Chapter Text
Sirius leans on his elbows at the counter. The coffee shop is quiet at this time of the day, so he can indulge in some screen time. Who's going to tell him off anyway? James? Please.
He just discovered this app used by fandom creators and enthusiasts alike, and Sirius did always like community.
To be honest, he's mostly nosy.
The account set-up took him an embarrassingly long time, but he eventually made it, thank you very much. And now he can press the bloody invitation link and see what it's all about.
104 members. Sirius' eyebrows fly up his forehead. Damn, that's way more than he thought. He's pretty sure they can pack more in their café in one of those evening events James and him like to throw from time to time, though. They should do another one. They're fun. And June is coming up. Ish. Caffeinate all the queers before they head to Pride. Yeah, he should tell James about it, he thinks, as he scrolls up the list of members in the server he just joined.
"Oh my god," Sirius squeals, his eyes still fixated on the 'moonydaydream' username.
"Hm, hi?" A voice startles him out of it.
"Fuck," Sirius clutches at his chest. "Shit. I mean, sorry," he groans. He really sucks at this customer service thing. And said customer is absolutely gorgeous, by the way. He truly hopes he didn't scare him away. "Didn't see you there. Hi," he recovers. He thinks.
"It's fine," the man answers in a low and smooth voice. Fuck, did he just wake up or is he blessed with such a raspy voice all day long? "Didn't mean to scare you," he adds with a thick Scottish accent and a small smile. It's a bit lopsided, and framed with sparse dark hair. He has small scars peppered on his slightly crooked nose, and a million scenarios bloom in Sirius' mind.
"What can I get you?" Sirius tries to keep a straight face, and not let his eyes wander. Fuck, he just noticed the freckles.
"A latte, please," he answers easily. There's a glint that shouldn't be there in his eyes, and Sirius is absolutely done for. "Make it a double shot," he says like a man who swore off caffeine but clearly lost the battle. Sirius really hopes he's new in the neighbourhood and not just a passer-by who hadn't been scared off by the humongous pride flag on the front. "Oat milk. Please."
Sirius can't fight his smile now. That man is gay. Or hangs out with too many lesbians, which is the greenest of flags. The coffee order gaydar never fails. Or almost never fails. He wants to find James in the office and scream.
"Coming right up," he says instead, and if the man finds it too cheerful for the context, he doesn't say. If anything, his eyes seem to gleam even brighter.
Sirius turns his back and heads to the espresso machine or he might get stuck on the spot, his eyes wandering over the man's face, and he noticed a hand clutching the strap of his bag on his shoulder. A very nice hand. Blunt and strong fingers. He wonders if there are scars on it too. Maybe he went rogue when he was younger and has a dark past he recovered from. That's how strong-willed he is, Sirius muses as he hooks the portafilter in. Sirius huffs then. Maybe he really does read too much fan fiction.
Of course not, there's no such thing as reading too much fan fiction, he corrects himself as he steams the milk until it foams to perfection. With a practised move of his wrist, he pours it over the fresh shots, a classic fern leaf forming on top.
"And voilà," he puts the mug in front of the terribly rugged and charming customer. He would slap himself if he witnessed it from the outside. He's being absolutely ridiculous.
He doesn't have the time to regret it too much when the stranger shakes his head with a smile.
"Oh I forgot to ask for your name," Sirius finds himself saying. "You know. To write on the cup."
An eyebrow raises. Beautifully, Sirius might add. And the stranger eyes the ceramic mug which is very much not meant to be written on. They don't even do that here, even for the to-go orders. Being a queer space and all, he learnt that a lot of people panicked when asked their names unprompted. Some young queers would even blurt out the names they didn't want nor use in their day-to-day lives. So this wasn't the establishment's policy. But fuck it, Sirius wants to know his name, so he shall ask for it, no matter how absurdly he has to do it.
"Remus," the man answers. And Sirius might just melt on the spot. "But I'd rather have yours written."
Sirius' inner voice screams in delight. In a very high-pitched, embarrassing tone. Sirius' face just smiles. Probably turns red too, he can feel it.
"That can be arranged," he answers as coolly as he can and uncaps a black pen.
He puts the mug aside and scribbles his name on the saucer.
"Thank you," Remus answers and swivels it so he can read. "Sirius," he reads and brings back his gaze to Sirius. Full lashes with eyes the colour of his hair. Chestnut honey, Sirius' mind supplies. He's pretty sure he can spot gold in them. "We rhyme."
Sirius lets out a strangled laugh at that because that man is truly ridiculous, and Sirius is even more so and he is so fucked. He knows for a fact he will daydream about him and the way words roll off his tongue for the foreseeable future.
"Enjoy your coffee," Sirius says, in a very collected manner. He hopes.
"I will," Remus smiles and leaves the counter, coffee in hand, to sit at a nearby table. With a full view of the counter. Not that he did that on purpose. But Sirius likes to think he very much did.
"Oh my god," Sirius turns to find James immediately. "James," he barges into the office.
"Hi, love," James swivels on his ridiculous rotating chair. "What's up?"
"I'm in love," Sirius slumps on the sofa and cradles one of the too many pillows in his arms.
"Oh yeah?" James smiles. "Do tell."
"He has scars and freckles. And his voice, his accent, James. I might need a change of pants."
James laughs, a full belly laugh that wraps like a balm around Sirius. Sirius' phone vibrates, and he tugs it out of his pocket. Right!
"Oh, also? You know that writer I like?"
"The one you keep raving about?"
"I am not raving about anyone."
"Sure, sure," James grins. "So what about this writer? Moon-something?"
"Yeah, moonydaydream," Sirius nods. "Well, I downloaded this app, right? To connect with people who actually share my interests since my best mate wouldn't," Sirius starts and ignores James gaping at him. "So, it's like a chat thing, with themed servers. Kind of, I'm not quite sure yet. Whatever. First server I join, guess who's in it, James? Guess!"
"Oh, I don't know… moonydaydream?"
"Damn right! Fucking moonydaydream."
"Well damn, eventful day for Sirius Black."
"Fuck off," Sirius laughs and tosses him the pillow at his face.
"So, did you text them, then?" James asks as he catches it effortlessly. Tosser.
"Of course not, are you mad?"
James barks another laugh.
"Pardon me to even suggest that you message someone whose work you like. How silly of me."
"Fuck you."
"Yeah, Lils'll be there in a bit," James winks and Sirius groans. "By the way, not that I don't love this, obviously, but who's at the counter?"
Sirius puffs out his cheeks.
"We really need to hire. It's not for me, James, this whole customer service thing. I made a fool out of myself in front of the love of my life. His name is Remus by the way."
"Oh!" James' eyebrows raise behind his glasses. "So you got his name? I'm finishing this and then I'll come snooping."
Sirius drags himself back to the counter and curses under his breath when inevitably, there are customers waiting in line.
"Sorry about that," he smiles and starts getting orders in.
He catches a few glimpses of Remus between chais and mochas. He's on a laptop, looking very focused, his fingers Sirius regrettably can't see flying over the keyboard. And newsflash, he has glasses. It takes all he has in him not to whimper here and there.
"So," James clasps him on his back. "Where's that mysterious man that stole your heart?"
"Nice one, James, couldn't have been there five minutes ago when we practically had a line out the door, could you?"
"I'm sure you can handle three customers, love," James squeezes his shoulder.
"You take next shift."
"And you'll take the inventory? Sure."
"Okay, nevermind."
"So, where is he?" James cranes his neck and Sirius immediately tugs him back.
"Be even more obvious, why don't you!"
"I don't see anyone."
"He's literally right in front of us," Sirius sighs. Remus is still focused on whatever he's working on. Maybe he's an assassin and he's writing a report on his last kill. That's why he left Scotland and fled down South. Maybe he needs a hide out. Sirius would be too happy to offer.
James frowns, his eyes wandering everywhere in search, but never stopping on the one. Sirius grabs his chin and steadies him.
"Here," he grits. "With the glasses? Computer?"
"Ah," James nods. "At least he's age appropriate."
"What is that supposed to mean?!"
"A lot of things, babe," James laughs. "You did always have a soft spot for the nerds, I suppose."
Sirius blinks.
"You haven't seen his scars, James. That guy is dangerous."
"I'm sure he gets lots of papercuts," James hums and Sirius smacks him upside the head for it.
"You lack taste. Always have."
"I'm telling Lils you said that."
"Oh, fuck off!" Sirius laughs, his gaze intent on that focused crease between Remus' eyebrows. "I'm going for a smoke. You tend to the customers for once. Except this one. You're forbidden from talking to him. Ever."
"Don't worry, I'm like, the opposite of tempted," James laughs again and goes about pretending to clean the machine Sirius did clean already.
Sirius grabs his jacket, not that he really needs it, but his pack of smokes is in it, so he'd rather take the whole thing. He ducks under the counter and risks a glance at the corner of the café where one sexy nerd assassin (yes, James) was sure to be found. But because Sirius has no luck whatsoever, of course that's exactly the time he's not typing furiously on his keyboard and is simply leaning back in the chair, looking right at Sirius, who's still fumbling with his sleeve.
Sirius embarrasses himself furthermore by shooting a wobbly smile in his direction, and hurries to the door. That smoke is long due.
He drops on the wooden bench, knocking his head back on the glass window for good measure. He's pathetic. Utterly pathetic.
It's not like he isn't used to being attracted to various different people, and it's certainly not like he isn't used to being flirted with. But he barely ever means it. He likes to charm people, because it bloody works, and it makes interactions much more pleasant. But he's not actually interested. Except once every blue moon. Which is apparently today. And Remus is hot. No matter what James says. James only has eyes for Lily, anyway. Good for them, really. And Remus did flirt back. Flirted first, one might even say.
Sirius refrains from glancing through the window, and lights his bloody cigarette instead. Delicious.
He should stop. He's getting too old for this shit, it's not cute. But he also looks younger than he is, so surely he can cheat a bit. With the smoking, that is. Not the age. Sirius never lies about his age, he doesn't see the point, and he finds it frankly hilarious when people go all bug-eyed at the news.
He pulls out his phone, because he was doing something before Remus turned his world on its axis. He was about to see what the fun was all about in that chatting app. And most importantly, he'd spotted moonydaydream.
Moonydaydream is the first author he subscribed to on Archive of Our Own. And the only one he reads everything of. He can write humour, angst, smut absolutely perfectly, it's honestly ridiculous.
# introduce-yourself
[ + Message #introduce-yourself ☺︎ ]
Look. Sirius realises how absolutely ridiculous he is right now. Grinning like a fool at his damn phone. Even Harry doesn't do that. Get a fucking grip, Black.
But also. Also! His favourite writer is basically the same age as him. And trans, too, he realises as he clicks on his profile, the pastel flag blinking at him in Moony's bio.
Sirius kind of figured already. He likes to make anyone and everyone trans, and his writing couldn't belong to someone young. But he didn't know for sure, because, regrettably, contrary to a lot of other writers, Moony doesn't ramble in the author's notes. So to see him in a space meant to talk and share, it was practically unbelievable, and fucking thrilling.
He clicks on the little heart below his message, and scrolls up and down and reacts to others' messages so as not to look like a weirdo. Then he thinks it's time to introduce himself. Hopefully get Moony to react. Not that it would matter. But it would be nice.
# introduce-yourself
[ + Message #introduce-yourself ☺︎ ]
He looks through the various channels, a lot for writers to talk about their craft (mostly whining about it, from what Sirius is seeing, which is frankly hilarious), some other for fic recommendations, which Sirius will be sure to look through thoroughly when he gets back home.
Sirius doesn't write. He likes to draw, not that he does anything with it. Well, except for two or three tattoos he got. But he loves reading. And he loves that random anonymous people from across the globe just gather together and spend an insane amount of time on a hobby just for the love of it. It's so interesting, especially now, with how the world works, and how everything is measured on their supposed "worth", a.k.a how much money you can make off them. So Sirius ditched traditional books a long time ago. Well, he still reads non-fiction, because he loves to learn more about queer culture and queer experiences. He likes history, and art, and autobiographies.
"Finally," James slumps in his arms when he gets back to work. Dramatic git. "Your man has been fidgeting in his seat. I know he wants to pay, his cup is empty. Wanna take a wild guess on why he didn't come up to the counter yet?"
"Oh, shut up," Sirius laughs, feeling his cheeks heat up. "You didn't make it obvious, did you?"
James, instead of answering, starts to clean the surfaces around them, because he's a mess hazard.
"James! Did you?"
"Who are you taking me for?"
"Well. You."
"It's normal for an employee to look at the customers, Padfoot. Make sure everything is in order. That coffee hasn't been spilled. You know."
"So, you were like, super obvious?"
"Our eyes did connect once or twice. Maybe thrice."
"I'm never telling you something, ever again."
"No, come on Siri, don't do this to me."
"Excuse me?" A voice prevents Sirius from answering. Which is probably for the best.
"Hi!" Sirius turns to face… some kind of rockstar. God, he loves his customers.
"Hi, I was wondering… are you hiring by any chance?"
"Yes!" Sirius exclaims before James can say otherwise. "Absolutely we're hiring."
"Oh! Great! Here's my resume—"
"Ever been a barista before?" James asks.
"Erm, not really. I need a student job, and this place would be the dream, really."
"Oh, yeah? Why?" Sirius preens.
"Well, pretty fitting."
"Lovely. What's your name, dear?"
"Marlene. I use she/they pronouns," they grin.
Oh, they're going to get tipped so well.
"I'm James. This is Sirius. Both he/hims," James extends his hand to shake, which Marlene takes. "We're the owners, it's very nice to meet you."
"Likewise," she chirps. They have a deep lovely voice, and a glint in her eyes that makes Sirius want to be twenty again.
"I'll take a look at that resume and be in touch, yeah?" James smiles. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Oh yeah, thanks, I'll take an Americano, please. I wanted to study a bit here, anyway. I just thought I'd shoot my shot."
"Ah!" Sirius barks. "Is that a coffee pun? It is, isn't it?"
"I mean, it totally can be," Marlene laughs and James shakes his head but Sirius can see the smile he fails to bite back.
Sirius gets on with her order and he can hear James refusing to take their money. 'On the house,' is James' favourite sentence. He can visualise his smug look all too well.
"Can we keep her?" Sirius pleads once Marlene goes to sit.
"Don't you want to look at their resume, first?" James chuckles.
"I don't care. They're a superstar, can't you see?"
"Oh and the fact that it would mean less shifts for you has nothing to do with this I'm sure."
"I mean. A bit. I could use this time to organise more events. It's getting dull in here. James, I'm greying."
James narrows his eyes and looks on the top of Sirius' head.
"Shit, you're right. Might need black box dye pretty soon."
"You take that back James Fleamont Potter!"
"Nope," James answers and envelops Sirius into a hug he tries and fails to fight. "Just look at her resume and do whatever you want. I trust you. I need to finish on the orders for next month."
"Alright. I'll be here," Sirius nods.
So, Sirius tidies up a bit. Serves a couple of iced lattes, and absolutely doesn't check his phone. Because it would be utterly stupid to look for a single reaction from someone he doesn't actually know. That's bonkers. So he doesn't. He really, really wants to, though.
But Remus saves the day, by being real, and by actually knowing his name, at the very least.
"Hi, there," Sirius greets him with a wide smile. "Need anything else?"
"I wish, but I have to run," he answers and does look regretful. "How much do I owe you?"
"That'll be four pounds fifty, please."
Remus pays him in cash, which does nothing but fuel Sirius' imagination of Remus having a shoddy job. See James? Dangerous. And hot. Dangerously hot. Nobody pays in cash these days, and Sirius has always thought that the mundane thing of paying with bills was enticing. Especially when the one handling said cash looks like that.
"It's a really nice place you have there, are you the owner?"
"Yes," Sirius answers immediately. "Me and James, we put this thing together a few years back. It's like our baby. But he's not—we're not—he's my best mate is what I'm trying to say. The guy from earlier? Maybe you've seen him," Sirius is rambling.
He knows he's rambling, and Remus is looking at him like Sirius is the butt of the joke here. Or maybe, maybe he's a little bit charmed.
"Well, congrats, to you and James, for that beautiful place, truly. I just moved here, so you'll see more of me for sure—"
"That's—great," Sirius winces at the obvious display of his over enthusiasm. "We'll be happy to have you."
"Good. See you, Sirius," he says, with crinkles around his eyes that turn his eyes oh so soft.
"Bye," Sirius breathes out. And it might be the very last one he takes because when Remus steps out of the coffee shop he takes his breath away. "Fucking hell," Sirius mutters.
—
Sirius manages to ignore the Discord app right until he's safely home. To be fair, he didn't really have the time, what with Lily, and Harry, popping by the café. He could swear the little fucker has grown two inches since he last saw him, which was last week. Yes, Harry is growing considerably taller than Sirius and he's bitter about that. Sue him.
# general-chat
[ + Message #general-chat ☺︎ ]
Sirius groans and tosses his phone on the sofa. It bounces back, and for half a second Sirius thinks it's going to smash on the floor. That would certainly add to the dramatics. Not that Sirius needs it. His heart is hammering in his chest. Just from a simple 'hi'. He needs James to knock some sense into him. He considers calling him, then thinks better of it. Harry said he was spending the night at his best mate's, Ron, which means Lily and James are occupied. Lucky bastards.
What he does instead of keeping freaking out like a madman, is grabbing his phone back, not open Discord, and types Marlene's phone number instead. It's still a reasonable hour, he reckons, and he looked at her resume earlier, so it's good enough for him. Frankly he just likes their vibes, and they really do need an extra hand. Their last baristas left a few weeks ago, and since then Sirius has been handling customers while James is busy with all the other shit (Sirius hates the other shit).
"Hello?" Marlene's voice echoes in his ear.
"Hey, hi! It's Sirius. From the shop?"
"Oh! What's up?"
"Would you be up for a trial? Maybe tomorrow?"
"Yes, sure! What time?"
Sirius tells them to come around eight so he can explain everything before they actually open. He'll be there for the rest of the day to show her the ropes and everything. They sound excited, and honestly, Sirius can't wait to meet them properly. He was always more of a team player than a lone wolf.
He feels better, after the call. He has so many project ideas for The Bolt. He wasn't lying to Remus earlier, this is his and James' baby. A lot of their friends helped, of course. It was a mighty effort, but they made it. A place for the queers to reunite. A place where they feel seen, and not out of place.
It came with a few trials and errors (speaking to you, vicious bankers), a few unwanted surprises (and you, black mold) and a lot of sleepless nights, but they fucking made it.
James' dream is to organise monthly brunches for people in the community. Where unconventional, queer parents meet and gather. They could use the room downstairs, and they have contacts with several cooks, namely Evan Rosier who supplies them with all the baked goods already. That tosser doesn't come cheap, though, no matter that he's Sirius' brother's boyfriend. Well, one of.
They'd need more staff. Maybe temporary staff they can hire for specific events, just like they did for their grand opening. Would probably cut off his and James' paycheck, but it's not like they can't afford it.
Sirius slumps back on the sofa, feeling light and airy. He scrolls through his phone, checking his emails, and then he goes back to Discord. Shit, is it rude not to have answered Moony's 'hi'? He doesn't know the social conventions to these things. He just grabbed the link from someone's author's note and wished for the best.
Okay, so, he stalks. A bit. Not that there's much to stalk. He clicks on Moony's profile, and a few others, too. Lurks through the introductions channel. Which is way more diverse than he originally thought. Moony's profile says 'DMs open', and Sirius worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He considers it. And then he does it, because what the hell.
@ moonydaydream
moonydaydream
moonydaydream
This is the very beginning of your legendary conversation with moonydaydream.
Today
moonydaydream is typing…
[ + Message @moonydaydream ☺︎ ]
Sirius is actively thinking of a solution to go back in time. Surely he can. Surely he didn't just send this. And Moony didn't answer that. Sirius is a fucking twat. His phone buzzes.
@ moonydaydream
moonydaydream
moonydaydream
This is the very beginning of your legendary conversation with moonydaydream.
Today
[ + Message @moonydaydream ☺︎ ]
Sirius gapes at his phone. Would do laps around the room if he were a dog, he thinks. Which is ridiculous. He doesn't know this man! He doesn't know him. He just reads his works. And likes every single one of them.
@ moonydaydream
[ + Message @moonydaydream ☺︎ ]