blind dates aren’t really remus’ thing. he hates them, actually. there’s something sort of awkward about meeting a complete stranger with zero previous interaction. he’s been on a handful and they’d all ended miserably — he’d either walk away with a friend for life or leave a complete stranger never to be spoken to again. so far, not a single blind date has gone well enough for even a one night stand.
“these two are different,” lily had promised days before. she’d recently taken it into her hands to fix remus’ abysmal dating life and, by extension, remus’ best friend’s as well. which is how he finds himself now standing outside a karaoke bar, james potter at his side and a ball of nerves turning in his stomach. lily promised this one would be different, and for his own sake he truly hopes so, because he’s one poor date away from submitting to a life of celibacy and more cats than his bookstore salary can logically support.
“what did she say their names were again?” james asks, bouncing up and down on his heels. remus envies the bright grin on his face and the clear excitement showing in his hopping.
“sirius and regulus,” remus responds dryly. he’s nervous. more than, actually. the last blind date went up in flames — some poor girl named bianca who was so horrified by his devotion to the voice that she’d faked an emergency to leave. to be fair, he’d streamed the latest episode on his phone during dinner. though, in his defense, she was more focused on boasting about her career than the fact that he’d already watched a full episode of stranger things before he’d begun watching the voice. it’s truly her fault for being boring. or maybe it’s his for being so blatantly disinterested. either way, it’s someone’s fault, and the date went terribly.
“interesting names,” james comments. remus sighs around his cigarette, shaking the jitters from his hands as he snubs it out against the brick wall beside the entrance. he doesn’t smoke often, but it’s much needed, because his anxiety medication had run out this morning and the pharmacy was being sketchy about refilling it.
“no more interesting than mine,” he quips. james snorts at this, making a teasing comment about his name as the two of them walk inside. according to lily, the two men they’re meant to be meeting aren’t scheduled to be here for another ten minutes, but remus’ anxiety refuses to allow them to get there before him. if they’re ugly or overly sketchy, he can at least bolt before his date notices that he’s actually the person meant to be met. he’s had to do it a few times. they aren’t his proudest moments, but he’s an overthinker at heart, and paranoia regarding strangers runs strong. at the first feeling of danger, he bolts.
“do you have any clue what these guys even look like?” remus asks, fidgeting with the glass of water he’d ordered. there are two left untouched on the other side of the table, already creating a ring of condensation atop a pair of white napkins. james nurses his much like he’d typically nurse a glass of wine, which remus knows would be much preferred for a date. except james isn’t allowed to have wine on a first date because he tends to be overly affectionate and profess his undying love within the first ten minutes. it’s both endearing and off putting. he’d announced remus to be his best friend within an hour of meeting him, and it had stuck. eleven years later, and it rings true to this day.
“lily said something about dark hair. they’re brothers, i think. maybe cousins. i can’t really remember. i was pretty drunk when she called me,” james admits sheepishly. remus rolls his eyes, giving a playful shove of his friend’s shoulder.
“you need to lay off the wine,” he quips. james huffs some complaint about wine being a nectar of the gods he can’t deny when the door to their rented room opens. in walks a pair of men so eerily similar in appearance that it’s clear they’re brothers. possibly twins, except one is slightly shorter. they’re both equally gorgeous — slanted silver eyes, silky dark curls, impeccably sharp cheekbones, golden skin reminiscent of some eastern asian country. they share aristocratic noses and perfect posture, practically screaming old money. and if their features scream it, their clothes advertise it better than time square ever could. only one piece of jewelry on either of them looks expensive enough to cover remus’ rent for half a year if he so decides to steal and pawn.
“who the fuck chose karaoke?” asks the taller one, a smirk toying on his glossy lips. his hair is longer than the other brother’s, brushing his shoulders in long ringlets. there are a few shorter pieces in the front framing sculpted eyebrows and eyes sporting pointed eyeliner.
“i did!” james immediately responds, lighting up with a nervous smile. he’s already shaking hands with both brothers, offering introductions, by the time remus manages to push himself to his feet. he should’ve brought his cane. his knee is killing him.
“sirius black,” introduces the taller brother. the shorter one has remained silent for the entire introduction, dark eyes sweeping over both remus and james with such intent scrutinization that it’s becoming slightly unsettling. james doesn’t seem to notice, poor oblivious fool, as he’s offering a bright smile and lovestruck eyes. james is a big believer in love at first sight, and judging by the look in his eyes, he’s clearly deluded himself into thinking this is it.
“regulus,” says the younger brother in a flat tone as james reaches him. remus offers his hand to sirius, the one meant to be his date for the night, with a polite smile. sirius merely looks him up and down, smirks, and slips straight past to sit on one of the two sofas in the room. remus is awestruck. this sirius guy is rude as fuck. he crumples his hand into a fist and shoves it into the pocket of his jumper with a huff, flopping down onto the sofa beside james.
“so, remus, what exactly do you do for work?” sirius asks. there’s a coy smile on his glossy lips, a relaxed slump to his shoulders beneath his leather jacket. remus lifts an eyebrow, entirely ignoring that sirius had even asked a question as he sips idly on his glass of water.
“bit rude, moons,” james utters. remus shrugs. if sirius wants to be a prat right off the rip, remus can be one too. and he’s far better at it.
“i fully agree,” regulus quips. his sharp eyes are assessing remus carefully, lip caught between his teeth, looking so much like a predator as he dissects every movement remus makes.
“eye for an eye,” remus comments dryly. confusion is clear on sirius’ face, pretty eyebrows drawn together and top lip curled as his head cocks to the side. remus gives him a questioning look, bordering more towards snark as he taps his foot. this is going awfully so far. he wants to go home.
“oh!” sirius exclaims, a pretty blush on his pretty cheeks. how can someone so insufferable be so damned beautiful? it’s a true shame. “you mean the handshake? i’ve got autism. i thought lily had told you. physical touch is a major no-no for me.”
that’s slightly embarrassing. remus blushes from head to toe as he gawks at the other male, who wears somewhat of a sheepish grin. regulus is cradling his forehead in his palm, clearly sighing.
“i am so fucking sorry. i thought you were just being a prick,” remus guffaws. sirius chortles, waving a hand dismissively.
“i’ve really got to start explaining myself a bit better. this is probably the fourth time this has happened,” sirius chuckles awkwardly. james is chortling, naturally, leaning against remus, because james is never any help and will gladly let remus die of embarrassment any day. james is a bad friend. remus resolves to slash his tires next time he gets the opportunity. effie and monty wouldn’t mind replacing the tires on james’ fancy bmw, especially if james deserved having them slashed. fucking prick.
“hyung, i hate you,” regulus drones. they’re korean, then.
“no, no! this is too good!” james laughs out. remus watches as the corner of regulus’ lips twitch, and he rolls his eyes, and tucks his tongue into his cheek to hide the grin threatening to break through. he wonders idly how long regulus will last against james’ contagious laughter. even the best of the best cave eventually. lily is a living testament to the fact that even the strongest of individuals don’t stand a chance against the potter charm.
“should we get this started?” remus asks. sirius shoots a thankful look across the small table between couches, a grin curling his mouth.
“reggie and i have very odd music taste. i’d highly recommend one of you going first, otherwise we’ll automatically go with a living tombstones song,” sirius explains bashfully. regulus groans into his hand again, the peaks of his cheeks shining pink behind it.
“oh my fucking god. you’ve just given me a wonderful idea,” james gushes. his eyes are shining, which is never a good thing, because that means his adhd is at work and he’s seconds away from performing a horrible rendition of an embarrassing song. then he turns to remus with those shining eyes and it’s game over. remus will do anything he asks, and he’s sure that the next thing asked of him will be a duet. “our song?”
“fine,” remus sighs after only seconds of puppy dog eyes exposure. he grunts as he stands, following james to the front of the small room. james is already starting up the song as remus fetches one of the microphones, warmth pooling in his cheeks. he prays to whatever god is in the sky that the brothers won’t laugh too hard.
the music starts up, and remus and james are performing a very lackluster performance of defying gravity. james plays a very convincing elphaba, though his voice cracks when he sings high notes and he breaks for air midway through the belt at the end. remus is very much not into his character. he hates glinda with a passion, and he’ll do her no justice playing her part.
by the end, regulus is the picture of horror and sirius is giving a standing ovation. remus slumps into his chair, cheeks red, mortified. he hates karaoke with his friends and hates karaoke with strangers even more. sirius is the next off the sofa, grin brighter than the sun as he snatches the microphone straight from james’ palm and hands the other to regulus. regulus stays stationed on the couch, sharing an unimpressed glance with remus. then the song starts, jamie foxx’s performance of the city’s yours from annie, and the unimpressed look completely drops. regulus’ face drops open into something vulnerable as he snaps his gaze to his brother. it’s a curious reaction to a song from a musical, but remus isn’t one to judge, seeing as his tribute to his mom is a song from the greatest showman.
it’s only as sirius drops to his knees before regulus, crooning so sweetly into the microphone, unfiltered admiration in his eyes that remus begins to understand how much this song must mean to them. by the end, with regulus dutifully performing all adlibs and lines sung by annie, james is in tears. poor emotional bloke.
“hyung does that song every time,” regulus sighs to remus. sirius is already picking another song. if he’s honest, remus is excited. sirius has a lovely voice like molten honey and he wants to hear it for the rest of time. “he’s going for a jeremy renner one next.”
“you go for karaoke often?” remus asks. james snaps to attention, entirely focused on the conversation now that he isn’t showering sirius in compliments.
“every other week. we’re supposed to go tomorrow night, but i’m hoping tonight will satisfy him for the next two weeks,” regulus explains. remus hums. that explains the dramatic entrance regarding karaoke. remus is starting to think that perhaps james and sirius would make a better couple than sirius and himself. they seem to get along far better, and regulus and remus are relatively friendly with one another. he may not walk away with a potential love interest tonight, but that’s okay. he’s still got the future with the cats to look forward to.
“he’s pretty good at this,” james comments. just as regulus predicted, an edgy guitar-driven song starts up. the screen displaying the lyrics notes the artist of the song and, true to his word, it’s a jeremy renner song. main attraction, to be more exact.
remus might be in love. sirius’ singing voice is beautifully versatile. where he’d taken on a softer, sweeter tone with the previous performance, he now embodies everything an edgy punk artist should. it’s gravely, raspy, low in pitch, and his body moves so fluidly that remus would be sporting a hard-on if he had the right parts. he might be growing them, though, just to give this man the reaction he so greatly deserves.
“how’d i do?” sirius chirps breathlessly once the song finishes. his face is beautifully flushed, and his chest is heaving, and he’s rubbing his hands together nervously, and yeah, remus is probably falling in love.
“perfect,” he finds himself blurting before he can stop it. his cheeks light up as sirius’ smile does, and he tries not to melt as the man giggles adorably.
“reggie, your turn. you’ve gotta do your song,” sirius goads, tugging his brother up from the couch.
“do i have to?” regulus whines. sirius huffs, stamping a foot into the floor as his brother refuses to move. it’s clear just from this one interaction who the younger of the two is.
“yes, regulus. be nice to my ‘tism and put on your fucking performance.”
and perform regulus does. he sings harry styles’ fine line with the eloquence and stage presence of a professional performer. and if remus was growing new anatomy to lust after sirius, james is growing a second heart just to serve it to regulus on a silver platter.
“i think i might be in love,” james says out loud because he’s an idiot and his brain cells disappear when pretty boys are involved. remus groans into his hand. way to fucking go, james. the man practically runs to the mic next, while regulus is busy stuttering through a starstruck expression of gratitude. remus wants to groan as a hollywood undead song starts over the speakers. james gives a good performance of it, channeling his inner cretin as he bounces around and bobs his head to the lyrics.
midway through, sirius leans over the table with his hands around his mouth, a shit-eating grin on his face as he stage whispers, “he reminds me a lot of regulus. little reggie loves his bunny hops on the ice.”
“ice skating?” remus whispers back, eyebrows to his hairline. sirius nods enthusiastically, practically vibrating in his seat.
“yeah! reggie is a figure skater, and i’m a dancer. well, used to be. i’m a tattoo artist now,” sirius explains with a broad smile. he looks lovely, smiling like that.
“do you have any?”
“i do!” sirius exclaims. he immediately sets to tearing off his leather jacket, revealing two bare arms full of various patchwork tattoos. there are a few obviously dedicated to regulus, including a very poorly drawn stick figure with his name above and an arrow pointing to it on his left bicep. it’s quite adorable, in all honesty. “i have nineteen as of right now, but i’ve an appointment with a coworker next week for another.”
“i’ve only one,” remus mumbles, admiring the copious ink gathered on sirius’ golden skin.
“can i see it?” sirius asks eagerly. remus automatically flushes, vigorously shaking his head.
“it’s on my arsecheek. i am not showing you my arse.”
sirius seems to mull this over for a moment, then his lips creep into a smirk, and he says, “i’m sure i’ll get to see it someday very soon.”
remus nearly chokes on his own saliva, cheeks pink and eyes widened. it’s an awfully presumptuous comment, and yet remus doesn’t doubt it for a second. sirius has some sort of natural pull, whether it be his childish excitement or his passion for art in all forms. perhaps it’s the blatant adoration he shows his brother. either way, it’s magnetic, and yet it’s so easy to just chat with him. there’s so much to learn, and with each small detail, remus is drawn in a little more. he’s captivating, beautiful, talented beyond belief. he’s remus’ type to a fault. lily did a very good job picking this one. very, very good.
“you’re probably right,” remus stutters out. “i’m rather weak for pretty men with tattoos.”
“wanna know a secret?” sirius asks in a whisper. remus nods vigorously. his heart is pounding out of his chest as he completely leans over the table. sirius’ lips brush his ear.
“i’ve got a bellybutton piercing.”
remus actually does choke on his saliva this time. in all honesty, if it weren’t for the whole genitals dilemma, he’d take sirius home tonight. and the next night. and the one after that. and probably all the other nights for the rest of forever. he’s simply addicting to talk to.
“is that so?” remus squeaks, sitting abruptly back in his seat. oh, he wants this man, and he wants him bad.
james chooses then to wrap up his dazzling performance, which entirely ends the conversation, but not before sirius shoots him a wink. the group does a few shots — bar james, of course, because the sociopath refuses to drink anything that isn’t expensive wine costing more than remus’ entire existence — and then sirius jumps up for a performance of an insane clown posse song. the night carries on, with more alcohol consumption, and more of james and sirius singing shitty music. remus, at some point, drunkenly puts on a very emotional show of memory from the cats musical. james is a blubbering, drunken mess by the end of it.
the evening wraps up after a few hours. remus exits the building with a sore throat and a slur to his words, james and the brothers in tow. he lights a cigarette the second he steps out of the doors. sirius follows suit, though his cigarette smells musky. it’s after a few moments that remus realizes it’s actually a spliff. sirius and regulus smoke it together, chatting with james, who hasn’t stopped trying to pet the top of regulus’ head, as they wait for a pair of ubers to show.
“it was lovely meeting you tonight, remus,” sirius says, looking up through his lashes. his eyes are bloodshot and his eyeliner is smudged, but he’s still breathtaking. remus is struggling to breathe. he blames it entirely on the cigarette. it has absolutely nothing to do with the alluring man towering over him. absolutely nothing to do with sirius black.
“it was lovely meeting you too. i had a very nice time,” he responds awkwardly. sirius chews on his bottom lip for a moment before giving a coy smile.
“could i give you my number? i’d love it if you joined me for dinner sometime next week.”
remus has never been so quick to nod in his life. he lets sirius program his number into his mobile, only slightly embarrassed by the stark lack of contacts. by the time he gets it back, his and james’ uber arrives.
“i got a second date,” remus states the moment the door closes. james visibly deflates, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. he presumably didn’t get a second date. “sorry, mate.”
“no worries. he was sort of standoffish, wasn’t he? i probably came on too strong,” james sighs. then freezes, drawing a hand from his pocket. within it is a singular slip of paper, and upon reading it, james lights up. “he invited me to watch a performance. he invited me! is this a second date, rem?”
“i think it might be,” remus responds, a bit too chipper for his street cred. the duo high fives, matching smiles on their faces.
second date with the black brothers, bagged.