came out of that situation unscarred which was fucking unfair to Remus. Tough luck.

“So, anyway, when I was crowd surfing, somebody legit ripped my belly button piercing out. Evan had picked out the gig for us but I’ll never let him do that again,” Barty reminisced.

“Do you have one area of your body that isn’t pierced or covered with tattoos?” Remus asked, genuinely curious.

“I would say my ass, but that’s tattooed too. Wanna see?”

Remus barked out one harsh laugh and shook his head.

“Fair enough. Come on, wanna see backstage quick before we start performing?”

Spending another minute with Barty, who just offered to show his ass tattoo to Remus, sounded awful. But Remus wanted to familiarise himself with all the rooms on the ship. He sucked up his pride and followed Barty into the room with smoke machines and par lights. Regulus was back there too, and Remus smiled at him politely.

“Vous n'êtes pas du tout préparés pour le concert,” Regulus mumbled from his spot on one of the bean bags.

“You know I hate when you use words I can’t understand,” Barty complained. “Be a grown up and have a conversation with us.”

“No.”

“Reg is barely a grown up,” the guitarist added.

“You’re right, only eighteen.”

“Only eighteen? I find eighteen to be pretty old,” Regulus replied.

“To be running a cruise ship? What kind of reasoning is that?”

“It’s not my cruise ship. It’s Sirius’,” Regulus corrected. His eyes skirted Remus for a fleeting moment.

“Yeah, well. With the rate he’s going at he’ll overdose before he can get around to doing a couple years worth of cruising,” Barty said, casual as ever.

Remus hadn’t realised he was spectating until he found his voice. It was wrapped in a red boxing glove and all the anger he’d been storing for Barty came barreling out with no intention of stopping until the boy bled from his ringed nose.

“Why the hell would you say that?” he asked.

Barty grinned at Remus. “Overdosing, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d be shocked if you didn’t agree.”

“I’m not going to talk about Sirius because he isn’t here.”

Remus wondered why he was the one sticking up for Sirius. Why not Regulus? Sirius had described Regulus as one of the better family members. But if that was true, why wasn’t he protecting his brother’s name on the topic of addiction? Was he non-confrontational, did he think Sirius deserved it, was Sirius’ bar for kindness really low? All he knew was that Regulus - a man who’d known Sirius his entire life - should have been more of a hero than Remus - who’d known Sirius barely a month.

Remus exited the backstage and descended the stairs all the way down to the floor his cabin was on. Maybe he was supposed to be on duty, but there were so many other butlers. Butlers with friendly faces. This thought reminded him of James and he smiled. He got to his cabin and sank onto his bed with James’ contact pulled up. It was indeed a friendless summer, or even a friendless life. James had so many friends. So many that he couldn’t even decide on a best friend. It felt bad to know that James was Remus’ best friend, but James’ best friend… probably wasn’t Remus.

Remus curled onto his other side and set his phone down. He napped for a few hours and woke up feeling shitty.

His phone read 12:32 in the morning. He got out of bed and strolled down to one of the late bars that was still open for those whose only company were their morbid thoughts. The drinks helped, always. Remus sat on a barstool and watched a blond bartender go around giving drinks to those who were pushing midnight to the limit. Those who were pushing their limit to the limit. He sat in quiet solitude until the bartender got to him.

“What are you having?”

“Uh, beer. Thanks.”

Was he allowed to drink onboard? Probably not. But nightcaps in the midst of nightmares were the most soothing lullaby of all. A beer was slipped his way and he accepted it in a few greedy gulps. With nowhere else to go, he walked the halls of the cruise ship again. It might look like he was on duty.

He neared a balcony where the full moon was clear as the ice in his glass. It drew him closer, closer, until he hadn’t even realised he was a few steps away from the railing. With one final step of his shaky legs, he clutched the gold railing and retched into the ocean.