LookingForSneha

Remus: I'm trying to read.

That's the best position he can sleep in. No bad dreams or trouble to fall asleep.

Kurt Vonnegut wrote: “When I was 15, I spent a month working on an archeological dig. I was talking to one of the archeologists one day during our lunch break and he asked those kinds of “getting to know you” questions you ask young people: Do you play sports? What’s your favorite subject? And I told him, no I don’t play any sports. I do theater, I’m in choir, I play the violin and piano, I used to take art classes.

And he went WOW. That’s amazing! And I said, “Oh no, but I’m not any good at ANY of them.”

And he said something then that I will never forget and which absolutely blew my mind because no one had ever said anything like it to me before: “I don’t think being good at things is the point of doing them. I think you’ve got all these wonderful experiences with different skills, and that all teaches you things and makes you an interesting person, no matter how well you do them.”

"My mum wants to know what you'd like for Christmas dinner since you're vegetarian."

Sirius, who was currently slathering far too much jam on his toast, blinked. "I don't want to impose. I’ll just eat some side dishes," he said with an easy smile, though his ears went a little pink.

Remus shook his head. “She wants to make sure you have something to eat other than potatoes and squash.”

“Wait—wait—hold on.” James set down his fork with a clatter. “You’re going to Moony’s for the holiday?”

Remus continued reading, ignoring James’ flailing. “She says she’s happy to make whatever you prefer.”

“I really do like potatoes and squash,” Sirius tried, sending Remus a soft, reassuring look that made Remus’ cheeks warm.

James leaned forward, scandalized. “Are you not coming home with me? Since when?!”

“What about a vegetable torte?” Remus suggested, still mentally going through recipes he knew his mum made well.

“I’d eat that,” Sirius said with a nod. “But I don’t want her to go overboard just for me. I’d feel bad.”

“Nonsense,” Remus said, finally lowering the parchment. “She’s excited to meet you. Cooking makes her happy. It’s one of the ways she shows affection.” His smile softened into something almost shy. It was obvious how much he adored his mum.

James threw his hands into the air. “HELL-LOOO? Anyone hearing me? Best mate? Abandoned?”

“Oh! I know, Selsig Morgannwg!” Remus said suddenly brightening. "Glamorgan sausage. Sirius, you'd love it."

“What’s that?” James asked, brow furrowed.

“It’s a Welsh sausage made from cheese, leeks, and breadcrumbs,” Peter said matter-of-factly between bites of porridge.

The trio stared at him.

Peter shrugged. “What? I like food.”

Sirius laughed, bright and genuine, and bumped his knee against Remus’ under the table.

Remus bumped back, smiling down at his plate.

James groaned loudly.

“Unbelievable. I lose my best friend to a Welsh mum and a plate of… cheesy leek sausages.”

“Could be worse,” Sirius said lightly. “You could’ve lost me to the potatoes and squash.”

Dan Howell: there's a man in the room, I let a stranger into our phouse, I pretended to limp and claimed I got hit by a car because I was late for the dentist

(317 words.)

As soon as James walks into the dorm, he freezes.

For a moment, he just observes the ridiculous domesticity he's walked in on. Sirius is halfway between sitting up and lying down in Remus' bed, Remus practically draped across him. James would almost assume the two are asleep, if not for Sirius' hand moving gently through Remus' hair. The two of them look...

Well.

James isn't really sure why he's so taken aback.

Sirius' eyes open at the sound of the door falling closed behind James, meeting his eyes and frowning as James gives him a look. A look that James is all too used to giving Sirius, as of late.

"What?" Sirius asks finally, voice quiet and hand stilling in Remus' hair.

"What happened to distance?" James whispers back, setting his bag down. Sirius had been adamant about the whole thing; that all he needed to do was take a step back. That 'no, Remus doesn't like me back, he can't.' That he needs to have a little bit of space to get over his feelings.

"He's not well. I brought him some tea," Sirius argues weakly, gesturing vaguely to an abandoned mug of tea on Remus' bedside table, the teabag having been left in it for so long that the water has been reduced to nothing but a dark void.

James looks at Sirius again, arching an eyebrow disbelievingly.

"Shut up," Sirius mutters, face turning red at an alarming rate.

Remus mumbles something a little incoherent in his sleep, arms tightening around Sirius' waist. Sirius' face softens in an instant, looking down at the boy on his chest fondly.

James just sighs, shaking his head to himself as he decides to stop intruding on them any further.

The two of them wouldn't be able to keep their distance to save their bloody lives.

Who knows, though?

It was awkward.

Oh fuck, it was so very, very awkward.

Thirteen years and they’d forgotten how to talk to each other, hadn’t they? They’d never be what they once were. Hug in the Shack or not, Sirius was stupid to hope. Remus had probably long moved on. He was too good, too perfect, for someone to not have realized.

They stood in the kitchen, Sirius trembling.

Not that he didn’t do that most of the time now.

And Remus…Remus just looked at the floor.

“I…thank you,” Sirius mumbled, unable to look away from the man he’d thought about for over five thousand nights without being able to kiss. “For letting me inside. You didn’t have to.”

Finally, Remus looked at him, his expression almost insulted. “Sirius. I–I’m the one who…fuck, I thought you killed them, Pads!” his voice crackled and fizzled, emotion weighing it down. He suddenly looked like he was drowning in regrets.

But Sirius had never once blamed him. “I thought you were the traitor. I…I stopped talking to you, near the end. He got in all of our heads, Rem. You can’t blame yours–”

“Well, I do,” the taller man snapped, face twisted.

Sirius swallowed. He wanted to reach out, to hold him, to kiss his perfect lips which somehow looked exactly the same even when marred with a new scar and dusted with over a decade of age. This was Remus. His Remus. 

But did Remus still want him? Did he even remember how they’d been when they were young, before war had destroyed everything? How much Sirius had adored him…how much he’d adored Sirius?

“Are you thirsty?”

The question nearly made him jump, it was so sudden. But Sirius just nodded, swallowing thickly. “Mm. I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

And after a few quiet moments of bustling, Remus returned, handing Sirius a mug full of–

“Mint tea?” Sirius croaked, their eyes finally meeting. His whole body felt kind of floaty. “You remember?”

The taller man shrugged. “Your favorite, right?”

“I…but you hate it. Or did you change–?” Tears were in Sirius’s eyes, now.

“No. I just…I…it’s ridiculous, probably. But I…always kept it around. Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it,” Remus admitted, pinching his lips together and looking at the ground.