Chapter 14
THEY SLEPT IN SHIFTS that night, driving steadily northwest.
The states changed from California to Nevada and then back again as they danced with the border, leaving the desert behind them and entering the mountains — the Sierra Nevada.
By around six a.m., the route had grown so steep that Sirius had to keep changing gears as he steered the truck up the twisting roads.
He knew that hidden in the predawn shadows, there was a drop of several hundred feet to one side, with only a flimsy guardrail between it and the truck.
In several places, the sweep of their headlights showed skid marks, where cars had crashed into it.
Finally, on the mountain side of the road, he spotted the hard, rocky scrabble that he remembered from the camping trip with Regulus, when they’d first found this place.
Engaging the four-wheel drive, Sirius steered them off-road and the truck obediently started up the hill.
A minute later, they’d rounded a bend, taking them out of view from the main road.
Remus stirred, lifted his head. “Where are we?” He asked sleepily, his blond hair tousled.
Glancing at him, Sirius found it hard to take his gaze away; he looked so soft and vulnerable.
“Not there yet,” he said. “Go back to sleep if you want.”
Instead Remus stretched and sat up, peering out the window. “The place is up here?”
“Yeah, about fifteen miles back in the mountains.” Sirius concentrated as he drove; the way was even worse than he remembered, even in a truck like this.
They moved slowly, rocking from side to side as the 4x4 crawled upward.
After more than an hour, they finally came to a high, stony valley, with grass and shrubs growing resolutely between the rocks.
Sirius parked the truck.
They were in a sort of bowl in the middle of the mountains; around them, the morning sun tinged the peaks with a golden light, making them appear to glow from the inside.
“This is . . . beautiful,” said Remus, shaking his head with awe. “Are we camping?”
“Kind of.”
Climbing out of the truck, Sirius suddenly felt happier than he’d felt in a long time.
The air was so fresh up here that it hit you like a rush of adrenaline, waking you up and making you feel alive.
He grinned at Remus. “Come on, it’s time for the hiking boots.”
They got their boots on, and Remus pulled the bright red sweater over his head.
Sirius had been right; it looked great on him.
“This place is gorgeous,” Remus repeated softly, taking in the early morning mist that curled about the valley and the evergreens that spiked toward the sky.
Then he glanced at the truck. “Wait a minute. Do we have to carry all this stuff?”
“Yep. It’s not far.” Sirius grabbed one of the boxes, and Remus did the same.
There was a thin deer trail leading steeply up through the rocky underbrush to the north.
They started climbing, winding their way through the pine trees.
About a hundred yards up, they came to a clearing with a stream running through it.
A small, dilapidated cabin sat nearby, leaning slightly to one side.
“Oh!” gasped Remus, stopping short.
“Sirius, what is this place?”
Shifting his weight to open the door with one hand, Sirius entered the cabin and dumped his box on the table.
Remus followed him, wide-eyed. “Regulus and I built it, sort of,” he said.
“You — really?”
He nodded.
“Sometimes we used to go off camping on our own for a couple of days, on the way back from a hunt. When we found this place, it had half fallen down. We came back here a couple of times, fixed it up some.”
Glancing around him, Sirius realized that he’d forgotten how basic the cabin actually was.
There was greenish moss growing on one of the walls, and the ancient camping bed looked like something had been nesting in it. Still, it was better than being shot at.
Remus's eyes were shining. “You’re a genius,” he said fervently, dropping his box down beside Sirius's. “Nobody will ever find us here.”
Sirius smiled.
The cabin was pretty much their only option, but he was glad that Remus didn’t mind it.
“Just don’t breathe too hard, or the roof might cave in.”
They started moving the rest of their things inside, hiking back and forth from the truck.
Remus took his sweater off, tying it around his waist. “I wonder who used to live up here, anyway?”
He said as they started up with another load. His cheeks were pink with exertion.
“Probably a prospector,” said Sirius.
He was carrying a box on his shoulder as he moved up the trail. “There’s a sort of wooden contraption behind the cabin, like you’d use to pan for gold.”
“What, like the forty-niners? Do people still do that?”
“Yeah, I guess . . . just drop out of life and go off panning.”
Out here in the middle of nowhere, with only the mountains and the sky around them, Sirius could see the appeal.
If there weren’t any angels in the world, he’d be tempted to do something like that himself.
When all their things were finally in the cabin, Sirius got the camping ax from one of the boxes and they went back down to the truck, where Remus helped him camouflage it so that it couldn’t be seen from the air.
First they hacked off slim, prickly branches from the surrounding pine trees, then wove them into a screen on the truck’s roof and hood, securing it all in place with twine.
“Look at us: we should start a camouflage business. Do you think it’ll hold?” said Remus finally, taking a few steps back and studying their handiwork.
Sirius replaced the ax in its leather case. “Should be OK. We’ll keep checking on it to make sure.”
Remus shook his head, his green eyes admiring. “You know, I really don’t think disguising the truck would have even occurred to me.”
Sirius laughed. “Yeah, but if it breaks down, you’re the one who gets to fix it — I bought you a tool kit, just in case.”
They climbed back up the narrow trail to the cabin.
Inside, the small space was overflowing with boxes and bags.
Sirius started shifting them into some kind of order, glad to have something to do.
All at once he was very conscious of the fact that he and Remus were out here alone together, sharing the same small, intimate space.
Remus helped him stack the food boxes at one end of the cabin.
He had fallen silent since they’d gotten inside, and Sirius saw Remus give him a troubled glance when he thought Sirius wasn’t looking.
After several minutes, the quiet felt like it might choke him.
He cleared his throat. “I got a camping stove and some gas for us to cook with . . . I mean, it won’t be great, but —”
“No, it’s perfect,” said Remus.
His eyes flashed to Sirius's and then away again, his face reddening.
Remus turned quickly and put his clothes bag in the corner, rolling down its plastic top.
Sirius started to say something, but stopped as the realization thundered through him.
Remus felt the same way about him.
He hadn’t been sure.
Even when he’d almost kissed Remus, Sirius hadn’t really known what he was feeling — apart from that somehow he liked him, even after what a jerk Sirius had been to start with.
But now . . .
It doesn’t change anything, Sirius told himself dazedly.
It’s still a really bad idea.
Even so, he stood frozen, staring at Remus as the world seemed to shrink around them.
Straightening, Remus self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, not meeting Sirius's gaze.
“Listen, is it possible to . . . ? I mean, I’d sort of like to get washed off and changed, but —”
Sirius came abruptly back to himself. “Yeah, there’s the stream, but it’s pretty cold. And . . . I didn’t get a towel.”
Damn. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
“That’s OK,” said Remus. “I can just use a T-shirt or something to dry off with.”
Sirius grabbed one of his old ones from his bag. “Here, use this.”
Their fingers touched as Remus took it from him. “Thanks.”
Sirius turned away, pretending to be fiddling with the camping stove as Remus rooted through his shopping bag for fresh clothes.
There was nothing to fiddle with; all you did was hook up the gas lead to it.
Finally, Remus hesitated by the door.
He was holding a neat pile of clothing with a bar of motel soap perched on top of it; Sirius's T-shirt was under his arm, along with one of the rolls of toilet paper he’d bought.
At least he’d remembered that much. “I guess the facilities are outside, right?” Remus said awkwardly.
“Yeah. Sorry,” said Sirius, rising to his feet.
“God, don’t be sorry! This place is amazing. You’re amazing.” Red swept his face again.
Ducking his head away, he said hurriedly, “So, anyway, I’ll just go to the stream.” Then he was gone, the door shutting softly behind him.
Sirius let out a breath.
He found himself rearranging the cardboard boxes, so that a few that had been on the bottom were now on the top.
He thought he’d give anything for some really hard, physical work right then — about ten miles on the treadmill would do it, or a hundred reps of the biceps press.
After twenty minutes or so, the door opened and Remus came back in, his green eyes dancing.
“OK, I’m feeling invigorated now. You seriously weren’t kidding; that was cold!” He was wearing jeans and the red sweater; a pale blue T-shirt peeked out from the bottom of the sweater.
Sirius grinned, relieved to feel the mood ease. “Hey, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I hung your shirt over a branch outside,” he said, tucking his things away in the bag. “It can be our designated towel, OK?”
“Sounds good.”
“So . . . ” He stood up again and gave a small, smiling shrug.
It was only about ten a.m.; they had a whole day to fill.
Eager to avoid that sort of tension building again, Sirius said, “Hey, do you play cards?”
He dug in one of the boxes. “I bought us a deck.”
Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius as he sat down at the table.
“Are you sure you want to risk this, when I almost beat you at quarters? I play Go Fish. Does that count?”
“Go Fish?” He held back a laugh. “Yeah, I think I’ll risk it.”
Sitting in the rickety chair to him right, Sirius took the cellophane wrapping off the cards; the plastic made a crinkling sound as he put it aside. “Is that all you play? How about blackjack? Or canasta?”
Remus shook his head with a grin.
His hair was damp, curling around his ears. “Sorry. I think I must have had a disadvantaged childhood.”
“Gin rummy?”
“Barely.”
“I’ll teach you blackjack first,” Sirius said, thumbing through the deck and pulling the jokers out.
“It’s really easy.” The deck rattled as he shuffled it.
He dealt them two cards each, one face up and one face down, flipping them expertly across the table.
“So, why am I not surprised that you’re a card shark?” Remus lifted hos facedown card, peering at it.
Sirius shrugged as he looked at his own card, trying not to notice the way Remus's face lit up when he smiled.
“We used to play a lot, back at the camp. There wasn’t much else to do at night without a TV, apart from listening to the coyotes howl. . . . OK, I’m the dealer this round, so you’re trying to beat me. The goal is to get as close to twenty-one points as you can without going over. Wait, we need something to bet with —”
Shoving back his chair, he delved into one of the grocery boxes and found a large bag of M&M’s.
Peter had always had a sweet tooth, he remembered with a pang.
“Great,” said Remus when he saw them. “That can be breakfast, too.”
He had a point; suddenly Sirius was starving.
Sirius opened the bag and scooped out a handful, then slid it across to Remus.
“OK, the face cards are ten points each, the ace is worth either one or eleven, and the rest are what they say they are.”
He popped a brown M&M into his mouth.
Remus seemed to think this over, munching a few candies as he gazed at his cards. “And we’re supposed to be going to twenty-one, right?”
“Right.”
“Cool.” He had a king showing.
He flipped over his other card, and Sirius groaned, laughing, as he saw that it was an ace.
“I’d like the ace to be worth eleven points, please,” Remus said, dimpling a smile at him. “What do I win?”
“Oh man, you asked for it. What you win is me taking my gloves off and wiping the floor with you.”
Scraping the cards toward him, Sirius shuffled the deck again and slapped it in front of Remus.
“Your deal. Though I’m not really sure why I keep putting myself through this with you.”
Remus gave him an arch look as he picked up the cards. “Glutton for punishment, obviously.”
They played for hours, sometimes stopping to talk.
As if by mutual agreement, neither of them mentioned anything about angels.
They just talked, sharing stories from their lives.
Sirius found out that Remus liked to cook and that he even made homemade jam in the fall; he told Remus about his secret love of astronomy, and how in the camp he used to lie on the desert ground at night and stare up at the stars.
After a while, they heated up a couple of cans of chili for lunch, eating straight from the cans with metal camping forks.
Remembering that there were a few six-packs of beer in one of Peter's boxes, Sirius went outside to put one in the stream to chill.
“We’ve got a fridge,” said Remus, drifting out after him.
“Yeah, all the modern conveniences.” Sirius straightened up from the stream and stretched, feeling stiff from sitting still for so long. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
They put on their hiking boots and explored the area around the cabin for the rest of the afternoon, following the different deer trails.
Remus was very relaxed company, easy to talk to when either of them felt like talking or just as happy to stay quiet, lost in his own thoughts as they climbed.
Glancing at his profile as they sat on a boulder looking out at the view, it suddenly struck Sirius that he’d never felt so comfortable with anyone in his life.
It felt as if he’d known Remus always.
No.
It felt like Remus was a part of him.
He was silent as they hiked back to the cabin.
When they got to the stream, Remus walked ahead of him, bending down and touching the beer cans.
“You’ll be happy to know that the fridge works,” he said over his shoulder with a grin. “Do you want one?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Remus handed him a cold beer, then carefully nestled the rest of the six-pack back into the stream, resting it against a rock.
"You don’t want one?” he asked as they headed into the cabin, stopping to take their boots off.
Remus shook his head. “I don’t really drink; it just makes me fall asleep. I might have a few sips of yours, though.”
They went back to playing cards, heating up another meal when they got hungry.
As it started to get dark, Sirius lit the camping lantern he’d bought, putting it in the center of the table.
Remus slipped outside to use the “facilities” and returned wearing a pair of navy-blue sweatpants instead of his jeans.
“A little bit comfier,” he explained.
Remus dropped into his seat again, to Sirius's left at the small table.
They had turned to gin rummy by then, playing for matchsticks after the M and M’s were all gone.
Picking up his cards, Remus settled back into his chair and drew a knee up, his bare foot curled over the edge of his seat as he inspected his hand.
Sirius gazed at him.
His mouth was slightly open; he ran his fingernail against his lower teeth as he thought.
The hair at the nape of his neck looked soft, curly strands falling over his forehead and gleaming in the lantern light.
Suddenly all of Sirius's objections seemed meaningless.
Don’t, he thought. You’ll regret it.
He didn’t care anymore.
Slowly, unable to stop himself, he reached out and cupped his hand around Remus's foot.
Remus's eyes flew to his, startled.
They stared at each other.
His foot felt small under Sirius's hand; he rubbed it lightly with his thumb, feeling the silky heat of Remus's skin, his pulse hammering through his veins.
Sirius felt like he was falling.
All he could see was Remus.
He looked close to tears. “Sirius—”
Leaning across the corner of the table, he cradled Remus's face in his hands and kissed him.
His lips were soft and warm.
With a sob, Remus returned the kiss, throwing his arms around Sirius's neck.
He opened his mouth, tasting Remus; felt his hair under his fingers, wrapped around his hands.
Happiness burst through Sirius, exploding through his chest.
Remus. Oh, God, Remus.
Remus started to pull away. “Sirius, wait — are you sure about this? I’m half angel. I can’t change that.”
He almost laughed. “Shut up,” he whispered.
It was awkward with the table between them.
Scooping an arm under Remus's knees, Sirius pulled Remus gently onto his lap, holding him close as they kissed.
His body was perfect.
His curly hair tickled around Sirius's face; he stroked it back, twining his fingers through it.
The feel of Remus's lips on his, the warmth of him as he pressed against Sirius— nothing had ever felt so right.
At last they came apart, staring at each other in wonder.
Sirius could feel that he was smiling; he couldn’t stop.
“You are so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.
Remus shook his head, looking dazed.
He touched Sirius's face; he shivered as Remus traced his eyebrow with his fingers.
“I never thought this would happen,” Remus said. He swallowed. “I’ve really been wanting it to.”
“Oh, God, me too . . . me too.”
Pulling Remus back to him, he kissed him again, feeling their hearts thudding through the soft cotton of their shirts.
There were no words for a while, just holding Remus, kissing him.
When they finally paused for breath, Sirius said against his lips, “I’ve been wanting to do that since practically the first time I saw you.”
Remus pulled away slightly, his eyes widening in surprise. “But you hated me then.”
“No, I didn’t,” Sirius murmured.
He kissed Remus's neck, his cheek.
“I never hated you. Even when I thought I should, I was so attracted to you that I could hardly stand it. I’ve been going insane these last few days.”
Remus gaped at him. “You have? I couldn’t tell. At the rest stop, I — I thought I must have just imagined it.”
All he wanted to do was keep kissing Remus, but he seemed so stunned that Sirius started to laugh.
“You’re supposed to be psychic; you really couldn’t tell what I was feeling?”
“No!” Remus gave a short laugh, looking dumbfounded. “I was too — I could hardly even breathe when you were touching me, hardly think. I thought you were just comforting me, and that you only wanted to be friends.”
Sirius slowly ran his hand along Remus's arm; just the feel of his skin made his breath catch.
“Believe me, being friends was the last thing on my mind. I wanted to kiss you so much that it hurt.”
Remus hesitated. “Why didn’t you? Because I’m half angel?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t cared about that in days. It was because . . . ”
He could hardly even remember now why this hadn’t seemed like a good idea. “Because I’m an idiot, I guess.”
Remus sat very still.
Around them, there was only the glow of the camp lantern and the velvet silence from outside.
“It really doesn’t bother you, then? What I am?”
Emotion tightened his chest.
He took Remus's face in his hands, feeling the smoothness of his cheeks against his palms.
“Remus, all I care about is that you’re you, and — and that you’re with me. That’s all that matters.”
“Really?” He whispered, his eyes bright with tears.
Sirius laughed suddenly, smoothing his blond hair back.
“Hey, I’m the lucky one this time, don’t you know that? You are so — absolutely incredible. Everything about you.”
He saw Remus's throat move. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m pretty lucky, too, actually.”
Touching his hair, Remus leaned hesitantly forward, and Sirius folded his arms around Remus, sinking into sensation again as they kissed — the slight weight of Remus on his lap, the smell of him.
Sirius glided his hands up the warm dip of his spine, felt him shiver and press closer.
Sirius could never get enough of this.
Never.
Finally Remus pulled back. “Wow,” he said weakly. “That’s even more amazing than I thought it would be.”
Sirius's arms were still looped around his waist; it took a serious effort not to draw him back to Sirius and start kissing him again.
He managed to control himself and grinned. “You mean with me or just in general?”
“In general,” Remus said. “But I have a feeling it’s especially amazing with you.”
He leaned back in Sirius's arms, studying him.
Shaking his head with a slight smile, Remus reached out and stroked the line of Sirius's cheekbone. “Do you even realize how gorgeous you are?”
What Sirius realized was that he was happier than he’d ever been.
He gazed at Remus, drinking in his face, feeling amazed that this was happening — that Remus was here with him and that he actually felt the same way.
“Come here,” he said softly.
And pulling Remus toward him, Sirius simply held him, cradled against his chest.
~~~~~~~~~
Remus sat there with Sirius holding him for a long time, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart beating through his shirt.
Around them there was absolute silence, broken only by the distant hooting of an owl somewhere out in the night.
Remus was still trying to believe that this was true — that Remus was really here, with Sirius's arms around him.
His heart felt so full that it was almost like a pain in his chest.
Finally Sirius shifted his weight on the chair, and Remus realized he was getting uncomfortable.
Remus sat up on his lap.
“Maybe we should go to bed,” Remus said.
Then he realized what he had said, and his cheeks flamed.
Sirius went very still.
Remus swallowed. “I mean —”
“You mean sleep, right?” Sirius said at the same time.
Remus nodded.
“Thought so,” he said.
He took Remus's hand, rubbing his thumb against his palm in lazy circles, and Remus felt himself go weak.
“I’m not sure how much sleep I’ll get with you in the same room, but — yeah, OK. Do you want to take the bed? I can crash on the floor.”
There was no way that Remus wanted Sirius to stop touching him, even for a few hours.
His pulse thudded as he glanced across at the camp bed. Remus cleared his throat.
“Well . . . is there a reason we can’t both take the bed? The sleeping bags zip together, don’t they?”
Sirius stared at him without moving.
“Would that be OK?” Remus asked, feeling nervous suddenly.
The lantern light made his eyes look darker, his hair almost black.
He started to smile, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes, that would be extremely OK.”
They brushed off the camp bed and got the sleeping bags out of their compact nylon bags, fluffing them out.
They were black, with a bright blue lining. Kneeling on the floor together, they silently worked the zippers.
Remus's fingers felt clumsy as he fumbled with them.
The thought of lying next to Sirius all night, holding him, was making Remus light-headed.
“There,” Sirius said finally, getting up and flopping the sleeping bags onto the bed. “Everything except pillows.”
He glanced at Remus, and the look in his eyes exactly reflected how Remus felt — so warm and so full of wonder that this had actually happened between them.
I love you, Sirius, he thought. I love you so much.
“Who needs pillows?” Remus whispered.
Stepping forward, he slipped his arms around Sirius's waist, resting his head against his chest.
Sirius's own arms encircled Remus, holding him close.
“Remember back in Arkansas, when we were looking at the cotton?” Remus said. “I really wanted to do this then. Just . . . put my arms around you.”
Sirius tipped his chin up with his hand, kissing Remus.
Remus could feel his smile against his mouth. “I would have loved it,” he said. “We seriously wouldn’t have gotten much driving done the rest of that day, though.”
Remus shook his head. “No, probably not.”
As Sirius went outside to get changed, Remus quickly brushed his teeth.
Wavering for a moment, he finally pulled off the red sweater that Sirius had gotten him, leaving on the sweatpants and T-shirt.
The bandage on his left arm looked stark against his skin; Remus touched it, remembering how Sirius's fingers had lingered when he’d put it on.
Sitting on the edge of the camp bed, Remus brushed his hair.
He did that every night, but he didn't think it'd ever felt so charged with meaning.
With every stroke of the brush, all Remus could think of was Sirius, out there in the darkness.
Remus almost jumped when the door opened.
Sirius came back inside, wearing black sweatpants; Remus swallowed as he saw Sirius's chest was bare.
“Forgot my T-shirt,” Sirius said sheepishly.
His bag was on the floor near the bed, and Remus watched the lantern light play on his skin as he crossed to it.
Squatting by the bag, he pulled out a T-shirt; Remus sat frozen, taking in the movement of his back and shoulders.
Remus stood up, his heart hammering. “Wait. Can I just . . . ?” He trailed off as Sirius turned to look at him.
“What?” Sirius said, rising to his feet.
An embarrassed laugh escaped Remus.
He shook his head. “Just — before you put that on, can I . . . ?”
In slow motion, Remus went over to him.
He reached out toward Sirius's chest and then stopped, his fingers hesitating an inch from his skin. “Is — is this all right?”
Sirius stood very still, a soft smile on his face. “Anything you want is all right.”
Gently, Remus ran his hand across Sirius's chest, exploring it.
Remus's breath felt tight in his throat.
Sirius was so beautiful.
His muscles were toned, defined, his skin warm and smooth.
Stroking his palm up over the line of his collarbone, Remus felt the firmness of his shoulder, the strength of his bicep.
Remus traced his fingers over the black AK, following the lines of the letters.
Sirius hardly moved as Remus touched him, his eyes never leaving Remus.
Finally Remus sighed and dropped his hand.
He tried to smile. “I’ve sort of been wanting to do that ever since that first night in the motel room,” Remus admitted.
Sirius's eyebrows shot up. “You have? But you hated me then.”
“I know, but you were still gorgeous.”
Unable to stop himself, Remus trailed his hand across Sirius's torso again.
“Anyway, I didn’t hate you. I really wanted to, but I think I knew even then —” Remus broke off as heat swept his cheeks.
He had almost said the words; he'd almost told Sirius he loved him.
“What?” asked Sirius.
Remus couldn’t meet his gaze.
Remus stared at the table just behind him — the mess of cards on it, the lantern giving off its quiet glow.
“When you gave me your shirt to wear that night, I could feel you. I could feel your essence.”
The world went still.
They were standing only inches from each other, not touching.
Outside, Remus could hear the faint murmur of the wind blowing through the trees.
“What did it feel like?” he asked in a low voice.
“Like . . . coming home,” Remus admitted.
His chest clenched as he looked up at Sirius.
His eyes were locked on Remus.
Taking his arms, Sirius sat them both down on the bed. “Remus, you know that you said you couldn’t tell how I felt at the rest stop?”
Remus nodded, and Sirius took his hand, laying it flat on his chest with his own hand resting over it. “Can you tell now?” he asked.
His heart beat firmly under Remus's hand; his own pulse was pounding so hard that he could barely think straight.
Closing his eyes, Remus took a deep, steadying breath, and then another as he tried to clear his mind, to feel what he was feeling.
For a moment there was just the softness of their breathing — then all at once it washed over Remus in a great wave.
Sirius was in love with him, too.
Remus opened his eyes.
Sirius was still holding Remus's hand to his chest, watching Remus, his expression more serious than Remus had ever seen it.
Unable to speak, Remus slowly dropped his hand and wrapped his arms around Sirius.
His own arms came around Remus as he rested his head on Remus's hair.
“I really do, you know,” he said, his voice rough.
“I know,” Remus whispered back. “I do, too.”
For a long time they just held each other, their hearts beating hard.
Remus's eyes were closed, his face pressed against the warm dip between Sirius's shoulder and neck.
Sirius.
Remus felt a happiness so great that it was like a deep stillness within him, as if something he'd been looking for his entire life had just slotted into place, making him whole.
Finally Sirius drew back.
Stroking his hair from his face, Sirius kissed him slowly, and Remus wanted to melt.
“I can’t believe that I can just do that whenever I want to now,” he whispered. “You may not be getting much done for the next few weeks. Or months, or years.”
Years.
Remus's heart skipped, hoping that was true. “I think I can live with that,” Remus said.
Hardly able to believe that he could touch Sirius whenever he wanted to, either, he slid his hand down Sirius's arm, feeling the different textures of him: hard muscle, smooth skin.
“Do you want to go to bed?” Remus asked softly.
Then, for the second time that night, he felt his face flame at the question.
Sirius smiled and touched his cheek. “You still mean sleep, right?”
“Still sleep.” Remus's skin was on fire.
“Just making sure. Yeah, sleep sounds good. I’m sure I’ll manage to drop off. Eventually.” His smile turned teasing. “Do I have to put my shirt on?”
Remus couldn’t help smiling, too, though embarrassment was still singeing through him.
“No, I’d rather you didn’t,” he admitted.
They turned out the camping lantern and got into the sleeping bags, where they lay in each other’s arms listening to the soft sounds of the wind outside.
The bed was narrow, so that it was almost like trying to balance on a diving board — but Remus had never felt so comfortable or safe in his life than there with Sirius's arms around him, his head on Sirius's chest.
Sirius touched his hair as they lay in the darkness, smoothing the longer strands across his torso.
“Is it bothering you?” Remus asked.
“No, I love it; it’s so soft.” Remus felt him twining his fingers through, playing with it gently.
“I was right, you know,” Sirius said. “Those guys in Pawtucket are complete idiots.”
Remus smiled. “So would you have taken me to the prom, if you went to Hogwarts High?”
“Yeah, definitely,” he said. “I bet you’d look so beautiful . . . even more than you usually do.”
Warmth filled Remus.
He straightened up slightly, trying to see Sirius's face in the darkness. “You really think that, don’t you?”
“What, that you’re beautiful?” Sirius sounded surprised. “You are. The first time I saw you, you were wearing these pink pajamas and a gray T-shirt, and you were making coffee . . . and I just couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Remus couldn’t believe that he actually remembered what Remus had been wearing. “And the first time I saw you, all I could think of was doing this.”
Remus traced his lips with his finger; Sirius took Remus's hand in his and kissed it.
“So would you have worn a tux to the prom?” Remus asked as he nestled back against Sirius.
Sirius's hand moved to his shoulder, rubbing it lightly. “Do the guys wear tuxes? Yeah, I guess I would in that case. I’d have to at least try to look as good as you.”
Remus imagined him in a crisp black-and-white tuxedo, and smiled as Sirius ran a finger over Remus's chest.
“You know that half the girls in school would have been after you.”
Sirius gave a soft laugh. “If they were into someone who was flunking out . . . I don’t think I’d do too well with having to go to class when a bell rings or caring about homework. . . .”
“A bad boy — even better. You’d have done well in Spanish class.”
“If I ever went to it.”
They lay in silence for a while; Sirius's arms felt so warm and safe that Remus was starting to get sleepy.
“Say something in Spanish,” Remus mumbled.
Sirius kissed his hair. “Te amo, Remus,” he said quietly.
Remus came awake, smiling into the darkness. “What does that mean?” He whispered.
Remus could almost hear Sirius's own smile. “What do you think it means?”
Remus hugged him, kissing his collarbone and wondering if it was possible to actually die of happiness. “Te amo, Sirius.”
~~~~~~~
You’d think that a cabin in the middle of nowhere, with no TV or electricity, would be a place where you’d start to go pretty seriously stir-crazy soon.
But it was the exact opposite.
Being with Sirius, in a place where they could relax instead of being constantly on the run, was just . . . magical.
That first morning, Remus woke up to find Sirius lying on his side with his head propped on his hand, looking down at Remus and smiling.
Tingles swept over Remus; it was like waking up and remembering that it’s Christmas.
“Good morning,” he said, drinking Sirius in.
His eyes looked almost pure blue in the morning light; there was a faint hint of stubble on his jaw.
“Morning.” The muscles of his chest moved as he leaned over and kissed Remus.
Long, slow, deep.
He smelled of sleep and a warm smell that was just Sirius.
Remus felt himself falling.
“That . . . is such a nice way to wake up,” Remus murmured when the kiss ended.
Sirius stroked his cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Not as nice as just waking up and seeing you there, lying beside me. I thought for a second I must be dreaming.”
“Was it a nice dream?” Remus asked.
He couldn’t stop smiling.
Sirius grinned; his dark hair was rumpled from sleep. “Oh, yes. It was a very, very nice dream.”
They kissed again.
It grew deeper; Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus, drawing him close against him.
His back was smooth and warm.
Remus ran his hands over it as they kissed, loving the feel of Sirius's skin, and almost went faint as his lips moved briefly to Remus's neck and then found his mouth again.
In Remus's entire life, nothing had ever felt as good as Sirius kissing him like that.
When they finally pulled apart, both their hearts were pounding.
Remus cleared his throat, skimming his fingers along Sirius's forearm. “Sirius, you, um . . . you know that I’ve never —”
“I know,” he broke in softly.
He reached for Remus's hand, linking their fingers. “Remus, it’s OK. We’ll do whatever you want. I just want to be with you; I don’t care.”
And Remus had known that he would say that, but it was still good to hear it.
Remus let out a breath.
“Kissing like that is so — amazing,” he said. “Maybe I could just get used to that for a while.”
“Yeah, OK.”
Propping himself on his elbow again, Sirius gazed down at him.
He touched Remus's hair, toying with a curled strand.
“You know, just — being here with you, having you here beside me — it’s incredible. When you’re ready for something more, then great, but I really don’t mind.”
Love for him rushed through Remus.
“It’s incredible for me, too,” he whispered.
Sirius smiled and tickled Remus's face with the strand of hair. “And anyway, this means that we get lots of kissing practice, right? So you can get used to it?”
The thought sent warm shivers through Remus. “Oh, definitely.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
He kissed Remus lightly and they lay smiling at each other, with the sleeping bag soft around hem and the sound of birdsong outside.
Sunshine angled in through faint cracks in the cabin wall.
“So what do you want to do today?” said Sirius after a while.
“Be with you,” Remus said promptly.
Sirius waggled his eyebrows at Remus. “Yeah, as if you’ve got a choice.”
“Even if I had a choice, that’s what I’d choose.” Remus stroked his hand across Sirius's chest, savoring the feel of his heartbeat under his fingers. “That’s what I’d always choose.”
It was so peaceful up at the cabin, with only the mountains and the sky, and the occasional wheeling hawk for company.
As the days passed, Sirius and Remus spent so much time just talking — it felt as if there weren’t enough hours in the day for all that they wanted to say to each other, all that they wanted to discover.
They both knew that they couldn’t stay up there forever, but Remus thought they both wanted to believe that they could — that there weren’t any angels in the world, any Church of Angels fanatics who were trying to kill them.
And sometimes Remus could actually forget all of that.
Sleeping in Sirius's arms at night felt so warm and safe; waking up beside him was like a sunrise inside of Remus every morning.
He was so easy to live with.
They just got along, on the most minor things, like how often they wanted to clean (which was every couple of days or so, when the mess in the cabin started driving them crazy), and who was going to do which chore.
Not that there were that many of them.
Mostly Remus cooked — which was just heating up cans — and Sirius cleared up afterward.
Then there was kissing him, touching him, being touched by him.
Simply being near Sirius was enough to make Remus's pulse shoot up.
It was funny, because all of that made him feel so totally human: Sirius's hands warm on his skin, the heat of their mouths together, so that Remus was plummeting, soaring — what could be more human than that?
But that moment in the desert when the truth finally hit him had blasted away any tiny thoughts he might have had about this angel thing being a mistake.
No matter how human he felt when he was with Sirius, he wasn’t.
It wasn’t two boys; it was a boy with something half human.
The thought made Remus feel so wistful sometimes, like gazing out through a rain-streaked window.
It was if something he had never fully appreciated before was now gone forever.
Knowing that he was only half human meant that he couldn’t even wonder about a future with Sirius, not really.
For whatever this thing was inside of Remus, it meant that he might be the one to destroy the angels . . . and that they wanted him dead.
How much time did either Sirius or him actually have?
Remus hated thinking about all of this; he wanted it just to go away, forever.
Sirius seemed to sense that it wasn’t Remus's favorite subject.
Mostly they didn’t talk about it very much; they just savored being together.
They went for long walks; they spent a whole afternoon having leaf-boat races in the stream; another one checking out the prospector’s device behind the cabin.
It worked by dumping silt from the stream into a cradle and then filtering it out — you could still see where whoever had originally lived there had dug big chunks out of the bank in places, searching for gold.
“I wonder if he ever found any,” Remus mused, touching one of the cradle’s legs.
It was half rotting, its wood a soft gray.
Sirius was crouched on his haunches, examining the rusty screen that the silt sifted through.
“It’d really be too bad if he didn’t, after going to so much trouble.”
Then he glanced up at Remus, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, how come we’re both calling him ‘he’? It could have been a girl prospector.”
Remus laughed. “I guess you’re right. God, I never thought I’d be sexist.”
He shook his head. “You’d better be careful about that. They’ll kick you out of the gay club if they find out.”
“You won’t tell them, will you?”
“Hmm, let me see. . . .”
Standing up, Sirius brushed his hands off on his jeans, shooting Remus a considering glance. “How much is my silence worth to you?”
Remus twined his arms around Sirius's neck, pulling him down so Remus could peck his cheek. “There, is that enough?” He asked innocently.
“Ha. In your dreams.”
Sirius drew Remus back to him with a grin.
As his lips met Remus's, Remus could hear the trickling of the stream and the faint, faraway cry of a hawk.
When they finally pulled apart, Sirius looked at the cradle and laughed.
"You know, it was probably some grizzled old guy with a beard who chewed tobacco and smelled bad.”
Remus had his arms around Sirius's waist, smiling as Remus looked up at him.
Being with Sirius made him so completely happy, in an easy, uncomplicated way that he hadn’t felt since he was a small child.
“I love you,” Remus said.
In the five days they'd been there, it was the first time he'd said the words to Sirius in English; they just slipped out.
Sirius's expression went very still as he looked down at Remus, his dark hair stirred by the slight breeze.
Remus picked up a sudden wave of his emotions, and they almost brought tears to his eyes.
Gently, Sirius took Remus's face in his hands and kissed him.
“I love you, too,” he said against Remus's lips.