Chaotic and Stupid
Dorcas ignored Sirius for the rest of their shift, sending him withering glared his way frequently. Yeah, Sirius deserved that.
By the time their shift was over and they’d closed the shop, Dorcas continued cleaning whilst Sirius stood awkwardly by the cakes waiting for his lift. Dorcas looked near bursting, the girl had a lot of opinions and Dorcas knew it must be killing her not to be telling Sirius. All of them. Loudly and aggressively.
After slamming a chair down so aggressively Sirius worried for his neck, he finally spoke. “Come on, Meadowes,” he goaded, “Don’t bottle up all those emotions, it’s not healthy.”
Dorcas storms towards him, pointing a finger at him and eyes narrowed in fury. Well, shit.
“Ah! Dorcas!” Well thank fuck for James Potter. “Dorcas, Love of my life, why do you look as though you are about to kill Sirius?” James was a flamboyant man, him and Sirius sharing a personality trait in the dramatics.
“Because I am.”
James chuckled, “Okay crazy lady, not that I blame you, I get the urge often - but why?”
“Because,” she fumes (Sirius swears there’s smoke coming out her ears), “Sirius is a dick! He was an absolute prat to one of our customers - ”
“I presume you mean Remus Lupin?”
“Yeah, Remus Lupin. Who, for your information, Black, is a fucking delight. He’s lovely, and he’s kind. He’s one of my girlfriend’s closest friends, and I love him. And I don’t appreciate you treating him like that,” she paused to breathe, “especially, Sirius Black, considering that even though you treat him like shite, he’s still a fucking delight.”
James grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, Dorcas. I think Sirius here knows exactly how lovely, and kind and delightful Remus is.”
“James!”
Sirius stood, his face painted a vibrant red from the embarrassment. Perhaps Dorcas didn’t quite understand what James meant, but Sirius fucking well did.
Dorcas’ lip curled into a snark, “He has a funny way of showing it, fucking asshole.”
“Sirius has never been very good with his - emotions.”
“James! Seriously, man, fuck off.” Sirius was now so mortified by James’ words he looked as though he was sporting a particularly bad sunburn.
“Sirius Black, I swear to God,” Dorcas pants in rage, “I don’t care what the fuck your emotions are, wether you love the guy, wether you want to fuck him, or if he’s just another customer, so help me you will be nice to that boy. Or else: I will beat you senseless.”
Sirius gulped, she wasn’t being serious. Probably not. She might be though, she seemed angry enough. Probably best not to risk it.
Sirius could practically taste how smug James was. It was practically emanating off of him. “Shove off, James.” James continued grinning (the smug bastard) but played innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Siri, I didn’t say anything.”
“Not right now, you didn’t have to,” Sirius growled, “Besides, I think you safe enough back at the cafe.”
“Look Sirius,” James sighs, “Dorcas was right. You are being a dick to the guy. Not in a ‘Sirius Black’ way, but in a downright proper dickhead way. I’ve never met the guy, and I can tell he’s lovely.”
Sirius groaned, he hated that James was right. He was being a right dick to the guy. The prettiest guys Sirius has ever met, if that’s worth mentioned.
Remus Lupin has soft features, his face is covered with the thin white lines of fading scars. He has warm eyes, kind and soulful. Golden Brown curls he seems to do nothing about, yet he looks fantastic. Sirius has it bad for the boy. And all of his large, oversized jumpers.
“I regret telling you about him and my emotions.”
“I don’t,” James says, laughter lines appearing by his eyes.
“I was drunk,” Sirius groans, “like out of my mind drunk that night. It wasn’t fair!”
“Shut up Sirius, you sound six years old.”
~*~
Remus Lupin wasn’t poor. Well, he was. But he lived in a constant state of Denial. He tended to work extra shifts whenever he could, he lived in a dump. It was an apartment lot, well in need of a good paint job. The wallpaper was ripped and falling off the wall. His lock was unreliable, another thing that caused Remus Lupin anxiety. He had a small kitchen, a broken freezer and no heat.
That was fun. To get from work to home, Remus had to take a bus, then another, then a train and then another bus. Then a ten minute walk. He spent the nights at home, and was rarely there at any other point in time.
He flung his keys on to the table by his door and forced the lock shut. He showered and changed and went to bed. He read, and then slept. He dreamt, and then woke.
The sun streamed in through the open window, and not in a cutesy way that starts if every 90s rom-com, but in the way where Remus can’t afford curtains and the sun rises before six o’clock.
He dresses in a casual shirt and jeans, and leaves his house. He can’t remember if he locked the door, he doesn’t care, there’s not much in there worth it. If anyone came knocking at his door looking for money Remus would probably laugh in their faces, then point him to the guy next door. He sold drugs, lived in a constant state of being stoned, and was loaded. He operated on a system of spending more days and nights down at the crack den than actually at his house. Remus liked him.
He feels like shit, so he gets a coffee. It was £3.40. Daylight robbery.
He gets to work before any of the girls and opens the shop, setting up and twisting the typical sign on the door, changing it from ‘closed’ to ‘open’.
It was just another fucking day.