#crabwrites

13th: Bucket List

“Moony.”

“Mm.”

“Moony.”

Remus peels one eye open, squinting at the onslaught of sunlight peeking through the birch tree they had settled under.

“What?”

Sirius glares down at him, his dark hair bracketing his face handsomely.

“I want to make a tub list.”

Remus’ other eye blinks open.

“What?”

“A tub list,” Sirius repeats, impatiently. “I heard Lily talking about it.”

‘Mad’ was a common word associated with the Black family, but Sirius had dodged most of the accusations by being insane in a completely different way.

“You know, those lists that are full of things you want to accomplish.”

Remus snorts, realisation dawning on him belatedly.

“A bucket list, Padfoot.”

Sirius shrugs, smiling haughtily.

“I think I’d get things done quicker than most people,” he comments, leaning down.

Strands of hair tickle at Remus’ cheeks, and he wrinkles his nose.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Sirius says simply, and kisses him. It’s chaste and upside down, the slide of their mouths rather awkward, but Sirius’s lips are chapped from the wind, sweet with apple, and he cups one hand gently over Remus’ cheek, drawing back breathlessly.

This came to me in a vision while I was working on my main reverse robins fic and I had to write it instantly. It's rough and unedited so please have mercy

Might end up being a full fic as part of my reverse robins au. I have so many ideas and plans for this holy shit

The main fic of my au will be the Tim searching for Jason idea, but I might toss one shots around of other ideas for this.

ANYWAy. I present to you, how tim gets added to the family..... sorta

23rd: Divine

There’s a cold haziness to the hospital, the white, empty ceiling gliding by like an afterthought. Perhaps it’s just Sirius, who feels a throbbing pain in his gut that had been absent up until now, vanished by adrenaline and shock.

“-bleeding out-”

Another face swims over his, brown eyes calm yet bright.

“Do you know your type?” The man asks.

The gurney rounds a corner, rattling terribly, but the stranger doesn’t disappear.

His curly hair is illuminated by the fluorescent lights, a fuzzy halo that Sirius idly traces the outline of with one finger.

“Big brown eyes, freckles,” Sirius slurs, “dark hair, crooked nose, looks like a- a divine- er- thing.”

“Your blood type,” the angel says.

“Oh,” Sirius replies, blinking slowly, “I’ll tell you if you give me your number.”

20th: Flame

Sirius has an uncanny habit of making bland things look casual and elegant. The neck of a beer bottle hangs precariously between his fingers, while the other taps idly against the counter he’s leaning against. He’s undeniably handsome. It's the way he holds himself. Haughty indifference, like the world is simply at his call, procuring little gifts of perfection for him to use as he pleases.

“You’re cosy with that Dearborn bloke,” Sirius says, tipping the bottle to his mouth, eye contact unwavering.

Remus shrugs.

“He’s an old flame.”

“How old?” Sirius licks foam from his lips, smirking disdainfully. “Hogwarts old? Or your ass still hurts old?”

Remus flicks his eyes to the curve of Sirius’ wallet in his jeans. “Not as old as those condoms, at any rate. You know they expire?”

The silence between them is broken by the dull thump of the party around them, cutting through the tension with its crackling music and terrible drinks. Beneath the low light, Sirius looks momentarily furious.

A pleasant warmth settles in the pit of Remus’ stomach, travelling in drowsy waves through his body. His favourite part of being drunk is the initial tipsiness, the burst of lazy confidence it instills in him.

Sirius pushes away from the counter, discarding the bottle with one thoughtless throw. It lands in the sink with a noisy clutter. A firm grip on his chin turns his attention back to Sirius, into the disarming slate of his eyes. One hand lands above his head, bracketing Remus against the cupboards.

“Was he worth it?” Sirius leans down, until his lips ghost along Remus’ ear. “Was he good?”

Remus swallows.

Sirius’ hair smells of tobacco and coconut, tickling gently at his neck as teeth tug at the lobe of his ear.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

21st: You’re Welcome

The Forbidden Forest is different during dawn. Wisps of gentle light fall through the canopies, setting alight each patch of damp grass. It’s mystical, a childhood daydream come to life, and the sharp chill from the dewy grounds that bites through his robes isn’t as insufferable as he usually finds it, even if Remus’ shoes are already covered with dirt and leaves.

He hears the low moans of some thestrals in the distance, a scattered sound that echoes alongside the rustling bushes as something large barrels through the underbrush.

Padfoot skids into the clearing, barking around a large stick.

Remus grins.

“Made you work for it that time.”

He looks awfully proud of himself as he trots forward, tail wagging. The stick is wet with drool, and lined with large teeth marks.

Remus bends down to pick it up, uncaring of the sticky dirt mingling with his friends' salvia.

“Another one?” Remus asks, lifting his arm. “Or are you finally done?“

Padfoot flops onto his side with a low huff.

“Me too,” Remus murmurs.

His skin feels too tight, each movement a strain on his muscles, despite Madam Pomfrey’s insistence that light exercise and stretching was paramount to a swift recovery. He lowers himself next to Sirius, wincing.

Immediately, a wet, long tongue sticks itself to his neck, followed by a cold nose, snuffling loudly.

“I’m okay.” Remus laughs, curling his fingers through the thick fur fondly. “Really.”

It’s far from a lie. The company of his friends during the full moon was a drastic change. There was no more torn skin, bleeding until silver and dittany closed the wound, and his body hadn’t seen any new scars since December.

Remus picks idly at the cuticles in his fingernails, and peers at Padfoot.

“I don’t think I ever properly said thank you,” Remus says quietly.

Padfoot pants loudly.

“For spending years just to do this for me.” Remus squeezes his eyes shut, until the onslaught of sun is nothing but a hazy red, and the ringing in his ears is loud enough to drown out the idle noise around them.

A human hand rests gently over his fist.

14th: Cheap Shot

“And what do we have here Messrs Moony?” Sirius asks, his voice a smug purr as he snatches the folded piece of parchment from Remus’ distracted hands.

“Oi,” Remus snaps, spinning around, “don’t be a git.”

“Why?” Sirius grins. “What’s in it?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Everything in this dormitory is my business,” Sirius says, hiding the parchment behind his back as Remus begins to advance.

“Give it here,” Remus says, with forced patience, but Sirius can see the flickers of embarrassment and irritation swirling in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Do you have something to hide from me?” Sirius asks, with faux concern, “your own boyfriend?”

Remus’ cheeks flush crimson, and he grits his teeth.

“Is it about me?”

Silence rings around the room for a beat too long, and Sirius smiles, bringing his arms forward to slide a finger through the crease of the paper.

What he doesn’t expect is for Remus to launch himself forward. Sirius snatches the paper out the way just in time and holds it above his head.

“Must be something good,” Sirius grins, “is it dirty and- OW-”

Remus grunts, one hand curled around a fistful of Sirius’ hair, the other clawing at Sirius’ outstretched wrist.

“That’s a cheap shot,” Sirius hisses, “LET GO.”

“GIVE IT BACK,” Remus shouts, pulling harder on Sirius’ hair.

“I’m just going to go,” James says from his bed, finally looking up from the Quidditch magazine he had been trying to read for the last five minutes

24th: come down

Sirius spends a good hour scouring the grounds before he has the notion to look up.

Most second years didn’t dare venture into the forest, but Remus was quiet and small enough to settle in the nook of a gigantic root somewhere until he was either forcibly removed, or starved to death. Sirius already knew from a dare that the mushrooms that littered the grass were not edible.

He peers into a tree hollow, pausing at the sound of a gentle sniff.

Sirius tilts his neck back, and grins.

“Wotcher, Remus.”

The canopies above aren’t quite thick enough to block the sun, and scattered beams of light plunge down into his face. Squinting, Sirius places a hand on his forehead, and waves.

“You’re very far up.”

Remus mutters something. His legs are wrapped around a thick trunk, giving him enough leverage to keep his palms over his eyes.

“Surely you’re uncomfortable.”

“Go away, Sirius.”

“Not until you come down.” Sirius scratches his head. “How’d you even get up there?”

There’s a beat of heavy silence.

“The neighbourhood boys used to chase me. They didn’t want to be friends with-” Remus swallows, and rubs harshly at his eyes.

Silently, Sirius curses James for his big mouth, and lack of tact. His best friend didn’t possess a modicum of decorum, and now he was out in the bushes, vaguely cold and fretting.

Sirius Black didn’t fret.

“We don’t care that you’re a werewolf,” Sirius says, firmly.

Remus flinches at the word, slouching further into the bark, as if willing the wood to simply swallow him whole.

Sirius supposes he might be better off using a nicer tone, but the comfort he was used to included yelling and threats of bodily harm.

“I’ll come up there!”

“You don’t know how,” Remus murmurs.

His voice is watery, and barely rises above the wind coasting through the leaves.

“You did it,” Sirius says dismissively, lodging one foot into a notch in the tree, “so I definitely can.”

He barely makes it halfway when a branch snaps beneath him, and the hard ground greets his body before he can register that he’s falling.

Sirius blinks, staring up at the bright sky, and Remus’ cherubic face peering down at him.

“I’ll come down,” Remus says quickly, when Sirius begins to stand with a groan, “don’t be stupid.”

“Don’t fall,” Sirius retorts, beaming.

The throbbing in his tailbone was worth it if it meant Remus felt better. Maybe he’d even hold his hand. If Sirius lost Remus’ friendship because of James’ inability to shut it, he’d curse him into oblivion. Those small, cold fingers curled around his made Hogwarts far less daunting during his first days in the castle, drowning in a sea of expectation and disappointment. Sirius had always been drawn to Remus, or perhaps their demons had simply been drawn to each other.