Regulus Returns

Sirius

Sirius knows he’s drinking too much. It’s not like he wants to be drunk all the time. He doesn’t. He doesn’t like the way it makes him feel. He doesn’t like how sloppy and slippy he gets, how clingy and sappy he is. He hates himself as he pours that first drink. He hates the burn of it going down his calloused throat. He hates the way all the edges of the world start to blend and blur.

But he needs it. He needs the world to be softer and less real. He needs to sit outside of himself as everything spins on. What else can he do? He tried to help Regulus, he’s tried to get him to open up, or ask for help, or smile, even. But with each passing day, it becomes more and more evident that Sirius can’t help Regulus. He’s too late. He should have been there three years ago. He never should have left for the Potters. He should have stayed and been the brother he always swore to be.

It wasn’t supposed to be Regulus. This wasn’t supposed to happen to Regulus. Regulus was the good one, the safe one, the smart one. It was supposed to be Sirius, not Regulus. Sirius. So if Regulus disappears, Sirius will too.

Sirius bangs back into the apartment with a little too much force. He gave Remus the hour he asked for. Two, even. He listened to Remus bargain and plead with Sirius to get out of the house more and to spend less time hovering around Regulus. He was patient as Remus talked about plans for the two of them, and updated Sirius on the war effort. Sirius listened because he knows Remus is right.

When Regulus first showed up, Sirius was so relieved. He felt like he’d been given a second chance to be the brother he should have been in the first place. Sirius had foolish hopes that now he and Regulus could heal their divide, mend the feud they’ve had for so many years, and finally be as close as they were when they were kids. But it was all foolish hopes. It’s been weeks and Sirius isn’t any closer to getting his brother back. At first, Sirius pitied Regulus. He knows how it feels to be torn apart by their mother’s disapproval. Now, though, Regulus’s lack of progress is starting to irritate Sirius. Here Regulus is, safe and reasonably well, yet he’s still being a prim, proper prick. He walks around the flat refusing to talk to anyone, like he thinks he’s above Sirius and his friends. He has somewhere to live, food on his plate, clothes on his back, and people who care about him, yet he won’t even acknowledge them. Sirius is starting to remember how he could have left Regulus in the first place. And that thought is killing him.

He needs a drink. Something strong.

Sirius pauses in the doorway for a second, an internal war raging viciously. If he drinks, he’ll only hate himself, but if he doesn’t drink, he’ll hate himself with the added bonus of being aware how much he hates himself.

He takes a deep breath. Regulus, he should go see Regulus first. Yes, check in on Regulus, and then get a drink. That’s the right order to do it. Make sure everything’s okay, and then get plastered.

But his feet already took him to the kitchen. He’s already got his hand on a bottle. He hates it. He doesn’t want it. But if he can just get a little bit inside of him, he’ll feel so much better. Everything will be so much better.

Sirius takes a drink. And then another. Regulus came here, he reminds himself. He didn’t have to come here, but he did. That means he’s savable. Some part of the kind, generous, loving little kid Sirius once knew must still be in there. If he were truly the picture-perfect Black, Reggie wouldn’t have run. But he did. So he must be redeemable. He has to be.

As the alcohol starts hitting his system, Sirius begins to feel a bit calmer, a bit brighter. He plasters a big smile onto his face and swings around, ready to go find his brother.

Except he can’t because Remus is there. Remus is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Sirius.

Sirius smiles dopily at his boyfriend.

“Moony!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know you were there; you should have said something!”

He’s so beautiful, that Moony. His Moony.

Sirius holds out the half-empty bottle. “Want some?”

Remus frowns, “It’s barely noon, Sirius.”

Sirius shrugs “So put it in some lemonade, or something.”

Remus opens his mouth to say something, but Sirius doesn’t want to hear it. So he drags Remus into his arms and kisses him hard.

At first, Remus is resistant, not quite pulling away, but not returning the gesture. So Sirius presses harder, dragging Remus closer and pushing their hips together as he kisses him again.

“Siri—” Remus starts.

Sirius kisses harder.

“Maybe we should—”

Sirius starts grinding his front into Remus.

“Ugh, okay.” Remus relents, placing his hands on Sirius’s gyrating hips and pressing himself into them.

Finally.

Sirius pushes harder on Remus, knocking him against the table.

Remus grunts and swings Sirius around, pressing his thighs against the table.

Without removing his lips from Remus’s, Sirius jumps up on the table, widening his legs so Remus can slip in between them. And he does.

Yes, yes. This is what Sirius wanted, needed even. This is better than whiskey, better than vodka. This is what makes living worthwhile: Remus. Just Remus. His scars and his abs and his sweet, sweet eyes. The faint smell of smoke and coffee. The way he moans and gasps against Sirius’s neck.

Sirius jumps off the table and pulls Remus towards his room.

He can’t see anything other than Remus, but the two of them manage to make it down the hall.

Sirius turns the knob and yanks Remus inside, breaking lips only long enough to shut the door and cast a quick silencing charm on the room. Then, Sirius has Remus completely to himself.

Sirius has Remus.

Remus

It was so good to be that close to Sirius again. Sure, in the past few weeks they’ve had their moments: the jaunt on the full moon, the jam session in the living room, the cuddling when drunk Sirius decides to go to his own room and not Regulus’s—but it isn’t the same. It isn’t enough.

Remus had planned to go back to his own much-neglected flat after the coffee date to do some research for Dumbledore. Mostly, he thought that Sirius would be so mad at him for suggesting he spend some time away from Regulus, that staying at their flat would be a bad idea. It went well, though. Sirius was surprisingly amenable to the suggestion. They spent a lovely couple of hours out of the flat, shooting the breeze about music, bikes, and prank ideas to pull on James. It was just like old times. It seemed like everything was normal again. Until Sirius got back to the flat, that it.

On the walk back to the flat, Sirius started to get a strange look in his eyes, sort of hazy, sort of desperate, like his thoughts were elsewhere. It wasn’t an unusual look for Sirius, these days. He was walking so quickly that Remus had to hurry to keep up, even with his long strides. With the way Sirius barged through the front door, Remus couldn’t help but follow just to see what he was hurrying to.

Remus already knew Sirius is drinking too much. He was well aware that Sirius is using alcohol as a coping mechanism, but that didn’t make it any easier to see that what Sirius was rushing toward was a bottle of whiskey.

He should have pried the bottle away from him right then and there. He should have sat Sirius down and had an open and honest conversation about it. He should have reminded Sirius that being drunk won’t make his problems go away. But then Sirius kissed him. And all sense left Remus Lupin’s head.

That was hours ago, and now it’s late at night and everyone in the flat is fast asleep. Everyone except for Remus, that is. Remus is sitting in the kitchen drinking black coffee and trying to sort out all the thoughts and emotions roiling around inside of him. There is too much happening in his brain to sleep, which isn’t all that unusual, but it’s becoming the norm these days. Remus figures that maybe if he just sits down and sifts through it all he can make some sense of it. If he lists it all out in a clear, scrutinizable way, maybe he can find solutions. Maybe he can finally get some rest.

The biggest issue is Regulus. It’s his appearance that threw everything off the rails in the first place. He’s the one tearing Sirius apart. Don’t get it wrong, Remus is glad that Regulus escaped the Blacks, of course he is. No one deserves to grow up like that. And Remus is glad that Sirius and Regulus are reunited, it’s what Sirius has been hoping for for years. Still, Remus can’t help but wonder if it’s really for the best. Their reunion seems to have done nothing more than dredge up old ghosts, and neither one is handling it well. It’s like watching two men thrown overboard: Regulus is floundering because he doesn’t know how to swim, and Sirius is drowning because he’s trying too hard to keep Regulus afloat. It’s toxic, it’s dangerous, and it’s no good.

Which is why Remus and James have come up with a new plan: divide and conquer. If they can get the Black brothers apart, they might be able to make some progress. Maybe they can actually heal if they aren’t being constantly reminded of the house they ran from. It’s a slim hope, but it’s all they’ve got right now.

Remus’s part is easy. The goal is to distract Sirius, to get him focused on something other than his brother and their troubled past. All Remus has to do is get Sirius away from Regulus and doing something he’s interested in, and if today is any proof, Remus is definitely something Sirius is interested in.

James has the harder task—Regulus. Although Regulus is a little less skittish and a little more energetic than when he first arrived, it’s unlikely they’ll be able to get him out of the flat. Plus, they don’t know much about Regulus, they don’t know if he has any hobbies or interests or anything to distract him at all. All he’s done in the past couple weeks is sulk, stare, glare, or, on rare occasion, sneer. Still, if anyone can get Regulus out of his shell, it’s James. That guy is relentlessly cheerful and annoyingly endearing.

Remus sips his coffee. There isn’t enough sugar in it, but he doesn’t get up to add more. He checks the time. In four hours, Sirius will be waking up, and it’s Remus’s job to keep him busy and away from anything that might hurt him—namely, alcohol and Regulus.

Remus glances over into the living room where he’s strategically set out one of Sirius’s favorite records. If Remus plays it at just the right moment, if he kisses Sirius’s neck in just the right way, he might be able to draw Sirius into the living room before he reaches for the bottle. If he can get the guitar in Sirius’s hand before the whiskey, maybe he can put it off for a few hours at least. It'll give James a chance to get closer to Regulus, and it'll give Sirius and Remus a chance to have fun just like they did in the coffee shop, like they used to, without distractions. Remus just needs to remind Sirius that he is more than whatever happened in that house, that he is more than Regulus Black’s brother.

Remus sighs and debates making himself another cup of coffee.

Four hours. In four hours, Sirius will be awake and Remus will be on Sirius duty. With any luck, in five or six hours, Sirius will still be sober and Remus will be on Sirius’s bed.

Remus smiles sweetly as Sirius enters the kitchen, looking tired, half-awake, and incredibly sexy.

Remus tries not to stare at the way Sirius’s sleep shirt sags and reveals his sharp collarbone.

“morning, Sirius”. He greets.

Sirius stops in the doorway. “Remus?” he looks at the coffee cup in Remus’s hand with concern. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

Remus looks down, he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. He shrugs as nonchalantly as he can. “Just a rough night, you know how it is.’

Sirius nods. He’s used to Remus’s strange sleep habits. He turns to start rooting through a cabinet.

Remus jumps up before Sirius can find what he’s looking for. “I made you some tea.” Remus says. “And there are muffins on the stove over there for breakfast.”

Sirius grunts a bit and pivots to the stove.

Remus gets the tea. Distract, keep busy, that’s his job. “I was just thinking about that one song you like, you know, the one you played on repeat in the dorms until Peter had a nervous breakdown and begged you to stop.”

Remus waits for Sirius to acknowledge that he does, indeed, remember the song.

“Well, I can’t remember how the chorus went. Could you sing it for me?”

Sirius sips the tea and smiles brightly. “You want me to sing for you?”

Remus sidles up close to his boyfriend and puts a hand on his elbow. “Always, Pads. Will you?”

Sirius swallows a bit of muffin. “Sure, but—”

“Great!” Remus exclaims. So far, the plan is going well. He grabs Sirius’s hand, “Come on, do it with the guitar, too!” He starts dragging Sirius into the living room.

“What the—” Sirius gives one more longing look at the cabinets but lets himself be dragged.

Good. Good. There’s hope for him yet.