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Remus starts to notice it after he turns thirty-nine. It hits him one morning while he's getting ready for work, halfway through shaving his chin, curls, wet from his shower, pushed back out of his face. He stops, razor halfway to his face, and sets it down, peering at his reflection in the sink mirror. There's something off. With his free hand, he rubs at his temple, stroking up the curve of it until it touches the hairline, which looks different. It takes him a long moment to figure out why, and once he does he feels a cold fist grip his stomach.
His hair is thinning at the temples, where his greys are, and more than that, it seems to have receded, revealing more of his forehead. His breath hitches, mind immediately scrambling to figure out where it came from. Both his parents have full heads of hair, even now in their late sixties, and he doesn't remember his grandfather enough to know if it skipped a generation. Could it be stress? Teddy's a great kid, even being seventeen and a snarky teenager. His job? He gives his head a little shake to stop the spiraling of his thoughts, returning to shaving the scruff on his face, and tries to put it out of his mind.
It's hard when the first sight he sees once he pads into the kitchen is Sirius in his usual seat at the table, long, thick black hair pulled up into a bun without a single strand of grey. Breakfast is already set, and when Remus sits beside Sirius at the table, he's greeted by eyes that sparkle with delight.
"Good morning, love," Sirius says, nosing forward for a kiss that tastes like coffee and apple cinnamon. There are days when Remus still can't believe his luck, even after they've been married for nearly two decades, days where he can't help but search Sirius' clear gaze for any sign that he's about to come to his senses and head for the hills.
Remus leans in for another kiss, and Sirius huffs out a laugh against his lips, running fingers through Remus' curls. The gesture reminds Remus of his morning discovery and he inhales sharply, pulling back.
"What is it?" Sirius asks, brow furrowing as he searches Remus' face for any sign of discomfort. "Did I hurt you?"
"No, it's just," Remus curls in on himself a little, poking at his eggs with his fork. He takes a moment to gather the courage, then glances back up at Sirius. "I think my hair is thinning."
"And?" Sirius asks, cocking his head a bit, looking endearingly like a scruffy dog.
With a soft noise, Remus rubs a hand over his face. "And, it's too early. I'm—I'm not even forty."
"Loads of folks have receding hairlines in their thirties," Sirius says. "What's wrong with that?"
"It's—just—" Remus sputters, searching for the right words. "It's embarrassing, Sirius."
"It's not. So I get to see more of your lovely face, that's all that means." Sirius gently tucks a couple curls behind Remus' ear, fingers brushing the shell of it. He searches Remus' face, grey eyes intent and true as always. "You could go bald and still be beautiful to me."
Remus takes Sirius' hand, lifting his fingers to his lips and pressing a kiss to them. He holds them against his mouth for a long moment before he exhales, tension leaving his shoulders and lower back. "Hopefully we won't have to test that theory anytime soon."
Sirius hums, a crooked grin pulling at one side of his mouth. He retracts his hand and tugs on a curl. "I would miss these curls."
"Sirius, please," Remus grimaces, finally settling down enough to eat.
It's a beautiful sunny autumn day a half a year later, and he and Sirius have just finished moving Teddy into the dorms at his new university and are taking advantage of the weather to take a walk through the park near their home. It's a familiar walk, one Remus could probably do in his sleep now, and they're hand in hand, Sirius is wearing a soft pair of gloves because his hands are always freezing compared to Remus, who always runs a bit warm.
Sirius is humming a bit, idling at the bridge overlooking the small stream that cuts through the park. Remus leans against the railing beside him, shoulder to shoulder. The sun is warm on the back of Remus' head despite the season, and the feeling is pleasant. Here, with the man he loves, in their favorite park, during the nicest day of a usually foul season, Remus can't help but tuck the moment close.
"Can you believe we have a kid in college now?" Sirius asks, eyes on a family of ducks.
Remus squeezes their joined fingers with a soft, rueful laugh. "Not at all. I'm pretty sure he was five just a year ago."
"Too right," Sirius' laugh is loud and joyful. He bumps their shoulders together, a smile pulling at his lips when he turns his gaze to Remus. Remus tries not to twitch as Sirius looks at him, forever wondering what he could possibly see to make him want to stay and have a life with him. Even now, still, he can't believe his luck. Sirius sucks in a breath as if he's about to say something, then stops, releasing it.
"What is it?" Remus asks, brow furrowing.
Sirius huffs. "Nothing."
"It's something," Remus insists. "Out with it, love."
"I just wondered if you might like to wear my hat, is all," Sirius says, and Remus' gaze flicks up to the knit beanie on offer; a quirky, lopsided thing Teddy knit for him that Sirius wears religiously every time it's cold enough.
"Why d'you ask?"
Sirius laughs, biting his lip. "You're not going to like my answer." Remus quirks an eyebrow. "Oh, don't give me that old professor look," Sirius huffs. "I just thought you might want to cover your spot from the sun, is all."
"My…my spot?" Remus repeats, utterly confused. "What spot?"
With a soft noise, Sirius gestures to Remus' head. "You know, love. Your spot." Shaking his head, Remus must look truly confused, because Sirius mouths a curse. "I know you have…you're worried about your hair so I didn't—it's really only visible to people taller than you, which isn't many—" Sirius removes a glove, drawing his fingers through Remus' hair. He pauses them at the crown of Remus' head, swiping the pad of his thumb against very little—no—no resistance.
Remus' breath catches in his throat. "No," Remus gasps, raising a hand to cover Sirius' fingers, following the same path Sirius did. There is, indeed, a two finger width circumference of space where the pads of his fingers touch bare, sun-warmed skin. "How long has that—Sirius why didn't you say something?"
"I thought you knew!" Sirius yelps when Remus smacks him in the shoulder, jerking his hand back. Remus feels his face flushing, embarrassment making his throat close up. "Oh, love, it's fine. You look very sexy with your cute little spot."
"Oh my god," Remus groans, slumping over the railing and hiding his head in his arms. "How long?"
Sirius wraps an arm around his shoulders, tucking him between his arm and his chest. He presses a kiss to the—to the bald spot on the crown of his head. "Do you really want to know? Are you going to freak out?"
After a moment of silence, Remus releases a pitiful, "no."
Sirius' lips are warm against his skin, and they send a shiver down his spine that's not solely embarrassment. "Since May, at least."
"Fucks' sake," Remus groans, lifting his head slowly, feeling a little pang as Sirius draws back. "Teddy's graduation?"
Sirius nods solemnly, though his eyes have that spark, the one that always gets Remus' pulse going a little faster. "Afraid so."
"So everyone knows?"
Sirius squeezes him close. "Everyone but you, it seems."
Remus sighs, a soft, gusty thing. He's past the point of mortification. He can't go back in time and will himself a new head of hair. "Fuck. I'll take the hat."
A soft laugh, and then Sirius is tugging it over his ears, cupping his head in his hands and leaning down the few inches between them to press their foreheads together. "For the record, love. Male pattern baldness really gets me going when it's on you."
"Oh, fuck off." Remus shoves him playfully, and Sirius' bark is loud, echoing through the peaceful park.
It's the morning of a brand new year, and thank his lucky stars, Remus' mouth is trailing down Sirius Black's neck as he follows the wellworn trail over Sirius' sternum, stops at his chest to tease at one nipple, then the other, leaving him gasping. Sirius' fingers curl against the back of Remus' neck as Remus sucks a mark over a bare spot between one tattoo and another, blazes down the happy trail leading to his groin, and nestles himself between his legs as though he belongs there (and he does, oh, how he does). He presses soft kisses to Sirius' inner thighs, nipping at the skin every once in a while to make his breath hitch. When he glances up, he sees his long hair, tangled around his shoulders, his grey eyes intense and intent on watching Remus' every move. To remember each moment.
Remus laps at Sirius' erection, taking his head into his mouth and sworling his tongue along the fat head before he sucks him down to the root. His ears buzz a little as Sirius cries his name, as his fingers dig into the back of his head. Remus splays a hand over Sirius' belly before his hips snap up and he hits the back of his throat. He lets his eyes fall closed, relishing in the scent of Sirius, in the taste of him in his mouth, in the weight of him on his tongue. He cherishes it, holds it, and he waits until Sirius' patience runs out and he draws a soft little please from him before he begins to move.
Then it's all curses and drool and precome and drawing more of those lovely noises from Sirius until Sirius hisses and the hand holding Remus in place loses hold on the nape of his neck and scrabbles for a hold in his hair, dragging his fingers through it until he grips Remus' soft curls, hips snapping up as far as Remus will let him go as he spills down his throat.
"Oh fuck, fuck, come up here," Sirius gasps in the comedown, hips relaxing, thighs splitting from their grip on Remus' waist. Remus grins, triumphantly, and sits up on his knees, looking down with wonder at Sirius, all spread out in the golden morning light, soft skin, a belly softening with age and happiness.
"God, you're beautiful," Remus murmurs, nothing but awe in his voice. Sirius huffs out a soft laugh, reaching for Remus' hands and pulling him down to him. Remus goes with a little giggle, falling against Sirius' side and pressing his nose against the arc of his neck and shoulder. Sirius’ mouth falls naturally against the bare crown of Remus’ head, lips sending a shiver of pure warmth down his spine, too overwhelmed to feel anything but turned on.
Sirius' fingers wander over Remus' body, down the slope of his chest and over the soft arc of his own belly, until he finds Remus' cock, holding him close as he gets him off against his hip. Remus gasps and moans under Sirius' clever ministrations, and it never seems to take long before his anxious mind stutters to a stop and all he feels is Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, and comes with his name on his lips.
After, once they've showered and have made it to the kitchen for breakfast, Sirius delivers Remus' coffee by wrapping around him from behind where he's sitting in his usual chair, bent over a crossword with his glasses on his nose. Sirius hums and presses a gentle kiss to the crown of Remus' head. "Love you, Moony."
Remus freezes, anxiety fizzing down his throat. "What did you call me?"
Sirius, sensing the tension, just squeezes him harder and plants another soft, lingering kiss to his head. "Moony."
"Where did that even come from?" Remus asks, turning in his chair to face him, taking his reading glasses off to see him more clearly, taking in the sparkle in his eye and the soft, fond smile. Sirius’ fingers draw through Remus' curls and settle on the crown of his head, drawing light circles along what Remus knows is his little bald spot. The sensation makes him shiver with warmth.
"My moon," Sirius explains, stroking fondly. "My light in the dark, my shining beacon to which I find you after I turn out the lights at night and fumble my way to our bed."
"There's like three feet between the bed and the light switch," Remus says flatly. "It's a—it's not even that large." Sirius has the presence of mind to look a little guilty while Remus' world tilts a little on its axis. "It's not. It hasn't."
"Do you want me to show you?" Sirius asks, biting down on his lip to fight back a smile.
"You'd better," Remus groans. The front he can see, can track the thinning of his hair and the receding of his hairline at his temples. The back, though. The back is an unknown. Sirius pulls out his phone and snaps a photo of the back of Remus' head, looking down at it with a fond expression before he releases a sigh.
"Don't panic. It's cute. You're cute."
"You're biased, Sirius Black," Remus says flatly, tugging the phone out of Sirius' hand. He barely recognizes the back of his head as his own, even though he knows it's his own that Sirius just took a photo of. At the crown of his head, behind where his front curls tuft and fall over each other in an unruly wave, is the spot, grown and crawling beyond the crown of his head and beginning to eke into ridiculous territory.
He releases a pent up breath, staring down at his phone, thinking of his students at his lectures having to see this whenever he turns. There are almost fifty students in his large lecture class, where he teaches in what the kids fondly refer to as the pit, a lecture hall with steep steps leading down to the podium, which would give them the perfect vantage point to see the trainwreck that is his hair.
"Love. Moony," Sirius cups Remus' face in his hands, having moved in front of him while he spiralled. Sirius strokes his cheeks and presses their foreheads together. "No one cares as much as you think they do."
"It's just—" Remus releases a little gasp, glancing back down at the photo. The shock is starting to wear off, filling him with whitehot shame. He pulls his head back, narrowing his eyes at Sirius. "That nickname is not sticking."
"Mhmm," Sirius hums, smile pulling at his mouth. "Moons, Moonpie, Moonbeam, Moonshine," he laughs, tilting Remus' head down to press another kiss to the crown of his head. Against his skin he murmurs, "Moony-mine."
"You're loving this, aren't you?" Remus asks, drawing back. Sirius winks, running his fingers through the tuft of hair at the top of his head. "You're going to be sad when it's gone."
"Sad about you? Sad about getting to be here with you as we grow older and our bodies change?" Sirius hums, nosing forward and pressing a soft kiss to Remus' lips. "Never."
"I can't with you when you put it like that," Remus sighs, but that anxious spark settles a little.
"Wow Da, what happened?" is the first thing out of Teddy's mouth when he sees them, letting Sirius and Remus into his shoebox of a dorm that he shared with his roommate Evan for his first year of school. Teddy stares at him, eyes large, and Remus groans, running a hand over the top of his head.
He's long resigned himself to his thinning hair, but he's yet to bite the bullet and give in to the passage of time by shaving it off, clinging to his dignity and what is an island of curls surrounded by an ocean of bald skin. He clings to it the same way Sirius grips it during sex, and he's grown unbearably fond of slow mornings when Remus wakes to Sirius pressing warm kisses to the cold "moon", or gentle kisses at the breakfast table, where Sirius can never seem to help himself. After five months of steady, daily praise from Sirius, Remus finds he doesn't mind so much anymore.
"He's the cutest, right?" Sirius asks, wrapping an arm around Remus' neck and reeling him in, planting a wet kiss to the crown of Remus' head.
"Sirius," Remus groans, pushing him away, just as Teddy rolls his eyes.
"You guys are so weird."
Moving Teddy home is a nightmare, Teddy somehow managing to stuff twice as much stuff as he came with into his half of the tiny dorm. With a very intense game of tetris, they manage to get it all to fit, though it does mean Teddy has to sit on top of his bedding on the ride home. He doesn't seem to mind, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around the back of the front seat. Remus can feel his eyes boring into the back of his head.
"Staring is rude, Teds," Remus says with a sigh of resignation.
"Sorry, sorry," Teddy looks away, leaving a loaded silence in his wake.
"What's on your mind?" Remus asks, glancing back at their son. He meets Sirius' eye for a flash before Sirius returns his gaze to the road, and gets a wink for his trouble.
"Is that going to happen to me?" Teddy asks, running a hand through his bright blue hair.
Sirius coughs to disguise what sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and Remus shrugs a shoulder. "It skipped a generation, I'm thinking. So maybe you got lucky. But not if you keep frying your hair." Remus reaches a hand back and scrambles Teddy's hair, laughing when he protests. "Didn't Tonks teach you?"
Teddy rolls his eyes. "Yes, Da. She did, and my hair is happy, healthy, and cool."
Another snicker from the driver's seat, and Remus scowls at Sirius, tugging on his single strand of grey hair. "Laugh it up, just wait until it happens to you."
Sirius grabs Remus' hand, lacing their fingers together. "Sorry Moonpie, Black genes are strong in that regard."
With a huff, Remus shakes his head, wilting against his seat. "Well, there's your answer Teds. Black genes trump Lupin genes."
"Ted Tonks has a receding hairline," Sirius points out, expertly merging them onto the freeway that will take them home. Sirius glances at Teddy through the rear view mirror and throws him a wink. "I suppose we'll see who wins, hey Tedward?"
"It's not a competition," Teddy groans. "You guys are the worst."
It's a cold evening in December when Remus finally caves, pulling out his electric razor and prepping it, plugging it in and letting it rest on the side of the sink. He runs a hand along the pathetic, thinning curls clinging to the top of his head, barely an island anymore, and scrapes his fingers down the back of his head, where hair is still holding strong. He peers at himself in the mirror, cataloguing all the features that will be bared to the world without a buffer: the freckles, his large nose, the way his cheeks are no longer hollow like they'd been when he was young, his thin mouth, the little scar that cuts through the side of his upper lip. His eyebrows are thicker, and thank god he's not losing those. He's never been very handsome, has always been a bit too awkward, and yet Sirius loves him and holds him like a treasure.
He sighs, gives his hair one last, lingering look, and pads out into the living room, where Sirius is curled up on his favorite spot on their old couch, feet tucked beneath him, reading glasses on his nose as he pours over his newest novel. Sirius' hair is tied up in a bun, luscious and lovely as always, if struck through with a few strands of grey here and there. He's beautiful, always has been and always will be, and Remus gives himself a moment to admire him.
Eventually, though, he clears his throat. "Dearheart, can I ask a favor?"
Sirius lifts his head, blinking to drag himself out of whatever world he's lost himself in, and tucks his bookmark in place, setting book and glasses on the end table. He unfurls his long legs, a smile tugging at his mouth, gaze so fond and so lovely that it takes Remus' breath away.
"Anything for you, Moony."