“Merde,” Sirius cusses as a large loc of black hair falls to the floor.
It’s about 1 o’clock in the morning and Sirius should be sleeping, but instead here he is standing in the Potters washroom with a pair of rusty scissors impulsively hacking away at his hair.
Sirius has never cut his own hair. when he lived at the estate his mother would take him to someone to get it done.
But, he had ran away from the black family home 6 months ago and hasn’t had a haircut since then. his hair had grown a significant amount in that time. Just pass his collar bone.
The length doesn’t bother him much. He’s seen many muggle men in magazines with beautiful long hair.
In one of the magazines Remus had gifted him there is a whole page dedicated on how to get that “70s shag cut.” That article is what prompted him to cut his hair.
A knock on the washroom door causes Sirius to jump. He drops the scissors—just barely missing his foot in the process—he grabs a towel from the rack and wraps his hair up.
“Are you alright in there?” He hears a muffled voice from behind the door and his heart stops.
It was Remus, who was also staying with the potters over the winter hols.
Merlin why did it have to be him? Sirius wonders.
Remus and Sirius have been dating since the summer, but Sirius has loved him for years.
With a shaky hand he opens the door.
“Moons, love, what are you doing up?” He asks in a hushed tone.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Remus responds. He squints and rubs his eye as it adjusts to the sudden light.
He looks at the floor, no doubt noticing the chunks of hair.
“Impulsively cutting your hair Pads?” He asks. Sirius hesitates then nods.
“It’s bad, it’s so very bad,” he says and leans against the counter.
He has always felt the need to look the best in-front of his love, in-front of anyone really. It was just another black family habit he couldn’t seem to break.
Remus takes a step towards him and reaches his hand up to undo the towel. Sirius doesn’t stop him, because apparently he’s a glutton for punishment.
“Bloody hell,” Remus mutters, his lips press into a thin line. “What were you trying to do?”
Sirius points at the magazine laying on the counter. “They made it look so easy.”
Remus picks up the magazine and stares at it for a moment before looking up at Sirius again.
“Wow, you really fucked that up,” he says, letting out a breathy laugh. He holds the magazine up so he can look at both it and Sirius.
“I’m well aware,” he snaps.
“But… I think I can fix it.”
“You can?” Sirius says, eyes wide and a smile returns to his face.
“Yes, let me just find a better pair of scissors,” He says as he picks the rusty pair off the floor. “Wait here.”
Remus places a kiss on Sirius forehead, then leaves the room and doesn’t come back for a few minutes, but to Sirius it feels like an eternity. When he returns he has a stool and a new pair of scissors.
He places the stool down and pats it, telling him to sit. Sirius does.
“Keeping it long?” Remus asks, running a hand through Sirius hair.
“Yes- if thats okay?”
“‘Anything you want, love.”
With that Remus makes the first cut, then another, and another until each side was at an even length and the ends weren’t choppy.
He grabs a hair tie and ties up half of Sirius hair and cuts a sizeable chunk off, which makes Sirius wince.
“It’s fine Pads, just adding some layers,” he reassures. His voice is soft and addicting. Even the most mundane of sentences makes Sirius’ heart flutter. He could listen to Remus’ voice for a thousand lifetimes and never get sick of it.
Remus unties his hair and fluffs it up with his hands. Sirius sees a smile tug at his lips, obviously proud of his work.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers and rests his hands on Sirius’ shoulders. He places a kiss on his head.
“Really?” Sirius asks quietly. He looks down at his lap. When he looks into a mirror beautiful is the last word that comes to mind. He’d been trained his whole life to notice the imperfections of himself. Remus seemed to be blind to those, or maybe he didn’t care if Sirius wasn’t perfect.
“You, Pads, Are the most prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”
“Prettier than Bowie?”
“So much prettier.”
Sirius giggles.
The two are silent for a few beats as they look into each other’s eyes, smiling tenderly. Sirius wishes he could stay in this moment forever.
Sirius’ eyes involuntarily move down to Remus’ lips. They’re so close, and Sirius’ heart is pounding.
“Love,” Remus mummers and cups Sirius’ cheek in his scared hand.
And he kisses him.
Remus’ lips are soft, the softest thing Sirius has ever known. He grips Remus’ shirt tight and pulls him closer.
Every time they kiss it feels like the first. It feels just intoxicating as it had that summer evening on the dock.
When Remus kisses him, everything suddenly feels okay. The kisses aren’t perfect, in-fact they’re sloppy and very messy, but that’s okay, they don’t need to be perfect. Nothing does.
They just have to be.