Chapter 2
“Here you go, Sirius.” Remus gently passed Sirius the steaming mug of tea, wrapping her fingers around it and holding her hands against it for a second, letting the warmth seep through from both sides before letting go and stepping back. She was sitting on his sofa, where she’d been for the last twenty minutes, and she’d only just stopped crying long enough for him to leave her there and make the tea. She sipped it gratefully, eyes dull and downcast.
She was in lacy white tights and a black velvet skirt that fell to mid-thigh, with a thick cream knitted jumper. Her legs were curled underneath her on the sofa, and her hair hung around her face, hiding it from her. Remus wanted to reach over to her, tug her against him, hold her tight and never let her go. He wanted to wipe that devastating look off her face with gentle affection and gentler touches, he wanted to be her safe space, her lighthouse in the storm of whatever it was she was feeling, but he couldn’t.
He thought back to the last time he had seen Sirius. That can’t happen again, Remus. I’m sorry. He thought of the sadness in her eyes then- it was nothing compared to how she looked now, but he had to respect her boundaries; he wanted what she wanted, and she didn’t want him, not like that, so he sat on the other side of the sofa, and waited.
And waited,
And waited.
The doorbell rang, and Sirius physically flinched. “I think it’s him.” she whispered. For a split second, memories from their teenage years resurfaced and Remus thought of Orion’s sagging, sallow face, his dead eyes, his yellowed teeth, but Orion was dead, so who- Callum.
The doorbell rang again. Longer, more insistent this time. Remus sighed and stood. “Stay there, okay?” he said, but she got up and followed him anyway, crouching at the top of the stairs so she could see the front door, but anyone there couldn’t see her. Remus opened the door and it was indeed Callum who stood there.
“Hi, Remus, You’ve not seen Sirius anywhere have you?” Callum looked just as genial as always, flashing that empty, creepy smile that probably made dentists orgasm on the spot, but that never reached his eyes.
“Hi, Callum,” Remus says, holding the door half-open, and obscuring his entryway behind his body. “I’m afraid I’ve not seen her all week, how concerning. Get her to drop me a text when you find her so I know she’s alright.” Callum stares at him, grinding his teeth hard enough that Remus can see his jaw work. He watches as Callum stares over Remus’ shoulder, trying to see into the darkened hallway behind him. Remus straightens up a bit. Callum is broad, stronger than Remus by far, but Remus is tall, and has long known not to underestimate how intimidating it can make him, especially paired with the scars.
“Look, can you tell her that I’m worried about her, and to just call me, if you see her before I do?” Callum asks, sighing. Remus nods and starts to swing the door closed, a smarmy smile pasted across his mouth. Callum opened his mouth as if to speak again, stepping forward as if to block Remus from closing the door, but Remus just raised an eyebrow and he stepped back again.
“So nice to see you again, Callum. I hope you find her!” Remus simpered before slamming the door. He immediately legged it up the stairs, taking them two at a time to find Sirius curled up on his sofa again, head in her knees, crying. Whole body, ragged wracking sobs that had her shaking. Remus’ chest constricted with empathy as he crouched carefully on the floor.
“I feel like I’m going fucking insane.” Sirius panted out, between heaving, hyperventilating breaths. “He makes me feel so fucking crazy.” Remus didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and letting her cry it out. “He used to be so normal.” Sirius whispered when she had calmed down a bit, straightening up and staring at Remus with lost, red-rimmed eyes.
“I promise you, he used to be so good. I don’t know what changed, or why it changed, or when it changed, but it changed.” She took several deep breaths, wiping roughly at her eyes, spreading black makeup across her face. “I knew- I mean, I’d noticed some of it. Little things that made me feel weird, but I could kind of explain them away. And then you came back, and everything just got worse.” She was talking at Remus, but it felt like she was talking to herself, finally voicing the feelings that had clearly been swirling around her head for months.
“Going out with you caused arguments, so I stopped, even though I didn’t want to, because he was so mean, but then talking about you caused arguments, and going out with James caused arguments because it meant you’d be there, and then he got mad at me if I didn’t text him when I was at work, or when I was out, because he thought you might be there. Then he got mad if I was on my phone around him because he thought I was messaging you. I cannot cope, anymore, Remus.”
Remus was reeling from what she was saying. He’d known Callum had an issue with him, had known Callum wasn’t a good partner, but he hadn’t realised the extent it had reached. “He makes me feel like I’m losing my mind. He acts so fucking normal, talks about you like he likes you, tells me I’m being stupid when I say I don’t understand why he’s so worried about you, tells me it’s not controlling to drop in on me at work, or check my messages. He got really angry when I wouldn’t tell him my phone password, but I don’t have to, do I? Or do you think I should?” Sirius looked at Remus again, eyes focussing back in on his face. She looked so hopeless, and Remus’ soul ached for her.
“I’m not sure you’ll like what I have to say.”
“I should tell him my phone password?” Sirius whispered from behind her hands, which had come up to cover her face.
“What? No, no no no! Break up with him!” Remus nearly shouted in his haste to convey what he meant to say. “Fuck, Sirius do you know how bad that is? That’s not how relationships are supposed to work at all!”
“Well I wouldn’t fucking know, would I? I’ve not had one before.” Sirius yelled, before deflating. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to shout at you, I’m sorry.”
“I get it, it’s okay.”
“I just feel awkward because he’s right. We kissed, and I feel awful and I regret it so much, and I just feel like I’ve proved every mean thing he’s ever said about me right.”
I feel awful and I regret it so much.
I feel awful.
I regret it so much.
“Remus?” Remus blinked, trying to stop the words haunting the space between his ears. He wasn’t doing a very good job.
I feel awful and I regret it so much.
“That doesn’t excuse him from the rest of it- the lack of trust, the cruelty. It’s controlling, and toxic and unhealthy. Before- what happened,” he can’t bring himself to talk about it properly, can’t face it head on. “He had no reason not to trust you, and even if he did, that’s not the way you deal with insecurity in a relationship.” Remus says diplomatically. Sirius nods.
“Your feelings are valid, Sirius, and I don’t think this relationship is one that’s good for you. Not being allowed to see or talk about your friends, not being trusted at work, that’s really bad.” Remus hesitates to use the word abusive, doesn’t want to overwhelm her, but he’s fairly sure that’s what it is.
“Look, maybe right now isn’t the best time to think about this. We can talk about it more when you have a clearer head, or if you would feel better with him you could talk to James about it, I know he has some… opinions on the way Callum comports himself around you.” Sirius nods, fiddles with the holes in the lace of her tights, stays silent. “Stay here as long as you need. Stay the night, if you want to. Maybe text Callum so he knows you're okay, and doesn’t come and try to knock down my door again though, yeah?” She nods again, gnawing at her lip and Remus stands, his knees barking in pain at having been in a squat position for so long.
“I’m going to go back to my office. Stay here as long as you need. Text Callum, call James, invite him here if you want to. Come and find me if you need me, yeah?” Sirius looks up at him and nods again, still so quiet, and Remus retreats into his office, locking the door behind him and sinking into his chair as he breaks.
I feel awful and I regret it so much
His tears taste salty and bitter.
**
Remus doesn’t see Sirius for another week, but he finds out from James one evening when it’s just the two of them at the pub that she’s moved in with him for a few days whilst she sorts herself out. Remus hopes it means they’ll be seeing the back of Callum for good but he knows how insidious relationships like that are, how they worm into people’s heads and make it hard for them to walk away.
He still wants her with every cell of his being, despite I feel awful and I regret it so much. The sentence haunts his dreams, his waking and his sleeping. His poetry has taken a steep turn for the melancholy. Maudlin words seep from his brain onto the page and he knows his editor is becoming concerned. He had stupidly hoped that Sirius’ confession in the wine bar had been the start of something new, but instead it seems to be only that- a confession, said in drunk confidence in low candlelight and never to be brought up again.
The knock on his door comes on a sunday night. It’s late, but he’d been working on the first draft of his new manuscript, holed up in his office, hunched over his desk. He stretches his back, feeling it crack satisfyingly as he makes his way down the stairs. “Sirius.” It's raining, and she’s getting soaked as she stands on his doorstep. She’s in jeans again, and a crew neck sweater that he recognises as James’. He steps aside to let her in and closes her eyes as she passes him, trying not to shudder as that wonderful honey and clove scent surrounds him. He hates the way it makes his heart rate speed up, even now.
“I need to talk to you, where can I talk to you?” Sirius asks as she toes off her boots in his entry way, twisting her wet hair up into a bun. The sleeves of the jumper are too long and fall over her hands, and the hem falls to her thigh and she’s the most beautiful thing Remus has ever seen, standing there in the warmth of his home.
“The kitchen is okay.” he’s being standoffish and he knows it and he doesn’t know why but he can’t help it. Seeing her again after such a hard week, wanting her so badly even though she’s made it clear in no uncertain terms that she doesn’t want him. He indulges in the bad mood, lets the sour feeling wash over him as he walks into the kitchen and sets about making them both a cup of tea.
“I broke up with Callum.” she says, sitting at his dining table.
“How do you feel?” he asks carefully, sitting opposite her and passing her a mug.
“Free. strange. Hopeful.” she’s smiling over the mug at him and his bad mood lifts immediately because how can he ever feel bad when Sirius Black is in his kitchen looking at him like that?
“I’m so glad, Sirius.” he says, smiling at her and her smile widens and he wishes this was his real life- cups of tea with her at the kitchen table every sunday evening, the kind of togetherness most people only dream of.
“I’m here to apologise.” she says, and his smile drops.
“What for? I’m not upset with you.”
“Actually, can we do this in the living room, please?” she says, and he can’t say no to her, can never say no to her.
“That’s better.” she says when they're sitting on the sofa, twisted to face each other. Her socks are a thick chunky knit and she wriggles her toes in them and she’s so perfect he aches with it. She’s draped her legs over his and there’s a look in her eye that is igniting all the fires of hope and want and love in his gut.
“I’m here to apologise for what happened at the wine bar. It was a confession made out of desperation and frustration and I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. That was never supposed to be how our first kiss was.”
“What?” Remus asks ineloquently, not sure if he heard her correctly or if he was just hearing what he wanted to hear. “What does that mean?”
“It means everything I said to you that night was true but I was supposed to either never tell you or tell you when I could act on it properly, and I did neither. I’d known for a while- since before you came back, really- that things with Callum weren’t good, but he was the first person who’s ever been willing to put up with me and I was taking what I thought was the best I might ever get. And then you came back and everything got so much worse because I wanted you just as much as I did when I was sixteen and every time I tried to rationalise breaking up with him he would say something that reminded me that I was stupid for ever thinking anyone like you could ever want me back, or he would do something so shockingly sweet and loving I would look like such an arsehole breaking up with him after it and I got stuck, week after week. Wanting you and feeling trapped with him.”
Remus didn’t know what to do with himself. Half of him wanted to jump for joy, scream it from the rooftops. The other half was still convinced he was in some sort of fever dream, that it wasn’t really happening to him.
“And then last week happened. I wasn’t lying, you know. I keep your book on my bedside table, I read it before bed every night. Except you wrote under a sort-of pen name, didn’t you? R. John. subtle, for those who don’t know you.” Sirius shifted closer. Remus felt like he’d died and gone to heaven.
“Last week, Callum looked you up, and realised that my most prized possession, the book I talked about at every opportunity, the book I took with me everywhere, the book I literally slept next to, was written by my childhood best friend who had suddenly appeared back in my life and monopolised so much of my attention and who he was convinced was plotting to steal me away from him.” Sirius huffed, smiling her irreverent grin at him and Remus reached out, grabbing one of her hands in his. Her nails were silver and they glinted in the lights.
“Well, he didn’t like that, let me tell you. Called me all manner of names. Told me no one would want me, really put me through the emotional ringer. And he was right about you, of course, because what did I do when I was so upset I could barely stand? I run straight here.” Sirius smiles at him again, this one genuine and full of affection and Remus can’t help himself. He places a palm against her cheek and guides her in for a kiss, soft and chaste and slow and lovely.
“Stop, wait, no,” Sirius pulls back after a while, laughing and punctuating each word with a kiss to his cheeks, his forehead. “That wasn’t supposed to be it either! I have more of my speech prepared.”
“By all means, love, carry on.” Remus says, and the pet name slips out without meaning to and Sirius blushes so prettily at it and he loves her. “I run here and then I fuck up again by telling you I regret our kiss and god, Remus, watching your face after that, it was like a knife to the fucking stomach.”
“It felt like that to hear you say it, to be honest.” Remus huffs and Sirius is back kissing all over his face like she can kiss it better. It works.
“I meant that I regretted it because like I said before, I wanted to do it properly, when we were both single and there were no complications. I was going to take you out for dinner, I had a whole thing planned.” Remus felt like ice cream in the sun, dripping down the sides of his sofa. A date? Sirius wanted to take him on a date? “But then you were there in the bar and you are so beautiful and you looked so perfect and I just couldn’t help myself, I had to tell you, but then I thought of Callum and all the awful things he said about me and I realised they were right and I panicked and I’m so, so sorry, Remus, but I’m here now and I’m single and I want you, if you’ll have me. In whatever way you’ll have me.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” Remus is laughing and drawing Sirius back in and then he is kissing her and she is kissing back and she tastes like his apple and cinnamon tea and her lips are soft and warm and her arms are holding onto him and everything is perfect.
**
That same night, after kisses on the sofa turn into talking on the sofa turns into yawning on the sofa, Remus invites Sirius to stay and she’s accepted before he can even finish asking properly. “Turn around!” Sirius insisted, laughing and throwing a pillow at Remus. “Alright, alright I’m going for a piss, alright?” Remus held his hands up, laughing loudly as he left the room, dramatically shutting the door behind him. When he re-entered, Sirius was sat up against the headboard, looking impossibly soft in Remus’ t-shirt and pyjama trousers, which were cinched tight at the waist and rolled up an adorable amount at the ankle. She looked up at him and smiled softly, but it was strained. Her forehead was creased, her eyes duller.
“Alright?” Remus asked as he shucked off his t-shirt and exchanged it, pulling on an xxxl beer t-shirt he had won one Oktoberfest with his chugging skills. Sirius snorted softly at it as Remus clambered into bed, curling up on his side, facing the wooden door. Sirius immediately shifted and tucked up behind him. He waited.
“I’m sorry I made you leave.” Sirius' voice was quiet. Scared, almost. There it was.
“You’re entitled to your privacy, you know. Even if we-” get married, spend the rest of our lives together, move in, never spend another night apart from now on- “even if this goes the way I’m really hoping it does,” he settles on, “you’re always entitled to your privacy. You don’t forfeit your right to that when you enter into a relationship with someone.”
Is that what this is? They still hadn’t really talked about it, and Remus didn’t want to push. He’d take Sirius in whatever form he could get her, if he was honest with himself. Just having her back in his life again was enough.
“I’m wearing boxers.” Sirius huffed from behind him.
“Did you want a clean pair?” Remus asked, confused. He reached down to clasp Sirius’ hand where it was resting against his stomach. Sirius huffed a weak laugh.
“You’re funny, you know.”
“I wasn’t joking? I’m not sure I fully understand what’s going on here.”
“I’m wearing boxers.” Sirius said again, like that made it any clearer. Remus frowned. “I like them because they’re comfy, sometimes, when I’m tired or stressed, you know? Callum didn’t like it. Thought it meant I wasn’t trying hard enough.”
“Trying hard enough at what?” Remus asked, teeth clenched as he very much knew the answer.
“Being a woman.” Sirius mumbled from behind him. Remus tangled their legs together. He ached to turn around, to hold Sirius tight to him, but he knew that the only way Sirius would talk to him was if she couldn’t see him. She had always been this way.
“You don’t have to try at being a woman.” Remus began slowly, choosing his words. “You are a woman. How you dress makes absolutely no difference. If I wore a ballgown tomorrow, I’d still be a man. If you wore boxers every day for the rest of your life, you’d still be a woman.” Sirius pressed herself closer to Remus, and he tried not to flinch at the tickling sensation of her nose against the sensitive skin of his neck. She nodded into his skin, and he felt her whole body melt behind him, letting go of the tension she seemed to carry with her everywhere.
**
After long and difficult conversations punctuated by kissing and holding and touching, they decide to take it slow. The more time Sirius spends away from Callum the more she realises how deeply affected she is by the way he treated her, and she tells Remus with a heart full of regret that she can’t date him yet because she needs to heal first, to build her confidence back up so hangovers from him can’t get in the way of them being together. She can’t risk it, she says, he’s too precious. So they carry on as they were before; seeing James and Lily, babysitting Harry, getting lunch or coffee or pints or going on long winding Sunday walks through the countryside.
December is beautiful and for all that Remus wants more, he also finds himself perfectly happy with what he has. There are kisses on the cheeks and held hands and sometimes, when it’s late and wine has been drunk and the Christmas lights twinkle like stars in their eyes there are proper kisses- slow and sensual and full of promise for what they both know is coming. Remus returns to Wales for Christmas and Sirius spends it with Lily, James and Harry. They exchange gifts when they reunite on the twenty-eighth of december, cuddled up on Remus’ sofa. Sirius stays over but they stay fully clothed and maintain a healthy distance in Remus’ huge bed, and it feels more like their sleepovers did at eleven years old, which holds its own kind of magic as Remus watches Sirius’ face as she sleeps.
New years passes in a wine-drunk haze in Lily and James’ living room alongside many, many other people and they all bring in the new year together before Sirius drags Remus into a dark corner in a separate room and snogs him silly, gripping his hips and licking into his mouth and promising that this year is going to be their year. Remus kisses her right back, tasting champagne on her tongue.
**
The big day comes on a wet late-february morning. The doorbell rings, rousing Remus from his warm bed to collect an absurdly large bouquet of white camelias with a note attached demanding he be free that evening at seven sharp.
Seven sharp finds him jogging down the stairs at the sound of knocking at the door, dressed in brown woollen trousers and a white linen shirt and a waistcoat. Sirius is standing outside, looking like golden-age Hollywood royalty in a floor length black gown, her hair cascading down her shoulders in ringlet-curls and her eyes alight. Seven thirty finds them sat at a private table in the back of a michelin star restaurant infamous for its waiting lists, eating food better than Remus could ever have dreamed, drinking wine that likely cost as much as the rent on his old flat in Edinburgh, sat opposite the woman he is one-hundred-and-ten-per-cent certain is the love of his whole entire life. They walk back to Remus’ house, hand in hand, swaying in the cold streets. Their breath dances in the air before them; spectral representations of Remus’ mood, joyous and ephemeral.
Sirius is a shining star next to him, silver and sparkly and brighter than the sun. her teeth gleam behind ruby-red lips and Remus fucking Loves her. It's a big love- warm, and safe, like returning to his childhood bedroom, like nineties nostalgia, like apple crumble and vanilla custard and hot coffee and comfy scarves. It's all the little things in life that make him happy wrapped up in one person, who smiles at him like he hung the moon.
“Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.” Sirius whispers in the cold air of his entry way, pressing up against his body as the front door slams shut behind them. Remus falls into her, wrapping one arm securely around her slender waist, the other cupping her cheek, feeling the blood of her neck pound against his wrist. He can feel the tackiness of her lipstick against his lips and the sweetness of her tongue, the way she smiles against his mouth. They stumble up the stairs and fall onto the sofa, shedding coats and scarves and gloves on the way, littering his floors. Sirius is lying underneath him and she is glowing like she’s lit up from the inside, like she’s swallowed a star, like she was crafted directly by the hands of the god Remus has never believed in.
They kiss until they start to fall asleep, eyelids dropping, lazily trading spit. “Bed?” Remus whispers, gently nudging Sirius back into wakefullness when her eyes close and don’t open for a good few minutes. “Mmm” she mumbles, nodding and he hauls her up, tugging her up the next flight of stairs to his bedroom. Too tired for propriety, he gives her the same clothes she slept in last time but doesn’t bother with any himself, stripping down to his boxers and stumbling into the bed, relaxing into the buttery embrace of his plush mattress, his tall stack of pillows.
He closes his eyes as Sirius dresses. The room is too dark for him to see her properly, but he wants to respect her privacy nonetheless. He wriggles around in the bed, the sheets cold and smooth against his arousal-warmed skin, trying to hold off sleep until the tell-tale dip of the mattress and disturbance of the sheets indicates Sirius’ arrival. She climbs in and tuckes up close to him. He immediately rolls over, wrapping his arms blindly around the closest parts of her body and tugging her in until theres no air between them. Sleep comes swiftly, carrying them both in her loving arms.
**
Hope springs eternal, and Remus had forgotten how beautiful Bristol is in spring. Life is still life; he has deadlines, work is difficult, the lecturers- himself included- are striking more than they are not and he feels crushing guilt for the luxury of tenure, which he is sure he does not deserve. His students are stressed and he feels their pain, and exam season fast approaches on the horizon.
His birthday is a small affair- just dinner at James and Lily’s with Harry in attendance and Sirius at his side at all times. Twenty-nine just feels like the build up to thirty; a non-event in and of itself, and he contents himself with one of James’ orgasmic home-cooked meals and homemade cake, with Harry sat on his lap covered in chocolate icing, with Sirius falling asleep in the uber on the way home and him having to carry her up the stairs. Still unsure of boundaries surrounding her body, he dithers and eventually decides to just lay her in bed as-is, and she wakes up confused to still be clad in her soft cotton dress from the night before.
Two days later, his dad gets diagnosed with dementia, and suddenly what little free time he has- time he had fully intending on devoting to Sirius in it’s entirety- is now divided between her and long train journeys down to Wales. Hope’s brave face isn’t big enough to cover the cracks in her heart and Lyall fades with each passing visit. He spends his days there taking Lyall on long walks through the countryside so Hope can break in peace- shattering and then rebuilding herself before their return. He listens to the same stories of Lyalls childhood and of his own over, and over again. He wonders when one reaches their limit of tears- surely they must be a finite resource, no man can cry this much?
Through it all, James, Lily and Sirius anchor him, holding him down. There are always meals in his fridge, always people there when he needs noise and gone when he needs silence. Sirius all but moves in, spending long lonely weekends in his empty house when he’s in his motherland, dusting and sweeping and cleaning so he always has a nice environment to come home to. He feels weariness in his soul that’s so deep it could put god to sleep, but he soldiers on regardless. Sirius is his beacon in the darkness. In light of his dad’s diagnosis their relationship moves slowly, but it is no less lovely for its pacing.
In fact, Remus ponders as he observes Sirius’ sleeping face smushed against his chest, it might be lovelier. She is still recovering from the number Callum did on her, still learning how to trust herself and not hear his voice in her ear. Sex being off the table allows them to build the trust necessary to secure the future of their relationship, and Remus would wait forever and a day for her.
Four miserable weeks pass like this, with Remus back in Wales every weekend, and so little time in the week for anything more than eating dinner and falling asleep together. When April breaks, casting stronger sunshine and heralding longer days across the country, Hope decides to move Lyall into a facility. His health is deteriorating at an unprecedented rate, and as much as Remus aches for the father he knows he won’t have for much longer, the side of him still able to feel anything over than bone-grinding grief revels in having his weekend back.
**
The girl in front of him is sobbing into the sleeve of her cream jumper, and Remus cringes at the mascara stains left behind. “I just don’t understand what I did wrong!” she says for the fourth time. Remus glances at the clock. His neck is prickling with sweat.
“Maria, this essay is only worth ten percent of your overall grade, please don’t worry this much about it.” Remus sighs tiredly. He knows he isn’t being very comforting but it’s quarter past six on a friday night and his office hours ended forty-five minutes ago and he has a dinner reservation in less than an hour and he still needs to get home and change. “Look, Maria please, as your personal tutor I can only help you so much. You need to book office hours with your seminar tutor. They will have marked this, and they can tell you how to improve.” Maria nods, her lip trembling as she wipes at her eyes again, further staining her jumper.
Remus glances out of the window. The sky is starting to darken and the lights of the other university buildings cast the damp street in watery yellow. He thinks of Sirius and the weekend that stretches out before them. “How's this,” he tries again when she doesn’t make any move to leave. “If you leave the name of your tutor with me, I’ll email them for you, and ask them to contact you about your grade, okay? And I’m really sorry but I have to go now, my day ended nearly an hour ago.” Maria leaps up and apologises profusely, thanking him for the offer as he scoffs internally. It is not his job to babysit his tutees like this and Maria should know this by now.
He flies down the stairs, clutching his satchel and checking his phone, wondering if he can still get away with running home first or if he’ll just have to show up to dinner as-is, still in his work clothes. He’s so busy pulling up his text thread from Sirius he doesn’t realise someone is stood at the bottom of the stairs, and he smashes straight into them.
“Shit, I’m so, so so- Sirius?” Remus begins apologising until he sees who it is. Sirius is stood in front of him, a hand on his shoulder to steady him as she laughs. Her silver blouse matches her signature silver nails and is tucked into severe black high waisted trousers. Her heeled boots bring her eye-level with him, and her hair is plaited back in those braids he loves so much.
“Where were you running off to?”
“To meet you!” Remus groans. “God forsaken stupid uni students who put no effort into their coursework then come to my crying about it like its my fault? I didn’t even mark it! And she wouldn’t leave! I was supposed to go home and shower and change.” Remus drops his head onto her shoulder, letting the stress leak from his body now she’s in front of him again.
“Poor baby.” Sirius crooned, far from sympathetic and still laughing at him. “Come on, lets go to dinner, food will make you feel better.” Remus mumbled and nodded because food always made him feel better and he was just tired and grumpy and he didn’t want his mood to marr the weekend. They walked to the restaurant together, hands swinging between them. Remus felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders for the first time in weeks. He kept catching himself staring at Sirius with a goofy wide grin on his face, just watching her. The restaurant was an old family-run hole-in-the-wall, tucked into a corner of suburban clifton, with flickering candles on the tables and fraying edges on the table clothes.
Their table is in the back corner, right by the window to the kitchen and the smells wafting through have Remus drooling. The night passes beautifully. Sirius hooks her ankles around one of Remus’ the whole time and it gives Remus butterflies like he’s a teenage boy again. They share starters and dessert and sample each other’s mains like they’re an old married couple in a romantic film. Sirius refuses the wine list which Remus finds odd at first but the fresh house-made lemonade is the best thing Remus has ever tasted. The owner, an ancient looking Greek woman, is enamoured with them and comes to their table to introduce each dish, and when they finally leave, armed to the teeth with leftovers and stuffed to the brim, she insists they return as soon as possible, and Remus is quite sure that they will.
***
“Fuck, Remus, come on.” Sirius pants into his mouth, dragging him to his bedroom, shoving him through the door and onto the bed without even turning the lights on, crawling on top of him like something straight from Remus’ fantasies and her mouth tastes like lemon sorbet and he’s hard as fuck in his work trousers and weeks of stress and tension have taken their toll. He’s on a knife edge and Sirius’ tongue starts licking down his neck and Remus worries he might combust.
“Fuck I want you,” Sirius mutters. “Have wanted you for fucking years, wanted you since school.” Remus thinks he’s died and gone to heaven, arching his back into her body, his hands searching for purpose on the back of her smooth blouse. “Remus, fuck, Remus, off, just take it off.” she says, sitting up and ripping it off. Her bra underneath is black and lacy and fucking delicious. Remus realises it's the first time he’s ever seen her in her underwear. Even as his dick twitches at the thought, his face still twitches into a frown.
“Sirius, Sirius wait,” he pants out, propping himself up on his elbows.
“What?” she asks, pulling her lip into her mouth. She frowns, and climbs off him, clutching her top to her chest. He yearns for the warm weight of her back on his body. “Do you not want me?” Her voice is small and brittle. Remus shakes his head hard enough to kill brain cells, reaching for her.
“Sirius, what? Of course I want you. Of course I want you, I’ve wanted you nearly as long as I’ve known you. I just want to make sure you want this too. I don’t want you to feel rushed at all.” Sirius’ body language relaxes and she drops her top, walking back over to him. She dithers for a second before climbing back on top of him, lowering her face close enough for their noses to touch.
“Trust me Moony,” she breathes, and Remus thinks it's the most erotic thing he’s ever experienced. “I want this.” Remus surges up to kiss her, and all his doubts are erased. He flips them both, and Sirius is staring up at him from the bed, panting so hard her whole chest heaves with it and Remus wants. He burns with it.
“What do you like, love?” he asks in between biting kisses to her jawline, before he trails down her neck, hearing her breathing hitch.
“What do you like?” Sirius asks back, face flushed and voice challenging. She reaches for him and Remus takes her wrists and presses them back down onto the bed, looming over her.
“Mm-mm, love. That’s not how this works. Tonight is all about you, what do you like? How do you want me to worship you?” he asks, lowering his body further onto hers, sinking into her warmth.
“I want what you want.” Sirius breathed back, arching up into him, but her voice didn’t sound sure, and the movement felt too deliberate- not a result of arousal of her own, but rather an act to inspire arousal in him. Remus sat up, straddling her hips, frowning down at her.
“Look, if you’re solely into service then fair, but I want to make you feel good by doing what you like. There’ll be time for what I like later, and I highly doubt the two will be very different.” Sirius shrinks a bit under his gaze, and it’s the second time that evening that she seems on unsure footing. He’s sure that if he wasn’t sat on her she’d be up again, moving away from him. He doesn’t like it.
“What if I don’t know what I want?” she asks, voice small and wobbly. Remus’ stomach swoops at the implication.
“What have you liked doing with other people?” he asks, mentally steeling himself to hear about her shagging people that aren’t him.
“I barely remember what sex was like before transitioning, and Callum always just fucked me.” she wasn’t making eye contact with him.
“Did you like that?” Remus asked, easing off her and flopping down onto the bed, taking her by her shoulder and pulling her so they were nose-to-nose. He kissed the tip of her nose, her forehead, her cheek, her lips. He pulled her into him, feeling her relax.
“I don’t know.” she confides against his chest. “It was what he wanted, and it’s what he said women do, so I just did it.”
“Sirius…” Remus sighed, tightening his hold on her. He tamped down on the wave of pure rage directed at Callum- one of many that had been happening as she opened up to him more about what her previous relationship had been like. “Okay, darling. What do you think you like? What’s something you’ve always wanted to try? What’s something you fantasise about?” he asked, running his hand up and down her back, feeling her hand come up and grip on the waistband of his boxers. It was a simple action, but one so endearing he never wanted her to let go.
“I don’t know,” she huffed, and he could feel her embarrassment, could feel her smiling against his pecs. “Head? Maybe?” Remus grinned and slid a thigh between her legs, pressing up gently against her crotch.
“Yeah, baby? You want me to give you head?” he asked, kissing her gently as she whined into it, pressing her hips against his thigh in a jerky motion, like she didn’t quite mean to.
“Remus,” she sighed into his mouth, a hand coming up to grip onto his bicep, silver nails digging in. “Remus, please.”
“Yeah, love? You want that?” Remus asked again, needing to make sure, but Sirius nodded frantically, her hands coming down to undo the complicated clasps on her trousers. They finally come undone, and Remus shimmy’s down the bed, kissing down Sirius’ chest and stomach as he does so, before pulling her trousers down to mid-thigh. He starts to drool at the sight of her rock hard dick weeping and trapped in her black lace underwear.
He licks through the lace, feeling the rough material against his tongue as she groans above him. A hand grips his hair, and he offers her a hand which he takes with her other hand, gripping onto his fingers tightly. He licks and sucks through the lace until Sirius is keening above him, every word out of her mouth either his name or a swear, and he finally takes pity on her and pulls her underwear down. It’s been a while since he last did this, and he loses himself in the familiar sensations.
He’d not been with anyone since his return, which had been months, and the last people he had slept with had all been casual ends to first dates or strangers after parties. He missed the intimacy of sex with someone he cared about so deeply; someone he loved. In the moment, he can’t think of anything he’s ever enjoyed more than giving Sirius pleasure. Her hands tighten in his hair, her noises get higher and higher in pitch, her legs come up over his shoulders, heels digging in and her back arches clean off the bed. She’s so sensitive, so responsive and Remus hates that part of that is because her last relationship was devoid of sexual equality for her.
She comes with a shout down his throat, and he feels her thigh muscles trembling around his ears. He kisses slowly down each thigh, delighting in the soft creamy skin, the tang of sweat, the sound of her pants. He fully strips her of her pants and trousers before he crawls back up her body. Her eyes are still closed, mouth hanging open. She’s perfect. He kisses her forehead and lies on his back, pulling her to him. He can tell she’s already close to sleep. He quickly shuffles his trousers off and climbs back into bed, tugging her to him and arranging her legs so the thigh draped over his body isn’t touching his still-hard dick, which he actively tries to ignore as he focuses on playing with her hair and whispering soothing words to her.
“Moony,” she mumbles, eyes half lidded. “Didn’t do ‘nything for you.”
“Don’t fret, love. Go to sleep. Like I said, we have all the time in the world.”
***
Lyall dies on a sunny July afternoon. Sirius is with him, Hope at his other side. He’s been in Wales for three weeks now, making the most of the long holidays. His mum cleared his dad’s old office for him to write in; the deadline for the first draft of his next manuscript looms. Sirius had been travelling across, trying to spend as many weekends with Remus as she could- baking, doing the laundry, picking up the slack Remus and Hope find themselves unable to.
Lyall dies on a sunny afternoon. Sirius is with him, Hope at his other side. At the funeral, two weeks later, Sirius is with him, Hope on his other side. Lily and James stand behind him, and the rest of Lyall’s small but loving circle extend around him at the graveside. Sirius’ hand is in his and he is holding on for dear life. Despite the fact that he knew this was coming, that he’d been watching his father slowly slip away for weeks, does nothing to soften the blow. It still feels like a surprise.
He’s weepy at the funeral, eyes always full of tears but none of them spilling. He stays a few more days in Wales, trying to convince Hope to return with him, loathe to leave her in the house alone, but she is adamant. He breaks back in Bristol. In bed with Sirius, naked only for the intimacy that skin-on-skin contact alone can bring, he cries into his pillow as she holds him.
“Thank you for being there,” he sniffs when the tears relent.
“Remus, anything, I’d do anything for you. Of course I was there.”
“I love you.” he says, rolling his head into the sacred hollow between jaw and shoulder. The hands tracing patterns on his back still, it even feels like she stops breathing.
Oh.
He had forgotten, for all that he has thought about how much he loves Sirius nearly every day since his return, he has never once said it out loud.
“I love you.” she says, as if her love is independent of his. It is not ‘I love you too’ or ‘I love you back’ but just, ‘I love you’ as if it wouldn’t fade even if his did. Not that it ever would. She kisses the skin of his cheek that he can reach, and holds him tightly, tightly, tightly.