Chapter 3
Remus really shouldn’t have let Sirius sleep in with him last night. He realized his mistake the second he opened his eyes in the morning— really should’ve realized it sooner, like when Sirius’s wandering hands climbed curiously up his bare chest the night before even though the boy hadn’t even meant them to. But with Sirius splayed out beside and over him (because despite his size he always ended up taking up most of the bed) with his legs—and nearly bare ass—having fallen out of the blankets, and Remus’s sweater bunching up enough to expose the entirety of his god forsakenly slutty waist—not to mention the women’s panties that Remus had almost forgotten about—it was abundantly clear now that he had made a mistake.
That he never should’ve caved when Sirius looked so scared and defenseless the night before. Not even put up the slightest bit of a fight when the thunder had hit and shook Sirius to his core.
Because now Sirius—the same force that had broken his heart about as carelessly as one would put out a match—was half on top of him, drooling on Remus’s chest, looking absolutely unholy yet still so delicate and innocent. Remarkably peaceful in his rest, but so cruel in being so when Remus, unlike his far too unaffected star—who always seemed to escape the worst of the damage—, had not slept a wink last night. Not with Sirius’s delicate fingers wandering all over his body, or the state of alert he had to be in every time the storm outside got too loud and made Sirius flinch and go to him for comfort.
Comfort that Sirius was so selfish for taking, because he knew that Remus would always give it. Sirius had to know. After all, Remus had told him so countless times over the years. Gentle assurances on nights like the one before when Remus would kiss his worries and fears away and make him those promises, hold him tight until Sirius stopped his shaking, and there Sirius had been outside his door last night, expecting the same thing he had always relied on. And Remus had been stupid enough to give it. Now here Sirius was, peaceful, trusting and relaxed atop of Remus, soft breaths ricocheting off of Remus’s skin like bullets.
Reckless, Remus found himself grumbling, and he wasn’t sure it was directed more to Sirius or himself. Sirius certainly had been, but Remus would be deluding himself if he thought that letting Sirius in last night hadn’t been reckless as well. More so than Sirius had been, coming up to him in a state of panic, not knowing what else to do—there out of fear and desperation—, but Remus had known better. Unaffected by the storm, Remus had every reason to make a much sounder decision than he had. Every reason to turn Sirius away, and yet, he hadn’t.
If anyone was to blame for the night before, it was Remus. Despite Sirius’s unnecessarily tiny underwear and unfairly imposed late night admissions.
Deciding he had lingered in bed much longer than he should have, and quite clear on the fact that he was already playing with fire and needed to put down the goddamn matches, Remus pulled himself out of bed and tried not to wake Sirius in the process. It was too early to deal with his owlish eyes and pretty pout when he didn’t get what he wanted. His adoring ‘Moons’ at the end of seemingly every sentence that was reeling Remus back in far more easily than he would like to admit. He actually succeeded in doing so, shifting Sirius off of him in small increments and replacing where his body had been with a pillow (which he did not do because he was softening for Sirius, but because he needed Sirius to sleep in as much as possible so that Remus had enough time to clear his head).
Dressing himself quickly and quietly, he ignored Sirius patting at the pillow and murmuring in his sleep in favor of heading downstairs to start breakfast. Belatedly, Remus realized that he had said that he would feed Sirius the night before but had instead simply given him tea. Tea which Sirius hadn’t even gotten the chance to finish. Meaning Sirius had come to him for help—seeking shelter from the storm—and Remus had sent him to bed hungry. No wonder Sirius had been so shaky last night.
And what made it worse was that he had done that to a man who already had a tendency to skip meals and surely wouldn’t mention it regardless of how hungry he was. Despite Remus’s grudge against him, his many misgivings, and his fierce bitterness that Sirius had the audacity to come back the way he did, Remus couldn’t be angry enough with Sirius that he would purposefully let him starve. That he could run his fingers over his star— who wasn’t his star anymore,he had to keep reminding himself—‘s ribs and not notice how they stuck out slightly more than they were supposed to.
He cursed Walburga and Orion for that. For training Sirius to skip meals, for punishing him so severely when it came to food and physical appearance that they had practically given Sirius an eating disorder. He cursed Walburga and Orion for a lot of things, but that was first and foremost in his mind at the moment. Mainly because if Remus hated them for it he wouldn’t have to hate himself nearly as much. Although he still hated himself plenty for both not taking proper care of Sirius and taking care of him too much. Falling short by not offering him food, then crossing the line unnecessarily by inviting him into his room. Remus could never get the balance right.
Hoping to get his mind off it’s whole Sirius conundrum, and make up for his shortcomings the evening before—too distracted to be decent—Remus went straight into preparing breakfast. Barely buttered toast, sausage patties, and eggs, because it was what he had, and he wasn’t about to run to the store to get the jam that Sirius liked just because he had appeared out of thin air with absolutely no warning the day before. No, the fucker could take his toast with butter, and say goddamn thank you while he ate it because Remus had scraped off the burnt bits just for him and he shouldn’t have even done that.
Just as Remus was finishing with the eggs—sausage patties still having a way to go—a yawn reached him that he could only assume to be Sirius’s, and inevitably was when he padded into the kitchen with messy hair and his mouth in a surprised ‘o’ shape, still wearing Remus’s sweater and the women’s panties Remus was slowly coming to despise, but with the new addition of a pair of Remus’s socks.
Remus’s favorite pair of socks. That Sirius had not asked to borrow.
“You’re cookin’ for me?” Sirius rubbed at his brightening eyes with a pleased little smile, seemingly so charmed by the simple effort.
“I’m cooking because I need to eat,” Remus answered harshly, hoping to hide the fact that he was indeed cooking specifically for Sirius. “Why are you wearing my socks?”
“Oh,” Sirius looked down in realization. Like it was the first time he had registered that the pair of socks were on his feet—and not his to wear without asking. The light in his eyes died down noticeably and Remus almost felt bad about causing it. Almost. “‘M sorry Moons. I just slipped ‘em on, my feet were cold… I’m sorry I’ll put ‘em back.”
Remus shook his head, annoyed, but not irritated enough to scold him any further.
“Leave them. They’re already on.”
“I can take them off Re- my feet aren’t that cold now anyway-” Sirius offered, moving closer to him like he expected something, although Remus couldn’t begin to fathom what. He flipped the sausages with a huff.
“They’re just socks. Wear them or don’t. Just ask next time,” He answered shortly, trying his best to focus on breakfast and not his ex who wasn’t really his ex because they had never technically broken up, edging closer and closer to him while wearing his clothes before Sirius broke his resolve about as easily as he had broken everything else of Remus’s three years ago by leaving.
“I’m sorry,” he all but whispered, and that did it. Sirius and his useless apologies.
“You’re sorry about a lot of things, Sirius. That doesn’t mean it fucking changes anything,” Remus snapped, dropping the pan he’d begun to pick up on the stove with a clang, and Sirius recoiled the second he did, his voice too loud—much louder than he’d meant it to be—and Sirius didn’t do well with loud noises. Or unexpected scoldings when he had already suffered so many.
“Fuck, Sirius-” Remus lowered his voice significantly, Sirius curled in on himself with his eyes squeezed shut, and Remus absolutely loathed that he’d been the cause of that. Sirius popped his eyes open at the softer sound of Remus’s voice, but otherwise had a horrible look on his face, which Remus knew was due to his still very present trauma response. Walburga and Orion had really done a number on him.
Remus crouched down to Sirius’s level and slowly neared where he was bunched up down on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered as Remus moved his hand slowly to touch his face, using it to tilt his chin up.
“Don’t do that,” Remus spoke gently, made sure to rid himself of whatever anger he was holding onto, because he had done this. And now he had to fix this.
“I know, I shouldn't’ve apologized.” Sirius looked towards the floor but Remus pulled him back up to look at him instead.
“No, I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry Sirius. I didn’t mean to and I promise I won’t do that again,” Remus shushed him. “You’re okay, Pads. You’re safe. I’m just making breakfast for us and it’ll be ready soon, alright?” He looked Sirius intently in the eyes to make sure he was listening.
Sirius hesitated, but nodded, looking between the toast and eggs, which were already ready, and the sausages, which were now tainted with fear.
“C-can we just have what’s already made, Moons? Not- not the sausages?” He looked up at Remus with wide and wary eyes that looked like they were seconds away from gathering tears. Remus nodded and wordlessly helped him up, guiding Sirius to a chair where he gestured for him to sit.
“No problem, Pads. We won’t eat the sausages,” Remus placed both plates of food in front of him about as gently and kindly as he could, not wanting to scare his star any further, although he looked like he had already forgiven him. Sirius was good at moving on from these things fairly quickly. It was sad that he had experienced them enough that he had built up the durability to. His eyes lit up once again when he saw the toast and Sirius grabbed several pieces of it to put on his own plate before cheerily asking,
“Do you have any jam, Moons?” Remus shook his head, previously having thought of the absence of it as some kind of punishment for Sirius, but now he couldn’t find it in himself to be bitter.
“I don’t Pads, sorry.” Sirius frowned a bit and put a few pieces of toast back, but altogether didn’t seem too upset, silky black strands of sleep mussed hair falling in his face that he pushed away with a slight smile.
“It’s okay, Re. Thanks for makin’ it anyway.” And just like that Sirius was cheery again, taking tiny bites out of toast and staring so appreciatively at Remus that he would’ve thought he had hung the moon and stars for him instead of made him some mediocre scrambled eggs and half burnt toast. But Sirius had always looked at Remus like that—like he was something far grander than he was—and it hit Remus with the oddest sense of deja vu, the type that hurt, making Remus numb around certain edges, that screamed out warning signs not to dive any deeper, because if he did it would only hurt more.
But how could Sirius’s fluttering lashes framing his pretty owlish eyes ever possibly hurt anyone?
Ohright, Remus belatedly realized, they had hurt him.
. . .
Hogwarts, Seventh Year:
Sirius Black had always been far too pretty for his own good. Too flirty too, liked dancing and chatting with people, being handsy just when he thought Remus was looking, and wandering into situations he shouldn’t then crawling back to Remus when the consequences from it weren’t what he was expecting. Naive and a bit immature, Sirius was the embodiment of carefree, teasing, and brightness when he was happy, but then far too much trouble when he started to get what he wanted.
What he wanted this time being a reaction out of Remus when he danced too closely to someone with wandering hands, and then he would push it. And keep pushing it until Remus broke. He must’ve thought it was fun, taunting the wolf and dragging him out when Remus was trying so hard to keep him under control. And Sirius didn’t know, not really. He didn’t fully understand the very real dangers that he was putting himself in when he toyed with Remus a little too close to the full moons. He just wanted sweet kisses and rough sex and didn’t know how to ask for it. Didn’t know that he could just ask for it.
But he’d been testing Remus’s patience all week. Dressing in slutty little outfits and letting other men touch him that weren’t Remus, batting his eyelashes innocently as he seemingly forgot who he belonged to. Or at least pretended he had. Grinding on Remus’s lap then getting up, acting like he had forgotten something right before he was about to drop to his knees for him. Playing an increasingly dangerous game.
Remus knew that he was giving Sirius exactly the reaction he’d wanted—that he’d purposely coaxed out with the too short skirts and slutty little crop tops—but he simply couldn’t take it any longer. Sirius’s shiny black hair was tied into two girly braids wrapped in bows at the ends with ribbons, one being flipped over his shoulder as he giggled loudly at something James had said that really couldn’t have been that funny, still in the sweater that Remus had put him in earlier and the same damn miniskirt because he hadn’t actually changed when Remus had told him to. And he’d only continued to push Remus’s buttons since he hadn’t changed, still doing so as he pressed his hand over the only area on James’s chest where there was bare skin, let his hand linger and leaned into the touch, slow to take it away.
So Remus really didn’t think that it was unreasonable that he had reached his limit. That he strode over there to take that hand off of James’s chest and let Sirius know that he wouldn’t be putting up with any more of it. A tight:
“Game’s over Sirius,” that was more of the wolf than him, grasping Sirius’s wrist tightly and pulling him in the direction of the dorms, James tipping his drink to Sirius as he did.
“Game?” Sirius gasped with faux-innocence, as if he hadn’t just gotten exactly the reaction he’d wanted, then batted his eyelashes playfully. “Whatever do you mean Moons?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Remus tried to push the wolf back. Keyword: tried. But he gave up when he had gotten halfway up the stairs and Sirius was obediently dragging behind him and he thought that if his star really wanted to play games then he might as well see what would happen when he did. And maybe Remus did it just to give him what he wanted a bit. After all, he was being so good for him now. But not good enough if he still didn’t know how to keep his goddamn hands to himself, Remus thought as he slammed the dorm room door behind them and groaned into a kiss that had Sirius whining, “Moons, Moons,” at the rare opportunity that he could breathe.
. . .
Waking up the day before the full to Sirius, all marked up and snuggly in his bed was exactly how Remus had envisioned having him. Silky onyx hair spread out over Remus’s bare chest and shoulder, arm wrapping around his waist with a leg slung over his hips to meet it, Remus was reminded that Sirius was still very naked. That he probably still had some remains of the night before lingering inside of him that Remus was in no rush to get rid of. Especially after all the stunts that Sirius had pulled the past week to get him there.
Ideally, Remus had wanted to enjoy it for a moment, the sweet serene bliss spread across Sirius’s features as he let out a soft sigh in his sleep. Take it in for as long as he could before the excruciating, but by now really quite routine pain that he would have to endure that evening, but he had unknowingly shifted on the bed in the midst of his admiration and stirred Sirius.
A lithe finger rose to poke Remus in the cheek, trailing up his chest first as Sirius pried one eye open, and then two. A small and sated yawn that came with a sleepy but immediate smile.
“Mornin’ Moons,” Sirius spoke fondly, lovingly gentle first thing in the morning, and so happy to see him too. It was like Sirius had forgotten that he had seen him all of last night. His boyfriend was so reverent, so sweet and endearing, and it was melting Remus at incredible rates.
“Mornin’ Pads,” Remus smiled right back, smoothed a bit of hair out of Sirius’s face with his thumb, his voice hoarse from disuse.
“I’d say I’m sorry for last night…” Sirius trailed off, voice still soft and fond with the unsaid ‘but’. Like the delicate rays of sun that were slipping through the only mostly closed curtains and kissing them awake, illuminating the many hickies and bruises on Sirius’s smooth satiny skin. Remus just hoped that he hadn’t hurt him too badly… hurt him in any sort of way that Sirius hadn’t asked for. There was only so much of himself that he could control this close to the full.
“No more games today, Sirius.” Remus stroked the side of his star’s cheek. It was an order, but a gentle one. “That is, if you want to be good for me.” He finished, knowing that that would do the trick, a direction with the insinuation of reward, and Sirius was already nodding eagerly to.
“Whatever you want, Moons,” Remus smiled and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, then patted the side of his hip to signal him to get up.
“C’mon then love, we’ve gotta get to class.”
. . .
Present Day:
Remus didn’t call Sirius ‘love’ anymore, didn’t get to watch as his eyes lit up, a smile spreading across his face at the pet name. He didn’t get to hold him in his lap anymore either, gripping his hips to keep him still as Sirius readjusted and wiggled, those a few of the many privileges that had been decisively revoked when Sirius had left him three years ago. And Remus wasn’t sure how far that list extended, how many privileges had been revoked. To the point where Sirius had clumps of crumbs and butter on the corner of his mouth and upper lip and Remus didn’t know if it would be too familiar to point it out. If that was another privilege that had been taken away.
He couldn’t just take his thumb and swipe it across Sirius’s lips to get rid of the crumbs himself, like he would’ve done if he and Sirius were still together—although he still wasn’t sure if Sirius had technically broken up with him or not—and he couldn’t just wipe it away with a napkin either because that was essentially the same thing. So Remus was agonizing over the most inconsequential decision, whether to tell him about the crumbs or not, because he was so locked in old habits that he’d had to snap himself out of it.
It was worrisome just how quickly Sirius had dragged him back into those old habits.
After a while Remus realized that Sirius was staring at him. Likely because Remus had been staring first and just hadn’t realized it.
“What?” His voice was soft, angelic, and at ease like he shouldn’t be after less than a day in Remus’s home that he got into by showing up uninvited and pulling at Remus’s heartstrings enough for him to let him in. Part of Remus scorned Sirius for it, the all too easy comfort he embodied the second he’d stepped through the door, and another part—the part that still loved Sirius—scorned himself for doing so. Wanted Sirius to always feel comfortable, at ease, and happy in his home, because after all, it used to be Sirius’s too.
But that was the point. It used to be. It was until Sirius got up and abandoned it, and Remus in one fell swoop. He had no right to already be acting as if he could call it his own again.
Sirius wiped the crumbs off his face mindlessly with the back of his hand, putting an end to Remus’s agonizing minutes about as easily as he had done by reappearing again after Remus’s even more agonizing three years.
“Nothing.” Remus dismissed a twinge grouchily. Or maybe more than a twinge, Remus couldn’t be too sure.
“Just staring?” Sirius teased, prodding much too familiarly, insinuating that Remus was staring at him just for the sake of it. And when Remus was trying to be nice to him too.
“Don’t push it, Sirius.” He warned icily, whatever guard Remus had somewhat let down going right back up. Remus wondered if it would be too harsh to add ‘remember what you did’. The playful smirk that had worked its way onto Sirius’s face dropped off like a stone and Remus decided that it would be.
“Re-” Sirius gaped and Remus couldn’t find it in himself to have much pity. Simply enough to snap,
“Don’t.” And leave it at that.
And oh how different it was from all those years ago when they could talk for hours on end without ever tiring of each other. Indescribable joy and comfort found in their carefree and seemingly endless conversation. Now all they had was an awkward but necessary silence. Tension, resentment, and silence.