Afterparty Panic
The common room was too crowded. It really must have been some sort of safety hazard. Luckily, Remus was already quite drunk and the noise and lights and horrendous smells were all fading together into a nearly pleasant atmosphere. Unluckily, he was nearing a more emotional and honest state of drunkenness, and was about one drink away from divulging all his secrets to whoever happened to stumble past his chair. He was trying not to drink more, but the drunk part of his brain was fighting him on that.
His friends had wandered off at some point, when they inevitably got bored of sitting there with him. The energetic, wonderful, gits. He loved them, he really did, but they were hard to keep up with. Especially since they were all regular, spritely teenagers, and he felt like a seventy year old man with achy bones and a constant illness. Not to mention the fact that he’d definitely been binding for too long, and he couldn’t quite breathe properly.
So he sat, enjoying the atmosphere and making a deal with himself that he’d only have another drink if one happened to appear. He definitely wasn’t trying to summon one, not at all. That would be dangerous.
“Are you ok?”
Remus focused his eyes in front of him, and saw Sirius standing, unsteadily, with two drinks in his hands. Miraculous.
Remus nodded, reaching for one of the drinks as Sirius sat on the floor by his feet, nearly falling in the process.
“I was trying to summon another drink. Seems it worked.”
Sirius giggled. “How lucky. I could tell you needed it. Looked like you were sulking.”
“I wasn’t sulking.”
“Mhm.” Sirius leaned his head against Remus’ legs. “What were you sulking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Remus.”
Merlin, Remus loved it when people said his name. Maybe especially when Sirius said it, but that was irrelevant. Except it meant he was obviously going to give in and tell him whatever he wanted to know.
“I just wish I could do things with the rest of you. You’re all socializing and having fun and I’m just sitting here.”
Sirius hauled himself off the floor, using the chair to maintain relative balance. “Why can’t you? You’re allowed to have fun. Look, James is doing his stupid dance again. Come dance with us.” He tried to pull Remus out of the chair.
Remus didn’t budge. He didn’t know why Sirius even tried; he was clearly stronger, and Sirius was a flimsy drunk.
“It’s not that I don’t want to.” Remus explained, annoyed that Sirius didn’t understand and even more annoyed that he’d expected him to. “I’m tired, Sirius. And my chest hurts.”
Sirius eyed him suspiciously, and Remus knew he’d made a mistake. Sirius in concerned-mode was relentless.
“Upstairs.” Sirius demanded, trying feebly again to make Remus stand up.
“I’m fine. Stop it. Fucking Hell, you smell like witch’s brew.”
“You’re not fine. You can stay here sulking and hurting yourself, which isn’t actually an option, or you can come upstairs and we can eat sweets and hide sharp things in James’ bed.”
It was such a childish offer, but it did sound nice. And it was so sweet that Sirius cared, and Remus was feeling more emotional just as he’d known he would. People cared about him, how fucking lovely was that? Besides, he really couldn’t breathe.
The stairs were a challenge for both of them. Remus kept his balance well enough, but he was gasping for air by the time they reached the top, and Sirius had to resort to crawling up, flimsy drunk that he was.
Once safely in their dorm, Remus sat on the floor and pulled his shirt off. Sirius saw him without clothes every full moon anyway, and none of them were particularly shy in the dorm. Changing in the shared bathrooms was too risky for Remus. He clipped his bandages together in the back, and usually he could undo them without too much effort, but at the moment he struggled. His arms felt too heavy, his fingers shaky and useless. He couldn’t breathe well, and the panic of not being able to breathe was only making it worse. After his fifth failed attempt, he gave up, hissing in frustration and desperately trying to take deep breaths. Why had he been so stupid? He refused to cry, but he was drunk, panicked, and in pain and he couldn’t help it, and then he was crying.
“Oh fuck, what’s wrong?” Sirius asked, from where he’d been digging through their dressers.
“Can’t get the bandages off.”
“Alright, it’s ok. That’s ok. Can I do it?”
Remus nodded, trying to calm his sobs. “I can do the rest, if you just unclip it.“
Sirius wasn’t particularly quick about it either, but he managed and handed Remus the end of the bandage so he could unwrap it. The relief was immediate.
Once the bandages were off, Remus focused on taking deep breaths. Until he realized Sirius was staring at him.
Remus cleared his throat, and Sirius seemed to realize what he’d been doing. “Here” he offered, holding out a shirt. It was Peter’s, but that hardly mattered. Remus loved how much they all shared. Once Remus was dressed, they sat together, leaned against James’ bed frame. Sirius was still looking at him oddly.
“What?” Remus finally asked. His head was swimming. He was tired.
“I’m worried about you.”
“Sorry, I’m fine now. Thanks for helping. You can go back to the party if you want.”
“You’re not fine. You’re all fucking bruised, and you could hardly breathe two minutes ago.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “That’s just how this works. It was dumb, getting too drunk to take it off. But whatever, I want to have fun sometimes.”
“Someone must have made something gentler. It’s hurting you.” Sirius insisted. Full on concerned-mode, just as Remus had expected.
“I don’t know. No one talks about it. “
“They should.”
“Yeah, well.” Remus sighed.
“I promised you sweets, didn’t I?” Sirius laughed after a few minutes. He stumbled to the other side of the room, dug through his trunk and pulled out two chocolate frog packets. He sat back down and handed one to Remus.
“Thanks.” Remus murmured. “But you don’t have to stay up here with me. I know you were having fun.”
Sirius bit into his chocolate frog, throwing the card vaguely in the direction of Peter’s bed. Peter still collected them.
“I’m still having fun.”
“No you’re not.”
“Shut up, yes I am.”
“Why? I’m a fucking mess.”
“Don’t say stupid things Remus.”
“It’s not stupid if it’s true. All I’ve done tonight is be a miserable mess, and I’ve ruined your night too. And now I’m bloody crying again.” Remus sniffed.
“You haven’t ruined anything. I like spending time with you, obviously.”
“But-“
“Remus, I really like spending time with you. Stop being stupid, ok?”
Sirius was looking at him so intensely, and combined with the name… well Remus would always give in.
“Ok.” He murmured.
“Good. You’re really cool. You need to remember that.”
Remus chuckled softly. ‘Cool’ was definitely not the right word, but he was tired of arguing.
Sirius smiled gently. He looked almost as hazy as Remus felt. He reached across the, rather small, space between them to lightly touch the fabric covering Remus’ ribs. It made Remus feel far too warm.
So quietly, Sirius said “And you have to stop hurting yourself.”
Goodness, Remus still couldn’t catch his breath. “What else am I supposed to do?” He muttered.
“We’ll figure something out.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Thank you.”
Sirius nodded. He moved his hand to the hem of Remus’ borrowed shirt, lifting it up just enough to see the lower bruises. Remus didn’t hate it nearly as much as he’d assumed he would. Not at all. He felt a bit like being sick, but in the best possible way.
“What’re you doing?” He breathed.
“You’re so gorgeous. How can you hate yourself so much?” He was moving closer, and Remus was very, very warm.
“Sirius?“
“Hmm?”
“I don’t understand what you’re doing.”
“Do you not like it?”
Remus closed his eyes. How was this happening? “No, I definitely like it.”
“Good.”
And Sirius kissed him. Remus leaned into it as much as he could. It felt… electric. Like a lightning storm and a tsunami combined in his stomach. It felt good to be so close to someone. So comfortable. Sirius bit his lips gently, and Remus had never felt something quite so wonderful.
They pulled apart eventually, but Sirius left his hands comfortingly on Remus’ back.
“How’re you feeling?” Sirius asked, smirking slightly.
Remus let his head rest against Sirius’ neck, not wanting to leave the warmth. “Better” he murmured.
That was true. For once in his life, the pleasant feelings in his body outweighed the bad. He wouldn’t mind getting used to that.