Chapter Text
When Remus Lupin met Sirius Black for the first time, he very nearly killed him. Now, it wasn’t entirely his fault, something he would maintain for the rest of his life, and Sirius being as dramatic as he was would often remind the taller, tawny-haired man of his very harrowing near-death experience at the front bumper of his car.
The truth of it was, Sirius Black was perched on the kerb wearing a bowler hat, poufy shirt-sleeves, a vest, a monocle which actually worked and was the reason his vision was blurred in the one eye, skin-tight leather trousers, and he had a skateboard under his arm. Remus Lupin was behind the wheel of his car which was held together by prayer and twist-ties, and was cruising along at a reasonable speed considering London traffic, when the strange steampunk-themed man dropped the skateboard to the pavement and rolled into traffic.
Letting out a terrified scream, Remus released the clutch and the car shuddered to a halt, but not before catching Sirius’ backside and sending him tumbling to the ground.
Panicked and near hysteria, Remus jumped out and skidded to his knees, shredding the skin under his holy jeans, but he didn’t care. He was staring down at his bizarrely dressed man and his breath was coming in heaving gasps. “Oh my god, please say you’re alive.”
“Are you death? The Angel of Death? You’re better looking than I imagined.”
Remus gulped. “Shit. Someone’s phoned for emergency services, I’m sure. You need to get to hospital immediately.”
“Can I see your mobile?” he asked.
Remus frowned. “My…what?” But he was already handing it over. The fallen man tapped on the screen in a bizarre pattern and then handed it back. “What did you…?” Remus couldn’t see that this man had done anything at all, so he slipped it back into his pocket and checked round for bleeding. There was none, thank god.
Sirius attempted to move, but Remus pinned him down to the ground until the ambulance arrived. Eventually he was treated and sent on his way after a taller man with messy hair and glasses showed up laughing—of all bloody things—and piled Sirius into the back seat.
Remus gave his statement, corroborated by witnesses who saw Sirius jump on the skateboard and dart into traffic without looking, and he was set on his own. He was trembling and quite shook up, more than he’d ever been as he got back into his car and sped off. He was at a crawling pace now, but it was better than hitting strange lads on skateboard wearing monocles.
***
Remus was in class the next day. He was a Grad student attempting the first leg of his journey to become an astrophysicist. Honestly, he just really loved space. Remus had been a poorly child, diagnosed as the years went on with a condition called Lupus. A rare autoimmune disease that was particularly vicious in men. The kind that kept him on loads of medications which made him feel worse than he did better. One in particular that was destroying his eyesight, starting first with his sense of colour, and now moving on to making everything a terrible blur.
He went to a few support groups as a teen but after losing four members in the first six months he realised he couldn’t take it. He was bad enough facing his own mortality and the likelihood he’d die early into his adulthood. He didn’t need to be reminded of it daily.
For now he was on his regiment of medication and frequent hospital stays and doing everything in his power to keep his stress to a minimum.
Which for a grad student, was no easy feat. His only saving grace was Lily Evans who invited him to share her flat where he massively underpaid rent, and hardly spent anything on food, and she mother-henned him constantly.
But it worked.
He was musing on the accident though, not paying attention to his lecture which was a mistake because he had to use his notes in the lab the next week. The strange man in the strange clothes had dominated his thoughts, and not just because of the accident—though he was wondering if he was okay. Had he been concussed? Or otherwise grievously injured?
“WHEN I’M FAT AND OLD AND MY KIDS THINK I’M A JOKE COS I MOVE A LITTLE SLOW WHEN I DANCE.”
The music blared out, and it took Remus a full five seconds to realise it was coming from his mobile. “What the fuck,” he hissed. He fumbled and attempted to silence it, but it refused to be silenced. Face redder than it had ever been, he darted into the corridor and swiped it to answer. “Yes?”
“Rude way to answer the phone, innit?”
The voice was unfamiliar, and Remus, still so flustered, pressed his forehead against the wall. “Sorry, who is this?”
“Sirius Black.”
“What? Who?”
“The bloke you cruelly and viciously ran down with your car yesterday.”
Remus’ head snapped up. “That I… I did no such…did you…” He stopped and took a breath. “Did you do this to my mobile?”
“I’m very clever.”
“Are you in hospital?” Remus demanded.
“I was.” His voice went sombre and low. “It was a near miss. I almost died. What’s your name, by the way?”
“Remus,” he answered absently, then shook his head. “Wait, you almost died? You did not. You were cleared to leave.”
“Prongsies made me go in for an x-ray to make sure there wouldn’t be any lasting damage. As it is I’m in bed and might be for days. Do you have any idea how many lectures I’m missing?”
Remus’ cheeks went red. “Are you really?”
“Luckily I have amazing friends who are taking all my notes and doing my homework.”
Remus swiped his hand across his forehead. “What did you do to my mobile? That went off during my lecture.”
Sirius cackled. “Oh I’d hoped I’d catch you somewhere like that. Did you like my little touch?”
Remus blinked for a second. “Your little touch.”
“You know. Because it’s an Irish song. Well, Irish-y. And you’re Irish.”
“I’m not bloody Irish!” Remus realised he was shouting. “Have you ever met an Irish person?”
“Loads,” Sirius defended. “Loads of them. All the time.”
“You live in the UK, how is it possible you’ve met none. Or at least couldn’t tell the damned difference.” Remus was annoyed now and missing most of his lecture for this sodding twat who had thrown himself in front of his car.
“So….not Irish then?”
“Welsh.” Remus sighed.
“D’you speak Welsh?”
“Look mate, I’m glad you’re not dead and maybe only slightly concussed and I am very sorry I was responsible for your current condition—though I suspect maybe you’ve always been this needy and insufferable. Point of it is, I’ve got to go.”
“Oy! Remus,” Sirius called.
Remus let out a small sigh. “Yes?”
“If you want me to fix your mobile, come round to mine. I’ll text you the address. Careful if you drive though.”
With a growl, Remus said, “Thanks but I think I can sort out my own mobile.” And rang off.
A second later an address ticked through making a loud howling sound, like a wolf howling at the moon and Remus cried out with frustration. He went through all his settings and by ten minutes realised whatever Sirius had done, he couldn’t fix it. The mobile wouldn’t go on to silent, nor would it go onto vibrate, and the worst of it—when Remus tried to turn it off, it refused that too.
“Git! Sodding git!”
He had no other choice. He would not be the grad student whose mobile went round blasting One Direction—nor would he ever tell anyone how he knew that song was One Direction.
***
Remus stormed into his flat and jumped when he saw Lily already home. She was sat at the table with four text books spread open, and a massive stack of notes perched precariously near her elbow. She glanced up and started to smile until she saw Remus’ face.
“Oh no. What is it? Is this a tea problem or the bottle of vodka I have in the freezer problem?”
Remus sank into the chair. “Maybe both. You were out last night so I…” He stopped and shuddered. “I nearly killed a man yesterday. With my car.”
Halfway to the cooker to start the kettle, Lily froze and turned slowly, her green eyes wide. “You…what?”
Dropping his face into his hands, Remus explained the entire story. Somehow during the process, Lily had come to sit back down and had one hand grasping his knee. “…so now I’ve to go over to his and have him fix it.”
Her mouth was pressed in a thin line, and it was only after a moment Remus noticed she was looking that way to hold back a laugh.
“This isn’t bloody funny!” he cried.
She took in a shuddering breath. “No. I mean no, Rem. No of course it’s not funny. That must have been very…harrowing.”
When he saw the twinkle, he threw up his hands and she let him go, roaring with laughter. “Bloody sodding twat in his bowler hat and monocle. Who wears that, Lils? And who darts into traffic without looking?”
“Sodding twats in monocles and bowler hats who still ride on skateboards?” she offered. She winked as she got up to put the kettle on. “You want me to go with you?”
“That would be…”
“WHEN I’M FAT AND OLD AND MY KIDS THINK I’M A JOKE…”
Remus, horrified, looked down at his mobile screen to see Lily’s name there, and he turned furious, accusing eyes on her. “Damn it, Lils!”
She was doubled over, clutching her mobile.
“I WON’T ACT MY AGE, NO I WON’T ACT MY AGE…”
“I’m sorry,” she said, swiping tears from her eyes. “It’s just so…funny.” She did a half-jig which was crap, and Remus looked away until the song stopped. “I’m sorry I had to see if you were telling the truth.”
“Yes, because I, of all people, would lie about some half-dead stranger hacking into my mobile, forcing it to play out a One Direction song IN FULL, every sodding time the bloody, sodding, shitting thing rings.” Remus banged the mobile up on the table and sat back. “Can we skip the tea? And just…just go there?”
Right at that moment, his phone gave another wolf howl and he groaned. Lily snatched it up with a barely-repressed grin. “He says to hurry up. His flatmate’s got something cooking so if you want to have a fine meal, you’d better be there in ten.”
Remus rose, shoving his keys into his pocket, and with far too much violence, shoved his hands into the sleeves of his coat. “He’s out of his damned mind.”
Lily was still laughing as she dragged Remus to the street, and made him bypass the car. “Makes more sense to walk. He’s like ten minutes away and you could do with stretching your legs.”
He grumbled, but knowing she was right, didn’t protest too much. When they got to Sirius’ building though, Remus’ eyes went wide. It was nice. Too damned nice for an average Grad student. They went upstairs and Remus knocked on the door. A few seconds later, a tall, thin man answered. He had dark tanned skin, round glasses, and a mop of messy hair. He grinned at Remus, gave Lily a long, slow once-over, then said, “The one who tried to run down poor Sirius.”
Remus flushed. “In my defence…”
The man laughed. “Trust me, I know. Come on in. I’m James, by the way.”
They were let in, and upstairs, they stepped into a large room that was sparsely furnished. There was a massive, comfy sofa under the terrace window, a giant squashy armchair positioned at just the right angle to see the telly, and the walls had shelves sparsely littered with books and vinyl. There were framed posters everywhere, though, of old seventies and eighties punk rockers. The biggest was of Billy Idol right over the telly.
“So where is he?” Remus demanded, brandishing his mobile. Before James could answer, there was the sound of singing coming from down the hall. Straining his ears, he heard it was the crooning sounds of Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust, but it wasn’t Bowie himself singing.
“He’ll be finished soon as he gets done with Major Tom,” James said. He waved the pair to the sofa. “Get comfy if you like. I’ve got food on. Mum sent some. Tadaka Daal and some naan.”
Remus was only half-listening as his ears were strained to hear Sirius’ voice rising and falling above the rush of the shower. “Um…”
“He’d love some,” Lily said. “Is it homemade?”
“Yeah.” James grinned and shrugged. “Mum’s convinced if she doesn’t send over weekly pots of curries, Sirius and I are going to starve. Never mind we have a grocery allowance. It’s a bit ridiculous, really.”
“Is it homemade naan too, though?” Lily asked.
“The proper sort, made in the Tandoori Oven.” James winked at her and Remus did not miss Lily’s blush. He turned away, going back into the kitchen, and Lily ventured over.
“Cute that one, isn’t he?”
“If you like that sort,” Remus muttered.
“You do like that sort,” Lily pointed out.
Remus shrugged. “Well he’s obviously straight so…”
“And you’re mind’s more fixated on lads in steampunk clothes?” she challenged.
Remus mobile began to blare One Direction again, and his face turned bright red when James poked his head round the corner.
“Oh god. He didn’t,” James admonished.
“Dunno how, either,” Remus said miserably. “He had the bloody thing all of nine seconds.”
“Only needed four, mate,” came the silky voice as Sirius strutted into the lounge. He was not steampunk now. He was in a ratty, black Smiths tee and a pair of holey jeans. His feet were bare, long hair still wet, but combed back into a topknot and he had what looked like a chopstick holding it in place. “Good of you to come. Did Jamie feed you yet?”
“It’s still heating.” James rounded on his friend. “Fix his mobile, Pads.”
Sirius crossed his arms. “Well I will, of course. But there are conditions.”
Remus sputtered. “Conditions? You bloody…you asked me…” He stopped. “Are you alright?”
That seemed to give the other man pause. “Am I alright?”
“Were you actually hurt?”
Sirius studied Remus’ face for a long time, presumably to decide if he was truly concerned or not, then he shrugged. “Been worse.” He lifted up his shirt to display a colourful sunset of bruising which went down his back and beneath the waistband of his jeans.
Remus sucked in his breath. “Oh god. Oh mother of god, I didn’t realise…”
“Don’t be a prick,” James chastised. “He got most of those from moshing last weekend.”
Remus’ eyebrows went up, but Sirius crossed his arms to defend himself. “Yes well they were healing, and now they’ve gone all sore again, which is entirely his fault.”
“Except you darted in front of my car,” Remus defended.
“Well if you hadn’t been a speed-demon maniac behind the wheel…”
“I was going five!” Remus all-but shouted. “It’s London traffic, you can’t go more than five!”
“Boys,” Lily said, and all eyes were on her. “Now Sirius, is it?”
“Yes, my Ginger Snap,” Sirius said with a bow.
Lily rolled her eyes. “Sirius, Remus is very sorry for hitting you with his car, and is happy to make it up to you. Provided you fix the horrendous song you’ve locked onto his mobile.”
Sirius licked his lips. “You know, this is so not punk rock.”
Remus raised a brow at James who shrugged. “Punk Rock is his religion. You…get used to it.”
“Right,” Remus said, and held it out. “If you please. I mean, there’s no greater horror than someone managing to download and lock One Direction onto your mobile for the world to hear it.”
Sirius barked a laugh. “Download my arse. That was already on there.”
Remus’ eyes went wide. “It was not! I would not…I wouldn’t ever…”
Lily cleared her throat. “About that…”
“Oh god,” Remus said.
Sirius took the mobile and flopped down on the sofa, his leg kicked up over the arm. “It’s not so bad. I mean…really.”
“He only did it because he thought I was Irish,” Remus grumbled at James.
“Clearly Welsh,” James said.
Remus smirked at Sirius. “And I don’t listen to One Direction.”
“Well I was trying to be nice. They’re Irish,” Sirius said with a small pout. He held the mobile in his hand, clearly done but not giving it back.
“They’re English,” Lily said.
“One of them is Irish,” Sirius replied, and when the eyes were back on him, he shrugged. “Fancying the cute Irish one is totally punk rock.”
James groaned. “Daal is done. Everyone get some. We need food to continue on this conversation.”
Lily turned to follow him, but Sirius was jumping up, throwing his arm round Remus’ shoulders and held the mobile out. “We’re taking a selfie. That’s part of your conditions to have the offensive song removed.” Remus scowled as the shutter went off and Sirius stepped back. “Oh you’re very cute. That scowl is very cute.” He tapped a few more buttons then handed it over.
Remus’ eyes widened as he saw the selfie was now his background. And…he realised as he opened up his tabs, every contact photo. “What…how…?”
“I’m a genius?” Sirius said with a shrug, then went off to get food.
Remus attempted to remove the photo, but as the song had been, the photo was permanently adhered to the screen. He did admit though, Sirius was rather fetching. That smile…
He stopped himself and shook his head. Remus couldn’t go down this road. He didn’t date. For a damned good reason. He only looked up when Lily shoved a bowl at him, rice, daal, and a bit of naan perched on the side. Grudgingly he took a bite and hated that it was so good.
“So what are your other conditions, Pads?” James finally said as they got settled round the lounge. Remus was sitting on the edge of the sofa and Sirius, much to Remus’ dismay, had laid out again with his feet on Remus’ thigh. Lily was in the armchair and James slid down to the floor near her knees. “I’m sure they don’t want to hang round all day waiting.”
Sirius sighed, then looked at Remus. “That he go on a date with me.”
Remus sputtered, and James rolled his eyes. “Did you even ask if he was gay? You gay, Remus?”
“Hardly the point,” Remus muttered.
“Oh please, he’s gay as the full moon is round and shiny,” Sirius said.
“His metaphors are shit,” James said.
“That’s actually a simile,” Lily corrected, and James flushed. “But what do you mean a date? I’ll not have you taking advantage of my little Rem.”
Sirius beamed at Remus who wanted to burst into flames only because it would change the topic. “Rem. Hmm. Not very punk rock, is it? I’ll come up with something better.” He gave Remus a small, affectionate kick. “Coffee. Or tea. Whatever. Something very British.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “And that’ll end my debt to you. One single date?”
“Of course. And on said date I will woo you and we will have many more.”
“Doubt it,” Remus said. He rose and took Lily’s empty bowl, dropping them on the counter. “Obviously you have my number, so you can text me.”
“I do so like a challenge,” Sirius called out as they headed for the door. “Challenges are very…”
“Punk rock,” Remus finished for him. “Ta for the food, James. Good to meet you.”
***
“You’ve been staring at his photo for an hour. You fancy him.”
Remus sighed, putting his head back. Truth of it was, Remus had never met anyone like Sirius before. He was a whirlwind. Mad and enthusiastic and ridiculously good looking. But Remus didn’t date. Because falling in love was off the table. Because he wasn’t about to put someone through the pain and suffering of dealing with a sick lover, only to have them die young.
“Give it a chance,” Lily said.
Remus sighed. “You know why I don’t do this.”
“Actually, I don’t. I mean I know your reasoning, but you know, you can’t take away the option from other people. And Sirius likes you back. James told me.”
Remus quirked a brow. “Been chatting, have you?”
“He facebook stalked me. He’s not as mad as Sirius. Both are in engineering though. Mad inventor types.”
Remus almost laughed. “I could see that.”
“James seems to think there’s something there. Give it a go, hmm? Tell him everything, all the dirty bits and all the depressing ones and let him decide.”
Remus had never let himself before, so why start now? But that cheeky grin was haunting his thoughts. “What colour eye’s he got, Lils?”
“Ocean blue,” she said.
Remus bowed his head. “Fuck.”
***
They agreed to meet up at a café directly between their flats. Sirius was already there when Remus arrived, and there was a motorbike parked out front which Remus assumed was his. Confirmed when he saw the helmet under the table.
“I’ve got you a coffee already,” Sirius said. “Well, a latte. Soy.” When Remus’s eyebrows shot up, Sirius shrugged. “Lily said to.”
“Meddling brat,” Remus muttered.
“First things first,” Sirius said as he leant back, “what are you studying and is it punk rock?”
“Is it literally punk rock, or are you asking if it’s any good?” Remus asked. Then he shook his head. “Why bother. It’s astrophysics.”
“Like space. Like the moon and stars.”
Remus’ lips pursed and he wanted to tell him it wasn’t the bloody moon and stars, but there would be no point. “Yeah. Bit like that.”
“My name’s after a star. Sirius. Prettiest star in the entire universe.”
“I could cite examples of where you’re wrong, but I doubt you’d agree,” Remus said. “Suffice it to say, Sirius is, indeed, a fantastic star.”
“Thank you, Moony. That’s very kind.”
Remus’ eyes went wide. “What?”
“I told you to give me time. Moony is more punk rock than Rem. Mostly because the moon is definitely punk rock and you study it.”
Remus bit the inside of his cheek. “Fine.” It was one date, then they’d be going their separate ways. Remus would be left with a photo he couldn’t erase until he upgraded his mobile—which considering his state of finances would be never…and Sirius would be left with fading bruises.
But they were talking. And Sirius was listening. But not just listening, he was absorbing. Like he gave a shit about Remus’ studies and he laughed at Remus’ dry humour and ridiculous jokes. And he played footsie a little with him under the table.
“I’ve always been quite good at mucking about with things. Electrical things. Computer things,” Sirius waved his hand lazily. “A curse, really. Wanted to have a band but Jamie said I’d never get discovered. Point of being so punk rock though, innit? Not being discovered for your genius until after your time. Live fierce, die young.”
Remus flinched hard, unable to stop himself, and blushed when Sirius frowned. “Dying young’s not so romantic.” He reached into his pocket and put a few quid on the table. “I should go.”
Sirius caught up with him just outside. “Have I said something? I’m always putting my foot in my mouth. My second curse.” He caught Remus’ arm. “Honestly mate, just tell me.”
Remus spun round and sighed. “It’s not…it wasn’t…you. I mean, sure to the outside dying young is wonderful and romantic. But I think some of us with that particular curse don’t find it so great.” He turned again, but Sirius looped their arms together.
“Are you terminal? Is it cancer or something? Have you got ALS?”
Remus sighed. “No.”
“But you’re dying.”
Pausing, Remus stopped and removed Sirius’ hand from his arm. “Think of it like Schrodinger’s disease. I’m neither terminal nor destined to live a long life. I’ve got an autoimmune disease that may very well kill me by the time I’m thirty. Kills most men who get it.”
Sirius’ voice was considerably smaller when he asked, “What’s it called?”
“Lupus.”
Sirius’ eyebrows shot up. “You’re called Remus Lupin and you’ve got Lupus. Did you have it at birth? Are your parents that horrible?”
Remus couldn’t help his laugh. “I think maybe that’s irony. I was diagnosed when I was eight. Which is quite young. Most people it happens a lot older.”
“What’s it do?”
Remus didn’t want to explain it, but Sirius’ eyes were wide and imploring, and Remus couldn’t seem to resist him. “It does loads of terrible things. My immune system attacks itself. Sometimes it’s so high I can’t get ill at all. Not a cold, not flu. Nothing. Sometimes it’s too busy attacking my own cells that catching the sniffles will land me in hospital. It makes me allergic to the sun—I get great ruddy welts all over my skin if I’m out too long. And I’m tired. I’m tired all the time. I’ll be fine for a month, then I’ll be bedridden for three. I can’t hold down a job because of it. The medications are dreadful, one turned me colour blind and made my eyes go terribly fuzzy,” he flicked the edge of his glasses.
“So the disease doesn’t kill you. Flu will.”
Remus nodded. “When I was nine I was in this support group. Met some kids, we were all friends. We all sort of understood what the others were going through. I showed up one afternoon and found out one of the boys, he was just going on ten, caught scarlet fever. Funny enough, it’s a terribly easy illness to get over. Except he was having a flare and he died.” Remus rubbed his face. “I’ve had six surgeries because I keep getting lesions on my organs, and each time I come out of surgery, I get pneumonia.”
Sirius was nodding, and he was now holding Remus by his upper arms. “I didn’t mean to be so rude.”
Remus waved him off and tried not to think of how wonderful Sirius’ arms felt on him. “It’s not…it’s…fine. Really.”
“It isn’t. Do you want to go to dinner on Saturday.”
Remus’ eyebrows shot up. “One date, Sirius.”
“Right. One date which would allow me to woo you into dating me for good. Be my boyfriend you silly git. Boyfriends are very punk rock. Especially Welsh ones with funny diseases that match their names.”
Remus flushed, but shook his head. “I don’t date.”
Sirius cocked his head to the side. “Why’s that?”
“Because having someone watch you struggle and eventually die is not punk rock. That kind of pain it’s…”
Sirius let out a tiny sigh. “I think it’s very punk rock. Besides, when you’re fat and old…”
“Oy.”
Sirius laughed. “And ninety four and we’re doddering old fools in some retirement home with James and Lily and Peter…”
“Peter?”
“You’ll meet him later. When we’re there, you’ll be thinking, Oh Sirius, how silly and wrong I was. Why was I ever so silly and wrong? Then you’ll forget who I am and I’ll remind you. Like the Notebook.”
“Never. That movie was terrible and not at all punk rock,” Remus said.
Sirius laughed and pulled him close. “No,” he agreed. Their lips were almost touching. “It’s not at all. But you know what is?”
“Snogging against old, dirty brick buildings?”
Sirius hummed. “Absolutely.”
“You’re insufferable,” Remus muttered. This time as he spoke his lips did brush against Sirius’.
“And you talk like an eighty year old man.”
There was a breath, a pause, then Remus said, “Well. Get on with it. You punk rock fool.”
Sirius grinned. “Pushy pushy.”
***
Remus was let in to the flat by James who was wearing running shorts and no shirt. His hair was worse than usual, and he was sweaty. “Sorry,” he said to Remus who took his customary place on the sofa. “Was just out for a run.”
Remus shrugged. “No worries, mate. Where’s my idiot boyfriend?” They’d been together a month now, going steady and even though Sirius had pranked Remus’ mobile two more times, he didn’t mind it so much. Especially as the current song was Love Song by the Cure.
“Shower. He’ll be serenading us soon.” James grabbed his shirt and tugged it on over his head. “Don’t worry though, won’t be cramping your style. I’ve got a date, and Peter’s still on his holiday.”
Remus had yet to meet the third flatmate, but he figured he was alright if James and Sirius kept him round. The last month had been a bit of a whirlwind. Remus’ health was doing well, and his relationship with Sirius went from bloke he nearly killed to non-stop shagging any time they were alone.
I love yous sat on the tips of their tongue, not yet spoken because it was only a month. But Remus was swept up and torn between fear of letting Sirius down if things got too bad with his health, and god forbid things take a turn for the actual worse.
But through Lily’s coaching he’d been doing his best not to think like that lately.
He was unsure about Sirius though. The truth of it was, apart from the shagging, and the worship of all things punk rock—even things that actually weren’t punk rock at all like ice cream and bunnies—and his ridiculous genius at inventing things, Remus knew little about him. Through conversation he learnt Sirius had spent a good portion of his time with the Potters as a kid. Based on their posh accents it was obvious Sirius and James had grown up rich and went to public school where they were boarders. Peter was there too.
But that was it. And Sirius steadfastly refused to talk much about his past.
“Er…Prongs?” Remus was still getting used to the nicknames, but they were insisted upon now that he was “one of them”. “Can I ask you a question? One that you’ll answer honestly, even if it puts Sirius into a bad light?”
James lit up and dropped onto the arm of his comfy chair. “Oh I love putting Sirius in a bad light. Ask away.”
Remus flushed a little. “I was wondering…that’s to say…how often does—did—Sirius woo people? The way he’s got with me? Was he like this at school?”
James blinked, his face flickering through several emotions. “Truth Moony?”
Remus nodded. “Please.”
“Sirius’ number of people he woo’d in this manner currently stands—not counting you—at zero.”
Remus took a moment to process. He was expecting the number to be in the high twenties at least. Maybe forties. “Sorry I…what? None at all?”
“Save for you.” James ruffled his hair again, and Remus almost laughed because Lily hated when he did that. “He’s never been very open. He’s had a shag or two. Obviously discovered he was gayer than a rainbow made of skittles, but the truth of it is, no one’s ever captured his fancy. Until now.”
Remus’ entire body went flush and he realised now what position it put him in. When—if—Sirius did fall in love with him, it would be the first time. And Remus could up and die at any moment leaving him crushed. And God what kind of person would he be to let that happen.
The crooning sounds of The Pixies had trailed off and Sirius eventually came out wearing torn jeans and a faded Van Halen t-shirt that Remus thought might be a literal original from the eighties. Sirius was grinning, hair dripping round his shoulders, and though Remus wanted to just break it off them to save them both some heartache, he couldn’t. In fact, when Sirius rushed over, flopped own, and laid his soggy head on Remus’ lap, Remus realised he was in the shit because he wasn’t going anywhere.
“You two have fun. Be safe,” James said before he went in for his own shower. A minute later there was an angry voice. “Thanks for no hot water, you fucking wanker! I hope you lose your erection all night!”
Sirius’ eyes widened and he leant up on his elbow. “You take that back immediately James Fleamont Charles Xavier Magneto Potter!”
“Only two of those are my names you twat. And never!”
Sirius huffed, then pulled Remus by the hand. “My room. Come on, I’ve just got an import vinyl in by The Clash. You want to listen?”
Remus didn’t really give two sodding shits about punk music, but Sirius’ enthusiasm was catching, and he let himself be drawn into the messy bedroom, flopping on the unmade bed whilst Sirius fiddled with the turntable.
The only relief was that he always kept it quiet when Remus was by. “You’ve got my trousers soaked by your ridiculous hair,” Remus complained as Sirius turned the music on.
With a grin, his boyfriend spun round. “Ah, I know the solution.”
“Sirius wait I…” It was no use. With deft hands, Sirius had the taller man now flat on his back and was removing the offending item of clothing. “Damn it.”
“Like you had anything better to do than lie about in my bed without trousers,” Sirius said with a pout.
Remus sighed, but let Sirius crawl up his body, devouring skin on the way up. The warm, hot tongue was almost too much, and Remus’ eyes rolled back a little. “You are a ridiculous human.”
Sirius snickered against the warm skin of Remus’ neck. “When you invent a rocket that will fly people to the moon, will you take me?”
Remus ran his fingers into the soggy locks and pulled Sirius flush against him. “Of course. We’ll fly round it, make a stop at Mars. Maybe even see Jupiter.”
“From far off? So we don’t get caught up in the storm?”
Remus giggled and nodded. “And then steal a ring from Saturn.”
“Then back to the moon to get gay married and have lots of gay babies.” Sirius looked up, his eyes heavy-lidded and pupils blown wide. “I’ll carry them in my seahorse uterus.”
Remus laughed again and kissed his lover. “You haven’t got a seahorse uterus.”
“Then we need to become friends with a marine biologist who can invent one for me.” With that, Sirius pounced and kissed Remus in earnest.
It wasn’t long before Sirius and Remus were both naked and Sirius had his hands wrapped round both their cocks, pumping furiously. Somewhere during it, they heard James call his goodbyes but neither of them processed it until they were sticky with white fluid and Sirius was grabbing at his oldest and least favourite t-shirt to clean them up.
“I knew James’ curses were rubbish.”
Remus, who was bone tired, snuggled down into the pillow. “Thank God for that.”
Sirius grinned, biting down on Remus’ shoulder a little, then fell to the side. “Can I tell you something, Moons?”
Remus nodded. “Course.”
“I think I love you.” When Remus froze, Sirius pressed his fingers to the skin just above his heart. “I thought, I shouldn’t say it. It’ll only scare him off. Which wouldn’t be punk rock so you should probably just keep where you’re at.” He sighed. “I don’t…I don’t normally get close to people but I can’t help it. The day you brutally and mercilessly ran me down with your car, I knew it was fate.”
Remus’ heart was thumping. “You thought I was an angel.”
“Of Death. A sexy one,” Sirius said, waggling his eyebrows. Then he got sombre. “But the truth of it is, I love you. And if it’s meant to be then you’ll not get scared and stay here with me and be punk rock forever.”
Remus pulled Sirius down by the back of his neck and kissed him, searing and hot. “I love you too, you idiot.”
There was a heaviness between them. “I haven’t seen you poorly yet,” Sirius said after a moment. “And I think I’ll be scared to lose you every day but I won’t regret a second of it even if you die. Because you know, I think…at the very least if you die young but we’re together, then you spent every day of your life happy with me. And how can that not be good right? How can that not be the most punk rock?”
For the first time in years, Remus cried.
***
It was November and freezing and Remus wasn’t feeling great. He’d spent the last two weeks in bed aside from lectures and lab, and Sirius came over with soup, and Lily cooked for him and kept the heating at a good temperature.
But Sirius hadn’t come round in a few days, though he texted to say he had some stuff. And to come to his when Remus was better. Which happened to be a Wednesday.
Remus took the bus instead of his car because his head was still a bit wonky, and bundled up in two jumpers and a scarf and coat and woollen hat, he made it to the flat.
“Is that you under there?” James asked when he answered the door.
There was a portly blonde on the sofa, and Remus recognised Peter. “Back from holiday?”
Peter nodded. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Too much. Padfoot was too damned graphic in his emails.”
Remus flushed. “Course he was. Where is he, by the way?”
James’ eyes flickered to the hall and he shook his head. “He’s…it…might not be the best time.”
There was a crash, and Remus jumped. “What on earth?”
“He got a letter,” Peter said.
James had it, and gave it over. Happy Birthday, it read. RAB.
“What is this?”
“Regulus,” James said. “Sirius’ brother. First time he’s heard from them in years.”
But Remus was more startled that it was Sirius’ birthday. “He didn’t say anything! Oh my god I didn’t get him anything. Not even a card and…”
“He doesn’t celebrate,” Peter said quietly. “Ever.”
Remus looked at James to explain. “In year five Sirius got caught in lewd acts with a boy from the rugby team. They wrote home to his mum who sent a letter disowning him. Said not to come back for hols, or at all. Then sent what she could fit of his things in two trunks and that was that. Our Headmaster let him stay through the holidays, and I wrote my mum who took him in. The rest is his story to tell. But the day his mum sent that letter was his birthday so…”
Remus was walking toward Sirius’ door now, but James caught his arm and pressed something into his hands. It was a first aid box.
“He’ll need it. Try not to…make a bit fuss over it, okay?”
Remus’ face went drawn and a little scared, but he nodded, then let himself in. Sirius was on the bed, smoking a cigarette. The room was full of smoke, and without a word, Remus went and opened the window. As it aired out, he turned to his boyfriend and tried not to physically jump at the bleeding knuckles which had stained all over Sirius’ jeans.
He said nothing as he knelt down and popped the first aid kit. “James said it’s your birthday.”
“Wanker,” Sirius muttered, his voice hoarse.
Remus plucked the cigarette from Sirius’ teeth and stubbed it out before cleaning up the wounds. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a fallen mirror, shattered and covered in blood. It explained the cuts. “I’ve decided since I’m better, you should have a hobbit birthday.”
Sirius winced at the spray of antiseptic, then Remus put a few plasters along the larger cuts. “What the fuck is a hobbit birthday?”
Leaning back, Remus looked up into his lover’s face and wished he could see the blues in his eyes. “Well, hobbits give presents to their friends on their own birthdays. I don’t need a party, but I think you should lavish me with gifts.”
Sirius snorted. “Is that right?”
“It’s only fair. I’m cute and I deserve it.”
There was a slight flush to Sirius’ cheeks now, and he started to come round a little. “Where do I start?”
“Slow dancing.” Remus got up, thumbed through the vinyl, then selected a record. He put it on, and the bouncing sounds of Iggy Pop’s The Passenger filled the room. He extended his hand to Sirius and pulled him flush against his body.
They began to sway and rock to the beat, hands round each other tight, and Sirius had his face buried in Remus’ neck. “He sees the things he knows are his. He sees the bright and hollow sky. He sees the city asleep at night. He sees the stars are out tonight. And all of it is yours and mine. And all of it is yours and mine,” he sang under his breath.
Remus pulled back a little, putting his hands on the sides of Sirius’ face. “I love you, you stupid idiot.”
Sirius laughed, kissing Remus. “I know. You say it with such affection, Moons.”
“Because I feel it with such affection.”
They collapsed on the bed after a bit, Sirius resting his head in Remus’ lap, Remus’ hands in Sirius’ hair. He gave him small plaits along his temples, then unravelled them. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” Sirius breathed. “Yes. No. I’m angry.”
“That’s okay. I get angry. When I’m in hospital and thinking that some stupid cold which has other people drinking broth and taking cold medication might kill me, I get angry. We all have our demons.”
Sirius shifted onto his back and curled one hand in the front of Remus’ jumper. “They hit me a lot, when I was a kid. Got a few good scars on my body from it. Once I was in hospital when mum used the fire poker…” He trailed off and Remus fought back a violent, burning desire to kill that woman. “Got removed from the house for that one for a month. But she paid off social services.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Eventually the Potters pulled my ass out of the fire. They are definitely punk rock.”
“The punkiest of rocks,” Remus agreed.
Sirius smiled against Remus’ thigh. “It’s okay when I don’t think about them. But my idiot brother had to send me that letter and…” He stopped. “I couldn’t take him. No telling how he turned out. I feel like I abandoned him.”
Remus wasn’t sure what to say to that, so instead he leant his head back against the wall, running his fingers through Sirius’ hair for a long while.
“Moonbeam?”
“Yes?”
“Are lullabys punk rock?”
Remus smiled. “Very.”
“Would you sing me one?”
Remus’ cheeks flushed. “I’m no singer, Pads.”
“Don’t care.”
With a breath, Remus closed his eyes and said, “You walked in…to the party….like you were walking onto a yacht…”
Sirius’ head popped up. “Oy!”
Remus laughed. “Okay. Lie back down. I’ll sing you to sleep.”
Sirius nestled in against Remus and closed his eyes. “I love you Moonrise.”
“I love you too. Now shut up, I’m trying to serenade you.” He took a breath. “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again. Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again.”
He felt Sirius go stiff, then hot wet tears soaking into his trousers, but Remus didn’t stop.
“However far away, I will always love you. However long I stay, I will always love you. Whatever words I say, I will always love you…..I will always love you….”
***
It was January when it happened. Remus was poorly and hadn’t made it to class. He texted Sirius a few times and got very worried when his fever got so high he couldn’t think. Lily was on holiday with James, and so he sent an SOS.
‘Need hospital. Send help.’
Sirius came round in five minutes and Remus was barely aware of being carted off into a cab and through the doors. In fact, he was aware of very little for the next nine days.
He woke with a tube down his throat and a machine breathing for him, two IVs in his arm, and a host of other monitors. The moment his lungs tried to take over breathing for him, it conflicted with the machine and a nurse hurried in to right the situation.
Within an hour Remus had the tube gone, and two plastic prongs stuffed up his nose, pelting him with oxygen which made him feel sleepy and floaty.
“You gave us quite a scare, Mr Lupin,” the doctor said a little while later. “Sepsis.”
Remus’ eyes widened. “How?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“You had strep throat which was untreated and the infection spread to your blood. You coded twice.”
Remus gulped. “Oh.”
“Two days ago your cultures tested positive for pneumonia, but we’ve got you on some wonderful drugs which should clear it up. Should be good to go home in a day or two. With oxygen and bedrest. Have you someone to stay with you? You had no emergency contacts.”
“I’ve got a boyfriend,” Remus croaked. “My flatmate’s in France right now but he could.”
The doctor chuckled. “Ah yes. Mr Black. He’s become the fixture round here. Tried to sneak in an amp and electric guitar claiming punk rock could heal your wounds.”
Remus almost laughed. “Good lord. He didn’t.”
“Fraid so. Nearly got banned for it. He’s just getting tea now. I’ll send him in when he’s back.”
Ten minutes later and Remus was bodily shoved to the side as Sirius climbed beneath the blankets and held him so tight, Remus could hardly breathe.
“That was terrifying,” Sirius whispered.
Remus ran his fingers into Sirius’ hair. “I’m sorry. I…”
“I know what I signed up for, but you almost died. You collapsed on the floor and your heart stopped. Jesus, Remus. I…”
“If it’s too much,” Remus began.
Sirius yanked him down hard. “It will never be too much. Do you hear me? Ever.”
They moved in together a week later. James was happy to have him, Lily sad to see him go, Peter deciding he ought to look for his own flat since Sirius and James were ruddy great cockblocks anyway. And Remus was on oxygen for a month and confined to the bed so everyone else did the heavy lifting. Sirius even cleaned up his place and got rid of half his things so Remus’ stuff would fit.
They were in bed the first official night, and Remus was up against the wall, hating the stupid oxygen tube, but feeling better and reading some of his school notes in a vain attempt to catch up. Sirius was lying with his head on Remus’ thigh, staring up at the ceiling.
“Are goodnight stories punk rock, Moons?”
Remus smiled down at his lover. “Mega punk rock.”
Sirius turned on his side. “Shall I tell you one?”
Remus nodded, setting his notes aside. He shifted so he was lying down on the pillow, Sirius nuzzled against his shoulder, and when the lights clicked off, Remus saw glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across the ceiling. They were faded and old, but beautiful.
“Once upon a time there was a boy. Named Romulus. He was raised by wolves.”
Remus laughed. “Oh good lord.”
“Oy! No insulting the story.”
“Sorry. Please continue.”
“Anyway, Romulus had a curse. He was a werewolf. Not the vicious sort, the sort of tortured hero sort. The condition might kill him. His body turned on itself, violent and cruel. Tearing him from the insides. He was very afraid for if anyone loved him, they could get hurt. But luckily for Romulus, a star fell from the sky to earth. There was a terrible crash, and the star was almost brutally and violently killed, but he was a strong, punk rock star who got back up on his two feet and saw the werewolf so beautiful but so sad.”
Remus’ throat was tight and choked as he asked, “What was this star’s name?”
“Orion.”
Remus snorted. “That’s your middle name.”
“Who’s telling the story here?”
“Sorry,” Remus whispered again.
“Anyway, Orion spotted the werewolf and knew that he’d fallen for a reason. To take care of this creature and turn him into the most punk rock werewolf of all time. It only took the strongest love in the universe, but Orion was a great and wonderful star and so he did it. With hard work, of course, because Romulus was a bit of a stubborn prick. But it was worth it.”
Remus turned, grabbing Sirius by the face and kissed him hard until they were both breathless. “What happened at the end?”
Sirius laughed, kissing the tip of Remus’ nose. “There’s no ending. It just goes on forever. Because forever is definitely punk rock.”