InsaneJournal

Who: Remus and Sirius
What: Sirius replaced his blood with alcohol, and made some questionable decisions. Cue drunken conversations, hangovers, then awkward honesty and feelings and other things Sirius doesn't approve of.
When: Backdated to New Years Day, just after midnight.
Where: Their flat
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, mostly for language.
Status: Complete.

Sirius was drunk. It was New Year, so there was nothing too surprising about this fact. But rather than laughing in the middle of a group of people, joking with James and being attached to whatever attractive partner he’d decided upon during the bells, he was on his own. In the dark. Hidden away somewhere he could brood and be angry without people apologizing or asking him if he was alright. Because of course he wasn’t fucking alright. First Morgana, then Regulus and Rose in such quick succession it was like someone was delivering swift punches straight to his heart, making the world reel and his stomach reject whatever meal it was holding.

And now he had apparated clumsily back to the flat, stumbling a little in the middle of his sitting room, one shaking hand coming up to wipe across a bleary eye. Because he didn’t want to be on his own. That was done, he’d had enough of it now. Now that he’d lost so many people. For no good reason and in a way no’ one could fix. He hated it. It was breaking him and it just wasn’t fair. None of this was fair, and that lit in Sirius some kind of reckless, indignant anger that powered him onwards, sending him loping awkwardly across the main room.

Sirius swung open Remus’ bedroom door, the alcohol sweeping through his system ruining his balance and having him leaning against the door-frame, although he somehow managed this with the usual kind of the casual elegance known to him. The world spun a little, but he could make out the shape that was Moony shift in the sudden light from the main room, the noise the other boy made when he woke up.

Sirius didn’t talk, didn’t wait. He strode unsteadily over the room, sat down heavily on the bed beside his friend and pushed his lips roughly into Remus’, kissing him fiercely, with some kind of angry desperation, trying to channel all of this out. When he pulled back a moment later, his face was set heatedly, although he seemed to have some trouble focusing.

“It’s New Year,” he told him, slurring his words a fraction. It almost sounded like an accusation. “Why are you asleep?”

Remus didn’t celebrate, because he didn’t see any reason to celebrate when the world was burning down around them and people were dying with increasing frequency. And he had never been as good at faking it as other people...at least not like that. He was the serious one, the reliable one older than his years and more scarred and damaged than anyone his age had a right to be. Severus’s death had hit him in a way he hadn’t expected and he missed the odd sort of friendship he’d been developing with the man. And he did think of it as friendship. The other deaths upset him just as much, and he just couldn’t bring himself to pretend that anything was fine.

So he made tea and read through a book and tried to keep from screaming with just how overwhelming it all was, and how had things changed so much in one week? It didn’t make sense. But then, his life back home would have changed irrevocably in less time, with James and Lily dead and Sirius and Peter gone, so maybe it wasn’t such a stretch to think so much could happen in so little time. He tried to focus on the pages, but he felt hollow and numb and there was no point to any of it. It was like being home again, waiting each day to hear the names of people who were lost, hoping like hell that none of the names would be familiar and dying a little when they were. Giving up, he shucked off his clothes and curled up under the blankets, praying that the world would make more sense in the new year and passing into a fitful sleep with dreams of blood and ashes and fire and green light.

He was woken, he didn’t know how many minutes or hours later, by his door opening and light spilling into the room. He’d always been a light sleeper and it had only got worse with the Order and the war. He shifted and Sirius was there in the space of a moment, lips pressed against his and close enough to touch...and god, how he wanted to. It felt like he was burning up inside and he wondered if it was possible to die just from this. And it was too much, with everything else and he couldn’t breathe or think or move. And then he could and he shoved the other man away from him because he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be what Sirius needed right now or he would surely break from this.

“Because anything else would have been lying,” he said with a shrug, gripping tightly at the threads that were holding him together. “And don’t do that, Sirius. Please don’t. Because if you do, I’ll let you. I’ll always let you. And it’s not right. It isn’t. Because...I have all these feelings...and they’re too much. And you don’t...so we can’t. So, please don’t. Not if you don’t mean it. And you don’t.”

Remus was there, talking in that awkward, stumbled way he’d taken to using when Sirius got too close. And the animagus had to close his eyes and really concentrate to catch what he was saying, because the world kept tipping on its axis beneath him, which was mildly unfair of it. Sirius could have gone anywhere that night, to any of the girls he had scattered about the city. But he hadn’t. He had come home, come home to Remus because he was there and solid and warm he knew him better than anyone else in the world. But then Remus was so small and vulnerable when Sirius opened his eyes again that he wanted to hit him, hit him for doing this, making him feel things he didn’t want to be feeling when all he needed was to touch and be close. Just so he could connect to something. Something – someone - important.

And even Sirius didn’t understand all that. The bottle he’d abandoned some point during the night had pushed any sharpness he had away from him, left him with nothing but this.

Sirius exhaled gently, feeling the alcohol swim gently through his veins, providing some buffer. For a moment he sagged into the werewolf, pressing his forehead against Remus’ and closing his eyes, detached enough to just enjoy the warmth and comfort of him. But then he remembered. And the animagus groaned, pushed angrily away from Remus and jumped back up onto his feet, staggering a little as his legs failed him and the substances running through his veins took over.

“I don’t…” he managed, sweeping dark hair from his face in a familiar gesture. “I can’t… Merlin, Remus! Don’t do this to me!” He stared at him, angrily pleading in the dim light that spilt from the other room. Sirius hated Remus in that moment. Hated him for doing this to him, for dragging him into something he couldn’t handle, had never been able to handle. Something that he couldn’t deal with now, not on top of everything else.

Sirius gave up, sank back down onto the bed, perched on the end and out of reach, eyes still fixed on Remus in the gloom. “I hate this," he slurred. "All of it. I miss them... And you can’t tell me I don’t. You don’t know...”

It might have been better if Sirius had hit him. Better than this sickening indecision that made his stomach twist itself into uncomfortable knots. Or maybe it was his heart. Or maybe they were both twisting together. But then Sirius was leaning into him and it was worse than a blow because all his felt was wretched guilt for not being able to give Sirius what he so obviously needed. And he would have. He’d have given him anything if he thought it might help, but he knew it might well kill him. With a broken sigh, he wrapped his arms around Sirius, before he was shoved back and Sirius was on his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, unable to find the voice to yell at him. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. You know I never want that...but I can’t be what you want me to be. I wish I could...god I wish I could, but I’m not wired that way. You know I’m not. This isn’t...it can’t be for me what it always is for you. It can’t be simple and easy. I can’t just let go and forget about it and go back to how we were. And you’re drunk and you’re upset and you’re not thinking straight, because if you were you wouldn’t want me!” And he didn’t want this to be a thing where they did this and then Sirius couldn’t look at him. “You would wake up...and you would regret. And I think if that happened I would die.”

He watched Sirius as he sat down and shifted next to him, wrapping his arms around him again. “I miss them too,” he said, and it didn’t matter that the them in question was different for him than it was for Sirius. Because they were both hurt and they were both breaking. And they needed each other, even if it was in different ways. He sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head against the other boy’s shoulder and just breathing for a moment.

“This scares me, Sirius,” he admitted in hushed tones. “It scares me more than anything else. Because I could lose you from this, and that would be the worst feeling in the world.” He felt like he was about to cry, his eyes stinging with the force of the emotions he was feeling. “I just want us to be like we’ve always been, because that’s safe and it can’t hurt me. But I think I might love you, and I don’t know what to do with that, because it’s new and it’s scary and it could ruin everything. So please just tell me what to do.”

And it was wrong, so wrong, to be leaning on him like this, but he felt like he’d slowly been shattering for days and he couldn’t take it any more.

Everything Remus said was true. He wasn’t like Sirius, didn’t throw himself into things for one night only. Sirius had become very good at it, losing himself in another person, knowing that the morning could come as it always did and he could stroll off home and nothing mattered. Perhaps that was why he was in Remus’ room tonight, to get that one night which would let him let go, would draw a line under whatever this was. Because perhaps if he let himself have Remus, just for a night, then he wouldn’t want him any more, and that would be one less thing which was breaking him.

Sirius was sat on the end of the bed and Remus was back, lean arms wrapping around him and holding him together. Because even with the cushion of alcohol, the anger and rage and pain Sirius was feeling was threatening to burst right out of him, tear him apart until he turned into that terrible person he didn’t recognize. The one who had chased down Peter, who had threatened Regulus and had betrayed Remus to Snape all those years ago.

Remus was speaking very quietly, his voice catching a little as Sirius automatically wrapped an arm around him, turning his face to hide in Remus’ hair as the other boy spoke into his shoulder. But he might as well have been screaming, with the impact those words made on him. Like a punch to the stomach, driving the air from his lungs. Sirius had been the one to cockily announce that he’d never fall in love, making James roll his eyes and shake his head. Love, he’d told his friends, giving James a playful punch in the arm as he got distracted by a certain redhead, was just bollocks. It was all chemicals.

And now look at him.

He held on to Remus tightly, not sure who was comforting who as his world spun unpleasantly, his stomach coiling around the drink he’d forced into it. There was every chance he wouldn’t even remember any of this in the morning, but he had a feeling that this part would stick. ‘I might love you’ would stick. And his immediate thought of ‘me too’. The thought he couldn’t voice because… he just couldn’t. Even in his current state, if he said it, it all became too real. Sirius didn’t do real. He didn’t do feelings

“You won’t lose me,” he told Remus firmly, although his voice croaked a little. “And I’d never hurt you” Again. The word hung, unsaid, between them, making his stomach turn. Sirius would die before he hurt Remus again like he had on that day, or let anyone else even attempt it. And it was this raw, protective love for the other boy that had him pulling away a little, pressing his forehead back against Remus’ in the gloom. “I shouldn’t have come in,” he muttered, and it hurt to admit that. “I just wanted you to be there... Needed you to... Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you. Go back to sleep.”

They were sitting there, holding each other together, but ripping each other apart all at once. And Remus knew it wasn’t healthy, this strange thing between them. It was bright and painful and terrifying. But he wanted it all the same, even knowing it could ruin them or mess everything up beyond telling. He’d never meant to tell Sirius about his feelings, and he couldn’t help but think he’d destroyed everything with those unplanned, wretched words. And he didn’t want to let go now because he was afraid if he did, reality would set in and the distance between them would be apparent.

And anyway, Sirius’ arms were around him and he was holding him, and Remus felt something like peace for the first time since this mess with the invasion. Since before that really. Since a stupid festive plant had forced him to confront things he had never wanted to feel. A selfish part of him hoped that Sirius wouldn’t remember in the morning, and he could just keep this secret to himself and they could hold off the inevitable for a little longer.

“I know,” Remus said, though he didn’t actually believe it. Then he sighed, shifting closer and breathing in the scent of Sirius’s hair. “I know you won’t.” Something else he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe, because Sirius hurt him in little ways without meaning to. He never meant any harm, but that somehow made it all the worse. He almost felt like crying because Sirius was only ever this open with alcohol in his veins and he sort of wanted to crawl inside him and stay there so he’d never be closed out by the other boy. And maybe that was a little weird, but he didn’t care.

Then Sirius was saying he was going to leave and Remus held on tighter. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “It’s fine...it’s all fine, Sirius. I am here...even if it’s not...it doesn’t mean I’m not here. I’ll always be here, I promise. Just...stay, all right? Please stay.” He wanted Sirius here, even if nothing happened and nothing ever changed. He just wanted to know he was there. “Don’t leave, all right?”

Sirius was glad when Remus held on. Partly because he wasn’t sure he could make it to his own room without going completely arse over elbow, but mostly because it was just… nice being here with Remus. Warm and comforting and bringing a kind of calm that the chaotic swirl of emotion and energy that was Sirius Black didn’t often get to feel. Of course, it would be gone by morning. If he remembered this he was sure it wouldn’t be something he looked back with with pride. But Sirius sighed a little, reaching up to absently trace a scar that ran neatly down from Remus’ temple. It hadn’t been what he’d been planning when he’d come into this room tonight, was about as far as what he’d had in his drink-addled mind as it was possible to get. But it would do. He was happy with this.

“Alright,” he agreed softly, and then forced a faint shadow of his lazy, infamous smile. “Get back into bed, you prat.” Reluctantly, feeling the cold night wrap back around him, he released Remus. The lack of contact was immediate and almost painful, and Sirius kicked off his shoes before scrambling up the bed like an over-sized puppy and slipping in beside the other boy. The world continued its mad tipping and spinning technique, and he groaned a little in protest at the way his stomach churned, dark hair spreading over the pillow as he slumped back. “I’ll never drink again,” he slurred, before turning his head to seek out Remus’ profile beside him. He was only a few inches away, and Sirius found himself staring for a moment, as if trying to memorize the boy he’d known for nearly a decade. He wanted to reach out and touch, but he was scared of frightening him. Of hurting him.

“I died here, you know,” he said, softly, then a pained frown crumpled the high plane of his forehead. It was an effort to keep his hushed voice level. “Do you think Regulus’ll… He might come back.”

Morning would eventually come, and they would have to face reality and all its pitfalls, but for now they had this, and it was more than enough. He didn’t want to let go, but he released Sirius and slid under the blankets, waiting for the other man to join him. They’d done this back at Hogwarts, when the sting of Sirius’s family was too strong or when Remus could feel the ache of the moon in his bones. It was never something they acknowledged or spoke about, a quiet secret between the two of them, but they had held each other together back then. They had shared something, just the two of them, that the others could never be a part of or understand. And maybe Remus should have known even then, and maybe he had, but he’d written it off as just being there for each other and doing what any good friend would.

Once Sirius had settled next to him, for once not acting like a bloody octopus with all his limbs and things, Remus allowed himself to make an attempt at relaxing. It became easier with Sirius’s pronouncement startling a laugh from him. “Of course you won’t,” he said fondly, shifting so they were laying in each other’s space, his head resting on Sirius’s chest. He hadn’t liked the space between them and this was nicer, like the earlier hug but more horizontal. “Not until tomorrow, at the very least.” The words were teasing, but true all the same. The sun rose in the east and set in the west and Sirius Black drank like a fish.

“I know.” He closed his eyes at Sirius’s words, relying on the steady heartbeat beneath his ear to calm his own. The thought of Sirius dying made him feel vaguely dizzy and sick and he didn’t want to contemplate that it had happened, or that it ever would again, even though he knew everyone died at some point. “He might. I can’t say more than that, but he might. I hope he does. I haven’t been here long enough to know how this place works, but if there’s anything fair in the world, he will.” He sighed. “Go to sleep, Sirius. The world, and I imagine a rather spectacular hangover will be here in the morning.” He snuggled a little closer. “And so will I.”

Remus curled closer, and Sirius wrapped an arm lazily around him, fingers twisting through fair strands of hair as he stared up at Remus’ ceiling. “Your lack of faith hurts me, Moony.” Then again, Sirius did claim he’d never drink again about once a week, and it never lasted more than a few days. He had an addictive personality. It wasn’t his fault – it was genetic. Look at Regulus. Or… not. Not anymore. Sirius listened to Remus’ reply, but didn’t answer as the other boy nestled closer. He wanted Regulus to come back. His brother may have been a complete twat, may have driven Sirius to the very edge more times than he could imagine. But he’d missed him when they’d been estranged, in a way that he’d buried so deep he hadn’t even remembered it was there. And now he’d been taken away again. After they’d just managed to get something close to whatever it was they’d lost.

Remus’ body softened against him, Sirius continuing to absently play with his hair as he waited for sleep. When he finally did nod off, it was to fall into a dream where he was back at Grimmauld place, searching the familiar, disgusting rooms for something without quite knowing what it was. Then he finally opened the kitchen and Regulus was bleeding on the floor like he had been less than a week ago in the Potters flat, but he couldn’t get to him because his Mother was there, screaming and screaming and raising her wand in his face. And Sirius was yelling back, trying to get past her because Regulus had turned into Remus. Then his Mother was grabbing him and pushing her wand into his face and there was a flash of light and Sirius started awake with a gasp.

And bloody fuck his head hurt.

Sirius gave a groan. His heart was pounding, images from the dream flashing through his head as he retreated from the morning. A warm body was curled beside him, and Sirius had one arm thrown protectively over the other figure as he did his very best to hide from the light coming through the curtains, burying his face into a familiar shoulder as the sun tried to physically assault his retina.

Remus slept better than he had in a while, the warm body next to his helping him relax. Even Sirius wrapping his limbs around him and stealing the covers didn’t bother him. When morning came, or he presumed it was morning because he was waking up, he was pulled out of sleep by Sirius very inconsiderately choosing to wake up. And not even quietly, because who ever woke up quietly with a hangover. He groaned and shifted to try and keep Sirius still by wrapping a leg around his.

“Too early,” he murmured, burrowing his face into Sirius’s neck. Contrary to popular assumptions, Remus Lupin was not a morning person. In fact, it practically took an unsticking charm to pry him away from sleep. Still, he knew Sirius wouldn’t settle until he got rid of his headache, so he sighed and groped for his wand on the nightstand. “Accio hangover potion,” he mumbled, then grabbed the potion without even looking as it flew through the air, passing it to Sirius. “Drink that and stop moving. It’s too early to be moving.”

They were an awkward mass of limbs, tangled together as Sirius seemed to try and crawl away from the abomination people called the sun. His stomach churned unpleasantly, his mouth was like a bloody ashtray and his shoulders ached almost as much as his head. He rather wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Sirius cracked open an eyelid to peer blearily around, before realizing with a jolt that was nearly too much for his abused stomach where he was. Remus’ room. And this was definitely Remus wrapped around him. But… what? They’d done this before, in their own quiet way, back at school. But… hang on….

A potion was being shoved at him, and Sirius sat up a little to unplug the flask and pour it down his neck like a man dying of thirst, glancing across at Remus as he did so before sinking back into the pillow, looping an arm back around the slender boy nestled against him as he waited for his head to clear. Had someone tried to stuff his skull with floo powder last night? Everything seemed… fuzzy. Grainy. It took a minute or two for Sirius to start to feel slightly human again.

And then he remembered.

Oh fuck. Sirius gaze snapped down onto Moony, who was curled up comfortably, his features softened by sleep in a way that pulled at Sirius’ heart. Guilt and confusion twisted in the dark haired boys gut. He might actually be the biggest dick on the planet. He remembered now. Barging in here, waking Remus up and, well… and then what Remus had said to him. But even with his brain feeling like it might explode, his heart pounding against his ribs and his stomach churning, the animagus couldn’t find it in him to wake the other boy up. So he lay there for a while, letting his arm go slowly dead under Remus’ comforting, warm weight as he thought. Tried to work whatever this was out as he vaguely traced his fingertips along the cruel lines decorating Remus’ shoulder.

And that made him really needed a cigarette. Which was a problem. Seeing as he had a werewolf dozing on his arm.

Sirius decided that now would be as a good time as any to take up Muggle magic. He’d just pull his arm out really fast, like those idiots did with tablecloths. Then he could go and have a fag and a coffee and clear his head by filling his lungs with poisonous smoke while he… worked out what was happening to him...

Sadly, despite Sirius’ master plan, it didn’t work out too well. Sirius yanked his arm out, was pulled off the edge of the bed by his own momentum and landed in a tangle of long limbs, crumpled hair and with a frankly disgusting string of swear words on the floor.

Alas, sleep apparently wasn’t in the cards for Remus, as Sirius apparently attempted some really complicated manoeuvre like sitting up and toppled off the bed. It was really too early to this, he thought to himself. Too early to be awake and too early for Sirius to be freaking out about some thing or another. Sitting up, he rubbed sleep from his eyes and just gave Sirius a look. This was surreal and awkward and part of him wanted to die a little, but he refused to be made uncomfortable in his own bed in his own bloody room when all he wanted was to be asleep.

“You’re going to say things,” he said, voice rough with sleepiness, “and I’m sure they’re absolutely fascinating things and I can’t wait to hear them. But you woke me up and I need caffeine or a fag before I deal with anything.” He paused. “And trousers. That would probably be best.” He got to his feet, not caring that he was in his boxers in front of Sirius, and pulled on a pair of jeans that were on the floor, not bothering to button them. Then he grabbed his cigarettes from the the nightstand and took one out, wandlessly lighting it and taking a drag.

Then he wandered out of the room to look for tea.

Ouch. Sirius had forgotten how grumpy Remus could be in the mornings. Biting his lip against all manner of retorts, the taller boy remained planted quite firmly on the floor, watching silently as Remus found some jeans – Sirius was still in the t-shirt and jeans he’d slept in – lit a cigarette apparently just to make him jealous, and grumbled out of the room in the direction of their kitchen.

Right. Well. Fantastic. Sirius levered himself to his feet, rubbing his elbow where he’d jarred it on his dramatic exit from the bed and taking a deep breath before loping after him. He could do this. He was Sirius Black – social genius. Ish. Well, either that or he was a genius at barrelling into things with no plan whatsoever, but with a remarkable amount of enthusiasm. But who was to say that wasn’t better?

Striding into the kitchen to where Remus was making tea, Sirius came up behind him and planted a hand firmly on the counter on either side of the other man, effectively trapping him between the side and his own body. “Moony…” he started, dragging out the nickname. Sirius ducked down a little, getting on eye level with Remus. “Are you angry with me?”

Thankfully magic made tea much quicker to prepare. He heated the water with a spell and waited while the tea steeped, and then Sirius was behind him and way too close. With a sigh, Remus tilted his head back so it was on Sirius’s shoulder and turned his face to look at him. “No, Padfoot,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not angry with you. You’ve known me long enough to know I hate mornings with a passion. I’m angry with the time of day, not you. Promise.”

Pushing away from Sirius, he took a drag from his cigarette, then stuck it in Sirius’s mouth for the other man to smoke so that he could get his nicotine fix, and got two mugs out for tea. Pouring the tea into both mugs, he added too much milk and sugar to Sirius’s and left his own alone. He took a sip and sighed contentedly. Tea, he thought to himself, was the work of godly creatures who should ever be praised for their marvelous genius.

Stealing his cigarette back, he took another drag and sat down at the table to drink his tea. Hopefully, they would make it through the morning without too much uncomfortable awkwardness. He doubted that would be the case, but one could dream. “How’s your headache?” he asked.

Oh, well. At least he wasn’t mad at him. Sirius smirked across at Remus as he rested his head briefly on his shoulder, feeling a flare of something burn briefly in his chest at the contact. The the animagus stepped back, allowing Remus to exit his temporary prison and making an odd ‘mfft!’ noise as the cigarette was shoved between his lips. Well, thank Merlin for that. Sirius took a lungful of lovely smoke, holding it in his chest for a moment before letting it flow out in a plume that he sent up towards the ceiling , lifting the cigarette to take another drag. Sadly, Remus chose that moment to nick the thing back. You wouldn’t have thought he had a packet of the things. Sirius accepted his own tea and hoisted himself up to sit on the sideboard, legs dangling.

“Gone!” He replied, rapping a knuckle against his temple as if to prove it. That potion was a bloody lifesaver. Sirius took a sip of milky, sweet tea, then cradled the mug precariously between both hands, swallowing thoughtfully. “Remus…” he asked again, gaze trained upwards in a thoughtful manner, although it was partly because he worried about what Remus’ expression would do in the next five seconds, and the idea of seeing something unpleasant made his stomach squirm. “…What are we doing?”

And he didn’t mean the cigarette and tea.

Remus avoided speaking for a long moment, just looking down at his tea to avoid having to look up at Sirius. He took a long sip as he contemplated and rejected a number of possible responses to the question. Drinking tea, obviously. Dealing with your hangover so you won’t spend the morning bitching. Keeping me from sleeping. Possibly being very stupid. I don’t have a fucking clue. None of them really worked, and finally he gave the most honest answer he could, not really thinking, just speaking.

“Right now? We’re doing our best to avoid dealing with the giant fucking elephant in the room, because we’re both idiots and we really don’t want to make a mess of this.” There. It was said. And so bluntly that even Sirius couldn’t twist it around to suit his desire to avoid anything approaching honesty. “Would you prefer we did something else?” he asked. “Because that would probably involve talking and feelings and I know your opinion on that, so I figured you probably wouldn’t want to do that if you could help it.”

“Huh.” Sirius nodded gravely, taking another sip of tea and nodding thoughtfully as he swallowed. A gentle plume of steam wafted upwards from his cup, twisting in the light that came through the window. Beyond that pane of glass, Sirius knew there was a war raging. Closer to a massacre, actually. But right now, in this kitchen, it wasn’t worrying him. Not as much as the cocktail of emotions twisting through him, hidden behind that carefully constructed mask Sirius always wore. Confusion, need, fear… He swept his dark hair back off his face, slipping down from his perch and leaning back against the side instead. Even this early, Sirius had too much energy pent up in him to stay in one position for long. One foot tapped erratically on the tiled floor.

“That talking about feelings is best reserved for soppy idiots like Prongs?” he checked, cocking one eyebrow teasingly. “We could do it in a manly way, I suppose. With spitting and punching. Or you could just stop over-thinking.” Because thinking was the problem here, he decided. It was making him analyse his feelings and making them that much more confusing and keeping him back from doing what he actually wanted. Which was half running from the room and hiding in some bar with an attractive stranger for a distraction and half snogging Remus senseless. Which, actually, weren’t really two things he could do at the same time. But that was a bridge he’d cross when he got there.

Moving again, Sirius loped over to sit on the table Remus was sat at, crossing his legs as he placed himself neatly in the middle of the tabletop. The dark haired boy planted his chin in his hand as he smiled crookedly down on Remus, the expression the exact same one as he’d used when he was fifteen and trying to convince the other that breaking into Honeydukes was actually a bloody good idea.

Remus kept his focus on his tea, knowing it was ridiculous of them to be caught up in this emotional mess when people were dying outside every day. But there was nothing they could do about the situation outside, and there was no reason to pretend life wasn’t still happening. If they stopped their lives all together, that just meant to things outside were winning. Picking up the cup, he drank silently, then brought his cigarette back to his mouth. He could taste Sirius on it, and that just made him feel more confused.

“Something like that, yes,” Remus said with a roll of his eyes. Then Sirius spoke again and he considered the suggestions for a moment before he spoke. “Well...I would prefer this didn’t devolve into a fist fight, if it’s all the same to you. I would really hate to have to kick your arse.” The second part was what gave him pause. He could stop thinking and just accept that they both wanted something physical, leave out the emotions entirely and just take something he wanted for as long as he could have it. But Remus had always been cerebral to a fault and he couldn’t just take his mind out of the equation. He thought about things. It was what he did. He thought and analysed and over-thought. And if Sirius didn’t want that, it meant he didn’t want Remus to be himself. Which meant he probably didn’t really want him. “That’s like asking you or James to use a bit of common sense,” he said finally.

Then Sirius sat down in front of him and the light was hitting him in a way that made him look terribly attractive and Remus couldn’t stand it. He was tired of Sirius kissing him and messing with his head and being the one making up all the steps in this strange dance they were doing. “Here’s the thing,” he said shakily. getting to his feet. “You kissed me. Not with the mistletoe because I can’t blame you for that, but you kissed me after that. And then you did it again last night, and I know you were drunk but I don’t care because you still kissed me. And you can’t just keep going and kissing me like...like it’s something that you can just do and carry on like it’s nothing. Because it’s not nothing! And I think...or I hope I’ve made my feelings clear, but it’s hard to tell with you. So I guess I’m going to have to just spell it out for you.”

He took a deep breath. “You drive me mental,” he said, “and you’re a complete and utter prat and sometimes I really just want to punch you. Hard. But sometimes...sometimes I’d really rather not. Because I’d rather do other things. Like kiss you. And that terrifies me a little because I’ve seen how you are with the girls who fall for your charms and I don’t want to be like them...because you’re my best friend too and I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost that. And I don’t know where this has come from, and it doesn’t mean...it doesn’t have to mean anything, I guess. I just...” Trailing off, he stepped into Sirius’s space, kissing him. It wasn’t a simple or chaste kiss. It had intent and he tried to make it say everything he wanted to. Then he stepped back. “So...that’s all I really have to say on the matter. Because there's nothing else really to...except...it's up to you now...quaffle's in your court and whatnot. That was just a kiss...and like I said, sometimes I really want to punch you...and you're lucky I picked the other option."

In the course of Remus’ awkward, stumbled speech Sirius was called a prat and told that Remus wanted to punch him hard in his lovely face. Which didn’t seem like a normal thing for someone to say to the person who’d slept in his bed last night, but there you go. And then the tone changed and Sirius lifted his chin from where it was propped in the well of his palm, dropping his hand into his lap as a frown drifted across his features, wiping the heart melting smile away. His stomach lurched painfully, and his chest ached, but Sirius kept the mask in place, setting his jaw and fixing his dark eyes stubbornly onto Remus’ blue. Because it was different hearing it now, in the morning light, in their cold and real kitchen, especially compared to the warm, sleepy and intoxicating gloom of last night. It was real here. And it was bloody terrifying. Perhaps not in a bad way, he wasn’t too sure, but still as frightening as shit.

Then the thoughts, those horrible, meddling, unpleasant thoughts were pushed from his mind as Remus’ lips met his. Sirius craned his neck a little from his position sat cross-legged on the tabletop, his initial shock vanishing as he returned the kiss. Moony really was full of surprises this week, and the animagus really wasn’t complaining right now, because it was quite hard to think of anything else when he had the taste of strong tea and smell of Remus’ bed still lingering in the boy’s hair and a cigarette burning out somewhere in the room. Then Moony pulled away, leaving Sirius looking a little bemused for a moment before a rather smug smirk coiled around the corners of his mouth and he quirked an eyebrow slyly.

Then the pressure was suddenly on him. And Sirius was quite sure he felt everyone in the universe suddenly turn their attention onto him, to see what he’d do. Normally that was quite good. He liked being in charge usually, liked being centre of attention. But this… this mattered. And, as was Sirius’ usual reaction whenever things got too sensible and real, he flicked through his mind for a joking comment.

“God forbid you spill your tea in the punching process,” he agreed, nodding in a way he hoped was a wise manner, although it was ruined by the teasing tone that laced his words. Then he realized there wasn’t really a way out of this other than shoving past Remus and literally legging it out the door, which seemed a bit dramatic even for him. And he still had half a cup of tea to drink. Sirius dropped Remus’ stare, tongue darting out to nervously (Nervous. He was nervous.) lick his lips, still tasting the lingering taste of the other boy. “I… oh, fuck, I don’t know Remus. You confuse the shit out of me. I don’t… What do you want? You want us to be… what? Together?”

Bloody hell. How had Remus Lupin of all people managed to turn the ever charismatic and charming Sirius Black into a stumbling idiot? Why couldn’t they go back to the kissing? He was good at the kissing. Bloody good, actually, in his own humble opinion. Reluctantly, Sirius ripped his gaze up to face Remus again, skirting forward until he slipped off the table and was standing back at his full height again. Carefully, almost as if Remus really would punch him, Sirius reached out and wrapped his fingers through the other boys, feeling warmth spread up his arm. “You know I’m shit at this. Impossibly shit at… all this crap. I’m not James. I’ve never… Just… tell me what you want, okay? Tell me and then I can think about it.”

Some people might have been offended at Sirius making a flippant comment. Remus, however, knew him well enough to understand that he only made those sort of comments when he was avoiding discussing his emotions. And that didn’t bother him, not really. He knew that emotions were a difficult matter for Sirius, raised as he had been in a house where the expression of one’s feelings was strongly discouraged. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sirius,” he said dryly, a small smile playing at his lips as he took a sip of said tea. “I’m more than capable of punching you without spilling my tea. You really shouldn’t underestimate me so completely.”

He was a little worried that Sirius might just up and bolt, which he really didn’t want, but then he was speaking again. Asking what Remus wanted, as if he hadn’t been completely clear about his feelings in that ridiculous and slightly pathetic speech. As if he hadn’t showed all his cards already. And he began to wonder if punching him might have been the better option after all. After all, with the strange way he interpreted obvious statements and gestures, punching him might have made him see that Remus was in love with him. Like a valentine in prat-speak.

The real question wasn’t so much what he wanted as what he was willing to ask for. How far he was willing to push this, to push Sirius. If he asked for too much, Sirius might bolt. And things between them would continue on their slow downward slide until their friendship crumbled under the weight of this thing between them. So he couldn’t push. He couldn’t ask for what he actually wanted, for Sirius to be with him the way he wanted. “I want,” he started finally, then paused. He still wasn’t sure what to say. “I want...whatever you’re willing to give me.” It was weak and pathetic and he wanted to scream at himself. But he didn’t know how to ask for things. He never had. “What I want doesn’t really matter here. Like I said...it’s your move now. And I can’t decide for you.”

Sirius rather wanted to grab Remus by those bony shoulders and shake him. Because the stupid little prat was so bloody clever and infuriatingly good at not giving completely straight answers. He didn’t want to know Remus wanted ’whatever Sirius was willing to give.’ How was that in any way helpful? That was so bloody far from helpful it was… well, unhelpful. Sirius was the kind of person who needed to have a set target, things spelt out for him obviously, or he’d take them and twist them to suit his own needs. And he didn’t want to do that, because it had already been established somewhere in these mad few hours that Sirius’ ideas of his own needs were stupid and hurting Remus and he should not be allowed to make decisions like this because he just fucked them up. That was a well known fact. He was too impulsive and a great deal of the time did his thinking with a piece of his body that was completely separate from his brain.

Rather than immediately say something stupid, Sirius tugged on the hand linking him to Remus, pulling his best friend into him and folding his arms around him. The other boy was a couple of inches shorter than Sirius himself, and fitted quite neatly against his shoulder. And he was warm and solid and Sirius decided this was much better than talking about things, just standing in silence in the kitchen, Remus’ fair strands of hair tickling Sirius’ cheek and jaw. He would have been happy if they’d done this all morning. But then again, at the same time he was so bloody confused and uncertain he felt a bit like throwing something, or at least hexing someone’s tongue to stick to the roof of their mouth.

He didn’t want to hurt Remus. And he was pretty sure he was going to, even if he gave in and promised Remus everything, he’d find a way to arse it up. And then what? If he hurt him again he wouldn’t expect forgiveness. Hell, he wouldn’t have forgiven him the first time. Even Sirius was surprised when his voice came out, muffled a little by Remus close against him, and he quickly tried to erase the slightly desperate, pleading note that had suddenly decided to grace his words. “Can’t we just… see how it goes? At least until all this is over?”

Because that was about as much planning as Sirius gave anything, and it was all he had right now.

He had said whatever Sirius wanted, and he had meant it. Even though it was vague and open-ended and would probably end badly, and actually badly was most likely a gigantic understatement. He knew all that, and he knew he should save the both of them from the pain that would inevitably come from this, but he couldn’t do it. And Sirius was wrapped around him and so warm and safe and everything felt too right when they were like this, and he could almost make himself believe that it could work. And at this point, they’d hurt each other either way, so why not do it by doing something rather than not doing anything? Or maybe Sirius’s complete lack of logic and reason was rubbing off on him.

“Yeah,” he said, resting his head against Sirius’s shoulder. “Yeah, I guess we can. At least until this is over. I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you...and...I just don’t know what to do about this.”

Sirius’ heart seemed to be hammering against his ribs, probably trying to break out and leg it before Sirius subjected it to anything that remotely resembled proper emotion. Sirius was stretched almost to breaking point by the events of these last few days as it was, losing so many people so quickly, and he was pretty sure that with this on top of it he’d go completely mad. But it was easy not to think of that right now and just focus on this wonderfully simple moment, wracked as it was with confusion and fear, stood with Remus in their slightly grubby kitchen. Sirius fought back against his rebelling head, trying to buck its sudden, out-of-character need to think and instead chuckling a little and ducking his head to bury the low laugh in Remus’ shoulder. “Remus bloody Lupin not able to tell me what to do,” he teased gently.”Someone should inform the Prophet.”

He stood there for a little longer, reluctant to pull away and force himself to face the rest of the world. But he knew he had to, and eventually Sirius sighed and peeled away from the other boy. “I need a shower. I think I have tequila or something in my hair, and that is a tragedy which must be rectified...” He pulled a little face, sweeping the aforementioned locks away from his eyes. “Then I wanted to check on Harry. You gonna come?”

Pretend everything to do with this was normal. Ish. What else were they supposed to do?

“Contrary to what you may think,” Remus said with a small smile, “I’m not actually all-knowing.” He paused for a second. “Just mostly.” He wasn’t sure how the conversation had taken all the turns it had, or how they’d ended up here like this with him agreeing to Sirius’s probably terrible plan, but somehow it had and they had and he had and he probably needed to be committed right bloody now. All he knew was that he’d never really been able to say no to Sirius, even when he knew he probably ought to. And that alone should have him running away from this, but it didn’t. They’d carry on until this either made sense or he went up in flames like Icarus getting too close to the sun, more likely the latter than the former.

Sighing, he released Sirius and nodded. “Shower sounds like a brilliant plan,” he said, sniffing himself. “I think you got some of your drunk on me when we were sleeping last night.” He shook his head when Sirius asked if he was going to come along and gave him a smile that was almost entirely real. “You go on,” he said. “It will be good for the two of you to have some time to talk. And anyway, I have some things to do.” He touched Sirius’s arm, as if to soften any sting from the small rejection. “You know...you can come into my room any time. Any time at all.”

Sirius feigned a look of offence. “You saying I stink, Lupin?” he challenged, before a wicked grin cracked his features, and he lifted his eyebrows meaningfully in the other boys direction. After all, tact was never one of Sirius’ strong points, and this was the kind of tense situation which he always said could be improved by a good old sex joke. Or at least a nod towards some kind of filth. He had, after all, been awake for at least half an hour. “I’m going to leave all the jokes about getting stuff on you while we’re sleeping. That’s how bloody mature I am these days.”

There was a moment when a mild shiver of disappointment passed over the taller boy’s features, then Remus’ hand brushed against his arm, and Sirius shoved the emotion off. He didn’t mind going to see Harry on his own, truth be told. Sirius was just as fond of the kid now that Harry was middle aged as he had been when he was a month old. And his godson was so similar to James he didn’t need to work hard to figure out Harry was worried Sirius would go get himself cut up in some moment of mad recklessness. Not a completely unimaginable incidence, but he still hated that Harry worried about him

The animagus was dragged from his thoughts at Remus’ next words. A small smile, but one that was more affectionate than Sirius would usually ever let himself show, crossed his face. Then, without thinking, he was leaning in and pressing his lips briefly against Remus’ forehead, breathing him in and holding the moment in his lungs for a moment, before finally pulling back and quirking an eyebrow teasingly. Then, without another word, Sirius bounded casually out of the kitchen, humming something by David Bowie under his breath and leaving Remus to his rapidly cooling tea.