#1kparty

you had never been good with confrontation, especially with men. no matter how uncomfortable you got, there was a lingering fear that clung to the back of your mind, one that made you believe that if you fought back it would be worse for you.

so you kept quiet.

luckily for you, sirius had no qualms about violence, especially when it came to defending his friends.

it had always given him an incomprehensible rush. it made him dizzy with power when he felt bones cracking under his hands, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he hit muscle.

the first time it happened, you asked him why he did it. he shrugged, a very faint blush coating his scratched cheeks but he smirked, trying to play it off. “just defending your honor,” he had spoken in jest, but there was a softness to his words— a hidden depth.

sirius blinks repeatedly, his tongue wetting his lips and tasting copper. oh, he thinks, guess the guy did manage a few punches after all.

“where is she?” he asks, worry coating his voice when he doesn’t see you around. you're not hugging lily as you normally do in these moments, letting the redhead soothe you with her caring touch. you're not gripping remus’s lanky arm either, but remus is shaking his head reproachedly, like always.

“after she found me, she left,” james’s voice catches his attention once more.

“and you let her go alone? at 3am?” he snarks, his eyes narrowed.

james lowers his arms, making sirius stumble a little after losing his stability. “sorry,” the sarcasm is clear. “i was a little busy trying to keep you from beating that guy into a pulp. y’re lucky the police didn’t show up.”

he’s about to explain himself, but his mind keeps conjuring up images of you walking alone in the dark. “where did she go?”

james knows what he’s thinking, so he sighs and nods to the left.

sirius clasps him on the shoulder and starts running, trying to catch up to you. he curses you in his mind, why’d you have to be such a fast walker?

about three blocks in he hears heels clicking against cobblestones, a feminine figure walking with her head down and her arms around her waist trying to keep warm. that's when he notices the jacket, and the patch on the back. his jacket.

he calls your name. well, it's more of a shout. you stop walking for a second, wandering if you should let him catch up or keep walking, but you don't get a choice because sirius barrells into you.

"sorry, sorry," he pants, softly squeezing your shoulders. he notices your eyes are a little red, and you sniffle as you step away from him. his heart breaks a little when you do. "why— why did you leave?"

you furrow your eyebrows. "that's what you want to say to me?"

sirius gulps. he doesn't like the underlining anger in your voice. "i just— you shouldn't be walking alone at this time. s’dangerous.”

you roll your eyes. “right, because you’ll just swoop in and beat the shit out of someone if needed. my hero.”

sirius narrows his eyes. “don’t take that tone with me. i did it to defend you, why are you so mad about it?”

"god, sirius, you looked insane!" you cry out. "the poor guy had blood dripping down his face and— and you weren't stopping! i had to get james because you kept pushing me away." then you speak quitely, vulnerably, "it was so scary."

'you were scary' hangs in the air, not spoken but implied, and sirius's heart breaks fully this time. and because he's never been good with emotions, he turns to what’s familiar: anger. "what did you want me to do, huh? he touched you," he snarls.

"i know, i'm not saying he didn't deserve it, but one punch would've been enough. not— not that brutal thing you did," you try to make him see sense. "is he alright?"

sirius tenses. he squares his shoulders, prepares for a fight. "why don't you go ask him since you care so much."

you gape at him. "are you kidding me? are you seriously angry at me?"

"yeah! i was defending you, and now you're looking at me like i'm worse than that idiot who groped you and said all those horrible sexual things about you."

"i never asked for you to defend me! you've always done that, even when i told you we should just walk away because i didn't like the attention it brings!"

"well what do you want me to do when i see disgusting men catcalling you or trying to touch you!?" he steps forward with every word, anger coursing through his veins. "or my personal favourite, when i caught one guy trying to slip a pill into your drink? what do you want me to do, huh?"

you cower at his tone and the memories he brings up, but you still stand your ground. you raise your head and stare straight into his stormy eyes, nostrils flaring. "why do you care so much?! you never get like this with marlene or lily!"

sirius wishes he could hold back his tongue, that he had some semblance of self control. unfortunately, he doesn't. "because i love you, you idiot!"

you freeze up, your arms falling to your sides as you look at him wide eyed. sirius is so fired up he doesn't notice. "i love you, and i won't just sit back and do nothing when those men talk about you like you are a piece of meat— i can't sit back. because you are brilliant, and smart, and kind and brave but you get so small when they say all that shit and i hate it." he paces back and forth between the brick wall and the curb as he rambles. "when they touch you or whistle at you i can't take it, i just have to do something! i know you won’t, and that’s okay. i’ll do it for you, i’ll do anything for you." he cups your face softly.

he pants as he looks at you, chest heaving up and down with rapid velocity. "you love me?" you whisper disbelievingly.

sirius's mind finally caught up to his tongue. "shit," he curses, his hands falling from your face. "fuck," he turns around, gripping his hair and pulling it in frustration.

this is not the way he wanted to tell you.

he walks away, cursing at himself in a low voice when a tight grip on his arm turns him around.

"look, i—" he's caught off by a pair of lips. your lips.

you kiss him timidly, testing the waters, still a little afraid that he didn't mean it like that. but when sirius finally relaxes against you and pulls you close to him by the waist, the kiss turns hungry.

he kisses you like he's been waiting years to do so, like now that he's got a taste he can't bring himself to stop. he still tastes of vodka and lucky charms and blood, but it’s so irrevocably “sirius” that you savour it gladly. your fingers grip the collar of his leather jacket, trying to pull him closer and closer and closer even though it's impossible.

he bites your lower lip, swallowing the moan you let out with a smirk. your teeth clash together, but you're so desperate for him you can't bring yourself to care.

then, it turns slow, lips dancing together like waves meeting the shore. "i love you," you whisper against his mouth and you kiss him again.

"i love you," a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "i love you," a kiss on your nose. "i love you," a kiss on his cheek. "i love you," a kiss on your forehead. "i love you," a kiss under his jaw.

it’s too much of an important night for you to relax.

“patience, bun,” he says, eyeing your fidgety expression. “it’s my present, i can take however long i want, isn’t that right?”

you huff, not exactly in the mood for his need to turn everything into a lesson. “just open it, please,” you whine.

he takes out the paper to reveal a brown box with a purple heart drawn in permanent marker, clearly your doing. he can’t help but smile when he sees both of your initials inside it. never in a million years would he have thought that the pretty girl from the flower shop would give him, the lanky boy with patched clothing and way too many scars, a chance.

he doesn’t think he needs any more gifts, not when the fates gifted you to him.

he opens the cardboard box to reveal a new skateboard. “it’s, um, it’s custom made,” you squeak, your heart beating at a million miles per hour when he turns it over, revealing the true intentions of the gift.

“#1 DAD” is printed in bold red on the bottom. remus’s fingers trace the word “dad” with the same softness they always trace your figure. his eyes fill with tears that don’t fall just yet, but there’s a lump on his throat and his nose turns a little red. “dove,” he whispers, completely taken by surprise.

“there’s another thing inside the box… just in case it wasn’t very clear,” you laugh a little, your own eyes a little weepy.

quickly, he searches through the box, the previous cautiousness nowhere to be found. his fingers wrap themselves around a stick. he knows what it is, he isn’t stupid and he knows what the skateboard means, but something inside him begs for him to check it. to make sure that this isn’t a dream, that the one thing he never thought was possible was actually happening.

the two pink lines of the pregnancy test stare at him, very real and tangible. finally, the tears fall. “we’re having a baby?” his voice is hoarse, full of emotion.

“yeah,” your voice trembles, just as emotional as your boyfriend.

remus launches himself at you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in his lap. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, kissing you there repeatedly. “m’gonna be a dad?” he mumbles.

you cup his face, your thumb brushing away his tears and kissing the scar over the bridge of his nose. “you’re going to be the best dad,” you say, not a trace of doubt in your voice.

he sobs, pulling you in for a kiss that tastes like hot chocolate and salty tears. it’s slow, a way for him to convey all of his emotions. happiness, fear, gratitude, love.

you peek around your canvas, quickly glancing at the random swirls of pink before you catch remus’s playfully narrowed eyes with a giggle. “i told you not to look, bunny.”

you go back to your painting, packing your brush with a royal purple. “sorry,” you say gently.

remus chuckles. he knows you’re not.

a few minutes later, it’s his turn to peek around, though he is doing it to look at you, not at your painting.

your overalls are covered in month’s old paint, red and green and white all over the rough fabric. there’s black on your fingertips and yellow on your left cheek that you accidentally smudged when scratching it. he had heard your gasp of surprise when you remembered your fingers were stained, and the little grumble of “stupid” that made him swallow back a laugh.

your hair is up in a ponytail, stray strands framing your face and a pencil tucked behind your ear. you look so relaxed, shoulders slumped forward and that little crease between your brows is nowhere to be found.

your eyes meet his, heat rising to your cheeks when you see the adoring glint in his pupils. “don’t look at me like that,” you mumble shyly.

remus shrugs. “sorry,” his voice is deep with a hint of amusement. you know he’s not.

he looks back at his painting, stares at the red brush strokes that mix with the pink and the green dots in the corner of the canvas.