Work Text:
𖤓𖤓𖤓 𖤓𖤓𖤓 𖤓𖤓𖤓
“You’re staring again, James.”
James is nibbling on the rim of his cocktail glass, not really paying attention to a little Christmas tree decoration digging into his cheek as he does so—nor to his coworker’s amused voice.
He says nothing but makes a little, dismissive tsk sound against the glass.
Lily, the coworker, and his current work-wife so to speak, snorts at that.
The two of them went out for eleven months at the end of secondary school, and then, due to the strangest of coincidences, ended up employed by the same pharma company several years ago. All that’s left of their former romantic entanglement now is friendly banter and their common propensity for office gossip. Which is exactly what they’ve been doing since they arrived at the company Christmas party that’s in full swing now.
That, drinking all the free booze, and well…
James has been staring.
But look, hey, how is he supposed not to?
It’s a minute longer than it should’ve taken him before he answers Lily.
“He looks really good tonight,” James tips his head towards Lily without looking at her and sighs dreamily before finally taking an actual sip from his colourful drink. It’s his third one. James slurps one of the sugary cherries floating in the cocktail into his mouth, tonguing the fruit, squeezing all the rum-infused juice out of it, before he finally chews it up and swallows.
“Lost case, you are.” Lily giggles.
“Look, I don’t make the rules here, alright? I only speak the truth,” James offers in defence.
“Sure you don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t be ogling a man who permanently lives in bloody cardigans.”
“What are you even trying to say?” The statement forces James to look at Lily at last. “I didn't take you for a homoph—”
“Don’t you dare finish that, Potter. Or else I’ll revoke your bar rights,” Lily cuts James off before he can finish that abomination of a statement, glaring a thousand daggers at him. The irritated tone dies down quickly when she sees James smirking at her. She smacks her lips together in fake dismay, a smile already tugging at their corners.
“What I meant,” she stresses, “is that you didn’t normally go after someone like him. You like them hot, Potter. I know you.” Lily raises her eyebrow suggestively and tugs at her emerald green dress with one hand as she raises the other to simultaneously bring her own drink, a double G&T with double lime, to her lips. The satin dress that’s hugging her body (more than) nicely (indeed) slides down the curve of her hips, and James’ eyes slide down to her cleavage where Lily’s full breasts create a truly magnificent view.
“Evans, I can’t deny that.” James sighs again, almost wistfully. But there’s a telling, shit-eating grin on his face as their eyes meet.
Lily returns the expression—after all she is well aware and not afraid of her ‘hot stuff’ status, honestly, James’ loss—and then she whacks over his arm playfully. “Eyes up, Potter. All four of them.” Lily’s play-pretend strict tone always works like a charm on him. It’s been ten years since they dated, but it still does something tingly to his stomach.
When Evans speaks, Potter listens.
It’s an open office secret.
James laughs warmly at her command, and so does Lily as she elbows him for good measure.
After that, a moment of comfortable silence filled only with cheesy Christmas music and background talk of their colleagues settles between them. Both of their gazes return to the object of James’ interest—one of their new coworkers, Remus Lupin, a gangly, sinewy stick of a man—who is standing hunched in the corner of the restaurant where the party is taking place. He looks like he is about three seconds from running away. Funny that, considering the man works in HR.
Remus. Remus. Remus.
No cleavage, and likely no silky smooth legs either, but one wicked wit, a selection of cosy-looking knitwear and ears that are a little too big, just enough to adorably stick out from underneath a layer of overgrown, loose, tawny curls.
Honestly, James has been in trouble for the past couple of months, since the very first time he laid eyes on Remus, the day he was introduced at the weekly office meetings. And that was before James even got to talk to him. There is something endearing about the man, his calm presence and the dry humour with which he presents every new ridiculous company policy. Maybe it is his utter lack of awareness of his own charms that does it for James. Or the way he says sorry, all-the-time, more than your average Brit. It’s truly hard to tell which one of those things it is.
James is drawn to Remus in ways he hasn’t been drawn to anyone since, well, possibly Lily, though to compare the two of them would be like trying to compare fire and water.
“Well, he might not be hot hot, but… warm at least?” James intones, amused as he slurps loudly from his drink. All the rum has concentrated at the bottom of his glass, and he grimaces as the alcohol goes down his throat with a characteristic sting. He squints his eyes. He already feels pleasantly buzzed, head light, mind floating. “That jumper looks really toasty if you ask me. Do you think he’s got a collection? At this point, I’m really not surprised he’s wearing that to the party.”
“Well, a cable knit is a classic, James. You know, I think this one’s a lot more expensive than the rest of them. Cashmere? Not the usual merino,” Lily remarks, voice seemingly completely serious as she dissects the remarkably boring wardrobe choices of one Remus Lupin, though one look at her face would be enough to understand she finds the whole conversation nothing less than hilarious.
James though, in all seriousness, simply nods, hums in agreement, and downs his cocktail. He is feeling warm and dizzy, and maybe it’s the alcohol, and maybe it’s thinking about Remus and what he might look like under that soft jumper of his. As the thought flickers through his mind, James undoes the first button on his white shirt.
“Well, it really suits him. That colour goes well with his eyes. Have you noticed how golden they look sometimes?”
“Oh my god, James.” Lily shakes her head, just a second from face-palming.
“What?”
She cannot suppress her laughter any longer.
“You really need to go talk to him and ask him out already.”
James straightens up at her words and, without a single look in Lily’s direction, he pushes his empty glass into her empty hand, suddenly determined. He runs his hand through his already messy, black hair, pushes up his glasses, which have been sliding down his nose for the most part of the evening, and he clears his throat with a little cough.
He doesn’t even know if Remus likes men.
“Right. Well. That’s the plan,” he says and steps towards the bar. He needs one more of those little cinnamony rum drinks for courage and one more of whatever Remus is drinking (hot cider, don’t ask how James knows) as a conversation opener.
James undoes the second button on his shirt and his sleeves so he can roll them up to his elbows. He can hear Lily giggling.
Well, here goes.
𖤓𖤓𖤓 𖤓𖤓𖤓 𖤓𖤓𖤓
It’s a little before midnight, and a swirl of snowflakes is hitting his face uncomfortably, and the heaps of heavy, wet snow beneath his feet are responsible for soaking up the hem of his trousers.
Remus is freezing.
And currently regretting every single choice he has made in the past four hours.
He knew he shouldn’t have gone to the company Christmas party. He should’ve stayed at home with the reruns of his favourite soap queued up on the telly and a hot toddy. He’s never been great in crowds or winter time. The thing is, Remus is a new employee and a member of HR. And the party might have been optional, but Albus said it would be for the best for him to show up, and who was he to say no to his boss.
With a sigh that’s fortunately muffled by a whistling wind and a huge shawl wrapped around his neck and the lower portion of his face, Remus looks to the side towards a man attempting to restore his balance on the icy pavement while trying to read directions on his Google Maps.
This whole situation is getting bloody ridiculous.
Remus purses his lips in an unconscious attempt to stop another sigh from escaping him, forgetting all about the shawl and the wind blocking it out anyway, as he keeps looking at the man to his left. James Potter, one of the R&D project managers at his new place of employment, is now drunkenly leaning against a phone booth just a couple of steps away. Probably given up looking up the hotel they searched for earlier that, as a matter of fact, is right there in front of them. They arrived a minute earlier.
The white of the snow covering James’ hair is in a perfect contrast to its black, the snowflakes that catch on his glasses immediately turning into water droplets. The shoulders of his burgundy pea coat are turning darker as more and more snow sticks to them. And his cheeks perfectly match the colour—whether it’s for the cold outside or the fact the man is drunk out of his mind is completely irrelevant.
Well, to be entirely truthful, James can still walk and speak somewhat, so it’s not that dire yet.
Remus doesn’t really know why he agreed when Lily, another coworker of theirs, suggested he took James home tonight. She knew how drunk he was and how bad it was getting outside. If anything, she’s been James’ friend for a long time, so it would’ve made more sense for her to accompany him (Remus doesn’t even know where James lives, only that they use the same tube line). Or she could’ve at least come with them, but Lily was faster than light to disappear after Remus had agreed to help out. It’s just really hard to say no to that woman.
To anyone for that matter, seeing as Remus made an appearance at the party against his better judgement after all.
But to Lily especially.
She is the one who’s been making sure Remus always feels included ever since he was officially introduced to the company staff two months ago. So this seems like a small favour in comparison.
Besides, Remus is fond of James as well. He really likes him. He too has been very good to him since he started at their office. And he too has been trying to entertain him most of tonight—bringing him drinks, sharing amusing office anecdotes and filling him in on all the “vital tea.” None of it maliciously, which pleased Remus; he didn’t want James to be one of those people. Moreover, he’s been asking Remus questions about himself, leaning in closer and closer every time and sometimes, sometimes, brushing the tips of his fingers along his forearm until they reached the sensitive skin of Remus’ wrist.
Sometimes, Remus thinks, well, hopes that…
He shakes his head to banish the impulsive, unrealistic wishful thinking and squints through the snowflakes catching on his lashes as he watches the man drunkenly mumble something to himself, then giggle.
They better move.
Remus steps towards James, waving his hand towards the entrance to the hotel.
“James, it’s right here. Come on, before we turn into living icicles.”
James giggles and tries to straighten up, but fails and chuckles again as he slumps back against the phone booth. “You’re so funny, Remus. Icicles.” Sticking his forefingers up in the air, James wiggles them, clicking with his tongue as he does so. “All pointy.”
Oh god.
This man.
James’ good mood enhanced by glasses upon glasses of rum Canelazos, is starting to become contagious, even in this disaster of a weather. So yes, Remus can’t help but smile at James’ silly reaction, despite how stupidly complicated this whole getting-him-home thing has gotten.
No one has expected this sort of snowpocalypse today. Most of the train services in the direction of his and James’ neighbourhoods have been stopped. By the time they (Remus) figured out what to do, more snow had fallen, and Remus felt slightly panicky about being responsible for another human being in this weather, moreso for someone who’s this drunk. It’s no easy feat to make sure this mass of a former rugby man (six feet tall and easily over 200 pounds) stays upright and on his feet, especially on the frozen pavement.
Remus shuffles towards James to pull him upwards safely, and, gripping at his elbow, he directs them towards the hotel. James grins and leans heavily into him, which causes them to stumble dangerously. Remus’ other hand shoots up to grab at James’ to steady both of them. James immediately grips at it, fingers squeezing fingers. His hand is dry and warm, and Remus unconsciously squeezes it back. Some of the snow in James’ hair falls onto Remus’ coat, and James’ warm breath hits the top of Remus’ cheek when James turns to him to slur a cheery sorry-sorry. A shiver runs down the back of Remus’ neck, and he feels himself flush.
It’s nothing.
It’s just the difference between the cold air and warmth of James beside him.
That’s all.
In they go.
They finally make it to the empty hotel lobby, which is fully decked out in Christmas decorations, and to the reception desk, where a young woman smiles at them. She has bright red lipstick on, and somewhere from behind her ‘Santa Baby’ is streaming towards them quietly.
“Hello, welcome. How may I help you?”
Remus opens his mouth.
“Well, weee need t’ stay. T’getehr,” James says in a secretive voice, syllables jumbled, pointing feverishly from Remus to himself and back to Remus.
The receptionist minutely raises her brow, visibly amused by his demeanour.
Remus, slightly horrified at the act, coughs a little and releases James’ elbow.
“That’s right,” he tries his best, responsible, HR tone. “We’ve been stranded and can’t get home, so we were hoping you’ve got rooms for us. Anything is fine, really.”
James at his side nods rapidly and leans over the counter a little too far, snow falling from his hair and ruining the leaflets lined up there. “Bed, we need a bed.”
The receptionist is doing her best not to laugh, and Remus, red-cheeked as he is, can see it clearly now. As clearly as anyone could see that James is fairly sloshed. Which provides only a little relief to Remus’ embarrassment about the whole situation. Perhaps, if they were younger, it would have been supremely amusing. Or if James and he were friends—the question is would they ever be friends if they hadn’t gotten to know each other through work, and well, even now, it’s not like Remus can call James his friend, maybe an acquaintance, or maybe…—well, maybe then, he would feel easier about all this. Even though Remus can’t stop thinking about how James, even in his intoxicated state, is a rather charming and sweet kind of drunk, and honestly, quite easy to forgive for all sorts of normally mortifying behaviours.
Remus takes a deep breath, glancing towards James who is still leaning over the counter, one foot in the air, uncaring just how juvenile it might look. A twenty-nine year old. To be quite frank, there’s something thrilling in the way he doesn't care for his surroundings. It’s something Remus can hardly emulate himself, whatever the state he's in. He usually takes great care not to get even tipsy outside of his home. Unlike James, obviously, but it’s not only at times like these. Even with how little James and Remus know of each other, it seems this carefreeness is embedded in James’ personality, whether he’s drunk or not. Remus can’t help being attracted to that and… god, he really needs to get this man in bed.
To sleep.
Of course.
To sleep.
So yes, Remus admits James is being hilarious, that is, until James turns to him all of a sudden and throws one arm around him that immediately brings Remus towards the counter as well. He barely manages to stop himself from colliding face first with the surface, hands gripping at the edges, an awkward laughter escaping him. He looks up to the receptionist, Maggie, her name tag says, with a mix of desperation and apology in his eyes.
The other emotion, something warm and tingly with the edge of nerves at the pit of his stomach that appeared there looking at James earlier… hopefully that hasn’t made it to his face. But right there, under James’ arm, Remus can smell the mix of cinnamon and rum on his breath, and a combination of sweat and the spice, wood and musk of his perfume, and it’s doing things to him. He definitely shouldn’t find any of these scents this enticing. And he definitely shouldn’t let it force all sorts of questionable thoughts into his own head.
Besides, workplace romance is never a good idea. Not like Remus dares even dream of it. Not with a handsome and funny man like James. Talk about someone being out of your league.
Maggie presses her lips together to stop the laughter threatening to bubble up, but finally takes pity on Remus, who is pleading with his eyes with her, and quickly looks down to her computer screen. She is typing something fast on her keyboard. A few clicks of the mouse later, a little frown appears on her face.
“All right, sir, so unfortunately, we are basically fully booked right now.”
Remus, still weighted down by James’ arm, freezes inside.
Christ, please, no more of this.
No more of this responsibility, uncertainty and well, mild arousal. Remus was supposed to have a peaceful December evening! What has he done?
He glances towards James, his profile flushed, eyes but thin slits. This man needs a bed and about a gallon of water.
And Remus probably needs a cold shower.
His panic must have shown on his face because Maggie quickly continues, “But—” Remus’ eyes widen in hope. “We had a cancellation earlier today and that room is available. But there’s only one bed. I’m afraid it’s just a twin.” She eyes Remus, a little apologetically. “Unfortunatelly, that’s all I can offer.”
Bollocks.
“We’ll take it.” Remus inhales and gently tries to pry himself away from underneath James’ arm so he can fill in whatever forms the hotel needs from them as soon as possible. Doesn’t matter he can say goodbye to a good night's sleep. At least it’s Saturday tomorrow.
Maggie’s eyes turn sympathetic as she nods and pulls out the check-in form for them. James, in the meantime, pouts and lets out a small whiny sound at the loss of contact between them. He rolls to the side so he is leaning with his back against the counter now, looking up to the large Christmas lights in the shape of snowflakes hanging from the ceiling.
“So prettyyyy,” he sighs, looking mesmerised. “Pretty like Remus,” he mumbles.
Remus swallows heavily at James’ drunken compliment, cheeks turning warm as he fills in the NAME section on the form. His eyes flicker to Maggie who discreetly pretends to be checking something on her computer, but even a blind man could see the smile on her face. Remus quickly goes back to writing and at last, hands the form back to the woman.
“There’s a really nice and comfortable armchair in the room,” Maggie offers Remus in consolation. He appreciates the words, though he isn’t quite sure they’ve done the job of making him feel any better.
But it’s just one night.
One night in the room with one bed in the company of his office crush.
Because that’s what James Potter is.
Drunk or not.
Remus rather fancies him.
Well, what could possibly go wrong?
Remus eyes James as he takes over the key from Maggie, and then with a small smile for her, a large tug to James’ hand and a little prayer for himself, he drags the man towards the lift that takes them to room 1410.
𖤓𖤓𖤓 𖤓𖤓𖤓 𖤓𖤓𖤓
The lift ride to the fourteenth floor feels like something out of Dalí’s painting. James is leaning against the wall on the opposite side of Remus, squinting his eyes oddly at him, then immediately giving him lopsided smiles. He keeps asking Remus the weirdest questions.
Sooo, what’s your house number, Remus? (It’s eleven. I live in a flat, by the way.)
You’ve ever been to a restaurant, Remus? (Yes? Why?)
With your roommate? (I don’t have one, James.)
Some of them are accompanied by strange eyebrow twitches that make Remus consider calling an ambulance. What on Earth is going on? What if the man is having a stroke? The worry is dispelled when James starts undoing the buttons on his coat at some point too, snapping his head up to look at Remus after each button he undoes. Remus is really concerned James will puke if he keeps the sharp movements up, because his eyes are turning gradually glassier, his skin paler. The only thing Remus can do is mentally rush the lift to go faster.
He really needs to get James horizontal as fast as possible.
And then, at long last, after what really might have been like forever, they arrive on their floor and find their room.
They could’ve probably gotten there faster if James hadn’t tried to wrap both his arms around Remus’ shoulders as they walked. The proximity was making Remus weak at the knees, so it was all the more difficult to move them along the corridor. Thinking about it longer though, it could have just simply been the fact James probably weighs a lot more than him, but well… Remus tries not to think about how that is also something he has enjoyed immensely.
Remus lets out a deep sigh of relief when the door of the room shuts behind them. While James stumbles further inside the room—switching the lights on, then switching them off, then on and off and on and off again until he seems satisfied with leaving only one dim lamp in the corner of the room turned on—Remus grants himself a moment to assess the situation once more. He leans against the closed door behind him and watches James swaying from one light switch to another, humming Santa Baby from earlier.
They made it.
It’ll be fine.
Remus’ heart is still beating faster than it should he thinks, but at least, the end is neigh.
Although, he can’t help but give himself a moment longer to just watch James and enjoy him in all his great drunk silliness. Sure, Remus is still worried about the situation. There are still plenty of catastrophic scenarios in his head, starting with vomit everywhere and ending with James choking to death. But for just one more second, Remus allows the idea that he is all alone with his crush in a hotel room to tumble around his head.
Sure, it’s a bit scary, but it’s not like anything is going to happen. And in spite of all his concerns, Remus is oddly grateful to Lily for creating space for him to hang out alone with James.
Because despite all the uncertainty and awkwardness and possible heartbreak, having a chance to spend time with someone you genuinely like, simply enjoying their presence, their gestures and thoughts (no matter how muddled they are), is nice. Yes, in the end, having a crush, being infatuated, feeling the typical tingle at the bottom of your stomach—even if it means you are a ball of nerves sometimes—and the warmth you feel inside your chest when thinking of someone you like, it’s all rather wonderful.
Remus wakes up from his little daydream when James tries to throw his coat in the direction of the armchair in the corner of the room and misses it splendidly. He giggles and mutters regretless, “Oops,” then grins at Remus. Remus suspects James can’t see him very well anymore, the glasses on his nose low as he tries to peer at him from above them.
“Let me get it, James,” Remus says with a little laugh, because seriously, what else is there to do, and moves to retrieve the coat from the ground. When he straightens up after neatly hanging the item of clothing over the arm of the furniture, he almost gets a heart attack.
Right there, at his side, is James, mildly swaying in his intoxication. He is leaning with one arm against the wall next to them, slightly hovering above Remus—though Remus suspects that’s just James unable to stand upright anymore—smiling dopily. The low lamp light is throwing shadows across James’ face, and it’s making him even more handsome than he already is. After taking off his coat, James’ scent is filling the air around Remus even more prominently. His cologne is strong and sexy and accented by the heat coming off his body, and Remus really doesn’t need any of this right now. He can feel drops of sweat rushing to his temples.
He quickly tries to remind himself of the little moment he had by the door of the hotel room.
It will be okay.
It is okay.
Yes, James is hot and really nice, but he is also drunk, so Remus won’t do anything stupid.
He will not.
Remus quickly takes off his own coat, and without much consideration throws it on top of James’, so he can tend to him to his best ability.
Only one step left—get James to lie down.
And then truly, everything will be okay.
When Remus faces James once more, Remus realises he has managed to get even closer.
“Remus, you’ so helpful. An’ sooooo r’liable,” James slurs and reaches for Remus’ forearm. Remus lets him take it in hopes it’ll steady him. “I just wanted t’thank ye.” James smiles some more, sways some more.
“Oh, that’s alright, James. Don’t even mention it.”
“Butbutbut,” James tries to point at Remus, but realises he is still holding his forearm as he lifts his hand, so he drops it with a little giggle, “‘m so drunk.” He runs his hand over his face, knocking his glasses even more askew, giggling again.
“Well, even monkeys fall from trees, right?” Remus tries to comfort, amused. It’s true, isn’t it? It’s not like he has never been drunk himself.
“Monkeys? Where? What?”
A horrible choice of words, Remus realises too late when James cranes his neck to look behind his back in search of the metaphorical animals, stumbling dangerously. Still, the reaction draws a chuckle from Remus, who finally gets a grip of himself after the momentary overwhelm of James’ proximity, and he takes a hold of James’ hand to lead him closer towards the bed.
“Come on, James. You need to sleep. Maybe… maybe you should take your shirt off? You might be more comfortable, and it won’t get wrinkled. It’s a nice shirt.” Remus tries to suggest reasonably.
James stops as if to think about Remus’ words. His eyes widen. Then narrow. Next, something akin to an expression of smugness settles over his face (at least Remus thinks that’s what the mildly hilarious grimace is supposed to be), and he just keeps looking at Remus.
Unable to stand the tension that has suddenly swooped into the narrow space between them as they stand at the foot of the bed, Remus tries to laugh his suggestion off. “What is it, James?” He can’t help but wonder whether James feels the air thickening too, even in his inebriated state.
“You take your jumper’ff,” James slurs finally, and the twitch from the lift reappears on his face. Remus has a sudden epiphany that it is most likely supposed to be an eyebrow wiggle.
God.
Is… is James actually—
“It’s a nice jumper, too. Bet it'd look even better on the hotel room floor, though.”
—trying to flirt with him?
Remus’ cheeks go up in flames.
“Christ, you really are drunk James.” Remus quickly tries to dismiss the drunken words as nothing but exactly that. An uncontrolled utterance of an uninhibited mind.
“Yes, on the floor. While we have sex,” James deadpans, completely unaware of the fact what those words are doing to Remus.
“I - I… what?” Well, what is Remus supposed to say to that? He’s now sweating profusely, mind running a million miles an hour.
First of all—
Does this mean—
Is James—
Remus’ head conjures no answers because James is too fast to follow up.
“‘cause that’s what I wanna hav’with ye. Sex!”
Holy fuck.
Remus is in HR.
Were this anyone else… James would be sacked the next day.
But as it happens… this is Remus and Remus…
Abruptly, James starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, clumsy as he is, the slippery round things too little for his big, drunk fingers.
Mortified and clueless about what to do next, Remus just watches him with blood rushing in his ears.
Sex.
With James.
As it happens, Remus might have had thoughts himself. Might be having them right now. Yes. No.
NO!
What is most likely for the best right now, is for Remus to step away from James before something really not okay happens.
But watching James struggle with the buttons, the frown on his face deepening, it seems the man has actually already forgotten all about the brazen thing he’s just said to Remus. Perhaps it’s safe to stay close, after all. Without much thinking, Remus reaches out to help him with the last two buttons over his pectoral. Remus’ hands are shaky as he tries not to think about what this might look like.
NO!
He is putting James to bed right now!
And putting a stop to this ridiculousness.
Doing his very last best, Remus tries to ignore the gaze with which James is burning holes into his forehead. And it’s going rather well, that is, until James reaches to unbutton his trousers too.
“O-oh, James, I think you should keep those on. You - you’re going to be cold.”
Now Remus steps away. Just undo the bed, drag James in.
Christ, nothing he thinks or does will make this situation any better now, will it?
Still, Remus goes on to untuck the covers. The action is accompanied by a little whine from James and another slurred, “Where ye goin’?”
When Remus turns around to look at James again, he sees him squinting his eyes at him, waiting with his hands on the waistband of his trousers. “This’d be better with some music,” James murmurs cryptically then and slowly starts to pull his trousers down all the while wiggling his arse in an awkward rhythm.
Is James trying to do what Remus thinks he is trying to do?
“James…” Remus says weakly, at complete loss of what to do to stop James from giving him a bloody striptease. But as James begins to dance, Remus finally loses it.
James is so big and so clumsy in his drunkenness, and he starts humming Santa Baby again as he is very apparently doing his best to seduce Remus. And Remus is just standing there, watching him helplessly, falling in love, helplessly, unable to stop himself from running his eyes over the muscular arms and a fucking nipple piercing he has only noticed now and…
Remus erupts into laughter. And he continues laughing because well, if you don’t laugh, you cry, and honestly, there is nothing to cry about when it seems like all that Remus has been feeling for James might be actually reciprocated.
“Christ, James you’re such a berk,” Remus mumbles affectionately and runs his hand through his hair, trying to force himself to step in to stop the show before something happens. It’s really hard, though, as James is actually doing a rather good job with it. But then it’d have probably been enough for Remus if James just stood there.
All of a sudden, James, who is giggling all along, tries to spin around. But his legs are heavy with all the booze and completely restrained by his trousers that have stuck at his knees, and he wobbles. And then, this big big man is wavering and keeling over and crashing down to the ground with a loud thud.
Remus sees it all happen in slow motion, yet it’s all too fast for him to react. He hears James giving a loud yelp and sees him stretching his arms forward to cushion the fall. For a second longer, Remus just stands there frozen, looking at the pile of clothes and limbs that James has become on the ground.
“Christ, James, are you alright?” Remus finally jumps forward and goes down to his knees.
James stirs a little as Remus touches his shoulder, and with Remus’ help he rolls onto his back. Remus’ heart is about to jump out of his chest and a proper look at James’ face does nothing to calm it down.
James’ glasses lie on the floor, cracked and one of the hinges seems to have broken off. The sharp edge of the screw must have scratched James because there is a long gash coming down from his temple to the centre of his stubbly cheek. The cut doesn’t look very deep, but there is blood.
Remus' chest fills with panic. “James, oh my god, you’re bleeding.” He cups his cheek gently as James looks at him a little dazed, but surprisingly with a smile on his face.
“Heeeey, Remus,” he coos happily.
God, Remus has almost forgotten James is plastered. Thank god, it doesn’t seem like James is hurt beyond the cut on his face, though. Remus manages to give him a little smile of his own, if for nothing else than because he is relieved to see James relatively unharmed.
“Hi there,” Remus answers quietly, keeping one hand still on James’ cheek and brushing James’ messy fringe off his forehead with the other. “You’re hurt.”
“Am I?” James blinks rapidly a couple of times, possibly because without his glasses he is blind as a bat and can’t see much of Remus’ expression.
“Yeah, does it hurt?” Remus asks and gently runs one of his fingers along the cut. “Let me take care of that.
“‘s okay.” James closes his eyes, a smile still curling his lips. He looks content even if a little green. The booze and the fall. It’s been quite a night, Remus thinks.
“You sure? Just let me…” Remus is about to scramble to his feet to fetch a damp towel to clean the wound on James’ face, but James starts groping around for Remus’ hand quickly and once he finds it, he doesn’t let go.
“Stay here,” he mumbles and finally opens his eyes. “I like you, Remus. Reaaaally fancy the pants’ff ye.”
Remus feels like exploding. His breath quickening as his heart goes into overdrive yet again, and he feels warm all over. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth and gnaws at it, searching for a way to respond to James’ confession. Christ, as if he had options. He chuckles.
“Yeah? You do?” Remus confirms. “Well, I do, too. I mean… like you. Like that. I like you the same way. I reckon I have for a while. Like… since we met… I think.” Christ. Maybe he is the one having a stroke right now. Verbal diarrhea.
James laughs and Remus thinks it’s the best sound in the whole world. James doesn’t seem to mind Remus’ own awkward confession at all, and it’s a relief. He tugs on Remus’ hand gently, intertwines their fingers, then tugs again.
“C’mon,” James mutters and, with a bit of a difficulty, he props himself on his elbows, so now their faces aren’t all that far away as Remus keeps sitting hunched over him. James’ eyes keep travelling unfocused all over Remus’ face, his lips apart. Remus has got a feeling…
“James, would you like to kiss me?” He laughs quietly when a wide grin spreads on James’ face. James just nods.
Remus leans down.
They kiss.
Their teeth knock because both of them are grinning.
James tastes like rum Canelazo and then something else that Remus guesses he will come to know as distinctively only James later on. Once again, Remus’ senses are overwhelmed by James’ alluring scent, his warmth. His lips are full and plush, and when Remus lays his free hand onto James’ stomach to support himself as he comes closer in order to deepen their kiss, his skin is hot, the muscles under a pleasantly soft and squishy layer of fat are hard, and the trail of hair that leads from below James’ belly button towards the waistband of his underwear is a little coarse and a whole lot titillating.
Their tongues mash together for a while longer, until breathing becomes a dire necessity. When Remus pulls away, his cheeks are on fire and both of them are still grinning.
“Sooo,” Remus starts a little uncertain. “You reckon it’s time to rest now?”
James hums, shrugs and his eyes sparkle with mischief. Remus shakes his head in amused disbelief.
“Just to be clear, I’m not against the idea of undressing wildly and having sex with you, but I’d like to save it for when both of us actually remember it. Preferably. You know… might be nicer. ”
The mischief from James’ eyes never disappears, but he still laughs and hums again. Remus hopes all the booze in his system won’t make him argue his great point. But there is nothing to worry about.
“Yeah. ‘kay." James says and, with a wink, squeezes Remus’ hand. "That still doesn't stop me from takin’ ye to bed t’night, though. ‘casue ye know... there’s only one.”
𖤓𖤓𖤓 𖤓𖤓𖤓 𖤓𖤓𖤓
