Chapter Text
Remus Lupin has been staring at the wooden ceiling of his bed for over two hours now, hoping – no, praying – that his insufferable roommate will go away at some point. But Sirius keeps playing his records, one after the other, the annoyingly catchy tunes echoing faintly around the walls of their dorm.
The problem, per se, is not the music. Much to his chagrin, Remus actually shares Sirius’ music taste.
The problem is Sirius. Sirius and his stupid perfect hair that always looks so soft and his maddening charming smile and the way his eyes soften every time he sees Remus entering a room. The problem is the fact that Sirius is his best friend and Remus shouldn’t want to kiss him stupid.
But he does.
And it’s eating him alive.
It has started years ago, like a quiet buzzing just behind Remus’ ear. It was always there, asking to be acknowledged, but now it feels like trying to ignore a whole marching band. A hurricane. The end of the fucking world.
And Remus isn’t sure how much longer he can keep pretending that everything is alright. That it doesn’t kill him every time he sees Sirius flirting with someone, knowing full well that there will never be anything romantic between the two of them.
When it started? Remus can’t pinpoint the exact moment, because he was much too young to realise what was happening at the time. It might have started that very first day on the Hogwarts Express, when Remus was so anxious that he thought he was going to pass out; but then there were these three boys, all as strange as life itself, squeezing on the cushioned benches of the train beside him.
That’s the first time Remus has ever laid eyes on Sirius Black. He was pulling and pushing wildly at his uniform, trying to ruffle it up, as if some wrinkles on his clothes could’ve made him look less posh.
Then Sirius had looked at him, eyes running over his second-hand robe, and said, “Merlin, do you think we could swipe uniforms? Yours is perfect.”
And it was the stupidest thing Remus had ever heard, so he couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh.
Maybe that’s when it started.
Or maybe it was when at his fourth full moon at Hogwarts, Sirius had pulled him aside in the dorm and told him that he knew and that it was okay. That he’d find a way to be by his side even when the moon reclaimed him.
It had taken eleven-year-old Sirius only four months to figure out Remus’ deepest, darkest secret – something that not even the adults in his life could ever figure out. It took James and Peter almost a year more to get there. Sirius was always watching him, like an anxious guardian – like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting Remus out of his sight for too long. It had unnerved Remus’ for the first few months, but then he’d just grown used to it. To the way Sirius always seemed to be the first to notice even the slightest change in Remus.
Sirius eventually did figure out a way to be by his side – two years later, when his friends surprised him with the whole Animagus thing. They never told him so, but Remus’ knew that it had been thanks to Sirius that they were able to make it happen.
Honestly, he might have fallen for Sirius on a random Wednesday afternoon while they were having tea after classes. Or while he was watching the guys playing Quidditch. Or that one time he run into Sirius having a dance-off with the painting on the fourth floor.
Surely, the first day of fifth year hadn’t helped – when Remus had sat on the train next to his friends, Sirius had been staring at him for what felt like half a century, looking dumb struck. And oh, so pretty. Remus had been aware that he had grown a lot during the summer, but he didn’t think it made all that much of a difference. Apparently, it did, if it made Sirius look at him like that.
Remus doesn’t know – and that would be okay. He would be okay with it all, because Sirius is wonderful and there is no one that deserves his devotion more than him – but for Merlin’s sake! Why can’t Sirius just leave the dorm for half an hour?
Is it too much to ask for?
Remus had come back because he had been horny and frustrated and he had needed the privacy and what a perfect moment if not during Quidditch practice? It meant having the room all to himself for a few hours.
Except, the moment he had closed the curtains of his bed and settled down against his pillows, he had heard the door slamming shut. Footsteps. (He could recognize those footsteps even he was drunk out of his mind.) And then the music started.
And now Remus is stuck in his bed with a painful boner.
He can’t get out because otherwise Sirius will ask him what he was doing in bed at this hour (and Remus won’t be able to keep his cheeks from flushing, which will lead to Sirius seeing right through him and teasing until the end of times).
And he can’t cast a privacy charm on his bed because: first, he isn’t very good at casting spells without saying the words out loud. And second, his wand is currently on his nightstand right outside the curtains. Although, Remus has never been more thankful to be messy, the piles of his books hiding his wand from sight.
The worst part is that he’s desperately trying to make his boner go away (imagining Filch sunbathing always does the trick), but having the object of his frustration at a spoonful of meters from him singing softly to himself makes it impossible to think about anything but.
Remus is bound to die before the end of the school year.
And that’s when Remus hears the words that he’s been dreading since Sirius opened the door. Sirius says, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” and Remus’ heart stops beating in his ribcage.
It takes all of three seconds for the music to stop abruptly, “What the…?” Remus hears the shuffling of blankets and Sirius’ bed creaking, “Moony?”
Remus has always been proud of his idea of creating the Map – now he wishes he had thrown himself off of the Astronomy tower that day instead of suggesting its creation to his fellow Marauders.
He knows he can’t escape. The map never lies.
“What.” Remus says, grumpily. Not really a question.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” Sirius asks, his footsteps approaching quietly.
Remus groans, “I was just taking a nap.”
“You never take naps,” Sirius points out, “The full moon is still too far to bother you. Are you alright?”
“Peachy.” Remus says, hoping that it’ll be enough to be left alone.
Then, horrifyingly, he sees Sirius trying to open his curtains. “No! No, don’t come in here!”
The curtains still, but Remus can perfectly picture the way Sirius is squinting his eyes at him. “Because…” he mumbles, trying to think of something – anything. “Because I want to be alone?”
It sounds like a question even to his own ears.
“Aw, come on, Moony.” Sirius chuckles, “Surely that doesn’t include one Mr. Sirius Black.”
Sirius’ face appears between the folds of the thick curtains and he stares down at Remus’ with a shit eating grin. Remus thanks every God he has ever heard of that he has his blankets pulled on top of him, keeping his body and his problem out of sight.
Remus’ snorts, but before he can formulate an answer, Sirius is poking him in the ribs and throwing himself at him to jokingly tackle him. It isn’t weird, not really – it’s one of Sirius’ love languages. He’s always tackling both Remus and Prongs every time he has the chance.
But this time it is weird, because Remus goes violently rigid and tries to squirm away, but that just ends up making things worse. Sirius loses his balance when Remus moves away and he falls on top of him with a huff, their faces so close that Remus finds it hard to breathe.
“What the hell, Moony?” Sirius says, trying to push himself up, but in doing so their hips smash together and Sirius’ jaw falls open. “Oh.”
Any rational thought he might have had fly out of the window, but if he were capable of forming one, Remus would be delighted to see the aggressive blush on Sirius’ cheeks. It’s probably the first time he has ever seen him flustered since he met him.
As it is, though, he can only push Sirius off his bed and hides his face under the covers, mortified.
“Go away.” Remus pleads, the sound coming out muffled and scratchy.
Silence. Then, “Moony, it’s –“
“Just please fucking go away.” Remus begs, “Please.”
When the room finally grows quiet and the door clicks shut, Remus allows himself to start spiralling into desperation.
He ponders, while he’s taking the coldest shower of his life, whether being home-schooled might still be an option for him. And whether he’ll ever be able to look at Sirius again.
Probably not.