SOUVENIR
For Em, on her birthday.When Remus gets in it is nearly three, though despite the late hour—or is it an early hour? Three in the morning is a tricky one—he finds he isn't sleepy. Oh, he's tired. He doesn't have words for just how very tired he is, but he knows sleep is a long way off tonight.
His boots are filthy, caked with new mud and old mud, the laces are fraying, and he thinks his feet might explode if he doesn't free them from their leathery prisons. The caked-on mud makes it difficult to untie them, though, and the fact that he can hardly get a good grip on the laces due to the fraying . . . well, hell.
He collapses onto the couch with a grunt and stares at his shoes, his arms heavy from exhaustion and unwilling to take the effort to lift his wand to banish the damned boots. For a moment he considers stomping his feet a bit, both in a bid to shake off some of the dry mud as much as to hopefully wake the man who, he assumes, is fast asleep in the bedroom further in the flat. He doesn't, though; Remus remembers enough times that Sirius woke him during late-night returns, and Remus is not a vengeful man.
The thought of bed gives him new energy, and his arm agrees to perform the simple movements to remove the boots; moments later Remus is heaving himself off the couch. He begins to stumble in bare feet towards the bedroom, stripping himself on the way, not wanting to bring any kind of reminders of his nearly week-long absence into their safe, private space. It's an unwritten, unspoken agreement that the real world and all of its troubles are left outside the threshold of the bedroom, and it has thus far worked spectacularly.
He opens the door and smiles at the sight that greets him. Sirius is sound asleep, sprawled across the arbitrary division of their sides, a sure sign that Remus had been missed rather desperately. After three years of sharing a proper bed, and innumerable nights spent apart in ones and twos and threes and, one particularly awful time, a fortnight, Remus has become an expert on Sirius Sprawl and its expansion over time. Once Remus had been trying to explain this to Lily and they'd tried to create an arithmentic equation to predict just how far it would spread in extreme periods of time, but neither of them had been quite drunk enough to get it quite right.
But if they'd gotten it to work, Remus is certain it would have predicted this. Five nights sleeping alone—well, five-and-a-half, six if Remus had waited to return in the morning—and the Sirius Sprawl is reaching into the fourth vertical quarter of the bed. Another couple nights and Sirius would be hitting the opposite edge of the bed, and then he would start turning sideways, his head hanging off one side precariously.
"Home just in time," Remus murmurs, careful to keep his voice low, but needing some noise to break the quiet of the room. He pads to his side of the bed, settling on it gently, sitting back against the headboard, lifting his knees to arch over Sirius's outstretched arm in a bid not to disturb him quite yet.
Usually Sirius is the one to watch Remus sleep; he would (and did, the one time Remus asked) deny it strenuously, insisting that only a completely love-struck sap would do something so soft, but while Remus has yet to catch him in the act, he knows it's true. He's woken to find Sirius quickly getting out of bed, grabbing a book or newspaper, or just trying to pretend that he's just woken as well. His eyes, however, never have the sharp edge of wakefulness, nor the blurry smudge of sleep. Remus likes to think that it's the soft touch of adoration, and it warms him every time he sees it, which is why he's never really minded pretending that Sirius does no such thing. Remus has never understood exactly why Sirius likes to do this, never felt the urge to do it in return, though tonight he thinks he might get it.
He's in no mood to talk about his trip—what little he can actually discuss, anyway—and still has no desire to sleep, but he wants to embrace the feelings of home and safe and love, and Sirius is all of those as he sleeps. So he watches as Sirius breathes, deep and steady, every so often making a soft snuffling sound that Remus has never heard until now. He feels his heart melt at the sound, and he grins at what a terrific ponce he is for this man.
Though careful about keeping still, he must have somehow twitched and shifted the bed, because suddenly the limp arm beneath his legs is pulled away and Sirius is turning on his side, eyes open and regarding Remus with amused curiosity.
"When'd y'get home, Moony?" Sirius asks, his voice tinged with sleep.
Remus smiles, sliding himself down to lie next to Sirius, and he answers in a whisper: "Bit ago. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."
"Mmm," Sirius says, stretching his back, "wish you had."
"You looked peaceful . . ." Remus starts, then winces on the inside when he sees Sirius's lips quirk into a grin.
"Watching me sleep, Moony?"
Remus lifts his nose slightly. "I don't make a habit of it, I assure you."
Sirius shifts forward, brushing his hand over Remus's cheek. "It's fine. Kinda like having you watch over me, like you're protecting me."
"That's . . . no, that's not why. Not really." He leans into the caress. "Just . . . I missed you, I missed feeling safe, you know?"
Lips follow the fingers; Remus smiles at the soft kiss. "I'm so glad you're back. I haven't slept very well without you." More kisses trail across his cheek to his lips. Remus senses that something else is wrong, that there's an extra desperation in what's becoming quite a long and purposeful snog that he should pay attention to . . . but he doesn't. He's missed this too much to stop now.
"I don't think you'll get much sleep," he murmurs, teasing with a flick of his tongue, "if we keep this up, Padfoot."
"That's okay." He bites at Remus's earlobe, a sure sign that he's not looking for a slow seduction this time. "Sleep's overrated when I've got a Moony in my bed." He curls his arm around Remus's waist and pulls him as he rolls onto his back, and Remus goes willingly, easily straddling the other man's hips. He cups Sirius's face as they kiss, and Sirius's hands settle at the small of his back, pushing his shirt up just enough to trace sure fingers over sensitive skin. "Moony . . . want you . . ."
Remus lets one of his hands drift from Sirius's face, down his neck and the side of his torso. "You want me to fuck you, Sirius? That my welcome home gift?"
A moan and a roll of hips are his only answer, not that he needs words to know just how much Sirius wants that right now. It may be fair to say that this odd hour's lovemaking will be Remus's present for Sirius, a little treat he picked up while away just because he saw it and thought of his lover.
It has been a while since they were together like this; even before Remus left they had been having what could be considered a dry spell, and had gone near on two weeks without anything more than perfunctory quick kisses in the mornings and before collapsing into bed. Things have been busy, and the burden of fighting a war has put a strain on most relationships in the Order. Just over a week ago Remus had heard that Frank had moved out and gone back to live with his mother for a while, at Alice's request . . . .
"Where'd you go, Moony?" Sirius asks, pulling Remus back into the moment, and he smiles down at the face that has kept him sane over the last week.
"Sorry, my mind wandered."
Sirius kisses him, sweet and short. "I must be doing something wrong."
"Mmm, no, you're fine," he says, determined not to ruin his homecoming. "I've just missed you," he adds, and Sirius's wide smile grounds him. "Let's get you out of these." He reaches down to tug at Sirius's pants, but suddenly they are gone, and his eyes widen in surprise.
Sirius is holding his wand with two fingers, grinning proudly. "No time for all that." He closes his eyes again as he flicks his wand, and the drawer on the nightstand opens and out flies the little glass pot of lube that provokes a Pavlovian reaction from his cock.
"Time for that, of course," Remus says, catching it out of the air and pushing himself up so that he's sitting back on his heels.
"There's always time for that."
Remus opens it and notes that they are running low, and a traitorous thought whispers across his mind: If we don't die soon, we'll need to buy more. He grunts as he scoops some onto his fingers, hoping the noise will be interpreted as one of anticipation—despite his morbid thoughts, he does want this, he wants it so much. He leans back slightly, trying to give Sirius the best possible view as he runs his hand over his prick, and he can't stop the pleased grin at the sound of Sirius's groan.
"Here, let's make this simpler," he says, shifting slightly and pushing the blankets away. They've never been ones to have sex under the sheets, not even back in school. Sirius's brand of mischief and Remus's own enjoyment of potential exhibitionism brought them on more than one occasion to leave even the curtains around the bed wide open to unexpected visitors. "Been too long since I've fucked you, hasn't it?"
Sirius nods quickly. "Yeah, it really has." He pulls his knees up to his chest, opening himself to Remus, and Remus hums with approval. "Not that I'm complaining much. Find other ways to have fun, don't we?"
Remus's fingers stroke the sensitive flesh as he nods distractedly, spreading slickness around before pushing his middle finger in, still gentle, trying to hold off on thinking about how tight this will feel around his prick. He doesn't want this to end quickly, doesn't want it to end at all, if that was possible. Sirius's breathing and moans, the sounds of his arousal, make Remus move faster despite himself. Soon—too soon for Sirius, probably, given how long it's been since Remus has topped—he's pressing himself into Sirius, and it is so good that Remus finds himself breathless and unable to speak.
Sirius's face betrays the discomfort he's feeling, but Sirius's hands are clutching Remus closer, and he's long-since learned that Sirius likes the aching burn. Remus pushes forward, trying to keep the thrust slow and smooth, giving Sirius time to adjust to the full feeling, then pulls out nearly all the way, hesitating teasingly before he repeats the motions.
"Oh, fuck, Remus that's so good," Sirius groans, his fingers digging into Remus's skin. Remus closes his eyes, and with his right hand takes Sirius's prick, stroking it lightly, trying to decide if he wants Sirius to come before him, or if he wants to come first and then suck Sirius off. Both ideas are appealing, but he wants to taste Sirius's come, wants to swallow it and kiss Sirius, make him taste himself—Sirius loves tasting himself in Remus's mouth, he'll kiss Remus so deeply to find every trace of it. Decision made, he eases his hand and quickens his thrusts, letting the promise of a delicious blow job spur him onward, forward, faster faster harder and Sirius is begging for more—more, Moony please—so he does, shifting his weight for better leverage.
Sweat slips down Remus's forehead, a few drops land on Sirius's chest, and Remus hears Sirius grunting, whimpering and whispering Remus's name; it pushes Remus harder, makes him eager to finish before Sirius can beat him to it.
"Don't, don't come yet . . . m'gonna come. Fuck m'gonna—" He can't speak anymore, releasing a loud gasping scream as he comes, hips thrusting without control, filling Sirius. He thinks he hears Sirius shouting as well, and he hopes Sirius listened, didn't come, though of course he wouldn't be upset if Sirius did.
He collapses on Sirius, and as he comes back to himself he realizes he can feel Sirius's prick still hard between them. Remus grins, pressing a kiss to Sirius's collarbone. "Fuck that's good." He grins, drops another kiss on Sirius's chest.
Sirius swallows. "Nngh. Remus, hell, please . . . I didn't come, but I'm gonna burst if I don't soon. . . ."
Remus sighs dramatically, pushing himself up and kissing Sirius's mouth, that gorgeous mouth that's hanging open as he pants trying to keep control. He slips down Sirius's body, letting his tongue draw invisible lines as he does. He pulls away, though, before he reaches Sirius's cock and instead takes it in his hand, carefully stroking it. Remus licks his lips, glances up at Sirius—and oh, Sirius is looking eager and desperate and wide-eyed and completely irresistible—and drops his head, swallowing Sirius's deeply, taking as much as he can and sucking hard.
Sirius cries out and Remus quickly puts his hands on Sirius's hips to hold them down. He can feel Sirius's hips trying to thrust and he feels a stray flicker of arousal run through him, knowing that he's the one who decides how much Sirius can react. Sirius has started chanting Remus's name again, sprinkled with an occasional "oh god" or incoherent mumble. Remus sucks harder, moving his head quickly, letting his tongue tease at the most sensitive parts, until suddenly his mouth is filled with come and Sirius is fucking roaring in his release.
Many minutes later Remus is gently wiping away the remnants of come and lube from them both while Sirius enjoys his brief post-coital doze. As soon as Remus stops touching him he'll wake and demand snuggles, which Remus will be more than happy to provide. He wonders if other couples—the so-called "normal" couples like James and Lily or Frank and Alice—like snuggling as much as he and Sirius do. Part of him reckons they can't possibly, since straight men seem to not be quite permitted to enjoy such activities, and Remus is so very glad that he's queer.
"Moony."
Remus looks up from his task—which has gone from cleaning with purpose to fondling Sirius's soft penis just because it's fun—to see Sirius looking at him with eyes that are unexpectedly awake and somber. Remus remembers what Sirius had said earlier, about not sleeping well, and that little something is lurking below the surface again.
"Yes, Padfoot?"
Sirius shifts himself until he's sitting with his legs pulled up, and he hugs his knees. "I love you, Remus. I . . . fuck, I love you so much, you know that, right?"
Now Remus is worried; this isn't their normal pillow talk, at least not with that tone and the hint of fear in Sirius's eyes. He wants to go to him, wants to hug him and pet him and tell him everything will be okay, but there's a vibe that very clearly demands he stay back for now. He swallows. "I know, Sirius. I love you, too. I missed you so much while I was gone, it was—"
"Where were you, Remus?" Sirius says, the interruption so very un-Sirius that Remus actually shrinks back instinctively.
"Sirius . . . you know I can't . . ."
"Fuck that! Fuck the Order, fuck Dumbledore. You're back from your mission, you're here in our bed, and I need you to bloody tell me where you were!" Sirius's voice cracks with emotion and desperation.
Remus nods. "I was up north. There's a small contingent of werewolves up near Leeds that we've convinced to back our side. I've been the liaison, of course. They had a bit of trouble with some others from the main pack, so they asked me to go up and play some politics so it wouldn't get back to Greyback that we had taken any of his pack away."
Sirius narrows his eyes, and Remus isn't sure if it's because he doubts what Remus said, or if it's the same frustration Sirius has always had since Dumbledore first started talking about using Remus as the Order's resident poster-werewolf for the cause. "What . . . what would you say if I told you that you were seen in Dover four nights ago?"
Remus's eyes widen. "Then I'd say your source was either confused or a liar." What else would Sirius expect Remus to say? Surely one alleged eyewitness wasn't enough to make Sirius suspicious of his actions, was it? But if there was something else, why hadn't Sirius asked him before tonight? Remus's head starts to hurt with the implications of Sirius's questions, along with the timing.
Sirius looks away. "Remus . . . I need the truth from you." He looks back, and there is such pain in his eyes that Remus actually gasps aloud. "James . . . he's convinced. He called me over night before last, and he and Lily . . ."
"They think I'm . . ."
Sirius nods. "They do. I said of course you couldn't be. James said I was too close to you to see the truth. That I'd always been. And he . . ." Sirius sighs, letting go of his legs and stretching them out towards Remus while his hands tug at his hair. "He told me I had to choose. I can be with you, or I can be his best friend and Harry's godfather, but I can't be both. He told me to choose."
Remus feels his stomach clench. Sirius loves being Harry's godfather, he absolutely adores the child. He and James, too, are just meant to always be best friends. Sirius has chosen James over Remus before, though the stakes were never this high; Remus could forgive a canceled date for an extra detention.
Though if the stakes are this high, then that should probably make the decision easier. Remus feels entire body tense, getting ready to flee, because when Sirius says this was all just one last goodbye fuck and he's chosen James fucking Potter again, Remus will . . . well he doesn't know what he'll do but he knows he won't be proud of himself in the morning.
Sirius lets out a sob. "I chose you, Remus. I looked him right in those stupid glasses of his and I told him he was a wanker and he'd let all this fucking paranoia get to him and that he might as well have accused me of being the traitor and that if he's too fucking thick to know that you'd sooner die than hurt any of us . . ." Tears are streaking down Sirius's cheeks, and he swipes at them angrily. "If he doesn't know that then he doesn't deserve to have us as friends. So I kissed Harry and told him Uncle Padfoot was going away for a long time and I left before he could start crying. I came back here and I haven't left the flat since waiting for you to come home and prove to me that I did the right thing and so help me Remus, if you were in bloody Dover for any reason at all . . ." He covers his mouth with his hand, trying to hold in the sobs, and Remus can't take it anymore.
He scuttles forward and takes both of Sirius's hands in his own and looks Sirius right in the eye. "I swear to you, Sirius. I swear to you on Harry's life, I've never been to Dover, not this week or ever before. I was in Leeds, in a sopping, muddy field with a leaky tent and fractious werewolves. I wished I was home with you every moment of every day, and I was so glad to get home tonight because I missed you more than I've missed anything in my whole life."
Sirius stares back at him for a long moment, and Remus holds his breath, willing Sirius to believe him, to trust him, because if he doesn't he thinks Sirius will kill him, which is probably for the best, because he doesn't want to live if he can't even hold onto Sirius's trust.
Finally, finally, after the longest moments in the world, Sirius nods, closes his eyes, and sighs as a few more tears leak from his tired eyes. "I love you so much, Remus. I just . . ." he chuckles derisively, " . . . just never thought I'd have to dump James to prove it."
Remus pulls Sirius close, embracing him firmly but not too tightly. "You . . . you didn't have to. Not for me, anyway. I'm so sorry he made you choose." He swallows. "Part of me says you should go back, you should choose them instead, because Harry needs you more than I do."
Sirius shakes his head quickly, knocking their heads together once and they pull away wincing. "Sorry," Sirius mutters, rubbing his temple. "But I couldn't, don't you see? If I go back, it'd be like admitting you were guilty. Or that you could be guilty, even. And I . . . I don't think you could be, ever."
"I know. It's only a small part of me that says that." Remus smiles a bit, then pets Sirius's hair. "Thank you. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for defending me." He licks his lips. "I know things will be a bit awkward at the next meeting, but . . ."
"No." Sirius kisses Remus's forehead. "We can't stay here. James will think you've hexed me, that you've got me working against everything, too."
"What?"
"We have to leave. We . . . first thing tomorrow, we need to pack up a few things, get some money from Gringotts, and we need to get out of here. If we stay, they'll try to capture us, try to get us to admit what we're up to and when we don't they'll toss us in Azkaban and throw away the key."
Remus's head spins; he's just gotten home and now he has to leave? They're going to run away from everything? Sirius chose him over James? They have to leave?
"Sirius . . . let's just get some sleep tonight, okay? We can talk in the morning when we're rested. There have to be other options, but you're just not seeing them now, love." He kisses Sirius, then shifts to lie down, pulling Sirius with him. "Please, sleep now. We'll figure it out tomorrow." He feels Sirius nodding against him, and soon they're drifting off to sleep.
By mid-afternoon the next day, they've cleared their flat of everything of any value to them and have left it empty of all but basic furniture. They never return to it.
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