Wolfstar: Smut, set during the days leading up to a full moon, so Remus is really dominant in bed.
Remus had been snapping all day long, and whilst Sirius knew it wasn’t his fault (he was always like this during the prelude to the full moon) it was grating on him regardless. And when Sirius got annoyed about something he pushed and pushed until they both got in a massive argument, like he was doing right now.
Remus let out a loud sigh as his boyfriend pawed at his t-shirt, fully aware that Sirius was trying to start an argument. “I need to finish this,” He said tersely, gesturing down to the bills in front of him.
“I don’t care.” Sirius said, slipping his hand up under his t-shirt and trailing his hand over his spine.
A rough sigh left Remus’ lips before he twisted quickly, trapping Sirius’ hands “You’re such a pain.” He ground out before he crashed his lips down. Sirius weakened a little, not used to this before he started to kiss him back, though Remus was definitely in control at the moment. And Sirius didn’t mind.
Lupin has his own place, Dumbledore said so at the end of GOF. That means that Lupin stayed with Sirius at Grimmauld Place out of his own freewill and not because he needed a place to crash.
So either Sirius just told Lupin to stay with him because Grimmauld Place was less unbearable when he was around or Lupin just started staying nights at Grimmauld Place anyway because he wanted to catch up with his best friend and then realised that as he was practically living there anyway he might as well make it official.
Either way… I have feels over these two again.
I hadn’t thought of that before! That’s wonderful!
Remus Lupin detested secrets. He always had. He considered them the epitome of hatred, denial, depression. Oppression. As a young boy, they were even worse. They meant lies and ends of friendships.
Remus locked himself away because of secrets. He pressed sweaty palms against scarred ears, tried to keep the secrets in and drown out their sound.
When he got his letter for Hogwarts, he decided he never wanted to silence another secret again. Lupin equated them the keeping of them to the task of attempting not to hear your own heartbeat. He held the letter to his chest, closed his eyes, and listened.
His ideas for sharing shattered as soon as he met Sirius Black.
Remus couldn’t blame him. Puppy-eyed, messy-haired Sirius, who inspired confidence and devilishness and all the things the timid, bookworm of a little boy had never been able to explore. Pinch me, and later, Shag-me-if-I’m-wrong Sirius.
And oh, how he wanted to.
That was his secret now. Not his ‘furry little problem’ as his friends so colloquially called it.
No, it was his love.
Remus had always thought that love would be a good thing; that he would finally escape the ashamed love he had grown to know. But it wasn’t gone—it was just hiding inside of him. Instead of others being ashamed to love him, he was ashamed to love Sirius. He had a good thing going with the wolfish trickster of a boy, and he didn’t want to ruin it over something as trivial as heartache.
Remus Lupin detested secrets.
Sirius Black adored secrets. He wore them like a coat and hoarded them like galleons. To him, they were the definition of freedom, happiness, life. Hope. They meant ways to escape his family and new friendships.
Sirius opened himself up because of secrets. He shouted wild things and acted even wilder. He danced, and he never had to worry about someone finding out what was hidden under all those secrets.
When he got his Hogwarts letter, he promised to collect more secrets. He could become them, define them, and turn himself into whatever he wanted to be. He held the letter to his chest, closed his eyes, and breathed.
His ideas about hiding fractured as soon as he met Remus Lupin.
Sirius couldn’t blame him. Bright-eyed, scarred Remus, who inspired companionship and trust and all the things the broken, rebellious little boy had never been able to explore. Intelligent, tire, and oh-so-kissable Remus.
And oh, how Sirius wanted to.
That was Sirius’ secret now. He shared the rest with his friends; cast away that ugly shell he had grown up in. He still kept the important ones, of course, but broke that shallow mold he had called home. He even tried to make the attraction apparent; he would brush against the wolf-boy in the corridor, make suggestive jokes, bat his eyelashes, and kiss his cheek. But that wasn’t enough because no, it wasn’t love.
Sirius had always thought that love would be a good thing; that he would finally escape the fake love he had grown to know. But it wasn’t gone—it was just hiding inside him. It forced him to think he was not worthy of Remus, and showed him that it was the secrets that protected him. Protected both of them. He had a good thing going with the timid bookworm of a boy, and didn’t want to ruin him with something as permanent as heartbreak.
Sirius Black adored secrets.
One thing can be said for boys with secrets: They have a simple time recognizing them in others.
Wolfstar: Kissing each other’s scars, for anon.
Remus remembered, with shocking clarity, being sixteen and stupid and desperate. He remembered Sirius lying in his bed in the dormitory, the two of them hardly daring to breathe for fear of being discovered. He remembered running his fingers down Sirius’ chest, feeling the downy, dark hair that was starting to grow and marveling at how smooth and untouched it was. Sirius looked every part the aristocrat, and he had the scarless skin to show it. He had never had to suffer pain a day in his life- at least not the kind that would leave marks.
He remembered his sudden fear and nervousness, how self-conscious he’d been of the ropy white and pink lines that crisscrossed his own young body. He remembered being so scared that Sirius would be repulsed; and he remembered soft lips pressing against all of the scars he revealed when he stripped down the murmured assurances that Remus was beautiful.
That was years ago, now, and as they lay together in Remus’ tiny bed he could see every change on Sirius’ body. He had scars now, from the war when they were still little more than children, from Azkaban and everything that had came after it.
He admired the fact that Sirius hadn’t shied away from him, that he had lain underneath Remus unapologetic and uncaring of the scars that he’d been marked with. And if the werewolf had heard a few soft, choked sobs when he pressed his lips to those faded white marks, then he didn’t say anything about it. He let Sirius kiss the tips of his fingers, and then his lips replaced the path they had taken when they were both teenagers with no idea of the plans fate had for them. It had been a long time since Remus had cared about something as silly as his scars, but he loved Sirius for finding them beautiful nonetheless.
Remus sighed, breathing in the scents of freshly ground coffee, cinnamon-laced baked goods, and steaming earl grey tea. Working at the Sterling Star cafe meant getting up earlier than anyone had a right to be awake, long hours on his feet that made his whole body ache, and dealing with customers who made him grit his teeth in an effort not to snarl. On the bright side, it also meant that he got out before six o’clock every day, and the pay was… not terrible.
And the chocolate sauce on top of it all was Sirius Black.
A regular, Black had the effortless, scrappy style of a rock star, and smiled like he knew it. Remus knew that smile. That was the smile that brought men and women alike flocking to a person. Black could have anyone one he wanted. All Remus could do was content himself with bringing his regular his order, and make small chat with him.
"Hey, are you feeling alright?" Black asked, as Remus brought him his coffee and blueberry muffin. Despite the other’s rough-and-tumble appearance, Black took his coffee as light and sweet as Remus could make it- which made Remus wonder why he didn’t just get hot chocolate, or some other drink.
"Hm? Oh, yes, just run-down, I suppose," Remus said, "Is there anything else you’d like?
"Nah, I’m good. Thanks."
A couple of hours later, when Black had left, Remus moved in to bus the table and collect his tip. It was embarrassing to admit, and he felt slightly predatory claiming Black as ‘his’ regular, but Black’s frankly amazing tips allowed Remus train fair to the clinic he frequented, along with some left over for his weekly chocolate indulgence.
Today, however, there was a napkin with blue scribbles beneath the tip. A string of numbers, and the words "Feel better. And call me."