june prompt 17: nonbinary • @wolfstarmicrofic • word count: 669
Remus fiddles with their pleated skirt, creasing and flattening a couple of folds that had been wrinkled at first but were now even more of a mess since they'd started messing with it. They sigh, tugging on their jumper instead, then scuffing their shoes against the pavement beneath their feet. The bench is growing hard beneath their arse and they're just thinking about walking around when there's a commotion at the entrance of the park: a person with long hair, a leather jacket and boots. Their jeans are so tight Remus can see the definition of their gorgeous thighs from their bench; droolworthy, perfect thighs.
Their heart gives a twist.
Padfoot has been their friend for ages. Online only, of course, given that Remus lives in Wales and Padfoot in Islington, but they've been friends for going on twenty-two years now. As soon as Sirius had a phone that could take photos, they'd begun snapping selfies: Remus isn't sure they've ever seen a more beautiful person in their life.
Sirius looks around, then their eyes alight on Remus, and they perk up from their casual slouch to an excited jog, crossing the distance between them quickly, until they get in speaking distance and falter, broad shoulders coming up to their ears.
They stop just a few paces from the bench, and eyes made of liquid silver roll over them, taking in their knobby knees, the brown plaid pleated skirt, the brown jumper, and falter on their face. At first, they wonder if it's repulsion, but then Sirius flushes, cheeks coloring.
It's the first time Sirius will have seen them. Sure, they both started talking before they'd come out—before they both realized that their preferred gender was neither man, nor woman, but something else entirely. Back when Sirius used to laugh and dream of an escape, back when Remus longed to be worthy.
Hesitantly, they ask, "Moony?" and shove their long, gorgeous hands deep into their pockets, exposing their shyness for what it is.
Remus stands, fixing their skirt and awkward wave. They'd told themself they wouldn't smile widely so as not to expose their wonky teeth, but this is their oldest friend. They can't help it, lips curling into a smile, heart thudding in their chest, pulse roaring in their ears. Sirius is taller than Remus, but more buff, with more padding around the middle compared to how stick thin and inefficient Remus is. They glow brighter than their namesake, and their hair is long; wavy and thick past their shoulders and cascading down their back. This is who they've been in love with for half their life?
Part of them wants to flee, to apologize and say they misunderstood, but Sirius is looking at them with so much hope, so much feeling, that they can't deny their oldest friend.
"Padfoot," Remus confirms, and spreads their arms out: Sirius gapes, then launches themself into them. Remus' arms have always been long and awkward, elbows and wonky joints, but when they hug Sirius, they don't feel awkward. It doesn't feel like the first time they've met, but a lifetime of missing someone they've always known. They sink into Sirius' embrace and tuck their face against their shoulder, and breathe them in.
Sirius smells like a crisp summer breeze, a tad bit of gasoline, perhaps a bit of cigarette smoke, but all of that is dwarfed by the warm chicory mixed with sandalwood that must be their cologne.
"I can't believe this is happening," Sirius murmurs, squeezing Remus hard, holding them with firm, steady hands against their lower back. "You're gorgeous, you know?"
Everything in Remus wants to reject it, but that's the thing: the only one who has never lied to them is Sirius. The only one who they've ever come out to is Sirius. The only one who knows everything, who has been there every step of the way, is Sirius.
For once in their life, they're not hiding. For once in their life, they feel at home.
