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“Does anyone know what type of animal this might be?” Remus says, pointing at the glass behind him.
“A shark!” one of the kids shouts.
“I can see why you might think that, she does look a bit like a shark. But she’s actually a guitar fish, which is why her name is Taylor, because Taylor is the name of a famous guitar company,” he explains, the teachers standing at the back of the group appreciating the fun fact much more than the class of eight year olds sitting in front of him. “Guitar fish are actually a type of ray, called a shovelnose ray. So even though she looks like a shark, she’s more closely related to Luna, here,” he adds, pointing out the large sting ray swimming over their heads.
He’s waiting for one of their four green sea turtles to make its way towards them when the kids suddenly break out into a fit of giggles.
“What are we all laughing at?” Remus plays along, hands on hips.
“There’s a man behind you!”
“A man? Where, in the tank?” he asks, taking his time to slowly look over his left shoulder, where he pretends he hasn’t seen the glimpse of a flipper disappear behind him. “I don’t see anyone.”
“The other side!”
“This side?” he asks, pointing to his right, waiting for the nods and giggled yesses before slowly turning to look over his right shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you might be playing tricks on me.”
That brings out another chorus of there is and on your left and look look look now he’s right there, at which Remus does finally turn around again, letting out an exaggerated gasp of surprise when he comes face to face with a diver behind the glass.
Sirius grins at him around the mouthpiece of his scuba gear, winking beneath his diving mask before waving at the kids, who all wave back enthusiastically.
“Why is he in the tank with the fish?” a kid in the front row asks.
“Well, the official answer is that he’s cleaning the tanks to make sure that they stay clean and healthy for all the different animals, and also so that you can see them clearly through the glass and the water,” he explains, before adding in a loud whisper, which has all the kids leaning in to listen to him more closely, “But the unofficial answer, is that his name is Sirius, which is the name of one of the stars in outer space. So technically…he’s a starfish.”
Right on cue, the kids all start laughing, and he can’t help but laugh along with them, watching as Sirius gives him a quick salute and continues on his way, leaving only bubbles in his wake.
—
“Did you tell the starfish joke again?”
Remus looks up from where he’s pulling apart lettuce for the manatees to find Sirius leaning against the railing that circles the top of the main tank. He’s wearing a hoodie, shorts and slides – obviously done for the day – bag slung over his shoulders, damp hair tied back into a low bun.
“It gets them every time,” Remus laughs.
Kids reactions aside, he’s actually pretty proud of the joke. He remembers the first time he’d said it to Sirius, over the lunch table one day when their breaks had coincided, remembers the way his eyes had crinkled and he’d tried to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching up into a smile. Remus had been trying everything to get him laughing, and it turned out the jokes he normally reserved for the kids was the way to do it.
“I think next time,” Sirius says, putting his bag down and taking a seat on an upside down bucket across from Remus, “We figure out some sort of signal and then as you say it, I’m right up against the glass, limbs stretched out like an actual starfish. The kids would lose it.”
He’s right. The kids would lose it.
And it would work. The other staff often joke that Remus and Sirius have a secret language they can’t speak with anyone else, with the way Remus is the only one able to understand him from his charades within the water.
“Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the tank, rather than smearing yourself all over it?”
“Eh,” he waves it off casually. “It would be worth it, I think.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.” Remus tips the bucket of lettuce leaves into the water, Lou quick – or as quick as a manatee can be – to grab some in his mouth as he floats near the surface, before asking, “Good day today? I didn’t see any scuba groups.”
“Nah, nothing today, just maintenance. I have a group tomorrow though.”
Remus doesn’t even need to look at him to know that there’s a suggestive smirk on his face, he can hear it in his voice.
“What a shame I’ll be working,” he grins at Sirius over his shoulder.
“One of these days I’ll get you to say yes instead of no,” Sirius sighs. He’s been trying to get Remus to join one of his dives for years, pretty much since that first day they met in the aquarium parking lot during Sirius’ first week. No matter how many pleading looks or pouted lips Sirius throws at him, he’s perfectly happy staying outside the tank, thank you very much.
“Don’t hold your breath,” Remus teases.
“See, that’s the thing about diving. You don’t need to hold your breath. Because you have ox—” Sirius cuts himself off with a laugh when a piece of lettuce hits him in the face. “Asshole. I was going to ask if you wanted help, but I don’t think I want to help you anymore.”
“Even if you did, I wouldn’t get you to do my dirty work. You’re off the clock,” he says earnestly, thankful for the company as he gets through the last hour of his shift.
“Remus, I mean this with all the love in my heart. I would do all your dirtiest work for you, and it wouldn’t even come close to some of the disgusting shit I’ve had to do in this job…” Sirius trails off with a grimace on his face that almost makes Remus feel bad for the lettuce. Almost.
“See, lettuce to the face isn’t so bad in comparison,” Remus teases. “But thank you for your almost offer to help, I almost appreciate it. I’m nearly finished up here though, so if you want to sit and look pretty while I run these water samples, I won’t say no to the company.”
“That I can definitely do.”
—
As he waits for the shower to warm up, Remus takes a seat on the closed lid of his toilet and massages his left thigh, fingers pressing into the muscle around his scars; they always feel tight this time of year, the cold seeping deep into his muscles and bones. His fingers pause to brush over the faded stars around the scar on his inner thigh, tracing over where two of the lines cross over at the point of the star. These ones had appeared last night.
He was young when he’d first learnt about soulmates, about how his soul is connected to another, his skin a canvas that reflects the other half of him. He remembers asking his mum whether his soulmate would have his same scars, would share his same pain, when he sat in the hospital room post-surgery.
“The scars will show up, not the same as yours though. More like a shimmer in the right light. But they won’t feel your pain,” she had told him, which had comforted him a little, but he still felt bad.
It wasn’t until he was a teenager that the stars began appearing; like a tattoo that had settled into his skin as if it had always been there. He remembers the confusion, remembers trying to wash them off with soap and warm water before he realised that he hadn’t absentmindedly drawn them himself and forgotten about them. It was the first time he had confirmation that he did, in fact, have a soulmate somewhere out there. Not everyone does. Or if they do, not everyone finds them or even finds evidence they exist.
It was months before he realised that the placement wasn’t random, that the stars were always drawn around the smooth, pale skin of his scars. Sometimes it was just one or two, and sometimes it was a tiny smattering the whole way along, framing his scars in a beautiful constellation of tiny, hand-drawn pieces of his soulmate’s existence.
He loved every single one of them.
—
He purposely waits at the back of the group, standing behind a taller guy so that his presence won’t be immediately noticed. This has been in the works for a while – trying to line up the schedules can be tricky – and he’s quietly pleased with himself that he hasn’t chickened out in the process, even though the thought has definitely crossed his mind a lot.
It takes five whole minutes, but it’s worth it for the look on Sirius’ face when his eyes meet Remus’ while scanning over the group, doing a double take when he realises it is in fact Remus standing there amongst the group for his eleven o’clock dive. His jaw is dropped and his eyes are alight as Remus grins at him.
It’s not often that Remus sees Sirius in uniform; he’s almost always in his wetsuit or just casual clothes when he’s doing work behind the scenes. The teal shirt boasting the aquarium logo is quite hideous – Remus would know, he wears it every day – but Sirius somehow pulls it off.
Sirius claps once to get everyone’s attention, “Alright, we’ll just hang here for a few minutes while we wait for our last pair to check in, then we’ll head backstage to take you through all the equipment.”
Sirius weaves through the group, face splitting into a grin when he comes to a stop in front of Remus.
“What the heck are you doing here?” Sirius asks, staring at Remus like he can’t quite believe he’s real.
“Oh, isn’t it obvious?” Remus says, trying to act coy but he’s sure his giddy smile is giving him away. “I’m here for your eleven o’clock dive.”
Sirius punches him lightly in the shoulder, before pulling him into a hug and whispering, “About fucking time,” in his ear.
It’s fascinating, watching Sirius in his element. Obviously he’s seen him on his dives, but only from the outside. He’s never been witness to this version of him. He listens attentively as Sirius takes them through the different pieces of equipment they’ll be using and how each of them work, answering questions in a calm and reassuring manner that does a whole lot to settle his nerves now that the excitement of surprising Sirius has faded and the reality of what he’s about to do sets in.
They’re then shown to the changing area where they can leave their things and change into wetsuits, Sirius helping them each find one that’s the right size. When Remus emerges from his cubicle, feeling ridiculous and lanky in his wetsuit, Sirius is waiting for them, now wearing his own.
This is the Sirius he knows, looking at home in his wetsuit with his hair twisted in braids like a pattern down the back of his head.
It’s not until they’re at the top of the tank, the familiar environment a little comforting, that they get fitted for their masks and dive equipment. There’s a few other members of the dive team helping, but Sirius is right there in front of him, pulling the hood of Remus’ wetsuit over his head.
“How are you feeling?” Sirius asks, adjusting the straps of Remus’ tank.
“Is it too late to back out?” Remus laughs nervously, only half joking.
He expects Sirius to laugh it off or make fun of him, falling back into the easy banter of their friendship. But instead he reaches for Remus’ hand where it has clenched into a fist by his side, unfurling his fingers and taking it in his.
“Hey, you’ll be fine. You’re with me,” he says with a soft smile.
“You promise none of the sharks are going to take a chunk out of me?”
“I promise. I’d sooner let them bite my arm off than let them touch you,” Sirius says, and there’s not a doubt in Remus’ mind that he means it. “But you know every animal in this tank by name. You know how old they are and you know their temperament. You know that they’re not going to bite you. Okay?”
Remus nods, taking a deep breath and smiling at him. “Okay.”
“Good. Let’s get this mask on then, yeah?”
Remus watches as Sirius fits his mask for him, biting down on his bottom lip in concentration as he adjusts the tightness of the straps until it’s sitting snug against his face.
“How’s that feel?” Sirius asks quietly.
“Good,” Remus whispers. He’s not sure if he’s talking about the fit of his mask or the feel of Sirius’ hand against his cheek. Maybe both.
When they do enter the water, Sirius is right beside him, giving Remus a questioning thumbs up to make sure he’s doing okay. When Remus gives him a thumbs up in return, he can see Sirius’ eyes crinkle with a smile beneath his mask.
After the initial panic settles, Remus finds it a little easier to breathe, the feel of his mouthpiece less foreign, and actually finds himself enjoying it. He’s worked at the aquarium for years, spent more hours than he can count looking in on the tanks, on these animals that he loves. Despite Sirius’ numerous offers, not once did he ever imagine that he’d actually be here, swimming alongside his favourite green sea turtle, Eddie. He understands why Sirius loves it so much now, why he feels so at home here in the water. He never thought he’d break out of the mental cage that has been holding him back, always too scared to jump in, but god he’s so glad that he did.
The moment they reach the surface again – thirty minutes passing so fast Remus can hardly believe it’s already over – Sirius is by his side, arms thrown around him and masks bumping against each other.
While still treading water, Remus takes out his mouthpiece, then reaches for his mask. His gloved fingers fumble with the straps before Sirius reaches out and takes it off for him, looping it over his elbow before pulling his own mask up to sit on the top of his head.
“Holy shit,” Remus says, grinning at Sirius in disbelief.
“Pretty good, huh?”
“That was – that was amazing. Honestly, I just – thank you,” he says, feeling weirdly emotional.
Sirius brushes him off with a wave of his hand, “My pleasure. Thank you for trusting me.”
He doesn’t notice that the rest of the group have gotten out of the water until one of the other dive instructors calls out to them. When they see him holding up a camera, Sirius slings an arm around Remus’ shoulder and tugs him closer, until their smiling faces are pressed cheek to cheek.
It’s this photo that Sirius posts to his Instagram later that night, Remus receiving the notification that he’s been tagged in a photo as he’s waiting for the kettle to boil for his tea.
underthesearius: The most special guest on my dive today
It’s not the best photo of Remus, marks around his eyes from the dive mask and his wet hair sticking out every which way. Sirius looks perfect, of course. But it’s both of their smiles that catch him off guard. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen either of them look happier.
—
“Remus! Can you reach the thingy for me?” Sirius calls out as Remus walks into the store room, standing on his tallest tiptoes trying to reach for something on the top shelf. “I accidentally pushed it back and now I can’t reach it.”
He notices the blood down the side of Sirius’ hand at the same time his fingers wrap around the handle of the first aid box Sirius had been trying to reach.
“What did you do?”
“Scraped it on coral,” Sirius says, reaching out for the first aid box only for Remus to pull it back out of his reach.
“Sit,” Remus says, straddling the bench in the middle of the room and placing the first aid kit between his thighs, digging through it as Sirius takes a seat next to him.
He tries to be gentle, fingers featherlight as he wipes the scrape clean and applies antiseptic – it’s not a deep wound, but coral cuts can be nasty and it’s not worth risking infection – wincing any time Sirius does, whispering quiet apologies.
There’s a comfortable silence between them as Remus covers the scrape with a waterproof bandage, Sirius staring up at him through his lashes.
“All done,” he says quietly, fingers lingering on Sirius’.
“I dunno. Maybe you should kiss it better?”
Remus is sure that he’s joking; that’s what they do, they banter and they tease. But there’s some inexplicable force that has him bringing Sirius’ hand to his lips, Sirius’ eyes locked on his as he brushes a kiss to the bandage. The comfortable silence they sat in mere minutes ago is gone, replaced with a silence so thick with tension that Remus can only see two ways to break it; either by doing something very stupid, or—
“You should probably be careful the next couple days, if you’re meant to be diving.” Remus says, breaking eye contact as he packs the supplies back into the first aid kit. “Wouldn’t want the sharks to get a whiff of your blood and take a bite out of you. Would undo all the hard work you’ve put into your sharks are very docile, misunderstood creatures advocacy work.”
“Have I ever told you that you’re my favourite person?” Sirius asks, somehow coming across as both joking and so sincere that Remus feels his breath catch.
It’s at that moment that one of the other dive instructors, James, walks in the room and says, “Hey, take that back! You said I was your favourite.”
“Yeah, when we were eleven,” Sirius scoffs, before James throws a wet cloth at him, hitting him on the cheek. “Oi! You could’ve given me a black eye.”
“Chuck it back and I’ll aim better this time,” James teases.
Sirius gives him the finger.
—
Remus’ favourite time to be at the aquarium is in the early hours of the morning before opening or the late at night when the guests are all long gone. There’s something so magical about the quiet of it, nothing but the sounds of the water and the hum of air conditioning and water filters.
Tonight – the annual staff Christmas party – is a little different, a little loud, though the magic is still there.
He’s thinking about escaping the crowd of the atrium for a moment when Sirius catches his eye from across the room and, like he’s somehow read his mind, nods his head towards the walkway behind him. A moment later he’s disappeared amongst the crowd.
Remus finds him in the Ocean Life exhibit, lying in the middle of the floor where Remus hosts most of his talks, the tank glowing above him like they’re in the middle of a snowglobe; what’s the ocean equivalent, a seaglobe? He doesn’t speak as he approaches, laying down next to Sirius and letting out a breath as he watches the fish swim over them, mesmerising and beautiful.
“This is my favourite part of the aquarium,” Remus says eventually, voice quiet.
“I know.”
He tilts his head to the side to look at Sirius, surprised to find him already looking back.
There’s been something different between them since that day in the store room, an electricity in the air any time they’re within arms reach of each other. He can feel it crackle between their fingers, where they rest only inches apart, itching to reach out. He can’t help it, the way his hand shifts until their pinkies are pressed up beside each other, his heartbeat thrumming loud in his ears as if the electricity has shot straight to his heart.
He watches as Sirius’ chest rises with a shaky breath before he whispers, “Are you sure?”
It’s a loaded question.
Is he sure that he wants him, wants this? God yes, he’s never wanted anything or anyone more than he wants Sirius right here.
Is he sure that this is the right thing, that it won’t ruin them if they cross the very thin line they’ve been walking between friendship and something? No, but he’d have a marvellous time ruining everything.
Is he sure? How could he ever be sure?
But that doesn’t stop him from nodding, sucking in a breath as Sirius closes the space between them.
It’s soft and sweet and goddamn perfect. Remus would happily drown in this moment, in this kiss, if it meant he didn’t need to come up for air. Sirius’ hand comes to rest on his cheek, fingertips brushing the shell of his ear, threading through his curls as he tugs him closer. But it’s still not close enough. He wants to roll them over until Sirius is underneath him, fingers twined above their heads with not an inch between them.
But the small part in the back of his mind that hasn’t been overrun with lust reminds him that this is in fact their place of work, and he knows exactly how visible they are on the security cameras right now; he’s not sure he’d be able to look any of the security team in the eyes again if he let himself give in.
Their kisses turn softer, lighter, teeth clacking with the smiles they can’t keep from their faces. Sirius presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, before settling his forehead against Remus’.
“Hi,” Sirius whispers, eyes so close that it should be uncomfortable. It isn’t.
“Hi,” Remus whispers back, before they dissolve into laughter. “Should we get back to the party?”
“In a minute,” Sirius says, breath hot against Remus’ cheek before he pulls him back in for another kiss.
—
Remus thinks he might be the only staff member not grumbling about the fact that they have to work the morning after the Christmas party; well, maybe not the only one.
He’s leading his school group through the atrium when he spots him, backpack slung over his shoulder as he chats to another staff member he doesn’t recognise from the back, presumably on his way backstage to clock in for his shift. He sees the moment he notices Remus over the man’s shoulder, eyes lighting up as he bites back a grin, nodding along to whatever the other man is saying. Remus raises his hand in a small wave, feeling like a kid with the way he’s sure he’s blushing over a second of eye contact. Ridiculous.
Besides that fleeting moment, it’s not until late afternoon that he sees him again.
“Hey stranger.”
Remus looks up from where he’s preparing food for the dolphins to find Sirius leaning in the doorway.
“Hey,” Remus says, insides going all mushy at the soft smile on Sirius’ face as he watches him. “Good day?”
“Better now,” he says, and it should sound like a line but Remus can’t help but think he truly means it as his shoulders relax and he crosses the room towards him with purpose.
“Oh, I’m all up in fish guts—”
“I don’t care.”
And then Sirius is kissing him, hands on his cheeks while Remus holds his gloved hands up in the air, itching to touch him, to slide his hands under his sweatshirt and feel the warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips.
“Can I take you to dinner?” Sirius whispers against his lips.
“Yeah,” Remus says with a happy sigh, “Yeah, you most definitely can.”
“Friday?”
“Friday works.”
“It’s a date,” Sirius says with a grin and a peck to Remus’ cheek, giving him butterflies in his stomach that stay with him for the rest of his shift.
—
“Sorry, I’ll be ready in a minute. Just trying to find my other shoe,” Sirius calls out from the other room.
Chuckling to himself, Remus calls back, “No rush!”
He stands in the kitchen where Sirius had left him with a kiss to the cheek before rushing back down the hall. For all their years of friendship, Remus has never been inside his apartment. They live on opposite sides of town, so any time they’ve caught up outside of work they’ve met somewhere in the middle, though more often than not it’s the pub down the road from the aquarium.
He smiles as he takes in the eclectic mess that is Sirius’ fridge, photos and wedding invites and kids drawings all overlapping one another, each held up with its own unique magnet; a shark, a disco ball, a map of Australia, a very adorable miniature fridge with its own tiny fridge magnets.
But then his eyes catch on a whiteboard hanging on the side of the fridge and Remus freezes in place. The content itself is nothing crazy; a shopping list, a reminder to pay his electricity bill, a messy James was here scribbled in the corner. But it’s not the content that has him struggling to catch his breath, not even the fact that Sirius has sparkling water on his shopping list; ew.
No. It’s the stars drawn in place of each dot point. The stars that he could see with his eyes closed, that Remus has spent hours, days, weeks, tracing on his own skin. The loop where two of the lines cross over is as familiar to him as his own nam—
“Sorry, it was under the bed. Ready to go?” Sirius asks, stepping into the kitchen, unaware that everything Remus knows has just been pulled out from underneath him on a random Friday night in the middle of Sirius’ kitchen.
“Take off your pants.”
“Oh,” Sirius smirks, colour rising in his cheeks, “I was going to wait ‘til we got back from dinner but, uh – I can probably shift the reservation if you want?”
“Sorry, not that. I mean yes that, later. Right now, I just—please? I need to—let me see?” Remus is sure he sounds like a mad man, probably looks like one too; eyes wide and pleading, breathing erratic.
Sirius must sense that he’s being genuine, no hint of laughter or innuendo as he nods calmly, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
He crouches down to untie his recently tied shoelaces, slipping both of his shoes off before his hands move to his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle before he gets it undone. Shirt untucked, button unfastened and zipper unzipped, he shimmies his dark jeans down his legs and steps out of them, until he’s standing there in the middle of his kitchen in a dress shirt, black briefs and socks.
“Holy shit,” Remus whispers.
It’s rare these days, to actually find your soulmate. Rarer still to find them naturally, without the interference of scouring the internet for photos of scars and imperfections that match your own, or just straight up writing a time and a place on your skin so that your soulmate might seek you out, assuming they live close enough to do so.
It’s never even crossed Remus’ mind, to try to mess with fate. Gone is the notion that there is only one person out there in the world for everyone, that soulmates can only be romantic, that platonic love can’t be as all-encompassing as romantic love.
Which is why he hadn’t ever entertained the idea that he could one day meet them, or that it would even matter; the stars were enough for him, enough for him to know that they existed somewhere out in the world, wherever that may be.
But it seems that wherever that may be is right here in front of him.
Because there’s no mistaking the faint lines that run up Sirius’ left thigh, a perfect copy of the ones he’s looked down and seen on his own thigh for the last twenty years.
“I—” He should say something, he wants to say something, but he can’t find the words. He wants to reach out, kneel before him and run his fingers over the marks so he can be sure that they’re real. His voice is barely more than a whisper when he exhales, “It’s you. The stars—”
He’s halfway through taking his own pants off before Sirius seems to catch on to what he’s talking about, what he’s implying.
“You – no. That’s, that’s insane,” Sirius says with a nervous laugh as he watches Remus kick his pants away. But then Remus stands tall and, “Holy shit.”
He watches Sirius’ eyes roam over him, over the jagged scars that paint the skin of his thigh. He takes one step, two, three, until they’re standing toe to toe, before he does what Remus couldn’t bring himself to do and drops to his knees.
“Can I?” Sirius whispers, looking up at him with water-rimmed eyes.
He can’t do more than nod his assent, his chest tight as he tries to swallow down emotions that get stuck in his throat.
He ought to be embarrassed about the whimper that escapes him when Sirius’ hand reaches out to touch his thigh, fingertips tracing over the lines they share, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Not when he can feel goosebumps rising up on his skin in Sirius’ wake, sending a shiver down his spine as he watches the wonder on Sirius’ face as he takes it in.
Sirius looks up at him again for a moment, before he leans forward and presses his lips to the scar that runs from the middle of his thigh up to his hip, where it disappears under the leg of his underwear.
Remus doesn’t realise he’s crying until Sirius is on his feet again, hands cupping his cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears.
“How did you know?” Sirius asks, smiling through tears of his own.
“The stars on your whiteboard. They’re the same, the way the point crosses over,” Remus explains, hands curling around Sirius’ wrists, tilting his head to press a kiss to his palm. “I’ve seen those stars so many times, I would recognise them anywhere; traced them over and over until they disappeared and I had to wait impatiently for them to appear again. And all this time, all this fucking time, it was you. You’re—”
The word is there, right on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t make himself say it. Like saying it will somehow break this spell they’ve found themselves under, that he doesn’t ever want to wake up from.
“I know,” Sirius whispers. “This is crazy, I never thought I’d – no one thinks they’re actually gonna meet them, right?”
Remus shakes his head.
They don’t end up making it to dinner.
Instead their disbelieving laughter turns to hurried kisses. A trail of clothes leading from the kitchen, down the hall and into Sirius’ bedroom. Fumbling hands pressing each other into the mattress, twisting in bedsheets. As Remus pushes into him – arms bracketing Sirius’ head, lips only a breath apart – he can’t help but thank whatever invisible string brought them together to ensure they ended up right here, right now, in this very moment.
—
For such a life-altering discovery that shifted the very tectonic plates beneath them, not that much actually changes.
Sirius still interrupts Remus’ talks whenever he can and Remus still makes his starfish joke; now with the addition of Sirius’ starfish imitation which, as predicted, is such a hit with the kids that he sometimes struggles to reign them back in afterward.
Remus still doesn’t give in when Sirius pesters him to join him on another dive, though that’s more just because he likes to rile Sirius up; he would love to go diving again, and will stop playing hard to get soon enough.
Sirius still hangs out with Remus once his shifts are over, but instead of sitting to the side and letting Remus go about his tasks, he’s reinventing the meaning of personal space; hands snaking around his waist, lips on the back of his neck, trying to sneak in a kiss whenever he can. Not that Remus is complaining; though the fish might, considering it often takes Remus twice as long to get through everything.
There are some changes though.
There’s Sirius’ toothbrush beside his on his bathroom counter, Sirius’ washing intermingled with his own, Sirius’ phone charger plugged in beside his bed; subtle evidence of their separate lives merging into one lived together.
There’s the stars now permanently etched into his skin with ink, Remus walking straight into the tattoo parlour one afternoon while Sirius’ drawings were still fresh.
There’s the I love you that appears in Sirius’ perfect scrawl on a different part of his body every day, that Sirius presses a kiss to every night when they crawl into bed. By morning it’s gone, but he knows another will appear soon enough, it always does.
Sirius’ eyes squint open, the morning sun filtering through the blinds casting a golden glow across the room.
“G’morning,” Sirius mumbles, burying his face in Remus’ neck.
And, pressing a kiss to Sirius’ forehead as he whispers, “Good morning,” Remus is filled with so much love he feels like he might burst from it.