talk
To the annoyance of every person counting on him to write another book, Remus had been running around with Sirius for almost a week. Remus would have felt slightly guilty about this if he hadn’t known that he wouldn’t have been able to write even if he had sat at his desk for ten hours a day and wrote. In the gaps of time when Remus had time to think, he worried that he would never be able to write a book again.
It wasn’t about the money anymore. He could support himself just fine. After going through Columbia and meeting all the people he had, Remus had enough contacts that he could get a job almost anywhere if his books suddenly stopped selling.
The problem was he wanted to write a book. He missed writing. He longed for the characters he hadn’t created yet and to fix the issues they didn’t have yet. There was a force inside him that he desperately ached to be spilled into an idea.
His phone vibrated across the couch. Groaning, Remus moved as little as he could to reach it. Glancing at the caller ID, he saw that Sirius was calling him, so he quickly answered.
“Hey,” Remus spoke into the phone, straightening his posture automatically.
“Are you home?” Sirius asked. Remus could hear something in the background, but it was too faint to make out.
“I am, yeah,” he replied and could have sworn that he heard a ding through the phone.
“Great,” was the only thing Sirius said before he hung up the phone.
Remus pulled the phone from his ear with confusion. It was late in the evening, and the last time he had seen Sirius was yesterday. Sirius had said that he would spend most of the day in the studio, which had, in turn, inspired Remus to try to work himself, but he had gotten almost nowhere, as predicted. Though, he could feel something in his mind. It didn’t do him any good because he didn’t know what that something was, but it was better than nothing.
There was a knock at the door, and amid his laziness, he considered not answering. However, at the second knock, Remus knew he had to get up. A few moments later, and about three locks, Remus pulled the door open to discover Sirius behind it. He had his thick scarf and hat on, which made Remus wonder why he hadn’t taken them off until Remus realized it was probably so no one would recognize him.
“Are you going to let me in?” Sirius questioned, forcing Remus to snap out of his thoughts.
Wordlessly, he moved aside to let Sirius in. After he closed the door, he noticed the multiple bags Sirius had walked in with. There was a black tote bag and a paper bag that looked suspiciously full of takeout. Sirius began taking off his coat and other extensive winter garments that concealed his identity.
“What do you do during summer?” Remus asked, taking the paper bag into the kitchen.
Sirius followed him. “What do you mean?”
Remus began pulling out white boxes and opening them to find different types of noodle dishes that made his mouth water. “Well, during the winter, you walk around with your face covered with scarves. What do you do during summer?” he repeated, grabbing the pairs of chopsticks and setting them next to the boxes.
Sirius thought about it for a bit, giving Remus the time to move all the food onto the coffee table in front of the couch he had sat on a few minutes ago. “Sunglasses go a long way. But also, a lot of the time, I’m either touring or in a country where I don’t have to hide my face as much, just my name,” he answered.
Remus nodded. “Is one of these for you, or are we sharing?” He gestured to the boxes of takeout food as he sat beside his laptop, which was still open.
“I figured we’d share,” Sirius replied, sitting next to Remus, his knee resting on Remus’ thigh. “Is that your new book?” He was looking at the computer that was blaring white at them.
“It’s supposed to be at least, but there’s nothing.” Remus picked up the laptop and scrolled through the document, showing Sirius its emptiness, then shut it and replaced it on the coffee table for one of the takeout boxes.
“Are my songs not inspiring enough?” he joked, and Remus didn’t know how Sirius knew he was using Sirius’ songs to inspire himself.
He decided to act like he knew Sirius knew. “They’re not.” Remus said in monotone. “Write better songs, preferably about historical fiction.”
A flush rose onto Sirius’ face. “It was James’ idea, but I wrote some songs about your books. They inspired me,” he explained quietly.
“It was you.” Remus set his box down on the table next to the other one. “You stole my inspiration.”
Unsurprisingly, a smirk found its way onto Sirius’ face. “I suppose I did,” he confessed in a low voice that would have made Remus offer it to him willingly.
“Give it back,” Remus whispered, inching closer to Sirius with every passing second.
“No,” he refused, eyes flickering to Remus’ lips in anticipation.
“Give it back,” Remus repeated, moving his hand to grip the back of the couch.
“No,” Sirius breathed.
“I suppose I’ll just have to take it then.” Remus didn’t waste another moment before kissing Sirius.
Sirius let Remus lower him until he was practically on top of Sirius, properly making out with him. The slide of Sirius’ tongue. The way his hands were making their way under Remus’ sweater. His shallow breathing. Really, it was all enough to make Remus die.
Remus had once wondered why people were so obsessed with kissing. He had silently judged as he heard his friends go on and on about it. He had even gone as far as shying away from romance in his books for a while so he wouldn’t have to deal with writing kiss scenes. Though, now– now, he understood. There wasn’t a minute in his day that he wouldn’t spend kissing Sirius.
Sirius, who was nipping at Remus’ bottom lip, drinking him in like he was whiskey, making these little noises that Remus preferred over any song he could sing.
It could have been hours or days in the time it took Remus to pull away slowly, basking in the sight of Sirius’ red, swollen lips. He was in tune with every short breath Sirius took, looking like he would pull Remus in for more. He had a way of making Remus feel like a teenager again.
Clearing his throat to be able to speak in more than rasps, Remus didn’t move. “Should we eat?” he suggested because he truly was hungry and didn’t plan on letting Sirius leave anytime soon.
“It’ll be cold by now,” Sirius pointed out.
Something about his British accent made Remus want him never to shut up, which was saying a lot because Remus typically got easily annoyed with how much people talked. Yet, all he wanted was Sirius to speak. He could say anything, and Remus would remember each word and reply them in his head like a song.
“Right,” he breathed, then decided he could wait for a little bit longer and lowered his head once more.
Their food was fully cold by the time Remus and Sirius got around to eat. They had moved the noodles from the boxes onto the plates so they could microwave them and then settled in on the couch. Sirius had chosen a movie, and if Remus was being honest, he hadn’t been paying attention when Sirius asked if he wanted to watch it. Remus had been fully concentrated on Sirius.
Sirius was the most beautiful person Remus had ever met, and while Sirius certainly knew he was attractive, Remus didn’t think he understood the extent. It wasn’t just how he looked, but the soul that was under his skin. Sirius was beautiful, like a Renaissance painting, with a golden frame that had been lost for ages. He was meant to be adored, but no one did it right. The world loved the Sirius Black they thought they saw, but Remus saw more. He saw Sirius like only an artist could see color. He saw the brightness and the dimness. It felt like he could see everything.
It should have been impossible the way Remus had known Sirius for about a week but felt like he had known him for a lifetime. It felt like they had been together in another life, another country, another time. Being next to him filled Remus with the need to write, but he didn’t know what. Remus wondered if this was what it was like to have a muse.
He shifted his gaze from staring at Sirius back to the movie. He didn’t know what was happening in the plot, and it was too late for him to try to figure it out. Besides, there was a reason Remus didn’t typically watch movies, and it was because, as an author, he could generally guess the plots. Once you knew how a story worked, it was easy to see how it would end.
A woman on the screen said something in French that made Sirius chuckle. Remus didn’t understand what had been spoken because he hadn’t taken French in school.
“What’d she say?” Remus asked quietly because his mouth was right next to Sirius’ ear. At some point throughout the movie, Sirius had fallen against him.
“She ridiculed Andrew because he–” Sirius started explaining but then abruptly cut himself off. He quickly pushed himself up and stared at Remus like he had seen a ghost. “I need to go,” he announced, and Remus wasn’t sure if Sirius was talking to Remus or himself.
“Sirius?” Remus called out, watching as Sirius darted to the door, a hand at his head. Remus followed him. “What’s wrong?”
Sirius continued to put on his shoes, not looking at Remus anymore. “Nothing.” Sirius pulled on his jacket. “It was a lovely night.” He placed his hat on and threw his scarf around his neck. “I’ll see you later.”
Remus tried to touch him, to stop him, to make him explain, but Sirius stepped back. “Si–”
“Bye,” Sirius said, then stepped out the door, leaving Remus utterly confused.
Wracking his head for something he had done wrong, Remus almost fell, tripping on something on the floor. He looked down to find the black tote bag Sirius had left behind. Remus picked it up and hung it on the hooks near the door.
The movie was still playing on the television, and Remus made it a point to rewind until he hit the part where Sirius had run, but there was nothing weird about it. He had only asked Sirius what the characters were saying because he seemed to have understood.
It was past two, and Remus was too tired to decipher what had gone wrong. He got in bed and thought about what it could have been until he fell asleep, ending up with less of a clue than he had had in the first place.
* * *
Light was reaching through his bedroom when knocking on the door woke Remus. He reached for his phone to learn it was around ten in the morning. Remus typically didn’t get eight hours of sleep for whatever reason, and whenever there wasn’t a reason, he simply couldn’t sleep. It had been a long time since he had slept for so long.
The knocking persisted, and Remus had to pull himself out of bed, wearing only his pajamas to answer. He was going to kill whoever was behind that door for waking him when for the first time in ages, he had actually been sleeping.
Already grumbling about his sleep deprivation, Remus moved to turn the locks but found they had been left unlocked. He hadn’t even thought about it after Sirius had gone. A spout of adrenaline filled him when he realized anyone could have just walked in during the night.
There was another knock, and Remus found Regulus with a suitcase on his doorstep. “What are you doing here?” he asked, scanning Regulus for any injuries. Regulus looked fine– a little distraught, but fine.
Regulus pushed past Remus, who only rolled his eyes and closed the door, locking it before he followed Regulus into his apartment.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, watching as Regulus pushed the suitcase against a wall, right under Sirius’ tote bag.
“I just kissed James Potter.”
Remus felt his heart drop.