As More

Everything is just right: the room is well-lit, the new furniture is adding a well-needed splash of colour to the place, the punters are chatting loudly, and Sirius Black is relishing seeing his pub in full swing.

The Dog's Paw, the public house that Sirius purchased and fixed up using his uncle’s inheritance, is somewhat of a haven for Sirius. It started off as a passion project, something he could do to pass the time whilst he figured out what he wanted to do with his life, but it ended up becoming his purpose.

Sirius lives above the pub and every bit of the place – from the mismatched furniture to the expensive hardwood floors to the art on the walls and the floor-to-ceiling windows – has his heart and soul in it. He invests time and money into the establishment, and it shows. That said, while he is technically the owner and manager, he’s not much of a boss if he’s being honest. He trusts his staff – mainly Remus, who basically manages the place for him but who refuses to take an official promotion or any extra credit or pay – to do what’s needed.

It is a Tuesday evening and if you were to randomly walk in off the street, you might think that it was a busy night because the place is bustling, but the truth is that Tuesdays and Wednesdays are amongst their slowest nights. The Dog's Paw just happens to be a popular place, for which Sirius is grateful.

Sirius is currently sitting at the bar with a half-pint of lemonade in hand as he watches the crowd with his usual interest. He has always been fascinated by other people and the lives they lead – the fact that other people exist, people with complex emotions and individual backstories, who have hates and likes and pet peeves... it has always intrigued him.

Sirius hears a sharp crack and a loud cackle, and he glances over his shoulder to the pool table in the corner where two couples are laughing and playing a game. Sirius observes them, only mildly envious of their happiness. He wants that – that easy sort of companionship, that obvious display of love – and has wanted it for... well, ages. But it’s not in the cards for him. Not at the moment, anyhow; not with his heart belonging to his oblivious and definitely-not-into-him best friend.

Sirius sighs and turns back to his drink, feeling his thoughts becoming maudlin. He glances over to said best friend who is pouring a cocktail and laughing politely with a customer. Remus hands the cocktail pitcher and two glasses over to a blonde woman, takes her money, and then hands her the correct change – always the correct change, because Remus is good at his job. The woman wanders back to her booth of friends, smiling to herself and throwing a flirtatious wink at Remus over her shoulder.

Remus seems to sense eyes on him and when he looks up, his hazel eyes find Sirius easily. Sirius doesn’t look away – partly because that’s just not who he is but also because he is always looking at Remus – and he watches as Remus makes his way over.

“Need a refill, boss?” Remus asks, quirking a brow because he knows that Sirius doesn’t like the title – boss, like he is in charge of Remus. Ha! Like anyone could be in charge of Remus Lupin.

“No, thank you, underling,” he replies blithely, hiding a smile behind his glass when Remus chuckles at the returned moniker. He glances over to the booth in the corner where the blonde is sitting with her friends. He turns back to his friend and says, “She’s very pretty. Why didn’t you ask her out?”

Remus quirks an eyebrow. “Who?”

“That woman,” he says, nodding to the booth. “She likes you.”

“No, she doesn’t,” he denies, but Remus is not dumb, nor is he oblivious. He knows fine well that the pretty blonde was and is into him.

“Yes, she does – and you know it,” Sirius replies, and then after a second of hesitation, he adds, “Is it because... It’s been a year, Remus.”

It has technically been fourteen months, three weeks, and two days since Remus Lupin was left at the altar (technically it wasn’t the altar, Remus would say; technically it was the little room he had to stand in before he was allowed to stand at the altar). Sirius knows it has been fourteen months, three weeks, and two days because he has spent every day wondering if Remus is okay and how he can make Remus smile and when Remus will meet the actual One and make it down the aisle. 

“I know, it’s not...” Remus trails off with a shrug.

But Sirius isn’t one to let sleeping dogs lie, so he says, “What? You don’t think you should move on?”

Remus rolls his eyes and tuts, “Don’t act like I’ve been spending the last year pining after Em. You know I haven’t. I’ve been on dates – lots of them. It’s just, well... They’ve all been a bit shit. I’m not— I mean, they don’t... They don’t want me. They want someone – something else. Something that I apparently can’t give them. I guess I’m just unlovable.”

Remus ends this with a bitter chuckle, like it’s a joke, but it makes Sirius frown because he knows that it is not a joke – not to Remus. No, this is genuinely what Remus thinks about himself. Sirius knows this because he knows Remus Lupin. He knows everything about the man, from the beautiful good to the spectacular bad to the downright cringeworthy.

Remus has been seeing a councillor and therapist by the name of Poppy Pomfrey for the last three or four months and it has been going well, but Remus has an entire hangar full of baggage to unpack and resolve. Being told that he isn’t good enough, that he’s a disappointment, that he’s unlovable by his dad for basically his entire childhood, these thoughts don’t just go away, and he’s working on it. Sirius knows this. But that doesn’t mean he likes these self-deprecating jokes.

“Don’t say things like that, Remus,” he says, very seriously.

Remus looks shocked at this response – why, though, Sirius has no clue, as he has been reprimanding this self-debasing humour of his friend for basically all of their friendship. In the beginning, he used to laugh because he thought that it was just Remus having a lark – but then he realised that it wasn’t a joke. Sometimes he lets Remus get away with it, but most of the time, he doesn’t.

Remus offers an easy smile, clearly trying to diffuse the situation, and says, “I’m just joking, Sirius.”

“You aren’t, though, are you?” he retorts.

“Sirius,” Remus mutters, glancing around the room – as if people can hear them, as if people are paying any sort of attention to them. No one is looking at them, no one is listening to them, but Remus can be right paranoid when he wants to be. “Listen, I was just—”

“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it,” he cuts in.

Remus doesn’t reply because if there is one thing that Remus Lupin doesn’t do, it is lie to his friends. To say that he did not mean it, that he doesn’t think this way, would be an outright lie – and one that Remus knows Sirius would see through.

Remus looks at him, then; focuses all of his attention on Sirius, his hazel eyes intense. It is invigorating, having all of Remus Lupin’s attention to himself. Sirius supposes that he should feel pitiful and pathetic for carrying a torch for his best friend for, what, ten years? Longer than that, almost definitely. It should be embarrassing but it isn’t. He doesn’t feel pathetic or embarrassed or ashamed. Most of the time, he just feels hopeful – with every look, every touch, every word, every moment they spend together, Sirius feels hopeful that one day his friend will wake up, realise that Sirius loves him and that he loves Sirius back, and confess his feelings.

“Remus, you are not unlovable,” Sirius says, his words quiet but not so much that they get lost in the background noise.

“I don’t want to talk about this here,” Remus mutters in response.

“Fine,” Sirius says, then he stands up from his stool and calls, “Tom, keep an eye on the bar, will you?”

Tom, the other bartender who works almost as many shifts as Remus, waves them off as Sirius rounds the bar and drags his friend into the back storeroom where they keep the spare pint glasses and costly bottles of alcohol. He pushes a reluctant Remus into the small room and shuts the door behind them. The silence is sudden and weighty.

“You are not unlovable,” he repeats, voice as quiet as it had been outside, yet the words loud and clear in the cramped space.

Remus sighs and leans back against the shelves. “I kind of am, though, aren’t I?” he replies. “I mean – my dad left me, my fiancée left me, and it’s no question why. I’m useless, I’m a waste of air. I know that you think differently but I just...” He shrugs defeatedly, the movement making the empty glasses on the shelf behind him clink together. “I just know it.”

Sirius frowns, wondering how on Earth he can make this dense fuck realise just how loved he is.

Everyone loves Remus, it is the one universally agreed thing: Remus Lupin is amazing and deserves all the love in the world. It aggravates Sirius that his friend doesn’t see how brilliant he is; how smart and lovely and kind and funny and wicked he is, with a dry sense of humour that can make anyone swoon. Remus is all of this and more, and it is quite frankly disgusting that he doesn’t see it.

In the end, all he can think to say is: “Remus, you are not unlovable, because I love you.”

Remus stares at him for a long second before he offers a soft smile and says, “I know. I know, Sirius. I know that you and James and Pete and Lily and my mam and... I know that I’m loved, okay? I just – I’m working on remembering that. Poppy and I working on it.”

It is an out – an accidental one, but one all the same. Remus hasn’t understood him correctly, doesn’t realise that Sirius has just thrown his heart on the floor at Remus’s feet. It is an out and he should take it, really, to save himself from awkwardness and spare himself from the pain of outright rejection. But then he feels it – that flutter of hope that emerges whenever Remus is nearby – and he can’t help it when he says:

“No, Remus, I...” He hesitates for a second before he repeats, “I love you.”

Remus frowns, clearly unsure. “Like... as a friend?”

Sirius sighs and leans back against the opposite shelf, the expensive bottles of champagne and whisky clinking behind him. “Sure, as a friend,” he says. “But also... as more.”

Remus stares at him for a long moment before he says, “As more? As in, you— Wait, hold on. Let me just... Am I reading this right? You’re saying that you...”

“That I am head over arse in love with you?” Sirius finishes, quirking a brow. “Yes.”

Remus’s frown does not abate as he shakes his head dumbly and says, “No. No, that doesn’t make any sense because you’re...” He gestures to Sirius as a whole, like that explains what he seemingly cannot. “I mean, you can’t... How long?”

“How long?” Sirius repeats, and he actually takes a second to think about it.

How long has it been? It feels like his heart has belonged to Remus Lupin their whole lives – and maybe it has if soulmates really do exist. But realistically speaking, he has only known Remus since they were thirteen years old. If Remus hadn’t been a late admission to their secondary school, they would have known each other for an extra two years and he probably would’ve been in love for that little bit longer.

He answers, “Probably since you pinged that rubber band at Mr Binns and got yourself into detention just so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Sirius can see the cogs turning in Remus’s head – can see the other man thinking back and working out how long it has been. Fifteen years, give or take a few months.

After a second, Remus says, “Sirius, that was, what, a week into knowing me?”

Sirius nods mutely.

Remus shakes his head like he can’t quite grasp it. “No, you can’t’ve... Are you actually telling me that you’ve been in love with me all this time, and you haven’t said anything?”

Sirius shrugs in response, offering a somewhat bitter smile. “Yes.”

Remus frowns and says, “Wh... Why?”

“Why?” he repeats. “Why do I love you or why did I not say anything?”

“Either. Both.”

Sirius hums and thinks about his answer before he says, “I don’t think I could give you a reason as to why I love you. There is no specific reason, I just do. I suppose... I just love being around you. You make me laugh, and you’re always there for me. When I’m having a bad day, you’re cracking jokes or bringing me chocolate or just being there. And you’re so nice. You’ve been through so much, yet you have time to be kind. And you give me a chance to be quiet and not feel weird. I love the way you make me feel, like I’m good or worthy or whatever. It’s just you, everything you are, everything you make me feel. And I didn’t say anything because...”

He sighs, thinking of all the excuses he could give – he didn’t think Remus would want him, he wanted to protect their friendship, he didn’t want to force Remus into anything that wasn’t mutual, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t wrong, he didn’t want to make things awkward between them or in their group, he wanted to be completely sure, he didn’t want to know the truth...

“I was scared,” he admits, looking down at his feet. “I’ve always been quite certain that nothing would come from it, and I was happy – I am happy with just being your friend, Remus. I love you, in every way, but I don’t – I don’t need more than this. I have what I need. I have you.”

Remus doesn’t seem to know how to react.

For a second, he just stands there. Then he nods rapidly and takes an uneven breath through his nose. Then he starts flapping his hands like he is trying to get rid of some invisible water on them. Sirius realises quickly that his friend is on the verge of a panic attack. It has been a while since Remus has had an attack, but Sirius knows what is needed and is quick to react. He grabs the back of Remus’s neck and pushes down so that Remus is forced to crouch, his head ducked low.

“Take a deep breath, Remus,” he orders. “In, one-two-three, out, one-two three. Good, like that. And again... Good. And again.”

After a good few minutes, Remus’s breathing has evened out and the man seems to have calmed down. They are both sitting on the floor now, shoulder to shoulder, backs against the shelves.

“Sorry,” Remus apologises with a self-conscious sniff. “I’m sorry. That was... probably not the reaction you wanted.”

“It’s fine, Remus,” he replies, even though his friend is right; it is rather disheartening to know that his grand declaration of love was met with utter panic.

“It’s just— It’s a lot to process, y’know? I just—”

“Remus, honestly, don’t worry,” he cuts in. “I understand. Please don’t apologise. I should be the one saying sorry here.”

“What? No—”

“No, I should,” he says, looking down at his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry for springing it on you like this. It was unfair of me to unburden myself whilst simultaneously burdening you. I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you, Remus. I just thought you should know that someone loves you. I think the world of you, and my life would not be the same without you in it.”

Sirius pauses to gather his thoughts. He glances over at his friend only to find Remus looking at Sirius’s hands. He doesn’t know what to think about that, so he doesn’t.

He continues, “I know that you and Poppy are working on... on you seeing yourself in a good light, but I want you to know that I’ve always seen you like that, Remus. Always. I don’t know why your dad or Emmeline couldn’t see how fucking brilliant you are, but I do. I see it. I see you. All of your neuroses and your quirks and your chaos, I see it all and I love you anyway. Because they’re all you and, like I said, you’re amazing.”

Remus frowns and doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just sits and stares at Sirius’s hands. When he does finally speak, it is thoughtful and quiet, like he is in the middle of solving something particularly tricky. “I love you, too,” he finally says.

Sirius smiles sadly. “As a friend, I know,” he says.

“No,” Remus replies, his hazel eyes moving from Sirius’s hands to the man’s face. He studies Sirius with great care, as always. “I mean, yes, you’re my best friend, obviously I love you as a friend should, but maybe...”

Sirius feels something like possibility crawl through his body, waiting and waiting and waiting for words that may never come. He tries valiantly to push it down because now is not the time to get his hopes up.

“Em used to get so jealous of you, did you know that?” Remus asks, but it is a rhetorical question. “She used to say that I talked about you too much. You and the others, but she used to take real umbrage with you. I never understood why. But she used to say that I talked about you more than I talked about her, and I guess... maybe she was right.”

Sirius stays silent, unsure about what might be happening and far too scared to break the stride Remus is on. He can feel hope pushing back at him, and he waits patiently for Remus to get to the point.

“Maybe I do talk about you a lot,” Remus murmurs. “But that’s only because you’re all I ever think about.” His eyes focus sharply on Sirius’s face, and he says, “I think about you all the time, Sirius. I think about if you’ll like a certain song or book or film. I think about how you like your coffee and what we’ll do at the weekend. I think about doing boring stuff, like doing the dishes or going shopping, and how it wouldn’t be boring if I was with you. I think about your laugh, and I wonder what I have to do, what I have to say, just to hear it again. I think about how your day is going and if you’ll want to talk when you get home, or if you’ll want to sit in silence. And sometimes... Sometimes I think about kissing you, and that’s not new.”

Sirius feels his heart fly into his throat at those words.

“I think about holding your hand, too, and other stuff. But I think about kissing you all the time which I realise now probably means my feelings for you are a bit more than platonic. So, maybe Em was right. Maybe I did talk about you too much, and maybe that’s why she left. Maybe she knew something that I didn’t. Maybe I love you too. As a friend, but also as... as more.”

Sirius doesn’t know what to do. He has dreamed about this moment for literal years. He has wondered and wished and hoped, and now that it is finally here, he doesn’t know how to react. He wills himself to say something – anything – but nothing is forthcoming, so he just sits there like a big dumb oaf. Remus watches him for a long moment before he nods determinedly and says:

“I know that I’m a mess, Sirius. Believe me, I know that. I’m working on it, you know I am. And I know that just because you said you loved me, it doesn’t mean that you want anything to change, but if you want... I mean, if you were up for it, we could maybe grab a drink? Like... in a date setting? Or we can go and get food, or something?”

Sirius opens his mouth, but nothing comes out and he feels the prickle of embarrassment over his skin as he finds himself quite literally speechless. Remus seems to take the muteness as a negative as he frowns and looks away and says:

“Or we could just... We could just leave everything as it is. We don’t have to— Nothing has to change. We’re mates, right? First and foremost. We don’t have to do anything—”

Sirius finally manages to get his vocal cords to start working and he practically shouts, “No!”

Remus stops and looks at Sirius, his eyes alight with what Sirius realises is hope – a mutual sort of hope that he hasn’t got this wrong, that they want the same thing, that this can work out.

“I want to,” Sirius says. “Whatever you want, we can... A date sounds great. If you’re sure, that is.”

Remus nods rapidly and replies, “Yeah, I... I think so. I want to try, at least.”

Sirius grins brightly, unable to temper it and unwilling to do so. He is fucking ecstatic because he has a date with the love of his life, and he refuses to let Remus think he is anything but. He finds himself thinking that if he were a star in Stardust, his happiness would be so great that he’d be glowing so brightly, and he’d end up burning the fucking mortals’ eyes out. Remus is watching him carefully and after a second, he smiles too – a calmer smile, but just as bright.

They stare at each other for good few seconds, and something seems to click in that time because they both start leaning in. Tom, however, with his impeccably bad timing, bangs on the storeroom door and lets himself in without so much as a how-do-you-do. Remus and Sirius don’t exactly jump apart, but they do shift back so that it just looks like they’re sitting on the storeroom’s floor, chatting like two completely normal platonic mates, and not two people who were definitely about to kiss.

“Alright, gaffer?” he greets Sirius, and then turns to Remus and says, “Mate, I need you out there. I’m going on my break and that old geezer – you know the one, with the gold tooth and wallpaper jacket? Yeah, he’s gonna need a refill in about thirty seconds.”

Remus nods and says, “Alright, I’ll be out in a second.”

Tom looks between them for barely a second before he nods and exits.

With a small sigh, Remus stands up and hauls Sirius up so that they are both back on their feet. Sirius brushes himself down for lack of anything else to do. He wants to ask Remus when their date will be and if Remus will want to tell their friends about this development and if Remus will kiss him now or later or both, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to overwhelm the other man who, not ten minutes ago, had a panic attack because Sirius said he loved him.

Sirius releases a breath, offers a smile to Remus, and then opens the door to the storeroom. Before he can fully exit, though, Remus catches his wrist with a gentle hand and forces eye contact.

“Tomorrow, we’ll have dinner at the flat. You can cook because, let’s be honest, I’m abysmal at anything other than toasties. And we’ll see if this...” He waves his free hand between them. “...has any legs. And if it does, we’ll – we’ll figure it out. And we can tell the others, if you want. After. If this is something.”

Sirius finds himself both surprised and delighted that Remus has taken charge – that Remus seems to have known what was on his mind without him voicing it. He nods in response and says, “It’s a date.”

Remus offers him another small but beatific grin and nods. “Great,” he says. “Brilliant. It’s a date. Can I, um... You can say no, obviously, but I know that if I don’t ask, I’ll be thinking about it all night—”

“What is it, Remus?” he cuts in.

“Can I... Can I kiss you? Now, I mean. And maybe tomorrow as well?”

“Yes,” Sirius replies, without hesitation.

Remus grins sheepishly and moves forward. He leans in and down because Sirius is a bit shorter than him, and he very gently places a kiss on Sirius’s lips. Sirius wants to keep it chaste – it being their first (hopefully of many) kiss – but he can’t stop himself from leaning into it, his hands coming up to rest on Remus’s biceps. Remus doesn’t seem to mind, though, as his own hands come around so that one rests on Sirius’s back and the other on Sirius’s neck.

“That was, um – thanks,” Remus says when they part.

Sirius laughs and mutters a quiet, “You’re welcome,” and then they leave the storeroom, lest Tom come back and find them.

It is safe to say that there is no going back for Sirius, not after what might be the best first kiss he has ever experienced. This is it for him and has been since they were both thirteen-year-old idiots. And he hopes the same can be said for Remus.

Hope is a funny thing, he thinks, because as he looks at Remus later that evening, sharing shy glances across the bar, he thinks he might be right – this is it for them, make or break, and he thinks they might be about to make something brilliant.