Spain & Portugal
Remus wakes up on the twentieth of July at seven in the morning to an empty cold bed. Panic rises in his chest right away as he opens his eyes and finds the side of the bed Sirius laid in last night as Remus fell asleep completely empty, with the sheets ruffled. He sits up, tries to call Sirius’ name, but his throat feels weird, so he tries again. He calls his name once, then twice, to no avail.
Oh, no.
Remus immediately thinks that Sirius left again, and this time, judging by how cold the sheets are, he’ll be too far already for Remus to find. Remus stands up and runs to the bathroom, and his last shred of hope leaves his body has he finds it empty, just like the bed. He hurries back in the bathroom, even opens the broom closet as if there was even a slight reason for Sirius to be there, and when he’s torn the room upside down in his frantic search for Sirius, he finally remembers that he owns a phone. He grabs it and goes to compose Sirius’ number when the door swings open.
Remus turns around so fast he nearly gets whiplash and sees Sirius standing there with a brown paper bag in his hand. Sirius smiles when he sees Remus, but then sees the manic look on his face and frowns.
“What-“ he starts, and is interrupted by Remus.
“You fucking dick!” he shouts, “You promised you wouldn’t leave again!”
“I-I went to get breakfast.” Sirius justifies, “To apologise for yesterday.” He gestures at the brown paper bag.
Remus stands up and fists his hair, “Fuck, I was terrified.” He swears lowly, “Never fucking do that again.”
“Hey, I told you, I’m alright.” Sirius walks over to where Remus is standing and takes a hold of his wrists, gently bringing them down. Now that Remus can see him more closely, he knows that Sirius is lying: he isn’t alright. His eyes are puffy and red, his lips red too and he’s far too pale. He looks like he didn’t close an eye all night. “You don’t need to worry about me leaving again. I promise.” Sirius continues, looking earnestly into Remus’ eyes.
“Did you sleep?” Remus frowns at him. That, somehow, makes Sirius smile.
“No. I tried, but I’m too worried.” He admits in a small voice, “I didn’t expect to fall asleep anyway.” Remus frowns and looks at him, at the worried lines in his face and his desperate grey eyes and takes a step closer to envelop him in his arms. Sirius goes willingly, wraps his own arms around Remus’ back and crowds in closer until no part of them aren’t touching. Remus knows how comforting this is for Sirius, and he’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t comforting for him too. They stay intertwined for a moment, until Sirius draws himself back.
“I swear, Moony, I’m alright. I just need to know if he’s okay.” He shrugs hopelessly.
Remus nods, “Have you tried texting his friends?” he asks, “They might know.”
“I did. I was just talking to James earlier,” He explains, and Remus is glad that they could talk. No one knows or understands Sirius better than James. “He reckons that Regulus might not be answering just to piss me off. I think he’s right.” He nods to himself, “No one pettier than him.”
“He’s a Black.” Remus shrugs, and Sirius cocks an eyebrow.
“Are you saying that I’m petty?” he asks and crosses his arms, still with the paper bag tight in his fist. Remus rolls his eyes and smiles fondly.
“Of course not. When are you going to learn that you’re nothing like them?” he asks, making Sirius look down at his shoes.
“Reggie isn’t like them either.” He mutters, then clears his throat, “So, I got you a gazelle horn. I know you like them.” he smiles at Remus, completely dismissing the subject. Remus doesn’t object and takes the small Moroccan cookie, mumbling his thanks as he eats it entirely right away.
“You and your food.” Sirius rolls his eyes and leaves for the bathroom. One hour and a half later, they’re on a boat in Tanger to cross the Strait of Gibraltar with their friends, on their way to spend yet another ten-day trip in Spain and Portugal.
By some magic otherwise known as skincare and makeup, Sirius manages to make the puffiness in his eyes disappear and the greyness of his tint glow again. Remus has known for a while that Sirius likes to wear makeup, but it’s never this flagrant; he usually just puts a bit of concealer on his blemishes and maybe, on occasion, highlighter to ‘shine as the star he was named after’, as he so brightly puts it, but today, he’s wearing much more than usual. Black crayon contours his eyes, making the grey pop beautifully, and mascara – if Remus isn’t mistaken – makes his eyelashes look so good it makes Remus weak in the knees. He has some other stuff on his face to make him look more ‘human’, is what Sirius says when Remus asks him about it, but Remus can only look at his beautiful grey eyes now adorned with black.
The journey to Spain isn’t long at all; short of forty minutes spent lounging at the front of the small ferry enacting Jack and Rose from Titanic and listening to Celine Dion’s album after much prompting from Pandora (surprisingly). The bus ride to their first stop, Seville, is a little longer, and if anyone is put off by how close Remus and Sirius stick to each other, or by how Remus keeps stealing glances at Sirius, they don’t say anything. No one addresses the events of the night before, the result of, Remus imagines, a warning from James, and he’s thankful for it. He’ll try to keep Sirius happy and distracted as long as he can.
They arrive at Seville just in time for lunch and are quickly met with the difference with Casablanca and Marrakech. You’d imagine that such close cities would look similar; where the architecture of Morocco is more Moorish and open aired, Seville looks much older with architecture that reminds Remus of London; with tall, imposing baroque monuments everywhere. Remus tries a Spanish omelette that does not disappoint and sets off to visit the city with his camera in hand like always, except that this time, Sirius’ hand fills his free one on a few instances.
It's shy and tentative and makes Remus blush far more than he would care to admit, but now that they’re in a queer friendly country and that Sirius is trying to be open around his friends, nothing is stopping them from holding hands. So, they do, whether it be in front of the Acro de la Macarena or inside the Plaza de España, and no one says anything. Remus doesn’t acknowledge it further than a smile because he’s afraid he’ll giggle like a schoolgirl if he opens his mouth, and Sirius simply stares at their intertwined hands silently. Their friends don’t say anything either, although he catches a few covert looks from James and Marlene. Lily simply looks smugly at him, who flips her the bird, making her laugh.
Remus has no idea why he feels this stupid about it, why his heart flutters when Sirius’ thumb brushes against his skin or why he feels like he has to supress a smile all day but gets an idea when he catches Alex’ eye on him during the day and feels giddiness fill up his heart and mind. It’s been a very long time since he’s thought about Alex; if he’s honest, from the moment they separated in that boat in Adelaïde, he’s stopped existing in Remus’ mind. But now, knowing that Alex knows he’s taken makes him smug and happy. He’s possessive, he realises, and that almost makes him laugh. Let everyone know that this beautiful, grey eyed with raven haired guy is Remus’ and Remus’ only.
Oh, because he’s your boyfriend now? A voice in the back of his head says. Remus buries that voice deep down and concentrates back on the feeling of Sirius’ hand on his own while in public. He and Sirius are happy, and that’s all that matters.
They only stay for one night in Seville and amble on the 21st of July in Lisbon, in Portugal. It takes them a four-hour bus ride, which is more time than the flight to go from NYC to Miami took, but Moody says that they have to reduce their carbon imprint, so bus it is. Remus doesn’t mind; it gives him time to edit his pictures, listen to music and cuddle with Sirius.
The ride is, as usual, filled with James’, Marlene’s, Dorcas’ and Sirius’ football chants, to which the entire group eventually joins, even Moody at some point. The Spanish and Portuguese songs that they keep hearing, like Despacito by Luis Fonsi or Shakira’s entire discography bring Remus back to Latin America, in clubs or bars getting drunk with his friends. He missed this; the twenty days they just spent in Africa were amazing, but he hasn’t had mindless, stupid drunk fun with his friends in a while. It might be the slight alcoholic in him speaking, but oh well. He’s missed grindable music.
They reach Lisbon for lunch, again, and tries the national dish, a marinated cod that isn’t Remus’ favourite thing and leaves him unimpressed. Once again, Remus falls in love with the city and fills up his camera roll to the point where his arms hurt from holding it up to his eye all the time. Also, for the first time in months, since Korea, in the middle of July in Lisbon, their group can see and feel the rain. Even for someone who is usually grumpy in the rain, Remus is pleased. It’s a summer rain; still warm and the air still feels warm, but it’s still refreshing, especially for a group of thirty people who have been in the burning sun for more than two months.
“Come on Moony!” James shouts from where he’s standing with Lily, Peter and Sybill in the middle of the street, his now transparent white shirt sticking to his skin, and his hair glued down to his forehead. He’s smiling and dancing to Uma casa portuguesa by Amália Rodrigues, a traditional song playing from a nearby shop. From the corner of his eye, Remus can see Dorcas giggling, running to Lily while Marlene is following her, with her hands outstretched. Mary and Sirius are dancing with Pandora, who gestures for Remus to join them.
“It’s very fun!” she exclaims, “You should come!” she brings her arms above her head, dancing without a care in the world. Remus chuckles, when Sirius detaches himself from Mary to walk over to him.
“You don’t have a choice Moony!” he exclaims, “I’ll bring you in the rain by force if I have to.” He threatens, making Remus tilt his head.
“I’d like to see you try.” He challenges. Sirius raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. When he reaches Remus, he takes his hands and starts to back away, pulling Remus with him. Remus doesn’t let himself be pulled but is nicely surprised when Sirius raises himself up to his tiptoes and whispers in Remus’ ear, “Let me kiss you under the rain. Shock them a little bit.”
Remus chuckles, “Under the rain. Ever the romantic.” He shakes his head and finally relents, lets himself be pulled under the rain. He feels his hair stick to his forehead and droplets fall from his jaw, but doesn’t try to take cover. He simply smiles at Sirius, who is grinning too, staring at Remus with complete awe and adoration, not caring one bit that they’re getting soaked through.
“Can I kiss you then?” Sirius asks again, his gaze shifting from Remus’ eyes to his lips hazily while his arms find their way around Remus’ neck, where Remus think they’ve always belonged. He draws his own hands on Sirius’ waist, and likes to find it as narrow as it would be without any clothing, seeing at how soaked his shirt is. Remus nods, smirking a little, and crosses the gap between them to crash his lips onto Sirius’. It’s very wet and clumsy, it doesn’t last long and ends with both of them grinning against the others lips, but it’s the happiest and most free Remus has ever felt. They separate to laugh nervously, both overcome with the anticipation of kissing in front of their best mates, but kiss again as soon as their laughter subsides. It takes less than a minute for them to be interrupted by the sound of cheers and shouted reactions by their friends, namely James.
“WHAT!” he shouts, staring at them blankly. Sirius and Remus separate, stare at each other with amused looks and stand next to each other, arms still around the other, and face James. “Since when!? How am I JUST learning about this?!”
Sirius laughs, and Remus is quick to join him, “Since we landed in Egypt.” Sirius disclaims and is met with a truly dramatic gasp from James. Almost everyone laughs at his antics, but James doesn’t come down from his shock.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” he exclaims, “I mean, I knew that Remus is head over tits gone for you, but I didn’t know you liked him too!” he thinks out loud, and simultaneously makes Remus want to kick him in the nards. “You should’ve told me!”
“James!” Remus groans, red in the face.
Sirius only grins and pinches Remus’ arm teasingly, “Head over tits, huh?”
“Shut up.” Remus grumbles, making everyone laugh. James smiles.
“That’s your karma.” He tells Remus, “For not telling me.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe this is finally happening!” Peter declares, “I swear to fuck they’ve been dancing around each other since eighth grade.” Remus and Sirius both laugh and deny the allegations, claiming them ridiculous and are both met with incredulous stares from James and Peter.
“You owe me a tenner, McKinnon.” Dorcas grins at her girlfriend.
“Fuck’s sake. I’ll buy your dinner tonight.” She rolls her eyes, a smile at the corner of her mouth.
“You bet on us?” Remus frowns at them.
Marlene smirks, “I told her what you told me on the last night in Brazil. When I slept in your room. I said it would take you guys two more weeks to get together after that. She said it would take less than 72 hours.”
“And I was ri-ight!” Dorcas singsongs and pulls a face at Marlene, who laughs.
“Jokes on you all, I already knew.” Mary announces, smiling smugly at them all, “I guess I’m the most trustworthy out of all of you.”
“YOU DID?” Remus gapes at her, only to be cut off by Lily.
“Me too! Oh, bonkers, we could’ve talked about it!” she tells Mary, and it’s now Sirius’ turn to shout.
“WHAT?” he turns on Remus, who mirrors him.
“Was I the only one who didn’t know?” James asks, defeated.
“You told Mary!” he gestures, pointing at her.
“You-“ he starts, but sighs, “Who cares? I’m with Remus now. Let the word out, he’s taken.” He warns, and Remus would be a liar if he didn’t admit he felt a tinge of satisfaction at that. He grins sheepishly when the storm grumbles in the distance, their cue to leave. They all amble on inside of a pub, chuckling at James’ protests about being the last one to know, and it’s just in time to see the storm absolutely crumble down on the street, wrecking and making flowerpots fly up in the sky.
_________________________
The second day in Lisbon, third of Spain and Portugal is much sunnier than the first, and they’re actually able to visit the city without having to take cover every few minutes to avoid getting struck by lightning. They see the Torre de Belém, the Praça do Comércio and visit the Azulejo National Museum. At the end of the day, Remus’ nose is sunburnt as he flips through his notebook, filled with remarks and notes about each country they’ve been to since the first of May, and he thinks that his thesis is basically writing itself. He’s already decided what he wanted to do; he’s always wanted to be a university international history professor, and a thesis about the worldwide history and how it reflects on every culture around the world would be an amazing start. He’d be sure to get to his goal quite easily, and maybe even get to teach in prestigious universities. That’s what he tells his mother through the phone the next day in their hotel room in Porto after a three-hour car ride.
“Let’s just worry about being a student for now, shall we?” Hope says over the phone, “You’re still set on Cambridge, then? You know you got a scholarship for Oxford too.”
“Yeah, I know.” Remus sighs, “I don’t really know why, but I know I’d be happier in Cambridge than in Oxford. It feels more attractive.”
“I understand. I felt the same way for UAL in my youth.” She says, “Oh, by the way, did you find any of that cheese in Lisbon?” she asks in that pensive way of hers, “’Queijo da Serra da Estrela’. Remus, it is a delicacy. I’ve tried it only once, fifteen years ago, and I still remember it. It’s how good it is.”
Remus smiles, “I found a shop specialised in it. I placed an order for you; I didn’t really feel like travelling through five countries with cheese in my backpack.” he says, making Hope chuckle.
“Thanks for the order. This is exactly why I have kids.” She sighs when Sirius’ voice emerging from the bathroom startles Remus from where he is, lounging on the bed.
“Is your toothbrush the red or blue one?” he asks from afar.
“The red one. Don’t use mine!” Remus shouts back at him, and quickly regrets it.
“Oh, is Sirius around?” Hope inquires, “Can I speak to him? You won’t tell me what you really get up to. Sirius is incapable of lying to me.”
Remus makes a noise of distaste, “Because I’m lying to you?”
“Yes. I refuse to believe you simply take notes about museums when you’re travelling around the world. I didn’t make such a boring son.” Hope says, and Remus can hear her eye roll, “Sirius will tell me the truth.”
“He is incapable of lying to you.” Remus sighs, then calls out, “Pads? My mum wants to talk to you.”
Sirius enters the bedroom with a smile, “Hope asking for me? What do I owe the honour?”
Remus rolls his eyes, “She just thinks I’m a liar.” He lowers his phone and taps on the mute button. “I’m not out. Don’t say anything.” He warns, unmutes the phone and passes it to Sirius. Thankfully, the moment without sound can be confused with Remus simply passing the phone to Sirius, so Hope doesn’t think anything of it, but Sirius definitely does; his jaw hangs slightly and his eyes are wide and shocked as he takes the phone and brings it to his ear. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before using his Sirius Black the Aristocrat voice, as Remus calls it, the voice he uses to charm strangers into giving him special treatment.
“Hope! What a pleasant surprise.” He smiles, a bit too stoically for Remus’ taste. Of course, Remus can only hear half of the conversation, and it’s more irritating that he thought it’d be.
“Oh, you know, we visit the cities, usually have a day off to lounge around or go to the beach every now and then, it’s all very chill… Drugs? No, come on Hope, have a little faith in your son! We’re not like that, now… Well, alcohol isn’t considered a drug, most of the time… You’re right, I apologise, it is a drug, yes… What can I say? We’re eighteen, we’re bound to have a little drink here and there, nothing I’m sure you and Lyall wouldn’t approve of… Yes, of course, with moderation. You know Remus, he’s the responsible one. He takes care of us, yeah…Girls?” he says tightly and chuckles, “Oh, no, see we don’t really have time for that…Yes exactly, we’d rather stay between friends…Remus hasn’t…I’m sure he’ll find someone, no need to worry… he’s rather charming, after all-“
“Mum!” Remus shouts as he snatches his phone from Sirius’ hand. This was basically torture. “What the hell are you asking him!?”
“Language.” Hope chuckles, “I just want to know more about you, dear. You never tell me anything. It’s been months since your father’s heard from you. I just want to have a bit of outside information.”
“About my usage of drugs? About girls? Really, Mum?”
Hope laughs again, “Oh, how I love this Sirius. Tell him to breathe a bit, will you Remus?”
Remus sighs, “Yeah, yeah. Everyone loves him.” He mumbles.
“I’ll call you again in a week or something.” She says, “Have a good time, and send us pictures!”
“I will. Talk to you soon.”
“Love you, Remus.” She sighs at the end of the call, when Remus hangs up before she’s even done so that it can pass off as a mistake. He briefly thinks of how stupid it is that he hasn’t been able to tell his mum that he loves her in almost ten years, scratching at his scars mindlessly, when he’s brought back to reality by Sirius’ stare.
“What was that?” he asks, incredulously, like he cannot believe what just happened.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that she’d want to talk to you. God, I should’ve seen this coming.” He groans and rubs his hands over his face.
“No, it’s fine, you know I love her.” He brushes off, but still stares at Remus, “How come she sounded like she never even met you?” he asks confused.
Remus stares blankly for a moment, until he clears his throat and rubs his hands together. “She didn’t? Why would she sound like that?” he rolls his eyes, but Sirius keeps his eyes on him.
“That’s my question. Moony, why did it sound like Hope has no idea who you are? She said it was weird that you said you were taking notes and listening to Moody all the time. As if you didn’t spend your entire schoolyears listening to teachers religiously.”
“Well,” Remus shrugs, “She wasn’t around during school. She’s probably still thinking I’m the stupid eight-year-old kid who didn’t care about learning at all.”
“Okay, even that, it’s still fucking weird Moony,” Sirius presses, and Remus is starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. “Why aren’t you out? You know your parents are supportive, they know about James’ queerness.” He illustrates.
“Why are you interrogating me?” Remus frowns, “That’s my business, back off.”
It’s now Sirius’ time to frown and leap up from the bed, “Really? So you help me be okay with myself and make me come out to my friends while you’re not even out yourself? You’re just a fraud then?”
“I didn’t make you come out.” Remus spits out, standing up too, towering over Sirius, “Don’t twist what happened because you decided to be mad.” He rolls his eyes, “So, I’m not out. What fucking difference does that make?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe that I didn’t even know.” Sirius throws his arms, “Fuck, Remus, we’re supposed to tell each other everything! How I come I didn’t fucking know?”
“Are we? Jesus I’d like a bloody update on what we’re supposed to do.” He rolls his eyes, “Maybe I didn’t tell you because it’s not your business!” he exclaims.
“You’re just being petty.” Sirius shakes his head.
“Am I? I’m sorry, my family is none of your business. It’s my shit to deal with, you don’t get to say anything about it.” Remus declares sternly.
“No, I do get to say something about it when it concerns me as well. We’re together now, Remus, the time we had to do everything alone is gone. And the fact that you’re hiding from Hope and Lyall Lupin, the world’s second-best set of parents in the world is saying that something is wrong. I just want to understand you, not pick a fight.” Sirius rationalises, but Remus isn’t having it. He shakes his head and brushes past Sirius towards the door.
“Sirius, I’m going to say this just once, and I hope you’ll get it through your head. My family and my relationship with them have absolutely nothing to do with you, and is absolutely none of your concern. Just because we kiss sometimes doesn’t mean you get to analyse how much my mother knows about me or how I don’t know how to tell her that I love her. You don’t fucking have a word to say.” He explains curtly, and doesn’t look too closely when hurt spreads over Sirius’ face. He regrets the mean underside of his words as soon as he says them but continues. He needs time to calm back down. “I’m going to eat lunch with Lily or something. See you tonight.” He adds and leaves out the door, not looking back over his shoulder.
_
For once since the beginning of the trip, Remus doesn’t enjoy the visit. Porto is great, but he doesn’t pay much attention to the buildings, monuments and views, almost doesn’t take any picture and decidedly doesn’t look at Sirius. He stays with Pandora and Lily, not participating in the conversation whatsoever, but it’s better than being alone, he reckons. He regrets what he said to Sirius; that much is obvious to him, and that makes him feel miserable. How did he manage to fuck up something so great so quickly? He’s been pinning away like an idiot for years and he goes and yells at him the moment he feels a little trapped? It’s stupid and unfair.
Sirius Black is not someone who deserves to be treated that way, and he hates himself for being the person who does treat him badly. He risks a glance at Sirius, and sees him standing under James’ arm, cuddling up as they look at the Clerigos Tower. They have their backs to Remus, so he can’t see their faces, but from the way Sirius’ shoulders are slumped downwards, he ashamedly hopes that Sirius feels bad enough to forgive Remus. That this morning will just be a fight, and not the greatest mistake of Remus’ existence. If he ever lets someone as wonderful as Sirius slip through his fingers because of his stupidity, he’ll never forgive himself.
But the thing is, even if Sirius forgives him, he might ask again why Remus hasn’t said anything to his parents. And Remus doesn’t know if he can answer that.
Because yes, he knows, to some extent, that his parents are supportive and wouldn’t care if he told them he was gay. He knows, they’re not the kind of parents who think that their kid’s sexuality makes any difference, but it’s still something to ask. In coming out, he’s asking them to support him. And he can’t ask anything else of them. They’ve given too much already; all the money for his tuition at Hogwin, all the time spent in hospital rooms after the accident, her mother’s leg. He can’t ask for more. He can’t be any more of a burden to them.
He sighs, for about the thousandth time today, and that’s apparently one too much for Lily.
“Alright, grumpy, have it out. What happened with Black?” she crosses her arms, and Remus knows she means business. He would smile if his intestines weren’t twisting with guilt.
“Nothing.” He grumbles, still staring at the back of Sirius’ head. If only he could just turn back to this morning and not give the phone to Sirius. He absolutely did not need to know that he hasn’t been honest with his mother since he was nine. That she barely knows what kind of person he is.
“Your aura is full of bad energy.” Pandora muses tranquilly.
“Thanks, Panda.” He says anyway, because he can’t be a pain to Pandora. She’s too precious.
“You should tell us what’s bothering you. We could help, you know.” Pandora advices, and is quickly followed by Lily.
“And talking about it could make you see things more clearly. It always helps to let it out anyway.”
“Exactly.” Pandora nods at her, “And we will not offer judgement, you know that. Sometimes just being honest with yourself is enough to get past what’s bothering you.”
“Yeah, of course, no judgment.” Lily acquiesces. Remus listens to them, and his apology starts to take form. Be honest with yourself. No judgement. Talking about it always helps. Sounds like a fair plan.
He nods at them, “It’s okay, you being there is plenty. Thanks girls.” They smile back at him as he looks back at Sirius’ head and sighs again. Just from the way he’s standing, he looks miserable; the confident, high held high with aristocrat elegance Sirius Black he’s used to has been metamorphosed into a hunched back, huddled over teenage boy who had a fight with the guy he’s seeing, and who’s seeking comfort from his best friend.
Remus is always glad for James, but he specially is in those instances, when Remus can’t be there for Sirius but James knows exactly what to say or do. They’re soulmates those two, Remus has always known, but he doesn’t mind. If he has to share the love of his life with someone, let it be James Potter.
He waits an hour, until they’re walking towards the 6 bridges and James seems to have dislocated from Sirius’ side just enough for Remus to be able to ask him to talk without being overheard.
“Can we talk, please?” he whispers close to Sirius’ face, looking at the strands of hair framing his beautiful face.
Sirius looks at him with apprehension in his eyes and nods. He looks at James, who gestures for him to go, and sets off to walk next to Remus.
“Moony, I-“ Sirius starts, but Remus talks at the same time.
“I’m sorry-“ he tries, but chuckles nervously when he realises. “Sorry. You go.”
Sirius nods and looks down at the concrete below them, “I’m sorry for this morning. I went too far, I shouldn’t have pried that much. It’s none of my business, you’re right. I won’t ask again. I’m sorry.” He apologises and looks at Remus on the last word with eyes so full of apology and remorse it makes Remus’ heart break slightly.
His gaze softens as he looks at Sirius, “No, no, Sirius don’t apologise.” He shakes his head and takes Sirius’ hand, “I shouldn’t have talked to you that way. I…when I said ‘just because we kiss sometimes’” he air-quotes, “I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I said that, but I really don’t want you to think that this” he gestures between the two of them, “doesn’t mean anything to me. It means the world to me, Pads, being able to hold your hand, or kiss you, or just tell you that I like you, it’s so important. And I really don’t want you to think otherwise.”
“Also, you were right. I should’ve told you that I wasn’t out for a while already. It’s not fair that you told me everything about your own insecurities and I didn’t tell you about mine.” He continues, and Sirius nods along, listening intently. “I’m sorry, Sirius. Please don’t let me talk to you this way again. You don’t deserve it.”
Sirius stares at him for a long while, until he cocks his head to the side, “Do you really think that I have the right to know about the stuff with your family?”
“Yes.” Remus says right away, then fidgets a bit, “I don’t like talking about it though. Thinking about it either, honestly.” He admits. Sirius simply nods.
“I don’t want to know if you don’t want to tell me.” He disclaims, “Take all your time. It was just weird this morning because I didn’t expect your mum to ask me about drugs and girls. As if you’d ever be straight and wild enough to do that.” He teases, and it does well to relieve the tense atmosphere. Remus chuckles and swings and arm around Sirius’ shoulders.
“Oh, I’m not wild enough, you say?” Remus repeats.
Sirius scoffs, “I am certain that you would choke on a joint if you tried.”
“How about I prove you wrong tonight?” he challenges.
“If you can handle it.” Sirius agrees with a smirk.
_
That night, Sirius discovers Remus’ dark past. Eager as always, Sirius finds some guy who sells weed at the entrance of a club and starts to wrap a joint clumsily, getting hash and spit all over his fingers until Remus snatches it from his hold and rolls it with ease. Sirius looks like he’s been slapped in the face, his jaw hanging low as Remus takes a hit and sighs with pleasure, like greeting an old friend. He asks him a few thousand times whenever the fuck he got to learn how to roll and with who and how, but Remus simply smokes and smirks at him.
“I’ve got to maintain some sort of mystery around me.” Is his only answer, which seems to drive Sirius insane, if the way he keeps saying so is anything to go by. The truth is that Remus tried weed at 14 for the first time at his cousin’s place, and it has since become their thing. Anytime he sees him, they get stoned and talk about everything and nothing. Not so exciting really. Remus much prefers Sirius thinking he’s secretly part of a gang.
The morning after, they’re both sick and tired from the booze and drugs from the night before, and don’t make it out of bed until noon. They had a free day, fortunately, to lounge around the city of Porto, and they start it at three in the afternoon after a much-needed tomato sandwich. James appears to have booked them a surprise, is what he says over the phone, and summons them over to a small beach port. When they get there, they are greeted by James, Marlene, Dorcas and Mary waving aboard a sailboat.
“Marauders!” James shouts, “Today, we are pirates!”
“You rented a boat?” Remus raises an eyebrow.
James nods, “We’ve got all afternoon. Get on board!” he grins.
“Do you guys know how to sail?” Mary asks, frowning. Both Remus and Sirius shake their heads, which make them sigh.
“Guess we’re fucked.” Sirius shrugs. Everyone on the boat chuckle helplessly, until Marlene exclaims.
“At least we have a toboggan!”
The promenade is fun and calm; James tries to figure out what the map means, Dorcas and Mary actually manage to handle the sails and make the boat move with the wind, Remus lies on his back and tans with a book in his hand while Sirius and Marlene keep jumping in the water, with or without the toboggan’s input. At some point, Mary gasps, and they all rush to where she’s sitting to see a small horde of red, pink and yellow fish. She immediately plunges her phone underwater to record them and manages to have a 4k video of them swimming around, their warm colours contrasting from the clear blue of the ocean. Remus has no doubt that the video is quickly sent to Djibril with whom she’s kept contact, and he asks her to send it to him. He has finally made his decision vis a vis really starting an Instagram account, and he is going to need material for it.
He decides that the time is good as any and starts putting it up (he’s done reading anyway); he choses a picture that Sirius took of him a few months back during his birthday celebration. He’s standing with his back to the camera in his favourite Hope-knitted brown, cream and red jumper and brown jeans, with his head turned to face Sirius and an arm raised to flip him off. The picture was obviously taken outside; in the small town near their school where they snuck to for Remus’ birthday, and he really likes the vibe. He somehow looks like both a fuckboy and a librarian.
Along with that picture, he spends quite a few minutes deciding on his bio, only to settle for a few words; living in the moment. He thinks that it might be too cheesy, but doesn’t really have any other idea, so he doesn’t think much more about it. He adds ‘Starman’ by David Bowie to his bio and posts a few pictures to get himself started: Snuffles, his dog; a picture of him, Sirius, Peter and James standing in front of a temple in Japan; a picture of Lily in Times Square; him, Mary and Pandora in Oaxaca; James, Sirius, Marlene and Dorcas playing football in Morocco and finally, a screenshot of the video Mary just took of the fishes.
He doesn’t really think about his account until the next day, in the bus to Madrid. It’s the sixth day, and everyone has gotten used to take buses and boats instead of planes to everywhere, so it’s not a novelty. They all have their assigned seatmates, Remus is with Sirius, with no big surprise, and only ten minutes until they get to their destination, Mary gasps and turns to face him.
“Remus John Lupin, have you got an Instagram account you didn’t tell me about?” she accuses.
Sirius scoffs, “The day Remus starts using social media is the day that I stop listening to music. He’s simply too old for this.” He explains in a hopeless way.
“I did start Instagram, yeah.” Remus ignores him completely and answers Mary’s question, “Set it up on the boat yesterday.”
“WHAT?” Sirius turns to face him so fast he almost breaks his neck.
“Wow, Moony on Insta? What’s next? Me on a tennis court?” James interrupts.
“I never thought the day would come.” Peter comments from his seat two rows over, “I did a lot of coaxing in tenth grade.”
Remus simply shrugs, “I just thought it would be useful for uni.”
“And you didn’t think to tell us?” Sirius asks with an eyebrow raised, obviously judging him.
“Or maybe just follow us? You know, your best friends for the last seven years?” James suggests, and Peter nods along.
Remus groans, and by the time they get off the bus in Madrid, @rjl_remus has nine new followers who take advantage of the whole day wandering in the streets of this new city to tease and make fun of Remus. Sirius asks him to take his picture in front of the Puerta de Alcalá and to post it later on, Lily, Mary and Marlene keep ambushing him to take selfies and force him to add it to his story, and during their break near the Royal Palace of Madrid, their friends comment all kinds of silly things to his pictures. Multiple times during the day, Remus has the distinct urge to delete his account or block all of them or even just throw his phone in the bin, but he refrains from doing so because admittedly, it is pretty funny. Other than that, he loves Madrid and Moody’s explanations about the Spanish royal family that he writes down greedily; having taken French in school, he doesn’t really know much about the Spanish culture or language, something he has regretted since Mexico. Honestly, Remus isn’t surprised to love Latin countries more than others; whether it be because of his ridiculous name or the way he grew up he doesn’t know, but he simply feels more at home and interested in Spain, Brazil or Mexico than he had in the USA or Korea, for example. So, as he eats his paella in a small restaurant that night while Sirius steals his phone and posts all kinds of ridiculous things on his Instagram, listening to the rhythmic music of the restaurant, he feels pleased and happy.
The feeling continues the next day, after three museums in total; two art galleries and one about Latin America, a lot of pictures in Remus’ camera roll and notes in his battered old notebook, as he and the entire group join in on a festival on Plaza Major. There’s very loud traditional Spanish music playing from a live band, and about twenty flamenco dancers performing in red and black dresses. Around them, there is a lot of people either dancing along with them, mostly young girls, including Mary, Lily, Pandora and Sybill, Remus realises, and other people bobbing their heads to the music with beers in their hands. Remus decides to be a part of the second group of people with the remaining of his friends, which goes immensely well, until the live band leaves and very loud speakers take over with Don Omar’s Danza Kuduro. From then, it’s only Spanish party hits that are rather sensual and fun, and it only takes a pout and puppy eyes from Sirius for Remus to go dancing with him.
“The things I do for you.” He mumbles as Sirius drags him in the crowd. Once surrounded by everyone dancing, the Plaza feels more like a huge club than the biggest place in the city, and it kind of helps Remus cool down his anxiety. Sirius sneaks his arms around Remus’ neck, like always, and Remus takes the opportunity to put his own hands on Sirius’ arse. It makes him laugh, and they kiss sweetly for a while, swaying along to the music that plays, sometimes pulling back to whisper something. After about fifteen minutes of this quiet state of being, gently dancing together, the music turns to English with David Guetta’s Titanium, then dirtier, with Lost in the Fire by Gesaffelstein and The Weeknd. Around them, people pair up to dance closer together and grind, but Remus nor Sirius pay attention; they’re both staring directly at each other, the tension rising up around them like smoke from a cigarette, hot and so present in Sirius’ gaze that Remus feels himself get slightly bothered already. He steps closer to Sirius, not breaking their staring match, and tries not to react as Sirius rolls his hips onto him with a smirk. The music behind them changes to Me and Your Mama, but Remus barely notices; he’s too busy trying not to die on the spot. Sirius looks hotter than ever, he thinks, in his simple black shirt and black jeans, with still pale arms despite being in the sun for months, and his long, long dark hair falling in waves over his frame. His lips are red and bitten, his pupils are dilated, staring at Remus like he’s picturing other, ungodly things in his mind, and he looks every bit like a fucking wet dream. Remus is taken with the urge to touch him more, more and more right away and doesn’t refrain himself; he runs his hands over the curve of his arse with urgency, going up his back and down to the back of his thighs, and it seems that Sirius is taken with the same need; his hands run through Remus’ hair and along his back frantically, like he’s trying to touch to most possible at once. Their lips meet with a crash of urgency like they’ve never had before, and they kiss messily and hotly, short and hurried kisses with laboured breaths falling over the other. Remus has never quite felt this way, like he’d combust if he didn’t have Sirius right now, in any or every way possible. He pulls back long enough to whisper in Sirius’ ear, then goes back to kiss him, manhandling him through the crowd. Sirius nods through the kiss, and once they realise that they can’t really get back to their hotel room locked in a kiss, they separate for the duration of one small bus ride that feels longer than anything he’s every experienced in his life. His hands keep fidgeting in his lap, and when Sirius smirks at him and puts his hand on Remus’ inner thigh, he has to dig his nails in his skin hard enough to bleed. He glares at Sirius who only smirks devilishly and runs his hand up and down, making Remus’ breath more laboured than need be. As soon as they step out of the bus, Remus grabs Sirius’ face and kisses him like a man starved before taking his hand and walking (running) to the hotel.
“Someone’s greedy.” Sirius teases as he lets himself be pulled to their room on the fourth floor.
“Like you didn’t do everything you could to make me.”
Sirius smirks, “And it worked like a charm.” And swipes his hotel card to enter their room, “Take your clothes off, right now.”
“And I’m the greedy one?” Remus raises an eyebrow, already taking off his shirt. Sirius mirrors him and once they’re both standing in their boxers, Sirius shuts Remus off with a kiss and walks over to the bed, not stopping when Remus’ knees hit the edge, making him fall on his back on the bed. Sirius settles on top of him and keeps kissing him, slotting his thigh in between Remus’. They keep on making out and dry humping for a bit, until Sirius’ moans turn more desperate, and Remus’ groans turn to miserable whimpers. It doesn’t take much more for them to discard their remaining clothing and for Remus to reach down Sirius’ body and take a hold of him. Remus smirks when he finds Sirius already fully hard and moaning as soon as Remus touches him, but after simply one flick of his wrist, Sirius stops him by grabbing his hand.
“I’m going to…” he starts, “I want you to fuck me first.” He explains simply, and Remus freezes, staring back to Sirius’ eyes.
“Are you sure?” he asks, once he finds his voice back. It is a big deal, after all, he thinks, even if he’s already done it with girls, it’s still his first time with a man.
Sirius nods, but when Remus still doesn’t move, he rolls his eyes, “Yes Remus, I’m sure. Now get the stuff and fuck me, please.”
It doesn’t take much more coaxing for Remus, but he makes sure, through it all, to be gentle and to take his time. He knows it can hurt the first time, and he’ll be damned if he’s the person to hurt Sirius. Even if Sirius reassures him again and again that he’s okay, and that Remus can go faster if he wants to, really, he doesn’t, and soon, there’s not much more talking and more grunts, moans and whimpers between and through messy and wet kisses.
An hour later, they’re both spent, red chests heaving on the wet mattress than Remus goes to clean. Sirius is deadweight on the bed, his hair sticks to his face and his mouth is parted to breathe and he keeps his eyes closed, as if still reeling in his pleasure. Remus opens a window and joins him back in bed, and within minutes, they’re both whispering ‘good night’ and falling asleep to the rhythm of their heartbeats.
_
On the eighth day, they get to Barcelona around noon, just in time to eat yet another paella (what can Remus say, he loves it too damn much) and visit the city slowly. It appears that after Sirius and Remus left, everyone got very, very sloshed and that Sirius and Remus are about the only ones without a killer headache. And James too, because that arse never gets hangover.
Despite the groups’ tiredness, they’re all still amazed in front of the Sagrada Familia and take many pictures of Gaudi’s buildings, everyone still trying to get themselves posted on Remus’ account. It’s somehow become a competition, he realises, to see who got themselves posted that day. For the last two nights, at dinner, he did a show of looking over the pictures he was forced to take and post his favourite, once Sirius and once Marlene, on his account. It’s fun, he thinks, to see the comments from his friends. Some people he knows from school or from the group with them have started following him too – namely Alex, which had Sirius sulking for about an hour in Barcelona when he saw – and Remus thinks it’s nice.
He thinks about it some more as he sees that some girls from school he hasn’t talked to for at least two years have started following him, but his own family isn’t following him. He thinks it weird and adds his cousin, Oliver, the one he always gets stoned with, and hesitates before adding his parents. He looks over his account, namely at the picture of Sirius he posted on the first night in Madrid, with the caption, what I wouldn’t do for that idiot, and wonders if it’s too telling. If she wouldn’t just know with one glance.
But what if she knew?
That’s the question, really. Rationally, he knows that she wouldn’t care. She’s Hope Lupin, she’s a saint. She would never react badly. But when he thinks about her learning that about her own son, he doesn’t feel the same way. She wouldn’t react badly, but would she be proud of a gay kid? Would she still love him?
She would. She would be disappointed. He knows that she always wanted grandchildren, and while he can still have them, they probably wouldn’t be biological. He doesn’t want her to have to settle for something. Not when she gave so much for him.
Then, another thought enters his mind, and he turns to Sirius immediately.
“Pads.” He asks, and Sirius turns his head towards him in question, “Do you mind that I’m not telling my mum? Because I can tell her, if it bothers you. It’s no problem.” He lies.
Sirius smiles gently, “No it doesn’t bother me. It’s not like I can talk, I only told my best friends like a week ago. Really, it’s fine.”
Remus nods silently but finds a weird disappointment in his chest. He frowns, not really understanding why he feels bad about Sirius being okay with it until it hits him; he wanted an excuse to tell her. Because he wants to tell her.
He puts that thought on hold, and doesn’t think of it until the next day, their free day, walking through Barcelona towards the Camp Nou around 4 in the afternoon when his phone rings. He answers without thinking; Mary said she’d call when she, Lily and Pandora came back from their shopping spree, but when he says hello, it’s not Mary who answers.
“Hey kid.” Lyall Lupin’s voice comes through the phone, and it has Remus freeze in his step. James stops walking too next to him, frowning at him in concern.
“Dad.” He greets tightly after a second, “Didn’t expect you, if I’m honest.” James’ eyes widen slightly then he smiles and nods at Remus, who rolls his eyes, “James says hi.”
His father chuckles over the phone, “Always liked that lad. So, tell me, where in the world are you right now exactly? I haven’t heard from you.” He doesn’t specify in how long, and Remus is glad.
“Right, sorry. Been busy. I’m in Barcelona right now.” He says, and he hates how his voice is far too cordial when talking to his dad, as if he was talking to a teacher or a boss. “I thought Mum would’ve told you.”
“She did.” He hums, “Still wanted to hear it from you. Are you busy right now? I want to hear from you, we haven’t talked in ages.” He asks, and Remus doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but he thinks he hears sadness in his father’s voice.
“Sorry.” He apologises again, “I, uh, I’m kind of busy.” He says and flinches at his half lie; he’s not busy right now, but he will be in ten minutes when he reaches the stadium. “I can talk for a bit, but not much more.”
“What are you up to?” he asks, and Remus frowns more.
“Is that really why you called? To catch up?”
Lyall sighs, “Yes Remus, a father usually calls his son to get some news. But if you’re planning on being secretive as always, then I should just let you go.” He says lowly with defeat in his voice.
Remus is silent for a bit, not really knowing how to answer that, until he tries, “We’re going to the Camp Nou right now. To visit. James’ proper pumped.” He says awkwardly, and feels a little better when Lyall chuckles, “That’s why I can’t stay long.”
“The Barca is playing tonight. I imagine the city will be as pumped as James.” He says, and Remus raises his eyebrows.
“Oh I didn’t know they were playing.” He mumbles, “I got you a few bottles, by the way. Sake from Japan, Soju from Korea, Whiskey from the US, Tequila from Mexico, Arak from Egypt and I’ll get you French wine.”
Lyall’s heartily laugh makes Remus long for childhood, “This much alcohol is going to kill me! How are you even fitting this many bottles in your suitcase?”
“Life finds a way.” He shrugs, “We’ve actually been measuring how nice the alcohol is depending on whether you’d like it.”
“You’re making me pass for an alcoholic.” He grumbles, “Although I’d been wanting to try Sake.” He adds, making Remus smile. He looks up and sees that the girls have come back and that they’re standing in front of the stadium.
“I have to go now, dad. We’re there.” He goes to hang up, then remembers something, “I’ll probably post on Instagram, you should have a look. I added you and Mum.”
Remus and Lyall exchange goodbyes and Remus quickly adds him on Instagram, as to not pass off like a huge liar, and turns to his friends. They all look excited to visit the stadium, only Sirius keeps stealing concerned glances at Remus. The fourth time it happens, Remus mouths that he’s fine, but Sirius frowns more. It seems that since his mother’s phone call in Porto, Sirius has been worried about him and his relationship with his parents, and rightfully so. A guy who has zero issues with his parents doesn’t flip out like he did when asked about it. So, of course, when on line to enter, Sirius sneaks close to him to whisper to him.
“Did your dad call you?” he asks. Remus nods and rolls his eyes.
“It’s fine. I think my mum asked him to call me. She knows I’m hiding something.” Though what she suspects, I don’t know; I hide so many things, is what he thinks, but doesn’t say.
Sirius rubs his arm but doesn’t say anything. Remus thinks that he’s probably scared to say the wrong thing, and he’s probably right.
“It’s nothing. And see, I’m opening up, I added them on Insta. Let’s see the stadium.” He says with an air of finality. Not long after, James turns to all of them.
“I have a surprise, ladies and gentlemen.” He announces, and immediately, Sirius widens his eyes.
“You didn’t.” he starts, and is met by James nodding excitedly.
“I fucking did!” he exclaims. They both jump in place like children on Christmas morning, and hug happily.
“That’s why I fucking love you, man!” Sirius declares, making James laugh. Once they release each other, they’re met with the incredulous looks of the rest of the group.
“We have no idea what you did.” Peter says and is followed by seven nods.
“He got us tickets to the game!” Sirius shouts excitedly, and James beams again, jumping up and down.
“It’s even better hearing you say it!” he exclaims.
“You’re fucking kidding!” Marlene gasps.
“Oh my god, we’re seeing the Barca play!” Dorcas shakes her girlfriend, “Oh my God!”
“No,” James shakes his head excitedly, “We’re seeing the Barca and the PSG play!”
“Holy shit!” Marlene shouts, and is quickly followed by the three other footie fans. The six others looks at each other indifferently.
“I mean, it’s nice for them, but I don’t really care.” Sybill starts, making them chuckle.
“Yeah same.” Mary smiles.
“Look how happy they are, though.” Lily coos, and Pandora nods at her.
“It’s worth sitting around screaming people for 90 minutes.” She says.
“Remus and I have had enough of that in school.” Peter rolls his eyes, followed by Remus.
“90 minutes every weekend, even if the freezing fucking cold.” He recounts, failing to talk about how he was looking forward to see Sirius in his football kit every weekend, sweaty and happy.
I guess the Camp Nou’s kind of cool though.” Mary assesses. They all nod, and Remus doesn’t even see the many hours pass until they’re watching a game of navy and white figures run around in a field under them, with the many chants and shouts and the smell of beer in the air. Remus doesn’t support any team at the beginning of the match, but by the 89th minute, he’s standing along with Sirius and James, shouting as Lamine Yamal dribbles towards the goal, cheering when he secures the Barca the win with 2-1 at the end. The night ends up with all of them drunk on beer and high with the sense of camaraderie, shouting and chanting the Barca’s anthem with Spanish strangers in the street at random until the night turns into dusk. In the end, Remus thinks that football maybe isn’t that bad.