Despite the blankets, despite the layers of sweaters, and despite the warm body wrapped snugly around him, he felt the cold in his bones, icy seeds implanting their icicle roots into the very marrow. It was nary a novel feeling or a welcomed feeling, this deep-seated permafrost. Even after fourteen years with a blizzard raring underneath his skin, he would never get used to it. Nonetheless, he had to; or, rather, pretend like he did. The piteous glances had long since melted away into the background, like some form of cruel habituation, but he still noticed the concerned looks periodically. There was nothing he loathed more than pity. He was a grown man, not a puppy tossed uncaringly into a busy street.
He shivered, teeth clacking loudly. It seemed to echo in the dark room, the peachy glow of dawn barely penetrating the thick curtains. He knew it was futile to try to regain some warmth but try he did, squirming underneath the covers. A content yet sleepy sigh blew warm air onto his ear, the thick arms around his torso stirring and tightening their embrace around his torso. Even though he knew he wasn't in danger, nor did anything wrong, Sirius stiffened. Pale blue eyes strained their periphery to look over his shoulder. The man couldn't help but jump at the sight of green eyes staring back at him, irises almost glowing in the dim light.
"You're up early," Remus' voice was always gravelly in the morning. It was one of the few constants he had in his life. Like how Remus always smelled like chocolate and cedar, or how his eyes always lit up at the mention of Harry, or how his dimple showed itself whenever the werewolf was particularly tickled. It had devastated Sirius how much he had forgotten about the constants that Remus conveyed. How the Remus he spent remembering in his cell became more and more like a feeling and less and less like a physical being. Since escaping Azkaban, Sirius had made it a goal to commit everything he had forgotten back into memory. It was an easy enough goal, seeing as he saw the man everyday; but it made him sad that he even had to do it.
"Was it a nightmare?" The werewolf prompted when Sirius neglected to answer, hooking his golden chin onto the other's pale shoulder. Nightmares were yet another constant in his life; one that was less than welcomed. They wracked him to the core and wrecked his psyche. He often awoke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, a scream trapped by his cracked lips. He rarely remembered what they were (yet another constant, his lack of memory) but they left him empty. Cold. Sirius loathed how much they affected him; how he was oftentimes afraid to close his eyes, worried for the monsters to tear him apart. Remus said they didn't define him. That they didn't make him a coward, or childish, or a failure. Sometimes, he found himself believing it. Other times...
He shook his head, breathing cold air out of his nose, "No. Not a nightmare," Sirius replied truthfully, turning in Remus' embrace, pale blue peering through a canopy of black to land on green. He shivered again, eyes falling closed, "Just cold."
"Cold," Remus hummed, as if that one word explained all their problems. Sirius felt rather than saw nimble fingers brush back soft, black fringe, the other man's plush lips gently kissing the cold flesh of his forehead, "Manageable cold or stay-in-bed-all-day cold?"
The pureblood exhaled softly, half amused and half content, “I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t handle it today,” Sirius replied, pale arms snaking themselves around Remus’ torso as he snuggled closer, forehead resting on the taller man’s warm chest, “But staying in bed with you sounds much more enjoyable.”
“Then we’ll stay,” Remus said almost immediately, chin resting comfortably on the black ocean that was Sirius’ hair. It had come loose from the topknot he had gone to bed with, ebony waves tumbling over his shoulders. Sirius heard the werewolf compliment his hair often enough for him to almost believe them, “Until you’re not so cold anymore.”
“Are you prepared to stay here for a week?” He replied, a faux challenge. The chuckle that rumbled against Sirius’ head was almost enough to massage away the tension that had made itself a permanent residence on his brow. Again, soft lips kissed at his head, eliciting a content sigh to leave Sirius’ nose.
“I’m prepared to stay here for a lifetime,” Remus confessed with utmost compassion. Sirius still wondered how he had so much love to give, after fourteen years without a place to put it. After nearly twenty years since Sirius lost that privilege.
Sirius hummed, nuzzling deeper. If he could crawl within Remus’ skin, he would. Just take up space in the warm expanse, enveloped by one of the last things that connect him to a happier, warmer time, “You’re too good to me.”
And Remus Lupin really was. Where Sirius was a fragment composed of terror, and ice, and bad, Remus was a whole composed of tranquility, and fire, and good. Where Sirius only left despair in his wake, purposely or accidentally, Remus left support. Sirius often questioned why Remus bothered with him, after what he did. He didn’t deserve it and he never would. Sirius knew he was on borrowed time, that Remus only had so much sympathy to give, so much stamina to use. But he was selfish and wanted it all, to take and take and take until they tired of each other. It was only a matter of time to see who cracked first; Sirius with his guilty conscience or Remus finally realizing the pureblood was a lost cause.
“I’m good to you because I love you,” The werewolf responded, only slightly exasperated. Remus had said he wouldn’t stop confessing his love until Sirius believed it without questioning it. Half of Sirius hoped he never did, just so Remus could keep on saying it forever, “And love makes people leap through fire.”
“When have I made you leap through fire?” Sirius asked with a roll of his eyes. Remus just smirked in return, tightening his hold around the other man’s waist and rolling Sirius to his back. Sirius’ hands rose to cup the werewolf’s cheeks, his scarred face hovering mere centimeters above Sirius’ own.
“I’m sure it’ll happen at some point,” The former professor teased, before he closed the distance. The kiss was a tender thing, the complete opposite of the heated advances that often left both their lips red and swollen. Sirius liked this kind the most, the kisses shared in moments of tranquility, of peace, and life. It was like a breath of fresh air, these tender little things, sustaining Sirius far more than water or food or oxygen could ever provide.
His thumbs rubbed circles into the rough golden skin held so preciously in his grasp, eyes fluttering closed as Remus flooded his entire being. He didn’t care that the other man had morning breath, or that the overstretched collar of his t-shirt was falling down a sunny shoulder, or that his endearingly ridiculous little mustache was tickling the very bottom of his nose. All Sirius cared about was Remus’ soft lips pressing into his dried lips, his warm hand caressing his cold cheek, and his auburn curls melding with his obsidian fringe.
Remus pulled away much too soon for Sirius’ taste, the latter’s blue eyes flickering open to see what could possibly interrupt such a moment. He wasn’t expecting the utter devotion the werewolf’s green eyes held, swirling with desire and love. A rough thumb traced the line of his lips, Remus nuzzling into the junction where shoulder met neck. Sirius could feel the pull of air as the werewolf inhaled almost reverently, like he was the loveliest scent in the world.
“I love you, Sirius,” He mumbled into his pearlescent skin, lips tickling at black tattoos. It was almost enough to make Sirius believe it.
“I love you too,” He whispered.
Despite the ever present cold in his bones, despite the shadows of his mind, and despite the doubts that he deserved any of this, Sirius felt the warmth in his heart, the warm tendrils melting built up frost.