At the Pub, Part 2
They were both very drunk.
Remus had quit the gin and tonics and moved on to shots of fireball whiskey because, as he put it, “it’s faster.” As if he was trying to knock himself out as quickly as possible. Drink himself into oblivion. Sirius had downed enough beer to drown a sturgeon and had nearly everyone at their three tables, as well as some strangers at other tables, singing along with “Friends in Low Places” on the radio.
One person that wasn’t singing was Severus, although he did look amused at Sirius’ antics. When the song was over he left his table and took the empty seat across from Remus that Quirinus had been sitting in. It was getting late and some people, Quirinus being one of them, were gathering their coats and calling cabs or, if they’d spent too much at the pub, stumbling home on foot.
“Sirius, you do know how to command a room. Very impressive,” Severus said; then, turning his attention to Remus, “And how’s our Romeo tonight?”
Remus, who by then was a bundle of slurry speech and hooded eyes, leaned over the table dramatically, his elbow slipping out from under him, which knocked over a couple of empty glasses and caused his chin to drop an inch or two so that his face nearly slammed onto the table’s wet surface.
He pointed an accusatory finger unsteadily at Severus. “You shouldn’ have touched me earlier. I didn' like that. It made me really, really, really, really uncomf— unc— uncomf-drable. I think you’re a bad man, Sev’rus Snape.”
Severus turned to Sirius. “Wow, he’s extremely drunk,” he said.
That made Sirius angry. “Hey!” he said. “It’s late. We’re all extremely drunk. But he’s telling you something and you’re ignoring him, and that sucks.”
Severus held his head high, but said stoically, “You’re right. I apologize, Remus. I wouldn’t have touched you today if I’d known it made you uncomfortable.”
“Nex’ time, ask first,” Remus slurred. He started to sit back in his seat, but then leaned forward again and added, “’Cuz I’ll probly say, ‘Yes, touch me, Sev’rus,” ‘cuz yer kinda sexy. In a really, really, mean kinda way.”
Severus actually laughed at that. “You think I’m sexy?”
“And mean,” Remus said again.
Severus laughed harder.
“'Kay, look,” Remus said, gesturing at him drunkenly. “You got the same exact fuckin’ haircut as my frien' Sirius, an’ we all know Sirius is a fuckin’ sexy man. Why d'you have the same… why… d'you go to the same barber, you guys, or what? I have to take a piss.”
Sirius was laughing too now, although he was a little annoyed that Remus was so focused on Severus if he thought he, Sirius, was “a fuckin’ sexy man.”
When Remus got up to use the washroom, it was clear he wouldn’t get there on his own. Sirius grabbed him around the waist just in time to stop him from toppling onto Argus at the next table.
“Okay, Reems,” he said, “let’s get you there without a head injury.”
Remus’ height, coupled with a general lack of awareness of his surroundings, made him difficult to maneuver but Sirius managed to get him to the washroom. As they pushed through the door, Remus suddenly smiled and said, “I love you, Sirius. Yer really…” He trailed off.
“I love you, too, buddy,” Sirius returned, “more than you even think you know. Tomorrow, you’re gonna forget this, but I’ll tell you right now you have no idea what I feel for you. No. Idea.”
Remus nodded and collapsed sideways into a row of sinks, setting off an electric hand-dryer on the way over, making them both jump.
“Get you to the… ugh… urinals,” Sirius grunted, heaving him back up and pulling him along.
Remus fumbled for a long time with the button on his trousers, so long that Sirius worried he might piss himself in the meantime.
“Need help?”
“Mmm… can’t do it.”
Sirius reached for his waistband but found his own motor skills also struggled under the alcohol’s influence. Finally, he got the button undone and unzipped him, too, just as another man came into the washroom and gave the two a disapproving frown.
“What?” Sirius demanded. “Never seen a man help his friend piss?”
Remus shooed his hands away. “’Kay, ‘kay, I can hold my own cock.”
“Lots of practice?” Sirius teased.
Remus scoffed but said, “Yeah,” and braced himself with one hand against the wall behind the urinal, holding himself with the other. Sirius made himself look away.
After that, Remus entered his dark and introspective zone. He became silent at the table and the tilt of his eyebrows and tightness of his lips looked like quiet distress. Sirius rubbed circles on his back and talked with the others at the table until he felt a little jolt beside him and saw Remus’ head drop, then lift -- his eyes trying futilely to stay open --then drop again. Minutes later he was conked out with his head and shoulders on the table, his long arms snaked around pitchers and pint glasses, sleeves drenched in beer, and Severus was asking Sirius how he would possibly get home.
“He always does this,” Sirius said. “I’ll put him in a cab.”
“Nonsense,” Severus said. “I’ve only had two glasses of wine this evening; I can drive. Just tell me where he lives and I’ll take him home and make sure he gets in safely.”
It sounded like a good idea, so Sirius woke Remus just enough to get him on his feet. He mumbled incoherently and stumbled to the parking lot with Severus and Sirius keeping him awkwardly upright.
***
The next day, Sirius was out for a jog when his phone rang.
“Sirius!” It was Remus, and he sounded ecstatic. “You are not going to believe this. Guess who I woke up next to this morning?”
Sirius was silent for a moment, shocked. It was the last thing he expected to hear Remus say. The guy hadn’t been with anyone in over two years. “You'd better be about to say your teddy bear,” he said finally, “because you were passed out drunk when you left the pub. You were in no condition to—”
“Severus Snape!” Remus cut in, ignoring him.
All Sirius could do was shake his head. He knew Remus was waiting for a response, but he couldn’t make his lips move. That bastard, he thought. And then he felt very guilty for not making sure his friend got home safe.