Work Text:
Remus glanced up at the clock and startled. If he didn’t get a wriggle on he’d be late to collect Ted.
Despite his son’s grumbling protestations that 8 was plenty old enough to walk the 300 metre distance home from school Remus had flatly refused. Four. Four! That’s how many road crossings Teddy would need to make to get to their home. That was before you considered driveways and people pulling out, inattentive of their surroundings. No. Absolutely not. Teddy was a clever lad, but he was off with the fairies half the time and wandered with his head in the clouds.
Remus snapped his laptop shut, grabbed the papers he was marking and slipped them into his brief case (the Department wanted him to mark purely on the software but they didn’t understand, sometimes you simply could not judge the composition of a paragraph until it was inked on paper), grabbed his threadbare coat (it was comfortable!) and bustled out of his office.
-
The primary school was not far from the University, but he preferred to leave a good 10 minutes before he had to, as unless he gets there early- oh crap.
There they were.
Along the path towards the school gates, like an overbearing praetorian guard, stood the gaggle of women he had come to think of as The Horde.
And now he had to run the gauntlet.
He could see Rita’s lime green yoga pants and scarlet red talons clashing terribly with Dolores’ bubblegum pink sundress.
Neither had spotted him yet but it was merely a matter of time before they would smell his fear and then Rita would chase him down like a sorry excuse for a “reporter” chasing down supposed tv-license dodgers on trashy current affairs programs… Or Dolores would fix him with her sickly-sweet smile stretching wider across her slack face as she prodded endlessly at every excuse Remus ever made about why he couldn’t meet for dinner (last time he’d panicked and told her he was deathly allergic to salt. He cringed at the memory.)
It was genuinely a bit pathetic how terrified he was of the mothers at his son’s school. Well not all the mothers. Just those ones and their hangers on.
He took a deep breath and muttered to himself “They’re just being friendly.”
But he didn’t move. Just a couple minutes more of breathing. That’s fine. It’s not at all weird to be afraid of your child’s classmates’ mums.
There was an alley a few paces ahead and it would be ridiculous and silly and utterly unreasonable to let Ted wait at the school gate while hiding in an alley way until Rita and Dolores had collected their (according to Ted) deeply unpleasant children.
He was absolutely not veering towards the mouth of the alley at all.
He definitely wasn’t ducking into the alley.
He wasn’t. He wasn’t going to camp behind a dumpster hiding from bullish mums in aggressively colourful athleisure.
As he was definitely-not-side-stepping into the alley with one eye on Rita’s harshly platinum head there was a sudden yelp.
Remus jumped, swallowed a screech of panic and tripped over a pair of black work boots, flailing his brief case as he fell in the frying pan after avoiding the proverbial fire that would have been approaching Rita and Dolores.
Instead Remus had (literally) run into the man with whom he was quietly obsessed.
Sirius Black was, and Remus suspected had always been, effortlessly cool.
Today his long black hair (complete with silver skunk stripes at each temple and one side of his truly devastating widow’s peak) was pulled into a low messy pony tail, looped up at the base of his neck and falling in loose curtains around his face. His tattoos weaved and snaked their way out of the collar of his worn and stretched Mötley Crüe tshirt (including one peering devastatingly through the hole in the tshirt just above Sirius’ left nipple) (literally peering. It was the eye of some furred animal - bear? Wolf?). His mechanic’s work coveralls were unbuttoned to the hips and the top half tied around them, accentuating the sharp lines of his body. (Remus’ middle aged body had certainly not retained such sleek lines.) On his feet were chunky, scuffed black steel-capped work boots that Sirius somehow managed to make look like designer footwear.
“S-sorry!” He stammered and Sirius threw him one of his roguish grins that made Remus’ stomach feel funny. He proffered a hand to Remus to pull him up.
“You’re good, mate.” He smiled as Remus regained his footing and dusted off his trousers. “Hiding from the harpies?”
Remus was quite sure he went beet red. “I wouldn’t say hiding as such,” he mumbled.
“I fucking would.” Sirius shot back. “They’re bloody witches, the lot of them. The blonde one with the talons was practically threatening Haz last week trying to get him to swap his diary with her crotch goblin’s so she’d have an excuse to talk to me.” Sirius’ face was stony as he glared at Rita around the edge of the alley.
“You’re kidding!” Remus gawped. He knew Rita and Dolores were a tad, well, enthusiastic, but threatening a child?!
“No, I’m not,” said Sirius grimly. “And she’s not even the scary one.”
“I would call Rita fairly scary.” Remus admitted. “Dolores is more… frilly,” he finished lamely.
Sirius shook his head. “The pink frills are a front. She cornered Harry and told him she ‘required’ my phone number for ‘PTA purposes’ and when he said he didn’t know it the witch actually wrote on his hand ‘I must not tell lies’ and told him it was a ‘reminder about proper behaviour’.”
“Christ! Did you report that??” Remus exclaimed, gobsmacked.
“Course I bloody did, but she’s the Secretary of the PTA and for some reason they love her. Butter wouldn’t melt, they reckon.” Sirius growled darkly. “So, anyway, hiding from them makes sense.”
Remus could feel himself flush as he remembered he had been hiding from two suburban mothers. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well I wasn’t hiding. Just…taking a moment of preparatory contemplation.”
Sirius stared at him for a moment before barking out a harsh laugh. “Right, well I was fucking hiding. Sorry for getting in the way of your preparatory contemplation.” He said, his (unreasonably tempting, slightly chapped) lips pulled into a smirk.
Remus scratched the back of his head nervously, hoping that his rising desire to add the qualifiers “kiss-reddened” and “bite-swollen” to Sirius’ lips was not showing on his face as clearly as he suspected. He quickly turned from Sirius, peeking out of the alley way towards Rita, Dolores and their Stanley-cup-wielding, Lululemon-clad coterie. He sighed. “We’ve got to go soon. The bell will ring in two minutes. Teddy’ll panic if I’m not there.” (This was, Remus knew, blatantly untrue, Teddy was not a child prone to panic, and was generally the one talking Remus down from catastrophising spirals.) (Look, in his defence,Ted dying of scurvy was at least a theoretically possible outcome of his failure to get his orange tree to fruit.) (Or so he maintained.)
Presently, Remus was envisioning Ted, abandoned and likely starving, falsely believing that his father’s failure to appear meant that he was unwanted and would hand himself in for adoption at the local fire station, after which the authorities would course imprison Remus for child abandonment while Ted would spend his adolescence in the system and hate Remus forever.
A hand tapped his shoulder and he jumped.
“Shit, sorry! You just looked like you were about to hurl for a second there.”
Remus glanced up and Sirius' eyes, always enchanting, swirling silver like clouds in the moonlight, were filled with concern.
“I, uh, I tend to worry.” Remus said, somewhat lamely.
Sirius’ delectable mouth flattened into a grim line. “Right.” He said firmly and straightened. “Then you slip past while I distract them.” Before Remus knew what was happening, Sirius stepped out of the alley. “Dolores?” He called, jogging up to her, then pausing. “I, uh…”
Dolores’ wide mouth spread into a slack, curious grin as Sirius stood silent in front of her.
Remus jolted, realising he was wasting Sirius’ distraction by watching it instead of getting to Ted. He quickly power walked past Sirius (who remained awkwardly uhhhhhing in front of a delightedly puzzled Dolores as the rest of the kettle of vultures looked on).
Remus rushed past the school gates and into the bush-lined path down to the year three classrooms, overhearing a somewhat incredulous Dolores clarifying that Sirius was interested in providing brownies for the bake sale.
Remus winced.
He owed Sirius.
-
Harry frowned.
“Pads, why the fuck are we making brownies? You hate cooking.”
“Oi you little shit, you know you’re not supposed to fucking swear.”
Sirius looked at Harry and saw the incredulous eyebrow raised above the round frames of his glasses (Sirius definitely had not cried when Harry picked them to match the photo of James, his arm slung around Sirius, on Sirius’ bedside table), an expression straight off his mum’s face.
“Yeah yeah I know, I’m a fucking hypocrite but unlike you I’ve done the hard yards of growing up! Besides, it’s no bloody fun swearing like a sailor if you’re allowed to do it, so shut up and help me.”
Harry’s eyebrow remained steadfastly cocked. “You never cook if you can do something else. I know why I always get ice cream cakes.”
“Your birthday is July! It’s hot as balls!”
“And you’re balls at cooking, so why the fuck are we baking?!”
Sirius rubbed his palms into his eyes. “The hot as fuck nerd bloke was worrying about getting past the hyenas and his hair is curly, Harry. There is only so much resistance I have. So I’m making fucking gluten, dairy, egg, nut and sugar free fucking brownies for fucking Dolores’ fucking fundraiser!! Christ these things are gonna be disgusting. Why are chickpeas involved in a dessert?!” He stared at the bizarre recipe.
“That makes no sense, Pads. Also Teddy’s dad looks like a lost grandpa. None of his cardigans fit.”
Sirius groaned. “I know. He’s beautiful.”
“Weirdo.” Harry huffed. “I think you’re supposed to use the chickpea juice shit, not the chickpeas.”
Sirius sighed. “No fucking swearing, mate.”
“Whatever. Ted said his dad was really grateful, and to tell you he owes you a favour.”
Harry, bored by the proceedings, pushed his glasses back up his nose and slunk off to play Minecraft, while Sirius battled the various offerings of a coconut (who knew there were so many bits of a coconut?? Flour, sugar and oil???) into horrendous, Dolores-approved brownies, sustained by the knowledge that Remus had thought about him enough to ask his son to talk to Harry.
-
This time Remus had looked in the alley. He had been pleased, if a tad flustered, to find Sirius waiting there again.
“Thank you!” He blurted. “I’m sorry you had allergy-safe brownie duties. I’ve already been brow-beaten into attending one of Rita’s Pilates classes and I’m not sure my ‘back strain’ excuse will have enough longevity if she corners me again.”
Sirius’ mouth dropped open and he looked a bit glazed over for a second (Remus wondered if he was picturing Rita doing Pilates?) “N-no problem, mate. I, uh, don’t think they’re here yet today?”
Remus smiled. “No! I’m not stupidly late today.” He paused. “Wait, why are you hiding in the alley then?”
Sirius ran his hands down the side of his jeans with a slightly wild look in his eyes until his hand hit a lump in his pocket and he shouted, “Phone!” Before continuing at a more normal volume and cadence, “I was uh, on the phone. To Marlene. Harry’s godmum.”
Remus nodded, and felt the sharp pop of the small bubble of hope where he had entertained perhaps, maybe, one day gaining the courage to ask if Sirius would like to grab a cup of tea or coffee with him. “Ah that makes sense.” He said, forcing the corners of his mouth up into a (slightly mad) grin. “Bet she finds it annoying with Rita and Dolores endlessly flirting.”
“Annoying? Ha. Marls finds it fucking hilarious.” Sirius ran his hand through his hair. “Likes it when I suffer.”
Remus gave a perfunctory smile and said “She sounds funny. Anyway I should hurry up before Rita arrives.”
Remus scurried away, making an effort not to look like he was running away, though he was fairly certain he failed when he tripped over his shoelace.
-
This was terrible.
It was actually catastrophic. He tried to explain again to Minerva that he simply could not take on a seminar that ended at 3.
He had to leave by 2:55pm to get to Ted's school before The Horde arrived. His Head of Department however was a shrewd woman and, unfortunately, knew which school Teddy attended.
“Remus, the school dismissal is 3.15. It is a 10 minute walk away. That gives you 5 minutes to wrap up a class after the finish time before you have to leave, and that’s presuming your son takes no time to collect his own bag and meet you to walk home.” She had laid out, peering sternly over her square framed glasses. “It is well within the terms of your accommodations and Meadowes is on extended leave for the semester.”
Remus deflated. There was no arguing with Minerva - she was irritatingly fair minded and thorough in her approach. If she said it was within his accommodations then he’d bet his mother’s chicken soup recipe she was correct.
“No worries, Minerva. I’ll make it work.” He smiled weakly.
“I’m sure you - and Edward - will manage wonderfully.” She looked down her long nose at him with a slight quirk to her thin lips, before turning and leaving the room.
He would just have to learn to deal with Dolores and Rita.
-
Over the next few weeks, Remus ran the gauntlet of the harpies practically every day. Yet every time they were about to succeed in forcing him into an awkward dinner date Sirius would miraculously appear.
Last week Dolores had boldly snatched Remus’ phone out of his hands as he wandered towards the school not looking where he was going, drafting an email to a particularly panicked student. She was deftly opening his calendar and preparing to compare her own to his before Remus had even comprehended where his phone had gone when. Then there was a crash and Dolores shrieked as she was enveloped in a cloud of black hair and grease.
“Sorry!” Sirius exclaimed from around Dolores’ waist (where it looked curiously as if he had held on to her when he fell, like a rugby tackle, almost), quickly standing and scooping Remus’ phone back up towards him before pulling Dolores to her (rather shell shocked) feet. “So sorry! I’ve two left feet, ha! Alright, Dolores?” He’d babbled before pulling Remus beyond the school gates beside him.
Yesterday Remus had been scratching for any excuse as to why he simply couldn’t join Rita for her “world-famous” potato salad that night (the only thing he could think of was that he had to sort his socks) when Sirius appeared and said “potato salad?! Such a shame you can’t eat it, Remus. Rita’s is absolutely excellent!”
“Can’t eat it?” Rita had said suspiciously.
“Yep, Remus here can’t eat potatoes.”
Rita’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Allergy to salt and potatoes, Remus? So unfortunate.” She cooed in a cloyingly poisonous voice.
“Oh he’s not allergic to potatoes.” Sirius pivoted. “It’s trauma. Post traumatic stress. From the famine, you know.”
Remus struggled to pull his expression into one of benign knowledge rather than amused (and confused) disbelief.
Rita continued in her incredulous tone. “The famine? As in the Irish famine of the 1840s?”
Sirius’ face hardened into a grim and somber portrait. “Rita, people died.”
Remus was desperately chewing his cheek to keep from laughing.
“Anyway Rita, I need to steal Remus for a quick moment. Work question.”
Sirius had dragged Remus away while Rita called after them “What good is a classics professor to a mechanic?”
-
Today by the time he made it over to the school after his seminar (lord save him from overly engaged students like Hermione Granger) he was four minutes late to be there by his deadline of five minutes before the bell.
Scanning the crowd outside the gate, he’d spotted Sirius’ grunge rock man bun in amongst the circle of patterned sundresses and acid green active wear that are the hallmarks of Dolores, Rita and their hangers on.
Today Sirius looked slightly wild-eyed like a dog cornered by a pack of hyenas and Remus realised this was his opportunity to repay Sirius for all the welcome interference he’d run on Remus’ behalf.
Remus was already striding into the fray and cutting off Dolores (who was in the midst of explaining to Sirius that continued rebuffing of her advances could result in “consequences” for Harry’s position in the school community) with a loud “NO” before he realised he had absolutely no plan or idea of how to further assist Sirius.
His own pathetic attempts at believable reasons to avoid the harpies’ aggressive advances flooded to the fore of his memory (salt. Which one of us is supposedly allergic to salt?) and in the absence of a ready excuse, Remus simply muttered “sorry he’s not available” which petered out to a pathetic upper inflection.
Dolores turned her watery, pouchy eyes on Remus and gave him her most unpleasantly threatening smile. “And whyever shouldn’t he be, Mr Lupin? And why is it that you are aware of Mr Black's apparent unavailability, but he himself is not?”
Remus’ long dormant stutter chose that moment to return in full staccato glory and he stammered uselessly as Dolores’ toad-like mouth spread into wider and wider sneer.
Then suddenly Sirius grabbed the back of Remus’ neck and planted a kiss squarely on his lips.
It was a chaste kiss, closed lips against his semi-parted ones, but Remus went from faltering in an attempt to produce any coherent words to melting into a stunned sigh of pleasure.
Sirius squeezed the back of his neck lightly and pulled away, his captivating thunderstorm eyes blinking open softly and, for an infinitesimal moment, Remus thought he saw a flicker of longing in them before Sirius cleared his throat and turned to face Dolores, who looked like someone had sicked on her shoes, and Rita, whose eyes were alight with the thrill of gossip, long nailed fingers twitching with desire to reach for her bejeweled phone.
“That’s why we’re never going to be available for your dinners, Dolores.” Sirius sneered her name as she continued to look disgusted. “So much for the ability to have a private life. Come on, babe, the kids will be waiting.”
Remus thought he might faint at the sudden joyous flipping his stomach did at the sound of Sirius saying ‘babe.’
Sirius’ hand slipped from Remus’ neck down his arm and intertwined his fingers around Remus’ own, tugging him forward through the school gate.
He followed dumbly, still unable to form any thought that wasn’t a desperate whimper of desire.
As soon as they were out of sight of Rita and Dolores, Sirius dropped his hand and turned to him, looking sheepish. “Sorry about that.” He said, sincerely. “I’d never normally just kiss you - I couldn’t think of anything else to get them to leave off.”
Remus could see Sirius’ concern at having kissed him without asking and allaying that
was a good distraction from the crushing disappointment (even though he had known it was an act) that none of that was real. Indeed, Sirius would ‘never’. (His gut panged painfully at that.)
“It’s fine! Honestly, don’t worry about it. Better deterrent than anything I could come up with. And I couldn’t think of anything to say anyway. I just hope it doesn’t land you in trouble with Marlene?” Remus said, valiantly struggling to keep his voice light and his sadness at bay.
“Marlene? Why would she be upset?” Sirius frowned. “She’s been at me to- I mean, she would be happy I’m getting any kisses, even if they’re just to head off overly zealous single mothers.” He barked a shaky laugh that seemed forced compared to the easy bursts that normally sprung from him.
Remus shifted slightly uncomfortable. Maybe Sirius’ and Marlene’s relationship was strained. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry?”
Sirius cocked his head like a curious dog. “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything?”
“Just sorry for the uh…well I’m sorry if your relationship isn’t- um. I’m just sorry.” Remus fumbled.
“What relationship?” Sirius asked.
Remus blinked. “Marlene? Harry’s godmother, you said?”
Sirius stared at him blankly for a moment before actually doubling over with laughter which devolved into hacking coughs until Sirius could right himself gasping “Fuck I need to stop smoking. Marlene is not my partner. Jesus she’s going to fucking die at this.” Sirius’ had a huge grin now. “Marls is a raging lesbian. Possibly gayer than I am.”
Remus was quite sure he was approaching the approximate shade of a beetroot as the meaning of Sirius’ words sunk in. “You’re-…?”
“Gay? Queer? Bent? Fruity? Flaming? Friend of Dorothy? Fairy? Nanc-”
“Okay I get the point.” Remus squeezed his eyes shut. “Um. Congratulations.” He winced, and looked at his shoes.
That was stupid.
He glanced up at Sirius and saw an odd expression on his face, almost sad.
“Right.” Sirius said. “Sorry about kissing you without asking. Genuinely. But, well, hopefully they’ll leave us alone now. Our boys are probably waiting.”
Remus jumped. Teddy!
He looked at his wristwatch and it was ten minutes after the bell. With a final harried nod at Sirius he speed walked down the path towards Ted’s classroom.
-
Harry spooned two large scoops of stroganoff over his bowtie pasta and glanced at his godfather who was sulkily stabbing at his own bowl.
“Y’alright Pads?” He asked, shovelling his mouth full as he walked over to the table.
His godfather grunted in the affirmative, indicating that he was definitely full of shit.
“Do you want to use your words?” Harry sing songed in his best imitation of a teacher voice.
“You are way too much like your dad. And for once I don’t mean that nicely.” Sirius glared at him.
Harry grinned. “Is this about how you snogged Ted’s dad?”
Sirius coughed. “I didn’t snog him! It was a peck at best! And just for show. He uh, well. He clearly wasn’t into it. Pretty sure he’s straight. And not into piercings or tatts.”
Harry snorted. “Yeah that ain’t it. Ted showed me a picture of his mum once. She had purple hair, a nose ring, and a full sleeve.”
“Right so he’s straight or it’s just me, specifically.” He grumbled sulkily.
Harry rolled his eyes.
-
“So is he as dumb as my da?” Teddy asked, putting a crisp into his mouth.
“Yup.” Harry said, popping the ‘p’. “Reckons your dad’s straight, or at least not into his whole tattoos and metal vibe.”
Teddy practically fell off the school bench laughing. “Are you kidding? My parents’ split cause they realised they weren’t the quirky weird kids who fell in love. They were the gay kids who didn’t clock it. My da’s just awkward as hell and your godfather is cool.”
It was Harry’s turn to laugh. “Nah man, he’s the biggest dork you’ve ever met. He’s also not that into metal. Listens to Diana Ross when he’s cleaning.”
“Who’s that?” Ted frowned.
Harry jumped up, flung his arms out wildly and sang “I’m coming out! I want the world to know I got to let it show!”
He plopped back down and grabbed Ted’s bag of crisps. “He ties his hair up in a scarf like in that old show I Love Lucy as well.”
Ted snorted. “God da would die. He gets overheated when he’s cleaning the house so he closes all the curtains and cleans in his jocks. It’s horrific.”
“God they’re perfect for each other.” Groaned Harry.
“So what do we do?”
-
“Pads!! You gotta help!”
Sirius jumped up so fast he smacked his head into his bike’s muffler. “Ow fuck shit what’s wrong?? What’s happened? Are you hurt?!” He grabbed his own smarting head in his hands. “Fuck me that hurt.”
Harry bit his cheek to hold back a laugh. “I’m fine. It’s not me it’s Mr Lupin.”
“What?!” Sirius’ head snapped towards Harry, alert like a dog. “What’s wrong with Remus??”
“The Toad caught him. She bullied him into going to dinner with her at The Three Broomsticks. At 6. Tonight. You gotta go save him!!”
Sirius checked his watch. “Six? Fuck I need a shower.” And he bolted out of the garage.
-
“Da!! You need to go to The Three Broomsticks tonight! At 6!”
Remus frowned at his watch. “What are you talking about Ted?”
“The PTA dinner!! If you don’t go Ms Umbridge’s daughter will steal my lunch for a month.” Teddy put on his best teddy bear eyes (which he had perfected by age 2).
Remus coughed his tea. “She’ll what?? How do they let that little beast get away with that??”
Ted gave a theatrical sigh. “You know Millicent is in the Inquisitorial Squad thing. Plus I’m pretty sure all the teachers are scared of her mum. Da I’m sorry I forgot but you have to go you can’t make me go through this pleeeeeeeeeeeease.” Teddy clasped his hands and pouted, which was perhaps a bridge too far but his dad was a sucker and was already panicking over whether Ms Umbridge would be offended if he was in his work clothes.
Remus was pacing back and forth, texting, then torn between grabbing his wallet, retying his tie and putting on his shoes. “Percy is on his way over to watch you. No ice cream and you need to wash your hair tonight, no arguments and I will know. Be good!!” Remus shouted as he walked out the door.
Ordinarily Ted would be annoyed at being watched by the stuffy, hard-nosed and completely lame Percy (seriously who wears a three piece suit to babysit?!) instead of his infinitely cooler brothers Bill and Charlie, but tonight he resigned himself to a night of being regaled about Percy’s dumb job as an Executive Assistant which he seemed to think was much more “executive” than “assistant.”
Hopefully his suffering would be worth it.
-
Remus walked into the pub at 6.03pm and was hoping Dolores wouldn’t set her horrible daughter on Teddy anyway for his tardiness.
The owner, Madame Rosmerta, gave him a huge, knowing grin and chirped “Ah! Mr Lupin! You’re expected.”
He gave her a weak grin as she lifted the bar flap, and gestured at him to follow her. He trudged behind her as she led him to the staircase that led to private dining rooms on the second floor. He winced as he pictured Dolores’ toad-like smile and firmly set curls topped with the velvet-bowed Alice bands she favoured. This was going to be like chewing aluminium foil. Torture.
Rosmerta led him not into a large dining room with a group table full of the chattering PTA members, chaired by Dolores, as he expected. Instead she led him to one of the smaller side rooms. With a small table, set for two. The table had a fucking rose in a small vase in the middle. He blanched.
“Um. Uh a-are you sure this is the right table?” He stuttered, mouth dry and tacky.
“Oh yes, quite sure.” Rosmerta said with a wicked grin. “Drink?”
“Wine. A lot of it.”
Rosmerta tittered and nodded with an “As you say dear,” as she left the room.
-
Sirius burst into The Three Broomsticks and scanned the room wildly, but he saw no alarmingly sexy honey-and-steel curls, nor any alarmingly rigid tawny curls set with a bow either. So they weren’t in the main room.
Quickly dismissing the front bar he bounded for the staircase to the dining rooms and practically barrelled through Madame Rosmerta, as he bolted upwards.
He bashed open the first door and was met by the shocked faces of a couple who had been holding hands, a plate with “Happy 10th Anniversary” written in chocolate around a lava cake between them.
“Fuck. Shit. Sorry. Uh, happy returns?” He ducked out before the couple recovered.
He moved quickly to the next door and pushed it open.
This tableau had an altogether different vibe.
A tall, lanky man in an oversized purl knit cardigan, horn rimmed glasses and trousers an inch too short sat at a table alone, an ice bucket with a bottle of open wine stuck out of it and a glass with a pour almost up to the rim was on the table. Remus’ curls caught in the candlelight and glowed a burnished bronze, his face thrown between light and shadow in a way that highlighted the world-weary creases of his forehead.
“Remus!” Sirius exclaimed and Remus started.
“Oh! Sirius! What are you doing here?” Remus said, his face relaxing and brightening even as confusion painted his expression.
Sirius paused. His instinct was to say “Rescuing you” but Remus was sitting alone with a bottle of wine and did not seem much in need of rescuing...
“I, uh. Harry told me there was a PTA meeting. Thought I should come. You know. Community spirit!” He did a weak fist pump and Remus smirked.
“Yes, I know you’ve always kept the PTA front of mind.” He teased. “I’m, um, also here for that, but Rosmerta directed me to this table set for two and I’m very much dreading Dolores’ arrival.” He peeked behind Sirius and hushed his tone as he said Dolores’ name, as though afraid he’d summon her.
Sirius reached up anxiously to his hair. He wasn’t renowned for being shy so fuck it. “Well we could continue the thing from the other day instead. Y’know. When I kissed you.” Remus’ cheeks went noticeably pink. “We could - I mean, you could pretend to be gay and we could pretend to be on a date that’ll happen after this meeting thing. Then she’d um, have to leave you alone about dating her.”
Remus was deeply flushed by now. “Wouldn’t be pretending.” He managed in a somewhat choked voice.
“What?” Sirius said sharply, his sudden hope making him harsher than wise.
Remus stuttered. “To-to be g-g-um I like men.” He finished looking at his feet frowning. “And I’m now considering how pathetic it is that I’m 39 years old and you’re the first person aside from my ex-wife and son I’ve told that to.”
Sirius sat down at the table. It seemed like something you should be sitting for.
“Oh that’s… that’s big. Are you okay?”
Remus suddenly blanched. “Oh God I’ve made it sound like I’m a blushing virgin.” He smacked his hand against his head. “I’ve dated men. But on the apps you’re not really telling someone who thought you were straight that you’re queer. That’s what I meant. Not that you would- that we would- oh my god I mean I’ve had sex with men! Holy fuck I did not just say that- I was not presuming that we would- I mean you’re great and very good looking - fuck do you know how handsome you actually are? Oh dear I seem to be having one of my panic attacks where I say everything out loud that I normally wouldn’t and now I want to die, please just kiss me again before I jump off a bridge, thank you?”
Sirius, who was doubled over in silent laughter by this point, looked up and the shell shocked, frazzled, and finally silent Remus, horror etched on every millimetre of his beautiful face.
Sirius stood and surged across the small table to press Remus’ lips against his for the second time. This time there was no awkward freeze, instead Remus’ fingers slipped up into Sirius’ hair and his mouth opened eagerly for Sirius’ tongue, soft moans from each of them mingling as they kissed.
Remus was alight with joy and sensation as he felt the rough scrape of Sirius’ two-day scruff, delighting in the contrast of the coarseness of his facial hair and the silky ribbons of the long locks between his fingers.
The kiss broke and they panted each other’s air, silver and gold eyes meeting and crinkling with mirth.
“You are fucking hot when you’re panicking. Also ridiculous. But mostly hot.”
“Well if my panic attacks regularly ended in kisses with men as attractive as you I would definitely stop taking my meds.” Remus joked.
Sirius barked a short laugh and kissed him again, Remus hummed happily as he returned it.
“Oh your boys will be pleased.” Madame Rosmerta’s voice came from the door.
Remus and Sirius broke apart and looked over.
“Sorry?” Said Remus, still sheepish at being caught kissing, despite being perfectly within their rights as two consenting adults.
“Got a rather long winded booking call this afternoon from young Master Potter. He said to set up a little romantic table for two and to pretend the booking was with Madam Umbridge, but was really for the pair of you, because, and I’m quoting here ‘they’re both as dumb as garden gnomes and if we don’t fix it they’ll not get their shit together until they’re in a bloody nursing home.’”
“That little shit.” Sirius growled. “He’s getting grounded…and maybe that Lego set he’s been bugging me for.” Sirius grinned and squeezed Remus’ hand. “But only if you agree to a definitely-not-fake date.”
Remus smiled. “The shops are still open and I’ve already sorted babysitting for tonight. Teddy wants the new Pokémon Lego set. He can build it while he’s grounded. Dinner, the Lego store then ice cream?”
Sirius beamed. “And tomorrow at the school gates, can I kiss you not only as a protective charm against Lycra-lionesses, but because you’re really fucking hot?”
“Only if you wear the neon Lycra. Rita’s style was starting to grow on me.” Remus teased.
“We’re stopping at Lululemon as well.”