bluedinosaurs

match : remus lupin x pettigrew!reader

summary : Remus moved away for Uni, you find him again at a boring house party, he walks you home but you both forgot how to act around each other

warnings : mentions of alcohol, smoking, swearing, kissing

word count : 2.9k

heavily inspired by the song Cool About It by Boygenius

"YOU WANNA DITCH?"

Remus shakes out of his daydreaming, pulled back to the real world by your voice. You are standing in front of him, sour expression on your face and arms crossed over your chest. Even though you look annoyed, Remus can't help but let his eyes linger.

"What?" He asks eventually. He thinks he has forgotten what you said.

"This shit is boring and I don't wanna walk home alone," You say.

Remus looks around. You're right. This party is boring. No wonder he has been zoning out for the better part of his time here. He can't even remember what he did since his friends left to hang out with some other friends they made at Uni.

So this time it doesn't take long for him to answer. "Yeah, sure,"

He follows you out of the house of a guy he doesn't know the name of. You look like you know your way around, though, and only look back once to see if he's still following you. He is, close enough to almost touch you if he just reached out.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets.

The air nips at his skin as you two step outside. It's late and December and maybe not the best idea to walk home, but he was here now, with you, and there was no way that he's giving up this chance, only to get back to the warmth he had abandoned.

You slow down a little, he notices. Taking the hint, he takes an extra big step, catching up with you in no time. You look up at him and smile.

It dawns on Remus that the two of you don't know each other well enough anymore to keep the conversation flowing after two minutes of silence. His hands feel empty.

"Y'don't mind, do you?" He asks, pulling out his pack of cigs and a lighter.

He thinks that you may be a little tipsy, because it's taking you longer to answer than normal. When you look up at him, he already has the cigarette placed between his pink lips.

"Nope," you say and eye the cigarette. Remus notices.

"You can't have one, your brother will kill me," He says, bringing the lighter closer and closer to his face. The moment the cigarette catches fire, he feels a little sense of relief washing over him.

"He won't mind," you say, but you both know that you're lying. "Okay, yes, he would mind. But, who cares, he's my bloody brother, not my mum. At least he doesn't tell her anymore when I do stuff,"

"Stuff?" He asks. He never heard you talk about stuff before.

"Stuff," you repeat.

Remus flicks his cigarette and holds it out to you. It almost feels illegal to him, giving you a drag. Like the police could come around the corner any second and arrest him on the spot. When did you grow up? Are four months really that long?

You take a drag. Expertly, he observes. You don't waste any time giving it back to him, which he is glad for. He still doesn't know what to do with his stupid hands.

When he places his lips around the orange end again, he can't help but constantly think about how your lips were wrapped around it only seconds prior. He shakes his head. He feels weird. Sometimes, you still feel fourteen to him. He has to remind himself that you're not, and that even when you were fourteen and he was fifteen, he felt awkward around you.

A good kind of awkward, he used to say. Now he's not certain anymore.

"Where's your jacket?" He asks. He doesn't know why though, he doesn't have a jacket to offer you.

"It's the alcohol," you reply.

Maybe he's a little tipsy too, because it takes him a while to process what you said. It clicks in his brain only a second later. It's the same thing the girls used to say last year when they all got down to the pub on Friday night with their fakes. None of them ever took a jacket from anybody. Except Lily, who stopped being cold on a random day in October of last year, when she finally said yes to James' offer. Since then, her shoulders were always covered by James' red jacket.

He flicks his cigarette. You ask for it again and give it back just ask quickly.

"So," Remus begins, "How's school going for ya?"

You shrug. "Y'know, good," you say. "I'm doing good,"

It wasn't the question he asked. He still saw through the lie though, your eyes giving you away. Once, before, you had your walls built way up. Too high to reach for anyone, even your family. Then, one day in the two weeks that both of you were sixteen, the walls came tumbling down a little. Not all the way, not even close, but just far enough to see your eyes and the bridge of your nose.

"The teachers are being fucking annoying, though," You say, "Always reminding me of A-Levels coming up. Like I don't remember myself every single day,"

Remus chuckles a little. He remembers how shit A-Levels were. He also remembers how much pressure your brother was under this time last year. He can imagine it's the same with you.

"Yeah, but you're gonna do great," Remus says. He doesn't know what else to say.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Trust me, I know. I've got like a sixth sense for this shit,"

You giggle. When the light of the street lights illuminate your face, he can see your flushed cheeks.

The two of you pass the corner shop a second later. Your house is five streets away, his six. He stubs out his cigarette.

"So, yeah, shit's great on my part," you blow out a low breath. "You? How's London treating you?"

The question makes him nervous. He pulls out a second cigarette.

He gives the same answer as you. "Good. Different, but good," He lies too.

Remus moved to London for University about four months ago now. The first few weeks he had expected for it to feel weird, for him to feel out of place. He missed his friends, who, unlike him, all stayed around Liverpool. He missed his parents, his little sister, his room, his footy team.

When he was still homesick after two months, with little to none new friends around him, he had started to think that maybe Uni wasn't for him. Maybe London wasn't for him, even though it was the place he had been dreaming about since the start of secondary school. He was sure that London would be his place, where he would bloom.

Now, four months after the start of Uni, he's not even sure if he wants to go back after the winter holidays.

"You sure?" You test him.

"Of course," he says, but he can see at the way you make a face at him that you don't buy his bullshit. He has never quite been capable of lying to your face, of passing this hard test you give him every once in a while.

"Really." He continued, persistent in making you believe him. "I actually got this job at this fancy restaurant. Gotta wear an all white dress shirt and all that jazz,"

A laugh blows out of your nose. "You? A job in a restaurant?" You look up at him like he's crazy.

"What?" Remus laughs too, cig hanging from the right corner of his mouth, though he's not really sure what you find so funny. "You find it so unbelievable that I found work?"

"No, no," you chuckle, "I just never saw you as a server, y'know, with your grumbling and frowning and all,"

Remus thinks you're crazy. And he wants to say so, but then he kicks childishly at a pebble with a frown plastered on his face, and maybe he can see where you're coming from.

He visibly tries to relax before answering. "Trust me, I didn't peg myself as one either," this is a truth he tells, maybe the first complete one, "But I'm not really a server, just a runner,"

"Ahh," you say. He can see in the way your face twists that that makes more sense to you.

He blows out a cloud of smoke and holds the fag out for you to take. You do. You don't give it back immediately.

Remus doesn't know what to say next. He can't ask you about your school anymore, you've already told him about how your boss was a bloody bitch right when you arrived at the party, before the two of you had lost sight of each other for the rest of the night — well, until now. He racks his brain for a new conversation topic, not wanting to end the walk in silence.

( Even though he could watch you take drags of his cigarette in silence for hours. )

"Did you see James' outfit?" He asks, breaking the silence.

A bark of laughter comes out your mouth, along with the smoke, as you nod your head enthusiastically. "Oh my god, yes. That shit was terrible!"

Remus hums, an amused grin on his face. You give him back the cigarette. The two of you walk into your street, on the sidewalks you used to run after him, your brother and the rest of his friends, hoping to tag along.

"Like, I saw him, and I was like: 'A cowboy hat, James? Really? Did you listen to too much country again?'"

"James thought he looked amazing," Remus grinned.

"That even makes it worse," You shake your head, comically looking over at Remus who was already looking at you.

"Wait, no, no," You start to giggle uncontrollably before even having the chance to share your new thought. "The worst thing is, is that Lily liked it!"

"No way,"

"Yes!"

"Lily liked it? I would've thought she would've thrown it in the fire by now,"

"Na-ah," You say. Remus takes a last drag and stubs the cig out. "She was wearing matching cowboy boots," You squeeze his arm for the dramatics.

For two seconds, Remus doesn't answer.

He shakes out of his pretty quickly. "Okay, now I've lost complete faith in both of them," He chuckles.

"Honestly," you agree. Your house is in view now, a light on the first floor on. "I still don't see how James has a fucking girlfriend and you don't,"

Remus must be more sober than you are, because he seems to grasp the intensity of what you said right as the words leave your mouth.

You think he's worthy enough of having someone love him. Even more worthy than James, who has always had the biggest heart and had been looking ages for someone who could give him back the same love that he deserved, the same love he gifted to everyone else.

You think that Remus is lovable.

Remus doesn't know if his heart is breaking or blooming. It feels the same.

A few seconds later and he sees your face twist into one of horror and realisation from the corner of his eye, finally realising your comment held much more than you initially thought. He's afraid to look you in the eye. You seem afraid too, because for the first time tonight, you let your head hang.

"I'm sorry..." You whisper. Remus thinks that maybe you think that he's offended by your words. Yet, he doesn't know how to feel.

He wishes you hadn't apologised. That you could've been a little cruel about it by just carrying on, but he knew you were too kind for that.

Trying to forget about it, he shakes his head and gives you a small smile. You look sad, maybe a little unsure what to do with yourself. He sees your hand twitch and he wonders if you feel the need for a cigarette, too.

You stop your twitching hand by putting it in the back pocket of your jeans.

Your house is a few steps away and Remus watches how your face falls.

"Shit," You mumble.

"What?" Remus asks.

"My mum is home," You stop in front of your garden, not opening the gate. There's a blue car in the parking spot, one that Remus recognizes to be your mother's. He looks over at you, at how you make no move to enter your home.

"Good luck," he says quietly.

You turn to him. Fully standing in front of each other for the first time this evening. Finally eye to eye. You give him a kind smile, a head tilt, and something Remus does not expect; a hug.

Your hands wrap carefully around his neck, your chin resting against his shoulders since you're standing on your tippy toes. It's the closest the two of you have been in ages, ever since the night when both of you were sixteen and you had hugged him thanks then, too.

Remus does not know what to do with his hands. He's overloaded by his feelings. First, you're closer than ever. Second, you smell like cigarettes and coconut shampoo. Third, he's afraid that when he does puts his hands on you, you'll immediately break the hug.

But you don't step back, and Remus can not just stand there with his hands in the air, so he places them softly against your back. He doesn't try to pull you closer, or hold you tighter, he just holds you gently like you're made out of glass.

"Thank you," you say.

He nods into your hair. "You're welcome," he says. Both of you had started to talk quietly, this close to your house.

You step back, your arms falling back to your sides. "For dropping me off, I mean,"

Remus nods again. "I know,"

Maybe you're both lying now. You both don't point it out.

"When will you go back to London?" You ask as you struggle to get your keys free from the loop of your belt.

"Third of January," He says. It's now the twenty-ninth of December.

You smile. "See you with New Years, then?"

Remus' eyebrows pull together in confusion.

"I heard Mrs Potter is planning that street party again," You help him and gesture to the house at the end of your street, the only one significantly larger than the others. "Peter and I are there,"

"Oh, yeah," Remus says, "Yeah, I'll see if can make it,"

You nod. "Right," You look back to your house. "Or we could just go for a smoke sometime,"

"Yeah," Remus nods.

"Yeah," you say.

Remus thinks that you're stalling. But he can't say that he minds. He would stall with you until the sun comes up, as long as you keep staring at him like that.

"I don't wanna go in just yet," You whisper.

"I know," he whispers back.

Your gaze falls on his lips. Remus notices and tries not to think about what's going on inside your head right now. His own head is busy enough on its own.

Are you really going to kiss him? Are his lips chapped from the cold? Would he kiss you if you didn't? Is he going a little crazy? Has he imagined you two kissing before?

Yes.

The answer is yes.

You place your hands on his cheeks and quickly place your lips against his. So hastily, that Remus had hardly any time to process your face coming towards him. Now all there was his lips on yours, yours on his, your hands on his cheeks, his hands softly coming down on your waist.

Yes, Remus had imagined the two of you kissing before. The first time when he was fifteen, then when he was sixteen, and every year since then. When he was young, he would wonder about dramatic make out sessions, his hands near your butt, your body completely pressed into him. The perfect scenario back then.

But this, the delicacy of the soft touches, your lips not even moving, bodies close but not yet touching, was so, so much better than his young, wild dreams.

He doesn't keep count of how long the two of you stand there, in front of your house, lips interlocked. He's in a trance, a moment of bliss, until you pull away.

Remus opens his eyes to see you staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. As if what you had just done was the worst decision ever. And Remus wanted to tell you that it was fine, that there was nothing to worry about, that he enjoyed himself, but you beat him to it.

"Oh, Remus, I'm so sorry," You say quietly, eyes rimming with unshed tears that had started to well up in a seconds notice.

He doesn't know what's going on in your head, but he can't imagine it's any good.

"Hey, it's cool," Hey says, trying his best to comfort you with his words. "It's cool," he whispers.

You don't look any better. "Uhm," You say, fumbling clumsily with your keys, which are still around the loop of your belt. "I'm gonna go inside now. Thanks for... walking me home,"

"Yeah, of course,"

Remus wants to tell you that he liked the kiss. That you could kiss him again, if you wanted to. But he doesn't know where to start. He doesn't want to make you anymore upset than you already are.

"See you with New Years," you say and open the gate, taking big and fast strides towards your front door while still struggling to free your keys.

Remus doesn't see you enter your home. He's already walking away before you have the chance to look back, a third cigarette in his mouth.

first ever time posting, kinda nervous

english, as you may have noticed, is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!