"You could barely walk." A smile works at the corner of Sirius' mouth. "Anyways, I enjoyed playing nurse. Consider it my birthday present."
"I already got you a present." Remus says. Nothing colours his voice, its bland and low, but Sirius nearly knocks over the half-full carton of milk all over the counter.Â
"Did you?" When Sirius twists back to look at him again, Remus is already watching him with the familiar hard set of his jaw and furrow of his eyebrows, an old darkness settling over the beautiful lines of his face. Sirius pauses, a silver spoon piled with brown sugar frozen between the cups. "What?"Â
Remus clears his throat, but the words are still said with a bite, like he's gritting his teeth. "I can look after myself, you know."
"Didn't seem like it--"
"Well, I can." He snaps, and Sirius blinks, setting down the spoon on the counter. "I don't need you babying me."
Fuck. Sirius digs his nails into his palm until it hurts, until the hard crescent moons are engraved into the skin. "I was just trying to be a good friend."Â
The darkness slips from Remus' face, just for a second, crawling back into the soft parts of his eyes, but he's standing there in the living room, quite still, as he says-- "You're not my friend."
It sounds like a question. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
"Yes, I am." Sirius replies. He thinks it’s probably not the right answer, because Remus doesn’t speak again. He’s very good at that– not speaking. It’s unfamiliar. Sometimes, Sirius feels like he could start speaking and never ever stop.Â
Sirius suddenly feels very stupid, and very tired, but Remus is already picking up his shoes, so Sirius turns back to stare at his milky mug of tea.
His chest is burning, burning, burning, and it keeps on burning even after Remus has opened his front door and left.Â
A Bird At Your Door by moongoblin
