You Could Be My Baby

The next wednesday, like clockwork, Sirius came in, wearing another fancy business outfit. He looked better this week, like some of the life had bled into him. It was the opposite of how Remus felt. It had been a hard week. Gran’s door was haunting all his thoughts. His emotions swung wildly between berating himself for cowardice and the deep-rooted belief that if he opened that door and found it empty, he’d have to believe she was really gone.

And he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t give up on that. As long as that door remained closed, Gran could still be behind it, kitting him another jumper, her arthritic hands gripping her ergonomic knitting needles he had bought her for her birthday one year, her yellowed teeth showing through her beaming smile as her watery blue eyes held his face lovingly in her gaze. As long as that door remained closed, he could kid himself that the past few months had been a sick sort of holiday, and he would return to their cramped, shitty flat in Aberdeen and find her, standing in the kitchen, in her dirty apron, cooking up her signature bolognese, with a viccy sponge in the oven, her wispy hair pulled into a tiny bun at the back of her head.

That Saturday had also been the anniversary of Fenrir, and, well. Remus hadn’t made it out of bed. He hadn’t turned the lights on, he hadn’t checked his phone, other than to call in sick to work. He hadn’t eaten, or moved. Just dozed fitfully in between bouts of crying so forceful he wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbours had heard. His back was sore from digging his nails into it, and the whole day the scars across his torso had ached, like they knew what day it was. Like they knew it was one year since what was maybe the worst- second worst, now- day of Remus’ life, and they just had to remind him of the pain he had felt then, and had been enduring since.

The next morning, he felt like he had been mangled, wrung out like vintage laundry. Dried blood itched his back and his chest was sore to the touch like one big bruise and his sheets were damp and sweaty. He woke up early, before the winter sunrise, and spent the last few hours of darkness chain smoking on his front step, watching as the sky released the pain and darkness of the night and welcomed in the soft, peaceful lilac of the morning. It was cold, and he was shivering in just his boxers, but the street was empty and the tobacco burned his lungs so good the way it always did and between the calm and the quiet and the cold, Remus’ mind felt quiet for the first time since he lost the best thing that ever happened to him. All he thought about were the mechanical movements of placing the filter in the rizla, placing the baccy, rolling and licking and securing and lighting and smoking. His feet and fingers and arse were numb, but he stayed out there until the first lights started flickering on in windows, and Remus was reminded that he wasn’t alone in the world, so he retreated back inside.

He showered in scalding water that left him pink and tingling, scrubbing the previous day off of him with harsh, jerky movements of the scratchy towel, and he washed and changed his sheets, and opened all the windows on the bottom floor. It felt like a breath of fresh air was sweeping through the stale house, and maybe taking some of the pain away with it. Remus cooked himself breakfast for the first time since his Gran left, sitting and eating the fried mushrooms with poached eggs and toast on his back step, his knees pulled into his chest, his plate balanced atop them, looking into his overgrown garden.

He wore his favourite jumper, and his favourite boxers, and his comfiest pair of trousers, and he laced his docs with a confidence he had forgotten. He had told his manager he’d come in a bit earlier to make up for his missed shift the night before, and Remus set out, hoping that maybe, just maybe, life might be getting- easier, if not better. The load on his shoulders felt a few kilos lighter. He had survived the year, which he had not been entirely sure was an inevitability.

“Alright, Luvvie?” an elderly woman smiled as she greeted Remus on the street. Remus managed a wobbly smile and brief nod back before he ran all the way to the pub.

Fuck breakfast, and fuck his jumper, and his boxers, and his trousers. Fuck life getting any better. Fuck all the people out there who had not yet lost grandparents or parents, and didn’t know the pain he felt every second of every day. Remus locked himself in the bathroom, and cried.

*

The week dragged by, and when Wednesday finally rolled around again, Remus found himself glancing towards the door every five minutes, waiting for Sirius to stroll through.

“What’s gotten into you?” Mary asked, smirking as Remus once again found his eyes straying away from his customer and towards the door. “Huh?” Remus barely registered that she was talking to him at all, he was so distracted.

“Waiting for a special someone are we?” Mary whispered as she came up close to him behind the bar on her way to the back room to get more crisps. “I dinnae ken what you mean.” Remus replied gruffly, taking the customer’s payment and busying himself with the till.

“Sure you don’t, just like you’re not staring at the door waiting for a certain black haired beauty to come through.”

“Oh shove off.” Remus scoffed, shoving her lightly in the shoulder. “He’s my neighbour. It's nice to chat to someone my age. I haven’t made many friends here yet.”

“We’re your friends, Rem!” Pete piped up from the other side of the bar, and Remus grinned at him. Pete was too sweet for his own good. “I count you lot as my only friends here.” Remus responded, and jumped a little in surprise when he felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulder, pulling him in. Mary grinned and ruffled his hair.

“You’re our bezzie mate, aren’t you Rem. Anyway, speaking of, now we’re a group of three besties, we should do something outside of work, together, like as friends.” Remus twisted his body to free himself from his grasp, nearly falling over in the process. He steadied himself on the bar. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been out with friends. He’d had friends in Aberdeen, sure, and at Uni when he was an undergrad at Glasgow. He had gone out loads during his degree, but he had met Fenrir not long after, and between his masters and working and looking after Gran and Fenrir- it had been a long time. After Fenrir, going out had consisted of drugs and drink and cruising in an effort to restore his shattered self confidence. It had been years since he had had proper friends, or gone out and just had fun. Fun had become a foreign concept after Fenrir. Life had just been putting one foot in front of the other, and his Friday and Saturday nights turned into baking or knitting or watching films with Gran, and then they had been filled with emptiness. Of binge drinking lager alone in the armchair in the downstairs sitting room, staring at the peeling wallpaper, listening to sad music and wondering if twenty five was too young to waste away.

“What did you have in mind?” Remus asked, as he internally panicked that maybe he had forgotten how to have fun. He didn’t know how to dance. He didn’t know how to drink without becoming morose. He had never been much of a fun drunk- more introspective and quiet, if overly affectionate, but now he wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t just start sobbing on the dancefloor.

“Thekla!” Mary grinned triumphantly. “What a classic!” Pete interjected, opening a bag of crisps for himself under the counter.

“Perfect! Sorry, Sir, what can I get you?” Mary turned to deal with the man at the bar, and the rest of them dispersed, and as Remus replaced the kegs of lager in the basement, his desire to go out with his new friends battled with the guilt of feeling like he had to honour Gran by spending every evening at home and miserable. Neither side won, but that didn’t matter because Sirius was sitting at the bar when he emerged from the dingy stone staircase that led to the basement.

“We left him for you.” Mary whispered to him as she passed him on his way over. Sirius was dressed more casually today- a black t-shirt with Bowie’s face splashed across the front, and baggy black jeans that were ripped and dirty around the hem.

“I was wondering where you were.” Sirius called as Remus made his way over. Much to his distress, it made Remus blush. “I was on keg duty.”

“What does that entail?” Sirius leaned forward and propped his chin on his hand, staring up at Remus in a way that made his stomach flip. “Uh, I have to replace the empty kegs with full ones to keep the taps running. The full ones are heavy as fuck so it always falls to me, I’m the only one strong enough.”

“So all those grandpa jumpers are hiding a muscle man physique then, huh?” Sirius asked, a lascivious smile playing around his lips. This was definitely flirting. Remus floundered. He didn’t know what to do with himself. “Not really, I have it on good authority that I’m rather scrawny.”

Fenrir had made no secret of how unappealing Remus’ tall, skinny, lanky figure was. ‘You’re all skin and bones’ he would say, poking Remus’ flat stomach with sharp nails. ‘There’s nowt left of you. Like having sex with a skeleton.’ Remus took a deep breath. That was in the past. Anyway, he had filled out since then. Gran had needed more help in recent years, ranging from carrying all the shopping to carrying her up and down the stairs of the house their flat had sat in the top of, and between that and moving all on his own, Remus wasn’t the waifish thing Fenrir had had to suffer through shagging. His corduroys strained around his thighs now, and the sleeves of his t-shirts were no longer as loose.

“Scrawny isn’t the word I’d use.” Sirius drawled, pulling Remus out of his head. “What can I get for you, Sirius?” Remus asked pointedly, smiling despite himself when Sirius’ face fell. “Lager? Pale ale? Doom Bar?” Sirius pulled a face at all the options.

“No. I am not a beer man. Cider, please. Anything, surprise me.”

“Okay then.” Not a beer man, Remus mused as he considered the ciders on offer. Made sense, he guessed. The clothes indicated a level of… flamboyancy, maybe, that matched Sirius’ assertion that he wasn’t a beer drinker.

“Here.”

“Remus, it’s purple.”

“Aye, that it is.”

“I asked for cider.”

“Aye, that you did.” Remus bit his lip to hide his smile. Between the accent and the reaction, it was clear Sirius was not a regular pub patron. “Just drink it, Sirius.” Remus commanded, and Sirius did as he was told, ducking his head and sipping.

“You never had strongbow dark fruits?” Remus asked when Sirius came back for air, half the glass gone.

“...no?” Sirius said, condescension bleeding through his tone, as though something he hadn’t heard of could never be worth his time. “Staple of a Scottish teenagehood. Its fruit cider, Sirius. Blackcurrant, to be exact.”

“Oh! Like ribena!” Sirius said, grinning devilishly, revealing gleaming, straight teeth that betrayed an agonising orthodontic history. Remus couldn’t hold back his laugh. He was continually surprised with how Sirius could make him laugh. “Aye, like a boozer’s ribena, Sirius.”

“Remus! Be a dear and bring in the bottle delivery?” Dorcas’ aunt appeared on the stairs that led upstairs to her office on the first floor, and flat on the second. “Will do!” Remus called up, casting a glance at the window to see the delivery van pull up outside. “If you’ll excuse me, Sirius.” Remus rolled up the sleeves of his jumper and went out to start bringing in the large crates of the individually bottled drinks, like rattler and corona. Mary and Pete came to help, unloading all the bottles into the fridge or cupboard next to it. Pete tried to carry one of the crates, but his arms were straining and he nearly dropped it, and if Remus hadn’t dove in and rescued it, they would have been ankle deep in cyder. Red in the face, Peter huffed a thank you and scurried off to Mary’s side.

“Mary! That speaker you requested came in this morning- it totally slipped my mind. Here, sync up your phones, play whatever. No metal, okay?” Dorcas’ aunt, Beverly, said, handing Mary a large box, before disappearing back upstairs again.

“Oh, sick! I asked for this ages ago!” Mary exclaimed, ripping into the box with her bare hands, revealing a large, black cylindrical speaker nestled inside. “Remus, you can do the honours. You have the air of someone with a good music taste.” Mary passed him the speaker as Peter nodded his agreement, and handed him the instruction booklet. After a bit of fiddling and arguing over where on the bar it should be, the three of them eventually got it set up, and Remus dug his ancient phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his playlists. He ummed and ahhed over it for a while, before Blossoms started pouring out of the speaker and filling the pub.

(Hello, hello. Who put love in my head? I know, I know, it’s made of lead.)

In the excitement, Remus had almost forgotten about Sirius, who usually only stayed for the time it took him to drain a pint, but when Remus turned around the other man was still there, staring out of the window, mouthing along to the song. “Alright, there?” Remus asked, leaning on his forearms opposite.

“Huh? Oh! I like this song. You have good taste.”

“Aye, I ken my music.” Remus acknowledged. Fenrir had hated his music taste, always calling it old fashioned and whiny. Fenrir… Fenrir had no place in Remus’ head anymore, and Remus hated that he had been thinking of him so often as of late, comparing Sirius to Fenrir, like they were at all similar, in personality or position in Remus’ life. For fourteen long, intense, horrific months, Fenrir had been the centre of Remus’ entire universe, and the cause of all his pain. Sirius had been his neighbour for less than three months. Remus shook his head, as if he could shake Fenrir and his leering face and cruel eyes out of it, and focused his gaze back on Sirius’ face.

“What does Harry do on Wednesdays then?”

“He has playgroup. His best friend’s mum runs it for their whole class. Gives us all a night off. It ends at seven though, so he’s always home by seven thirty, which is in exactly fifteen minutes, so I’m going to have to jog home.” Sirius checked his phone as he spoke, and immediately hopped off the bar stool.

“And you spend your few precious free hours here? In this pub?” Remus asked disbelievingly as Sirius tugged a battered leather jacket over his shoulders, which Remus resolutely refused to admit was attractive.

“No, silly. I spend them with you.” Sirius responded cryptically, before legging it out the pub. Remus watched through the window as Sirius jogged all the way down the street.

*

Mary had not been joking about her Thekla plan, and Remus found himself in a group chat with his co-workers and Dorcas, deciding that the next Saturday they were all going clubbing, because the pub was closed all day for safety inspections.

Mother-Mary

I can host pres, but I live out in Redland, so if anyone is closer that would be greatly appreciated.

Petty-Peter

You guys can come mine? My housemates might be in but they shouldn’t bother us. I live just behind whapping wharf.

Mother-Mary

Excellent, you’re a legend, Pete. start pres at say seven? Thekla is silly early entry.

Remus

Should I bring anything? Drinks?

Dorky

Yes I can bring some booze. Hope I’ve not caught the wrong vibe here, but anyone fancy splitting a bag?

*

Peter’s house was cosy and welcoming. Like any typical student house, the living room was strung up with fairy lights and filled with empty bottles of alcohol and pizza boxes. The sofas were sad, sagging leather and practically ate Remus’ body as he sank into one, next to Mary. She was dressed in skin-tight leather trousers and a complicated looking top that was made up of a lot of string and not much fabric. She looked really good. Her face was always pretty, but the outfit was a far cry from her usual pub uniform of a band hoodie and Levi’s that looked older than she was. Her hair- which she usually slicked back into a ponytail or bun, was left out and framed her face, the soft curls defying gravity.

Pete was dressed much like he always was, as was Remus. He had put on his nicer jeans, a wide-legged pair of Carhartts that he had found in a charity shop in Aberdeen, and an old beegees t shirt that was small enough on him that it was almost cropped. Dorcas was having problems taking her eyes off him, he noticed and he let the attention buoy his confidence as he prepared for first real night out since his undergrad.

Dorcas was sharing a sofa and a bottle of wine with Mary, and was dressed in a skin-tight yellow dress that went perfectly with her rich brown skin, and showed off miles of toned thigh. They were an attractive group, he reasoned, and they got on well. The hours in Peter’s kitchen flew by, filled with laughter and smiles and common ground discovered. Even Remus found himself smiling at times, the neck of his bottle of Stella held loosely between his fingers as he reclined into the sofa and listened to Peter enthusiastically- read, drunkenly- recount the hilarious reasons he earned the unfortunate nickname ‘wormy’ at his secondary school.

“No you guys don’t even understand how gross it was!! Worm meal in the fucking flapjacks!! I’ve never thrown up so much in my life.”

“Aw Pete.” Remus commiserated, clapping the blond boy on the shoulder, his smile hurting his cheeks for the first time he could remember.

“I think my worst school story was the time in sixth form,” Dorcas began, filling her glass up with cheap rosé, “and me and this girl had been kind of seeing each other, and it was after school, I dragged her into the computer lab and we were necking, and one thing leads to another and I end up w my head between her legs, proper feasting, and my head of year walks in!” Mary spit out her wine and Peter started guffawing.

“I’ve never been more embarrassed. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole, it was awful.” Dorcas was waving her arms around, wine sloshing over the side of her glass, her dark cheeks glowing with a pinkish tint.

“You dinnae know embarrassing.” Remis piped up, surprising even himself with his willingness to tell this story. “I was caught sucking the cock of the gap year teaching assistant by my principal.”

“Remus! You sly dog!” Mary exclaimed. “Tell us more!”

“He was barely a year older than I was, and proper fit like. Verra tall and mysterious, and he was always asking me for help with his tasks, and one day during lunch hour he cornered me in an office, and I ended up on my knees for him, and the headmaster walked in, looking for the photocopier. He was sat on it.”

“Remus!” Dorcas choked out between bouts of laughter.

“Right, girls. Shall we head off?” Mary said to the group, chugging down the last of her wine and standing up, hauling Dorcas with her. They all stood and shuffled out of Peter’s house and into the frigid night air. October was beginning to approach its end and the temperature had dropped significantly. Gone were the balmy September evenings when Remus could walk home without a jacket. At least he had his beer blanket that allowed him to stroll through the harbourside, arm in arm with Dorcas, the two of them swaying slightly as they made their way over to the boat all strung up with fairy lights.

Thekla was unlike any of the clubs Remus had been to in Scotland. It was a boat, first of all, and the novelty of it had him smiling as he presented his ID to the bouncer and entered. The smoking area was the deck of the boat, and that’s where the group went first, Mary and Remus smoking rollies, Dorcas and Peter looking out over the water.

“Right, cheeky detour before we hit the dancefloor?” Mary asked, winking at Remus as she herded them all into the disabled bathroom after they had finished smoking. Safely in and door locked, she reached into her bra and produced a small baggie filled with a flourish. Dorcas dug her house keys out of her little handbag and the four of them set about doing bumps as quietly as possible so none of the security guards clocked there were four people in the stall.

Remus didn’t remember much after that. Small, unassuming Peter kept buying rounds of shots and Mary and Dorcas kept the coke consumption steady throughout the night. The music wasn't exactly what Remus would listen to on his own time but it was all good club music- cheesy pop hits with strong beats that made them easy to dance to. And dance he did. Remus wasn’t a huge dancer, but sandwiched between Peter and Dorcas, or all holding hands in a circle, it was like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and he could move freely with the music. The girls looked like they were glowing under the club lights, and Peter kept grinning at Remus with enthusiasm, and they kept stumbling off to the smoking area to laugh and chat and Remus felt liked for the first time in so long, and the feeling sparked a small ember of warmth inside his cold, dying heart.

*

The next day, in the harsh, cold light of morning, Remus did not feel as good. His nose was blocked and his head was pounding and he had forgotten how rough the aftermath of a good night was. And it had been a good night, they had left well past three in the morning and Remus had walked the girls home, getting them to their doors safely, and the conversation had flowed easily and freely, and even through the pounding of his head and the roiling of his stomach, Remus’ soul felt lighter.

A banging at the door around ten in the morning was desperately unwelcome though, and Remus yanked on last night's t-shirt over his boxers as he stumbled down the stairs. He opened the door to see Harry and Sirius, the latter stood behind the former with his hand on the young boy's shoulder, and Harry was clutching a very colourful envelope in his hands.

“Alright, Harry? Sirius?” Remus’ throat was ravaged from the singing and his voice came out hoarse. God, he needed a smoke. Harry opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but didn’t say anything. He reached one hand back to grasp at Sirius’ t-shirt, cheeks turning pink. “Go on, Sprog.” Sirius encouraged, crouching down to Harry’s level and giving him a nod.

“What’s up, Harry?” Remus encouraged.

“Would you like to come to my Halloween party? And also and also would you like to come to the special bit beforehand with only my extra special bestest friends to Carve pumpkins?” Harry gabbled out quickly, eyes darting all around. When he finished, he turned around and buried his face in Sirius’ stomach.

“Of course I would, Harry.” Remus didn’t even know how far away halloween was, but he felt genuinely touched to be invited, and swore to book the day off work so he could attend. Sirius could likely use the extra help with children as well.

“Go on, Prongslet, give him your invitation.” At Sirius’ reminder, Harry spun around again and thrust the envelope at Remus, who took it to see that his name had been painstakingly copied out in marker on the front. It was so sweet, and tears threatened behind Remus’ eyes.

“Thank you Harry. Do I have to wear a costume?”

“Oh yes of course.” Harry nodded seriously. “Pads is gunna make me a rockstar.”

“Oh aye? That’s a cracking costume. I shall have to think about mine.” Remus responded, catching Sirius eye, and smiling at the other man.

“You’re so tall.” Harry said, staring up at Remus with awe like he just noticed. “Are you tall enough to touch the moon! I bet you are. Maybe you’re the man in the moon! Moony!” he said, giggling and pointing up at the sky, even though the moon was nowhere to be seen.

“Alright prongslet. Invitation delivered. Time to go.” Sirius said, taking Harry by the shoulder and begging to steer him down Remus’ front steps. “Say buh-bye to Remus.”

“Buh-bye Moony! See you soon!” Harry called, waving rapidly as he skipped down the steps.

“Bye, Harry. Bye, Sirius.” Remus called. Sirius winked over his shoulder and Remus shut the door before the other man could see him blush. God, this was getting ridiculous.

Remus had a long, hot shower that made him feel slightly less like he was on the brink of death, followed by half a carton of fried eggs, which also helped.

Dorky

How are we feeling lads?

Mother-Mary

I forgot I'm not twenty anymore. Gna take me weeks to recover

Petty-Pete

I woke up to my forces full of sick. And a loo full of sick. And a bed full of sick.

Remus

My sympathies Pete. I still can’t breathe thru my nose.

Mother-Mary

We’re old and decrepit now guys. Was one of the best nights out I’ve ever had tho. We have to go out again soon !!

Dorky

Oh, alright you’ve twisted my arm.

Petty-Pete

Next time you guys can’t keep feeding me shots

Remus

..Pete, you were buying them mate.

Petty-Pete

Ah. My bad

Remus chucked at his phone as he ate his body weight in fried eggs.

*

Sundays were Peter’s night off, and Remus and Mary were very much worse for wear behind the bar at the pub. The smell of the pints they were pulling were making them gag, and Remus couldn’t walk too fast or his breakfast threatened mutiny, so they were slow and sluggish as they worked. Luckily, Sundays were never busy past nine, and the final, agonising hours of their shift passed with little to do.

“So, how’s Sirius?” Mary asked, smirking as they wiped down the tables for close. Remus raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “He’s my neighbour. What do you mean, how is he?”

“I mean,” Mary drew out her vowels in a drawl, “how’s Sirius?” She asked again, moving her eyebrows suggestively before cackling and Remus rolled his eyes at her and swatted at her shoulder.

“He’s fine.” Remus responded shortly, purposely being obtuse as he started wiping down the taps and emptying out the drip trays. “Whatever you say, Remmy boy.” Mary responded, stretching up to try and ruffle Remus’ hair, which she knew he hated. Luckily for him, he was 6’4 to her 5’5 and he grabbed her hand before it got higher than his shoulder.

“I hate it when you call me that.” He sighed, playing with her fingers.

“And that is why I do it. Go and sort the kegs so we can get out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Remus made his way down the basement, still chuckling. It felt good to have lighthearted fun with his friends. Hell, it felt good to have friends. People he actually liked, and who seemed to like him in return.