Hot Sauce Shots
I don’t love me anymore
I kill myself every day a little more
And I need you now like I needed you then
I don’t love me, so I can’t love you in the end.
Sirius watched his thumbs go round and round, chasing each other, locked in a never ending cycle just as he was, destined never to find–
“Black!” Came the sharp reprimand. Sirius bolted upright out of his chair behind the stage’s curtain at his professor’s stern voice.
She was still pissed at his tardiness this morning, it seemed. He jogged out onto the stage where the class’s art projects were set up, his head swivelling to catch a glimpse of his silver-haired teacher between the easels. He found her near the other side, sipping on a cup of the coffee he brought her this morning as an apology.
“There’s about five or so minutes left until the doors will be opened and the guests will start arriving. Take this time, use it wisely, go get a drink of water, a snack, go use the loo, whatever you need to, because for the next two hours you will be locked in this room with the rest of us and the guests. And no sneaking out this time.” McGonagall’s amber gaze slid over from the painting she was examining to bore into Sirius.
“Yes, ma’am.” Sirius gulped slightly. He couldn’t help it, even after almost three years she still made him nervous. “Would you like me to fetch anything for you?” He asks politely, but McGonagall only shakes her head, and he gives her a nod before exiting the display room.
Several classes must’ve just been let out at once, because the hallways are crowded with students going every which way, and when Sirius slips into the crowd he accidentally bumps his shoulder into one of the students rushing in the opposite direction.
“Sorry!” He calls, but the student has already disappeared into the throng in a whirl of long limbs and sandy-brown curls. Sirius shrugs and heads to the cafeteria to buy a snack of some kind, since he skipped out on breakfast to get to the college on time.
He ends up with a turkey sandwich and a cup of iced coffee, and chokes the bland sandwich down as he walks back to the art display gallery. The ice clinks comfortingly in the coffee cup, and even though Sirius knows the coffee will make his hands shake later, he sighs in relief as the caffeine hits his system and his head begins to clear.
He could really go for a cigarette, the nervousness in his bones already entering his bloodstream, but he doesn’t have enough time. The hallways have already mostly thinned out, but Sirius is stopped dead in his tracks at the flash of black hair, a sharp jawline, a lithe frame. For a second, he sees his brother hurrying down the hall, but he blinks and the boy has disappeared. Sirius shakes his head and vows not to sign up for morning classes any more. He’s sure the lack of sleep is causing his brain to hallucinate.
~.~
It’s only an hour into the art exhibition, and Sirius is wondering why he ever took this class.
Sure, credentials or whatever, but it’s honestly soul-crushing to smile at person after person who walk up and scrutinise the piece of his soul Sirius lays out in front of them.
It’s a simple art piece, and no passerby would be able to tell just how many hours he had sat and cried over this painting. It’s mostly an old image his photo memory kept dragging to the forefront of his mind, of the woods behind Grimmauld Place. When McGonagall first assigned them this project he had an entirely different piece he was painting, but after he had woken up several nights in a row with his brother’s name lodged in his throat and the feel of the tree branch across his spine as his mother’s cruel hand raised up again and again, he knew he would have to paint it.
“Thank you so much for coming!” He greeted another student entering the classroom-converted-gallery. He had no idea why McGonagall had put him on door duty. At least they were halfway through the presentation, only an hour more to go.
“Welcome in, thank you for coming!” He greeted the next stern-faced professor entering the room. She gave him a terse nod, eyes already flitting around the paintings. Sirius’ gaze returned to his own, standing just an arm’s reach away from him.
He studied the trees once again, the shadows that looked like two boys running. He could hear laughter ringing in his ears. The classroom suddenly gets stuffy, he’s choking the air down his throat and his hands begin to shake. Sirius needs to get out.
~.~
“Hello. You’re in my spot.” Remus glares down at the small boy in his seat.
The sunlight filters in through the window, illuminating the desk in the fourth row. It’s a nice seat, which is why Remus had chosen to sit there every class.
The criminal in his chair raises a head of black curls to frown up at him. “There’s no assigned seating chart. I can sit wherever I want.”
Remus scoffs, shaking his head at the audacity. “Yeah, but if you’d shown up to class the first few weeks you’d know that I sit here every time, that desk basically has my name on it.” He saw a spot of colour appear on the boy’s cheeks, but he didn’t reply. “Exactly.” Remus nodded. “Get out of my seat.”
“Make me.” Comes the heated reply, and when Remus moves to grab him by the arm and haul him out of the seat, a hand comes up and the boy says, “Touch me and I will report you for assault.”
Remus stills, and the boy cocks his head, as if challenging him to do it. Remus huffs in annoyance and slams his books down on the seat next to the boy, making one of the girls in the front row jump. “There. Now you’ll have to deal with me for the rest of class.” He sits down harshly in the chair.
The boy hums, looking thoughtful. “Maybe, but you’ll also have to deal with me.” And Remus has to fight not to smile at the stupid joke. He brings his phone up to his face. “Siri, remind me to kill….” He glances at the stranger, who stares silently back. “... My seat neighbour next class.” When the phone pings and the voice of his virtual assistant comes through, “Setting a reminder to kill your seat neighbour on Thursday”, Remus pointedly does not glance again at the boy sitting to his right.
At that moment, the door opens and the professor bustles in. He is a relatively short man, (Remus, who is 6 '3, found this hilarious on the first day of class), so the stepladder by the side of the whiteboard comes in handy when he reaches up to write the lesson name at the top of the board.
“Alright, class, now that we’ve gotten through the introductory part of this course we can begin to dive into the law and justice system of Britain. Today we will be starting on the rights of each person, or the Amendments. Before we begin, however, I would like to introduce a new student to the class. Regulus Black, would you please stand up?” The professor looked around the classroom, his face breaking into a smile when the boy next to Remus stood up, his face flushed and looking like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.
“Mr. Black was travelling in France on an internship with an MI6 agent from our very own London, which caused him to be late for this semester’s start. We are very pleased to have you in this class, Mr. Black. You may call me Professor Flitwick.” The short professor turned back to the board, drafting out the day’s lesson plan.
“Sounds like a shitty summer vacation.” Remus whispered, and the boy, Regulus, glared down at his desk.
“Please be quiet, I can’t hear myself losing the will to live.” He whispered in response, and Remus snorted, clapping a hand over his mouth in an effort to hold back his laughter. Regulus looked up, startled. “It wasn’t a joke. I’m seriously calculating whether or not I would injure myself enough to get out of this class if I threw my desk out that window and followed suit.”
Remus is really struggling to breathe now, clamping his mouth shut and pinching his nose in an effort not to burst out laughing.
Regulus frowns at him. “Are you okay?”
Remus finally manages to compose himself enough to shake his head in response. “No. How am I finding you funny when I literally have a reminder on my phone to kill you later this week?”
Regulus shrugs at his words. “Guess you just have unfunny friends.” Remus smiles at him.
“Will you join?” When Regulus cocks his head in a question Remus clarifies, “Join my circle of people I consider friends. I could use some that are funny.”
Regulus looks away for a moment. “If I’m not dead by the end of Thursday I’ll think about it.” The corners of his lips curl up in a smirk, and Remus returns it.
“Truce, then? For now.” He holds out his hand, and Regulus accepts.
“Truce.” He agrees.
~.~
When Sirius gets home there’s nothing to do other than recover from the emotionally, mentally, and physically draining art exhibition he just had to participate in. He gets the painting home safely, and as he sets it back on the easel in his living room there’s a strong urge to set it on fire.
He goes to bed instead, to catch up on the sleep he missed last night and this morning.
When he wakes sometime in the late afternoon he was tempted to go right back to sleep, but decided not to, stretching languidly like a cat and rolling over to grab his phone. The home screen showed no new messages, but the clock read half past five. He typed in the passcode and swiped to his contacts screen.
He waits three rings before a familiar voice came through.
“Sup Pads.”
“James.” Sirius rolled over onto his back. “What do you say to a night out? I wanna get roaring drunk.”
There was a small pause, then a sigh. “Sirius, it’s 6 p.m. on a Monday.”
Sirius snorted. “Obviously not right now. I need at least two hours to get ready.”
“Pads, I’ve got work tomorrow.”
“I don’t.”
He heard James exhale loudly, and could picture his best friend pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Fine. Fine! I’ll come with you. But I’m not drinking, and I’m not staying out past midnight.” James grumbled.
Sirius grinned, but switched his tone to sound like he was pouting. “I’m bringing Marlene then. At least she’ll be fun.”
“You do you. Call me when you’re ready.”
James hung up the phone, and Sirius flipped through his contacts list once more. This time he only had to wait one ring before the familiar voice came through.
“Sirius!”
“Hey, Marls! Me and James are going out tonight, you’re coming too.” He states firmly.
“Alright.” He could hear the smile on her face.
“I’ll see you at our regular place then, in two and a half hours.” Sirius smiled as Marlene chirped “Sounds like a plan!” And he hung up the phone.
He lay on his back, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars James had stuck up as a joke a while back, then finally dragged himself out of the bed to get ready.
Three hours later Sirius threw back his fourth shot of the night. He wasn’t sufficiently drunk yet but the buzz was starting to set into his head.
The bar in Soho that their friend group frequented wasn’t packed on a Monday night but there were just enough people for the atmosphere to be upheld.
Marlene ended up bringing Dorcas along, and Sirius signals to one of the waiters for another round for the three of them. James is idly stirring his straw in his glass, which only has Sprite and a slice of lemon. Sirius is seriously considering pouring a shot of vodka in while James isn’t looking. The speakers are blasting some sort of song Sirius doesn’t recognise, but as another one starts the familiar beat of Love Game by Lady Gaga comes on, and Marlene makes a noise like a gasp and a squeal.
“Sirius! Sirius come dance with me. I love this song!” She exclaims, trying to drag Sirius from his chair.
“Wouldn’t you rather dance with your girlfriend?” He tries to dissuade her, but Dorcas is the one who shakes her head.
“I, unlike my dearest Marlene, cannot stand this song.” There is a fond smile in the corner of her mouth as she gazes up at her girlfriend.
“Come on, Sirius! I’ll buy you a drink afterwards.” Marlene pleads, tugging on his arm. Sirius, never one to turn down free drinks, finally gives in.
“Fine. Just one dance, though.”
It was not one dance. Sirius isn’t sure how many it was. Payphone by Maroon 5, Quarter Past Midnight by Bastille, Rude Boy by Rihanna. A few more Sirius can’t remember, or doesn’t know.
He’s been handed several more drinks, and the room is swaying along with his hips. Marlene finally gives up, panting for breath and wiping sweat from her forehead as she sits down next to her girlfriend. James tries to motion for Sirius to come back too, but Sirius has noticed a bloke staring at him from across the floor and closes his eyes, letting his body succumb to the magic of the music.
He’s always loved music, loved the way it settled into his soul, his bones, his very being. The song is over too soon, but when he opens his eyes he finds the attractive man standing in front of him, two drinks in hand. He gives a small smile.
“I’m Alec. Drink?”
“I’m Sirius.” Sirius accepts the drink, taking a sip. Something fruity and definitely alcoholic.
“I was watching you.” Alec begins. Sirius raises a brow.
“I saw you watching me.” He replies, smirking slightly as the other man blushes.
“Yes, well. You’re… attractive.” Alec manages to stutter out. Sirius laughs, taking him by the wrist and leading him to the bar. “You’re clearly not drunk enough for this conversation.”
Four drinks and one shot later they’re making out against the far wall. As Alec’s hands make their way down to Sirius’ belt buckle he stops him. “Not here. Wanna come back to mine?” He asks, his voice coming out all breathy and high. Alec bites his lip, then nods.
His arm stays around Sirius’ shoulders as they stumble over to Sirius’ friends. “I’m going back home.” Sirius tells James, no goodbye or hello necessary. “Can you make sure those two make it back alright?” He jerks his chin over to Dorcas and Marlene, who are having a competition to see who can get their tongue farther down the other’s throat.
James nods, raising two fingers to his brow to salute Sirius. Outside, Sirius hails a cab as he came with James while Alec begins pressing soft kisses to his neck. Sirius has to stifle the small whimpers making their way up his throat, and the ride back to his apartment seems to take forever.
When they make it up to the fifth-floor corridor and Sirius finally manages to get his door unlocked and they stumble into the apartment they’re all over each other. Alec kicks the door shut, neither of them bothering to lock it as Sirius drags him to the bedroom. Then they’re losing their clothes, and it’s a blur of euphoria and strangled moans from there.
~.~
Remus is seriously considering punching a hole in the wall and just throttling whoever is making so much noise.
The headboard hitting the wall rhythmically and the other noises were just getting on his nerves. Remus wasn’t a prude, but he was just trying to sleep, goddamnit!
As he stuffed his pillow over his head he was suddenly hit with an idea so good he sat up, looked around and whispered “I’m a genius…” to the empty, dark room. He pushed back the covers, hopping out of bed and turning on his speaker.
Once it connected to his phone, he made sure the volume was all the way up, before opening his music app on his phone. He lay back into bed, a shit-eating grin on his face as the speaker on his nightstand began to blare a song. “Let’s go back to that summer night, when we met eyes it’s like a movie line,” and the headboard stops slamming against the wall.
He thinks he hears someone exclaim what the fuck?! on the other side of the wall. “But when you look in his eyes, do you think of mine? And when you look at that smile, do I cross your mind?” The song continues, and Remus has to stifle a laugh of triumph at the blissful silence in the other room.
He flips through his library as
Lookalike draws to a close, and puts on you broke me first. After that one, he plays idfc for good measure, and then shuts off his phone and falls to sleep in blissful silence.