Chapter Text
Sunday 14th August 1977
Today was the last day before the Potter’s got back.
Sirius and Remus had spent all morning cleaning the house. Despite the fact that Sirius did not host any parties, it did get quite dirty with just the two of them practically living here.
And yes, like James said, he washed the sheets.
It took longer to clean than expected—the two got distracted quite a bit in the kitchen. And the bathroom. And the bedroom. And the closet—okay, listen, Sirius was taking what he could get before he’d be cockblocked by James and his friends.
Nevertheless, the house was sparkling by the time they got done—Sirius didn’t think it was ever this shiny before. The Potter’s better be grateful for all their hard work, though he doesn’t think he can step foot in the kitchen to help them cook anytime soon.
Now it was midafternoon and the two decided to go grab something to eat. Nobody had declared it a date, but both of them had taken a shower and changed into a pair of their nicer jeans and shirts—Remus even put some product in his hair, making his curls actually look like curls.
It made Sirius smile.
By the time they made their way over to Mary Jane’s—a little cafe in the midst of shops downtown—their faces were flushed from the heat.
Sirius gathered his hair that was sticking to the back of his neck and quickly tossed it in a bun, sighing when he felt the air conditioning blow on his damp skin.
His gaze dropped to the chalkboard sign in front of them, reading to seat themselves. Sirius threw a smile in Remus’ direction before leading them to the back where a jukebox sat, playing some Bobby Vinton. He’d have to change that soon.
A few moments later a server came over, dropping menus down on the wooden table in front of them. Sirius grabbed it, not bothering to look up at the worker as he began to read it.
“Anything I can get started for you? Drinks? Our weekly special—peach pie with a drop of cool whip?”
Sirius’ eyes flickered up to Remus, about to translate if needed, and saw something curious. There was a pink tint to Remus’ face—different from the flushed cheeks he got when hot. His lips were parted, eyes slightly wide.
He then glanced up to the server and everything made sense.
A twisted feeling in Sirius’ chest appeared, making his eyes automatically narrow at the worker.
His hair was blond and shaggy—practically looking like the hay Sirius and Remus fucked on the other day; his eyes were blue—muddy blue at best like somebody had took a shit and swirled it in water; his features were sharp and round at the same time with pronounced dimples that just made his cheeks look like they had pre-matured wrinkles.
He wasn’t attractive. He was ugly. The server was not hot. Sirius didn’t see what Remus was seeing in him. At all. In fact, he wanted to get up and leave or maybe punch the guy in the throat for making his…well, Remus, look all flustered.
Has Remus looked at Sirius like that before?
“Coke’s fine.” Sirius spoke, an edge to his voice.
The ugly server nodded and turned his attention to Remus. “And for you?”
Remus blinked, seeming to realize the man was talking to him. He glanced over to Sirius, giving him a nod.
“He’ll take a Coke too.”
“Alright. I’ll be back with your drinks soon.”
Sirius waited until the straw hair disappeared before snapping his head to Remus.
“You like him!”
Remus reeled back. “What?”
“Don’t lie to me. I saw the look on your face.”
Remus puckered. “I don’t like him. I don’t even know what his name is.”
“You think he’s cute.”
“When did I say that?”
“You blushed.”
“I’m hot!”
“Yeah,” Sirius scoffed, throwing his body back into the cushion. “For him.”
Remus gives Sirius a look before a slow grin forms on his lips. “You’re jealous.”
“I don’t know that sign,” Sirius lied.
Remus threw his head back with a laugh.
“It’s not funny!” Sirius exclaimed.
“It’s pretty funny,” Remus wiped the tear from his eye.
“You—“
“Here are your drinks,” the ugly server—Sirius looks down at his nametag—Stan (who the hell names their kid Stan?) spoke.
Sirius glared up at him, giving a tight smile.
Stan gave a cautious look to Sirius—good—and brought his notepad back out. “Do you need more time or are you ready to order?”
“Considering we just got here, just a bit more time, thanks.”
Stan blinked. “Okay,” he nodded before walking away.
“Fucking bitch,” Sirius muttered under his breath, looking down at the menu.
He felt a kick on his shins, forcing his eyes to snap up at Remus.
“Sirius,” Remus signed. “Stop. You’re being rude.”
“He started it.”
“He’s doing his job.”
“Well, he’s making you all horny.”
Remus eyebrows raised. “Where did you—“ he stopped himself. “Just because I find him attractive doesn’t mean I’m horny for him.”
“So you are attracted to him!”
“Can I not be?” Remus raised an eyebrow. “It’s an observation, not a feeling.”
Sirius pierced his lips.
“Will it make you feel better if I say I’m only horny for you?”
Sirius thought for a moment and nodded. “Yes. It does.”
“Good. Now, what’s good here?”
Sirius straightened and immediately went into detail about their sandwiches, immediately forgetting about his jealousy of Stan.
Now that he’s thinking about it, it’s quite amusing watching Remus interact with someone he finds attractive. It’s only making Sirius realize that this is how Remus used to act with him when they first met—all shy and awkward. Instead of feeling jealousy, he’s now amused and egging their conversations on with Stan, wanting to see how flustered Remus can get with both of their stares pinned on him.
The answer was a lot—Remus had to excuse himself to the restroom after Stan dropped their food off, giving Remus a wink while explaining something about their sandwiches and how toasty they were.
Sirius momentarily followed Remus, leaving their food unattended—something Sirius would only do for this boy. He pushed the bathroom doors open, not surprised to see Remus bent over the sink, splashing his face with water.
He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms while waiting for Remus to notice he was there. It only took a moment before Remus straightened, wiping his eyes and catching a glimpse of Sirius in the mirror. He jumped before whirling around, eyes accusatory.
“That was not fair,” Remus signed.
“What?” Sirius smiled. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Remus cocked an eyebrow. “How did you get him to flirt with me too?”
Sirius shrugged. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”
Remus stared at Sirius, his eyes narrowing before stalking forward, pushing him against the wall, his mouth needy and open.
It’s safe to say their sandwiches were cool by the time they got back to their seats—Sirius even gave
Stan a little wave, thinking the server wasn’t so bad now that he got what he wanted.
***
The two got back to Wren’s just before 7 o'clock, their arms full of shopping bags with bright smiles on their faces.
After eating at the cafe, Sirius dragged Remus to the record store where he inevitably bought vinyls—six, to be exact—and then Remus dragged Sirius to the bookstore where he inevitably bought books—five, to be exact. And then both decided to continue shopping, going into every single store. Some of them weren’t even stores—they walked into nail salons and spas, immediately getting hounded by the workers. They gave in to the spa treatment but refused nails despite both of them needing their cuticles to be cut.
With muscles like jelly they continued shopping, ending up at a new thrift store that opened just a couple days ago. The boys thrived there—well, at least Sirius did—and bought new clothes, ugly trinkets, even a camera that Remus was practically drooling over.
Apparently they didn’t make it anymore—Sirius understands why—but it was something Remus always wanted to have. He wasn’t even sure if it worked and yet he still bought it, saying how he’ll fix it himself.
Remus the handyman, everyone.
It was the most fun date Sirius has had before, though he’s never really been on one anyway. Was this even a date? Whatever, it didn’t matter—he still had fun. Best part is, he didn’t run into anyone he knew. It was just him and Remus in their own little world for one last time.
Before the Potter’s got back, that is.
Sirius tried not to think about that throughout the day, but his mind always slipped back to the thought. He couldn’t help it—he just wanted more time alone with Remus.
He’d get that eventually—later tonight, they decided—but as of now they were hungry and Wren was cooking up a feast, it smelled like.
“I can drop this in your room,” Sirius offered, starting to take Remus’ bags from his arms.
“No,” Remus immediately signed, surprising Sirius. “I mean, I want to show Wren what we got. Just set it over there.”
Ah, Sirius nodded at Remus’ good thinking and placed all the bags in front of the television cabinet. Wren would get a kick out of some of the stuff they bought—Sirius couldn’t help getting that ugly little clown.
“Oh, you’re finally home,” Wren appeared under the archway in an apron with her curly hair braided into two. She threw a glance over at Remus, then looked back at Sirius. “Come set the table,” she signed while talking. “We’re eating outside tonight, it’s cooled off some.”
Sirius made his way into the kitchen, weaving his way around Wren who had multiple things going on on each surface. He grabbed the plates and cups while Remus grabbed the silverware and pushed the screen door open with his hip, a wave of humid air crushing him yet again.
“Cooled off my ass,” he muttered while setting down the plates on the white folding table. Sirius wasn’t sure when the lawn was mowed or when Wren moved this table and chairs out here, but he decided not to question it.
Remus was beside him in a blink of an eye, setting down the forks and knives. Their hands brushed against one another and Sirius still felt a shock of electricity fall down his nerves. How Remus could make him feel like this despite knowing how he felt inside of him was beyond Sirius. He wasn’t complaining; he liked it.
A few minutes later after folding napkins into odd shapes, both trying to figure out how to make a swan, Wren called them inside to bring food out.
Sirius wasn’t sure what the occasion was, but it had to be something—Wren made enough to feed the block. Maybe she just wanted leftovers.
Black smoke waved in front of Sirius as he sat down, the breeze cooling such a humid night. Wren had struck a match and lit the long white candles placed in the middle of the table, adding some ambiance to the serene view of her backyard (the wired fence was broken and slanted, her shed was covered with vines, and honestly she needed to power wash the siding but that was neither here nor there).
They dug in quickly; Sirius took a portion of everything, but especially that baked mac and cheese that was like a siren calling his name. He learned over this past month that it proved to be difficult holding a conversation with his hands while also trying to eat using his hands, so Sirius would scarf down food, reply to any questions or add his own comments, then become silent and gorge again.
However, Wren and Remus seemed to have no problem multitasking, bantering back and forth while also shoving food in their own mouths. It was impressive, truly.
“You didn’t have to make so much,” Remus signed, his face glowing in the candlelight across from him.
“I know, but—“ Wren glanced over at Sirius who was mid-bite of the chicken wing. She signed something fast—Sirius didn’t even know how she moved her hands at that speed—and Remus replied just as quickly.
Sirius felt like they were doing it on purpose—usually they’d slow down for his understanding—but truthfully he couldn’t care less. This wing needed all his attention, so he gave the two some privacy to their conversation as he looked down at meat in all its glory.
Their conversation didn’t last long, and clearly it didn’t go well, Sirius determined as he glanced back up, seeing the two having a staredown. Deciding it was time to break whatever tension they had, he wiped his hands on his crumpled napkin and began signing.
“Did Remus tell you we went to a spa today?” Sirius asked Wren. “They put cucumbers on our eyes like in the magazines.”
It was effective, this topic, and whatever had happened between the two was dropped; Wren letting out an amused laugh as she replied with surprise.
Dinner was a success from then on, though Sirius still caught the looks Wren and Remus gave one another. He wasn’t one to pry (yes he was) but he wanted to know what happened.
“Are you okay?” Sirius asked once the door shut behind them, the spiced scent of the Potter’s house making his limbs relax.
“I’m fine,” Remus replied, his smile struggling to reach his eyes.
“Remus…” Sirius sighed. “Is it because I made you get that shirt? It was supposed to be funny but—“
This time Remus did genuinely smile. “No, it’s not because of the t-shirt.”
Sirius pierced his lips. “Then what?”
“Nothing,” Remus shook his head. “I’m just tired.”
He knew that wasn’t the reason—or at least all of it—but Sirius decided to let it go. They could talk about it tomorrow.
“Okay,” Sirius signed. “Let’s go sit down.”
He grabbed Remus’ hand, intertwining their fingers, leading him over to the couch. Gently pushing back on Remus’ shoulders, he forced the boy to fall backwards, soon straddling his lap afterwards.
Sirius linked his arms around Remus’ neck, looking down at the boy. The room was dim, the only light coming from the street lamps outside. It made Remus’ skin glow with a warm hue, half of his face shadowed from Sirius’ body catching the other half of the yellow light.
The golden eyes danced between Sirius’, pupils large and eyelashes batting unknowingly. He drove Sirius insane, how pretty this boy was. With his long scar and freckles and his perfectly shaped lips…fuck, Sirius was so in love.
Instead of kissing Remus like he so desperately wanted to, Sirius opted for placing his head in the crook of Remus’ neck, taking a deep breath and sighing contently. Remus pushed his body closer, squeezing him tight as they hugged.
Remus smelt of his apple shampoo, cinnamon, and whatever old lady laundry detergent Wren used. It made Sirius dizzy with want and simultaneously fall asleep in the boy’s arms. He felt safe. Comfortable. He trusted Remus, and Remus trusted him.
They sat like that for a while—Sirius wasn’t sure how long, he was too busy breathing in and out, simply resting in the boy’s arms—and Remus’ grip never got any looser. Grabbing onto Sirius like he was about to slip through his fingers. The clinginess of it all made Sirius feel warm and gooey inside, glad to know that somebody wanted to be around him—needed to.
Though when an idea struck Sirius he pulled back slowly, surprised to see Remus blinking awake. He had been asleep and still had a strong hold on Sirius. How fucking adorable.
Sirius gave him a soft kiss on the lips before climbing off, walking over to the floor lamp and switching it on, allowing the burnt orange to paint the living room like it was sunset. He then stretched his way across to the console record player, squatting down to pick through the albums.
“Yesss!” He mumbled in triumph, quickly taking the vinyl out of its sleeve, flipping it to side B and placing it on the table. He made sure the volume was turned all the way up before dropping the needle, the distinct sound of a Mellotron echoing throughout the living room.
He turned around to Remus with a grin, swiftly striding over and pulling the boy up to a stance. He guided Remus closer to the table where the speakers were vibrating the floorboards, their hands still intertwined.
“Let me take you down ‘cause I’m going to Strawberry Fields,” Sirius sang along, his body slowly moving to the beat, making Remus’ as well.
“Nothing is real,” Sirius grinned at the look of recognition on Remus’ face, the cloud of sleep quickly wiping away from his eyes. “And nothing to get hung about!”
He twirled himself while still attached to Remus, “Strawberry Fields forever…”
“Did Wren tell you?” Remus asked, his hands dropped from Sirius’ to sign.
Misunderstanding all you see…
“Tell me what?” Sirius asked.
“This song.”
Sirius shook his head.
Remus didn’t look convinced, signing hesitantly. “My mom used to sing it to me.”
Sirius smiled. “I figured—you had a strawberry stand, right?”
Remus blinked and nodded, a complicated look on his face forming. Sirius immediately closed in, eyebrows furrowing when he saw the tears forming in Remus’ eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked. “I can turn it off—“
“No,” Remus signed quickly. “No. I…” he wiped his eyes. “I just hear it again. Her voice.”
“Oh,” Sirius breathed. He bit his lip, then offered a hand. “Well, let’s dance to it then.”
Remus smiled, taking his hand.
Nothing is real, and nothing to get hung about…
The two twirled and rocked in the middle of the living room, their touches warm and caring. Neither of their smiles were wiped from their mouths as they sang along—Sirius even thinks he heard a murmur from Remus under the boy’s breath as they cradled each other, hands wrapped around each other's waists.
They danced through the last couple songs of the album, switching over to Abbey Road. Truth be told, Sirius didn’t enjoy The Beatles all that much, but he loved seeing Remus recognize the beats, mouthing the words despite not hearing them. He’d do anything for Remus, and that meant dancing to four British boys singing about an octopus’ garden.
By the time the album ended the boy’s were sweaty and somewhat high—they took a smoke break in between sides. It was much more enjoyable to dance while Sirius felt like he was floating, like every small touch Remus gifted him was a lightning bolt tickling him.
Eventually they did begin tickling each other instead of dancing—well, more or less poking. Sirius let out a screech each time Remus did, jumping away. The other boy got a kick out of it, chasing Sirius around the house with his pointer finger outstretched, ready to poke.
Sirius’ heart was beating fast as he raced up the carpeted steps on all fours, knowing Remus was right behind him. He flew down the hallway, swinging around into his bedroom. Sirius quickly grabbed the door handle, screaming with delight as he slammed it shut, only for a hand to catch it.
He pressed his body against the wood, trying to push it shut while weak with laughter. Sirius felt like a little kid again playing tag—it was fun.
However, he didn’t last long—Remus eventually body slammed the door, sending Sirius to stumble forward, just barely catching himself from face planting on the ground.
He whirled around, eyes widening when he realized Remus had already grabbed a hold of his waist, picking him up and throwing him onto his bed.
“Oof,” Sirius bounded against the mattress, his body bouncing up and down up and down before eventually sinking into the covers. Blank strands of hair covered his face and he didn’t even have time to blow it away before Remus was on top of him, grinning wolfishly.
Sirius’ eyes widened, his stomach pooling with heat. A spark of electricity passed between the two, and Remus suddenly seemed to forget all about the poking game.
He swiped the hair off of Sirius’ face, gently tucking it behind his ear before crashing their lips together. Sirius immediately moaned, his legs linking around Remus’ waist, pulling him down.
Remus complied, grounding down on Sirius while licking into his mouth and doing that thing with his teeth never failed to make Sirius dizzy.
They clawed at each other, desperate and greedy; hands in hair, gripped at the root as if it were grass; eyes rolling back in pleasure like dice; sloppy kisses against warm skin; sunken fingernails marking their body like freshly sprouted freckles; salty streams of tears falling into their mouths, hydrating their dry lips—
Sirius’ hands flew to Remus’ cheeks, pulling the boy back to look at him. His racing heart sank when he saw the river of tears marking Remus’ cheeks, his eyebrows furrowing with concern. “Are you okay?” He asked in a pant.
Remus licked his lips and nodded, dipping his head back to kiss Sirius feverishly. Overwhelmed with pleasure Sirius gave in before pulling back once more.
“Remus,” he spoke, wiping away the stream of tears. “Stop. Slow down.” Sirius placed his palms on Remus’ bare chest. “Breathe.”
He took a deep breath, slowly guiding Remus’ breathing just as the boy had done for him multiple times. “I’m not going anywhere,” Sirius whispered, his eyebrows drawn in worry. “Just breathe.”
It took a moment for Remus to catch his breath and stop crying, and when he did it seemed a fog was cleared from his glossy eyes. Sirius wiped the leftover tears off his soft skin, making Remus’ eyes flutter shut at the movement.
Sirius slowly sat up, forcing Remus to sit back. He held the boy’s hand and looked at him, his eyes darting across Remus’ face. “What’s wrong?”
Remus’ gaze was trained on Sirius’ lips, reading his words. He shook his head.
“Remus. Moony. Tell me.”
Remus worked his jaw, licking his lips. His hands slipped out from Sirius’ and were unvarying in the air.
“It’s okay,” Sirius signed. “You can tell me anything.”
He listened to the big breath Remus inhaled then exhaled, seemingly calming himself. “I love you,” he signed.
Sirius’ eyes widened, his ears ringing static.
“I love you,” Remus signed. “And I’m scared.”
It wasn’t any better the second time, but at least Sirius knew he wasn’t seeing things.
“I’m sorry.”
At this Sirius finally came out of shock, his head shaking furiously. “No—no don’t be sorry,” Sirius signed quickly. “I love you too.”
It was Remus’ turn to have a look of shock on his face.
“I love you.” Sirius repeated. “It hurts sometimes, how much.” He confessed. “It scares me too.”
The two looked at each other, saying everything and absolutely nothing. No words needed to be muttered—no signs needed to be formed. It was an understanding. They both knew.
“Together?” Sirius signed quietly—if a sign could be quiet.
Remus kissed him. Soft and loving.
Sirius kissed him back. Soft and loving.
***
Sirius woke up to cool sheets against his worn body, stretching languidly as he let out a loud yawn. The sun beamed through the window, alerting Sirius that it was not, in fact, morning, rather the afternoon.
It didn’t surprise Sirius—Remus and him were up all night making love.
Love.
They loved each other.
Remus confessed his love.
Sirius confessed his love.
He has always found the concept of love stupid—who cares if someone said they loved you? It meant nothing if they didn’t act on it, didn’t show you their love.
But Remus acted on it, showed it, and said it.
And now Sirius understood the word.
The butterflies he felt when Remus would pause in the middle of their kiss only to sign “I love you” would never compare to anything else.
The feeling he got was syrupy, like the tanned hands were pouring honey inside his chest as they formed the three signs. And it felt the same, signing it back, only his hands were slippery and wet, trying to shake it off as fast as he could so Sirius could continue with the kiss.
It was bliss. Soft and gentle, but this time whispers of love pooled around them, singing like buzzing cicada Sirius could never unhear. His favorite part was falling asleep in Remus’ arms, their skin sticking together. It was hot—Sirius was sweating—and yet he cuddled in closer, sighing when Remus tucked a strand of hair behind his ear as he kissed his forehead. A small press of love, but one that swirled in Sirius’ mind until sleep overtook him, his body melting into the safety that was Remus.
He smiled unconsciously, turning to the side to grab ahold of the warm body sleeping beside—
Sirius blinked his eyes open, eyebrows furrowing when he felt nothing but the silk sheet under his fingertips.
He propped himself on his forearm, rubbing his eye with the other hand. Noises from downstairs trickled up to his room—Remus had probably gotten up to make breakfast. His smile reappeared at the thought, plopping his head back down on the nice cool pillow.
It took a second before his eyes caught a glimpse of a letter on the opposite pillow, making him sit back up. Sirius reached out and grabbed the thin, lined paper—the same type in the notebook he and Remus uses—and unfolded it curiously, multiple papers falling out the one. Sirius picked the first on top and began reading.
To My Star,
When I first met you, I knew you were something special. Even before knowing your name—let alone the meaning—you became a shining light in my eyes. And when I learned your name, I immediately knew how I would translate it into my language.
Forever.
I told you I would tell you what I meant by it, and I’m writing this to keep my promise even if I have broken others.
You, Sirius, I will love forever.
I knew from the start that I would love you. Even if we hadn’t became friends or lovers what we are now. Simply catching you ducking in the window was enough—I knew you’d be lingering in the back of my mind forever, no matter what.
I never want to forget you. I will never forget you. You will be with me forever, I will love you forever, despite only knowing each other for such a little amount of time.
Every night I when I look up and see you, think of you, know that you are eternally shining in my eyes. You are someone I will never let go of, never want to push away or leave, and for that I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I’m sorry I left this way. I understand you will be mad at me and I can’t help but want you to be, but selfishly, I hope you aren’t.
There are so many things I wish I had told you, opened up to you about and explained, because truly you’re the only person I can talk to. You’re the only person who has treated me like a human being, someone deserving of your time and attention and love. I will never understand why I’m so glad I got to experience it for once in my life.
I tried to think of ways to tell you I had to leave, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin what we had, to rush our love, to see you cry because of me. It’s fucked up, I know that, but this is the way it had to be.
I’m leaving to live with my parents again. It was always the plan to just stay here for the summer, but now I wish I could stay forever. But I can’t. I lied to you, when I said my mom was fine. She isn’t. She’s gotten worse since her surgery last month. She wants to do hospice care—doesn’t want to fight anymore. I need to focus my attention on her, and if I were to write to you I worry that my focus would fall back onto you.
I’m sorry.
I’ve written this so many times and I still cannot express how I feel. How sorry I am. How much I love you.
You’ve taught me trust again, to love and how to be loved. I never thanked you for it. So I’m thanking you now.
Thank you, Sirius Black. My love. My Star.
I love you and I don’t think I will ever stop. It’s a forever thing. You’re my forever thing.
I know I have no room to request anything, but I am anyway—please listen to the crickets for me; I don’t want them to be silent anymore.
Love forever,
Your Moon.
“Sirius, I’m home!” James sang from the end of the hallway, his voice muffled and non-existent to Sirius. “You’ll be sad to know I didn’t gangba—woah.”
Letters were spread around Sirius like a blanket, except Sirius wasn’t warm. His body felt ice cold, heart an empty chamber of denial. His eyes flicked up to James who was looking down at the mess; his eyebrows drawn in concern.
“What’s wrong?”
A sob wretched out of Sirius’ throat, his body collapsing on itself. His wailing seemed to be never ending, rapid and chopped as his chest heaved—he felt his heart breaking into a million pieces. Long strands of his black hair fell over Sirius’ shoulders as he hunched forward, his weeping turning into silent gasps, unable to breathe.
This was a feeling Sirius never felt before—something he’d wish on nobody. Warm hands were placed around his shoulders but they weren’t Remus; a voice whispered consolation in his ear but it wasn’t Remus; lips pressed against his temple but it wasn’t his Moon; fingers intertwined between his own but it wasn’t his Love.
And when he finally came back to himself, his body numb and heavy, feeling the embrace of his best friend who was no doubt confused as to why Sirius was a mess, the brown-eyed boy had mused, likely to himself, “there’s a cricket.”
A beat of silence passed, and Sirius listened to it chirp.