Work Text:
Remus is nervous.
He’s been gone for nearly a year, fighting in a war for reasons he can scarcely remember. He’s sore, and so tired, but his plane is minutes away from landing in London—into the magical terminal at Heathrow, where he knows Sirius will be waiting.
He keeps replaying the night he left in his mind—laying in bed with Sirius as they desperately clung to one another, both of them shaking in fear and with a sort of borrowed loss. They were both seeing the long days and months before them where they would be apart—neither wanting to think about what would happen if Remus didn’t make it home, but both unable to think of anything else.
When the hour for him to leave came all too soon—as he stood at the threshold of their apartment, his bag hanging heavy on his shoulder—it was Padfoot’s big, sad eyes he said goodbye to, not Sirius’. It hurt, a bit—but he understood.
Since they were kids, Sirius has often reverted to Padfoot when his feelings become too big—when he can't express the enormity of everything he's feeling as a human. When what he's feeling hurts too deeply, or his happiness can't be contained. It's for that reason, when the plane lands and Remus finally steps off, he’s not surprised that it's not Sirius he sees—but Padfoot.
Oh, Padfoot.
Overcome with emotion, he stumbles as he rushes down the steps of the plane, flooded with sudden relief as Padfoot breaks into a run towards him from across the tarmac. Remus drops to his knees, his bag and nerves forgotten as he suddenly has an armful of the dog (person) he loves most in the entire world.
"Padfoot. Oh, Padfoot. Good boy, I—I missed you. Oh, I missed you." He sobs into Padfoot's dark fur, stroking a loving hand up and down his back, relishing the feeling of familiar coarse, dark fur running between his fingers.
There were moments during the war where he thought he'd never have this—where he thought he’d never see Sirius (or Padfoot) ever again. Moments hidden in abandoned buildings, not-so-friendly fire and unforgivable curses being hurled over his head, Death Eaters just feet away. Moments where he thought, how could I possibly survive this? Moments where he was sure he was done for.
But now, here he is—Padfoot wiggling around frantically in his arms as his tail wags uncontrollably, snuffling into his neck. Remus can't help it, he laughs wetly, "I'm happy to see you, too."
Padfoot moves back—feet tapping excitedly, and barking happily at the sound of Remus' laughter. This quickly turns into a whine of distress when he sees the tears still streaming steadily down Remus' cheeks. Without hesitation, Padfoot leaps up, paws on his shoulders, and licks all over his face, “It’s okay, they’re happy tears.” he laughs, and then a mumbled, “Gross, Padfoot—your breath.” as the dog licks over his lips. He pulls his face away, instead leaning forward and tugging Padfoot into his chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly—his laughter turning to shudders as he weeps in relief.
Later, when they're finally home—when Padfoot is Sirius once again, and they are finally able to properly embrace—they'll utter tearful, broken I love yous and fall into bed. It will be the start of the long process of what happens next. Of figuring out who he is now, and how to move forward in the shadow of darkness.
For now though, Remus doesn’t let himself worry about that. He doesn’t worry about whether Sirius will look at him differently, or let himself grieve all the time they both lost—allowing himself this moment, where he’s not a soldier returned from war, but just a boy and his dog.