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Sirius and Remus are arguing. It’s not something they do often— maybe two or three times a year— and it’s never been explosive like this. Their disagreements always end in talking it out after calming down separately, never fighting.
Now, though, they’re screaming.
It started over nothing. Sirius tracked mud and grease through the house with his heavy boots when he didn’t take them off, and Remus made a half-serious, sarcastic comment about it. Not paying complete attention, exhausted from a long day of work, and having a bad day, Sirius had snapped back with something too aggressive for the partial-joke. It had gone on in that manner, every response getting more and more heated, dragging up every past disagreement and gripe.
At some point, they both lost it. Sirius has reverted to his quiet, cold, vicious side, overly defensive, every word out of his mouth sounding like a growl. Remus has gotten loud and somewhat whiny, sounding a lot like he’s crying (which he’s pretty close to, anyways— he’s an angry crier).
“You’re such a prick, Merlin’s ass,” Remus yells, exasperated and pissed. Sirius scoffs like an asshole and rolls his eyes. “Why can’t you take anything seriously!? Why can’t you just, I don’t know, just fucking talk about shit before I have to come and save your arse from your little mental breakdowns!?” he screams. It’s a low blow, weaponizing Sirius’ severe, long-term mental health struggles, but it doesn’t seem as bad as it is while they’re arguing.
“Oh, like you’re any better,” Sirius hisses, teeth gritted, leaning closer. It’s not scary, it’s Sirius, but he’s still half a foot taller and made up of thick muscle, so it is a little bit intimidating. “How often do I have to clean up your messes? You can’t cook, can’t work, and can’t even keep your own head on straight. Don’t come at me for not talking when I’m the one keeping us housed and fed,” he laughs cruelly. Remus bristles further. His unemployment is entirely a side effect of his lycanthropy, and has always been a soft spot on account of how useless it makes him feel. Sirius likes cooking, anyways, and he can cook enough to get by!
“Okay, sure, maybe I’m not the pinnacle of mental health, but come on! Don’t tell me I’m worse than you with that shit. When was the last time you got through a day without some kind of panic attack or flashback or just flipping the fuck out over jack shit!?” Remus yells. Sirius makes a face, and Remus knows he’s hit a soft spot. It makes him feel oddly vindicated.
“And when was the last time you got through a day without whining and complaining about how your back hurts and your legs are so achey,” Sirius mocks him, voice going high with an obnoxious Welsh accent at the end. Remus grits his teeth, annoyed. “Honestly, you’re such a hypocrite. I carry you around and get you pain potions and do literally fucking everything for you with no complaints, but you’re bitching about me needing help? Come off it, Remus,” Sirius rolls his eyes, still looking infuriatingly calm, but there’s something in his eyes that gives away how ticked off he is.
“Y’know what, maybe I should go stay with Ma and Da,” Remus screams. Sirius’ eyes widen, and his face falls. “I bet you’d love that. You’d love not having to take care of me since I’m such a burden, huh?” he taunts, laughing. Sirius’ breathing has gotten very shallow suddenly, and he’s watching Remus with a look in his eyes that he’s never seen before.
“Please, no,” Sirius breathes, sounding genuinely terrified. All of the anger has drained from him, and he just seems worried, now. “Don’t— please, please don’t,” Remus has no idea what he’s pleading about, but it’s making his rage waver.
“What?” he says dumbly.
“Please don’t leave, Moony,” Sirius sniffles like he’s about to start crying. Remus is now torn between his anger and his mixture of confusion and concern over whatever is going on. He wants to argue, wants to win this fight, but something feels incredibly wrong. “Merlin, Remus, I’ll do anything— just— please, please, stay with me,” Sirius takes a shaky couple of steps closer him, a tear already on his cheek.
“Sirius, what are you on about?” Remus asks, incredulous. His husband seems seconds away from a breakdown over Remus telling him he’s going to stay with his parents for a night or two so they can cool down. Sure, he didn’t phrase it well, but this seems like a very strong reaction to that.
“I’ll be so good for you, I promise,” Sirius says, then does the most shocking he’s done all evening— gets on his knees in front of Remus like he’s begging, and, hell, does he ever sound like he is. “I’ll let you do whatever you want, just please, please, please, don’t go. Don’t leave me. Please, stay with me,” he pleas desperately, looking up at Remus with his shining silver eyes, wet with tears.
“Why are you on the floor?” Remus asks. He’s still too angry inside, too full of pride, to let it go, even though he knows he should. Something is clearly wrong, but he’s just too upset to drop it yet.
“Because I’m sorry,” Sirius states, closing the rest of the distance between them without getting up to grab the hem of Remus’ jumper. “I’m so, so sorry, Moony. Please, don’t leave. I’ll never wear my boots inside again— hell, I’ll get rid of them for you. I’ll do anything. I’ll let you do anything, okay? Anything you want. I won’t tell,” he hiccups, tears streaming. Guilt hits Remus hard, then, when he finally meets Sirius’ gaze. He looks so hurt, so miserable.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Remus tries again, hands hovering awkwardly by his sides, not knowing if he should hug Sirius or keep them to himself. Sometimes his husband likes being held, and other times it makes him puke, so there’s no real way to tell, especially not while he’s doing… whatever this is.
“Anything you want to do to me, I’ll let you do. Anything you want. I won’t tell anyone,” Sirius says it like a promise. He reaches up with his other hand to hold Remus’ jumper. “I’ve been through it all and no one knows some of it, I can keep it a secret for you. You can do anything. You can cheat, if you’d like. You can hit me, you can yell, you can curse me. Whatever you want, whenever you want, and I’ll keep my mouth shut, I swear,” he sobs, sniffling, his big, scarred, callused hands trembling with how hard they’re gripping the hem of Remus’ jumper.
Remus just stares, wide eyed, not sure what to say. He feels completely overwhelmed, trying to string a coherent sentence together but unable to find even a single word. Sirius, evidently, does not take this well.
“You could beat me,” Sirius suggests breathlessly, shaking, falling deeper and deeper into panic. He seems to be scrambling, looking for anything he can say to fix this. “You— you could rape me,” he offers quietly, clearly a last resort offer. Remus feels like he might vomit. “You can use me for anything. Any kink or fantasy, I’ll do it. You can take everything out on me. Any anger or whatever. Anything you want, Moony, anything,” he chokes, unable to control his sobs and the heaving of his broad, muscled shoulders.
“S-Sirius,” Remus manages to force out of his throat. The man in question shuts his mouth immediately, watching Remus with nothing but love, adoration, and complete and utter terror written on his face. He looks so… vulnerable. It’s unnerving. Sirius is always so strong, so capable, Remus has never seen him fragile like this.
“Anything you want, Moony,” Sirius says shakily. “Anything,” he repeats. Remus is seconds away from throwing his guts up at the thought of doing any of the shit he knows Sirius means when he says ‘anything’. The list he gave— cheat, hit, yell, curse, beat, rape, use— is insanely dark and horribly disgusting. Remus would never forgive himself if he hurt Sirius like that.
“I don’t— Sirius, no,” Remus whimpers, finally putting one gentle hand on Sirius’ cheeks, the other on his shoulder. The animagus flinches like he fully expects to be hit, but doesn’t move away, just allows it. Remus’ heart drops when he realizes that it’s not because he trusts the werewolf, it’s because he’s willing to take anything for the sake of keeping this.
Remus knows that Sirius has been through hell. He knows that Walburga and Orion Black were abusive to seemingly no end: screaming matches that ended in threats of murder and encouragement to take his own life; brutal beatings and curses that sometimes resulted in him unconscious on the floor; and even two of the three Unforgivable Curses. He has nerve damage, chronic pain, and severe insomnia, all of which are aftereffects of the physical abuse he suffered (though, the insomnia is simultaneously a trauma symptom).
On top of all of that, when he still lived with the House of Black, a close family friend had began molesting him, which had quickly devolved into sexual abuse. Eventually, a few others had gotten involved, and it had been a group of four (all of whom Sirius refuses to name, much to the dismay of Remus, who would quite like to have words with them) passing him around like some kind of toy. It worsened the damages to his body and made his already tenuous grip on his mental health that much looser.
He’s had multiple suicide attempts in the past, including a few that landed him in St. Mungo’s, and has always been easy to set off. He falls apart over things Remus never would’ve expected, but reacts like he’s built for it when things actually start to spiral. He’s dealt with depression his whole life, and acts like his existence is something unimportant that can be risked for no real reason other than because he can. He rapidly switches between hating himself and believing he deserves nothing, and thinking he’s better than people around him. Everything about him is like whiplash, a startling juxtaposition.
“I’ll never hurt you,” Remus says, and it comes out as little more than a whisper. He can feel hot tears running down his own cheeks, nowhere near the torrent streaming down Sirius’ face, which is absolutely shattering what’s left of his broken heart after the ranting.
“I wouldn’t tell anyone if you did,” Sirius says back, matching his volume. He looks so genuine, so open, that Remus feels a spike of anger at everyone who dared make him feel like that is an acceptable way to be treated.
“Sirius, I don’t want to hurt you,” Remus says, a little bit exasperated. Sirius’ lower lip quivers.
“If you did, I’d let you, and I’d be happy to do it,” Sirius offers a watery smile, sniffles. “I love you so much, I’d take it all and then some for you,” he says. Remus’ head spins at the idea of how much Sirius would let him get away with just because his horrible past has convinced him that abuse is okay depending on the circumstances.
“That’s not how love works,” Remus informs him gently, running a thumb over his cheekbone. “People who love you will never hurt you, Annwyl, and you don’t deserve them doing that,” he sniffles, hating this is a conversation they need to have. He shouldn’t have to tell his husband that it’s not normal or acceptable be treated as less than human, less than sentient, just because he loves the person treating him that way.
“I don’t care. I’d still let you,” Sirius states. Remus doesn’t understand how Sirius can be completely comfortable with the idea of being mistreated. It’s sickening to think that he has so much power over Sirius. He wishes he didn’t. He wishes that Sirius could love himself more, think himself good enough to be cared for.
“Oh, Sirius,” Remus sighs. This is a losing argument, he can already tell. Sirius is in a strange, painful headspace and Remus doubts there’s any hope of reasoning with him at the moment, he’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Peering up at him anxiously, Sirius’ forced smile fades and he glances down at his hands, then moves closer to wrap his arms around Remus’ waist.
“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” he says. He sounds scared. Remus knows it’s because he is, because he doesn’t want to be hurt, because he fully expects to be abused but isn’t willing to leave to avoid it. “Anything, my Moon,” Sirius whispers. Remus can tell that he means it, which is only making this whole situation worse. “Just… just stay with me. Don’t leave. Please.”
“Sirius, I’m not leaving you,” Remus says, a little confused. “I never was,” he adds. Sirius looks up at him, equally confused. The silence draws out, nothing but eye-contact and the heavy weight of some sort of misunderstanding that Remus isn’t sure the exact moment of, but knows it was bad.
“You said you were gonna go stay with Hope and Lyall,” Sirius says finally, slowly, like the words hurt him to speak. Realization dawns. Sirius, with his deep-rooted fear of abandonment, specifically of Remus leaving him, had assumed that, in the heat of the argument, the werewolf was going to permanently stay with his parents. All of this sobbing and begging and offerings were because Sirius was so desperate for Remus not to divorce him that he was willing to sacrifice his health, his pride, and his body.
“Merlin, Baby, no,” Remus says urgently, cupping Sirius cheeks. The older man’s eyes widen and his head tilts to the side. “No, I just— hell, Cariad, I meant I would go stay with them for, like, a day or two so we could calm down and talk it out, not leave,” he explains, and Sirius stares up at him like he hung the very stars he was named after.
“You’re not leaving?” Sirius asks, hopeful. Remus wants to punch himself for not being clearer.
“No, never,” Remus promises. Tears start flowing down Sirius’ cheeks even faster, and he buries his face in Remus’ stomach, crying. Remus can only hope it’s out of relief.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sirius repeats, muffled, into Remus’ abdomen, shoulders rising and falling in time with heavy sobs, tears soaking through fabric, hands balling into shaking fists. Remus’ heart aches for his husband’s pain. He wishes that a way to take that hurt away existed, that he knew how to fix this, that he could reverse the painful effects of Sirius’ horrible childhood and teenage years.
“I’m never going to hurt you, Darling,” Remus says, petting Sirius’ hair and holding the back of his scalp. “Not now, not ever. You’re my best friend, my husband, my everything. I will always to everything in my power to keep you safe, happy, and loved. You are the one I love the most in this world, and I’m not leaving you for anything. I promise, I’ll be here for you for the rest of our lives,” he murmurs, ticked off at his own body’s limitations and pains that prevent him from sitting down on the floor to pull his partner into his arms. Right now, he wants, more than anything, to hold Sirius until he’s feeling better.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Sirius babbles, still bawling like a little kid who just scuffed his knee. Remus wants to kiss him better, wants to cuddle him in, spoon him like he’s not nearly twice the werewolf’s size and one of the most powerful, dangerous wix in the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius doesn’t like being cuddled very much, he much prefers doing the cuddling, but, when he’s in the mood for it, he’s always the sweetest thing in the world. He never asks for it when he wants to be held, but Remus can almost always tell, and he feels like now might be one of those rare times.
“Annwyl, would you want to go to our bed? We could cuddle, if you’d like,” Remus suggests, really hoping Sirius will take the offer. He’d like to hold the man properly, not like this. The animagus sniffles, peers up at him, looking all too much like a kicked puppy, and Remus wants to make him smile like he did earlier, when they were cuddling and laughing about something their seven year old godson, Harry, did. Sirius scrubs his cheek against the jumper roughly, and Remus wants to tell him not to, to be gentle with himself, because he’s clearly so fragile right now.
“That… that sounds nice, yeah,” Sirius mumbles, nodding as best as he can without pulling away. Remus smiles down at him, wrapping one hand around Sirius’ bicep to tug him up. He goes willingly, stumbling to his feet and then wincing when he puts pressure on his right leg. Remus’ hands fly to Sirius’ hips like he could support the much larger man if he actually were to fall, like Sirius wouldn’t literally crush him.
“Are you alright, Bach?” Remus asks worriedly, watching Sirius’ face and trying not to get upset at his parents for both making Sirius feel like he can’t express pain and giving him such a high tolerance for it.
“My leg’s a little numb, ‘s fine,” Sirius mumbles, rubbing his eye with the back of his hands, looking horribly pitiful. Pouting with his eyelashes clumped together and hands shaking, Remus can’t stand the fact that Sirius’ pain looks kind of adorable. He shouldn’t think that Sirius hurting is anything but horrible and something he should do his very best to stop.
“To bed, then, yeah?” Remus prompts, and Sirius nods his assent.
They walk up to their bedroom hand-in-hand, Sirius trailing behind Remus like a lost puppy. Once they’re there, Remus changes Sirius into a tee shirt and sweatpants. He’s already dressed in his pyjamas, he hasn’t gone out all day, has just been doing housework, so Remus doesn’t have to put on new clothes. Once they get in bed, Sirius sits there for a little, still teary eyed and sniffling, staring at Remus, hesitant and expectant.
Remus, after a moment, sits up from where he’d been laying down, waiting for Sirius to come closer. “What’s up, Cariad?” Remus questions, frowning and confused. The other man makes a little whimpering sound, looking anywhere but Remus, and his shoulders hunch up, head ducked, clearly nervous.
“We, er,” Sirius goes quiet for a moment, bites his full lower lip, and wraps his toned arms around his body. “We’re here to cuddle, right?” Sirius checks, looking like he wants to crawl under the bed and hide like Remus used to during thunder storms. Remus wants to be Sirius’ version of the safety the pillows and nightlight under his bed offered. He wonders if Sirius even knows what that feels like, if he ever got to feel safe during his childhood.
“Yeah, we’re here to cuddle,” Remus confirms, nodding. Sirius still looks subdued, and Remus recognizes the expression on his face pretty quickly. He opens his arms for his partner. “Would you like to come over?” he asks with a small smile, leaning back to give Sirius plenty of space to occupy. Stilling for a little while, Sirius fidgets with his fingers and eyeing Remus anxiously.
“Is that okay?” he asks quietly, his voice wavering in a way that makes Remus know he’s pretty close to tears again, but is holding back for some reason. Why he feels like he needs permission to be held by his husband, Remus doesn’t know, but he’s positive it’s the fault of the House of Black and that makes him angry.
“Of course that’s okay, Annwyl,” Remus encourages, and that’s all it takes. Sirius immediately crawls closer, face landing in the nook between Remus’ neck and shoulder, arms winding around the werewolf’s waist, long legs bracketing his hips. Remus fastens his arms around Sirius’ body and rests his chin on the other man’s shoulder. “Oh, Darling,” Remus coos, trailing his hands up and down Sirius’ back.
Sirius sobs, hard, and his fists tighten against Remus’ back. He dissolves into hiccups and sobs, crumbling into a puddle of a broken, vulnerable man. He pulls himself closer and closer, clutching at Remus so desperately, like a scared puppy. Remus holds one palm against the back of Sirius’ neck, holding him tightly.
“Moony, ‘m sorry,” Sirius cries, whiny and uncontrolled, like he’s lost his grip on his emotions. It’s not a normal thing for Sirius, who is usually in complete mastery of his feelings, to start loudly sobbing with no grasp on his volume. It’s painful to watch, knowing that there’s a limit on how much Remus can do to help him. “I’m so sorry, Moony, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whimpers.
“What are you sorry for, my Star?” Remus asks, carding his thin fingers through Sirius’ sweaty curls. Nothing that’s happened thus far has been Sirius’ fault— save the dirty footprints, but, really, that’s not that big a deal, and those are nothing to be apologizing this profusely for.
“I’m causing problems and I’m sorry,” Sirius hiccups, drawing out the ‘sorry’ with a sob. He sounds completely miserable, genuinely shattered and stripped raw, like everything he’s been through has bubbled up to the surface and he’s suffering through it all once. Watching Sirius break as though he’s porcelain is always so unnerving.
“No, Sirius, no,” Remus chides gently. “You haven’t done anything. You’re brilliant, my Love, you have nothing to apologize for. It’s okay. If anything, I should be sorry for completely overreacting and blowing our whole fight out of proportion. You just tracked some dirt through the kitchen, it’s not that big a deal. We’re magic, we can clean it up in a second.”
“I shouldn’t have caused problems, I should’ve been better, I should’ve stopped wearing my fucking boots inside the first time you said to stop,” Sirius cries. He speaks through gritted teeth, giving it all a tense, growling quality.
“Not everything in the world is your fault,” Remus says quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of Sirius’ head. “You did your best and that’s all you need to do. I’m proud of you, and I love you, Cariad.”
After a beat of silence, Sirius sniffles, then whispers: “I’ll still do anything you want.”
Remus resigns himself to the fact that they’ll be having a long conversation about this tomorrow, when Sirius is in his right mind.