Berlin Angel

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/36291976.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Character: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Regulus Black, James Potter, Lily Evans
Potter
Additional Tags: Romance, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Marauders Era (Harry Potter),
Marauders, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe -
Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Depression, identity crisis,
Berlin (City), Berlin is basically it's own character, Sirius is oblivious but
he's also not really, Remus is a ray of sunshine, Smut, Happy Ending,
extensive use of the word fuck, Alternative title could be 'Sirius Black
and Gay Panic', Or 'Remus fucking Lupin', This is basically my love
letter to Berlin, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends, Friends to Lovers,
Pining
Language: English
Collections: My favorite gays aka Wolfstar, favourites, best of the fucking best
wolfstar, wolfstar fics but like also any other fic that sounds mildly
interesting, cool stuff, wolfstar essentials, My heart is full, my marauders
era tbr, Favwolfstar, the wolfstar greats, best wolfstar, devastating
mauraders masterpieces, soph's all time fav marauders era ffs, Best of
wolfstar fics, holy grails of wolfstar, harry and his gay dads
Stats: Published: 2022-01-08 Completed: 2022-02-03 Words: 89,679
Chapters: 17/17

Berlin Angel
by de_sire

Summary

Berlin is absolutely miserable in February. Or it’s just Sirius.

Alternatively: A story of how Remus Lupin stepped into Sirius’ life, flashed his trademark
grin, and reminded him that life is a beautiful thing meant to be enjoyed. No risk, no fun!

Notes

This goes out to all my fellows struggling with depression. Sirius might have needed one
Remus Lupin to get him out of his misery, but maybe all you need is this story.

And if you are still on the fence about whether you should read this right now, I will make
you three promises: you will fall in love with Remus Lupin, you will fall in love with
 Berlin, and you will have the most fun you had with a story in ages. Do you trust me?

The lovely @losthelove has compiled a playlist of all the songs to this story for us, thank
you!

You can find the Berlin Angel map here if you want to take a virtual (or real) trip through
the places mentioned in this story!

See the end of the work for more notes

 It all started with a jacket
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Ich weiß, ich hab gesagt (I know I said)

Ich bin heute am Start (I am down tonight)

Aber ich komm nicht klar und da (But I can’t cope and where)

Wo ich schon tausend Mal war (I’ve been a thousand times)

Will ich heute nicht hin (I don’t want to go there)

 Weil da immer die gleichen Leute sind (Because all the same people are there)

Und weil ich müde bin (And I’m tired)

– AnnenMayKantereit, Ich geh heut nicht mehr tanzen

Berlin is absolutely miserable in February.

The sky hangs low and grey, full of unshed rain and exhaust gases above the frost-slicked streets.
The people are darkly-clad and darkly-spirited, striding over the crunchy road salt on the
pavements like ill-willing missiles. The facades of century-old buildings are crumbling from
neglect under layers of graffiti.

Berlin is absolutely miserable in February. Or it’s just Sirius.

With numb fingers, he presses the green-glowing ‘open’ button on the train carriage and quickly
side-steps to let a thin stream of glowering passengers out. It feels like every single one of them
looks Sirius straight in the eyes as if saying ‘you are a waste of space’. He smiles politely, not
looking at anyone in particular, and lets himself be carried into the gaping mouth of the train like a
small bubble in a stream of soap water draining in the kitchen sink.

The seats are all taken, and Sirius quickly walks to the back of the entrance, resuming a stance at
the opposite doors – one of his favourite spots on trains here. It has the luxury of avoiding the
glorious prospect of standing in someone’s armpit, and a handle to grab onto while allowing for a
quick exit. Like all good things, it comes with its risks – for example, being trampled over by
stubborn cyclists with their metal companions. They are everywhere, literally everywhere. Sirius
hates cyclists.

With an ear-ringing sound, the doors close and the train takes off, snaking its way above the streets
of the city. Sirius leans his head against the plastic of the wall and gazes through the condensation-
fogged window. The morning darkness is slowly lifting, replaced by a depressing grey – it will stay
like that for the whole day, and no one will be able to tell what time it is without a watch. Is it eight
in the morning? Is it three in the afternoon? No one knows. Sirius is sure Berlin is just a
simulation, time is not real here, it’s just a soul-hoovering machine that sucks all joy out of you
until you’re nothing but an empty shell. Just a couple more months and Sirius will join the rest of
the crowd, buy a black North Face jacket, and death-stare at anyone daring to make eye contact.

Okay, maybe he is a little bit dramatic.

He gets ripped out of his thoughts by an annoyed woman with a double buggy that almost pins him
to the wall. She has a look on her face that asks, ‘What are you going to do about it?’. The two
toddlers in the buggy look just as unimpressed as their parent.

Sirius scrambles to step out of her trap and frantically looks around for another place to stay until
he has to get off. The train is emptier now, they just left a big changeover stop, and a lot of people
filtered out to catch another train line. With an incredible amount of relief, Sirius spots an empty
seat at the very back of the carriage and hurries to take it.

It’s a two-by-two booth, like most of the seats on trains here, and it’s almost empty except for one
seat. Sirius slumps down diagonally from the other passenger – an unspoken but vital rule on
public transport in Berlin. The first seat taken is always the one at the window, facing in the
driver’s direction, then the one diagonally from it to allow for maximum space, then the second
one in the driver’s direction – and then the last pitiable passenger has to squeeze past all the other
three to the second window seat. This is how it’s done, and people will judge you if you don’t
comply with it.

Sirius sighs and looks up at his booth companion, careful not to make an impression of someone
who stares at strangers. But all his good intentions are out of the window as soon as he sees the
guy.

It’s nothing Sirius has seen in Berlin before. Or anywhere else, come to think of it. He is like a
negative space in all the darkness around them; as if a clever stage director has illuminated him
with a well-placed light from behind. He looks completely out of place here.

He’s lounging in the seat uncaringly, one long leg bent and balancing an ankle on his knee, looking
down at his phone. Light, almost blond curls spill around big headphones like a halo, falling into
his eyes. He’s wearing intentionally oversized glasses, gold-rimmed and reflecting half of his
phone screen for Sirius to see – he’s reading something, a book or maybe an article, mouthing
enthusiastically and unashamedly along to whatever is playing in his headphones.

The thing that catches Sirius’ attention even more than his general attitude, is his jacket. It seems
to be of some sort of fluffy fleece material and flashing in different, bright colours – one sleeve
pink, another light blue, the high collar and chest bright yellow, the lower part lilac. As if a pack of
back-to-school highlighters vomited on him. It’s absolutely, outrageously ridiculous and Sirius
can’t help a genuine smile.

The guy looks up from his phone, looking over Sirius’ shoulder to the display, probably making
sure he hasn’t missed his stop. Behind the large glasses, his eyes are incredibly vibrant as well –
green, with a bright golden rim around the pupils, and framed with surprisingly dark eyelashes. He
looks down, and on the way, his eyes briefly graze over Sirius. With a quizzical look, he glances
up from his phone again and looks Sirius straight in the eyes, catching his staring.

Sirius blinks a couple of times and quickly looks away, mortified. How embarrassing. He’s done it
again; he has been staring at a stranger like a total weirdo. No matter how good someone looks, or
how eyewatering his clothing choices are, this is just bad manners. A bit hesitant, Sirius quickly
looks at the guy again, just to make sure the moment has passed. He is still looking at Sirius
attentively, an amused smile clinging lopsided to his lips.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–“ Sirius says, feeling his cheeks burn.

The guy raises his eyebrows and nudges one shell of his headphones back. Oh, right, he didn’t hear
anything.

“I said, I like your jacket,” Sirius says and smiles politely.

The guy smiles brighter and tugs his headphones down completely, letting them hang over his
neck. “Thanks. I like yours too,” he says and looks down at Sirius‘ chest.

Sirius is momentarily stunned by his voice – surprisingly deep for the way he looks, with an
adorable little accent. It’s not as pronounced as of some other Germans’, although the younger
generation speaks almost perfect English, but still noticeable.

With some confusion, Sirius looks down on himself, completely unable to recall what he’s wearing
today. Oh, it’s his most favourite leather jacket – a little rebellion against Berlin and its weather
that will ultimately end with him catching a nasty cold, but sometimes that’s a risk you have to take
to stay true to yourself.
“Err… Thank you,” Sirius says and looks up again.

The guy cocks his head and grins. “Wanna trade?”

Sirius wavers for a long moment, not really sure what he’s suggesting – is this some sort of
language barrier? But then the guy is already getting up, taking off his absurd jacket and handing it
over to Sirius. Just like that. Underneath, he’s wearing a pristinely white hoodie without any logo.

Completely bewildered, Sirius stares at the offered garment. Is this guy crazy? Does he really want
to trade jackets with a total stranger on a train? Sirius is still in some sort of daze, but he feels
himself move automatically to take his own jacket off. The guy is still grinning when Sirius offers
it to him, and takes it easily, draping it over his shoulders.

Sirius accepts his jacket in return – it’s heavy and feels incredibly warm, the body heat lingering on
the thick material – but before he can do or say anything else, the guy looks up at the display again
as the train halts on the next stop.

“Bye!” he says and, just like that, leaves a confused Sirius alone, taking with him his most
favourite leather jacket.

It takes Sirius a moment to realize what happened, and he quickly leans over to the window to
catch the heap of golden curls descent the stairs of the platform. With Sirius’ most favourite leather
jacket. Never to be seen again. This is the most absurd thing that has happened to Sirius, probably,
ever.

Maybe all of this is not real, and he really did catch the flu, and now he’s imagining things in a
fever dream?

Not having any other options, Sirius reluctantly puts his arms through the sleeves of the jacket and
tugs it on. They seem to be of similar size because it fits nicely, maybe the sleeves are a bit too
long. It’s incredibly cosy and smells… Sirius lifts the high collar to his face, feeling absolutely
mental, and sniffs the material. It smells good. Of nothing specific, definitely not cologne or body
spray, but it has a very distinct smell.

With a weird feeling in his stomach, Sirius drops the collar and stares unseeingly out of the
window. He just traded jackets with a handsome, mysterious stranger on Berlin’s public transport,
and he just smelled his body odour. And he liked it. What the actual fuck.

The jacket has large pockets and Sirius absentmindedly sticks his cold hands in them but quickly
takes them out. They aren’t empty.

With detached fascination, Sirius retrieves a napkin and a pack of gum from one pocket. And a
wallet from the other.

The guy gave Sirius his jacket with his wallet still inside .

“Savignyplatz,” the soul-less voice of the train announces, and Sirius scrambles up to get to the
exit before the doors close again. He might just have had the weirdest interaction of his life, but he
still has to make it to work on time.

The strange guy and his jacket can wait.

***
The company Sirius works at pays absolutely miserable wages, expects ungodly working hours,
and doesn’t actually produce anything or bring any benefit to the world. But, hey, it has a smoothie
bar.

None of his co-workers is actually German, and Sirius has a strong suspicion that the only reason
he was hired was that they still lacked a British employee. It seemed like the founders were more
concerned with covering the whole globe on their ‘our team’ website than actually doing a good
job. A thing, Sirius learned quickly, that was concerningly common on Berlin’s start-up market.

It suited Sirius just fine. He was not after a fulfilling life mission or an enviable career. He wanted
to get out. This is what he told during the interview as well. Exactly like that.

“Why do you want to work for our company?” the CEO who insisted on being called ‘just Pete’
asked, legs hoisted up on the meeting table in an exaggerated display of casualness.

“I want to get away from England,” Sirius said.

Just Pete laughed joyfully as if it was a clever joke.

“And why do you think we should hire you?” he asked then.

“Because I am the best Marketing Director you will ever see,” Sirius said.

It was an obvious exaggeration. He knew it. Just Pete knew it. He still nodded approvingly.

“One last question,” he said with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Imagine you are working here, and
you open the fridge in the communal kitchen. There is yoghurt with a best-before date that passed
yesterday. What do you do? A: Throw it away. B: Eat it. C: Ask if anyone else still wants it.”

Sirius just looked at him, feeling dead inside. “I’m lactose intolerant,” he said.

“You will hear back from us until the end of the week,” Pete said.

And just like that, after weeks of paperwork and apartment hunting, of which Sirius doesn’t know
what was worse, he arrived in Berlin for his first day of work. It truly felt like a new start – a new
year, a new city, a new job. So many possibilities before him. He really had hopes that it would
change everything, give him the perspective he desperately needed and an opportunity to reset his
life.

As it turns out, you can run from your country, and family, and friends, and exes, but you cannot
run from yourself.

Sirius hoped for a new beginning, a fresh start, a happier life. What he got was seasonal (hopefully
just that) depression, incredible amounts of stress from moving countries and settling into a new
workplace, and no one, absolutely no one , to talk to.

This was Berlin in its essence. No one cared about you, at all. Not even superficially. No one
would ask how you are doing at the shops; no one would carry uncomfortable conversations at the
doctor’s office out of politeness; no one would make any moves to get to know you.

It was the loneliest Sirius has ever been, while constantly surrounded by over three and a half
million people every day. The paradox of big cities, coupled with German indifference, and
Berlin’s trademark rudeness. Sirius didn’t find it quirky to be snapped at while ordering a meal or
buying groceries, or just existing in the wrong place at the wrong time, no matter how people tried
to romanticize the Berliner Schnauze.

Sirius was absolutely miserable in Berlin.

***

He gets off from work when it’s already dark outside. The days are getting longer the closer spring
comes, but Sirius has yet to see any improvement on that front when he’s working. It’s making his
brain mushy in the worst way; he has the feeling he spends all his time either in darkness or under
neon lights.

Maybe he has a vitamin D deficiency. Maybe he should get some supplements or something.

Today is especially bad because Sirius doesn’t even have the feeling that he has been productive.
He spent all day thinking about that guy from the train.

He really was like a breath of fresh air. Sirius was too confused and stunned to process it at the
time, but retrospectively, he’s sure that the reason he was instantly drawn to him was that he had
this vibe… It wasn’t even his clothing style, although it was a bit unusual for the morning
commuter crowd – Sirius has seen people dress in all kinds of ways in Berlin. This guy’s jacket
was a bit too colourful in the sea of dark raincoats and outdoor gear Germans loved to wear
casually, but it didn’t even come close to the craziest outfits that can be seen on Berlin’s streets
every day.

He was just different. Sirius can’t even say why . He just knows it. That guy had a big sign above
his head that said ‘main character’ in bold letters. And Sirius was just a lucky extra, graced with his
short-lived attention. This whole jacket-trading-stunt was probably just some elaborate character
development for the guy and had zero to do with Sirius himself.

Was it sad to feel like a side character in your own life? Or was it just a healthy dose of self-
awareness?

The guy was handsome too, not just in a traditional sense, although that too. It seemed like he
lacked a certain barrier – his face was open, friendly, not as closed off as most people tend to look
like in public places.

And his behaviour? What sort of person just randomly does something like this?

It was a mystery that didn’t let Sirius go all day. The jacket, slung over his office chair, attracted
his eyes every time he got up from his seat; its soft collar pressed against Sirius’ back almost
encouragingly while he tried to focus on his work.

The first thing Sirius does when he arrives at his flat is to turn on the bright overhead light and pull
out the contents of the pockets again.

Chewing gum. Napkin. Wallet.

Sirius feels like a cheap version of Sherlock Holmes and feels inexplicably amused, picking up the
pack of gum and inspecting it from all sides. Just normal gum, spearmint, some of it is already
missing. Did the guy chew it when he was on the train? Sirius can’t remember, but it doesn’t feel
significant enough, so he moves on.

The napkin turns out to be from some business Sirius doesn’t know. It’s clean apart from a rumpled
corner as if it came in contact with something wet at some point. The logo on the bottom is in
green ink – a contour of a wolf howling at the moon that looks more like a disco ball. A bar
maybe? Or a club? The guy definitely looked like someone who would go clubbing.

Sirius imagines him, without his big headphones, head thrown back and curls flashing up in all
different colours to the beat of some techno music, a teasing smile bright and happy on his face.
Maybe he would be wearing Sirius’ jacket next time – it did look good on him, probably cooler
than on Sirius himself. Or not, actually, who wears jackets while dancing? Sirius was really out of
his depth here…

He left the wallet for last even though it was probably the item that held most of the answers. It’s
thin and light, barely bigger than a credit card and of some weird, waxy material. Definitely not
leather.

Sirius opens the wallet eagerly and stares at the neat row of cards. On the other side is a small,
magnet-closed pocket for change which is completely empty, and it opens up on the long side to
reveal a compartment for banknotes.

“Germans and their love for cash,” Sirius murmurs to himself, mostly amused.

The guy left Sirius his wallet with around one hundred euros in cash. Who carries around so much
money? Or is he some careless rich kid?

Sirius snorts at himself. He should be the last person to judge someone because of their finances –
not with his old-money family, not with his overstated Oxford degree, not with his history of
overpaid employment.

Burning with curiosity, Sirius takes out the cards and lays them on the top of his dinner table,
careful to not forget the right order – he wouldn’t want the guy to know he went through his things
if he finds a way to give him his wallet back. Because he definitely should. A hundred euros! If
Sirius’ guess is not correct, and the guy is not some well-off prissy, then this is probably half of his
food budget for the month.

The first card is his ID. Jackpot!

“Remus John Lupin,” Sirius reads aloud, trying the name out on his tongue. That’s an interesting
name. Definitely not German, but this is not surprising in a city like Berlin. Sure, he had an accent,
but Sirius doesn’t know if it’s a German one, he could be from anywhere. Or his parents were just
as mental as Sirius’.

“Twenty-seven!” Sirius exclaims out loud to his empty flat.

Remus certainly didn’t look like he was twenty-seven. He looked barely over twenty, if that. Sirius
is twenty-eight himself, just a couple of months older than him, but he feels ancient in comparison
to that guy. Remus seemed like someone who brings his laundry over to his parents’ house to wash.
Sirius had set up a private pension account and invested in an ergonomic pillow.

Sirius studies his picture very carefully. He looks exactly the same on it as he did this morning,
maybe his hair was a little shorter back then. It’s not even a bad picture – Sirius liked to calm
himself with the thought that everyone looked horrible in ID photos, but not Remus, apparently.
Sirius checks the back to see when the ID was given out and huffs a laugh – five years ago. This
guy really doesn’t age, does he?

Even his signature looks cool. Elegant somehow, but in an effortless I’m-good-at-everything-I-do-
and-I-don’t-care kind of way. He probably has nice handwriting too.

He was, indeed, German. Born in Berlin. So, definitely bonkers parents with a passion for unique
names. Sirius could relate to that.

Eye colour was stated as green, but Sirius knew that already. He was, apparently, 187 cm tall,
which in Sirius’ books was fucking giant – he didn’t have the time to appreciate his height on the
train, unfortunately. Sirius himself barely scratched the 180 cm and he was only a little bitter about
it.

And now Sirius knows his address too, which is a bit weird. That was incredibly stupid of Remus
to give him his jacket without checking the pockets beforehand. Now a complete stranger knew
very personal details about him. Not that Sirius would do anything bad with it, but he could have!
Very irresponsible.

But what do you expect from a guy who spontaneously suggests trading jackets with someone just
because they expressed their liking for it?

Sirius puts the ID back in the wallet and moves over to the other cards. One is a health insurance
card, which is the first responsible thing he witnesses from Remus – at least he carries his
insurance card with him in case of an accident. Another one is a public transport card for a whole
year. Sirius checks quickly, but no, there is no license. So, Remus probably doesn’t drive and takes
public transport every day. Well observed, Sherlock, that’s the case for most residents in Berlin
anyway.

The other two are bank cards, a debit and a credit. Sirius rolls his eyes and really hopes that Remus
noticed the absence of his wallet quickly and blocked the cards – if Sirius was someone else, he
could easily spend all of his money now.

He won’t, but he could.

For some weird reason, Sirius feels a bit angry. Stupid guy, why is he so careless? How did he even
survive for so long with an attitude like that?

Maybe because he doesn’t think the world is out to get him, a voice in Sirius’ head supplies.

Well, that’s very naïve of him, Sirius shoots back mentally.

“Great, I’m talking to myself now,” he murmurs. Then notices what he has done and shakes his
head at himself. He’s slowly losing his mind.

Sirius puts all the cards back to where they belong and studies the wallet a second time, more
carefully now. And, indeed, he finds another compartment with some paper jammed inside.

With an appreciative hum, Sirius pulls out an organ donor card. Remus Lupin, ready for any type
of emergency, it seems like. Good for him.

The other one looks like a page from a book, or maybe printer paper. It’s quite old and tattered at
the edges where it’s neatly folded to fit into the small pocket while also showing the writing at the
same time. Sirius quickly scans the lines and then returns to read them with more care. It’s in
German and Sirius struggles to piece the words together into a coherent thought. Picking up his
phone, Sirius goes the extra step of translating the short note.
 Your task is not to seek for love,

But merely to seek and find

all the barriers within yourself

that you have built against it.

“Oh.” Sirius exhales slowly, the meaning sinking in slowly. It feels like a punch to the stomach, in
the most weirdly uplifting way. If Sirius wasn’t an atheist, he would definitely think the universe
was trying to talk to him. “Who the fuck are you, Remus Lupin?”

***

This was definitely a stupid idea, Sirius thinks to himself while he freezes his butt off in the line at
the entrance of a club.

After going through Remus’ wallet like a creep, he began thinking of how to return his wallet to
him. He probably could have handed over the wallet to a lost-and-found place, but he wasn’t so
sure that Remus would go through the trouble of seeking it out at all. Maybe he could’ve given it to
the police, and they would be able to contact him.

But all of it was very… impersonal. And Sirius felt like they had a moment there. Maybe it wasn’t
a coincidence that they met like that. That Remus decided to trade jackets with him. Maybe it did
mean something . Sirius doesn’t know what it could be, but he is incredibly curious.

Also, he really wanted to meet Remus again. Why, he couldn’t tell yet. There was just something
about the guy that fascinated him, and maybe they could have a real conversation that way. Laugh
about the absurdity of the situation, for example. That would be the appropriate thing to do, no?

Sirius knew his address now, from his ID. But wouldn’t it be weird to randomly show up at his
doorstep? That would definitely be creepy. He could mail it to him, of course, but that would
exclude the possibility of a chat.

The only other clue Sirius had, was the napkin, and a quick internet search told him that this logo
indeed belonged to a nightclub in Berlin called ‘Wolfsbane’, which explained the wolf. Not too far
away from Sirius’ place too, which was a surprising coincidence. And so, Sirius found himself, on
a freezing Friday night, lining up for it next to sullen-looking university students in tight trousers
and drunken bridal shower participants.

It was a stretch, of course. Remus might have been to this club once and never again. He might
have gotten the napkin from someone else and never stepped a foot into this place. The possibility
of him also being here tonight was almost non-existent.

Sirius was certain that all of this was a gigantic waste of time – he was tired from a long week at
work, and, frankly, too old to go clubbing without a clear reason. Especially alone. He hasn’t done
it in ages, and for good reason.
As his turn comes to go up to the entrance, he briefly hopes that the bouncers will turn him around
as they did with a couple of people in front of him already. He definitely didn’t look like he
belonged in the crowd and didn’t feel like he should be allowed in. But surprisingly, the bouncer
takes one look at him and nods grimly, stepping aside to let him through. Sirius almost asks if he’s
sure about that, but then gathers himself up and walks inside.

The small foyer is dimly lit with purple lights, the walls almost physically shaking from the music
behind them, and the girl behind the counter grins at him as he walks up to pay and hand over his
jacket. She winks salaciously as she stamps his hand with the same logo he’s seen on Remus’
napkin and waves him through to take care of the next people in line.

The club is packed, and Sirius takes a good look from his elevated spot at the entrance – a couple
of steps lead down to the actual floor. It’s not big and fancy, on the contrary, the rectangular dance
floor is almost too small in Sirius’ opinion. There is a tiny stage at end of it where a DJ desk is
residing right now, but the location looks like it could also house some live gigs. People are
dancing enthusiastically, looking like a unanimous mass from above, flashing up in the colourful
lights that pulse to the music.

At least it’s not techno, Sirius thinks. Which is actually a feat in Berlin. It sounds more like some
elaborate remix of a current pop song, and Sirius understands why he has been allowed inside. No
real Berlin cool kid would let themselves be seen in a place like this, and because of that, Sirius’
mood lifts a couple of notches.

How he expected to find Remus here, in the unbelievable case he actually is present today, is
beyond Sirius’ comprehension now. This was a bad idea. He should get a drink.

Feeling a bit out of place still, Sirius follows a group of guys to the side of the dance floor where a
large archway seems to lead to the second half of the club. It’s just as loud there, but not as
crowded. There are small tables with comfortable-looking chairs and sofas lining one wall, and a
long bar on the other side where most people are waiting for their drinks.

Sirius spots an empty barstool and walks over to it hesitantly. Is he breaching some sort of
unspoken Berlin clubbing rule by sitting down just like that? But no one pays him any attention,
and a girl actually moves aside with a kind smile to allow him better access to the seat.

He sits down and looks up at the menu above the bar to decide what he’s going to order. It’s been a
while since he went out to drink. What do people even drink at clubs? Shots? No, Sirius won’t do
shots alone. That’s pathetic.

Loud laughter, heard even above the music, catches his attention, and he looks over to the other
end of the bar to see what the commotion is about. Instantly, his stomach bottoms out and his heart
flies up to his throat at the same time.

There, behind the counter, leaning over to hand a group of guests their drinks, is a very familiar-
looking mop of curls.

Maybe this was a great idea, actually, Sirius corrects himself and can’t help a satisfied smirk.

Remus Lupin is indeed at this club again tonight. Because Remus Lupin is working here. What a
bloody coincidence!

Watching Remus work behind the bar is the most entertainment Sirius has had in months. He looks
absolutely in his element there, mouthing along to the music with a blinding smile, moving in time
with the beat like going through some sort of practised dance performance. He’s wearing a tight
 black t-shirt and white-and-black checked pants that look like chess board made clothing. He looks
good.

The crowd loves him as well. Guests clap and cheer when he throws and catches bottles, or
balances shakers on his arms, or pours multiple shots at once. Everything he does looks so smooth
and effortless that Sirius feels transfixed by his motions, like a moth drawn to a flame.

The absolute highlight comes when a group of girls order their drinks, all talking excitedly over
each other. Sirius watches how Remus leans over to them, head tilted to hear better, and a smile
starts blooming on his lips. He nods and shows them two exaggerated ‘ok’ signs with a wink.

Remus quickly, almost too quick to follow, builds a tower of empty glasses with small shot glasses
on top, and pours the liquor and soda in, making a point of doing it smoothly and to the beat of the
music. Then he motions for the group to take a step back and cracks his knuckles for show, before
pouring a line of liquor from the last glass directly on the wooden countertop.

The girls, probably already knowing what he’s about to do, jump up and down in excitement, and
squeal as he pulls out a lighter from his back pocket. As he does so, his eyes briefly meet Sirius’
and he stills for a second, surprised, before his smile grows wider. He’s definitely smiling at
Sirius now. Without breaking eye contact, he clicks the lighter and swipes his hand over the
counter.

Instantly, a roaring wall of flames shoots up, eating through the liquor and crawling its way to the
drinks, closer and closer, until the drinks are now on fire as well. Remus grins at the cheering
crowd and wipes a towel, completely unbothered, through the flames on the bar, distinguishing
them. With incredible precision, he then tips over the burning shots, one by one, into the bigger
glasses at the bottom of the tower.

The other bartender laughs and claps at his performance. The girls are ecstatic. Sirius feels like,
suddenly, there is not enough oxygen in this room.

On second thought, maybe this was a bad idea. Very bad. Very, very, bad.

Chapter End Notes

Berliner Schnauze - a typical way of interacting with strangers (and sometimes friends
too) that native Berliners have that is based on quite rude remarks and/or a mocking
attitude, which is not meant in an unfriendly way
 Adrenaline sunsets
Chapter Notes

I will include all explanations and translations of everything German in the notes at the
end of the chapters.

Also, if you are in any way interested in listening to some German music, I will be
including songs at the beginning of some chapters (with translated lyrics). They all fit
the vibe or reflect the topics at hand, so feel free to check them out if you want some
more immersion.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Wir leben immer schneller, feiern zu hart (We live faster and faster, party too hard)

Wir treffen die Freunde und vergessen unsern Tag (Meet friends and forget about our day)

Wollen kein‘ Stress, kein‘ Druck (Don’t want stress, don’t want pressure)

Nehm ’n Zug, noch ‘n Schluck (Take a drag, take another sip)

Vom Gin Tonic, guck in diesen Himmel wie aus Hollywood (Of the gin tonic, look up at that
Hollywood sky)

Rot knallt in das Blau, vergoldet deine Stadt (Red slams into blue, gold plating your city)

Und über uns ziehen lila Wolken in die Nacht (And above us lilac clouds float into the night)

– Marteria, Lila Wolken

Sirius is still not recovered from the mind-blowing hotness that is Remus Lupin playing with fire
(pun not intended), when the reason for his panic walks up to him and leans over the counter with
expectantly lifted eyebrows, a small smile still playing on his lips.

“Err…” Remus lifts his eyebrows even further at his eloquence. “A vodka Red Bull,” Sirius says
quickly and adds, “Please.”

Remus nods and throws a napkin in the air, spinning it so that it lands directly in front of Sirius –
it’s identical to the one Sirius found in his pocket earlier this week. Quickly, Remus scoops a
generous amount of ice into a glass and sets it on the napkin. Looking Sirius straight in the eyes, he
flips an open bottle of vodka through the air, not a single drop of liquor escaping it before he pours
the shot. Sirius can’t tell if this is what he always does or if he’s showing off, but either way, Sirius
is impressed.

With a playful expression, the corners of his lips curling upwards, he picks up a can of Red Bull
and instead of opening it right away, twists the bottom of the can over his open palm before letting
go. The can stays as if glued on, on his open palm, seemingly defying gravity. Sirius feels his
cheeks burn as Remus opens it and pours the soda in Sirius’ drink, still holding the eye contact, the
can still inexplicably staying put on his palm.

Needless to say, Sirius shells out an unnecessary extra amount of money for the tip, as was
probably intended by Remus all along. With bar tricks like that he must be making lots of cash.

It’s way too loud and crowded to have any kind of conversation, so Sirius just nods at him
awkwardly. Remus smiles, his eyes bright and clear behind the large glasses, and Sirius notices that
he has two dimples on his cheeks. It’s such a small detail, lots of people have dimples when they
smile. Hell, even Sirius has a dimple when he smiles. But for some reason, it looks especially
charming on Remus’ face. As if there was even any need for improvement on that front…

For fuck’s sake.

He watches Remus work some more, sipping his drink in solitude. He looks so happy, so carefree,
so confident. He flirts with guests, lets himself be convinced to take shots with groups of
partygoers, allows a girl to take a video of him flipping a full shaker through the air and catching it
behind his head.

Sirius is torn – he can’t decide whether he thinks this guy is cool or just an annoying show-off.
Remus looks like he’s the soul of every party he goes to, everyone loves him. But maybe it’s just
his job, lots of people put on a mask when they are at work. Sirius is not a stranger to that concept.

He debates how to proceed. Remus didn’t say anything to acknowledge that he recognized Sirius as
the one he gave his jacket to, but he did look surprised to see Sirius here tonight. Maybe Sirius
should just slide his wallet over to him and leave, accepting the fact that the conversation he for
some reason looked forward to would never happen in a place like this.

He still hasn’t decided when he spots some familiar faces coming over from the dancefloor. With
an unhealthy amount of curiosity, Sirius watches how the group of girls from the fire performance
earlier returns again, two of them striding purposefully up to the bar. One has a determined look of
someone who drank exactly the right amount to believe that she can conquer the world on her face,
and the other just looks embarrassed.

Remus comes up to them, slinging a towel over his shoulder, and the first girl starts talking
instantly while motioning to the other girl whose face is going visibly red even in the dim lighting
of the club. Remus’ smile freezes and his eyebrows knit together in confusion, probably because he
can’t hear them very well. In a fluid motion, he hauls himself up on the bar to lean even closer to
them, his feet hovering in the air.

Sirius eyes his triceps appreciatively and takes a long sip, chewing some of the crushed ice in
frustration. Why exactly, he does not know.

Remus suddenly laughs and jumps down again, inclining his head and holding up both hands
apologetically. Now both girls try to tell him something, gesticulating wildly, but he just grins at
them and shakes his head. What exactly the girls wanted becomes clear when one of them, the
embarrassed one, grabs a napkin and writes down what must be her number before holding it out to
Remus insistently.

He eyes the girls for a split second, laughs again and reaches out to pluck the napkin out of her
hand with a defeated shrug. Sirius huffs a laugh. Was he just playing hard to get? How many times
do people chat him up every night? Probably dozens.

Sirius’ musings are interrupted by the sight of Remus inconspicuously throwing the napkin in the
bin under the counter while taking another order, the girls out of sight again.
Oh. He really didn’t want her number and just accepted out of politeness. Sirius didn’t even know
Germans did things like that. Well, maybe she wasn’t his type, although she looked quite fit in
Sirius’ opinion. Maybe he has a girlfriend already.

Just as Sirius about accepted the fact that this, whatever his sleep-deprived brain imagined
happening today, would never occur and he should just come to terms with the thought that Remus
Lupin will forever remain a mystery to him, Remus looks over the crowd and waves at someone
urgently. A minute later, a girl with bright purple hair shows up and crawls under the counter
behind the bar, giving Remus a playful slap on the butt.

He grins at her and tells her something quickly. She nods, an indulgent smile spreading on her face,
and walks over to the next guests in line to take their order.

Oh, is Remus leaving? Sirius feels a jolt of disappointment. He looks down at his watch and
blanches – it’s three in the morning. Did he really just spend over two hours watching Remus
behind the bar? If he didn’t think Sirius was a creep before, he definitely thinks so now.

But, to Sirius’ surprise, Remus intentionally catches his eyes and smiles a little as he retrieves a
pack of cigarettes from his trousers and shakes it as a form of invitation. Sirius hesitates a little, but
there is really no way to misconstrue that, so he nods.

Remus just swings open the bar flap, holding it for Sirius to walk under, and leads him through an
inconspicuous, black-painted door behind the counter. Sirius follows him down a narrow hallway;
it’s dimly lit with red lightbulbs and the black walls are vibrating from the muffled beat of the
music.

A big metal door at the end of the hallway leads outside of the club, probably to the backyard, and
Sirius shivers uncontrollably when the harsh wind blows the hair from his heated forehead.

The deafening silence of the yard after the sound-proof door closes with a bang is ripped apart by
the click of Remus’ lighter.

“Hey,” he says around his cigarette and grins at Sirius, offering him the pack.

“Hi,” Sirius return and shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

Remus shrugs and stuffs the cigarettes back into his trousers. The yard is mostly dark, illuminated
only by a small light above the door they just went through, and the smoke Remus breathes out
curls up to it like frosty fog. Sirius watches is wistfully, suddenly not so sure what to say.

“You’re the jacket guy,” Remus states, sounding amused.

Sirius suddenly remembers why he’s here in the first place. “Oh, yes!” He reaches into his jeans
and pulls out Remus’ wallet. “I wanted to give this back to you.”

“Thanks,” Remus says with an easy smile and accepts the wallet as if it’s not a big deal at all. He
doesn’t even check if everything is still in there before pocketing it. “How did you find me? Do we
have the same friends?”

It seems a bit unlikely to Sirius, but it’s Berlin, so what does he know? Maybe this is not at all
uncommon if you lived here long enough and have a large group of acquaintances. None of it
applies to Sirius though.

“No, I don’t think so,” Sirius says. “You had a napkin from this place in your pocket. I thought I’d
try my luck.”
Remus’ hand stills halfway to his lips, and he looks at Sirius with big eyes, a smile slowly growing
on his face. Then he laughs, loud and clear, the sound of it echoing in the deserted yard. “Wow,”
he presses out. “Awesome! That’s something I would have done!”

Sirius smiles hesitantly at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Remus agrees. “Totally. You had no idea if I worked here or not, but you still came. I
would have thought ‘please, universe, if it’s meant to be, let him be here tonight’.”

If it’s meant to be . Sirius swallows dryly, not really sure how he should interpret that. Meant to be,
as in ‘meant to give him his wallet back’ or meant to be in a romantic sense?

“I guess it’s meant to be, after all,” Sirius says boldly and laughs at the way Remus nods eagerly
and hums around the fag.

“I love when this happens,” Remus says happily.

“Do you talk to the universe often?” he asks, amused.

“Oh, all the time,” Remus says seriously. “You should try it. Sometimes it even answers.”

If the universe had a way to speak to people, it would definitely be through someone like Remus,
Sirius thinks. The note Remus carries around in his wallet comes up in his mind again. At this
point, he’s ready to believe that this guy is some sort of modern-day Jesus in beaten-down Vans
and outrageous jackets.

“Did the universe tell you to block your bank cards?” Sirius asks mockingly.

Remus huffs. “No. Why would I do that?”

Oh, God. Sirius had a feeling he would be like this.

“Because I could have robbed you easily,” Sirius explains as if Remus is a child.

“Nah,” Remus says dismissively and waves a hand. “You wouldn’t do that.”

This is absolutely mental. Remus knows literally nothing about Sirius. Nothing that would warrant
this amount of trust, anyway. Someday he will be a victim of a horrible scam, Sirius is sure of it.

“What if I didn’t find you here?” Sirius asks, a bit miffed. Why does it bother him so much,
actually? It’s none of his business.

Remus cocks his head and grins at him. “I expected you to come to my apartment. You had my
address and everything.”

“You expected me?” Sirius asks, his eyebrows shooting up on their own accord.

“Sure,” Remus says with a shrug. “Or I hoped so. How else would I have the chance to talk to you
again?”

Sirius isn’t sure whether the ringing in his ears is from the loud music inside or just a way of his
brain signing off for the night. “Wait, wait, wait,” he blurts out. “You gave me your jacket
knowing that your wallet was in there? Because you wanted to talk to me?”

Remus laughs and nods. “Yes! It worked!”

Somehow, Sirius feels bad for enforcing his delusion. This was a stupid decision and he’s just
rewarding this sort of behaviour.

“Who does something like that?!” Sirius exclaims, absolutely scandalized.

Remus just laughs again, flashing dimples. “I do! No one asks for phone numbers on trains
anymore, that’s weird. This was the only way.”

He’s absolutely crazy.

“You are crazy,” Sirius says earnestly. “Asking for someone’s phone number on a train is a no-go,
but giving them your wallet in the hopes they would seek you out is okay?”

Remus is still grinning at him, completely unbothered by the small life crisis he just induced.
“Would you have given me your number if I asked?”

“Probably not,” Sirius admits.

Remus clicks his tongue and nods. “See. This was the only way.”

They stand in silence for a little while, Remus smoking leisurely, and Sirius trying to process what
the fuck is happening. Remus wanted to talk to him again. Oh, fuck…

“I don’t even know how to react,” Sirius says slowly. “Now I have your jacket. Was it worth it?”

Remus lets out an eager hum as if Sirius reminded him of something. “Oh, yeah, about the jacket.”
He grins sheepishly. “Can I have it back? It was a gift from my sister.”

Sirius eyes him incredulously, debating whether he should refuse just to teach Remus a lesson that
he can’t just do things like that and expect everything to work out. This is not how the world
works. He should’ve learned that by now!

“Yes,” he relents finally. “But I don’t have it on me tonight.”

Remus seems to be elated by that statement and chuckles. “Oh. How sad. Now we have to meet
again.”

Sirius shakes his head in bewilderment and can’t help a smile. “I guess now I have to ask for
your number.”

Instead of offering it to him, Remus just grins his mocking grin. Sirius isn’t sure if he hates it or
loves it. It definitely makes him feel something . “Ask,” he challenges.

“Can I have your number?”

Remus gives him a very slow, very thorough once-over and purses his lips. “I don’t know,” he
drawls. “I don’t even know your name. A number is very personal.”

“You gave me your ID! Bank cards! Health insurance!” Sirius explodes, raising his hands in
agitation. Then he huffs a breath, shrinking under Remus’ amused look, and calming down again.
“It’s Sirius. Sirius Black.”

“Cool name,” Remus remarks and flicks the burned-down fag into the darkness uncaringly. “Give
me your phone.”

Sirius pulls it out with numb fingers, handing it over, and Remus logs in his contact quickly. Sirius
can’t see his eyes, the reflection of the screen covering his glasses, but his face looks somehow
eerie in the harsh light. As he hands the phone back, their fingers brush lightly and Sirius almost
drops his phone on the concrete from surprise. Remus’ fingers are incredibly warm for someone
who was standing outside on a winter night in just a t-shirt.

Their eyes meet while Sirius puts the phone back in his pocket and Remus smiles. “You know, you
can just do it.”

“What?”

Remus tilts his head a little. “You can kiss me.”

Sirius sucks in a shaky breath and reels a bit backward. “Why do you think I want to kiss you?”

“Mhh.” Remus narrows his eyes at him. “Do you always stay away from doing things you want?”

“Why do you think I want to?” Sirius repeats, anger bubbling up in his chest at the audacity.

“How is this working out for you, huh?” Remus asks back, his voice light and friendly. “Does it
feel like you have more control that way?”

Sirius doesn’t even know what to say to that. He feels like someone has punched him in the
stomach. All he can do is stare, with his mouth open, at Remus’ open face and try to remember
how to breathe.

After a while of studying him, Remus nods as if he made some sort of conclusion, and walks back
to the door leading into the club. Sirius is still unable to move when he drops over his shoulder,
“Wer nicht wagt, der nicht gewinnt.”

Sirius’ German is not good enough to understand it and, for some reason, it wakes him up from the
frozen state he ended up in. He launches to the door, but it has already closed behind Remus. It
doesn’t budge when he pulls on it. He locked Sirius out.

“Fuck you, Remus Lupin,” Sirius growls and kicks the metal in frustration. “Fuck you!”

***

On his way back home, Sirius goes through the five stages of grief in rapid succession, all because
of Remus Lupin. He had to go around the whole building to get back in again and pick up his
jacket. For a moment, he thought about walking up to the bar and… What exactly he would have
done, Sirius doesn’t really know. Tell Remus he was a jerk? Punch him in the face? Kiss him? All
of the above, in that exact order?

He didn’t though. He decided to walk home instead of taking public transport, in the hopes that it
would calm him down.

Remus’ words still echo in his brain. You can just do it.

Sirius puffs out an annoyed breath of air. It comes out thick and foggy in the frosty February air
and reminds him of Remus smoking next to him in that yard.

Sirius doesn’t want to kiss Remus. Why would he? They don’t even know each other. He doesn’t
even look that good. Sirius doesn’t even have time for things like that. Sirius isn’t even gay.

Who does he think he is?! Barging into Sirius’ life, pulling off a truly mental stunt like this and
then making Sirius feel small and vulnerable with just a couple of words! With his stupid glasses
and his stupid clothes and his stupid dimples… What right does he have to make assumptions like
that? And then accuse Sirius of being some… uptight control freak.

Maybe Sirius should just forget about all of this. Forget Remus Lupin and his infuriating ways,
delete his phone number, mail him his ridiculous jacket, and make a big leap around that club for
the rest of his life. Then Sirius could just forget all of this happened and pretend like there is no
Remus Lupin, existing somewhere in the same city.

But what would that change?

Sirius kicks a stray bottle cap and watches it roll onto the street and get swallowed by a car driving
by.

Do you always stay away from doing things you want?

The thing is, Remus was not wrong, and this was exactly the reason it made Sirius so emotional.
He was absolutely miserable, his days consisted of waking up, asking himself whether all of this
was really worth it, going through the motions at work, wolfing down a frozen dinner and begging
for sleep to come sooner. Going out tonight was the first thing Sirius did for himself this month.

Does it feel like you have more control that way?

Sirius doesn’t think he has any control over his life, at all. This was the reason for him to move
countries – to be a person of his own. To find out who he really was. But all he ended up doing was
to carefully avoid any possibility of that happening as if scared to see what he would find out about
himself.

Do you always stay away from doing things you want?

No. Yes. Maybe.

He pulls out his phone and unlocks it. It opens up on the last saved contact.

“You fucker,” Sirius mutters and laughs.

He has saved himself with only his first name, probably correctly assuming that he would be the
only Remus in Sirius’ life, and put an emoji after it. A smiley face with an angelic halo.

Maybe Sirius does actually want to kiss him after all.

I want my jacket back as well , Sirius types into the chat.

He doesn’t expect to receive an answer so soon, but just as he unlocks his front door, his phone
buzzes.

(4:07) No

(4:07) I like it

(4:08) I’m wearing it right now :))

Okay, Sirius definitely wants to kiss him.

***

Sirius leans against the cold metal of the bridge railing and looks down on the train tracks. It’s
Sunday afternoon and the sun is already setting, the skyline of Berlin looking like an
impressionistic painting against the slowly dimming clouds.

It’s not even that late and the shops are all closed on Sundays, but Warschauer Brücke is bustling
with activity. It’s a local party spot and all kinds of people gather here to start off a night out. There
are aspiring musicians busking next to the entrance to the train station, groups of students are
milling around, people are laughing and talking loudly – partygoers mixing seamlessly with the
‘normal’ crowd.

Sirius stares down on the train tracks and tries to ignore the chaos. In his brain, mostly, but also on
the street.

“Beautiful, right?” Remus’ voice sounds behind him.

Sirius drags his eyes away from the tracks and looks up at the sky. The clouds really are looking
incredible today, for some reason breaking a perfect two-week streak of muddy grey, and glowing
in all shades of yellow, and red, and orange, in the light of the setting sun.

“I guess,” Sirius mumbles and turns around.

Remus is not looking at the sky. He’s looking straight at Sirius with a small smile. It’s not enough
to show his dimples and Sirius thinks he might have an obsession because he instantly tries to think
of something to say that would elicit their comeback.

He’s wearing a different sweatshirt today – red with yellow stitching on the cuffs and neck, it looks
thick and cosy. Sirius frowns and hurries to hand him over his jacket, the reason for this meeting.

“Did you come without a jacket?” Sirius asks, still frowning. “It’s five degrees outside!”

Remus shrugs and takes it. “It was warm on the train. And I have my jacket now.” He zips it up
and smiles. “Thanks.”

Sirius nods and is at a loss of what to say now. Technically, his deed is done – Remus has his
wallet and jacket back. Now they can go their separate ways.

But in all honesty, Sirius doesn’t want to. What can he do to somehow prolong their acquaintance?

“Come on,” Remus says casually, relieving him of the task. “I want to show you something.”

He grabs Sirius’ wrist and tugs him along, weaving his way effortlessly through the crowd,
steering for the street ahead of the bridge. Sirius just tries to stay afloat, a bit frustrated by the way
Remus manhandles him like they are in some badly written rom-com, and grateful at the same time
because they would have definitely lost each other without it.

“Wait a second,” Remus says as he stops in front of a Späti. “Be right back.”
He lets go of Sirius’ hand and goes inside, already waving at the guy behind the till from outside
the shop as if they’ve known each other forever. Maybe they did. If Remus comes here often, he
might as well be a regular. Sirius isn’t a regular anywhere, except for his nearest grocery shop, and
he doubts it has much to do with the short time he’s been in Berlin.

Remus comes out after some minutes with two beers in his hand and, for some reason, a lollipop.
The kind that colours your tongue when you eat it. What is he, five years old? Sirius raises his
eyebrows at it but doesn’t say anything.

“That way,” Remus says and doesn’t take his hand this time, which definitely does not make
Sirius feel disappointed.

They walk back in the direction they came from, but this time Remus takes a small, almost
unnoticeable set of metal stairs that seem to lead down to the train station under the bridge. Sirius
is a bit confused about where they are going, but all his concentration is aimed at not slipping on
the metal steps. Remus just pounds down them as if he never in his life spent a single second
worrying about falling and splitting his skull.

He probably hasn’t, come to think of it.

The stairs do lead down to the level of the tracks, but not to the platform. They end up across from
it, standing on a narrow patch of dirt under the arch of the bridge. Remus grins at his questioning
look and strides over to some bushes with purpose, before disappearing behind the branches.

What the fuck? Is Sirius going to be murdered in some bush now?

He hurries to catch up, almost poking his eye out with a stubborn branch, and follows Remus to the
other side.

“Huh,” Sirius says, surprised.

Behind the bushes is not some hidden paradise – just a long, narrow ledge made from white stone,
hanging next to the train tracks off the dirt and grass-covered slope. Remus winks at him and is
already sitting on it, letting his legs dangle down and setting the beers next to him.

“Is this even allowed?” Sirius asks hesitantly. They seem to be very close to the tracks, what if a
train comes by? Isn’t it dangerous?

“This is Berlin, Sirius,” Remus says with a laugh and opens the beer bottles expertly on the edge of
the ledge. “If you’re not hurting anyone else, it’s allowed.”

He offers a bottle to Sirius and smiles at him as he sits down with a sigh. This is something Sirius
already gathered from his two months in Berlin – the complete disregard for any rules has been a
real culture shock for him, especially because he didn’t expect that from Germans. It just went
against all stereotypes.

“Berlin,” Sirius muses. “Laws are just suggestions.”

Remus laughs, completely unhinged, and knocks the bottom of his beer bottle against Sirius’.
“Prost."

Sirius looks around as he sips his drink. On one side the sky is now turning from yellow and
orange into a deep pink, the edges already glowing purple with the beginning of the night. He can
see all the little flickers of lights in the windows of the skyscrapers against it, and the Fernsehturm
pokes through the clouds like an enormous spear. On the other side, above them, music and chatter
sound faintly from the bridge – a bit stronger when the wind blows just right.

“Where are you from?” Remus asks.

“London.”

“Ah.” Remus nods. “Red busses. Big Ben. Buckingham Palace.”

The way Remus butchers ‘Buckingham Palace’ with his adorable accent makes Sirius laugh.
“Yes.” He returns Remus’ grin. “Have you been?”

“Once on a school trip,” Remus says pensively. “But it was ten years ago. I don’t remember much.
I only remember we were very interested in running away from our teachers and getting drunk.”

Sirius huffs a laugh and salutes with his beer. “Maybe that’s why you don’t remember.”

Remus just laughs in agreement. “What are you doing in Berlin, London boy?”

Hearing him say ‘London boy’ makes Sirius' stomach swoop and he draws a shaky breath. “What
everyone else does in Berlin, I suppose. Seeking my fortune.”

“Have you found it?” Remus asks curiously.

“Not yet,” Sirius admits, his eyebrows knitting together into the beginning of a frown.

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong direction,” Remus suggests easily.

“Perhaps,” Sirius says darkly.

Remus hums and busies himself with unwrapping his lollipop. Sirius watches him in amusement.

“How do you like Berlin so far?” He pops the candy in his mouth, his cheek bulging comically,
and grins around it. “Good?”

“I don’t know…” Sirius sighs. “I’ve only been here two months. Probably too early to tell.”

Remus nods. “Berlin is like that. You either love it or hate it,” he says, his words a bit muffled by
the candy. “Give it some time.”

Sirius smiles at his tone. “Do you love it or hate it?”

“This,” Remus says earnestly and opens his arms wide as if trying to hug the city in front of them,
“is my home. It’s everything I have.”

It’s not really an answer to Sirius’ question. London was his home for all of his life and Sirius can’t
imagine a worse place to be right now, but he doesn’t pry further. Instead, he watches with morbid
fascination how Remus takes out the lolly to take a sip of his beer.

“Doesn’t it taste like shit?” Sirius asks, appalled by the combination.

Remus finishes his sip and grimaces with a nod. “It’s disgusting,” he agrees and laughs, popping
the candy back in his mouth. Sirius catches a sliver of his unnaturally red tongue, already dyed
from the lolly.

“Why do you do it then?” Sirius shakes his head. “Why did you even get it?”
 “Why not?” Remus asks back and tilts his head with a smile. Then he takes the lolly out again and
offers it to Sirius. “Wanna try?”

Sirius scrunches up his nose. “No, ew, that’s revolting.”

Remus grins at him. “Because it was in my mouth or because it’s a sweet?”

“Because I’m a grown man,” Sirius says acerbically and eyes his still outstretched hand
suspiciously. Remus’ saliva all over it is the least disgusting part about this.

“Who told you grown men can’t have fun?” Remus asks conspiratorially.

“This is your idea of fun?”

Remus throws his head back and laughs. He looks absolutely stunning this way. His curls are
practically glowing in the red shine of the setting sun, and his white teeth glisten wetly. Sirius just
watches him, unable to look away from the sharp profile of his Adam’s apple.

“It all is!”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Everything,” Remus explains and chuckles. “Everything I do. It’s fun.”

Nothing has ever been such a foreign concept for Sirius as doing everything just for fun. But he
can’t help but believe Remus instantly. He does make an impression of someone who is completely
in tune with himself, enjoying every moment of his life to the fullest, doing crazy things on a whim
just because a fancy strikes him.

As if to underline his statement, a rumble goes through the tracks and a train peeks out from under
the bridge, right on the track that is closest to where they are sitting. Remus looks at him, a huge
smile on his face, and quickly puts the candy back in his mouth before grabbing Sirius’ hand just
in time as the train rushes past them.

It honestly feels frightening – they are not even a meter away from the carriages, and the wind
current blows harshly in Sirius’ face as the train drives past at full speed. His heart stutters and
launches into a gallop, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears indistinguishable from the
rattling of the tracks. Sirius clutches Remus’ hand in his and looks over at him.

He is laughing again, eyes wide open and staring at the sky. His hair is beating wildly around his
face, and he raises his hands, one tugging Sirius’ along, as if he’s hurtling down the slope of a
rollercoaster.

The train rushes past, plunging them into almost deafening silence again, and Remus looks over to
Sirius. His eyes are glowing brightly behind his glasses and he’s breathing just as hard and fast as
Sirius.

“So fun!” he says and laughs again, his hand still holding Sirius’ firmly.

Looking back, Sirius will determine without a sliver of a doubt, that this was the exact moment he
stopped existing and started living again.

Chapter End Notes

Wer nicht wagt, der nicht gewinnt – the German equivalent of ‚nothing ventured,
nothing gained’

Späti – short for Spätkauf, basically a 24/7 convenience store (which is huge since
shops are closed on Sundays in Germany), selling mostly drinks and some food. It’s a
big part of the Berlin culture; these shops are everywhere and mostly owned by locals
and not by large chains. Sometimes they have some seating options outside so that
people can drink and hang out there.

Prost – Cheers

Fernsehturm – the Berlin television tower, probably the most widely known landmark
in Berlin
 Get in, loser, we’re going shopping!
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Sonnenbrille an (Sunglasses on)

Fahr durch meine Stadt (Drive through my city)

Ich geb kein’ Fick, 200 km/h (I don’t give a fuck, 200 km/h)

Für alles, was ich sag (For everything I say)

Alles, was ich mach (Everything I do)

Kann ich später mal nicht bar bezahlen (I won’t be able to pay in cash later)

– Apache 207, 200 km/h

Sirius has been a happy child once. Not because but despite his circumstances.

Superficially, everything was great. A full family – a mother, a father, still married, a younger
brother. A nice house, right in the middle of London. Financial stability most people could only
ever dream of. A nanny, a maid, a cook – all there since he can remember himself.

He got everything he wanted. Clothes, toys, nick-nacks; anything he laid his eyes on was instantly
in his awaiting hands. Then Sirius was old enough to go to primary school and started having
contact with other children. And then he slowly understood what was missing.

It was simply love.

When other children would be dropped and picked up by their parents, smiling and hugging them,
asking about their day and how they felt, Sirius and Regulus were collected by a personal
chauffeur.

When other children would tell the class about how they spent their summer, Sirius would sit at the
back of the room and pray that he wouldn’t be called on. Because there were no fun birthday
parties, or family holidays, or similarly happy memories. Just a big, cold, empty townhouse filled
with things that were ‘only watch, never touch’, and parents that didn’t care about their children
beyond them looking presentable at dinner parties.

When other children would dream of becoming vets, or astronauts, or builders, the pinnacle of
Sirius’ and Regulus’ freedom of decision was to choose between becoming doctors or lawyers.

After primary school, their parents sent them to a boarding school as soon as they could – out of
sight, out of mind for nine out of twelve months a year. It was for the better, surprisingly, because
there Sirius found real friends. It didn’t matter who your parents were or how much money you had
– everyone was well off there, almost no one had a great home life, and it was okay.

Sirius could forget about his strained relationship with his parents for most of the time as it only
got worse and worse over the years. He felt their lack of love stronger and stronger, and they had
less and less understanding for his teen angst.
Regulus was way better at managing their expectations and conforming to their regime. Back then,
Sirius thought he was a coward, mommy’s little boy, an arselicker. Now he knows that Regulus
was just smarter – he quickly caught onto the rules and played by them, while doing his own thing
when no one was looking.

Sirius was all grand gestures and reckless bravado. Regulus was all fake smiles and hard eyes.

The end of his school education promised a way out. Finally, Sirius was old enough to make his
own decisions. He would tell his parents to fuck off, he would study Art, he would marry his
school sweetheart, and everything would be grand.

Now, ten years later, Sirius looks back at himself and can’t believe how naïve he was. It’s like he
was a completely different person. If Sirius would meet himself at eighteen right now, he would
probably laugh in his face. How did he underestimate the power his parents had over him so much?

Now, ten years later, Sirius really was old enough to make his own decisions, but it was a burden
and not freedom. He did tell his parents to fuck off, it just didn’t help much – it takes two to tango,
after all. He studied Finance and Marketing, the biggest compromise his parents were willing to
make. He broke up with his school sweetheart. And then with his university sweetheart. And then
some. Nothing felt right. The girls were all fine, it wasn’t their fault, it was Sirius’.

Now, ten years later, nothing was grand.

His whole life was just a string of decisions someone else made for him, and he was the idiot who
let them. His personal life was a nauseating ride from one girl to the next, on a search for the love
he’s never gotten as a child, all in vain. His friends from school slowly distanced themselves from
him – not even ill-willing, just because that’s how life is. His friends from uni went on to become
just as boring, lifeless, and prematurely ageing and he did.

Sirius turned twenty-eight in November.

He woke up that day, looked over at another girl he’s been dating for the past year, and felt ab-so-
lu-te-ly nothing . She was pretty, she was smart, she liked to ski and cooked the best Paella Sirius
ever tried, she had a five-year plan, she was even willing to peg him every once in a while.

He laid there, freshly twenty-eight, allegedly deeply in love and on a path of building his own
family, and for the life of him couldn’t remember her last name.

Something had to change.

Then he ate the birthday breakfast she made for him, dancing happily and carefree at the stove in
one of his office shirts, probably already picking out a wedding dress in her mind, and got a spam-
masked-as-newsletter email from some tourism company.

Let us show you the world! London, Berlin, Paris, Milan for only £199!

And only God knows what switch finally flipped in his foggy brain.

Yes, Sirius thought, exactly in that order.

One week later, he quit his more than well-paying job, his more than well-looking relationship,
and sent an application to the first company listing he found online. He didn’t even care what it
was. As long as it was Berlin. And then maybe Paris. And then Milan. Until he would finally
figure out what the hell he was supposed to be doing on this godforsaken Earth.

***

(12:45) Hi, when are you done with work?

(12:56) Hey, Remus. Around six, I think. Why?

(12:57) Okay :) Send location

(13:01) Why?

(14:39) …Fine

(18:09) Get in, loser, we’re going shopping!

***

Sirius has to physically bite down on his lips to not show the insistent smile that has been glued to
them since lunch. It’s Thursday now, almost four days since he last met Remus and spent a
freezing but somehow charming evening on the train tracks with him.

They separated as the sky got completely dark, Remus laughing contagiously all the while Sirius
tried not to die via fall from slippery stairs in complete darkness. He just said thank you for the
jacket once more and gave Sirius a last blinding smile before hopping on a train and disappearing.

Sirius spent the next days going over all of their interactions meticulously. He didn’t even know
what he was searching for, it just seemed important. Remus Lupin was an enigma to him.

He was spontaneous and reckless. He was cheery and carefree. He was observant and blunt to the
point of being rude. He was curious and easygoing. He was confident and relaxed.

How did a person like this even exist?!

What… How… Huh? Sirius’ brain just refused to understand him. It was like every time Remus
opened his mouth, he said the last thing you would expect to hear. He functioned on a completely
different wavelength.
Sirius couldn’t get him out of his mind.

With something akin to genuine excitement, Sirius steps out of the office building and looks
around. A loud honk makes him wince a little and he walks over to the car hesitantly. Maybe the
honk wasn’t for him?

Then his doubts are swept away because this car is from a well-known car-sharing service in
Berlin. And it’s a convertible. Sirius stares at it in bewilderment as the roof slowly sinks down and
folds itself up, revealing a mop of blond curls and huge, absolutely, outrageously ridiculous
sunglasses. They have thick, white plastic rims in a cat-eye design and look like something from a
children’s costume party. Remus wiggles his eyebrows, clearly enjoying his dramatic appearance
and waves a hand.

“Your ride is here!”

Sirius walks closer and shakes his head. Unfortunately, due to the whole car performance, he
completely forgot to keep his face in check and was now sporting the biggest grin of his life.

“What the fuck is that?” Sirius asks because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Remus just laughs and honks again twice, making some people on the other side of the street glare
at him. “Stop asking so many questions!” Remus yells and then waves mockingly at the outraged
pedestrians, completely unbothered.

Sirius groans inwardly, feeling like the last remnants of his sanity have excused themselves for
tonight, and gets in the ridiculous car, skipping the door altogether. Remus tilts his head forward
and slides his stupid sunglasses down his nose to regard Sirius with an assessing look above them,
a surprised smile tugging on his lips.

“Did you just jump in?” he asks, excited.

“I can have a nonsensical entrance as well,” Sirius shoots back. “What point does a convertible car
have if you don’t jump in like in some film?”

Remus throws his head back with laughter and starts the engine. “Mein Gott!” he exclaims in
German. “He finally gets it!”

“By the way, did you quote Mean Girls to me earlier?” Sirius asks when he pulls out of the parking
spot. Somehow this is a more important question than where they are going.

“Hell yeah, fucking love Lindsey Lohan,” Remus says enthusiastically.

Sirius snorts. “Who loves Lindsey Lohan?!”

“Boo, you whore!” Remus quotes again and cackles.

“Stop it.” Sirius tries to hide his laughter behind his hands. “You’re crazy, absolutely crazy. Where
are we going?”

Remus sighs theatrically. “ Why? What is this? Where are we going? ” he parrots Sirius mockingly.
“You need to chill for once. We’re going shopping.”

Sirius scoffs, offended by being called uptight again. How dare he?
“Why do you need a car to go shopping?” Sirius asks then. Because there is literally no reason for
it – Berlin’s public transport is amazing, the whole city is a nightmare when it comes to parking
spaces, and driving to the shopping spots is more hassle than it’s worth.

“Notice how I didn’t say we’re going shopping in Berlin,” Remus mentions casually as if having a
sixth sense for Sirius’ thoughts.

Sirius gapes at him and blinks a couple of times. “Remus, what the fuck?!”

He just laughs, delighted by Sirius’ reaction. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that,” he says then. “It’s
not far. I wanted to go to this outlet, it’s just outside of the city.”

With a huff, Sirius slumps in his seat and shakes his head. This guy… he will be the end of him
one day.

“Is this my jacket?” Sirius asks after a while when they inevitably get stuck in rush hour traffic.
The roof of the car is still down, and the early March wind is blowing unkindly in their faces. Who
rents a convertible in fucking March in Berlin?

“No,” Remus says slyly. “It’s mine.”

Sirius glares at him, but he can feel the corners of his lips twitch uncontrollably. Remus is really
wearing Sirius’ most favourite leather jacket, and he could bet that it wasn’t a coincidence. He
looks good in it though, the black leather making a striking contrast to his light hair and the bright
orange hoodie he’s wearing underneath.

“Don’t worry,” he adds. “That’s why we’re going shopping. I’ll get you a new jacket.”

Sirius doesn’t need a new jacket. He has a jacket. His most favourite leather jacket. Or he had,
before. Now it was being held hostage by this ridiculous guy and he can’t muster up enough
annoyance to actually do anything about it.

“Okay,” he relents. “You wanted to go shopping with me to get me a new jacket?”

“Yep,” Remus confirms easily and smiles. “And maybe other things too. You have a horrible sense
of style.”

“Fuck off!” Sirius cries desperately and raises his hands in silent prayer. “I have bad style? Your
closet consists of things that induce eye cancer and stolen goods!”

Remus clicks his tongue and nods as if Sirius just complimented him. What a giant wanker.

“Do you even have a license?” Sirius asks incredulously. There was no license in his wallet when
Sirius went through it, after all.

Remus grins and expertly manoeuvres through the packed road, obviously showing off. “Nope,” he
says contently.

Sirius eyes him in absolute bewilderment. Is he for real?! Because it doesn’t look like it from the
way he’s driving, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. He wouldn’t put anything past Remus at
this point.

“It’s a joke,” Remus says then and laughs. “Wow, you should have seen your face. You don’t trust
me?”
“Not at all,” Sirius grumbles, accompanied by Remus’ delighted laugh. “You’re absolutely mental.
I am afraid for my life.”

“Don’t worry,” Remus says seriously, his laughter dying off abruptly. “I am a very trustworthy
person.”

Yeah, Sirius thinks sarcastically, that’s exactly what a trustworthy person would say.

It takes them almost a full hour to make it out of the city, and Sirius has resigned himself to the
whirlwind that is Remus Lupin at some point during that drive. He seemed to be in a great mood,
as he probably always was, and was making an absolute ass of himself by playing music at a
deafening volume and singing to it unashamedly. And, because the roof of the car was still down,
the whole fucking street was part of that embarrassment.

“I hate you,” Sirius groaned when they were standing at a red light and the car next to them
actually lowered their windows to glare at them.

Remus just shot the unamused driver a finger-gun, the plastic sunglasses adorning his head now
(Sirius insisted that Remus didn’t actually wear them while driving when it was already dark
outside), and grinned at Sirius. “No, you don’t,” he said, very sure of himself.

Sirius didn’t, really. But some part of him suddenly wanted to, just to prove Remus wrong.

The traffic gets bearable when they make it on the Autobahn. The cold wind doesn’t. Who drives a
car with the roof down on an Autobahn?!

Remus Lupin, apparently. Because he grabs the steering wheel firmly with both hands and gives
Sirius the most adorable smile, all white teeth and cheeky dimples. “Having fun yet?” he yells over
the music and the wind.

Sirius tries to give him the deadliest death glare he can muster through watering eyes, which must
have come off as encouragement. Because Remus laughs, steers on the fastest lane on the left and
steps on the gas with full force.

The car roars up like a wounded lion and shoots forward, pressing Sirius so far into the seat that he
thinks he might have felt something crack in his back. He grabs the handle of the door and chokes,
his heart jumping up to his throat and the wind rushing with a nauseating whistle in his ear.

Next to him, Remus is laughing, completely unhinged, eyes trained on the empty lane in front of
them. When Sirius dares to look at the speedometer, it shows 210 km/h.

“What about now?” Remus shouts but, thankfully, doesn’t look over. Which would be a fucking
death sentence to both of them. Germans and the lack of speed limits on their Autobahns, they are
all absolutely bonkers.

“Remus!” Sirius shouts back. “If we die, I will kill you!”

“Not until you’re having fun!”

Sirius, despite the circumstances, doubles down in hysteric laughter. He can feel his eyes water and
he doesn’t know if it’s from the wind or if he’s actually crying right now. It’s like something in his
brain has snapped, an old, creaky twig, and whirled up a cloud of dust. He feels his chest flood
with emotions so strong that he almost wonders whether this is just due to the adrenaline pumping
through his body, or this is what other people actually feel emotions as.
The feelings come, like brief flashes, and are carried away by the harsh, cold wind in his face.
Fear, grief, anger, anticipation, excitement, fun. Fun!

“Remus, I’m scared to say I have fun!” Sirius shouts and laughs at himself. “I don’t want to die!”

Remus whoops, loud and long, and laughs again. “Good!” he yells. “Good, Sirius!”

Sirius doesn’t know what exactly he means by that, but he slowly releases the gas, dropping down
to a more comfortable driving speed. With shaking hands, Sirius wipes his cheeks and slumps in
his seat. His heart rate slowing down, together with the car, to something more in line with general
safety for his health.

“Fucking hell,” Sirius breathes, his words swallowed by the music and wind. “What are you doing
to me…”

***

It’s properly night-time when they drive back into Berlin, the lights of the city burning bright and
strong before them. Sirius tilts his head where he’s pressed it against the glass of the window and
looks out into the sea of traffic around them. He feels like floating and if the car roof wasn’t closed
right now, he is sure he would just ascend into the dark sky like a helium-filled balloon.

Remus did actually take him to this outlet. It was built like a small village rather than a mall, all
cute, small houses and old street lamps. When they arrived, Sirius felt absolutely exhausted and
incredibly giddy at the same time – cheeks flushed and burning from the wind, eyes glistening
maniacally. When he caught his reflection in one of the shop windows, he almost didn’t recognize
himself.

He looked alive.

He felt more alive too.

Remus was just as he always was – easy going and cheerful. He dragged Sirius along and into
various shops, shoving stuff at him like some warped version of a personal stylist. Sirius was so
dazed that he didn’t even argue and just went with the flow, trying on clothes Remus picked out
and even going so far as buying some of them.

They did end up getting Sirius a new jacket. It was warm and comfortable. Remus, of course, voted
for the yellow version. Sirius got the black one because it was all fun and games, but he refused to
walk around like a yellow highlighter, much to Remus’ disappointment.

“My paradise!” Remus exclaimed, opening the double doors to the Lindt shop with a flourish and
striding in. Sirius followed behind him, a deranged smile tugging on his lips, as he watched Remus
go absolutely nuts like a child in a sweets shop. He was a child in a sweets shop, actually. It was
endearing.

“If you could have one meal right now,” Remus asked after a while, eyes glowing with mischief,
“no matter what, what would it be?”

Sirius hesitated and frantically searched his brain for anything, anything at all. “I don’t know?” he
said, feeling lost.
Remus gave him A Look. “When was the last time you had an appetite?”

“I eat fine,” Sirius mumbled, annoyed. He wasn’t some child who needed to be taken care of.

“No, that’s not what I’m asking.” Remus shook his head and raised his eyebrows. “When was the
last time you ate for pleasure and not for fuel?”

Sirius huffed in annoyance. “Do you want a specific date or what?”

Remus smiled at him. “No, but could you name one?”

“No,” Sirius admitted, feeling suddenly ashamed. “What does it matter to you?”

“It should matter to you ,” Remus urged and grinned. “You know what I want? Pizza. You can
never go wrong with pizza. Pizza is queen of the food chain!”

Sirius shook his head and couldn’t help but smile back. “That’s not how the food chain works,” he
remarked. “Yeah, pizza sounds good.”

They did end up getting pizza. Remus enjoyed it. Sirius enjoyed it too, however reluctantly. The
smile on Remus’ face when Sirius finished his food was almost worth it.

“Sirius?”

“Huh?” Sirius detaches from the car window and looks over at Remus. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“What do you do for work?” he asks, not for the first time, apparently.

Sirius huffs a laugh. “I am a Marketing Director for a start-up.”

Remus smiles, glancing over at Sirius. “That’s so Berlin,” he drawls in a high-pitched voice,
obviously parroting someone. Maybe it’s a reference Sirius doesn’t get.

“It is, isn’t it?” Sirius agrees and shakes his head. “I am the ultimate stereotype.”

“Is it a tech start-up?” Remus asks, amused.

“Sort of,” Sirius says and grimaces. “It’s like a cloud service for administrative processes of other
companies.”

“You don’t sound very convinced,” Remus remarks and grins. “Shouldn’t you be their biggest fan
as a Marketing Director?”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “They should be grateful I show up at all. I am criminally underpaid for the
education and work experience I bring to the table.”

“Why work for them at all?” Remus asks curiously. “Didn’t you move here for that job?”

“Not really,” Sirius admits. “It was more of a means to an end. I didn’t really care who to work for,
I just wanted to get out of London quickly.”

Remus hums pensively. “And how is it to run from a shitty past and end up spending half of your
life at a company you don’t want to work for?”
Sirius scoffs and glares at his calm profile. “Are you trying to get a rise out of me?”

“Sorry?” Remus asks, lifting his eyebrows.

“Do you want to make me angry?” Sirius rephrases.

“Oh.” Remus smiles. “Not at all. I want to understand you. You make zero sense to me.”

“Excuse me?” Sirius actually laughs at the absurdity of that statement. “It’s you who makes no
sense! I wonder if you’re even real or I’ve imagined you.”

“Do you often have trouble believing that people with other ways of thinking exist?” Remus asks
kindly.

“No,” Sirius retorts sharply, “just that someone like you exists.”

“It’s very simple, Sirius,” Remus replies, not offended in the slightest. “You and I are not that
different. You just lack one thing that I have.”

“And that would be?”

“Honesty,” Remus supplies with a smile. “If you stop lying to yourself, you’ll feel better.”

Sirius, not for the first time since meeting Remus, feels like the air has been punched out of his
lungs. He doesn’t know how it always ends up like this – a seemingly innocent small-talk topic
turns into some sort of soul-searching when Remus is around.

He desperately wishes to rewind the time and make sure this conversation doesn’t happen, or at
least gloss over it and chat about something irrelevant. The weather, Instagram’s new features, the
late-night cooking show everyone is raving about nowadays. Anything, literally anything.

Remus seems to feel his struggle and doesn’t do a single thing to relieve him, apparently
unbothered by the prospect of spending the rest of the ride in silence. Because Sirius feels like he
ought to answer something earnest to his observation, which he absolutely cannot do right now.
But pretending like nothing happened doesn’t feel right either.

When he sees familiar buildings through the front window, he exhales in relief and points to a
house. “That’s me.”

Remus glances over at him with a confused expression. “Huh?”

Sirius hums. “Ah, it’s… This is where I live. That’s me.”

“No, it’s not,” Remus says sceptically.

Sirius can’t help a small laugh. “It’s a… figure of speech. It means that this is my house.”

Remus makes a weird noise at the back of his throat and pulls over next to Sirius’ building. “No, I
get it,” he says. “The way we speak is important, you know?” He fixes Sirius with his impossibly
bright eyes. “This is not you, it’s just an apartment. The place you work at is just that, not you. If
you continue associating your identity with your home or your work, it will slowly reduce down to
it.”

Sirius feels rooted to the seat by his words. They strike some chord in him, deep inside. He doesn’t
know which one, can’t figure it out on the spot. But it’s important, he can sense it.
“It is a bit of me though,” he argues. “I spend almost all of my time either at my work or at my flat.
It is me.”

Remus looks at him with a weird expression, no trace of his usual grin to be found. “Are you your
work and home because you spend all of your time there or do you spend all of your time there
because you think this is all you are?”

Sirius gapes at him, completely at loss for words.

This guy… Unbelievable. It’s as if he took one look at Sirius and poked a blunt finger right in the
middle of his aching, bleeding, weeping little identity crisis. What sort of magic was at works
here?

“Who are you, Remus Lupin?” he breathes.

Remus grins slowly. “Who are you , Sirius Black?”

Something unidentifiable passes between them, like an almost tangible spark, and for a second,
Sirius has the feeling that Remus will kiss him. He even feels his lips part, blood rushing in his ears
like a waterfall.

But Remus just quirks an eyebrow and sinks back in his seat. “See ya, Sirius.”

All the way out of the car, to his building and up the stairs to his flat, Sirius hears Remus’ deep
voice resonating in his head.

“Who are you, Sirius Black?” he repeats, dazed, as the door closes behind him.

He looks around his flat as if seeing it for the first time. It doesn’t look like someone is living
here.

It’s quite spacious by Berlin’s standards, even though it’s a studio. In a well-off neighbourhood,
although Sirius would struggle to name why it is a good place to live. All he knows is the grocery
shop two streets down and the train station he commutes to work from.

His bed is neatly made, tucked in a corner under a window. A couch stands opposite of it,
completely bare. Sirius ordered it from some fancy online shop a colleague has recommended but
he struggles to remember when he last sat on it. To the side of the entrance is a closet, full of dress
shirts and trousers. On the other side of the room, next to the kitchen door, is a moderately-sized
dining table with four chairs, for whom though, Sirius doesn’t know.

The kitchen is small but functional – it already came with the place, which was one of the things he
favoured about the flat. It’s stocked with only the essentials. The other door from the hallway leads
into a bathroom, newly renovated, with a tub and a separate shower. The only thing indicating that
someone uses it is a lonely toothbrush and a couple of shampoo and shower gel bottles in the
shower.

It looks like an apartment hotel.

If Sirius really was his job and flat, he was a very empty person.

Who are you, Sirius Black?

“I don’t know,” he says, his own voice sounding strange somehow.

 Then find out.

Chapter End Notes

Mein Gott - My God

Autobahn - motorway/freeway

I'm dying to hear what you think so far :)

 Tequila with a side of existential crisis
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Falls ich mal kein Geld mehr hab', was ich mir gut vorstellen kann (If I ever run out of money,
which I can well imagine)

Fang ich an beim Ordnungsamt, hinder euch am Porsche fahren (I'll start at the public order office,
stop you from driving a Porsche)

Mein Portemonnaie lässt die Korken knallen (My wallet's gonna pop the corks)

Los, mach es leer und schmeiß es in den Dreck! (Go on, empty it out and throw it in the dirt!)

Das Geld mus weg (The money has to go)

Das ganze Geld muss weg (All the money has to go)

– Marteria, Das Geld muss weg

Sirius spends a lot of time thinking over the next few days. It’s like all his carefully constructed
walls have evaporated as soon as Remus stepped into his life, took a look around, and grinned his
dimpled grin, saying ‘what if I ruined you?’.

Because this is exactly what he did to Sirius.

Sirius feels an enormous amount of resentment towards him, despite the fact that he jumpstarted
the exact process Sirius strived for when moving countries. He just didn’t expect it to hurt so
badly.

Remus was right about a lot of things. Sirius really did lie to himself regularly.

About his career choices, about his attitude, about his free time, about his love life.

Sirius was a law-abiding, respectable citizen with a prestigious degree from Oxford. Sirius was a
successful marketing professional. Sirius was reliable, and trustworthy, and composed. Sirius was
doing what he always wanted to do. Sirius had a fulfilling personal life. Sirius was straight, yes,
definitely straight.

Or was he?

Because he never felt more alive than while sitting in front of train tracks, in a place he definitely
wasn’t supposed to be. Because he hated his profession, and job, and everything that led up to it.
Because Sirius was barely functioning, an empty shell of a human, going through the motions just
to stay alive, always slightly on the brink of a mental breakdown. Because Sirius had no friends, no
lovers, no family connections. Because he thought Remus Lupin was the hottest person he
probably ever met in his life. Not in an underwear model kind of way, more in an ‘I will fuck your
brain and then I will fuck you’ kind of way.

His whole life was a giant fucking lie.

And Remus saw him, probably even the very first time they’ve met, and instantly recognized him
as an imposter. And… What?

Decided he would very much like to get to know him better?

Sirius wasn’t even sure there was anything to get to know about him at this point.

Basically, allowed Sirius to kiss him?

Sirius wasn’t even sure he liked guys in that way. He has never been with a bloke before. Well,
except for that one awkward blowjob he got in the lacrosse changing rooms at uni from Zac
Heather.

Thought that he would find nothing better to do with his evening than to spend it drinking bottled
beer next to a sullen Sirius?

Sirius wasn’t even sure what compelled him to do so. Remus was so vibrant, so full of life, so
unhinged and cheerful. What was he doing spending his time with someone like Sirius? What was
in it for him?

Figured that if he stole Sirius’ jacket, he should make sure Sirius got a new one?

Sirius wasn’t even sure that this was the reason for that impromptu shopping trip. Nothing Remus
did makes sense to him. He was like a force of nature, incredibly dangerous and utterly aimless.

Or was it Sirius who was aimless here?

He gets ripped out of his exhausting thoughts by something banging on his window.

Sirius looks up from his teacup and squints at the darkness behind it. There is nothing, just the
dark, cloudy sky. Maybe a bird dropped something?

Bang.

There it is again. Sirius frowns and gets up from his seat to look outside. The wet air makes him
shiver a little when he opens the window – it’s been raining all week, which was quite on-brand for
Berlin. In some ways, it was even worse than London.

“Hello!”

Sirius represses the urge to rub his eyes. Because there, underneath his window, Remus is standing
on the pavement and tossing a small pebble in his hand. He’s wearing the ridiculous colour-block-
design jacket again, paired with washed-out jeans, and his face glows with his trademark grin.

He hasn’t seen him in over a week, not since that time he picked Sirius up from work in his
outrageous rented car.

“Remus?” Sirius shakes his head and frowns. “What the fuck?”

“Come out and play!” Remus yells happily and pretends to throw the pebble in his hand at Sirius,
just to drop it with a laugh. Like a ten-year-old kid and not a twenty-seven-year-old man.

“Have you really been throwing pebbles at my window?” Sirius asks, not quite believing it yet. “I
have a buzzer. I have a phone!”
Remus scrunches up his nose adorably. “Boring,” he whines. “This is way more fun! And I wanted
to see if I can throw that far.”

“You’ve established that you can,” Sirius states and shakes his head, unable to hide a smile.

“Yesss,” Remus says and shakes his fist victoriously. “Success! Now shut up and come down.”

“Ridiculous,” Sirius murmurs to himself as he closes the window and walks into the hallway to put
on his new jacket and some shoes. “Utterly ridiculous. A fucking joke of a human!”

His heart, apparently, doesn’t think that way. It’s beating faster and clenching almost sweetly at the
thought that Remus Lupin showed up randomly at his house and threw pebbles at his window
like in some American coming-of-age film to take him to God-knows-where again.

“I am the joke,” Sirius mutters darkly, descending the stairs. “Absolutely laughable.”

When Sirius emerges from the building, Remus is still standing where he was before. He smiles
brightly at Sirius. “It’s Sneak Preview time,” he announces.

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “What time is it?”

“Sneak Preview,” Remus repeats and turns to walk down the street in the direction of the train
station. “Come on, we’re going to be late!”

It takes Sirius a moment to catch up with him. This is going to be the way it is for the rest of time.
Remus hurtling through life like there’s fire under his arse, and Sirius, completely confused, trying
to keep up with him. Maybe it’s for the better if he stops questioning it and just lets himself be
dragged along.

“What is Sneak Preview?” Sirius asks.

Remus hums eagerly. “It’s a cinema event,” he explains. “One night a week they show a new
movie that hasn’t started yet, but you don’t know what movie it will be.

Oh. Sirius blinks a couple of times, his lips curling up tentatively. Remus wants to go to the cinema
with him.

“Why would I want to watch a film I don’t know anything about?” Sirius asks, amused. It’s a very
Remus thing to do, actually.

Remus pushes the ‘open’ button on the train doors and lets Sirius walk in first. The train is bustling
with nervous energy that is common on weekend evenings in Berlin. It’s still way too early for the
party crowds, but there is a certain anticipation in the air that even Sirius can feel.

“It’s fun,” Remus says predictably. “No one has seen it before, and it’s a surprise. What’s not to
like?”

“What if the film is bad?” Sirius prods further. Not because he doesn’t want to go, just because he
is curious to find out how Remus’ brain works.

“That’s the risk,” Remus agrees easily and grins at him. He leans against the glass divider between
the entrance and the booth behind it and looks down his nose at Sirius. “Wer nicht wagt, der nicht
gewinnt.”

That’s the thing he said to Sirius that one time at the club!
“What does it mean?” Sirius asks, feeling like he’s about to uncover a clue that has been missing
all along.

Remus laughs. “It means, if you don’t dare anything, you won’t ever win.”

“Oh.” Sirius has the urge to slap his forehead. But of course. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained?”

“I guess?” Remus shrugs a little. “It’s a… how did you say it? Figure of speech.”

“Proverb,” Sirius corrects him and grins. “No risk, no fun?”

Remus looks at him then, his eyes full of mirth. “Yes!” he exclaims. “I like it even better that
way!”

Of course, you do, Sirius thinks fondly. That must be Remus’ whole life motto. It suits him to a
tee.

“And how much would you risk for fun?” Sirius raises his eyebrows challengingly, suddenly swept
up by the playfulness of the whole interaction.

It has the absolutely elating effect of making Remus speechless for a moment. Something Sirius
has never thought would be possible. Him, making Remus Lupin speechless. What a great day.

He grins slowly and points an approving finger at Sirius. “Finally! You’re asking the right
questions,” he says happily. “Stop with this ‘what is this?’, ‘where are we?’, ‘is this allowed?’
bullshit. This is the real deal!”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “So?”

Remus purses his lips in thought. “As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, I’m down for all,” he says
finally.

And this too is a very Remus thing to say. Sirius smiles at him openly. “Thought so.”

“What about you, Sirius?” he asks suggestively. “What would you risk for fun?”

Sirius sighs and closes his eyes briefly. Jesus fucking Christ, he never learns, does he? He should
have expected to get the question in return.

“I guess we will find out,” he says finally and when he opens his eyes, Remus is smiling softly at
him.

“I guess we will,” he agrees easily.

***

“Do you always go to Sneak Previews?” Sirius asks as they are lining up to get the tickets.

The line is not that long even though it’s a big chain cinema and it’s prime time – eight o’clock.
The entrance hall is huge, with multiple elaborate chandeliers dangling above them from a high
ceiling. It smells strongly like popcorn and a little like candy floss, a smell directly from Sirius’
childhood. It seems like no matter which country you’re in, the cinemas are exactly the same
everywhere.

“Sometimes,” Remus says. “When I find the time. I usually work on the weekends. Better tips.”

Sirius nods in understanding. He already guessed that Remus worked weekends – even though
Berlin’s nightlife was strong every day of the week, Friday through Sunday were still the biggest
nights to go out. The image of Remus, living in his element behind the bar, pops up in his mind and
he smiles to himself.

It’s their turn and Remus handles the conversation with the girl behind the till while Sirius studies
the schedule on the screen above her. The Sneak Preview is actually in English with subtitles, and
he doesn’t know whether it’s always like this, a coincidence or actually Remus’ attention to detail.
Either way, it’s a nice bonus.

When Sirius tries to get out his wallet to pay, Remus waves him off dismissively.

“I can pay for myself,” Sirius grumbles when they get their tickets and walk towards the entrance.

“Sure,” Remus agrees. “But it’s tradition here, don’t you know? The birthday boy pays.”

Sirius actually stops in his tracks and looks up at a grinning Remus. Right, of course, it’s the tenth
of March! He completely forgot that it was Remus’ birthday.

“Oh, fuck,” Sirius groans. “When did you intend to tell me?”

Remus laughs. “It’s not a big deal,” he says easily. “But I will accept birthday wishes.”

Sirius sighs and drags a hand through his hair before smiling up at him. “Happy birthday, Remus,”
he says earnestly. “I wish you more fun than you can manage this year.”

He clicks his tongue and nods. “Good wishes, thank you,” he says contently. “I will also accept
your payment for provision.”

“Whatever the ‘birthday boy’ wants,” Sirius says mockingly and grins at Remus’ amused eye roll.
“Your wish is my command.”

Remus chuckles and steers them to the bar. “I like the sound of that!” he announces. “Now tell me,
Sirius, and this is very important to me. Be honest.”

His demeanour changes abruptly and Sirius eyes him suspiciously, already dreading whatever life-
uprooting thing he will say next.

“Popcorn,” he says seriously. “Sweet or salty?”

Sirius actually snorts, surprised by the innocence of it. “What question is this?” he asks back
disdainfully. “Salted, obviously .”

Remus sighs theatrically and clutches his heart. “A match made in heaven,” he drawls, making
Sirius laugh out loud with his antics. “A man of refined tastes. I like, I like.”

“Who eats sweet popcorn?” Sirius asks, scandalized.

“Sirius, you won’t believe me,” Remus says with a disappointed look in his eyes. “The entirety of
Germany. I swear to God, it’s horrible. Watch the look in this woman’s eyes when we order.”

Sirius does watch carefully for any sign of repulsion from the woman behind the counter while
Remus talks to her. There is nothing but indifference on her face.

“Did you see that?” Remus whispers conspiratorially afterwards. “She was judging so hard.”

“Yeah, totally,” Sirius agrees just to humour him. His bad attempt at it doesn’t go unnoticed
because Remus gives him an amused glance and smiles. “I swear! I think I saw her spit in it before
she handed it over!”

Remus throws his head back and laughs loudly, then quickly brings up a hand to his face to quiet
himself when people turn to glare at them. He squeezes his eyes shut and his shoulders shake
silently.

“Süß,” he presses out finally.

Sirius doesn’t speak German well, but he knows enough to understand that he was just called ‘cute’
by Remus fucking Lupin. The epitome of playful clothing choices, adorable smiles and cheeky
dimples. Sirius doesn’t even know how to begin to process this.

The actual hall is pretty big, maybe only one size down from the premier hall, and it’s full of
people. Remus was right, they are a bit late – by German standards, at least. The perpetual roll of
adverts before the actual film hasn’t even started yet.

Remus picked out seats in the front half, probably because the others were already taken, and
Sirius has to slither down the seat to not have to crane his neck up the whole time. Actually, it’s
pretty relaxing that way and maybe even more immersing. On second thought, maybe Remus
picked these seats on purpose, that would be a very Remus thing to do.

“Wait a second,” Sirius whispers, suddenly hit by a realization. “It’s your birthday today. And you
wanted to spend it with me?! Don’t you have other friends?”

Remus looks over at him and stuffs his face with a huge fist of popcorn. Sirius has to stifle a laugh
at how ridiculous he looks.

“I have other friends,” Remus confirms after he has swallowed and then picks up a popcorn kernel
and flicks it in Sirius’ face with a grin. “But I thought you would have liked to spend my birthday
with me.”

Sirius gives him an unimpressed look and flicks the kernel back. Of course, he misses, almost hits
the woman behind Remus, and instantly wishes to be swallowed by the ground when she turns
around and promises with her eyes to murder him as soon as the lights are out. Remus has to hold
his mouth with both hands in order to muffle his hysteric laughter.

“You thought I would like to spend your birthday with you?” Sirius repeats, just to make sure
there is no misunderstanding.

Remus simply nods, still giggling a little. “Do you want to say you don’t want to spend my
birthday with me?” And then he pouts. He pouts. Like the man-child he is.

Sirius has never been much impressed by all these little tricks girls liked to do – batting eyelashes,
twirling hair, talking in a baby voice, making puppy-dog-eyes. He takes one look at Remus’
theatrical pout and feels like someone stabbed him in the heart. It’s adorable. How dare he.

“I do want to spend it with you,” he says slowly and then narrows his eyes at an innocent-looking
Remus. “Are you trying to deflect your way out of this question?”
He grins. “De– what? Sorry, I don’t know that word, oops.” The lights in the hall die down and the
heavy curtains open to reveal the screen. “Look, the movie is starting! Better be quiet.”

This little shit. Sirius half-scoffs, half-laughs and shakes his head. Well, no answer is also an
answer. Remus definitely wanted to spend his birthday specifically with Sirius. The question was –
why?

***

“Well, that was a ride,” Remus says and rubs his eyes as they step out of the cinema.

Sirius glances at him with a smile. “It wasn’t that bad…”

Remus chuckles and throws the remains of the popcorn in the nearest bin. “It was a movie about a
girl wanting to become an athlete in the Olympics,” he says with a sceptical expression. “And
then… she becomes that. So boring.”

Sirius splutters and has to hold himself steady on Remus' arm from how hard he has to laugh.
Remus looks at him, a mix of surprise and amusement in his eyes, and laughs as well, a hand
securely clasping Sirius’ elbow. “What?”

“It was an epic story about the American dream, from zero to hero, about the difficulties of
professional sports and racism amongst athletes,” Sirius presses out and wipes his eyes. “And this
was boring to you? What would have been interesting?”

Remus lets go of him and steers them down some side street next to the cinema building. They are
in the equivalent of the financial district in Berlin, and in typical Berlin fashion, the glossy office
high-rises are peppered with crowded bars and flashy restaurants on the lower floors.

“Hmm,” Remus hums in thought. “Imagine her wanting to become an athlete and then suddenly
realizing that this is stupid and ending up… I don’t know. Opening a doggy day-care. That would
be a plot twist I could get behind.”

Sirius shakes his head and laughs, giddy from the warm murmur of people around them, the
blinking of city lights, Remus’ firm shoulder not-quite-touching his as they are walking. “Of
course. Why did I even ask? That would be something you would do.”

With a bright grin, Remus steps over to a bar and opens the door for Sirius. “Yes! Still debating
whether I should have just become a dog walker.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Sirius walks into the bar and looks around. It looks surprisingly small
and cosy for the district they are in. The ceiling is lined with copper piping and the walls are
stripped bare, showing the rough brick of the building – very industrial style. The many lights
above are made out of upcycled plant pots, some even have ferns dangling down from them into
the room. Remus spots a small table at the window and promptly claims it, unzipping his colourful
jacket and slumping in one of the chairs. Sirius sits down across from him with a smile.

“You’re still hungry?”

Remus grimaces and pats his stomach. “Fuck no,” he says miserably, then grins. “But I’m thirsty.
Let’s get drunk!”
It’s been a long while since Sirius has had more than just one cocktail or a beer, all of them
somehow from Remus’ hands, but how could he refuse the ‘birthday boy’? He shrugs and picks up
the wooden slate that functions as the drinks menu. All of the cocktails have absolutely laughable
names, none of which Sirius recognizes, and this is also very Berlin.

“What would you like to drink?”

Remus smiles evilly, his eyes flashing. “This feels like a night for tequila.”

Sirius gives him a disbelieving look. “Hell no.”

“Hell yeah!” Remus exclaims and drums his pointer fingers excitedly on the edge of the table.
“Tequila is fun.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Sirius puts the elaborate menu down and catches the eye of the
waitress from across the room. She nods and makes her way over to them. “Fine. Tequila it is.”

Remus throws his head back and lets out a put-on laugh as if he’s a villain in a Disney film. Sirius
tries very hard to bite down the sappy smile that fights its way on his face. This guy… An absolute
nutter.

“Tequila!” Remus orders dramatically when the waitress arrives.

She smiles indulgingly and readies her pen. “How much?”

He gives her a severe look over his oversized lenses. “All of it,” he says. “Give us all the tequila.”

Apparently, Sirius is not the only one struggling to keep up with Remus’ brain because she just
freezes, a panicked smile still glued to her face, and stares at him. Sirius chuckles.

“Just bring us…” He eyes Remus critically. “Three shots each.”

Remus wiggles his eyebrows. “For the start.”

“For starters,” Sirius agrees and shares an amused look with the waitress. She nods gratefully at
him and quickly retreats, probably afraid of having to sustain any more conversations with Remus
Lupin. Sirius can’t blame her.

“So, tell me,” Remus says, “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Sirius snorts. “I am grown-up.”

He’s not surprised by the question at all. In fact, he expected it a little bit after they talked about
the film. Maybe Sirius is starting to anticipate the questions Remus randomly asks him. Perhaps
someday they won’t throw him so off-kilter anymore.

“Are you really?” Remus asks, amused. “When is someone grown-up?”

“I know you aren’t,” Sirius says and gives him a loaded look. Remus just grins happily.

“No, I’m not,” he agrees and crosses his fingers for show. “Maybe someday!”

“Good luck,” Sirius says sarcastically, not at all sure that it would be possible.

More than that, it would be a shame, really. People like Remus should never become as boring and
listless as Sirius, they should burn, bright and blinding, like a falling star. And maybe some poor
bastard will be lucky enough to witness them and make a wish.

If they know what to wish for…

“So, what is it?” Remus urges.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Maybe I will open a doggy day-care, you just wait.”

Remus laughs. “I’m down! Just tell me when and where. You do the boring organization stuff, I
bring the dogs.”

“That’s not how a doggy day-care works,” Sirius mentions in vain. “Besides, why are you so
confident? Where would you even get the dogs?”

Remus raises an eyebrow, his expression serious. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the
answer to, Sirius.”

“Got it,” Sirius murmurs, making big eyes and holding up his hands in defeat. “What do you want
to become when you grow up?”

He giggles as if he’s already drunk. “Ach, I don’t know… Maybe a vet, or an astronaut. Or! I don’t
know what exactly that job is, but I really want to drive one of those cranes on a building site.”

“Remus, you’re twenty-eight now, you can’t become an astronaut anymore.”

Remus cocks his head with a mocking grin. “Says who? Watch me enrol in an Aeronautics and
Astronautics program and talk to me in ten to twenty years.” He mimics a phone with his hand and
holds it to his ear. “Hello? Sirius? Sorry, I can’t talk right now, I’m implementing new life forms
on Mars! Bye!”

Sirius is still laughing when their drinks arrive, now with a different waiter. Either it’s a
coincidence or Remus really scared off the first girl – both are absolutely valid options. The shots
come with an artfully arranged plate of cut-up limes and a small dish with pink Himalayan salt.
Very fancy.

“You do know how to drink tequila?” Remus asks and licks the junction between his thumb and
pointer finger to put the salt on it.

“Yes, Remus, I may not be a barman, but I have drunk tequila before,” Sirius grumbles, following
his example. He wonders whether he should have washed his hands before licking them but oh
well… Someone like Remus doesn’t worry about things like that, why should he?

“No, no, no!” Remus stops him before Sirius can take his first shot. “Let me show you!”

He takes Sirius hand and guides it around his so that their arms are intertwined, faces brought close
together over the small table. Sirius already feels a bit heady, and he didn’t even drink a sip yet.
Maybe this was a bad idea…

“Let’s drink to never letting anyone tell you what to do,” Remus suggests with a glint in his eyes.
And just like that, he manages to say something that strikes Sirius to the very core, yet again.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “That’s a good one.”

The tequila burns down Sirius’ throat and he grimaces at the taste, picking up a piece of lime
quickly. This combination is so distinct that it brings back lots of memories from his uni days when
he still had friends to get pissed with.

“Why tequila?” Sirius asks curiously.

Remus picks up another piece of lime because he’s apparently a psycho, and bites into it with
gusto, not even wincing. “It’s fun,” he says with a shrug. “And nobody has ever made any bad
decisions when tequila was involved.”

Sirius grins at him. “Oh, you sweet, innocent soul,” he drawls. “I’m pretty positive that any bad
decision ever made was under the influence of tequila.”

He laughs at his bad joke and quirks an eyebrow. “You have to see the bright side of it,” he
advises. “If you make a really bad decision, you can just drink more and forget it ever happened.”

“Is this like the question of whether the tree actually fell in the forest if there was no one around to
hear it?” Sirius asks, amused. “Because yes, it did.”

Remus cocks his head, suddenly losing all the playfulness. “Do you always avoid making
decisions in case you make a bad one?”

Sirius sighs and rubs his eyebrow. “There are decisions and there are Decisions,” he says, stressing
the last one. “Yes, I am afraid of making a bad Decision.”

“You know,” Remus says, picking up the next shot, “sometimes postponing a Decision is worse
than making a bad one.” He grins and raises his hand with the tequila. “No risk, no fun!”

„No pain, no gain,“ Sirius presses out through a laugh and Remus almost chokes on his shot.

Sirius doesn’t know what he’s risking here, but if Remus continues to smile at him like that, there
is indeed a lot to gain.

***

Sirius would never admit to it and if anyone ever asked, he would deny it vehemently, but the film
he watched with Remus sort of, kind of, maybe inspired him a little bit.

It’s been a long while, but he somehow finds himself debating whether he should take up running
again. When he was in school and uni, he did lots of sports. He played football first and then got
into the lacrosse team. And to stay in shape, he would go running almost every day before classes.
All of this died down when he graduated and settled into a respectable, adult lifestyle. Of course,
like any respectable adult, he still owned a gym membership, but he never enjoyed it as much as he
enjoyed running.

He’s almost through the check-out process of an online shop where he picked out the essential
workout gear when he stops himself before paying.

This is not what Remus would do, he thinks. Remus wouldn’t just order stuff online from the
comfort of his bed. He would dive head-first into some sports supply store, eyes burning with
excitement, definitely chat up a sales assistant there, and pick up some outrageous running shoes
with glow-in-the-dark laces or something.
So, Sirius closes the browser, then closes his laptop, and does just that.

Apart from the shoe choice, obviously. He may be slowly working up his quirkiness, if going
shopping in real life could even be considered that, but he’s not so far gone as to make a fool of
himself with eighties-style workout clothing.

The nearest shopping district to his home is bustling with the after-work crowd, and Sirius
inexplicably feels elated by the steady flow of the masses when it would have annoyed him to no
end before. He spots three dogs on his way to the shop and chuckles to himself, remembering
Remus’ ridiculous talk about stealing dogs for a day-care. Because this is what he meant, of
course. This madman.

He would probably want to pet them, at least. Sirius watches the excitedly pacing Labrador on the
train and smiles. Actually, Sirius wants to pet this one too. Then he looks over to the owner and
their perpetual scowl and quickly turns around. Okay, maybe not this one. But someday he will
work up the courage to just approach a grim German with a cute dog and ask them in his broken
language to pet their dog. Yes, that’s a goal to strive for.

The store is huge, and Sirius feels a bit lost until a guy in climbing gear walks up to him and asks
him if he needs help. Wow, maybe Berlin does actually have some form of customer service. What
a surprise.

“Are you beginner?” the guy asks him, guiding Sirius through the shop and to the running section.
His English is good, just like any German’s under thirty-five, even if a bit chopped off.

“Sort of,” Sirius says with a sardonic smile. “I don’t have any equipment.”

The guy nods seriously. “We have everything,” he says confidently and points to the different
racks. “Shoes, clothes, jackets, accessories.” Then he points to the glass display next to the till.
“We have good headphones for running. Don’t fall out. Waterproof. Very good.”

Sirius thinks about it for a second and then nods. Running without music would probably be a
chore, even though he can’t remember when he last owned a pair of headphones at all. It never
occurred to him that he too could be one of the many people walking the streets with music in their
ears instead of the boom and bustle of the city traffic.

“Sounds perfect,” he decides.

The guy gives him a thumbs-up. “Let’s measure your feet,” he says, his tone not leaving any room
for arguments, and points to a low bench next to the shoe rack. “Sit down. Relax. I will take care.”

“Okay.” Sirius laughs at the absurdity of the statement. “Go on, take care of me.”

He underestimated the sense of humour of the assistant because he laughs and rolls his eyes a little.
“Not flirting. Just working.”

Sirius blinks a couple of times and frowns. “Oh, sorry, no! I didn’t mean it like that–“

“Is okay,” the guy says with another laugh and waves a hand. “This is Berlin. Everyone welcome.
My brother is gay too. Two children with his husband! Very cute.”

He laughs again while Sirius stares at him in bewilderment and walks off to retrieve the stuff for
measuring.

Sirius shakes his head and doesn’t know whether this was embarrassing or just highly amusing.
 Remus would find it absolutely hilarious, that is for sure. Sirius can picture his contagious laugh
easily.

This guy thinks Sirius is gay. Is Sirius gay? He didn’t think he was, before. But would that be so
weird? Sirius has always been pretty open to the concept of dating all genders, he just never
actually went out of his way to date anyone but girls. Maybe this is why it never worked out…

And the biggest question is – is a sports supply store really the place for an existential meltdown
about one’s sexuality?

Definitely not, Sirius decides and smiles at the guy who’s coming back again. A thought for
another day.

Chapter End Notes

When will Sirius realize that they are properly dating now? Place your bets in the
comments :D
 Spring vibes
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Ich verbrenne mein Studio, (I burn my studio)

schnupfe die Asche wie Koks (snort the ashes like cocaine)

Ich erschlag meinen Goldfisch, (I kill my goldfish)

vergrab ihn im Hof (bury him in the yard)

Ich jag meine Bude hoch, (I blow up my crib)

alles was ich hab lass ich los (I let go of everything I have)

Mein altes Leben schmeckt wie ein labbriger Toast (My old life tastes like stale toast)

– Peter Fox, Alles Neu

After Remus’ birthday, spring arrives in Berlin.

It’s as if the city changes overnight. The perpetual rain stops and the greyness lifts as if someone
wiped a dusty mirror with a cloth, making everything appear sharp and vibrant. Days get longer,
the temperature rises, trees sprout gentle buds, and the wind changes from freezing and biting into
a refreshing breeze.

Berlin is suddenly unrecognizable in March. Or maybe it’s just Sirius.

The sun blinds Sirius as he turns the corner, and he wipes his damp forehead with a wrist. He spots
a small park area at the end of the street and heads for it, passing a long line of parents with their
children in front of an ice cream shop on the way. Running on concrete is okay, but Sirius still lets
out a relieved sigh when his feet meet the softer gravelled path of the park and picks up his pace a
notch.

The park is small and full to the brim. There are hordes of little kids going wild at the fenced-off
playground area, and Sirius can hear their giggles and screams even through the loud music in his
ears. Next to the playground is a nice-looking basketball court, a group of teenage boys in training
gear chasing the ball with determined expressions on their faces. Behind it, a patch of grass blooms
with little groups of Berliners, sitting on picnic blankets in the sun – laughing, chatting, listening to
music on Bluetooth speakers, eating and enjoying their Sunday. It smells of freshly cut grass,
Indian food and happiness.

A pair of runners pass Sirius, a man and a woman in matching blue running shoes, and they nod at
him in a friendly way. Sirius smiles back through the throbbing pain in his side – he’s getting
better, but he’s nowhere near where he was back in uni. Things like this take time, after all. He’s
not afraid to allow himself the space to slowly work his way up to where he’s been before.

As he gets out of the little park, he spots a train station in the distance and notices in surprise that
this is actually his nearest commute station – he didn’t even realize he somehow made a leap and
was back in his neighbourhood. He didn’t even know that there was a park so close to his flat!

Maybe he should visit it someday and also bask in the sun along with the others?

Sirius takes a quick look at his watch and decides that he’s been running long enough now. He
feels exhausted, sweat making the thin material of his workout shirt cling to his back underneath
the jacket. He needs a shower.

Just as he passes the train station, dodging an old lady with a walker on the narrow pavement, he
spots a very familiar-looking face from the corner of his eyes ascending the stairs from the trains
tracks. Sirius stops abruptly and turns around, just in time for Remus to step out on the street.

He’s wearing a jacket today that Sirius hasn’t seen before – a blue-and-red windbreaker, the half-
zip going up to his chin. Remus tugs down his huge headphones and looks at him with a surprised
smile.

“Hey!”

Sirius smiles somewhat strained, the stitch in his side still bothering him, but pulls out his own
earbuds as well, letting them dangle around his neck. “Hi,” he says as he approaches.

Remus raises his eyebrows, his smile stretching into a grin, and looks him up and down with a
curious expression. “You’re jogging?”

“Yes,” Sirius confirms a bit sheepishly and swipes his sweaty hair away from his forehead.
“What?”

“Nothing,” Remus says quickly and shakes his head, still looking a bit shocked. “Just wondering if
you’re a masochist. Jogging? Really?”

Sirius huffs a laugh and grimaces, rubbing his aching side. Maybe Remus has a point there.

“Horrible, I know,” he agrees and laughs. “You can come with me sometime.”

Remus makes big eyes at him and scrunches up his nose, looking the very picture of unaltered
disgust. “I can’t imagine a worse thing to do. But I’m happy you like it!”

That’s a good thing, Sirius supposes. With his long legs, it would probably be more like a brisk
walk and not a run for Remus, while Sirius is trying to keep up. Talk about unfair height advantage.

Sirius huffs and nods. “What are you doing here?”

Remus smiles at him openly. “I was going to see you,” he says easily.

It makes something warm bloom in Sirius’ chest, like a tentative spring flower fighting its way
through the frosty soil. He eyes Remus carefully. “Really? Haven’t you been working all night?”

“Yep,” Remus says with a grin. He doesn’t look like he has been awake all night at all – just as
vibrant and fresh as he always is. “Wolfsbane is just two stations away from your house. I thought
I’d drop by and ask you whether you like coffee in Berlin.”

Right, the club Remus works at is really just a couple of blocks away. Sirius looks at him
quizzically. The phrasing is a bit weird but maybe that’s just the language barrier. “I mean, yeah,
sure,” Sirius says slowly. “I drink coffee every day.”

Remus rolls his eyes in exasperation, but he’s still smiling. “No, not in the shoot-the-caffeine-
straight-into-my-vein way you probably drink coffee. I mean, do you like Berlin’s coffee culture?”

Sirius shakes his head in confusion. “Berlin has a coffee culture?”

“Sirius!” Remus exclaims accusingly. “Your neighbourhood is the hotspot for the third wave
coffee scene! And you haven’t tried it?”

“No?” Sirius answers hesitantly.

Remus sighs and nods. “I was afraid you’d say that. Come on then, I’ll show you.”

“I just came back from a run,” Sirius says and tries not to think about how horrible he must look
right now, drenched in sweat. “I need a shower first.”

With a shrug, Remus leans against the railing of the bridge over the train station in an obvious
display of patience. “Sure, I’ll wait here for you,” he says. “Run, Forrest, run!”

Sirius laughs and nods, already putting his earbuds back in. He doesn’t know if it’s just a silly joke,
but the idea that Remus might be the Jenny Curran to his Forrest Gump makes him almost sprint
back to his flat.

***

Remus is still standing in the exact spot Sirius left him fifteen minutes ago, nose buried in his
phone, a cigarette hanging lazily from the corner of his mouth. It has been the quickest shower of
Sirius’ life, but he still takes some time to approach Remus, having the rare opportunity to watch
him without being seen himself.

His hair almost glows in the beams of the early morning sun, falling over his forehead in an
effortless, but artfully arranged way. Sirius doesn’t know whether he actually spends any time
making sure his hair looks that way or he’s just naturally stunning like that. Does he look so
handsome when he wakes up too?

“You have new glasses,” Sirius says, coming up to him.

Remus shifts, looking up from his phone and quickly tosses the half-burnt cigarette over the railing
before smiling apologetically. Sirius frowns, confused by his actions.

“Oh, yeah,” Remus says and laughs with a nervous undertone that is new to Sirius. “A birthday gift
from my friends.”

Sirius smiles and reaches out to pluck the glasses off his face. “Let’s see how blind you really are.”

These glasses, contrary to the large gold-rimmed lenses Sirius has seen before, are smaller and
have a plastic, transparent frame. They look very cool on Remus, but he could probably wear
anything and look good in it.

Sirius holds them up to his face and glances through the lenses before actually putting them on
fully, realizing with a surprised huff that the trees and buildings around them actually look clearer
to him and not blurry as he expected.

“Oh, wow,” Sirius says and laughs a little. “Maybe I need glasses too.”
When he pulls the frames off again to hand them back, Remus is looking at him with a soft smile.
Sirius has seen him without glasses once when they went shopping – Remus must have worn
contacts, or so Sirius hopes since he was driving – but he still looks a bit weird without them. Not
bad, just a bit naked somehow.

“It suits you,” Remus says, putting his glasses back on. “You should see a… What’s it called in
English? Eye doctor?”

“Ophthalmologist,” Sirius supplies and grimaces. “Nah, then I would actually have to wear glasses.
It would go against my style.”

Remus laughs and shakes his head. “What is your style?” he asks curiously.

There he goes again. Sirius hesitates a little – this was meant as a small joke. Must Remus always
pick up on the tiniest things that make Sirius question everything?

“I… don’t actually know,” Sirius admits truthfully. He’s been trying this thing. It was to stop lying
– to others, but especially to himself. Even if it was embarrassing.

Remus doesn’t laugh at him though. He nods and motions with his head towards the station next to
them. “Let’s find out.”

***

Sirius has never been in the area Remus takes him to, even though it’s just a short ride from his flat.
Where his house is located amongst other, mostly fancy newbuilds, this place is almost exclusively
old structures with intricate ornaments and iron-wrought balcony railings.

The houses look like they are at least a hundred years old, some with red brick walls, some painted
over in all different colours. Sirius can’t keep his eyes off the long row of buildings, every one of
them a different pastel shade – rose, faint green, sky blue, cream and pale yellow.

“Pretty, huh?” Remus says knowingly and smiles. “I like this part of Prenzlauer Berg very much.”

Sirius nods, still looking around. Behind them, the tube is actually coming up above the ground for
a short stretch, and Sirius watches how the typical Berlin yellow train snakes its way over the
green metal of the bridge, the windows flashing with the reflection of the bright sun.

The street is bustling with people. Moms in trendy sunglasses are pushing strollers, young couples
are striding over the pavement like it’s a runway, food curriers with large, colourful backpacks are
zooming around on bikes.

The little boutiques and cafés on the ground floor all have their doors wide open, letting guests and
the spring breeze through. Small, independent designer brands, local businesses making all kinds
of peculiar nick-nacks, vegan ice cream stands, and fancy thrift shops all mix together into a
browsing experience Sirius much prefers to the standard big-brand shopping districts.

Remus leads Sirius to a small café that he definitely would have passed without a second glance if
he was alone. It’s not properly advertised, and the outdoor sitting area looks more like a mix of an
urban gardening spot and a beach retreat.
The barista is a moody-looking girl with heavy face piercings, but she seems to soften as soon as
she’s met with Remus’ most charming smile, all white teeth and symmetrical dimples. Sirius can’t
blame her; he barely has the power of will to not stare at his friend all the time. Remus could
probably get anything he wants from anyone with a smile like that.

He orders in English and sustains light small talk with her while she prepares their drinks, asking
something about their new plants outside and an event they hosted for a book signing last month –
Sirius isn’t listening, he’s way too transfixed by the way Remus leans casually on the counter, his
jacket and shirt riding up just a bit to show the waistband of his underwear and a thin strip of skin
on his back.

“Are you okay?” Remus asks turning around to him with two coffee cups in his hands.

Sirius blinks and smiles. “Yeah. I like your jacket.”

Remus cocks his head and grins. “Is this what you always say when someone catches you checking
them out?” He walks past him and winks. “Be careful, it’s getting warmer. Soon there won’t be any
jackets to compliment. You’ll have to admit to it then.”

With a shaky sigh, Sirius rubs his way-too-hot cheek and tries to compose himself. The barista
catches his eyes and huffs a laugh. “It is a nice jacket?” she offers out of pity.

Sirius rolls his eyes. He couldn’t care less about Remus’ stupid jackets, and everyone knows it.
“Yeah,” he says. “He has a lot of those.”

“I bet,” she says suggestively.

Remus is sprawled out on a bench just underneath the shop window of the café, balancing his cup
on one knee and tilting his head up to face the sun like a lazy cat. Sirius eyes him with some
resentment before joining – he should change the emoji after Remus’ contact to a devil after all.
There was nothing angelic about him.

“What is third wave coffee?” Sirius asks.

Remus hums and hands Sirius his drink. It’s served in a large, shallow cup, elaborate latte art
adorning the surface. “It’s basically a way to enjoy coffee as something more than just a vehicle
for caffeine,” he explains. “A bit of a luxury. The beans are single-origin, fair trade and roasted
locally, mostly by the cafés themselves. For Berlin, it’s usually very light roasts that bring out the
fruity flavours of the beans.”

Sirius gapes at him in astonishment. “You know a lot about coffee, don’t you?”

“I worked in a coffee shop like that for a while,” Remus says and smiles at him, having to squint
one eye shut against the sun to see Sirius.

“Not anymore?” Sirius asks curiously. “What happened?”

“I didn’t get along with some other staff members there,” he admits easily. “And the tips were
horrible too.”

Sirius tries really hard and fails at imagining Remus not getting along with anyone . Either it was
an understatement, and something bigger happened, or the other staff members at that café were
absolute bastards.

“I don’t believe you,” Sirius says with a huff. “There is not a single person on this Earth that
wouldn’t like you if they met you.”

Remus grins brightly and shakes his head. “Oh, believe me, there are many people that don’t like
me,” he says.

“Impossible,” Sirius argues and grins back.

“Ach, Sirius, just because you like me doesn’t mean everyone does,” Remus says casually and
sips his coffee, leaning back on the bench again and closing his eyes.

“You are a very likeable person.” Sirius rolls his eyes and sips his coffee as well, almost reluctant
to ruin the perfect latte art. It tastes very good – rich and creamy, a bit sour on the aftertaste.
“Besides, I never said I liked you.”

“Oh, but you did, and often too,” Remus singsongs. He has stretched out his long legs, ankles
crossed and balances the cup on his stomach. “Don’t worry. I like you too.”

Sirius scoffs. “Do you even need me here? I can just go. You seem to be content talking to
yourself.”

“Touchy,” Remus comments with a sly smile. “Stop staring at me and look at the people around.
We are on a mission to find your style, remember?”

Remus has the mind-boggling ability to hear what isn’t said and see with his eyes closed. Sirius
whips his head away as if burned. He has been staring. Again.

He turns his focus on the passing pedestrians then. There seems to be a steady stream of people
walking past them as if all of them are heading for the same location. Sirius cranes his neck and
can see the outskirts of a park and a sea of white-tented stands.

“It’s the Mauerpark,” Remus says, following his eyes. “There is a flea market on Sundays,
performances, outdoor karaoke. That sort of stuff. I’ll show you some other time, it’s better during
summer in my opinion.”

Sirius can’t help a happy smile at the easily offered prospect of keeping Remus in his life for a
good while longer. Subconsciously, Sirius still believes to some degree that Remus will one day
just vanish as quickly as he appeared. When his interest inevitably fades, and his attention turns to
more fun things.

The people around them are mostly young – somewhere between twenty and thirty-five – but there
is a fair share of old folk. A pair of grandmas, arms hooked together, taking a morning stroll.
Parents with their school-age children. Women in colourful hijabs. Busy-looking middle-aged men
with phones glued to their faces. Self-important yuppies with white collars and pastel sweaters
slung over their shoulders.

“That’s not fashion, that’s capitalism,” Remus groans when Sirius points out a fancy guy in a
pinstriped suit.

Sirius huffs. “Fashion is capitalism, Remus,” he remarks.

“No,” Remus says with a smile. “Fashion is art.”

For once, Sirius doesn’t think it’s a comment that is aimed to achieve anything besides arguing a
point. It still makes him freeze a little, a small, almost unnoticeable tug in his chest reminding him
of dreams he buried long ago. Remus has no way of knowing that.
“You know,” Sirius says, surprising himself with this expression of honestly, “I wanted to study
Art once.”

Remus, attentive to emotionally charged topics as ever, cocks his head and raises his eyebrows.
“Really? What did you study?”

Sirius hums. “Finance and Marketing.”

“In London, right?” Remus asks.

“No, at Oxford,” Sirius corrects him absentmindedly, his attention grabbed by the biggest,
sloppiest dog he’s ever seen stopping to sniff one of the flowerpots next to the café.

Remus makes a surprised noise. “You went to Oxford University?”

Sirius eyes him then, amused by his reaction. “University of Oxford,” he corrects him with a laugh.
“Yeah, I did. Is that so surprising to you?”

“I think that’s very impressive,” Remus says earnestly. Then he hums. “Actually, I don’t think I
know anything about Oxford besides that I should be impressed by it.”

“It’s honestly overrated,” Sirius mumbles, uncomfortable with it. “But, yes, it’s seen as quite
prestigious.”

Remus smiles at him. “You must have been a smart student,” he says. “Did you like Finance and
Marketing?”

Sirius laughs, maybe a bit too loud. “I hated every second of it,” he admits without a second
thought. “Thank God it’s over.”

“Your grades weren’t good?” Remus prods further, his tone genuinely sympathetic.

“I got a First, actually,” Sirius says with a sardonic smile.

Remus frowns. “First? Is that good?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s…” Sirius laughs. “That’s good. You don’t have that here? What do you say for
the best mark? Summa cum laude?”

Remus actually gapes at him. “I think we only use summa cum laude for dissertations here, but I’m
not sure,” he says and shakes his head. “Wait. You got a 1,0 on your degree? That’s very…
impressive.”

Sirius would have thought Remus is the last person to be impressed by something like that. He
didn’t seem like someone who was in any way interested in academics.

“Is it?” Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Who cares about grades? It’s been years anyw–“

“Fuck grades!” Remus interrupts him and waves a hand impatiently. “I am more impressed by the
fact that you studied a subject you absolutely hate at Oxford, actually finished it and got the best
marks.” He huffs a disbelieving laugh. “I really don’t understand you… You’re either a genius, a
masochist or just incredibly stubborn.”

Oh.

But of course, that’s what Remus means. As always, looking straight past the outer shell of an
issue and striking right at the core of it.

“Maybe I’m all three,” Sirius muses and laughs.

Remus is still looking at him with so much confusion that Sirius starts to feel uncomfortable. His
green eyes fleet over Sirius’ face as if he’s trying his best to solve a difficult puzzle and failing
miserably.

“Wow,” he says finally and blinks. Then he slumps back on the bench where he leaned forward
during the conversation. “Wow. I wish I could look into your brain sometimes.”

Sirius almost bursts out laughing. Remus , the one who seems to see right through Sirius, wants to
look into his brain? That’s exactly what Sirius thinks about him every time he opens his mouth.
It’s as if they are living on completely parallel levels of the universe.

“You should study Art,” Remus decides and grins. “Yeah, I think you should.”

“Remus,” Sirius says, exasperated. “I’m twenty-eight. I have a degree already. I can’t study Art
now.”

Remus raises his eyebrows and laughs. “Who the fuck put that bullshit in your brain, huh?” he
asks. “Of course, you can. Berlin has great Art programs. Look at the Universität der Künste, they
are said to be very good.”

He’s completely missing the point here. It’s not that Berlin doesn’t have Art programs, although
Sirius never looked into it before. Sirius can’t just do a one-eighty-turn and suddenly decide to
throw all the years of education and work experience overboard to study, at his age, for a
profession that has more than questionable prospects. Sure, he might have dreamed of it at
seventeen, but that was over ten years ago. This ship has sunk.

“It was just a silly thing I imagined doing back in school,” Sirius says and rolls his eyes. “Besides,
it’s not that easy. I haven’t touched a pencil in years. One can’t just decide to study Art – you have
to build a portfolio, you have to apply, you need funds…”

Remus listens to him with an expression that is a mix of amusement, fondness, and exasperation.
“University is free in Germany,” he argues. “Pick up a pencil, then. Make a portfolio. Apply.
What’s stopping you?”

“It sounds so easy coming from you,” Sirius groans and shakes his head. “It’s not.”

“Who said anything about easy?” Remus asks. “It’s not, I understand. But it’s very simple. Just do
it. If you try and it doesn’t work out, then you can either try again or accept that it wasn’t meant to
be. If you never try–“

Sirius laughs. “No risk, no fun?”

Remus clicks his tongue appreciatively. “See, you get it,” he says happily. “You’re a clever bean.”

“Did you just call me a bean?” Sirius asks, absolutely bewildered. Remus fucking Lupin did not
just–

“A clever bean,” Remus corrects him and giggles. “I bet you’re really good at drawing.”

“You have literally no way of knowing that… Remus?” Sirius watches how he promptly jumps up
and strides over to the café entrance. “Where are you going?”
“Just wait a second!” Remus yells and waves a hand before disappearing inside.

He’s doing it again. Sirius sighs and pulls up one ankle on his knee, making himself comfortable in
the sun. It was fruitless to try to keep up with the way Remus’ brain worked – you would spend all
your life with a massive headache. It was best just to trust the process and let him get his kicks in.

It could be that he saw a bird fly by and suddenly remembered that he had to tell his barista friend
something, or maybe he just really craved a muffin or something, because it’s fun , and couldn’t
wait for Sirius to finish his sentence. Perhaps he–

“Sunbathing, London boy?”

Sirius abandons his train of thought and opens one eye. Remus is standing next to the bench,
already returned from whatever he needed to do, and watching him with a lopsided smile, eyes
squinting against the bright sun.

“As if Berlin is much better than London,” Sirius grumbles but smiles. It is nice to be out in
weather like this.

Remus grins and sits down again, holding something behind his back with both hands. “Wait ‘till
it’s summer. You won’t want to be anywhere else.”

I don’t want to be anywhere else right now, Sirius thinks. He almost says it.

“What do you have there?”

With dramatic air, Remus brings his hands forward, showing Sirius a piece of printer paper and a
small pack of coloured pencils you can sometimes get in restaurants to occupy the children until the
food arrives. Sirius is a bit surprised, although he shouldn’t be. Of course, Remus would go out to
find some drawing utensils for him to use immediately . Right now, right here. Why wait? That’s
not fun.

“You want me to draw something, don’t you?” Sirius asks flatly. “Is embarrassing me on your
weekly to-do list?”

Remus smiles kindly. “Not at all,” he says. “A compromise! I will draw something too at the same
time, and then we show each other. And I am warning you now, I really can’t draw.”

While talking, he folds the piece of paper neatly in half and then rips it in two on the edge of the
bench. It’s a very mundane thing to do, but for some reason, Sirius finds it weirdly hot – the way
his hands move so smoothly, how he doesn’t even have to think about it, how the paper rips
satisfyingly even. Maybe that’s why Sirius is so stunned that he actually accepts one half of it
without further arguments. Why is he like this?

“You could learn,” Sirius says absentmindedly, looking around for a suitable subject to draw. He
thinks briefly about the flowerpots, then debates just to sketch the whole street, then his eyes land
on a small family in the café next to them. It’s just a mother, a father, and their little son – not older
than ten, sitting on a chair with his head bowed low over the phone one of his parents must have
given him. He is so short that his legs barely reach halfway to the ground and his hair sticks up
comically on one side. Sirius grins.

“Drawing is just a craft,” Sirius continues, looking through the box of pencils for a suitable colour.
Remus is already scribbling something on his paper, leaning down to a low table in front of the
bench. “Sure, some have more talent than others, but everyone can learn how to do it with enough
practice. It’s the creativity that is the difficult part. You can be the best painter in the world with
the best technique, but if you don’t have any ideas, it’s kind of useless.”

He doesn’t even know why he’s babbling about it for so long. It’s not like Sirius is in any way an
authority when it comes to art, he should be the last person to spew pseudo-wisdom after
abandoning said craft for years.

Drawing is not like riding a bike, you do lose the flow if you don’t practice for a long time. The
paper is too thin and glossy, the pencils are trash – waxy in the worst way, barely visible, the lead
is way too short – and Sirius’ hand feels strange, too heavy and clumsy. But it’s not all that bad,
some things do stick for life, apparently. He eyes the quick sketch critically and can see a million
things wrong with it, and if he was alone, he’d probably redo it so many times until it would come
out right, but it will have to do. Maybe it’s even better if Remus sees how bad it is, then he can stop
bothering Sirius will this studying Art nonsense. As he thinks this, Sirius already knows that it’s in
vain though.

“Okay, I am ready,” Remus announces and picks up his drawing so that Sirius can’t see it, holding
it close to his chest with the brightest smile. “But I cannot stress this enough. I am absolutely shit
at drawing.”

Sirius grins at his excitement and shrugs. “I won’t judge you, don’t worry. On the count of three?
One, tw–“

“Three!” Remus exclaims and almost rips the paper out of Sirius’ hand, shoving his drawing at
him uncaringly.

“Wow.”

“Wow.”

They look up simultaneously to gape at each other and then back down at the drawings.

Sirius honestly expected something silly. Maybe a full page of scribbled dick doodles, or a note
that says ‘haha, I tricked you’ and then dick doodles around it, at the very least some stick figures.

Instead, it’s a quickly done, but impressive graffiti-style sketch. Sirius blinks a couple of times. He
used different colours too! Honestly, this could adorn a wall in Berlin and Sirius would think this
was done by some professional graffiti artist and not Remus I Am Shit At Drawing Lupin.

It says ‘sike!’.

“You fucker.” Sirius laughs and swats Remus’ shoulder with the rolled-up drawing. “You tricked
me!”

Remus grins at him smugly and carefully folds up Sirius’ drawing to put it in his pocket. Sirius
watches him with bewildered amusement. “And you didn’t fool me for a second,” Remus says. “I
knew you were good. This is amazing!”

“Oh, shut up,” Sirius groans but still feels elated by the praise. Remus kept his sketch too, he
thought it was that good. With a challenging eyebrow lift, Sirius folds his graffiti drawing and
pockets it as well. Remus follows his motion and smiles, tongue in cheek.

Without warning, he jumps up enthusiastically and looks at Sirius with glistening eyes. “I know
what to do now!”

Sirius shakes his head and sinks lower on the bench, covering his face with his hands. “By God,
 where do you want to run off to now?”

“Paradise!” he announces nonsensically and grins, holding his hand out for Sirius to take. “Do you
trust me?”

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Sirius looks at his smile, then at his hand, and huffs. “Did
you just quote Aladdin to me?”

Remus throws his head back and laughs, his hand still hovering in the air patiently. “Come on,
Jasmin, I will show you the world!”

Never has a joke sounded so true to Sirius before. He smiles and takes Remus’ warm palm in his.
Sirius does trust him. He probably shouldn’t. But he does anyway.

Chapter End Notes

I really hope you're enjoying this so far. I'd love to talk to you more about it <3
 Welcome to Remus Lupin's room tour
Chapter Notes

As always, the German explanations are in the notes at the end.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Hättest du mir das bloß nie gezeigt (I wish you'd never shown me this)

Seit ich es weiß, kann ich nicht mehr zurück (Now that I know, I can't go back)

Ich will nie wieder alleine sein (I never want to be alone again)

Nimm mich mit! (Take me with you!)

Du hast was Magisches an dir, was keiner sieht (There's something magical about you that no one
can see)

Ein Zauber, der dich jederzeit umgibt (A magic that surrounds you at all times)

Wie ein Parfum, das man nicht kaufen kann (Like a perfume you can't buy)

Fühlt sich unglaublich an (Feels incredible)

Weil es niemand anders wie dich gibt (Because there's no one else like you)

– LEA, Parfum

Sirius sips his ‘shoot-the-caffeine-straight-into-my-vein’ coffee, as Remus has so correctly

described it, and grimaces a little. After he tried what good coffee can taste like, this was just a
chore now. How did Remus do it? Ruin the simplest things for Sirius by showing him how good
they could be if done right?

After dragging Sirius away from the coffee shop, Remus proceeded to take him on multiple
different underground trains going into a part of the city where Sirius has never been. About thirty
minutes and a handful of secret smiles and fruitless questioning later, they emerged on a huge
roundabout that looked completely deserted.

Sirius was sure that this must’ve been an accident – it didn’t look anything like paradise to him –
but Remus just tugged him over to a large building and up a set of stairs to a brightly lit shop.

“Welcome to Modulor,” he announced, very satisfied with himself. “The wet dream of every artist
and the nightmare of every artist’s bank balance.”

It was, indeed, a huge art supply store – four floors, a huge area, full racks and shelves of
everything even remotely concerning arts and crafts. Paints, canvases, pens and pencils, brushes,
sketchbooks, wool and yarn, books on art history and self-study guides, fabrics, wood, clay… It
just went on and on and on, seemingly forever.

“Oh my God,” Sirius said, head spinning from the sheer amount of stuff. “Am I dead? Is this
heaven? You can just leave me here and pick me up in a week…”

Remus laughed happily and even clapped his hands in excitement. “I love when things work out
like that. What a coincidence that the shops are open this Sunday.”

“I’m sure this is some kind of magic you do,” Sirius murmured absentmindedly.

Remus was obviously incredibly curious and excited, and Sirius was sure he would have loved
following him every step of the way and looking over his shoulder. But instead, he smiled, pointed
to a huge corner of the ground floor, and said, “Go wild! I’ll be over there, and try to convince
myself I don’t need another notebook.”

Sirius wasn’t sure he wanted to start doing any art again, hasn’t even thought about it for years
until that day. But as soon as he saw the different possibilities presented to him, an almost-
forgotten excitement took over him. It required way too much self-control to only get some
essentials, and even that has cost him more than he would have liked to admit.

They parted ways soon after, Remus not looking that lively anymore by the end of the trip. “Sorry,
I have to be at work in seven hours again,” he said reluctantly and then stifled a yawn. Sirius felt
bad for keeping him so long after he worked all night.

Apparently, he lived in that neighbourhood anyway, so he just took a bus home, and Sirius got back
on the underground.

“Hey, Sirius, do you have a minute?”

Sirius sighs and sets down his cold coffee before turning to face Just Pete. He’s been staring
unseeingly at his monitor for the past half hour anyway. “If it’s a quick one,” Sirius says. “I have a
phone call in five.”

Peter nods approvingly, putting a lot of emphasis on hustle culture for someone who scrolls
Facebook and drinks kombucha all day.

“We need a new design for merch,” he announces. “Can you find someone to hire for that?”

Never in a million years would Sirius understand why a start-up that provides a cloud service for
other start-ups needs merchandise of all things. If it was Sirius, he would have started with better
customer support, but oh well…

“What do you have in mind?” he asks.

Peter purses his lips, gazing out of the window, clearly not having thought about what exactly he
wants beforehand. “We’ll be at the hub.berlin convention and we need something that will be
memorable.” He waves his hand vaguely. “You know, it has to have this bam!-factor.”

Sirius decidedly doesn’t know. He pictures the conversation he would have to have with the
designer and groans inwardly. There is nothing worse than a customer that doesn’t know what they
want.

“Absolutely,” he says. And then something, he doesn’t even know what, compels him to say,
“Actually, I could do it.”

Peter looks at him, surprised, and smiles. “Oh, I didn’t know you did stuff like that.”

Sirius shrugs nonchalantly. “I worked as a freelance designer for a while on the side.” He didn’t. “I
don’t like to advertise it.” Because that’s a lie. “My service is a bit on the pricier side, so not
everyone can afford me.” What total bullshit, he hasn’t sold a single thing he made in his life.
“And the ones who can, know me already.”

It has the desired effect of making Peter speechless and Sirius smirks inwardly. He can see the cogs
turning quickly behind his eyes.

“That’s quite impressive,” he says and smiles. “But I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able to pay you
more for it.”

Sirius turns back to his monitor, making known he has lost all interest in this conversation. “I’ll
email you the potential designers then,” he drops in a bored tone. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to
pay them .”

Five. Four. Three. Two. O–

“And you really are that good?”

Sirius doesn’t even bother hiding his smile. Peter is a moron, this company will be closed by the
end of next year, surely. Who asks stuff like that?

“I’ll make you a deal, Pete,” he says, turning around again and giving him a benevolent look. “I’ll
prepare my design proposition, and you can decide after seeing it whether you want it or not.”

“Deal!” Peter says instantly. He might be a moron but even he knows that no designer would ever
agree to something like that.

“ But ,” Sirius stresses, “if you do want it, you’ll have to pay me whatever I ask for. And it will be
more than a broke Graphic Design student you’d hire would charge.”

Sirius doesn’t even care about that company or designing something for them. Or money, for that
matter. But the blown-out confidence, paired with a win-win proposition and the fake air of being
sought-after basically leave Peter no other choice but to agree.

When he leaves, undoubtedly feeling like he’s made the deal of his life, Sirius’ office neighbour
peeks his head to the side of the monitor and grins. “You really are that good, aren’t you?”

Sirius clicks his tongue. “Better,” he says easily. His colleague whistles, impressed, and retreats
back to his computer.

It’s honestly funny to him that people still haven’t caught onto the fact that they should never trust
anything someone from marketing says, especially not if they are trying to sell something. As if
Peter doesn’t know that Sirius lies to their customers in exactly the same fashion, trying to make
their service appear at least somewhat appealing.

Sirius might not have put pencil to paper in years, but at least he knows well that your skill doesn’t
even matter all that much as long as you can present yourself in the right way.

Remus would find that incredibly hilarious. And probably be proud of himself since he’s the one
responsible for planting ideas like that in Sirius’ head.
Following a sudden urge, Sirius pulls out his phone and picks out Remus’ contact. It doesn’t even
ring twice until Remus picks up.

“Ja?” his voice sounds from the speaker, a bit hurried and annoyed.

Sirius hesitates for a second. “Remus? Hi.”

“Sirius?” Remus asks, surprised, and his voice changes almost instantly from harassed to
delighted. “Hey! Sorry, I’m in headphones, my hands are dirty.”

“Oh,” Sirius says, feeling a bit guilty. He didn’t even think that Remus would be busy. “It’s not
important, I can call back later.”

“No, no, no!” Remus babbles hurriedly and laughs. “Don’t go! It’s fine! I was just surprised you
called.”

Sirius frowns a little, confused by why it would be so surprising for him to call.

“Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you were free tonight? Do you want to do something?”

“Yes!” Remus replies eagerly and then clears his throat. “I mean, yeah, for sure. Do you have
something specific in mind or…”

“Nah, nothing specific, just wanted to see you,” Sirius says and grins, thinking back to his
conversation with Pete. “I have something fun to tell you.”

Remus laughs. “Okay! Have you been to Kreuzberg before? I can show you around my
neighbourhood.”

Sirius smiles. “Sounds good.”

“Perfect,” Remus decides happily. “Come to my place after work? I should be home by…” He
hesitates. “Five? Yeah, I think I can do five.”

“Alright, see you then,” Sirius says.

“Yep! Bye!”

After hanging up, Sirius is still smiling to himself. Everything is just so easy with Remus, effortless
almost.

“ That was your ‘call in five’?”

Sirius rolls his eyes and tosses his phone on the desk with a bit more force than necessary. “Duc,
are you done eavesdropping? Where is the web analysis I asked for on Monday?”

***

It’s about ten past five when Sirius arrives at Remus’ place. The house is an old one, looking a bit
run-down even, just like the whole neighbourhood has this alternative dirty-but-cool vibe. It suits
Remus well, Sirius thinks.
The door downstairs is open, a haphazardly pinned piece of paper stuck to the buzzer announcing
that it was broken, so Sirius just walks in and pays attention to the little stickers with names on the
doorbells at the flats. He spots ‘Lupin’ on the second floor and rings the bell.

Nothing happens for a long time until shuffling can be heard, and the door opens abruptly.

“Ja?” a man with long, dark dreadlocks ask and raises his eyebrows.

Sirius flounders for a moment, suddenly unsure whether he rang the wrong flat. “Umm… Hi? Is
Remus home?”

“Ach,” the guy says and nods, stepping aside to let Sirius in. “Yes, he just got back.”

He closes the door behind Sirius and smiles. “I’m Markus.”

“Sirius.” They shake hands briefly.

“The London boy,” Markus says then with a smirk and huffs a laugh.

Sirius raises his eyebrows and smiles awkwardly. “That… would be me? I guess?”

Is this Remus’ flatmate? Did they talk about Sirius? Or is it his…

Markus, still smirking, walks down the dark hallway and uncaringly rips open a door at the end of
it. An actual cloud of steam escapes the room and the sound of a shower going filters out.

“Rem, dein Stecher ist hier!” he yells into the bathroom.

Some more water splashing and then Remus’ annoyed voice shouts back, “Halt’s maul!”

Sirius has no idea what is happening and looks around. The hallway is narrow, only a shoe rack
standing next to the door and a row of hooks hanging from the wall across it. The stark contrast
between dark jackets on one side and a colourful explosion on the other half makes Sirius laugh out
loud. Remus’ trademark block-design jacket is also there. Just like Sirius’ most favourite leather
jacket.

“He said he’ll be with you shortly,” Markus lies smoothly, closing the bathroom door again and
motioning to another door. “That’s Rem’s room, you can chill there. Beer is in the kitchen. Feel at
home.”

Okay, definitely just a flatmate then. Sirius nods and toes off his shoes before opening the door to
Remus’ room, feeling morbidly curious about how it would look like.

Well, he doesn’t know what he expected, but he didn’t expect that . Sirius stills in the doorframe
and feels his jaw drop.

Walking into Remus’ room is like walking into a jungle. There are plants everywhere , literally
everywhere. On the wide windowsill, on the floor next to it, on shelves and bookcases, on his desk,
on the sideboard, perching on little side tables and hanging from the ceiling. Ferns are crawling
over the walls, a huge Monstera takes over a whole corner of the room, large leaves fixed on the
wall for support, next to the door is a shelf that looks like a ladder, just for plants.

“Oh my fucking God,” Sirius breathes and steps inside, a shocked smile spreading on his lips.
“Remus fucking Lupin. The ultimate plant mom. I should have known.”

It’s a bit much, actually. Sirius can’t even begin to estimate how long it must take to care for all
this flora, but he can vividly picture Remus walking around in the morning, a coffee cup in one
hand, a watering can in the other. He’s probably talking to them too. Yeah, Remus Lupin is
definitely talking to his plants.

The room is large, it even has a small balcony tacked on, and the high ceiling just makes it look
even bigger – space that Remus didn’t hesitate to use for his plant obsession. It has so much
character too. The floors are wooden planks, but almost the whole room is covered by a giant rug –
a light, almost pastel version of a Persian design. The walls are white but covered in framed
pictures, some prints, even a large handmade stitch painting of a green beetle hanging above the
desk.

The bedframe is huge, a good deal wider than the mattress, creating sort of a bench or sitting area
around it. It looks self-made, or at least Sirius hasn’t seen a bed like that anywhere. Remus’ desk
seems to be thrifted, or handed down – an antique piece in the same light colour as the bed frame.
A big, ornate mirror hangs from the wall next to the closet, a couple of pictures and postcards
tucked under the frame. The sideboard is low, maybe even designed to function as a TV stand, but
there is just an old record player and a speaker system on top of it. The spot above it looks a bit
empty though as if there should be a TV and just isn’t.

Sirius looks around curiously and lets out a delighted ‘aha!’ when he spots a projector mounted
above the bed, facing the bare wall. Remus has built his very own cinema, it seems like.

It’s clean, but not particularly tidy in here. Some books and random pieces of paper are littered on
one side of the bedframe, probably functioning as a nightstand. Sirius spots a slightly crumpled
piece of paper that looks suspiciously like the quick sketch he did in that café Remus took him to,
and smiles a little. The chair behind the desk has some clothes strewn on top. Next to the door is a
stack of empty cardboard boxes that Remus probably intended to throw out and didn’t get around to
yet. The bed is rumpled and unmade – Sirius counts at least four pillows and three blankets, and
his smile stretches into a grin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

The door bangs open and Remus rushes in. Sirius turns around to face him and has to swallow hard.
He’s completely naked, apart from a very loosely tied towel around his hips. His hair is dark from
the water, combed back and offering a rare view of his forehead.

“I was a bit late,” he says apologetically, absolutely oblivious to the little gay panic he just induced
in Sirius, and walks over to rummage in his closet. “The class went overtime, and I didn’t have the
time to get clean… ugh, and then! Then one train was late, another didn’t even show up, I had to
take a longer route. Fuck the Deutsche Bahn, never on time…”

Sirius only half-listens to his babbling, he’s more concerned with the fact that he has to somehow
stop with the staring before Remus turns around, and that there is no way he will be able to
because A) Remus is almost naked, B) Remus looks absolutely sinful while almost naked, C)
Remus has tattoos.

Remus fucking Lupin has fucking tattoos. Fuck, fuck, fuck–

Sirius’ brain makes a static noise and refuses to function.

Remus turns around, a heap of clothes in his hands, and smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I’m talking
too much…” Sirius doesn’t know what his face is doing, but Remus cocks his head, and his smile
grows wider. “Are you okay?”
No, Sirius is definitely not okay, because Remus fucking Lupin has–

“You have tattoos.”

“Oh,” Remus says and turns around again, showing off his naked back, “yeah! You like them?”

Does Sirius like them? Ha fucking ha.

Over his neck and shoulder blades two large, black-inked wings fan out, the ends of the feathers
reaching down over the slope of his shoulders. And between them, going all the way down his
spine is a tattoo of different moon phases. Sirius watches how a stray drop of water rolls down from
Remus’ nape and over his skin. He swallows again.

“I like them,” Sirius hears himself say dazedly. “I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

Remus turns to face him again and nods. “I don’t think any of them are visible most of the time.”

Yeah, Sirius thinks, only when you’re naked…

“I have some more,” he announces, and Sirius doesn’t think he can survive to see more ink-covered
skin on Remus’. He lifts an arm and points to his ribcage where a thin line of scrips wraps around
his rib.

Sirius takes a step forward to be able to read it, feeling all kinds of flustered and aroused by the
proximity to an almost-naked, freshly-showered, ink-covered Remus. He smells like his soap,
something heavy and spicy. Ginger? Cinnamon? Sirius doesn’t know. He just knows he wants to
fucking eat him, and it barely has anything to do with how nice he smells.

“Ah, of course,” Sirius says, making out the writing.

Wer nicht wagt, der nicht gewinnt. Nothing ventured, nothing gained – Remus‘ life motto,
apparently. Forever marking his skin.

“I know,” Remus says, “a bit cliché.”

It’s not cliché, Sirius thinks, it’s just very you.

“I like it,” Sirius says and looks up at Remus’ face again.

Somehow, he only remembers taking one step closer, but now they are almost face-to-face, right in
each other’s personal space. It’s not the first time Sirius has been next to him like that – sitting, or
walking – but it’s still different.

They look at each other in silence for a moment, and Sirius doesn’t know what is happening,
doesn’t know what he wants to happen, but it’s like a magnetic pull. Just one more second and they
will–

“There’s two more,” Remus says and laughs, breaking the spell. Sirius blinks a couple of times and
follows his motion to look at his legs.

He exhales. And then bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God, no!”

Remus laughs with him and shrugs. “I can explain!”

“Please do!” Sirius rubs his forehead and shakes with laughter.

There, above Remus’ knees, is more writing. In English this time. One says ‘this leg’ and the other
says ‘NOT this leg’ in a messy, a bit smudged script.

“Okay, hear me out!” Remus grins again. “I was twenty, and I had this accident involving a stolen
shopping cart and a street sign – long story!”

Sirius can almost imagine how that story goes…

“Anyway, my left knee got fucked, and I had to have surgery on it to put in some metal,” he
continues and huffs. “I never had surgery before, and naturally, I started researching. And I read so
many horrible stories from people whose doctors somehow mixed up their arms or legs.”

“Does this really happen?” Sirius asks incredulously.

Remus shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe not. But I was so afraid that they would mess up my other
knee as well! So, I decided I had to give them… How do you say it in English? Help?.. A cheat
sheet!”

Sirius snorts and shakes his head. “A marker wouldn’t have done the job? Now you have
permanent tattoos.”

“I might have been very drunk, and my friend might have owned a tattoo gun,” he admits easily. “I
mean, it makes for a great story! Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees. “What if you have to have surgery on the other leg someday? That would
probably cause confusion.”

“Hm.” Remus purses his lips in thought. “I think that friend still has the tattoo gun. I might just
cross out the ‘NOT’ and add it on the other leg. That would work, no?”

Sirius smiles and nods. “Sure, that works,” he says, not at all surprised by all of this.

Remus Lupin, a mind-boggling mix of a mysterious sex God, and a silly kid with no impulse
control.

“Do you have tattoos?” Remus asks curiously.

Sirius smiles at him and quirks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

With a smile, Remus bites his lip, making his dimples appear even more prominent and says, “I
would.”

Feeling a bit nervous, Sirius unzips his jacket and untucks his shirt to lift it up. He watches how
Remus’ eyes widen and he takes a surprised breath, leaning down a bit to take a better look at the
tattoo that covers almost half of Sirius’ stomach, all the way from his hip to his ribs.

“Oh, wow,” Remus whispers and reaches out a hand to trace the thin outlines. “It’s beautiful.”

Sirius knows his tattoo well, has seen it thousands of times over the many years he’s had it, but the
visual of Remus’ long fingers ghosting it and the feeling of the warm touch against his stomach
makes his chest clench.

It’s a drawing of a hand, just the general outlines, holding a cigarette casually. The smoke curls up
lazily to Sirius’ ribs where it expands into a black, foggy sky, only the constellations creating
negative space in the dark ink. It’s the Leo constellation, for Regulus, Andromeda for his cousin
and himself – the Canis Major. The only true family he has.

“Thank you,” Sirius says softly.

Remus straightens back up, taking his hand away almost reluctantly, and smiles. “I am surprised,”
he admits. “A cigarette?”

Sirius huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Why surprised?”

“I thought you didn’t like smoking,” Remus says then.

“Huh.” Sirius looks at him quizzically. “Why would you think that?”

“I…” Remus looks at him, a bit shy even, and shrugs. “I offered you one and you said no… And
then– I don’t know, I got the impression you didn’t like that I was smoking.”

It feels like it was a lifetime ago, that night Sirius went to Remus’ club on a whim, not knowing
what it would do to his life. How things would change from getting to know Remus then.

“I quit smoking a while ago, yes,” Sirius says and laughs. “I never said I didn’t like it when others
smoke around me though. I enjoy it quite a bit, actually. Some passive smoking is as much as I’ll
allow myself now.”

Remus hums and chews on his lip in thought.

“Is that why you didn’t smoke around me anymore?” Sirius asks, amused. “Because you thought I
didn’t like it?”

It’s actually very sweet. Who knew Remus had such a considerate side to him, amongst all the
bluntness and unhinged prodding? He seemed more of a ‘deal with it’ kind of person.

“Yeah,” Remus says and smiles. “I guess I was wrong… Okay, then.” He looks down at the
clothes in his hand as if remembering what he was initially about to do and huffs. “I better get
dressed now.”

Sirius doesn’t know if he wants to agree or object, but Remus is already through the door –
probably to change in the bathroom, relieving Sirius of the inevitable heart attack that would follow
if Remus decided to discard the last piece of fabric that held Sirius’ brain together in front of him.

He comes back shortly after in black jeans and a green sweatshirt with a large sunflower print on
the front. His hair is almost dry now, curling adorably and falling over his forehead. It’s true, then,
he really does simply look like that without any effort.

“I like your room,” Sirius says with a smile and motions around them. “That’s a lot of plants you
have here.”

Remus looks around, as if seeing his room with new eyes, and laughs openly. “Um, yes, I can see
that,” he says and shakes his head. “I swear I don’t know how this happened! It started out like a
fun little thing, just some easy to care for plants to liven up the space, and then somehow all of my
friends decided that I was a plant lover. Now everyone gifts me plants and flowers and I don’t
know how to stop it!”

“Do things always just happen to you?” Sirius asks slyly, channelling his own bluntness.
Remus looks at him weirdly, his mouth curling on one side slowly. Yeah, how about some taste of
your own medicine, huh?

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“You know what I mean.” Sirius doesn’t know what he means.

He frowns. “I… guess. Most things just sort of happen to me.”

“And how is this working out for you?” Sirius asks sweetly.

Remus narrows his eyes and then grins. “You happened to me,” he says smoothly. “I think I’m
doing pretty well.”

It makes Sirius’ breath hitch. Sometimes Remus says things intentionally, and sometimes he just
drops shit like that and Sirius struggles to process it, however innocent it may be. He regrets asking
in the first place, he would never win a game Remus invented.

What would Remus say in his place now? Probably throw out some form of fortune cookie
wisdom.

“Some things happen, and some things have to be worked for,” Sirius says, just to say something.

Remus looks seriously at him, his grin gone. “What if I don’t want to work for things?” he asks,
and there is something almost dark in his tone.

“Then you haven’t found things worth working for yet,” Sirius suggests.

They look at each other for a long moment, silence coiling in stretching between them like a snake
ready to strike. Then Remus breaks. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

Sirius grins. “Yes, I think I’m pretty clever.”

“Fine,” Remus relents and smiles. “Point taken.”

“You’re keeping score?” Sirius asks, amused.

His smile grows wider, more playful. “Yes.”

“How is it?”

“Seven to four,” Remus says smugly. “I’m winning.”

Sirius files it away for a later time when he will undoubtedly struggle to fall asleep before he
manages to figure out what got him these points.

“Oh, don’t underestimate how competitive I am,” Sirius advises with a grin. “It’s not over yet.”

Remus grins back, eyes full of mirth. “Is it ever?”

Sirius gives him an unimpressed look. “I hope you’re not counting that as a point for yourself. That
was weak. I won’t accept that.”

“Ugh, fine,” Remus drawls in mock-annoyance. “I shouldn’t have told you. It was way more fun
when you didn’t know.”
 Sirius narrows his eyes at him. “Was it really? Do you enjoy playing with people who are
oblivious? Does it give you an illusion of control?”

Remus freezes, eyes fixed on something behind Sirius’ shoulder, and exhales slowly. Then he
looks Sirius in the eyes and swallows.

“Seven to five,” he says flatly. “You really are clever.”

Sirius hums thoughtfully, elation bubbling up inside of him. “Tell me, Remus, are you afraid of not
being the cleverest person in the room?”

“Enough,” Remus says harshly, stunning Sirius into silence.

Without warning, he takes two big strides and stops right in front of Sirius, looking down at him.
His eyes are burning intensely behind his glasses, making him look like a mythical creature in the
soft light of the setting sun outside. He lifts a hand and drags his knuckles over Sirius’ cheekbone.

“You said to not underestimate you, now I understand,” he says seriously. “But you have to be
gentler, Sirius. Allow some time for self-reflection.”

Then, just as quickly as he came, he leaves, creating space between them and opening the door to
his room. “Seven to six,” he says. “Now let’s get drunk. I need that right now.”

Sirius doesn’t know what just happened. But his cheek still burns with the ghost of the fleeting
touch, and a sickening mix of fear, excitement and longing spreads in his chest like wildfire.

He might have underestimated Remus Lupin as well.

Chapter End Notes

Modulor is a real shop, by the way. Go check it out if you're ever in Berlin and are
even slightly interested in arts and crafts!
Ja - Yes
Dein Stecher ist hier - Your lover/squeeze (quite a rude version of it, actually) is here
Halt's maul - Shut up
Deutsche Bahn - the German train company, mostly known for inter-city-travel but
they also own the S-Bahn (basically the overground trains) in Berlin so it's part of the
public transport along with the BVG (who owns the rest like the underground and
busses). They are notorious for being late, it's a running joke.

We're going somewhere, friends! Is it getting hotter in here? Come scream at me in the
comments about it :D
 Landwehrkanal shenanigans
Chapter Notes

Yay, some more of Remus' background and a glimpse into the Berliner mentality. I
hope you enjoy!
As usual, the explanations are in the chapter end notes.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Koks ist so in wie nie, genau wie freier Sex (Cocaine is as in as ever, just like free sex)

Polygam, ohne Plan, Berlin hat kein Einzelbett (Polygamous, without a plan, Berlin has no single
bed)

Mit anderen Worten ist es wie in den Sechzigern (In other words it's like the sixties)

Twitter ist der Club für die Zyniker und Skeptiker (Twitter is the club for the cynics and sceptics)

Ich friere in meinem Atelier, während auf der Staffelei (I freeze in my studio while on the easel)

Die Leinwand steht mit dem Großporträt von meiner Zeit (The canvas stands with the large portrait
of my generation)

– Prinz Pi, Moderne Zeiten

Remus was still an enigma to Sirius. He thought that if he was to get to know him better, he would
gradually make more sense of him. That he would find the string connecting all these pieces and
finally figure out how someone like Remus could exist.

Instead, he got more questions than answers every time they spoke.

Remus was easygoing – easy to talk to, easy to spend time with, easy to amuse. He was
spontaneous and reckless – ready to act if an opportunity presented itself, not afraid to take risks.
He was honest and had a confusing ability to get to the core of the problem in a matter of seconds.
He was funny and witty, able to see things most people just walked past without noticing.

But there was another layer to him as well. Another side. He was reckless, but not careless. He was
attentive and blunt, but not unintentionally – he knew what he was doing very well. He seemed
happy and unbothered most of the time, but there was something darker underneath it. An almost
frantic need to feel things – borderline dangerous activities for the kick of adrenaline, a constant
urge to do something. He was like a compressed spring, eager to move and relieve the tension
inside. He was confident and sure of himself, but behind the bravado seemed to lay a whole bunch
of insecurities.

Which ones, Sirius was only starting to see as time went by.

It was still not clear how he could combine so many seemingly contradicting traits. Sirius wanted
to take him apart, peel off all the layers and see what was inside. Witness all the pretences slide off
him like a second skin to admire the naked truth of who Remus Lupin really was, something he
only managed to get little glimpses of so far.

After that intense conversation in his room, Remus takes Sirius outside. The sun is setting now, but
the streets are full of people – talking, sitting on benches outside of Spätis, zooming around on
bikes and rollers, gathering in groups at the underground stations.

“Do you like ramen?” Remus asks as they walk down the riverside of the Landwehrkanal.

Sirius does like ramen, to Remus’ delight, and they eat dinner at a restaurant there. It’s a tiny place,
all dark wood and heavy, elevated tables with bar stools. The room inside is full of guests – it’s
peak dinner time – but Remus manages to find two empty seats at the back, smiling and chatting to
the people next to them.

They are tucked away in a corner, right next to a window that looks inside the restaurant kitchen.
Sirius watches, fascinated, how a stern-looking cook prepares huge batches of homemade noodles
for the soups. When he looks back at Remus, he’s watching Sirius in turn with a soft smile.

“I used to come here with my sister all the time,” he says and motions to the window. “She loved
watching them make the food. Said it somehow made the food taste better than sitting anywhere
else.”

Sirius smiles back at him, happy to hear Remus share something so personal. “What a coincidence
that these seats were still free.”

Remus grins. “Ach, I love when things work out like that,” he says, not for the first time since
they’ve met. This must be some every-day-magic that follows Remus, maybe an expression of
exceptionally good karma, or just a gift of the universe. He did say that he liked to talk to it
sometimes. Maybe this was the way of the universe to talk back to him.

“Is this restaurant special?” Sirius asks.

“Not particularly,” Remus answers with a shrug. The food arrives and he smiles at the middle-aged
lady who serves it. She smiles back and pats his shoulder as if they know each other well. “I grew
up here. This is my home.”

Sirius’ chest aches beautifully. Because Remus suggested to show him around, to eat here. Sirius
thought it was just the neighbourhood he lived in now, completely forgetting that Remus was
actually from Berlin. He must’ve stayed here all his life, even after moving out.

“You have a community here,” Sirius says. He had no community anywhere, a nomad even in his
home country – first with the boarding school, then university, after that he moved districts in
London uncaringly for jobs. And now he was here, in Berlin, where he didn’t even speak the native
language.

“Yeah,” Remus agrees and laughs. “The Kiez culture is very prominent in Berlin. If you find a
place you like, you tend to stay there as long as you can. This is just the way Berlin as a city
works.”

The ramen tastes great and warms Sirius to the core. Or maybe it’s the sound of Remus’ laughter,
the way his dimples look in the dim light of the restaurant, the way his foot sometimes bumps
against Sirius’ underneath the high table. He seems to be dangling his legs, like a kid. It’s adorable.

Sirius nods. “I noticed that. Everything is so… decentralized.”

Remus smiles fondly. “Berlin developed out of a union of different small villages. They all had
their own centres. It stayed like that for the most part, just historically.” He grimaces. “Well, and
then there was the division of Germany after the second world war. Berlin was split in two. The
differences are still big.”

“I like it,” Sirius decides. “It feels like Berlin is many different cities instead of just one big one.
And there is so much history here.”

“I’m glad you think this way,” he says. “I feel like most foreigners, especially from bigger cities,
don’t really appreciate the beauty of having these small clusters.”

Sirius thinks about it. “Maybe because having one city centre would be more convenient? Just
logistically. Like in London, you have Oxford Street – if you need to buy things, you’ll find
everything there.”

Remus hums in thought. “But isn’t it better to have the shops all around the city? That way you
don’t have to leave your neighbourhood at all if you don’t want to. It’s quicker.”

“I’m not arguing with you,” Sirius says and lifts his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying that’s what
other people might think. I like it this way, it has more character.”

With an amused grin, Remus takes a sip of his drink. He ordered some sickly-sweet Japanese soda,
making an absolute ass of himself when opening it and almost spilling the whole thing over
himself and their table neighbours. It shouldn’t be so cute, but it is. Sirius suppresses a smile.

“So, you’re one of the staunched Berliners who will fight to their death about Berlin being the best
place in the world?” Sirius asks.

“Hell yeah,” Remus says enthusiastically and salutes Sirius with his bottle. “It is the best place in
the world.”

“Have lived in many other places before, have you?” Sirius asks slyly. Not because he necessarily
disagrees, it’s just fun. He has fun. Remus is fun to bicker with.

Remus leans forward and looks at him with a cocky expression. “Why would I want to live
anywhere else if I can live in Berlin ?”

Sirius laughs and shakes his head. “You never thought about moving?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Remus relents. “At one point I toyed with the idea of going to Paris, but it
was never that serious.”

Sirius thought about Paris as well, not too long ago. He smiles at the similarity and then bursts out
laughing, suddenly realizing what Remus said. “I love how when I said ‘moving’ you instantly
thought of another country, and not another city in Germany.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Remus says and laughs as well. “Never in a million years would I move to another
German city. Forget it. Why downgrade so drastically?”

It was hilarious how Remus ticked off all the self-centred Berliner stereotypes. He was obviously
joking, humouring Sirius, but there was definitely a kernel of truth to his words.

“All the people from München are readying their pitchforks now,” Sirius muses.

Remus scoffs. “They can fuck off as well. Bavaria is not even Germany.”
“Huh?”

He just waves a hand and laughs. “It’s an inside joke, don’t worry about it. Bavaria is just
historically always doing its own thing.”

Sirius shrugs. Then smirks. “So, another country then, if at all?”

“Yep.”

“You know which city is way cooler than Berlin?”

Remus looks at him with a fair amount of suspicion. “Go on.”

“Vienna.”

He sets down his drink with too much force and scoffs so loudly that the other guests at their table
turn to look at him. He shakes his head in disappointment and pretends to leave the table. “You
know what. It was nice knowing you. This was the last straw.”

Sirius laughs so hard, he almost slides down from his barstool.

“Vienna,” Remus repeats and scoffs again, affronted. “Fucking Berlin wannabes.”

***

After they have finished their dinner, Remus takes Sirius on a walk along the waterside. He waves
to a group of twenty-somethings that stand to the side of a Späti, apparently knowing some of
them, and laughs about something they yell at him. Sirius watches the exchange with a warm
feeling in his chest. He has seen Remus interact with others before, obviously, but it is different
today somehow.

Remus is at home here; this is something like his own little village. He points out shops and
restaurants to Sirius, talking about what used to be there before, or telling a funny story from his
childhood connected to it. He exchanges greetings with a man at a Döner shop, who leans out of
the window and hands him a piece of falafel randomly – Remus accepts it eagerly, popping it in his
mouth like candy and grinning around it. He has been going there since he was a child, he explains.

Sometimes he stops at street signs or lampposts and peels off stickers, seemingly at random,
leaving others where they are. When Sirius asks why, he grimaces and explains that there are still
neo-Nazi groups going around and placing their stickers everywhere around the city – peeling them
off or covering them with other stickers is a quiet war that goes on constantly in most
neighbourhoods in Berlin.

He helps a mom with a stroller down a set of stairs, chatting to her in a friendly way. They don’t
seem to know each other but he does it anyway. Maybe after a while, they will get to know each
other naturally. This is how it works, isn’t it? Small friendly gestures over a longer stretch of time –
this is how connections are made.

When a stray cat peeks out of a bush, Remus leans down to stroke it and the cat comes out to rub
all over his ankles, probably not for the first time. He scratches it behind the ear and laughs
happily when the cat flops on its back to let him stroke its belly. Sirius doesn’t know much about
cats, but this is a sign of trust if he ever saw one. He feels like that cat sometimes as well when
he’s around Remus.

It’s the biggest insight in his life Sirius has had until now. It feels a little bit like he’s prying but
Remus doesn’t show any reluctance in including Sirius into his little routine.

He tells him how he knows the people, even shares funny stories. Sometimes his sister appears in
some of them, sometimes he mentions his parents. Sirius drinks up the new information eagerly,
almost physically feeling like Remus is starting to bloom in his mind – a full, rounded person with
history, friends and family.

He introduces Sirius to a guy that leans against a wall, alone. Sirius eyes him suspiciously – he
looks like he is most definitely dealing with drugs. But Remus tells him that this is Tobi, a boy he
went to kindergarten with. And Tobi smiles kindly and shakes Sirius’ hand before exchanging
some friendly words with Remus in German. As they leave again, Tobi pats Remus’ shoulder in a
brotherly way.

He guides Sirius’ hesitant hand towards the shaggy dog of an old grandma sitting on a bench near
the water. She’s looking a bit grim but as soon as she sees Remus approaching, her wrinkly face
lights up and she starts fussing over him in German. Remus laughs and smiles and pats her shaking
hand. She’s been his neighbour since he was a baby, he explains to Sirius, and when he introduces
her to Sirius, she smiles at him too and pats his cheek.

Sirius has never felt so grateful for something before. This was the exact thing he always missed –
a home. People knowing you, feeling like you belong somewhere, having life-long friends. He
doesn’t know whether every Berliner feels like Remus does in their little part of town or this is just
another symptom of Remus being an incredible person, but he sincerely hopes so. Witnessing a
tiny slice of it, being included even if just for an evening, feels soothing. Incredibly saddening, but
soothing. Remus is like the sun, even standing next to him is enough to feel the warmth.

Once again, Remus shows Sirius something amazing that he will then miss for the rest of his life.
Or until he finally finds a place to settle down like that. Maybe it will be in Berlin too.

“I am not feeling beer today,” Remus announces, opening the door of a Späti for Sirius and
walking inside behind him. “How about wine?”

The shop is small but stocked to the brim with drinks of all kinds and an array of snacks. The guy
at the counter greets Remus as they walk in and when they come to pay for the wine Remus has
selected, he has already laid out a pack of cigarettes for him. Apparently, this is Remus’ favourite
spot for buying them if the owner knows his usual order already.

“Do you wanna stay here?” Remus asks as they walk back out, motioning to a couple of small
tables. “Or do you want to sit by the water?”

Sirius thinks about it. “By the water sounds fun.”

Remus grins at him happily. “I agree!”

He leads Sirius down to the canal again. The street next to it is brightly lit, but when they step over
a small fence and walk down to the edge of the wall, the orange light is dimmed by the thick
bushes behind them. It’s properly dark now and the water is glistening with the reflection of the
moon and the faint city lights. All around them are also groups of people sitting at the water, their
chatter sounding like a calming murmur in the darkness.
Remus sits down cross-legged and fumbles with the wine bottle. “Oh,” he says and laughs,
showing Sirius the neck. “Who thought that cheap wine like that would have a cork and not a screw
top?”

Sirius is already debating whether they should go back to the Späti – the owner probably has a
corkscrew he could lend them – but Remus just shrugs off his jacket and wraps the bottle with it
carefully before banging it lightly against the ledge they are sitting on a couple of times. Sirius
watches, dreading the mess that will ensue when the bottle inevitably breaks, but after a while, the
cork actually moves out of the neck.

Remus grins and pulls it out the rest of the way with his teeth before handing the bottle over to
Sirius. “There you go.”

Sirius huffs, amazed, and shakes his head. This guy… Never in his life would Sirius have thought
that opening a wine bottle could be so hot.

“Sometimes you do things that just can’t work out, but for some reason, you always manage to pull
them off.”

Remus laughs. “I’m a barman, there is no bottle I couldn’t open with bare hands,” he says smugly.

It’s probably true, he does have nice hands – big, with long fingers and clearly protruding veins
snaking their way along the back and hiding inside his sleeves. Sirius tries not to think too hard
about what else these hands could do.

“Yeah,” Sirius says with big eyes and takes a sip right out of the bottle. “Sure. I saw that at the
restaurant earlier.”

Remus groans. “It was foreign! That doesn’t count!”

“This is French wine,” Sirius reminds him with a grin.

“Pff.” Remus pouts a little and takes the bottle away from him. “Wine is wine. At this price, it may
very well be vinegar.”

Sirius chuckles. “It’s not that bad, actually.” He watches Remus take a big gulp and smiles. “Your
English is very good.”

“Thanks,” Remus says and huffs. “Yours too.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Yes. Because I’m from England,” he says acerbically. “How did you learn to
speak English so well?”

He spoke in a peculiar mix of proper British and stray American words, switching hilariously
between pronunciations as if unable to decide which accent to pick. He would easily say pretty
complicated phrases and then struggle to find the simplest words. Sometimes he would use the
language in a way that Sirius would have thought only someone whose mother tongue was English
could do, and then phrase sentences a bit clumsily – clearly trying to directly translate something
he would have said in German. It was fascinating.

Remus shrugs. “We start learning English very early in school. The quality of the education varies,
of course, but my teachers were all good. Also,” he says and grins, “I was trying really hard to
impress that American girl.”

Something uneasy settles in Sirius' stomach. If he was honest with himself, it was probably a faint
shadow of jealousy, peppered with hesitant disappointment. Which was silly, of course. Sirius has
had many relationships before. Many relationships with women. Why would Remus be different?

“Aha,” Sirius drawls, “did it work?”

“Yeees,” Remus confirms smugly.

He eyes Sirius carefully and pulls out the pack of cigarettes he bought together with the wine as if
still unsure whether he was allowed to smoke next to him. Sirius makes an inviting motion with his
hand and watches how Remus holds the fag between his lips and rummages in his pockets for a
lighter. The small flame illuminates his face minutely and Sirius hears the cigarette crackle when
catching fire in a way he hasn’t heard in a while. Remus takes a drag and lets the thick smoke curl
out of his mouth, inhaling it through his nose.

Sirius has to shake himself mentally to stop, stop, stop staring . God fucking damnit!

“How did that work out for you?” he asks, remembering what they were talking about, the question
almost an inside joke between them now.

He laughs and gives Sirius an exasperated look. “With me being gay? Not that well, I suppose.”

Well, if Sirius didn’t already strongly suspect it, now he has the definitive proof that Remus Lupin
is indeed gay. He will think about the implications of that later when he’s not fixed by his attentive
green eyes.

“I supposed not,” Sirius agrees with a grin. “What was the stupidest thing you did to impress
someone?”

Remus hums and shakes off some ashes by holding the cigarette between his thumb and middle
finger, snapping the pointer against it. The white flakes drop over the ledge and are carried away
by a gust of wind.

“Oh, I do a lot of stupid things to impress people,” he says with a loaded look, but his tone is
humorous. “Once I stole a street sign as a gift. He wasn’t that impressed…”

Sirius hums. “What sign was it?”

Remus doubles over, laughing, and Sirius quickly takes the bottle away from him before he can
spill it. “Dead end,” he presses out.

Now Sirius has to set down the bottle before he could spill it over himself from laughter. Oh God,
this guy was unbelievable. Stealing a street sign for someone as a gift? Only Remus would do
something like that. ‘Flowers? Nah, that’s boring. How about a street sign? Hm, which one should
I take? Yes, dead end looks nice!’ – a comedic genius.

“That was probably the reason why,” Sirius says, calming down. Then starts laughing again at the
absurdity of it. “Fuck, only you could do something like that. What did you expect him to think of
a dead end sign as a gift?”

Remus wipes his cheeks, still laughing a little. “I guess I didn’t think this through,” he admits.
“What would have been a better sign?”

Sirius sighs and purses his lips in thought. “Definitely not a stop sign.”

“Depending on what you want to say,” Remus corrects him. “Great break-up strategy.”
They laugh again and Remus buries his face in his hands, shaking all over. The cigarette between
his fingers wavers dangerously and Sirius eyes it, afraid that Remus might catch his hair on fire.

“No U-turn!” Sirius exclaims in sudden epiphany. “That’s a good one!”

Remus chuckles and says, lowering his voice theatrically, “There is no way back for you!”

“You’re stuck with me!” Sirius replies, matching his tone.

They smile brightly at each other, and Sirius has to almost force himself to break the eye contact
and focus on the slow movement of the water in front of them. He feels a bit cold, the wind picking
up a little, and he misses the warmth of the sun, but he wouldn’t dare suggest leaving. He can turn
into an icicle for all he cares, as long as he can make Remus laugh like that for a bit longer.

“What were you doing today?” Sirius asks, remembering their conversation on the phone. “You
said your hands were dirty? And that you had a class?”

“Oh, yeah.” Remus nods. “I was doing… Ugh, I forget how it’s called. Like, ceramics?”

Sirius gapes at him. “You do pottery?”

“Yes, pottery!” he exclaims and snaps his fingers. “I’ve been doing it all my life.”

“Really?” Sirius asks, surprised. “You take classes or something?”

Remus smiles and plays with his shoelaces, suddenly going a bit quiet. “No. My mom, she used to
have a small workshop. She made and sold vases and stuff… At the shop and on markets
sometimes.” He sighs. “I sort of grew up with it, and now I still do it like once or twice a week.
And I sometimes teach pottery classes.”

Sirius feels like another puzzle piece in his infinity-piece puzzle of Remus Lupin has slotted into
place. He would have never thought that Remus would be doing pottery of all things. That would
explain the dirty hands.

“So, you’ve visited your mom today?” Sirius asks. “Does she still have the workshop?”

“No,” Remus replies and shrugs. “It’s a different one. From a friend of hers. She lets me do stuff
and use the oven for free if I take over the classes for her once in a while.”

Sirius watches him, unsure whether he should try to continue that particular conversation. Remus
wasn’t dismissive per se, but the atmosphere shifted a little bit. Maybe he wasn’t on good terms
with his family anymore, and God knows Sirius can relate to that.

“What sort of stuff do you make?”

Remus smiles at him sheepishly. “Ach, it’s nothing. Mostly just weird vases or bowls. A lot of the
time I don’t even burn them, just mash it up and start over. It’s… you know, calming? Doing
things with my hands. Not having to think.”

Sirius feels inexplicably sad. He gets the implication easily, and even though he knows that it’s not
how life works, he would very much like for someone like Remus to be unbothered by bad
thoughts. He shouldn’t think so much that he’d have to distract himself from it so often. He should
be happy all the time.

“I get it,” Sirius says sympathetically. “I do that with running. Helps me clear my head.”
“Yes!” Remus grins at him. “You started running! How is it so far?”

Sirius huffs. “Wonderful. I don’t have the feeling I have to throw up every time I finish anymore.”
He grins at Remus’ delighted laugh. “I used to run a lot, back in school and uni. Now I’m so out of
shape.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “You’re in great shape, Sirius,” he murmurs. “Why running? Why not
literally anything else? I bet anything is better than running.”

“Because, apparently, I’m a stubborn masochist,” Sirius reminds him. “Actually, I played team
sports before. But running is just easier now.”

“Oh.” He raises his eyebrows. “What sports?”

“I played football–“

“Yeah, who didn’t?” Remus says, amused.

“And lacrosse.”

“Excuse me?” The expression on Remus’ face is a mix of scandalized and surprised. “Lacrosse?”

Sirius laughs. “Yeah. Go OULC!” He holds up a fist in solidarity with his old lacrosse club.

“Oh my God,” Remus groans. “I would pay real money to see you play lacrosse.”

“I’ll take you up on that if things get tough at work,” Sirius muses.

Remus eyes him curiously. “That bad?”

Suddenly remembering why he initially wanted to meet Remus, Sirius turns bodily to him and
grins. “Nah, I’m more than comfortable. But! Guess what happened today!”

He retells the conversation he had with Peter this morning and, just like he predicted, Remus is
absolutely ecstatic. He listens attentively and laughs in all the right places, his eyes full of mischief
and excitement. Sirius catches himself talking more than he would normally, expanding the story
with some funny remarks about Peter and the backstory of the company.

“You’re amazing,” Remus sighs and rubs his cheek, grinning widely. “I feel like a proud dad.”

Sirius chuckles. “It is all your fault,” he drawls. “I don’t know why I even did it. I don’t need the
money, I don’t even particularly want to do it for the company.”

“Because it’s fun,” Remus suggests. “Look at you! Fucking with your boss for shits and giggles. I
bet he’ll actually like what you make. Do you have ideas already?”

“None,” Sirius says and laughs. “Fuck, I really didn’t think this through. Now I’ll actually have to
come up with some design.”

Remus smiles at him warmly. “I mean, you are doing the marketing for them already. If anyone
knows what to do it’s going to be you.”

Sirius doesn’t actually feel that confident about it, but Remus does have a point. He’d have to
instruct a designer anyway if they were to hire someone else. Maybe it’s even easier to do it
himself in the first place.
“I’ll keep you updated,” Sirius promises.

Remus nods eagerly. “Yeah, definitely! Thank you for telling me.” He hesitates. “And for calling
in general. It was nice seeing you again.”

“Of course.” Sirius shrugs and takes another sip of the wine. “Anytime.”

The smile on Remus’ face could light up the whole city when Sirius hands the bottle over to him
again.

***

When Sirius gets back home, it’s well past midnight. He’s frozen to the bones – maybe it’s still a
bit early to spend all evening outside – but his insides feel fuzzy and warm with good food, heady
wine and the memory of Remus’ smile.

The hot spray of the shower washes over him and he just stands there for a while, arms wrapped
around his chest, and shivers until he feels warm enough. It has been one of the best evenings he
had in Berlin so far, and Sirius feels like he managed to get to know Remus better.

It was nice learning about his family and childhood, being introduced to some of his friends,
however briefly, witnessing Remus in his element. Leaving tonight was harder than it has ever
been before for Sirius, and he had the impression that Remus was just as reluctant to say goodbye.

When they finished the wine, Remus suggested walking around for a bit again. He got up and
offered Sirius a hand, frowning and grumbling at how cold his fingers were. With a grin, he rubbed
Sirius’ hand between his, singing ‘frictiooooon!’ in a silly voice. He was ridiculous. Sirius couldn’t
stop smiling.

They walked down the canal for a bit until they came up to a pedestrian bridge – Admiralbrücke,
Remus told him. It was like an outdoor party spot – lots of young people were milling about, music
sounding from speakers, laughter erupting from the different groups standing and sitting straight on
the ground.

“Rem!” a voice sounded next to them, and Sirius just about managed to take a hurried step back
before a whirlwind of long red hair basically jumped on Remus.

He laughed and spun the girl around a little, making her squeal. They exchanged some words in
German and Remus introduced her as Lily – a friend of his sister. Lily was tall and lanky, a
distressed denim jacket with colourful patches hanging off her bony shoulders, and she had a bright
smile that could challenge even Remus’.

She dragged them over to a group of people, all of them knowing Remus in some capacity already.
Sirius forgot their names instantly, but they were all friendly and welcoming, switching to English
seamlessly to not make him feel left out. Sirius didn’t know if it was Berlin, or Remus just attracted
good things, but he appeared to be constantly surrounded by the nicest people.

No one seemed to mind that it was a Thursday and pretty late already – as if workdays didn’t exist
when you were under thirty years old in Berlin. Sirius is pretty sure that they all stayed until the
morning, even after Remus and he left at some point. There was always something going on in
Berlin – some event, or party, or activity. Even if it was just sitting around on a bridge in
 Kreuzberg, drinking convenience store beer and listening to techno music.

Sirius has felt so incredibly lonely when he first moved here, and now he thinks that if he wanted
to, he didn’t have to be alone a single night anymore. He probably could have shown up there
alone, not knowing anyone, and just chatted people up randomly. And, for the night at least, he
would be included in whatever group he flocked towards.

It was crazy how much of Berlin just passed him unnoticed before Remus appeared in his life, and
Sirius wonders whether he would have ever seen the beauty that is life in Berlin if they didn’t meet
by chance that one frosty morning. If Remus would have been a bit less spontaneous and reckless.
If Sirius has had lost the last remains of his youthfulness already and didn’t indulge him.

Now, even after only a handful of weeks, he can’t imagine what it would be like to lose Remus. To
not have him show up at Sirius’ house and throw pebbles at his window, or kidnap him to God-
knows-where on a whim, or not be able to call him and invite him out whenever.

Maybe Sirius should do that more often from now on. Remus seemed genuinely surprised that
Sirius initiated contact, and even though it didn’t feel like that to Sirius, he can see why. All the
times they’ve met before, except for the night Sirius sought him out at the club, it was Remus’
idea. The last thing Sirius wanted is for him to feel like Sirius didn’t enjoy the time they spent
together. Didn’t desperately need it, not just out of general loneliness, but out of the uncontrollable
desire to be near Remus constantly.

Yeah, that wouldn’t do.

Chapter End Notes

Landwehrkanal - The river going through Berlin is the Spree, and Landwehrkanal is
a canal sprouting from it. It's quite long and has some beautiful spots to sit at or go on
walks, and you can go on boat tours there.
Späti - Just a reminder from chapter 2: Spätis are essential to the Berlin culture, and
they are 24/7 convenience shops that mostly carry drinks and snacks (but also things
like fresh veggies, toilet paper and anything else you might need in an emergency
when all shops are closed on Sundays). Some bigger ones have seating options and are
generally treated like a meeting spot to, for example, pre-game before a night out.
Kiez - Berlin has many different neighbourhoods, but a Kiez is way smaller than a
whole district. It's generally a walkable area around your home that is basically your
home base, and everything you need is there - grocery shops, doctors, smaller clothing
shops, public transport stations, parks, restaurants and so on. Just like Remus said, if
you find a Kiez that suits you, you may never want to leave it, it becomes your village
in the huge city. Everyone thinks their Kiez is the best, obviously.
München - Munich
Döner - A type of Turkish kebab that has become a Berlin staple. The shops are
everywhere, and people eat it all the time, it's basically the default meal if you can't be
bothered to cook or want something quickly. Berlin has the best Döner, fight me on it.
Admiralbrücke - A pedestrian bridge over the Landwehrkanal.

Because I know for a fact that I have some German readers, I just want to say that this
is in no way me throwing shade at any other German city (or Bavaria in general) or
Vienna! This is all good fun, I know that Berlin gets its own share of trash-talk in other
towns. And this whole Berlin-Vienna vendetta is just a joke, Vienna is a beautiful
place and I’m pretty sure the people there say the same thing about Berlin. Peace and
love, friends :)
 The one where Sirius realizes he’s an idiot
Chapter Notes

Oh God, guys, it's happening!

I wanted to preface this by saying that I've written literally hundreds of thousands of
words about wolfstar. And this chapter... This is it. This is The One. This chapter is
my most favourite thing I've ever written (along with The Lab's first Prague chapter).
You will see why :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Du bist die pure Unvernunft, wohnst in Villa Kunterbunt (You are pure recklessness, living in Villa
Colourful)

Du warst mal gutes Mädchen, ich war mal Untergrund (You used to be a good girl, I used to be
underground)

Du warst mal Königin von Kreuzberg in deinem blauen Kleid (You used to be queen of Kreuzberg
in your blue dress)

Mit Omas alter Perlenkette und den grauen Nikes (With granny's old pearl necklace and the grey
Nikes)

Wir saßen in der Schwärze, starrten ins Licht (We sat in the darkness, stared into the light)

Stundenlang Untergang, sprachen von nichts (Hours of sunsets, talking of nothing)

Schweigen ist Gold, unsere Küsse waren Platin (Silence is gold, our kisses were platinum)

Ich hab all die Jahre nur gewartet auf dich! (I've been waiting just for you all these years!)

– Prinz Pi, Die letzte Ex

“Hey!” Remus smiles brightly and waves, making Sirius pick up his pace a bit to meet him.

March slowly changed into April, firmly settling Berlin into spring, and the sun has made an
appearance again after days of heavy rainfall – now everything smells like wet earth and new
beginnings.

Following his resolution after that evening spent in Kreuzberg, Sirius made more effort to stay in
touch with Remus. When before they would just meet up, now they started texting more. Remus
wasn’t always the quickest to reply, having a slightly different sleep schedule than Sirius due to his
job, but it didn’t matter. Sirius enjoyed simply talking to him, feeling his heart rate spike every
time he got a notification on his phone.

One day he was doing his usual morning run before work and decided to take a slightly different
route, using this as an opportunity to get to know this part of Berlin better. He stumbled upon a
large green park area, hiding behind big residential buildings, and followed the path through it
until he emerged behind a huge dome. It was Berlin’s planetarium – an impressive, metal thing,
glistening in the early morning sun like an enormous disco ball. Sirius didn’t even know that there
was a planetarium in Berlin, but of course, there was.

Obviously, he wanted to go. Obviously, he instantly thought Remus would love it.

“Hi!” Sirius smiles in greeting and laughs a little in surprise when Remus, without a second
thought, leans over and hugs him.

They never hugged before. It feels nice. Remus’ chest is firm against his and he, thankfully,
refrains from typical manly back claps that are part of the etiquette to show everyone that a soft
activity such as hugging didn’t diminish their manhood. His palm just presses against Sirius’ spine
briefly and then he retreats again, leaving Sirius a bit flustered.

“I haven’t been here in forever!” Remus tells him with a huge grin and looks around. “It’s the
perfect time to go too. I should have thought about it first!”

Sirius grins, self-satisfied. The park area around the planetarium is planted with cherry trees, and
April really is the time to come here – the trees are in full bloom now, opening the white-and-
pink petals towards the sun and rustling in the breeze. The grass is covered in them like snow, and
the wind whirls the fallen petals around beautifully. All around them, people are taking pictures
underneath the trees and children are playing in the grass.

“I’m glad I beat you to it,” Sirius says. “You’ve been before?”

They start walking towards the entrance, following a stream of people inside. Remus nods. “Yeah,
ages ago, as a child. They do story readings here as well, like audio plays with children’s books,”
he explains with a soft smile. “My sister and I used to go all the time.”

Sirius can vividly imagine a small Remus, all green eyes and blond curls, zooming around the huge
hall like a rocket, excited to go to the show.

“Is she younger or older?” Sirius asks as they get in line to buy the tickets.

Remus hums. “Younger, but not much. Two years.”

Sirius smiles, wondering what Remus’ sister is like. Probably just as kind and vibrant as he is, and
he’s a bit afraid to meet her – Sirius doesn’t think he could handle more Lupins in one spot if they
are all like Remus.

“My brother is also two years younger,” Sirius offers.

Remus whips his head up, looks curiously at Sirius, and smiles. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a
brother.”

Yeah… Sirius doesn’t exactly talk about his family. Maybe he owes Remus at least a bit of it since
he shared so much with Sirius already.

“Regulus,” Sirius says and smiles. “He’s a big thing now, working as a lawyer for a famous
engineering company back in London.”

“Did he also go to Oxford?” Remus asks.

Sirius huffs a bitter laugh. “No, Cambridge. My parents thought I was… bad influence.”
Remus gapes at him, absolutely bewildered, and startles a little when it’s their turn to pay for the
tickets. Sirius had taken a look at the offered shows in advance and suggested going to a live
viewing of Berlin’s night sky where the currently appearing constellations were presented. Remus
agreed easily and Sirius wonders whether he was actually excited for that specific show or he
would’ve agreed to anything. Maybe going to the planetarium alone was fun enough for him, no
matter what was shown.

“Do you miss him?” Remus asks pensively when they get the tickets and go up to the hall.

It’s a huge circular room, completely dark, and the plush chairs are arranged in semi-circles
underneath the dome. When they sit down, the chairs recline into an almost horizontal position.
Sirius grins, anticipating the performance.

“Um… Not really?” Sirius catches Remus’ questioning look and sighs. “I don’t know how to
explain it. We are on good terms, he’s my little brother, I’m very proud of him and all. But… We
had a difficult childhood, and even though we’re independent adults now, we sort of… Remind
each other of it, you know?” He rubs his forehead tiredly, not really feeling like he’s making a lot
of sense now. “We’re there for each other if we need it, but we’re not in touch constantly. So, yeah,
I’m not in London anymore but I don’t think we would have seen each other much anyway.”

Remus listens to him patiently and then squeezes his hand encouragingly when he talks about his
childhood. Sirius smiles at him, a bit strained, but Remus doesn’t let his hand go – the touch a
warm presence grounding Sirius.

“Do you still see your sister much?” Sirius asks.

Remus glances at him briefly and shuffles in his seat, getting comfortable and letting Sirius’ hand
go in the process.

“No,” he says.

Sirius would have liked to hear more, but the dim lights in the hall go out completely and the show
starts.

***

“Do you want to get a drink somewhere?” Remus asks when they get out of the planetarium again.

It was breathtaking. Sirius has never been that interested in astronomy, despite his family’s
tradition of giving the children names of celestial objects, but he still enjoyed this brief glimpse of
it. It was a bit like a lecture – a speaker hidden from view, guiding the guests through the different
constellations, talking about the solar system and showing the different views of the sky in Berlin,
accompanied by background music that brought Sirius in some sort of trance.

Walking out into the sunlight was a bit of shock, even though the sun was already dipping behind
the horizon now, colouring Berlin’s streets in a gentle, pink haze.

“Sure,” Sirius agrees readily, not wanting to part so soon.

Remus grins at him and nods. “I know a place, you’ll like it. But it’s in Kreuzberg if you don’t
mind the ride.”
Of course, Sirius doesn’t mind. As long as he’s with Remus.

Remus chatters happily all the way to the bar, something about a friend of his that has gotten a dog
now – Sirius listens, but the words don’t really reach his brain. He hears them as if they come
through a fog, more interested in watching how Remus’ nose scrunches adorably when he laughs,
or the way he squints his eyes a little when he tries to read signs even though he has his glasses on,
or how he’s fidgeting absentmindedly with a thumb-ring he’s wearing today.

They sit next to each other on the underground, their sides pressed together from knees to
shoulders, and Remus laughs when the train jerks and makes him press even firmer into Sirius.

They’ve spent a lot of time together already, but Sirius still notices little things about him that are
new. Remus has two dots from ear piercings in his left lobe, but there are no earrings in them. He
chews on the little tag that hangs from the high collar of his jacket and grins at Sirius, a bit
embarrassed, when he catches himself doing it. There are four little moles on the back of his right
hand, building a perfect square if one was to connect them with lines. How did he not notice these
things before? What else was there to discover about Remus Lupin?

“It’s really cool!” Remus announces excitedly, opening the door to the bar for Sirius. “An
apothecary bar!”

Sirius looks around the almost empty room and raises his eyebrows in appreciation. It really does
look a bit like an apothecary – the interior is dark, with an accent wallpaper wall on one side. The
tables are glossy wood, leather chairs and couches around them. The bar itself looks incredible.
Behind the counter are high shelves that look like they belong in an old pharmacy; dusty, brown
glass bottles on them instead of normal liquor bottles.

They sit down at a window table overlooking the street and the barman comes over almost
instantly, bringing two menus with him. He smirks at Remus and swats his head playfully with one
of them.

“You again!” he says and Remus laughs, grabbing his wrist and trying to rip the menu out of it. “I
thought I banned you after last time!”

“You will never be rid of me,” Remus assures him with an evil smile. “I will haunt you forever!”

Sirius laughs a little at their exchange. This seems to be another place where everyone knows
Remus. The barman turns to Sirius and points a finger at him accusingly. “Not funny! You know
what he did? He convinced a group of tourists that they absolutely had to try the secret menu
items.”

“Are the secret menu items good?” Sirius asks curiously.

Remus throws his head back and laughs openly, earning himself another swat from the barman.
“There is no secret menu!” he says darkly. “They started throwing absolutely ridiculous names at
me, expecting some incredible cocktail creations.”

“God, I hate when that happens,” Remus sighs happily and giggles. “And then they get angry
because you don’t know what the fuck they want.”

“I had to come up with some weird mixtures on the spot,” the barman grumbles and sets the menus
down in front of them with a huff. “I hate you.”

Remus waves dismissively. “We don’t need these. We want the secre–“
“Don’t!” the barman warns, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t even say it. No. Pick a
cocktail and get lost.”

When they have ordered, a real menu item this time, Sirius levels Remus with an exasperated look.
“You’re a fucking menace to society.”

“Ow,” Remus whines and pouts. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

Sirius smiles, barely able to handle how cute he is, and sighs. It’s like every time they spent some
days apart, he somehow managed to forget how overwhelming it is to be near Remus. Not in a bad
sense, just in a way that makes Sirius’ chest clench.

Their drinks come out and Sirius gasps. Remus ordered some kind of fancy gin tonic, and it is
served in a small bottle that looks like a skull made out of clear glass. Sirius’ negroni is in a normal
glass, but the little tray it comes on is covered by a see-through dome where smoke is curling
inside. When he lifts it, the smell of burnt rosemary and sweet orange fills their table. This place is
not just some old bar, it’s a performance in itself, and he is equally impressed by the drinks as he is
by the giant smile on Remus’ face.

“This glass is so cool,” Remus breathes, turning the skull this way and that way in his hands. “I
wanna have it.”

Sirius stifles a laugh. “If you steal that glass, you will be banned for real, Remus.”

“I just might…” Remus muses, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“No, Remus, bad! Drop it!” Sirius laughs. “Besides, we’re like the only people here. He will
notice.”

Remus wiggles his eyebrows. “Fucking try me, bitch,” he drawls. “You are making this even more
appealing with every word you say.”

Sirius shakes his head in exasperation mixed with fondness so strong he has to bite the inside of his
cheek. Remus fucking Lupin…

“How are you like that?” Sirius asks with a sigh.

“Like what?” Remus asks curiously.

“The way that you are,” Sirius says, not even making sense to himself. “I don’t even have the
words to describe it. You’re like a force of nature. I don’t understand how you even exist.”

Remus laughs. “You make it out like I’m some mythical being,” he says with an eye roll. “I’m just
like everyone else.”

He couldn’t be more wrong, in Sirius’ opinion. Remus was decidedly not like everyone else.

“You’re just… so alive.” Sirius waves his hand vaguely and sips his drink. It coats his tongue
bitter-sweetly, a tang from the smoke clinging to the roof of his mouth. “You’re full of life… Ah,
whatever, don’t mind me, I’m talking nonsense. Forget it.”

Remus looks at him intensely for a long while, still fidgeting with the skull in front of him
absentmindedly. His perpetual grin fades into a barely-there smile. “I will tell you,” he decides.

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “Tell me what?”

“Why I am the way I am,” Remus says seriously. He looks down at his hands and bites his lip,
deep in thought. Sirius waits patiently, suddenly feeling jittery inside, as if sensing that something
important is about to happen. “It was three years ago,” he says finally.

Sirius notices that he’s actually holding his breath as if afraid that a sound or uncareful movement
could get Remus off-track.

“My parents planned a holiday. Nothing major, just a trip up to the sea, we did it often when we
were still kids but then less and less when we grew up.” He smiles bitterly. “You know, school,
then uni, going out with friends – my sister and I weren’t that interested in family activities
anymore. Me even less than her.”

The tone of his voice is something Sirius has never heard from Remus before. It’s bone-chillingly
sad. Sirius swallows dryly.

“Anyway, I refused to come. They asked me so many times and I really didn’t want to. So boring, I
thought. The sea is still freezing in June, my mom would just argue with my sister the whole time,
my dad would ask me all kinds of stupid questions… So, they went without me.” Remus looks up
at Sirius then. “There was a huge car crash on the Autobahn. A truck tried to overtake another
truck, uphill, and they crashed. Another five cars were involved as well, one of them was my
family’s.”

His eyes are dry, but there is an unhappy line at the corner of his mouth. Sirius looks at him, all
words escaping his mind, and feels frozen inside. “Did they–“

“They died,” Remus confirms easily. He looks over Sirius' shoulder and shakes his head a little,
lips curling into a pained smile. “I should have died as well.”

The way he says it is so matter-of-factly as if he’s telling Sirius about what he ate that day. It
stands in such striking contrast to his actual words that it shakes Sirius out of his shock.

“Remus… I am so sorry,” he says. “But you can’t say things like that…”

“No,” Remus interrupts him harshly. “You don’t understand. I should have died with them. I am
not supposed to be here. ”

It’s like something from a nightmare. Hearing Remus – beautiful, vibrant, happy Remus – saying
things like that. As if he wants to be dead.

“No, Remus,” Sirius urges, “you are. Please, don’t think like this.”

“I’m not suicidal if that’s what you think,” Remus says as if reading his mind. “Or at least not
anymore. I– It was rough. The first year was a fucking disaster. I felt so guilty… I dropped out of
uni, I couldn’t get out of bed anymore, and when I did, I just tried to forget. I went out, I drank, I
took drugs. I was completely gone.”

Every single thing he says stabs Sirius right in the heart. He feels like a giant stone has settled in
his gut.

“I don’t remember much of that year, to be honest with you,” Remus says then with an eyebrow
twitch. “My friends physically dragged me to a therapist.”

“Good.” Sirius nods. “It helped, didn’t it?”

Remus looks at him and laughs, a bit of his usual, easy contentment returning to his features
despite the topic. “Absolutely not. This woman was horrible,” he says in a clipped tone

Sirius frowns and sighs, feeling defeated. “I’m sorry it didn’t help…”

“Yeah,” Remus says and sighs as well. “But I guess it worked in some way. I understood that I was
the only one who could change something.”

What Sirius would have suggested is to try another therapist. Not that he had any authority on this
topic, but as far as he knew, it was pretty normal to ‘shop’ around until you found someone who
suited you. But he also doesn’t know how this sort of thing works with the German health
insurance, maybe it wasn’t as easy as it should have been.

“I thought: well, if I should actually be dead now, nothing I do makes any difference, you know?”
Remus continues, smiling again a little. “My existence is some… anomaly. I might as well do
whatever the fuck I want. And since then, I treat every day I get to wake up like a gift. The way out
is always there, I’m way overdue for it, so who cares?”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. And when they do, it’s like all lights suddenly turn on,
illuminating the little Remus Lupin figurine Sirius so meticulously pieced together in his head,
showing the whole picture.

He thinks about all the little things Remus said to him. Now, suddenly, they had a new, deeper
meaning behind them.

Remus, in the dark backyard of the club, fixing him with his green eyes. Do you always stay away
from doing things you want?

Remus, letting his eyes wander over Berlin’s skyline. This is my home. It’s everything I have.

Remus, lips and tongue bright-red from the lolly he bought on a whim, confused and amused by
Sirius’ attitude. Who told you grown men can’t have fun? Everything. Everything I do. It’s fun.

Remus, after listening to Sirius tell him about his underwhelming job. I want to understand you.
You make zero sense to me.

Remus, laughing at Sirius at the bar on his birthday after he told him he can’t just do whatever he
wants. Says who?

Remus, absolutely amazed by Sirius’ life story and bewildered by his torturous education. Wow. I
wish I could look into your brain sometimes.

Remus, hair glowing in the morning sun, convincing Sirius he should follow his dreams. Who said
anything about easy? It’s not. But it’s very simple. Just do it.

Remus, hair still a bit damp from his shower, something dark passing his features after Sirius told
him he should not just let things happen to him. What if I don’t want to work for things?

The way he talked about his family. Can I have the jacket back? It was a gift from my sister. I
used to come here with my sister all the time. My mom used to have a workshop, I still do it once or
twice a week. Do you miss your brother?

No risk, no fun.

Even Sirius could see that it was not healthy. The way Remus went about his life, taking every day
as if it was his last, thinking that he somehow cheated the universe, risking things because it didn’t
matter all that much anymore in his brain. This was an unhealthy way to live.

“Remus,” Sirius whispers. “I am so sorry that this happened to you. But you cannot think this way.
That you don’t deserve to be here.”

Remus smiles at him. “I don’t,” he says surely.

It breaks Sirius’ heart. He can feel his eyes stinging.

“How can you not see this?” Sirius shakes his head. “You, of all people, deserve to live.”

A tense couple of seconds pass in silence while Remus frantically searches Sirius’ face for
something. Then he exhales slowly. “I… know you don’t mean it this way. But when you say it
like that, it means that my family didn’t deserve to live.”

Sirius winces. “No, I really didn’t mean it like that…” He worries his lip a bit, frantically searching
for something to say. He knows, he knows he’s not being coherent, when he finally says, “You
know what? Why does it even have to mean anything? What happened to your family is horrible.
But it doesn’t mean that you are not supposed to be here. It’s not connected. Shit happens.”

Remus looks at him for a long moment, stunned, and then suddenly bursts out laughing. It’s not
hysteric or bitter. He’s genuinely amused. “Oh my God,” he presses out. “The way you described
my family dying as ‘shit happens’…” He starts laughing again and wipes his damp cheeks. “Fuck,
I love you.”

And this is the exact moment when someone in Sirius’ brain lifts the needle from the record player
of his thoughts with a loud scratch.

He swallows.

He breathes in and out.

He doesn’t hear anything.

He can see Remus continue talking as if nothing happened, his face still sporting an amused
expression.

As if he didn’t just–

“…way. And I think that I am actually better off now that–“

“Wait,” Sirius interrupts him. “Did you really just say you loved me?”

Remus stops talking then, and watches Sirius’ face attentively, a slow smile spreading on his lips.
“Yes. Why?”

Sirius shakes his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “What the fuck?” he asks, confused.
“What… How? Huh–?”

The smile on Remus’ lips turns cheeky. “Do you need a minute?”

This fucker. Remus fucking Lupin has not just–

“How can you love me?!” Sirius exclaims. “We… We haven’t– Wait. As in ‘Sirius, I love you as a
good friend’?”
Remus laughs. “As in ‘Sirius, I am in love with you’,” he says easily. “I’d ask you to marry me, but
I think you’d have a heart attack. And I don’t want that. Because I love you.”

Sirius thought it couldn’t get more confusing. Apparently, he forgot who he was dealing with.

“How can you just say it like that?”

Remus cocks his head curiously. “Because it’s true. And I felt like it. Why? Does it make you
uncomfortable?”

Sirius blinks at him. “Yes.” He blinks again. “No? I don’t know?!”

“Why is it uncomfortable?” Remus asks, feigning confusion, but there is a sly quirk to his lips. “If I
didn’t say it, it wouldn’t make it not true. Nothing has changed.”

“Umm, yes, yes it did?” Sirius says and exhales through his nose. “Now I know!”

“Would you prefer not knowing?” Remus asks and raises his eyebrows. “You were the one who
said you didn’t want to be oblivious. See, I listened to you. It was a smart thing to say.”

Sirius wants to slap himself. He’s pretty sure that this is just an absurd dream… What. The. Actual.
Fuck.

“But… How? We haven’t known each other that long!”

“Sirius,” Remus says, exasperated, “we’ve been dating for months. Why are you so surprised?”

Oh. Oh.

“This… was dating?”

Sirius frantically goes over every time they’ve met in his brain. The beers on the train tracks, the
still-cold sun setting in front of them, colouring everything in a red glow. The shopping trip, Remus
picking him up from work in a fancy car, choosing clothes for him to buy. Remus, throwing
pebbles at his window like the lead in a rom-com, asking him out to the cinema on his birthday.
The coffee and art supply trip, Remus coming over to see him even after a full night of work. The
night out in Kreuzberg, Remus taking him to his favourite spots, drinking wine from a bottle at the
waterfront. This. A show at the planetarium and fancy drinks afterwards.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…

Remus watches him figure it out with the brightest grin.

Sirius huffs and rubs his face. Embarrassed. Elated. Excited.

“It just occurred to me, that I am a fucking idiot…” Sirius groans. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You’re cute,” Remus says easily, not at all bothered by it. “I love you.”

Oh my God.

“You keep saying it…”

Remus smiles softly. “Should I stop?”

Sirius slumps in his seat, completely dumbfounded. “Yes. No? I don’t know?” He laughs a little at
himself. At the whole situation. “I didn’t even know you were interested… in that way.”

“I told you I liked you,” Remus says, confused. “I took you out. I held your hand. I showed you my
tattoos. How did you not get it?”

Yeah, how did Sirius not get it?

“We haven’t even kissed!” Sirius says accusingly.

Remus raises his eyebrows challengingly and points a finger at him. “And whose fault is that,
huh?” he asks, annoyed.

“Mine?!” Sirius asks, suddenly affronted. “How is that my fault?”

Remus frowns at him. “I told you, you could kiss me! At the very beginning,” he says. “And you
didn’t! I assumed you really didn’t want to, or whatever… I thought it was because of me
smoking… But then you said it was not it, so I didn’t know, maybe you had some sort of fluid
phobia.” He stops his rant, breathing a little heavier than normal, obviously very much bothered by
that topic. “It was your call to make, I made myself crystal-clear!”

Sirius stares at him, flabbergasted. All this time… All the moments when Sirius thought something
was ought to happen between them and then it didn’t… Because Remus was waiting for him to
make the first move. Even refrained from smoking, hoping that it would happen.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…

“I… see what you mean,” Sirius says guiltily. “I’m sorry. I don’t have fluid phobia. Or any other
phobias.”

Remus huffs, relaxing a little. “Okay. Good. I’m glad.”

Sirius takes a big ass gulp of his drink, trying to process all of this. Remus fucking Lupin… loved
him?

“Okay, I get that part. But still, how can you love me?” Sirius asks, not understanding. “We
haven’t kissed,” he recounts and then raises his hands, “I know, I know, my fault. We haven’t had
sex. How can you decide it like that?”

Remus raises his eyebrows, amused by his reasoning. “Do you always decide when to love
someone?”

Sirius takes a deep breath. “Fine. Eight to five. But still?”

He grins. “Does sex mean that much to you? That you would make it an imperative to falling in
love?”

Sirius points a finger at him threateningly. “Nine to five. Now stop it, I’m not in the mood for
games.”

With a defeated shrug, Remus stops his teasing and sighs. “Look. I love you, okay? However the
sex may be. Or not be , just to make this absolutely clear. I think we can make it work.”

It makes Sirius’ heart break again, for the second time today, just for very different reasons. He
learned so much about Remus now, about how his brain works, why he is like this. But he still
can’t comprehend how a person like him even exists.
 “Do you care so little about sex?” Sirius asks curiously.

Remus eyes him carefully. “I asked first.”

Sirius grins. “Fine. Yes, I do care about sex.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads on Remus’ face. Similar, but very different to his usual innocent
grins. Very different. “You made me very happy right now,” he says in a low voice. “I do care
too.”

A shiver runs down Sirius’ spine at the way Remus looks at him. He tries not to let himself be
swept away by it.

“What if I’m utterly shite at sex?” Sirius asks, amused. “You’ll regret saying that you loved me.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “I won’t,” he says confidently and then clicks his tongue. “Okay, I see that
you are hanging yourself up on that detail.” He pulls some bills out of his pocket and tosses them
on the table before getting up and reaching out a hand for Sirius to take. “Let’s find out then.”

Sirius swallows hard and watches Remus’ hovering hand for a moment. It hangs there, patient,
unwavering, inviting. Do you trust me?

He swallows and takes it, letting himself be hauled up. For fuck’s sake, yes, yes, Sirius does.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all for sticking around and going on this journey with me.
I am so very grateful for all of your support! If there ever was a chapter I absolutely
needed your feedback on, it is this one right here. Come scream at me in the comments
:)
 We ain’t ever going back to being friends
Chapter Notes

I mean, we all know where this is heading now, but in case you forgot: from now on
the Explicit rating is applicable ;)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Du hast die hohen Schuhe an (You've got the high heels on)

Und trägst deine Tattoos um die Schultern und den Hals wie ein seidenes Tuch (And you wear
your tattoos around your shoulders and neck like a silk scarf)

Ich bin verliebt wie ein Junge mit dem Bauch und darunter (I'm in love like a boy with his belly
and below)

Weiß unter deinem Kleid warten tausende Wunder (I know a thousand wonders wait underneath
your dress)

Meine Eltern haben gewarnt, meine Freunde geflucht (My parents warned, my friends cursed)

Doch die Schrift auf deinem Rücken ist mein heiliges Buch (But the writing on your back is my
holy book)

– Prinz Pi, Du bist

Sirius has done a lot of spontaneous, reckless, crazy things since he met Remus Lupin. None of
them felt as scary as this. Not because Sirius was scared of having sex. Or having sex with Remus
in particular. Actually, that sounded bloody amazing.

No, it was because Sirius was old enough to understand that sex was not just sex. There was so
much more hiding behind this activity. Feelings, power, ego, salvation. He was afraid of what it
would mean.

Because maybe, just maybe, Sirius knew there was more than just friendship between them. He
definitely felt the tension, the pull, the tenderness. They flirted, both of them. Maybe Sirius was
just afraid of how things would change if he was to force this relationship further.

The thing was, Sirius liked Remus very much. Not just because he thought Remus was hot, or fit,
or handsome. Remus was just a great person to be around. Sirius enjoyed talking to him, spending
time with him, sharing things with him. There might have always been something more there, but
they were also friends.

Friends don’t have sex.

In Sirius’ experience, sex tended to ruin things. It made things complicated, it disturbed the
illusion, it made things worse. Maybe he didn’t stay with any girl or woman he had been with
before, but he genuinely liked all of them. Sex ruined most of his relationships.
He doesn’t know what he would do if sex ruined Remus Lupin for him.

Because if he wasn’t so captured by Remus’ personality from the very beginning, he probably
would have kissed Remus there, in this dark backyard. He would have probably let things go
further on that same night. They would have had sex, and maybe they wouldn’t have seen each
other again, or maybe they would have. No one knows.

But the possibility of not having Remus around anymore was devastating to him, even back then he
wondered what he could possibly do to keep Remus from inevitably vanishing.

Maybe he was afraid that Remus would leave after getting his share of fun .

What he didn’t expect was that Remus would actually fall in fucking love with him . What the
fuck?

And the way he said it… Maybe if he said it differently, less casually, more dramatically, not
shortly after opening his soul about his family dying, Sirius wouldn’t have believed him at all.
Because Remus was a bit like that – spontaneous, reckless, always on the go. If he arranged some
sort of romantic thing and said it then, Sirius would have had doubts. He would have thought: he
loves you today, and tomorrow he suddenly loves someone else, or no one, or just not you .
Because another thing was suddenly more fun to him.

Someone who doesn’t actually mean it doesn’t let it slip in a situation like that. Sirius doesn’t think
Remus planned any of this. He probably just, for some reason, felt a wave of it and simply said it
on a whim. Because this is who Remus was as a person.

And the way he talked about sex… As if it was secondary, just a nice added bonus and not an
essential part of a relationship. Despite him clearly stating that he did care about sex. He was not
after fun this time, not in that sense. Sirius wonders how long Remus would have continued
almost-platonically going on dates with him if he didn’t confront Sirius with the reality of it today.

Remus stops in front of the door to his flat and gets out the keys. Sirius watches, surprised, how he
fumbles with them, then actually lets them drop, cursing in German through his teeth, then picks
them up to fumble some more.

Oh. Remus is nervous.

Sirius steps closer to him and puts a hand over his, the keys still clutched in it. It’s cold. And
Remus is never cold. He must really be nervous. Remus looks at their joined hands, stopping in his
tracks, and then lifts his gaze to look at Sirius’ face. His eyes are dark behind his glasses.

Sirius understands suddenly that a lot of Remus’ confidence is just bravado. Probably a mix of
‘fake it ‘till you make it’ and ‘fuck it, who cares’ attitudes. But he is still just a normal guy inside.

And this guy just opened up about his dead parents, confessed his love to an oblivious friend,
didn’t get any confirmation of reciprocation to it, even had to argue about the sincerity of his
feelings and fruitlessly debate the irrelevance of sex. And now was about to try and prove his point
to said friend who outwardly still seemed unsure.

Sirius’ heart clenches painfully at that realization. The last thing he wants is for Remus to have to
prove some point now of why Sirius should decide to be with him. He can’t even believe Remus
agreed to take on that kind of pressure. What a disaster.

“Hey,” Sirius says quietly. “Relax, okay.”

Remus lets himself be guided to face Sirius instead of the door, his expression unreadable. Sirius
sighs and lifts a hand to stroke over Remus’ cheek. “You always say you know already, and maybe
you do, but in case there was still any doubt left – I do like you. Very much.” Sirius smiles. “I think
you’re incredible, and beautiful, and hot as hell. And I do want to have sex with you, but this is not
some kind of test, yeah? Do you understand?”

He looks at Sirius silently, eyebrows raised and knitted together, and nods a little. Sirius can feel
the rapid beat of Remus’ pulse with his hand still cupping his neck.

“And I promise, I am not actually shite at sex,” Sirius adds and grins. “I have received good
reviews.”

Remus rolls his eyes and laughs, not looking so stressed anymore. “I bet you did. Did you hand out
review forms? ‘Estimate from one to ten how the service–‘”

“Shut up,” Sirius says with a laugh. “I will kiss you now.”

He leans forward then, having to tilts his head up in a fashion that is entirely new to him, and
presses his mouth to Remus’. It’s warm, and simple – just the pressure of their lips. And then
Remus breaks, a stifled sound escaping his throat, and grabs Sirius by the neck, pulling him closer,
opening his mouth eagerly, hungrily.

Sirius steps even closer, pushing Remus against the still unopened door, and his head spins
dangerously from the feeling of their tongues sliding together. He can feel his own heartbeat
picking up, blood rushing in his ears, and his lower stomach clenching sweetly.

Kissing Remus is very different to what kissing girls felt like. Sirius is not used to the reversed
height difference, to the firmness of his chest, to the faint scratch of stubble on his face. The
combination of it makes his whole body tingle, little bursts of adrenaline shooting into his fingers
like electrical zaps.

Remus kisses like he does everything. Effortlessly, attentively, without any doubts and with fierce
determination. He lets the keys drop to the floor uncaringly, and cups Sirius’ face instead, tilting
his chin, guiding him along, licking into his mouth greedily. It’s a battle for the lead Sirius hasn’t
experienced before with girls – he was always expected to be the dominant one. It’s not that he
didn’t like it before, but this was better. It was thrilling, exciting; it kept Sirius on his toes.

He lets his hand wander from Remus’ neck and into his hair, feeling the soft curls between his
fingers. And then he fists them, carefully at first, testing the waters, and then more firmly. Remus’
breath hitches audibly, and he lets out a low moan. Sirius grins into his mouth.

“Now open that fucking door,” Sirius says, letting him go and taking a step back. “Or we will
permanently disturb your neighbours.”

Remus looks at him, still leaning against the door. His cheeks are flushed, visible even in the
darkness of the staircase, lips wet and parted. He looks the epitome of temptation and Sirius can’t
wait to see more of it.

“Is your flatmate home?” Sirius asks when they finally step into the dark hallway of Remus’ flat.

“Markus?” Remus asks. “No, I think he’s out tonight.”

“What a coincidence,” Sirius drawls with a smirk.

Remus sighs happily and toes off his sneakers before walking determinately to his room. “I love
when things work out like that.” Then he turns around and gives Sirius a big smile. “Don’t be
mistaken though. I would have cared very little if he was here tonight. Just to be clear.”

The many plants in Remus’ room appear like nothing but dark shadows, the only light coming
from the window and balcony doors. Remus pulls out his phone, taps something on it and,
suddenly, multiple lamps light up – on his desk, the sideboard, at his bed. All of them glowing in
some shade of red. Sirius looks around, impressed by Remus’ elaborate smart-home-lighting.

“Oops,” Remus says apologetically and laughs, “wrong colour scheme!”

Sirius chuckles. “No, no, this looks a bit like a brothel that way.”

Remus laughs again and wiggles his eyebrows. “That’s a roleplay we can save for another time.”
He changes the lights to a normal yellow and clicks his phone off before tossing it uncaringly on
the desk, his full attention trained on Sirius again.

“Roleplay, huh?” Sirius asks suggestively as Remus crowds him against the wall and unzips his
jacket. “Kinky.”

Remus chuckles and rolls his eyes. “No, Sirius. You know how this works. Vanilla sex first, then
we can see about other things,” he says and pulls on his windbreaker, tugging it off over his head,
along with the shirt underneath.

“Efficient,” Sirius remarks with a grin. “I like that. Straight to the point.”

“I’ve been dying to get to this point for weeks,” he mumbles against Sirius’ lips, snaking his hand
under his sweater to stroke over Sirius’ stomach. “I will undress you lovingly some other time,
deal?”

“Deal,” Sirius replies and hums into the kiss when Remus presses against him, one leg nudging
Sirius’ knees apart. He’s already hard, and the pressure of Remus' thigh against his cock makes him
shudder a little.

Remus breaks the kiss only long enough to pull Sirius’ sweater off, and dives back in eagerly. His
mouth is hot against Sirius’, and he runs his tongue insistently over his lower lip. Sirius’ head reels
– from the kiss, from the feeling of skin against skin, from the way Remus grabs his ass hungrily.

“Bed,” he pants, detaching from Sirius and then tugs him along with a finger hooked in his belt.
“Fuck, who allowed you to look that good?”

Sirius grins at the way he eyes his naked torso and shrugs. “No one. I do that just to make you
crazy.”

They stumble on the bed, and Remus pushes all the blankets off to the floor urgently before
unbuckling Sirius’ belt and cupping his erection through the pants. “I knew it,” he says smugly.
“Big ego, big dick.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Sirius laughs, a little breathlessly, and has to reign himself in to not thrust into his
palm like a teenager.

He leans down, capturing Remus between his arms and kisses down his neck, making him squirm
and breathe heavily. His skin is soft, a bit salty, and he smells like his soap and something else, his
own personal smell. Sirius loved it from the very beginning when he noticed it on his jacket back
in February. He almost can’t believe that this is actually happening.
When Sirius unbuttons Remus’ jeans, already way too tight on him, he has to swallow. This is a
man, definitely a man underneath him. Sirius strokes his cock through his pants, fascinated by the
way it feels in his hand. It makes his mouth water.

“Sirius,” Remus whimpers quietly and arches his back. “Fuck– Komm schon.”

Oh. Sirius smirks. Is Remus going to descend into German dirty talk now? Is he already that
aroused?

Remus groans, evidently too impatient, and tugs on Sirius’ trousers in a fruitless attempt to get
them off. Then changes tactics and squirms to pull down his own jeans all the way. Sirius smiles a
little and helps him, slightly amused by it, but mostly just very turned on by how frantic Remus
becomes when he’s horny.

As soon as the last clothing is discarded somewhere to the end of the bed, Remus drags him down
eagerly and captures his lips in a wet, filthy kiss. Sirius gasps a little when he lays down on top of
him fully – heat seems to roll off Remus in waves, and the feeling of his hard cock sliding against
Sirius’ makes him shiver and thrust instinctively.

Remus moans at the friction and throws his head back mid-kiss. His lips look dark, flushed,
forming a perfect ‘o’. His Adam’s apple moves jerkily when he swallows.

“How–“ He looks up at Sirius then, eyes unfocused, glasses skewed. “How do you want it?”

Sirius smiles and pulls off his glasses gently before setting them aside on the wide ledge around
the bed. “Okay, just one thing beforehand,” he says. “I need you to know that I’ve never actually
had sex with a man before.”

That seems to bring back some clarity to Remus because he frowns and lifts on his elbows. “Wha–“
He shakes his head in confusion. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Sirius confirms and sits up to face him properly. “Is that a problem?”

Remus cocks his head. “I mean… No, not really,” he says thoughtfully. “Are you sure you want
to?”

Sirius gives him an exasperated look and motions over himself with a hand. “Obviously.”

“Well, okay,” Remus says and chuckles. “Thanks for telling me. That’s important. I think I should
bottom then, because–“

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant at all,” Sirius interrupts him and grins. “I would actually prefer to
bottom.”

Remus raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Are you sure you’ve never slept with a man before?” he
asks, amused.

Sirius huffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you’re old enough to know that there are ways for
someone to fuck you even without a penis. So, if you don’t mind… I mean, if you want to, then
that’s fine as well.”

“Sirius,” Remus says with a slow smile, “ someone will get fucked tonight. And at this point, I
don’t care who anymore. You get me?”

It makes Sirius' stomach clench in anticipation, and he bites his lip, feeling hot and cold at the same
time. Remus reaches out and runs his fingers gently over his jaw before bringing their faces
together and kissing him. Softer this time, less urgent.

He turns them around, laying Sirius down on his back and running his hand slowly over his chest
and stomach, down to his cock. His palm is soft when he wraps his fingers around Sirius’ shaft and
gives him a couple light strokes. Sirius moans, his eyes rolling back on their own, and Remus
smiles into the kiss.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, breaking the kiss. “Can you explain to me how you asked to
be pegged and never actually tried sleeping with a man before? You clearly don’t mind.”

Sirius huffs a laugh. “Would it matter to you if I had slept with men before?”

Remus looks him in the eyes and wets his lips. “No,” he says in a low voice. “No one would have
fucked you the way I will anyway.”

A truly mortifying sound escapes Sirius’ lips and he feels himself twitch in Remus’ hand. “Say
something like that again,” he pants, “and I will come before we even started.”

Remus smiles knowingly and twists his fingers, running his palm over the wet slit on Sirius’ cock
before stroking him again, more firmly. “Sirius, if you think I will let you go having come only
once, you are horribly mistaken,” he whispers into his ear, hot breath ghosting Sirius’ neck.

Sirius moans, rocking on steady waves of pleasure with every movement of Remus’ hand on him,
his cocky attitude making Sirius’ stomach clench with desire. Remus fucking Lupin…

He lets Sirius go then, rolling over to the side of the bed, and Sirius shivers at the sudden loss of
contact. He hears the sound of a drawer being opened, probably integrated into the bed frame, and
then rustling. Remus comes back, a condom and a bottle of lube in his hands.

Sirius watches him prepare himself before slicking up both hands generously and positioning
between his legs. He smiles at Remus and parts his legs further.

Remus exhales harshly through his nose and bites his lip absentmindedly, his eyes roaming Sirius’
body. “Do you know how absolutely–“ He clears his throat and blinks. “I don’t have words.
You’re doing things to me…”

Sirius grins and bends one knee. “And I am waiting for you to do things to me, so…”

Remus narrows his eyes at him, but an amused smile tugs on his lips as he runs one slippery hand
over Sirius’ cock and the other between his cheeks. “You’re a bossy bottom,” he muses. “I should
have known.”

He slides the first finger in, just a little, and Sirius hums encouragingly. He would very much like
to watch Remus but his eyes close on their own accord, and Sirius just gives into the sensation. It’s
been months since he had sex, and even longer than that since he had anyone touch him like that,
and it shows.

Remus is careful, gentle, goes slowly and clearly knows what he’s doing. Sirius tries not to think of
how many lovers he’s had before, who else got to experience him like that – it doesn’t matter, he’s
with Sirius now. Loves Sirius…

“Ah–“ Sirius fists the sheets and bites his lip hard when Remus grazes his prostate, finding the
right angle. Fuck, that feels good…
Remus adds a second finger, still going maddeningly slow, and Sirius feels sweat build on his
temples. It’s almost torturous, how he’s stroking Sirius in sync with his fingers, slow and firm and
wet. When he adds yet another finger, Sirius whimpers and rolls his hips impatiently – he’s never
been as meticulous when stretching himself, nor were his partners before. It’s not necessary to that
extent, Remus must know it.

Sirius groans, frustrated and needy, and lifts his head to glare at Remus. “Fuck me right now or I
will fight you,” he demands. “And I will win, I’m stronger than you.”

Remus’ hands don’t still for a second and he glares right back before grinning evilly and changing
the angle. Sirius shudders, a rush of pleasure shooting down his spine as Remus’ fingers run right
over his prostate, and drops his head back on the mattress. He hasn’t been missing it accidentally,
he’s been doing it on purpose…

His movements get faster, more insistent, and Sirius doesn’t really register what he’s doing, but he
might actually be whining from the amount of pleasure cursing through his body.

“Fuck, Remus…” Sirius moans through clenched teeth. “I’m too close…”

Remus retreats almost instantly; his hands gone, leaving Sirius exposed and shivering. But Sirius
doesn’t have the time to complain, or really do anything because Remus is already pulling one of
his legs up on his shoulder and leaning over Sirius.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” Remus murmurs and his hand is grabbing Sirius’ thigh firmly
while he aligns himself.

They both moan in unison, an audible confirmation of relief, when Remus pushes in slowly. Sirius
is not new to anal in general, but neither his own fingers nor any toys or accessories came even
close to the feeling of a real, warm , human body. Nothing compares to the knowledge that Remus
fucking Lupin–

“Oh, fuck!” Sirius struggles to breathe as if the capacity of his lungs suddenly reduced with the
first careful thrusts.

Remus leans over him, one hand fisting the sheet next to Sirius’ head, closer, so much closer,
Sirius’ leg still on his shoulder. His face is focussed, cheeks flushed, curls in disarray – he looks
absolutely stunning like that. Sirius can only watch when he lifts Sirius’ lower half off the mattress,
one hand supporting his back, and grins. He fucking grins .

And then Sirius loses it completely. Because this is exactly the right angle, and Remus is not slow
and careful anymore, and every thrust is accompanied by a filthy sound of skin on skin. Sirius
grabs his neck, bringing him even closer, and Remus eagerly kisses him – wet, with too much
tongue, tugging on Sirius’ lip with his teeth.

“Oh my God…” Sirius didn’t think he could come without added stimulation. He did get close
before, alone, but never quite there. Now he thinks he might…

Steady pulses go through Sirius’ groin every time Remus hits his prostate, and warmth starts
spreading in his gut slowly. It’s not like the orgasms Sirius is used to, not like running up to a cliff
and jumping down into the lake. It’s like laying on the water surface and someone slowly but
unavoidably pushing you down, your whole body. You feel it coming and there is no escape. Like
standing on the beach and a massive wave is coming straight at you, no time to run, no way to hide
but to jump right in.
“Oh my God,” Sirius breathes again because the build-up is still not over yet, it takes minutes, and
he can’t really comprehend how this is possible.

He can feel Remus smile against his lips. “I know.”

Sirius feels like the moment before he tips over goes on for an eternity. As if time holds still, and
this is probably even better than the orgasm itself. And then Remus pushes him over with another
thrust – hard, deep, urgent.

The whole world shrinks down instantly as if focussing a telescope, and Sirius doesn’t think he is
even making any sounds because it’s too overwhelming even for that. He comes in waves,
spasming and shuddering through it. Sirius can feel distantly how Remus tightens the grip on his
thigh, almost painfully, how his movements become faster, jerkier, and hears his muffled moan
from where he’s pressing his forehead against Sirius’ shoulder.

Remus must have come too with the way he slumps over him, Sirius’ leg slipping down from his
shoulder. They both breathe heavily, their chests sticking together from sweat and Sirius’ come.

“Fucking hell…” Sirius whispers.

Remus laughs, quiet and giddy, and kisses him. And it’s perfect.

***

Remus Lupin is fun. Fun to be around, to talk to, to do things together. To fuck with. With him, it’s
easy, effortless, natural. Things that would objectively be awkward or strained with anyone else are
just another thing to laugh about with him.

Remus Lupin is fucking insatiable…

“Fuck…” Sirius arches his back and shudders, coming. His head spins and if he wasn’t in a
horizontal position already, he would just drop dead on the spot.

Remus comes up with a chuckle, draping himself over Sirius’ limp body, and licking his swollen
lips in an almost sinful way. He brushes the damp hair off Sirius’ forehead gently and grins.
“Good?”

“Fuck off, I can’t…” Sirius wraps his arms around him and squeezes, turning them over with the
last strength he has, essentially crushing Remus under him. “Stay. Don’t move. No more.”

Remus laughs, shaking underneath him. The sheets are damp with sweat and rumpled, and Sirius
feels absolutely filthy – layers of sweat cooling on his skin from a whole night of absolutely
incredible, tiring, mind-blowing sex.

Sirius is twenty-eight years old. He’s not eighteen anymore. He thought the days of insane fucking
until daylight were over for him. Then he met Remus Lupin…

“What’s the count?” Remus asks smugly. “Are we even now?”

“Shut up,” Sirius groans. “You will kill me.”

Remus hums, very satisfied with himself, and drapes a leg around Sirius’ hips, pressing them even
closer together. “I can’t help it. You make me crazy. Do you have any idea how long I wanted
this?” He sighs and buries his face in the crook of Sirius’ neck, latching onto his skin. “I don’t
think I masturbated as much as I did during the last months since I was like fifteen.”

Sirius can’t suppress a full-body shiver. The image of Remus, laying on his huge bed, legs wide
apart, touching himself with Sirius’ name on his lips makes his head fog up. Mortified, he notices
his cock stir again . What the fuck?

“Remus,” Sirius moans, “do you ever shut up?”

He grabs Sirius by the hair, making him lift his head and bringing their faces together. He grins.
“Make me.”

Oh, fuck…

***

Sirius is in pain. His whole body aches like he’s run a marathon. His cock is so sensitive he thinks
he might never be able to get a hard-on again. Then he eyes Remus, laying on his back, legs
thrown up against the wall, head resting on Sirius’ thigh, and thinks again.

“Okay, can we make this clear?” Remus asks suddenly, turning his head to look at Sirius instead of
staring at the ceiling. “Because I do think it’s pretty obvious, but it’s you , so I don’t even
know…”

Sirius laughs and runs his fingers through Remus’ curls. “Yes,” he says, amused. “Yes, it is pretty
obvious.”

“Say it,” Remus urges.

“Yes, we are together now,” Sirius complies. “If you want to.”

Remus smiles at him. “I love you. Of course, I want to.”

Sirius sighs and closes his eyes. Hearing Remus say it so easily, without thinking twice… It scares
him.

“Remus… I–“ Sirius frowns. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed. But I am incredibly fucked up.”

“Yes you are,” Remus drawls suggestively but then gets more serious when Sirius gives him an
exasperated glare. “Yeah… I thought so. What’s the matter?”

Sirius doesn’t even know where to begin. He wishes he wasn’t so tired and euphoric, maybe then
he could think of a better way to say it or explain it better.

“I had a shit childhood. I– I don’t think I…” It hurts to say it. “I don’t think I know how to love. I
don’t think I’m able to.”

Remus raises his eyebrows, unbothered. “Of course, you’re able to,” he says with so much
confidence that Sirius almost believes him. “Why would you say this?”

How does one even begin to describe the way they were raised? How can he explain the absolute
shitshow that was his love life until now? All the women he dated, all the women he hurt. He knew
what they wanted from him; he was just not able to give it to them. He tried, he really tried. He
couldn’t.

Sirius tried to pretend, thinking that maybe he was in love with his last girlfriend. Maybe he just
didn’t understand what love was, and this was it. Maybe he was just… love-illiterate. Maybe if he
acted that way, he would someday feel it too.

That ended with him, depressed and cold, giving up everything he worked for and running off to
Berlin.

He did meet Remus because of it though, so…

“All my relationships were a fucking disaster…” Sirius says. “Nothing ever worked out.”

Remus frowns, confused, and then laughs a little. “Well… yeah?” he says and lifts an eyebrow.
“Mine too. That’s why people are single, Sirius. Because things didn’t work out before. If they did,
they wouldn’t be single. What a stupid way to think.”

Sirius huffs. He does have a point there.

“Yeah, okay, you’re right,” he admits. “But the reason for it is what I’m talking about.”

“Look,” Remus says kindly, “sometimes people click. And sometimes people stop clicking. How
did you say it? Shit happens?”

They both laugh and Remus turns on his side, pressing a brief kiss to Sirius’ thigh. “I’m not
expecting you to say it back, you know,” he says then. “That’s not why I said it. Just stop
worrying about it so much and… I don’t know, come talk to me if you feel like it’s starting to go
badly. We will figure it out.”

“No risk, no fun?” Sirius asks, amused.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a grin. “Just do what feels right.”

“You know, you make everything sound so easy.” Sirius sighs. “Things don’t just happen to me .”

It’s not entirely true, he knows it. Remus happened to him, after all.

Remus gives him an annoyed look. “You–“ He huffs. “You thought you were so clever, standing
there.” He motions to the middle of the room. “Telling me I should work for things. Do you have
any idea how much I worked for this ? I didn’t put so much effort into anything for years .” He
rolls his eyes. “You didn’t deserve that point. I just gave it to you because I love you.”

Sirius didn’t think about it from this perspective. He looks at Remus thoughtfully.

“It’s simple,” Remus says then. “But it’s not easy for me either. I don’t say it lightly.”

And that’s it, isn’t it? The two things that Sirius was most afraid of. He might not have thought it
was true, didn’t want to believe it, but the hesitation was still rooted inside of him. It never worked
out for him before, why should it now? Remus was not exactly the picture of a reliable person,
why would this be different?

But there was not really a way to find out but to try, no? And Sirius really, really wanted to try.

“I believe you,” Sirius decides. “Just making sure you won’t be disappointed…”
 Remus smiles. “I won’t,” he assures him. “I don’t have to hear you say it to know it.”

Sirius smiles. Remus has always had the ability to hear what wasn’t said and to see things before
Sirius even realized they were there. Maybe this was another instance where this applied. Maybe he
should just trust him.

“But what I really want to know…” Remus drawls with a smirk. “Where is my review form?
Because I have some opinions…”

Sirius throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, what, you think you have opinions already?” he asks
slyly. “Do you think you had a sufficient sample?”

Remus groans. “You’re right,” he decides and lets his hand wander over the inside of Sirius’ thigh.
Sirius lets out a long-suffering sigh that he doesn’t actually mean, his legs falling further apart on
their own – an almost instinctual reaction to Remus now. “I think I will never have enough…”

He crawls up to kiss Sirius, lips already wet and hot, and wraps his fingers around his half-hard
cock. “Nine to six, by the way. That was a good one,” he adds then.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all so much for your overwhelmingly positive response to the last chapter!

I know some of you may be uncomfortable commenting on smut, so if that's the case
please tell me which song you associate with wolfstar the most. For me, it's the song I
featured at the beginning of this chapter. I may post the translated lyrics for the whole
song on my Tumblr if you want to check it out :)
 No U-turn
Chapter Notes

As usual, the explanations are in the chapter end notes :) Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Höchste Höhen, tiefste Tiefen. An warmen Tagen glaub ich wirklich (Highest highs, lowest lows.
On warm days I really believe)
Dass mich alle lieben und fühl mich als könnt ich fliegen (That everyone loves me and I feel like I
can fly)
Dann kommt die schwarze Wolke, macht mich klein und ich will mich erschießen (Then the black
cloud comes and makes me feel small and I want to shoot myself)
Standardkrisen eines manisch Depressiven! (Typical crises of a manically depressed)

– Prinz Pi, Schwarze Wolke

The morning after, Sirius is predictably late for work. Not because they overslept; in fact, they
haven’t slept at all that night. But leaving Remus was not an easy task.

Partly because Sirius didn’t want to. Parting with Remus was always hard, but especially after
everything that happened that night. It was like a magnetic pull – every time Sirius thought about
getting up, he somehow ended up cuddling even closer to Remus. He was scared that if he was to
leave, this thing between them could evaporate, dissolve in the morning sunlight, be carried away
by the wind.

Partly because Remus didn’t make it easy. He was being a brat and he knew it, judging by his
smug grins and glistening eyes. He kissed Sirius, slow and sweet, he entwined their fingers, he
tangled their legs, he tugged him back every time Sirius tried to get away. And when Sirius did get
up, he smiled at him and stretched, showing himself off unashamedly, and made sounds. Sirius got
up and came back to bed thrice before finally putting his foot down and jumping under the shower.

And then they kissed goodbye in the hallway for what seemed like forever, Remus still naked and
completely unbothered by the prospect of Markus showing up and seeing him like that. It was him
though who laughed and physically pushed Sirius out of his flat, ripping the figurative band-aid
off.

Sirius was objectively tired, exhausted, spent. The air outside was cold and foggy, it has been
raining all night. The trains were crowded to the point of being uncomfortable.

Sirius couldn’t wipe the smile off his face though. It was revolting. Absolutely embarrassing.
Insane.

He couldn’t care less.

“Sirius! Oh my God, you’re late!”

Sirius raises his eyebrows at Duc who accosted him right as he walked into the building. “And? Is
someone on fire?”

Duc gives him an anxious look. “We have the presentation in ten minutes! You didn’t show up to
the practice!”

Oh. Sirius completely forgot about that stupid presentation he had to do in front of the whole staff
assembly about their current marketing strategy.

“I don’t need to practice,” Sirius says and rolls his eyes. “Who do you think I am? Some snotty
intern? Get your things, I’ll see you in the meeting room.”

At this point, he needs a fucking raise for dealing with these people. Practice! Sirius huffs to
himself, striding into the meeting room and hanging his jacket up next to the door. He could be
dead, and he’d still do fine. What is one sleepless night?

Because Sirius might hate his profession, loathe his job and care fuck-all about this company, but
he is good at what he does. It didn’t come naturally to him, he worked long and hard to get to
where he is now – if he had to do something he hated, at least he would be the best at it, he decided
when he got to Oxford – but now he was confident in his abilities.

The presentation goes well, but all Sirius can think about is Remus. The memories of the past night
make him stop in his tracks and try to calm his fluttering heart every now and then. Sirius feels like
he’s sixteen all over again – horny, unstable and in love.

Oh.

“Huh,” Sirius says out loud.

Oh, so that’s what it’s like?

“I’m an idiot,” Sirius murmurs, pouring himself another coffee.

“D’accord.”

Sirius looks over from the coffee pot and gives Marlene an unimpressed look. She’s new, even
newer to the company than Sirius – another web developer. As if there was anything to develop…

She’s the embodiment of the French girl aesthetic. Surprisingly, while actually being French –
straight blonde hair, definitely bleached but in the most expensive way possible, fashionable dark
circles under her heavy-lidded eyes, tiny glistening rings all over her fingers. Sirius might be a bit
afraid of her. She seems like someone he shouldn’t mess with. He still does regularly.

“Marlene,” he greets her. “How come I only ever see you not working?”

“Sirius,” she drawls. Her voice is low and hoarse, a chilling contrast to her babyface. “How come
you’re only doing the bare minimum, but everyone still worships you?”

Sirius smirks at her. “Because my bare minimum is your burnout,” he supplies. “Had a nice week?
How many men did you behead like a Praying mantis?”

She smirks back. “Five. And you?”

“Six,” Sirius says and winks at her. “I win.”

Marlene purses her lips. “Non, I am honest. You are lying. I win.” She raises a perfectly plucked
eyebrow. “But you do look well-fucked.”

“Thank you,” Sirius says. “It’s my new skincare routine.”

She smiles. “Let me guess, the secret is fresh semen?”

Sirius rolls his eyes and laughs, Marlene smiles wider.

“Marlene, how do you know you are in love?” he asks, following a sudden urge.

She regards him, giving him a slow once-over, and shrugs elegantly with one shoulder. “When you
start asking your colleagues this question.”

Touché.

The rest of the day stretches forever while Sirius still mulls this over in his mind. The thoughts
aren’t new at all, there is no sudden epiphany or incredible realization. Nothing changes, just like
Remus said – if you say it or not, it doesn’t make it true or not true.

It’s just the angle at which he views everything. Because he was aware that Remus Lupin was
something special to him, but he didn’t think it was love. He thought it was just because Remus
Lupin was special.

Now he understands that he sees Remus as something special because he is in love.

He sort of expects himself to freak out. Sirius waits for it patiently – surely any moment his brain
will catch up with his heart and ring all the alarms. It doesn’t happen. Actually, it feels more like
relief. Like searching for your keys while at home – you know they are there, you just don’t know
where – and then finding them in the most obvious spot. It’s not unexpected, you just ask yourself
how you didn’t think of looking there in the first place.

The rain pours again when he gets off as if Berlin decided that three days of sunshine in succession
was a bit too much. Sirius is almost completely drenched when he gets home, cursing and slipping
on the polished floors of the entrance to his house. All he thinks about is getting inside and taking a
hot shower, so distracted by this prospect that he doesn’t even see it until he almost stumbles over
it.

There, leaning casually against the door to his flat is a round, red-and-white street sign.

No U-turn.

Sirius’ heart misses a beat and then jumps into a gallop. Oh God, he loves him. Sirius smiles and
picks up his phone, wiping the damp screen before dialling the number.

It barely rings before Remus picks up. “Ja?”

“So, a funny thing happened,” Sirius says, still eying the street sign.

“Oh, really?” Remus asks in feigned ignorance.

“Someone left a no U-turn sign at my door,” Sirius says. “What do you think that means?”

“Hm, good question,” he says nonchalantly. Sirius can hear his grin even through the phone. “I
would say this someone likes you a lot.”

“You think so?” Sirius asks, amused. “I don’t know how to get that message to this someone, but I
would like them to know that if they get arrested for stealing state property, I won’t bail them out.”

Remus laughs loudly. “I’m not sure, of course, but I would say that someone who does things like
that has a lot of experience in these sorts of things and you shouldn’t worry your pretty head with
it.”

Sirius huffs. “Okay. Why is this thing here and you aren’t?”

“I was hoping you’d ask that,” Remus says happily. “Look up.”

Sirius doesn’t know what he expected. Maybe for Remus to hang from the ceiling like a German
Peter Parker in his Spiderman costume. But there is nothing.

Remus’ laugh sounds in his ear. “I’m joking,” he says. “I had to drop off some flyers at work. I’ll
come over in a bit.”

With an exasperated sigh, Sirius hangs up and eyes the sign critically. He should probably move it
inside before his neighbours snitch him out or something.

***

Sirius is barely out of the shower when his doorbell rings.

“Oh Gosh,” Remus says. “You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”

He gives Sirius a slow once-over and smirks. Sirius steps out of the way to let him inside and
quickly closes the door before someone could see them. He looks down on himself, only a
haphazardly wrapped towel around his hips and nothing else.

“You did it to me,” Sirius mentions. “You don’t get to complain.”

“Who’s complaining?” Remus asks with raised eyebrows and pushes Sirius against the wall with
one hand on his chest. “I’m not complaining.”

In a fluid motion, he sinks down to his knees in front of Sirius and rips the towel off him
dramatically, throwing it on the floor. Sirius swallows thickly, the visual of Remus, still fully
clothed, kneeling before him already enough to get his blood boiling.

Remus smiles up at him and wets his lips, eyes dark and hungry behind his lenses. Sirius still can’t
believe that this creature chose to be his, knowingly walked into his life and decided to stay, saw
Sirius for who he was and fell in love.

The hot, slow glide of Remus’ lips on his cock is almost too much to take. The eagerness with
which he blows him is overwhelming – never has Sirius witnessed anyone sucking cock with so
much honest desire. Not out of necessity or indulgence, but with unaltered devotion.

Sirius trails a hand through his rain-damp hair and, out of genuine curiosity, applies some pressure
to the back of his head, making him take it deeper, faster. Remus grabs his hips and moans, the
vibration sending a thrill down Sirius’ spine. He’s not holding Sirius in place, he’s urging him
on. Sirius bites his lower lip and thrusts carefully, afraid he might have misinterpreted his body
language, but instead of stopping him, Remus lets his hips go again and crosses his hands behind
his back. When he opens his eyes and looks up at Sirius, his expression is a mix of lust, excitement
and trust.

The picture of pure submission.

And Sirius gives in, because how could he not? Not when Remus fucking Lupin is looking at him
like that, pupils blown wide, and lips stretched around his cock. He’s the embodiment of a wet
dream.

Sirius fucks his mouth, shallow and slow at first, then bolder, faster. And Remus takes it all, his
mouth wet and pliable, eyes closed, an expression of pure bliss written all over his features. And
Sirius loves him, loves him, loves him…

“Ah–“ Sirius throws his head back, thighs shaking, and comes deep in his throat. “Fuck, Remus…”

When it’s over, Remus doesn’t move from his kneel. He looks up at Sirius, hands still clasped
behind his back, lips wet and plump, breathing heavily – trusting, awaiting.

“Come here,” Sirius murmurs, carding through his hair gently with a shaking hand. Fuck, what he
does to him…

Remus gets up promptly, and Sirius pulls him closer, tilts his chin down for a kiss. It’s wet and hot,
and Sirius can taste himself on his lips. His whole body is tense – like a cat before a jump, and
Sirius palms him through his jeans. He’s so hard it must be painful. As if confirming it, Remus lets
out a quiet whimper against his lips and kisses him deeper, almost pleading.

Sirius unzips him and his breath hitches a little at how damp Remus’ pants are underneath the
denim, soaked with pre-come. Fuck. Foregoing any further undressing – Remus’ intense expression
excluding any patience – Sirius slips his hand under the elastic and strokes him like that.

With a drawn-out moan, Remus bucks his hips, thrusting instinctively into Sirius’ fist. “Please–
Come on.” He shudders and throws his head back, clinging to Sirius’ shoulders like a lifeline.
“Fuck, Sirius, I’m gonna–“

It doesn’t even take a dozen strokes until he comes, only a surprised ‘ah!’ on his lips as if he didn’t
expect it himself. Sirius holds him by the waist with his other arm, afraid he might collapse with
how much his legs shake, and strokes him through his orgasm, hand gliding easier with every spurt
of his cock.

Sirius feels a bit stunned by the intensity of it, not expecting this level of enthusiasm after only a
blowjob. Remus wasn’t as… swept away? frantic? unhinged? when they had sex last night.

Well, actually, he was a bit. Until Sirius told him it was basically his first time.

Oh. Sirius’ heart clenches. He must have pulled himself together for Sirius. Made a real effort to be
more in control of everything, even if it didn’t come naturally to him during sex, just because he
knew Sirius needed that.

Fuck, Sirius loves him.

“How about a shower for you as well?” Sirius asks when Remus calmed down a bit, his head
laying heavy on Sirius’ shoulder. “Mh? Does that sound good?”

Remus nods and sighs. “Yeah… Thanks.”

Sirius’ has to take a breath to reign his emotions in. Oh, this sweet, sweet person…

***

“This is your apartment?” Remus asks incredulously, looking around.

He’s wearing his own t-shirt but a pair of Sirius’ sweatpants. And Sirius’ underwear, as his own
were sort of ruined now. It still makes Sirius’ brain go fuzzy to think about it – it is such a new
concept to him. But, yeah, of course, Remus is a man, they are roughly the same size, he could
wear his clothes. His underwear. Why not?

“You didn’t just move in,” Remus continues and gives Sirius A Look. “Schatz, it’s completely
bare.”

Sirius cocks his head and smiles a little. “What did you just call me?”

Remus smiles back and shrugs. “Just a… What do you call it? A cute name? For a partner.”

“Pet name,” Sirius supplies and grins. “Schatz?”

“Like… treasure? Darling?” Remus waves a hand impatiently. “Whatever. That’s not the point.
Where is all your stuff?”

Sirius sort of expected a conversation like that happening as soon as it was clear that Remus would
come over. His flat still looks largely the same since he moved in – he did get some more clothes,
more casual for when he wasn’t working, and he got a bookcase online, mostly for his art supplies.
But other than that, it was still very much empty.

The street sign leans proudly against the wall next to Sirius’ bed, and Remus eyes it with a smile.

“You don’t have any, do you?” Remus asks then and looks a bit sad.

“I’m a minimalist,” Sirius says and grins.

Remus rolls his eyes at him. “No, you’re not. You have at least three different but exactly the same
light blue shirts.”

“I have seven,” Sirius jokes. “For every day of the week. That’s the minimalist approach – no more
decision fatigue in the mornings.”

Actually, Sirius has four. And they are definitely not the same – different shades, different cuts,
thank you very much.

Remus takes another look around and then his face lights up. He throws his hands up in the air and
grins. “I know what to do! Auf zu IKEA!”

He says IKEA the German way, sounding more like Eh-KEA and Sirius smiles at how cute that is.
Then he gives Remus a pleading look.

“Remus, I’m exhausted,” he says earnestly. “I haven’t slept all night and then I worked all day. All
I want is to crawl into bed and turn the lights off. Can we do it another time?”
Remus raises his eyebrows and looks at him apologetically. “Oh, yeah, I sort of forgot,” he says
somewhat sheepishly. “I had some sleep after you left…” Then he sighs and looks at his phone,
checking the time. “And I have to work tonight…”

Their schedules didn’t align all that well, Sirius notices. He knew that Remus worked at the club,
which involved night shifts, but he didn’t really think about it all that much – Remus always
seemed free when Sirius was off. But maybe that was because he actually gave up on a good chunk
of sleep because of Sirius.

“When do you have to leave?”

He smiles. “In about three hours.”

Sirius nods. “I don’t think I can stay awake much longer, I’m sorry…”

“Oh, no, don’t!” Remus says instantly and sits down on Sirius’ bed, patting the mattress beside
him. “How about you sleep, I take a nap with you, and then I’ll go to work.”

With palpable relief, Sirius lies down and is instantly enveloped in Remus’ arms. He tugs him
closer, pulls the blanket over them both, and flicks off the lights.

“When do you work usually?” Sirius asks, stifling a yawn. “What’s your schedule?”

Remus nuzzles the top of his head and sighs. “I have a twenty-hour contract,” he explains. “I do
night shifts on Fridays and Saturdays, sometimes on Sundays depending on how we’re staffed.
And then I do evenings on one or two days during the week.”

Sirius hums. “Is it difficult with the sleeping schedule?”

“I can sleep anywhere anytime,” Remus says with a chuckle. “So, I don’t mind. I usually sleep
until noon on weekends, then completely crash on Mondays. And I try to sleep in as much as I can
on Fridays.”

“I’m confused,” Sirius mumbles and yawns, his brain already drifting off, lulled by the deep sound
of Remus’ voice and the warmth radiating from his body. “We’ll figure it out… How about you
come back after work tomorrow and sleep here? And then we can do that IKEA trip you wanted.”

Remus kisses the top of his head loudly and giggles. “Yay! IKEA!”

Sirius doesn’t have the strength to roll his eyes, he’s already falling asleep, a smile on his lips.

***

„The ultimate question is – hot dogs before or after shopping?” Remus lets out a stream of smoke
and resolutely stumps out his cigarette on a bin near the entrance. He looks just as fresh and vibrant
as ever, despite having worked all night – he came back to Sirius’ flat just as Sirius was lacing his
running shoes.

Sirius hasn’t slept that good in a long time. Maybe because he was absolutely exhausted, or maybe
it was because Remus was next to him when he fell asleep. Sirius was never someone who needed
another person in his bed – he much preferred sleeping alone if at all possible. And he especially
hated falling asleep while cuddling; something about it just always made him feel slightly
claustrophobic. But yesterday, he didn’t even think about it when Remus wrapped his arms around
him.

“I’m not that hungry,” Sirius says with a shrug. “But you can get one now if you want.”

Remus gives him a bewildered look. “One?!”

Sirius huffs a laugh. “How many do you want?”

“How many I want to eat or how many I could eat?” Remus clarifies with a grin. “Wait, don’t say
it. The answer is – all of them for both questions.”

They walk through the spinning doors into the huge foyer. The shop seems to be crowded, which is
not surprising on a Saturday afternoon. Sirius feels even less enthusiastic about the whole idea than
before.

“You will get a stomach ache,” Sirius warns him.

“Worth it!” Remus exclaims with a laugh. He almost jumps on the escalator up to the showroom
part of the shop and turns to face Sirius.

“You are a child,” Sirius tells him. “Should I have left you in the children’s corner?”

Remus wiggles his eyebrows. “You think this is a threat? Joke’s on you, they have a ball pit,” he
says with big eyes.

Sirius grimaces. “Just imagine how filthy that is.”

“Dreck reinigt den Magen,” Remus tells him with an unbothered shrug and then grins, faced with
Sirius’ confused expression. “Gotta train the immune system! I probably have licked over the
entirety of my childhood playground as a kid and look – I’m totally fine!”

Sirius has to grab his arm when Remus inevitably stumbles backwards over the edge of the
escalator as they arrive on the top floor. “I’m not so sure about that,” he grumbles.

Remus cocks his head and frowns, and Sirius suddenly feels bad for being a dickhead. He hasn’t
seen Remus getting offended at anything he said before, but that didn’t mean it would never
happen. And… well, it was different now, was it not? They are… in a relationship now. Sirius still
struggles to grasp that fully.

But Remus, still holding onto Sirius’ elbow, just pulls him aside to let other guests through and
leans against a pillar. “Is everything ok?” he asks kindly.

Sirius lifts his eyebrows and shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

“Because you’re especially grumpy today,” Remus says. “So, tell me, what’s going on in that head
of yours?”

He’s right, of course, as he often is. Sirius has been in a weird mood all day since he woke up.
Nothing is wrong, on the contrary – everything is good. It’s the weekend, the weather is nicer
again, Sirius had a satisfying run this morning and came back to Remus buried in his blanket, just
the tip of his curly head peeking out. Everything is good, more than good, it’s perfect, actually…

“I’m sorry.” Sirius sighs and drags a hand through his hair, frustrated and at a loss of what to say.
“I just feel like… I don’t know. Forget it, it’s silly.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” Remus says with a small smile. “I would just
like to understand.”

Sirius lets out a laugh that sounds a bit too bitter even to his own ears. “Yeah, me too,” he
murmurs. “It’s nothing. Everything is good.”

Remus eyes him with a pensive expression. “Too good?” he asks knowingly.

It makes Sirius’ stomach churn with aimless anxiety. Because Remus is right again. It does feel too
good. Sirius is not a stranger to high highs and low lows, it’s a life-long rollercoaster he’s stuck in
since he was a child. He’s been undeniably low for the longest time now; a state that has been only
slowly lifting since Remus appeared in his life, but the past days… It’s like he’s been catapulted
into the stratosphere all of a sudden.

The higher the high, the more painful the inevitable fall will be. Sirius is anticipating it even before
there are any signs for worry.

“I’m just waiting for something bad to happen,” Sirius admits.

“Oh, it will,” Remus replies easily and smiles. “It always does. What’s the point in dreading it?”

There is none, of course. It’s not like Sirius’ ability or inability to enjoy his good fortune would
have any effect on that. Sirius can’t explain it though, there is no logic behind it.

“Do you never feel like that?” he asks. “Like things are too good to be true?”

“No,” Remus says instantly and tilts his head a little. “But I’m not a good example. My worst has
already happened. Anything else is infinitely better, so I’m just taking things as they come.”

Sirius feels inexplicably guilty – his problems are largely made up compared to Remus’, although
he is in no way responsible for his family dying. And, at the same time, a bit exasperated. It always
sounds so easy coming from him, and although Remus would argue that it’s not easy, but rather
simple, Sirius sometimes struggles to see the difference between those two.

“I think we should move on,” Sirius says and looks away, following the steady stream of people
gliding up the escalator with unseeing eyes. When he gets no response for a while and looks back,
Remus is watching him with narrowed eyes.

“Do you think that bad things always follow good ones, or do you think that you don’t deserve the
good things?”

Being confronted with questions like that is far from new to Sirius, but Remus still manages to stun
him with that one.

In his mind, Sirius understands that it’s completely irrelevant. There is no bigger consciousness,
deciding who gets what. There are no rules as to how happiness is distributed. There is no balance
to be upheld in the universe, the whole human existence is just entropy.

In his heart, Sirius feels like a gigantic mistake has been made. That his contentment is an illusion,
a bubble ready to burst as soon as the mix-up will be found out and fixed. That he’s an imposter
and will be uncovered when the reason for his elation will realize what is really going on.

The reason is, of course, Remus Lupin.

Sirius is still afraid of what might happen when Remus decides he’s had enough.

They’ve been over this, Sirius has rationalized the shit out of that fear for days, even before Remus
has told him about his feelings. It’s unnecessarily pessimistic, all the evidence speaks for the
sincerity of Remus’ affection, Sirius does trust him.

He knows, there is no better way but to try and find out. That the only alternative is to not try at all,
and then it’s basically a loss even before the game has started. That Remus himself has way more
reasons to be anxious about this – it’s Sirius, after all, who has fucked up so royally before when it
came to romance.

But it’s neither easy nor simple. The problem, the fear, however redundant it may be, is not just
gone from one moment to the next. No matter how much you talk it through.

“I don’t think that I don’t deserve good things,” Sirius says earnestly. “I just don’t think I
deserve you.”

Sirius honestly expects Remus to throw out some fortune cookie wisdom, or another painful
question (probably something along the lines of ‘Do you think everyone gets what they deserve all
the time?’) or, at the very least, cite some poem or song lyric.

Instead, Remus clicks his tongue, obviously annoyed, and levels Sirius with A Look. “Deserve
what, Sirius?” he asks challengingly and points at himself. “This unstable mess of a human? No
education, no reliable job, no prospects. I don’t know who you see me as, but I assure you, I’m not
some kind of perfect man.”

It’s probably the most agitated Sirius has ever seen Remus. His eyes are hard and trained straight at
Sirius, jaws clenched, and his whole body language is incredibly tense. Like he’s ready to either
strike or bolt.

Oh. Remus is scared too.

For some weird reason, it makes Sirius relax despite the confrontation. Remus is just always so
confident and easygoing, appearing completely unbothered by things like that. Every day Sirius has
to remind himself that not everything is what it seems. He’s not alone in his uncertainty.

The feeling of fierce protectiveness slams through him. Fuck, he loves him…

“Do you think I’m perfect?” Sirius asks.

“Of course,” Remus replies instantly, with no hesitation, no doubt in his tone. He still stares at
Sirius as if saying ‘go on, fight me on this’. It makes Sirius’ heart jump.

With a smile that is probably softer than Sirius would have liked, he lifts a hand and brushes some
hair off Remus’ forehead. “That’s quite arrogant of you. Thinking you’re the one who gets to be
with the perfect man,” he says, a bit amused. “I am not. And I don’t think you are. I think you are
perfect for me.”

Remus freezes up and blinks, confused. Sirius shakes his head and continues, “I don’t care about
your education or what kind of job you have. Who do you think I am? If I wanted a trophy wife, I
would have stayed in London. And that would be incredibly rich of me to judge someone’s mental
state with the shit that I’m dealing with.”

His closed-off expression turns more and more vulnerable as Sirius continues talking and by the
end, Remus almost yanks him closer and kisses him. It’s urgent and desperate, but not at all in a
 sexual way, and Sirius feels his heart swell with every movement of Remus’ lips, with every
shallow breath he takes, with every glide of his tongue against Sirius’.

“Fuck,” Remus murmurs against his lips, “I already love you. You have to stop saying things like
that.”

Sirius chuckles. “That was pretty intense. What’s the score now? I lost count.”

Remus makes an impatient noise at the back of his throat and kisses Sirius again in a way that
makes Sirius, in a corner of his dazed mind, painfully conscious that they are having potentially
relationship-altering conversations and making out in a very well-attended IKEA, of all places.

“Who the hell cares?” Remus says then and Sirius can feel his grin more than he can see it. “Not
me.”

“Not me,” Sirius agrees.

Chapter End Notes

Ja - Yes
Auf zu IKEA - Off to IKEA
Dreck reinigt den Magen - Dirt cleanses the stomach. It's a German saying that,
apparently, stems from an outdated belief about some sort of detox but is widely used
in the sense that it's not so bad if things aren't that clean or sterile. Somewhere along
the lines of the 'five second rule' and, like Remus said, the idea that the immune
system can handle (and/or is trained) by a bit of 'dirt'.

Also, fun fact, did you know that Germany has the most IKEA shops in the world?
Yeah, Germans love IKEA :D
 Monstera, queen of destruction
Chapter Notes

I wanted to share some fanart I drew of Remus with you in case you wanted to have a
visual of how I imagine him in my mind.
Maybe consider following me on Tumblr if you want to see more content like this, I
might do a Sirius one next :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Es ist so leicht ehrlich zu dir zu sein (It's so easy to be honest with you)

Es ist so einfach, wenn ich sage, „nein“ (It's so easy when I say, "No")

Oder: „Ich bin noch nicht so weit“ (Or, "I'm not ready")

Du gibst mir Zeit (You give me time)

– AnnenMayKantereit, Vielleicht vielleicht

Going furniture shopping with Remus is exactly like Sirius imagined it. He goes completely wild,
the change in his attitude to the heartfelt conversation they had before is jarring and Sirius feels
almost like he has motion sickness from his mood swings.

He touches everything . He has a lot of opinions on the different room installations the shop has
designed. He insists on sitting down on every single couch there is even though Sirius has one
already. He pretends to read the mock-up books on display. He opens every single closet they
walk past.

It would be incredibly annoying if Sirius wasn’t so in love with him.

“Do you think I should buy a new kitchen?” Remus asks pensively, standing in front of a kitchen
unit in the exhibition. It has completely black, matte fronts and leather straps for drawer handles –
very pretty to look at, absolutely impractical in real life.

“You have a kitchen,” Sirius reminds him, amused.

Remus ignores him resolutely and opens a door on the corner. It swings open to reveal a clever
carousel construction that maximizes the dead space. Remus sighs contently. “I need that in my
life.”

Sirius grins and flips over the price tag for him to see. Remus’ eyes go wide, and he slams the door
shut. “Bye!” he announces, already walking away. Sirius just shakes his head.

Apart from behaving like a child on a sugar high, Remus is actually pretty helpful when it comes to
picking out things for Sirius. Sometimes Sirius forgets that he’s actually the same age as him.
“It is nice,” Remus agrees, wiping his hand over the surface of a desk. “But it’s… how do you say
it? Untreated? Anything wet will leave marks, you’ll have to sand and oil this thing all the time.”

“I don’t think I even have tools for that,” Sirius murmurs.

Remus shrugs. “I can give you some but think about it. You’re going to paint on it, I guess? Do
you want to worry about the wood all the time?”

“Nah,” Sirius decides. “Let’s look at something simpler.”

“It’s not the same shade as your bedframe,” he says confidently, eying the bedside table Sirius
stopped in front of.

“It is,” Sirius says. “It’s white.”

“White is not always the same white,” Remus argues. “See, this one is different.”

Sirius lets his eyes wander between two absolutely identical-looking tables and sighs. “I don’t see
it,” he admits. Then he raises his eyebrows at Remus. “It would make you absolutely crazy,
wouldn’t it? If I got a similar but slightly off shade table?”

Remus looks at him with a grave expression. “You have no idea.”

“Fine,” Sirius relents and grins. “You pick, I really don’t care. I still don’t think I need all that
stuff.”

Of course, he gets ignored. Remus seems to be on a mission and Sirius doesn’t think anyone could
stop him. Sirius doesn’t exactly mind, as long as Remus has his fun and stops looking at Sirius like
he’s some deeply disturbed person for not filling his living space with unnecessary belongings.
Maybe he’s right after all and it would make his flat a bit more welcoming.

“I wouldn’t recommend getting a rug like that,” Remus says, reading the tag. “It will stay nice for
like a month and then you’ll never get it properly clean.”

Sirius remembers the huge, light-coloured rug in Remus’ room and huffs a laugh. “Don’t you have
a similar one?”

“Umm.” Remus gives him a mock-offended glare. “No? I’d like you to know mine is real wool .”

“Uncaringly noted,” Sirius drawls and grins.

“Why are we even looking here?” Remus asks with a scoff. “Let’s get you a nice one from
somewhere else. All of these are horrible.”

Sirius refrains from reminding him that it was his idea in the first place.

“Uh-oh,” Sirius says slowly as the beginning of the garden area looms in the distance. Remus gets
a palpable spring in his step and grins at him. “Why do I have a feeling all of this was a carefully
constructed scheme to give you an opportunity to get more plants?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Remus singsongs and laughs. “This is purely
coincidental. I completely forgot there was a plants section here. Silly me.”

Sirius can’t help the fond smile when Remus actually rushes forward to disappear amongst the
many displays of all kinds of greenery. ‘My friends always gift me plants, I don’t know how to
stop it’, Sirius parrots him silently and rolls his eyes. What a blatant lie. Remus has a problem .

“Oh, no, no, no,” Sirius says and bursts out laughing. “ Remus !”

He is barely visible behind a huge, heavy-looking Monstera plant that he’s carrying over. With a
bright grin, he sets it down in the trolley.

“Babe, you don’t have space for it!” Sirius rubs his eyes, still laughing. “Besides, you’ve got one
already.”

Remus pouts adorably. “But Sirius, look at her! She’s so sad.” He pets one of the giant leaves as if
it’s sentient. “The pot is far too small, and they are overwatering her. She will get root-rot! I have
to rescue her.”

‘Her’ Sirius mouths and shakes his head in exasperation. Remus is giving the plant pronouns; this
is a lost cause. With a defeated sigh, Sirius rubs Remus’ shoulder. “Where will you put it?”

“At your place, obviously,” Remus says nonchalantly.

Sirius gapes at him. “No!” he exclaims. “Are you serious?”

Remus looks him straight in the eyes. “Yes.”

“You think she’s been poorly cared for here?” Fuck. Sirius has adopted the pronouns. “I will kill
her in a week.”

“I’ll take care of her!” Remus assures him quickly. “You don’t have to do anything but admire her!
In fact, if I ever see you with a watering can near her, I will flip out.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Good thing I don’t have a watering can,” he murmurs and regards the plant.
“Okay. Fine. But! Just this one, no more!”

Remus flashes a blinding smile and nods eagerly. Too eagerly. Sirius doesn’t believe him for a
single second. Oh God, he’ll use Sirius’ flat as some outsourced plant sanctuary, he’s sure of it.
Fuck, Sirius loves him.

***

“Such a fancy building,” Remus murmurs and wipes his forehead. “And no elevator.”

Sirius sets down the last box – one of two large bookcases Remus convinced him to buy – and eyes
it critically, gauging whether it’s secure or will tip over at any second. He learned his lesson when
a box crashed down earlier and almost hit Remus who was walking past. Sirius is too young for a
heart attack.

“We wouldn’t need a lift if we just arranged a delivery,” Sirius says.

It would have been the smarter thing to do – they got a lot of stuff. But Remus just waved him off
and insisted on renting a van. It was maybe worth it for the inexplicably attractive way Remus
looked while driving it, like a capable and hot handyman. A thing Sirius would have never thought
could turn him on.

Sirius’ flat is in an absolute state – boxes of disassembled furniture everywhere, bags with random
shit blocking the way, and in the middle of it, the giant plant. Like the queen of destruction,
perching on Sirius’ dinner table. He eyes her pensively and huffs.

Then he edges past Remus who is rummaging through a bag and into the hallway.

“Here,” Sirius says with a smile and throws Remus a set of keys when he looks up. Remus catches
it automatically, looking stunned, and gives him a questioning look. “If you have to take care of
that plant, you need a way to see her.”

Remus’ eyes go comically wide behind his glasses that are sitting a bit askew on his nose and he
looks at the set of spare keys to Sirius’ flat like he’s seen a ghost. “Are these…”

“Yep,” Sirius confirms and leans against the doorframe, watching Remus with a smile.

“These are–”

“Uh-huh.” Sirius nods, smiling even more at the way Remus’ eyes fleet between his hands and
Sirius.

Remus slowly closes his fist and stares intensely at Sirius, not a sign of his mocking grin, not a
trace of his silly attitude to be found. He inhales sharply through his nose. “You gave me your
keys,” he states flatly. “To let me water the plant?”

Sirius shrugs. “Your workplace is literally around the corner,” he reasons. “It doesn’t make much
sense for you to go to Kreuzberg and then back again the next night. You’re very welcome to crash
here. Or,” he adds with a smile, “any other time you like.”

It wasn’t a well-thought-out idea, Sirius must admit. Remus is definitely rubbing off on him.

He has been trying and failing to actually tell Remus he loves him multiple times since the
realization hit. Just do it , a voice that sounded suspiciously like Remus’ rung in his head. But
every time he came close, it either felt inappropriate for the situation – for example, Sirius doubted
Remus would have appreciated that when he was obnoxiously zooming around on a trolley in the
IKEA warehouse, almost crashing into shelves and, once, an actual employee – or he just couldn’t
get it out. The words stuck to the roof of his mouth like sticky chewing gum.

So, he figured, he would try and show it rather than tell. He feels like he owes Remus some kind of
grand gesture after everything.

“You gave me your keys…” Remus says again, sounding incredibly surprised.

Sirius feels himself growing nervous. Was it too soon? Should he have waited? Is this some kind of
deal-breaker?

“I mean, you don’t– If you don’t want to… That’s fine,” Sirius mumbles. “It was– Yeah, well,
forget it… You don’t–“

Then, suddenly, Remus is right in front of him. As if he’s been on the brake and gas at the same
time and now released the brake to shoot forward like a missile. “Shut up!” he exclaims and almost
slams his lips against Sirius’.

It hurts a bit – their teeth clank, and Remus presses awkwardly against his nose. Sirius laughs into
the kiss, surprised and delighted by Remus’ reaction, and then moans when Remus drags both
hands through his hair, the keys falling uncaringly to the floor, and deepens the kiss at once.

Remus’ mouth is hot and frantic as if kissing Sirius is the only thing he will want to do for the rest
of his life and Sirius’ heart feels like it has grown wings – any moment it will flutter through his
mouth, he can feel the feathers tickling his throat already. Sirius would have pulled him closer, but
there is no space between them anymore, Remus is already pressing him flush against the
doorframe with his whole body.

He pulls off, but just to take off his glasses and throw them in the general direction of the couch
before diving back again, his hands stroking over Sirius’ shoulders, down his chest, expertly
opening the buttons on his shirt. When he moves to kiss along Sirius’ jaw and down his neck,
Sirius gasps for air and grimaces.

“Babe, we’re filthy. I need a shower…”

Remus looks up at him, eyes dark, lips shiny with spit. “Do I look like I give a shit?” he asks
breathlessly.

No, Sirius thinks, no, you don’t. But all words escape his mind because Remus is done unbuttoning
his shirt and moves over to unbuckle his belt. Sirius is hard already; he doesn’t even know when
that happened, maybe even back in that van when Remus was turning the wheel with only the heel
of one hand, eyes turned attentively on the road. All Sirius had eyes for were his hands, the
relaxed set of his shoulders, how he licked his lips absentmindedly.

“What…” Sirius swallows and drags his hands all the way down the muscles on Remus’ back,
making him gasp and arch. “What do you want?”

Remus pulls down Sirius’ trousers and snakes his hand under the elastic of his underwear, fingers
closing around his cock. “Fuck me,” he breathes into Sirius’ mouth. “Fuck me. Right now.”

Sirius hums, the combination of Remus’ capable hand stroking him insistently, and the feeling of
his own erection pressing against Sirius’ hip making his brain go fuzzy at the edges. He glances
around the room, trying to decide where in this chaos would be an appropriate place to bend Remus
over. The bed is already occupied, multiple large bundles of new pillows and blankets piled on top
of it.

“Couch,” Sirius pants, little shoots of pleasure going through his spine with every move of Remus’
hand on his cock and tongue on his neck. “Go on, undress. I’ll get the things.”

With clear reluctance, Remus detaches from him and stumbles a little, his balance seemingly
thrown off as soon as he’s hard. Sirius has never before had sex with anyone who got into it that
much, to the point of completely losing all grasp on anything that didn’t directly involve the act
itself. It was mildly amusing but mostly just hot as fuck.

By the time Sirius returns from the bathroom with lube and condoms in hand, Remus seems to have
cooled off a bit. He did undress, and he was still hard, but there was a bit of uncertainty on his face.

“Should I–“ Remus looks at the couch and frowns. “Do you want me to lay down? Or kneel? Or
what– I mean…”

Sirius can’t help the fond smile at the way Remus got all flustered. He walks up to him and pulls
him closer by the waist with one hand. “Why are you all shy now?” Sirius grins. “I assure you I’ll
fuck you any of those ways at some point, it’s not a big decision. How do you like it?”

He smiles slowly. “Really?”

“I gave you the keys to my flat,” Sirius reminds him. “That was definitely one of the top reasons.”

With a fair amount of satisfaction, Sirius finds out that the best way to get Remus out of his head is
to just kiss him. They have been together for barely two days, and it is already as easy as breathing.
Remus melts into his arms instantly with an eager sound, his mouth opening readily as soon as
Sirius leans in.

It’s Remus, in the end, who tugs Sirius along and turns around to bend over the armrest. It’s the
perfect height, and it couldn’t have been better if Sirius actually had anything like this in mind
while choosing this couch. Sirius watches him – the plane of his back, the curve of his ass – and
can’t believe that he gets to have this. That he’s allowed to witness this view, that it’s him who can
make Remus shiver just by running a hand over the small of his back and down his cheeks, that it’s
his fingers that Remus shifts his legs apart wider and arches his back for.

“Come on–“ Remus scrapes his fingers fruitlessly over the soft leather, nothing to hang on to for
him there. “Sirius, please… I can’t–“

You can, Sirius thinks and bites his lip. He’s maybe being a bit vindictive after the way Remus let
him flounder for so long that first time. But mostly he just likes the way he writhes, the soft moans
he lets out when Sirius grazes his prostate, the way his hole clenches rhythmically as if reluctant to
let go every time Sirius pulls his fingers out to thrust them back in.

When Sirius thinks that he himself might not be able to hold off any longer and retreats to put on a
condom, Remus shudders and whines unintelligibly at the loss of contact. And when Sirius aligns
himself, already set on going slow and careful, Remus actually thrusts back on his own with a
drawn-out moan. Sirius gasps, grabbing onto Remus' hips with both hands – either to hold him back
or to help him along, he does not know.

“Fuck, yes…” Remus tries to lift up on his hands, to get leverage to push himself back, but his
hand slips on the smooth surface.

And Sirius throws all his plans overboard because Remus clearly wants it and, fuck, Sirius wants it
too. It’s intoxicating – the tight, hot, smooth feeling of moving inside Remus, the sounds he makes
every time Sirius thrusts forward, the way he readily arches even more when Sirius pushes down
on his lower back.

“Oh Gott,” Remus moans when Sirius reaches around to stroke his cock. He’s so hard that it is
pressed flush against his spasming stomach, the head already slick with pre-come. “Fuck, Sirius–“

Remus shudders, his movements going a bit out of rhythm as if he can’t decide where to thrust –
against Sirius’ cock or into his fist. Sirius has to use all his self-control to not come right then and
there when Remus clenches up and lets out a loud sob.

Sirius groans through his teeth and increases the speed, at which Remus goes completely still and
tenses up all over, his thighs shaking a little from strain – absolutely gone, only able to take at his
point.

“Sirius,” he moans desperately, and then shudders hard, spilling into Sirius’ hand in multiple
spurts.
The way he says his name gives Sirius the rest, it shoots through his ears and straight into his groin
like an electrical impulse. He thrusts one last time, Remus already limp and softly shivering under
him, and comes deep inside of him, eyes wide open and not seeing anything with the intensity of
his orgasm.

“Ach du Scheiße…” Remus curses breathlessly and chuckles a little. “What the fuck…”

Sirius looks down at him and strokes over his sweaty back, trying to get his own breathing under
control. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Remus answers and chuckles again. “Fuck, I love you.”

Me too, Sirius thinks. A lot.

***

“My middle name is John,” Remus whispers.

They are lying on Sirius’ bed now, an island in the sea of chaos that has overtaken the flat, freshly
showered and exhausted. Darkness filters through the windows, colouring everything in a deep
blue – they haven’t bothered with turning on the lights. Remus’ cheek rests on the pillow, making
his smile crooked and lopsided as he watches Sirius, his hand running along Sirius’ side – up and
down, up and down.

“My birthday is the 3rd of November,” Sirius says.

Remus’ eyes look grey in the dim light, not green as Sirius knows they actually are, and he appears
somehow small and vulnerable without his glasses. They are still somewhere on the couch,
carelessly discarded in the heat of the moment and completely forgotten – no use for them in this
small pocket they created right now.

“I studied Mathematics,” Remus says and smiles wider. “And then Material Science. And then
Civil Engineering.”

Sirius feels utterly calm, like the storm that usually rages in his mind has evaporated and he’s
floating on gentle waves. He knows Remus will have to leave soon, in less than an hour, to go to
work again. But for now, he’s here. And that’s enough.

“I have a motorcycle. It’s probably so rusty by now, it would crumble to dust. But I still have it,
back in London,” Sirius tells him.

He will think about everything else later. About the mess in his apartment, about the furniture that
needs to be assembled, about the van that they still have to bring back, about the design he has to
finish for Peter next week. There is no need to worry about that now.

“I learned French in school,” Remus says. “And Latin.”

Remus’ curls are damp from the shower and springy when Sirius cards his fingers through them,
and he closes his eyes for a moment, leaning into the touch. Sirius can see the vein on his exposed
neck, beating steadily in time with his heart – it’s a hypnotizing sight, a very visual conformation of
how alive Remus is. Sirius thinks his own heart is beating in rhythm with his too.
“I am lactose intolerant,” Sirius admits. “But I refuse to accept that.”

It still feels like a dream. Not just the last days – the sudden change in their relationship, all the
small and big confessions, all the jokes, and questions, and heads thrown back in ecstasy. The
whole thing, all the way since Sirius saw Remus for the first time. All the time he’s been in Berlin
now. Sirius is sure Berlin is just a simulation – a product of his imagination, pulled out from the
furthest corners of his mind, filled with his worst fears and truest wishes.

“Helen,” Remus whispers, barely audible. And his eyes are far away now, looking straight past
Sirius. “My sister. Her name is Helen.”

Sirius draws a shaky breath, his chest clenching with compassion.

“What was she like?” he asks, also very quiet. As if he could spook Remus out of talking about it.

“Very assertive,” Remus says and smiles ruefully. “She always knows what she wants, and she
never stops until she gets it. There is this… She has some unbelievable power behind her, like a
driving force… She is the strongest person I know. I always looked up to her even though she is
younger.”

It hurts Sirius so much to hear Remus talking about her in present tense. But maybe not as much as
it would hurt Remus not to. Sirius doesn’t know if it’s healthy, whether it shows how Remus still
struggles to accept her death, but he is not the right person to pass judgement on that.

“A force of nature,” Sirius muses. “She sounds a lot like you.”

“Oh, no,” Remus says and his eyebrows twitch. “We are nothing alike. I am lost where she knows
the way. I give up where she only starts. I have doubts and she knows all the answers.”

Sirius is not exactly sure what he means by that, it sounds very vague, but hearing Remus talk so
poorly of himself makes Sirius choke on his feelings. How can he put into words how brilliant he
thinks Remus is? There is just no way he can express that, and he has the suspicion that Remus
wouldn’t believe him anyway. Sirius just wishes he could see himself the way Sirius sees him.

“Thank you for telling me,” Sirius whispers. “It means a lot. I don’t think I ever said that back
when you told me about your family.”

Remus lets his hand wander up Sirius’ shoulder and then strokes his fingers gently over Sirius’
cheekbone, barely even touching. Sirius can still feel his fingers trembling a tiny bit.

“I– I never told anybody,” Remus admits.

Sirius raises his eyebrows involuntarily. “Nobody? Really?”

“My friends know, of course,” he says. “I don’t even know how, the news just travelled on its own.
Most… Most of them were friends of Helen’s as well. You know Markus? He was her boyfriend.”

“Oh.” That’s a new piece of information for Sirius. He can’t believe he thought for a second that
Markus might be Remus’ partner… “Did you move together before or after..?”

Remus huffs a laugh. “Umm. Neither? I don’t know, it’s a bit confusing.” He chews on his lip.
“That apartment… it was my parents’. We grew up there. I moved out when I was… what?
Nineteen? Twenty? Something like that. Helen stayed. And when she got together with Markus, he
was kicked out of his place at some point. So, my parents allowed him to move in.”
Sirius can’t help the shocked expression. Remus’ flat is actually his childhood home?

“After the accident, I moved back in,” Remus continues, confirming Sirius’ suspicion. “And
Markus stayed as well. So… I guess we moved together after? But we sort of lived there before
already.”

“So, your room was your childhood bedroom?” Sirius asks with a smile.

Remus looks at him for a moment and averts his gaze. “No… It was Helen’s. I– Markus didn’t–
Couldn’t stay in it. And I… I guess I feel closer to her that way, you know?”

Sirius’ heart breaks at his tone. This… Sirius is no expert when it comes to appropriately dealing
with grief, but even to him, this sounds unhealthy. Not exactly helpful when you’re trying to get
over the death of your family to move back into your old home where everything reminds you of
them. Into your sister’s bedroom…

“Why did he stay at all? Why did you move back in?” Sirius asks, feeling like he’s prying.

But Remus just shrugs with one shoulder, unbothered. “I inherited it. And I can’t exactly afford
paying rent in Berlin, not with that job. So, it was more or less practical.” It sounds a lot like a
made-up reason to Sirius. Flats can be rented out or sold – Remus could have bought a smaller one
somewhere from the money. “And… It’s my home, you know? It’s all I have left.”

This sounds more like the real reason.

Sirius can’t exactly relate to that, to be completely honest. He despises his old house – if it was his
call to make, that horrible place would be burned down or sold off for a penny to some homeless
shelter or something. He can’t imagine anything worse than having to move back in there. They
haven’t talked about it, but he has a strong suspicion that Regulus feels similarly about that issue.
Well, someday they’ll have to make a decision about that.

“I understand,” Sirius says. “I like your flat.”

Remus smiles, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. “I’ll get you keys made as well,” he says
softly.

“You don’t have to,” Sirius assures him. “I didn’t give you mine so you’d have to reciprocate.”

Remus bites his lip, still smiling, and Sirius traces his fingers over the dip of his dimple –
something he itched to do for a while now since he first noticed them. “I want to,” he says and then
his smile turns into a cheeky grin. “Besides, what do I have to worry about? I know where you live
now.”

Sirius scoffs. “I see, you already think the best of me,” he grumbles jokingly and laughs when
Remus rolls on top of him, pinning him down into the mattress.

“I do,” he murmurs into Sirius’ lips.

“Mhm,” Sirius hums sarcastically. “Sure, you do.”

The kiss is soft and slow, and Sirius’ stomach swoops deliciously at the feeling of Remus’ whole
body pressed against his, the weight of him on top of Sirius, the way he tugs gently on his lip.
Sure, the sex is great, phenomenal even, but this is even better. Remus kisses, just like he does
everything, with full dedication. Nothing about it is calculated or performative, it’s a raw
expression of his feelings and if Sirius had any doubts about what he means to Remus, this kiss
 would have wiped them away.

Remus gasps softly and keens when Sirius trails his fingers through the hair on his nape and tugs a
little. It’s absolutely maddening how responsive he is, how unhinged and open he allows himself to
be around Sirius, how quickly he lets go.

The kiss becomes deeper, a slow fire starting to burn between them, but in no way less unhurried.
It’s almost lazy, the way Remus smooths his hand down Sirius’ naked chest and rubs his nipple,
the way he arches into him – already hot and hard.

Sirius smiles into the kiss, his lips pleasantly swollen from it, and feels a smile in return. He traces
the outlines of his tattoos, the metaphorical wings that could very well be literal, counts the bumps
of Remus’ spine with his fingers, runs his palm over the two dips at the bottom of his back where
he now knows they are.

Remus sighs contently, his hips moving slowly, almost naturally, against Sirius’. Just skin on skin,
their cocks rubbing against each other, legs tangled. Sirius drinks in all his breaths, all his soft
moans, all the unspoken words that travel between them – never breaking the kiss.

And when Remus’ movements get faster, jerkier, he wraps his arm around him and holds him
back, slowing him down. Remus whines a little into his mouth, the muscles on his back tensing
under Sirius’ palm, but complies and follows Sirius’ lead.

Sirius doesn’t know how long this lasts – ages, for all he cares – his brain completely signs off.
There is nothing on his mind besides the smell of Remus, the soft feeling of his skin, the smooth
glide between them. He knows Remus is on edge, can feel him shuddering softly with every thrust,
notices the way his fingers tighten on his shoulders. The build-up is incredibly long, almost
unbearably sweet, overwhelmingly slow.

But even as Sirius, surprisingly, comes first, or feels Remus follow him a short while later,
continuously moaning into his mouth, it’s the kiss that is the best part of all of this. Not the sex.

Sirius almost can’t believe that he waited so long to kiss him. That he didn’t do it sooner, during
the dozen opportunities he’s had before. That he unknowingly deprived himself of that joy. On the
other hand, he’s not sure this would feel as meaningful if it happened sooner.

At least his own attitude would have been completely different – there would be a clear sexual
undertone, expectation even, if they’d done it sooner. And while there is nothing wrong with that,
Sirius values the weeks he spent just being with Remus more than if he had been with Remus.

Now, it just feels right. Unavoidable, even. There were no and won’t be any awkward dinner dates,
any cliché conversations, any careful tiptoeing around each other to determine whether they would
fit together. Everything is just so easy now.

This must be the magic of Remus fucking Lupin.

God, Sirius loves him.

Chapter End Notes

Oh Gott - Oh God
Ach du Scheiße - Holy shit

I think this is one of my favourite chapters, after the 8th, of course. Tell me what you
think of it :)
 With you, „until death do us part” suddenly sounds very bearable
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

In einem Februar, der schrecklich war, wie jedes Jahr (In a February that was terrible like every
year)

Warf das Barfenster warmes Gold gegen den Regentag (The bar window threw warm gold against
the rainy day)

Wo drinnen wir am Reden waren (Where inside we were talking)

Bis ich vergessen hab, dass ich schon zu oft verkackt hab (Till I forgot I'd fucked up too many
times before)

Doch der Stuhl, auf dem ich sitz, (But the chair I'm sitting in)

Ist dieses eine Mal nicht nur ein Stuhl sondern der Stuhl bei Günther Jauch, (This time it's not just
a chair, it's the chair of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?”)

Von dem Typ der die Million geknackt hat (Of the guy who scored the million.)

– Prinz Pi, Glück

April seems to stretch forever and, at the same time, rush past like a high-speed train for Sirius. A
lot of things changed very quickly, throwing him for a loop, but by the end of the month, he feels
like he gets into a comfortable routine.

He still goes out to run every morning, using the time to explore his part of the city more. He
discovers small parks, charming streets and peculiar nooks wherever he goes. A café that is also a
florist, the sitting room filled with even more plants than Remus’ place; a butcher that sells meat
specifically for cats and dogs; an interesting art installation that looks like a mini-zen-garden on a
random street corner.

On weekends, Remus stays over at his flat after work, and Sirius tries to let him sleep long enough
without disturbing him, which is quite easy – Remus can not only sleep anywhere anytime but also
with any kind of background noise. Most times, Sirius draws or paints while Remus sleeps in his
bed, and more often than not he is the subject of his works – the slope of his back and hip, the
blanked slid off at some point; the curve of his lips, the sharp wing of his Cupid’s bow, the soft
edge of his lower lip melting almost seamlessly into his skin, the laughing lines at the corners,
visible even when he sleeps; the springy structure of his hair, the golden curls making a striking
contrast to Sirius’ dark pillowcase.

“Good morning,” Remus mumbles when he wakes up, even before he opens his eyes, and Sirius’
pencil stills on the paper. He grins and opens his arms wide as an invitation Sirius can’t ever resist.

“Good morning,” Sirius returns and laughs when Remus scoops him up and drags him under the
blankets with him.

“You know what I want to know,” Remus says with a smile and kisses his palm softly before
planting his cheek on it as if it’s his own and he’s preparing to fall asleep to a bedtime story.

Sirius knows, of course. “It was a good day,” he announces. “I saw four dogs! One was very big,
but I don’t know the breed, and another was an old German Shephard. But! There were two French
Bulldogs, and one was tiny, and she had a small yellow raincoat on.”

Remus grins brightly. “Cute,” he coos. “I also want a yellow raincoat!”

“I’m surprised you don’t have one already,” Sirius huffs, amused. “How do you not have a yellow
raincoat, babe?”

“I don’t know,” Remus says, exaggeratedly disappointed. “It’s a great mistake. I need to get on
that. Maybe next autumn.”

Work is boring and draining as usual, although it is now made bearable since Sirius, for once, has a
life outside of it. Maybe it’s because he’s slowly coming out of his shell or it’s just a natural
development after working there for a couple of months, but he manages to maintain some pleasant
work friendships. Sirius mentors Duc, and only gets annoyed every other time the guy says
something stupid. He exchanges jabs and jokes with Marlene, always slightly swaying either
towards comradery or competition. He even builds nice relationships with some of their clients that
are almost companionable.

Sirius actually makes a merch design for Peter, and he obviously likes it, but still refuses to take it.
Sirius hides a smirk, sending him the portfolios of potential designers and setting up briefings that
Peter has to lead instead of doing it himself. After a string of infuriating discussions with multiple
designers, which is in no way the designers’ fault and in every way due to Peters inability to
formulate a coherent assignment, he finally relents and picks Sirius’ proposal.

Sirius makes sure to charge him even more than he initially wanted to, just for the extra hassle of
arranging all those fruitless meetings. Peter swallows it without complaints, that moron.

Remus introduces Sirius to his friends, naturally and matter-of-factly – by taking Sirius along to
some outings with them, or small-circle board game nights, or spontaneous barbecues in parks. Lily
is one of the friends that seems to appear more often than not on those occasions, and Sirius
appreciates how kind and welcoming she is to him even though they don’t really know each other.

Sirius especially grows to like Markus, whom he sees a lot more often just by being at Remus’ flat.
He has this German dry humour Sirius finds absolutely hilarious and is just a very relaxed and chill
dude, contrary to Remus who often acts like he has an eternal fire under his ass. They get along so
well, in fact, that they stayed up multiple times until the wee hours of the morning, despite Remus
having begged off to bed already and Sirius having to work the next day, just sitting in the kitchen,
drinking beers and chatting.

“Oh God, you’re drunk, aren’t you?” Remus asks sleepily when Sirius tries and fails to sneak into
bed without waking him up after one of those nights.

“Noo,” Sirius drawls with a grin and scoffs. “Of course not!”

Remus giggles into the crook of his neck, clinging to Sirius with all four limbs like a koala to a
eucalyptus tree. “I haven’t seen you drunk since my birthday,” he says, delighted. “I was
wondering how I can get you to drink tequila with me again.”
“No more tequila,” Sirius groans and buries his face in Remus’ hair. He smells like shampoo, and
sleep, and home. “I had the worst hangover of my life.”

“Heh,” Remus huffs. “That’s not tequila. That’s just you. We’re not twenty anymore, it gets worse
and worse every year.”

Sirius sighs. “When I was eighteen, I thought I just didn’t get hangovers,” he admits. “I thought it
was a superpower. I was like ‘yep, I’m just built different, losers’ and would run off to practice like
an arsehole.”

Remus’ shoulders shake with laughter. “Ach, you sweet, innocent soul,” he presses out. “Where is
your superpower now?”

“Gone,” Sirius says gravely. “Along with the ability to sleep on planes and not get back pain from
just existing.”

“Yeah.” Remus laughs again. “My back hurts right now, actually. How did this happen? I literally
did nothing today.”

“Shush.” Sirius presses a loud kiss to his forehead. “I’m convinced you’ve got a fake ID and you’re
actually not a day older than twenty-one.”

“Sorry to break it to you…” Remus whispers conspiratorially. “But I’m actually twenty-one and a
half. Am I too old for you? Will you replace me with a fresh, plump twenty-year-old now?”

They both laugh and the room spins so much that Sirius is afraid to close his eyes. “Never,” he
murmurs into Remus’ temple. “I don’t laugh because you’re funny. I laugh because that’s
ridiculous.”

Remus just grins into his neck, his hug tightening around Sirius.

On the evenings when they don’t see each other, Sirius slowly works on his art. He doesn’t do it to
build some kind of portfolio, or with a clear goal in mind. It’s just fun. An activity that allows him
to decompress in a similar but, at the same time, very different fashion to exercise. When Sirius is
running, his thoughts wander off – a way for his brain to process things that don’t get enough
space during the day while his body can shake off any built-up tension. When Sirius makes art, his
mind is occupied, concentrated, he’s thinking about nothing but what he’s doing at the moment –
allowing some space from oppressing thoughts and worries that creep in every now and then, and
giving his body the opportunity to relax after a long day.

Remus absolutely loves his drawings, and Sirius stopped being shy about it when he was met with
genuine excitement and support every time Remus got his fingers on them. Sirius doesn’t explicitly
show him – there is nothing to show, really, it’s not like he’s doing anything worthwhile – but he
catches Remus leafing through his sketchbooks every now and then, or, on multiple occasions,
actually stealing some of his loose-leaf drawings with a look that says, ‘I decided these are mine
now, try and fight me’. It’s cute.

“Do you mind?” Sirius asks him once, after walking in on Remus looking through the most recent
studies Sirius has done of him. It’s never a whole portrait, more like sketches, or ripped out of
context body parts.

Remus looks over his shoulder with a confused expression. “Me? Why would I?”
Sirius shrugs and comes up to hug him from the back. He’s a bit too short to rest his chin on
Remus’ shoulder comfortably, so he just presses his forehead to his shoulder blade, right where he
knows the wing tattoo is under the soft material of his t-shirt.

“I never asked if you were okay with it,” Sirius says apologetically.

Remus puts his hands over Sirius’ on his stomach and sways a little from side to side. “No, of
course, I don’t mind. These are amazing.” Sirius can hear his grin even though he can’t see it.
“You can draw me like one of your French girls.”

There he goes, quoting Titanic of all things. Sirius grins. “Will I be able to convince you to pose
nude for me?”

Remus laughs and drawls, “Oh my God, I’m blushing!” while not blushing even a little bit. “Okay,
why not. But I might be slightly turned on by that.”

“I didn’t doubt that one second,” Sirius murmurs and lets his hand wander lower over Remus’
stomach. “But things like that take time. You’d have to sit very still.”

Remus swallows audibly and Sirius can feel his breathing get faster a tiny bit. “How long?” he asks
hoarsely.

Sirius hums, smiling, just the tips of his fingers dipping under the elastic of Remus’ pants where
his lower stomach contracts automatically. “Hours,” he says suggestively. “And you’ll have to sit
there, not moving, while I watch you very, very closely.”

“Oh, fuck…” he mumbles and leans further into Sirius’ arms. “And you’ll be able to just look at
me and not touch?”

“It will be very difficult,” Sirius agrees. “You’d look gorgeous, all hot and hard for me.” Remus
lets out a little whimper and tightens his grip on Sirius’ other hand where it’s still resting in his
stomach. “But I will be very busy drawing you, every single part of you. You like it when I draw,
don’t you?”

“Yes,” Remus whispers and his breath hitches when Sirius dips his fingers lower. He can feel
Remus hard cock with the back of his palm. “You look very hot when you draw.”

“Mhh.” Sirius presses flush against him from behind, his own erection unmistakably against
Remus’ ass. “And remember, you can’t touch yourself or move at all. Not until I finished.”

“I– I don’t think I could do it,” Remus admits but is clearly very turned on by the idea. The gasp he
lets out when Sirius finally takes him in his palm could seem theatrical if Sirius didn’t know how
easily Remus tumbles into feverish neediness when done right.

“Would you try? For me?” Sirius asks slyly, accompanying his request with light, barely-there
strokes.

Remus’ hips buck, seeking friction, and Sirius hides a grin against his tense shoulder when it fails,
and he moans a little in frustration. “I might have to tactically fuck you before then,” Remus
suggests.

Sirius continues the teasing, rubbing his thumb lightly over Remus’ already leaking slit. “Where’s
the fun in that?”

“Fun for whom?” Remus asks, a bit annoyed, and clasps Sirius hand on his stomach almost
painfully. “Schatz, come on– You’re going to kill me…”

“I promise, you’ll have fun afterwards,” Sirius assures him suggestively and sucks on the junction
between his shoulder and neck, quite harshly in contrast to the way he’s softly pumping Remus,
barely touching him at all. “Whatever you want.”

Remus moans, either from Sirius’ words or from his touches, but then gives in, “Okay. Okay, yes,
I’ll do it…” He makes a choked noise at the back of his throat when Sirius tightens his fist
instantly at his agreement.

Sirius doesn’t actually mean it – he doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold off from touching Remus the
moment he sees him horny and needy, just like Remus rightfully mentioned. He’d probably be
there, on his knees in front of him instantly as soon as Remus would give him that heavy-lidded
look he does when he gets hard. Sirius just likes to tease him.

Needless to say, the sex is still incredible. Actually, it gets even better every time – the more they
get to know each other and their bodies, the more intense it gets. Before Remus, Sirius would get
bored of his partners rather quickly when it came to sex – it seldom lived up to the expectation, or
he would get slightly turned off by some things they did, and just lose interest. He was a bit afraid
that the same thing would happen with Remus, but, really, that was silly of him. He doesn’t think
it’s possible to get bored of Remus Lupin.

And that it’s not just sex, makes everything a thousand times better. They might still not have
gotten to the point where they can actually finish a film without getting distracted by each other,
but maybe one day they will work up to at least an episode of a TV show. They do reasonably well
in public, even though Remus seems to despise the idea of not touching Sirius at least once every
five minutes. It would be a bit annoying if Sirius wasn’t so in love with him – with how there is
always either one of Remus’ fingers hooked in Sirius’ belt loop, or his leg swung over Sirius’ knee,
or his shoulder pressed against Sirius’, or his palm on Sirius’ lower back. When they are not
together, Sirius almost physically aches for these small touches.

Whenever they are not busy exploring each other, Remus shows Sirius more of his life.

He takes him around his neighbourhood again, pointing out more personal things – the playground
he used to go to as a child (the one he bragged about spreading saliva all over), his old primary
school (now modernized and almost unrecognizable), his old secondary school (where they run
into one of his old teachers), the house where his mom’s workshop used to be (now a children’s
shoe boutique), the grocery shop where he had his first job as a student (still as run-down and
shady as it used to be, apparently), a knobbly old tree in some random backyard where Remus used
to hang out with friends (a place of many of his first times – first cigarette, first kiss, first break
up), the place where he fucked up his knee years ago (the street sign is still a bit wonky). Sirius
takes up all the information like a sponge, never tiring of being amazed by how much of Remus’
history is rooted in that part of town.

He shows Sirius his favourite books, many of which Sirius has never heard of, his favourite films
(or tries to, at least), his favourite shows.

He plays Sirius his favourite music on the old record player in his room – a peculiar mix of 2000’
pop-punk and German music that he himself ironically described as ‘allegedly deep basic bitch
rap’.

“I can’t believe you’ve been in Berlin for months and haven’t heard Prinz Pi,” Remus grumbles,
letting his finger run over the stack of records with a pensive expression. “His newer stuff is not my
cup of tea… Ugh, where is it… But ‘Rebell ohne Grund’ and ‘Kompass ohne Norden’? Fucking
amazing albums.”

Sirius has no idea who or what Remus is talking about. He’s just been fucked to the edge of his life
and his mind is still a bit dazed, so he just lazily watches how Remus goes through one of his
restless human-zoomies, inexplicably gaining a second breath after the sex. Maybe Sirius should
take him out for a walk later, he thinks with amusement. Like a dog that needs to work off some
energy. Sirius really thinks that Remus would benefit from some form of organized exercise, an
outlet for all his built-up tension.

“Here,” Remus says and fumbles with the needle, “I wanted to play you this song for a while
now.”

Accompanied by the first piano notes, Remus gets back into bed and straddles Sirius’ hips with a
soft smile on his lips, eyes big and shiny behind his glasses – the old, gold-rimmed ones. Sirius
smiles back and winds his arms around his waist, pulling him closer – almost a knee-jerk reaction
for him by now. Remus cards his hands through Sirius’ hair and leans in for a kiss.

In the background, Prinz Pi is steadily reciting a rap in German – Sirius can’t understand the
meaning behind the words, but it sounds calming, almost romantic. And the kiss is soft and sweet,
Remus’ fingers drawing small circles over the back of his head. With a smile, he starts mouthing
along, his lips still touching Sirius’ and… Weirdly, it feels like Sirius is being serenaded to.

“Can you translate?” Sirius asks curiously.

Remus grins wider, eyes full of mirth. “No,” he says. “You better start learning German, maybe
you’ll understand then.”

That night, when Sirius is alone in his flat, he looks up the lyrics and their translation. And,
suddenly, he’s very glad that Remus is off on an evening shift and not present for this. Because
Sirius doesn’t know if he could survive the mortification of almost tearing up at song lyrics in front
of Remus. This is maybe the most romantic thing Remus has ever done and he has done a lot of
those.

Fuck, Sirius loves him. If he could only say it…

That same night, Sirius researches German language courses. Because even though you could
probably spend your whole life in Berlin and go by with only speaking English, Remus was right.
Sirius should put some effort into learning the language of the country he’s living in now.

He has thought about it before, obviously. But he either couldn’t muster enough motivation or
chased the thoughts away by reasoning that he’ll probably move on to Paris soon anyway – there
he at least already spoke the language. That was before he met Remus, of course.

Now seems like the right time to finally go through with it. With a fair amount of nervousness,
Sirius books a course.

***
Sirius is just about to sit down to do some drawing when the familiar sound of something hitting
the glass of one of his windows makes him look up and smile. Oh, there he goes again with his
shenanigans…

When he looks out, Remus is lounging against a lamppost. He grins and points a finger at Sirius,
and then at himself. “You! Me! This new hipster fusion whateverthefuck restaurant in Mitte.
Now.”

Sirius laughs at him. “Oh my God! How did you know? Whateverthefuck is my most favourite
thing ever!”

Remus wiggles his eyebrows. “Mine too! I knew it was meant to be. Now come down, I might
have had to book a table there, and we might already be late for it, oops.”

This is so typical of Remus that Sirius barely contains an eye roll. If he thought that the times of
Remus spontaneously appearing at his doorstep and whisking him away to God-knows-where were
over just because they were together now, he was horribly mistaken. Some things never change,
and Sirius is glad that this is one of them.

“What does one wear to eat a thing so exquisite as whateverthefuck?” Sirius asks with a grin.

Remus just waves a hand dismissively. “You’re overdressed for everything anyway. Besides,
someone with a face like yours will get into anywhere.”

Abandoning his plans for a quiet evening and pre-emptively resigning himself to the craziness that
is a night out with Remus Lupin, Sirius pounds down the stairs eagerly. They haven’t seen each
other in a couple of days already – Remus had to work evenings, Sirius had to work overtime, and
their schedules just didn’t align this week. He actually thought Remus was busy tonight as well.

Remus is bouncing on the tips of his toes impatiently when he walks out and promptly steers them
down the street to the train station. Berlin got hit by a premature heatwave this past week and the
temperature scratches on twenty degrees even as the sun is setting. Remus has taken off his hoodie
– the snow-white one Sirius remembers from the first-ever time he met him – and the edges of his
wings tattoo peek out over his rainbow-striped t-shirt collar.

“A face like mine, huh?” Sirius asks, eying him.

“Yeah,” Remus agrees readily. “Scares all the bouncers away.”

Sirius vindictively steps on the back of his shoe as they walk down to the trains. Remus glares at
him, but the corner of his mouth is twitching traitorously. “Hey! These are my new dress-up
shoes.”

With an eye roll, Sirius shoves him lightly into the opening doors of the train. “These are literally
the same Vans you wear every day.”

“What do you know?!” Remus scoffs. “I might have seven pairs of those!”

“And all of them look like shit,” Sirius remarks and grins.

“Careful,” Remus advises and laughs. “With a face like yours, I wouldn’t go out on a limb like
that.”

They laugh at each other and Sirius wonders, for the millionth time, how it can be so easy with
Remus.
When they get to the restaurant, tucked away in some side street next to the Hackescher Markt,
there is a long line of people already waiting there. Light projectors at the entrance are spinning
wildly like on some runway show, and music streams out on the street from the open doors.

Remus ignores the line completely and just strides in as if he owns this place, an air of confidence
around him that Sirius still can’t exactly decide what to make of yet. Is it real? Is it fake? No one
knows, but it certainly works well because the waiter, dressed head-to-toe in black leather, seats
them instantly.

“I know the sister of the owner,” Remus brags smugly as they get their menus. “He’s an absolute
jerk. I sincerely hope this place closes after a month.”

Sirius laughs and shakes his head in exasperation. “What’s so bad about him?”

This restaurant seems to be some sort of fusion between Korean and Mexican cuisine. Sirius eyes
the fancifully short list of meals on the menu and hopes that at least it’s edible. The restaurant itself
is looking pretty nice – high ceilings, bare concrete floors, cosy little booths instead of open tables,
and the big windows look out into a back yard with some more seating options and impressive
palm trees planted around the perimeter, however they are kept to survive Berlin’s climate.

“He’s a bully,” Remus explains. “Treated his ex-wife like dirt for the longest time. I think he’s also
in some kind of cult? Don’t ask, I have no idea.”

Sirius closes the menu and cocks his head. “Why are we even here if you hate him so much?”

Remus lifts an eyebrow. “To leave a bad yelp review afterwards. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Sirius sighs.

Another waiter comes over, all ginger hair and offensively tight leather pants, and smiles politely at
Sirius, then turns to face Remus.

“Rem, I am dying,” he says earnestly. “End my suffering.”

Remus grins at him and pats his elbow. “Sirius, this is Gideon. He’s another victim of tonight.” He
looks up at Gideon again. “We are here to offer moral support.”

“The kitchen is a mess, we didn’t get the shrimp delivery on time, Diana is smoking weed in the
staff room, and I. Just. Want. To. Die,” Gideon recounts with a dark expression. Then pulls on an
exaggerated customer-service smile. “Anyway, what can I get for you lovely people? Anything
other than shrimp?”

Sirius laughs a little at his attitude, already liking the guy. They should tip him well, this was pure
entertainment.

“I don’t even know,” Sirius admits. “What would you recommend?”

Gideon gives him a dry smile. “Nothing,” he deadpans. “The bulgogi tacos are okay.”

“I’ll take one,” Remus decides.

“Make it two,” Sirius pipes in.

“Drinks?” Gideon asks.

Remus looks at Sirius and sighs. “Anything flammable.”

“Done.” Gideon closes his eyes, takes two deep breaths that are entirely too dramatic, and walks
away.

Sirius smiles at Remus and puts his chin onto his palm, giving him exaggerated heart-eyes. “I am
blown away by how you romance me. Taking me to a horribly overcrowded restaurant that belongs
to an abusive arsehole where the staff wants to unalive themselves on the opening night. Such
couple goals.”

“Anything for you, Schatz,” Remus drawls and laughs. “I thought this would be a bit of fun. We
can gossip about how terrible this place is. I mean, what the fuck, palm trees?”

He motions at the backyard through the window and shakes his head in mock-disappointment.
Sirius huffs a laugh. At least it never gets boring with Remus.

“Let’s wait for the food to arrive,” Sirius suggests. “Maybe it’s not that bad.”

Remus clicks his tongue. “Nooo, that’s not the point! You’re too optimistic,” he whines. “Anyway,
have it your way, Mr Sunshine. How are you? How’s work?”

Sirius smiles. “Good, actually. The new merch arrived, and Peter already sent some of it off to
clients. Apparently, he also likes to run his mouth, so the news that I am the new hot start-up
design God has travelled. I already have three new inquiries.”

What he doesn’t tell is that Peter, for some reason, tried to get those run by him. As if he’s
employing Sirius for his design work – to try and get a cut, obviously. Sirius shut that down really
quickly. What a wanker.

“Wow,” Remus says and grins. “That’s awesome! You’re building a client base already!”

Sirius eyes him incredulously and huffs. He doesn’t intend on doing anything like that. He never
planned to take on any form of freelance work at all, actually. He doesn’t need the money, he has a
full-time job already and, honestly, one thing is to sell some overpriced design to Peter as a joke
but making this a real side-hustle is a whole other level.

“I’m not sure I’ll even reply,” Sirius says. “This was just a one-time thing.”

Remus gives him A Look. “I’ve seen you working on that thing you did for your company. You
enjoyed it! Why not do more?”

Well, Sirius did sort of have fun with it. But only because there was literally nothing at stake there
– if it flopped, it wouldn’t mean anything. Taking on any real assignments would be a great deal of
pressure and, again, he’s not a designer. He’s a marketing guy. Very different things.

“I’ll think about it,” Sirius relents and cocks his head. “What about you? What have you been up to
lately? Anything fun?”

Remus gives him an innocent smile. “Oh, good, good. You know, this and that.”

Sirius catches Remus’ foot between his under the table and raises his eyebrows. “And what is this
and that?”

“Stuff,” Remus says smugly.

“Stuff,” Sirius repeats pensively. With Remus, it could be anything. It might just be that he booked
a haircut, or that he decided to join the circus. Honestly, neither of those things would surprise
Sirius very much. “Do I have to torture it out of you, or will you tell me? Are you in trouble?”

Remus rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively. “Nah, I’m not in trouble, it’s nothing major.
Just some preparations for the first of May.”

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “What on the first of May?”

The disbelieving look Remus gives him makes Sirius frown. “Are you for real?” He laughs a bit.
“International Worker’s Day, duh.”

“Oh, okay,” Sirius says slowly, still not understanding. “So what?”

Remus’ face lights up then and he grins brightly. “Oh my God. Right. You haven’t been in Berlin
last year. Well, how do I explain it to you…” He rubs his chin. “Basically, there will be
demonstrations that day. They can get quite… intense.”

“Intense?” Sirius repeats.

“It’s basically a riot,” Remus says easily and grins. “You know, cars burning, barricades being
built, stones being thrown at the police, shop windows breaking, some pyrotechnics… The usual.”

Sirius gapes at him. “The usual? What the fuck? Why?”

“Welcome to Berlin,” Remus says mockingly. “Where we exercise our right for a political opinion
that contradicts the current capitalist system.”

“How leftist are you exactly?” Sirius asks, still a bit stunned by that revelation.

“Very,” Remus answers easily. “As leftist as you can possibly get, I guess.”

Sirius has never exactly been very politically involved. His family was as Tory as it gets, and of
course, he voted Labour. But this sounded way more radical than anything he witnessed back in
London.

“So, what, you’ll be there tomorrow? What have you been preparing?”

Remus shrugs. “Ah, just helping out a bit with flyers and signs. Getting stuff for myself – I needed
a new black jacket, mine was a bit… Mhh, burned last year. Some natrium chloride solution
capsules. You know, the essentials.”

“What do you need the capsules for?” Sirius asks in bewilderment.

“To rinse my eyes if I run into some pepper spray, obviously,” Remus explains nonchalantly. “It
hurts like a bitch.”

Sirius takes a long breath and shakes his head. “This sounds extreme… Are you sure about that?”

Remus grins and nods. “Of course. I’ve been going every year since I was like nineteen,” he says.
“I advise you to stay in tomorrow evening. I don’t think your neighbourhood will be in any way
involved, but Neukölln and Kreuzberg will possibly turn into a warzone.”

This does absolutely nothing to ease Sirius’ worries. He narrows his eyes. “Would you have told
me at all if I hadn’t asked?”

“Umm…” Remus smiles apologetically. “Sort of. I wanted to see you tonight in case they take me
in tomorrow, they could keep me for a day before they’d have to let me go.”
“And by ‘they’ you mean the police?” Sirius asks and slow-blinks at Remus. “Why would they do
that?”

Remus lifts his hands placatively. “I hope it won’t come to this,” he says quickly. “It didn’t happen
for years now, but who knows. It’s a possibility.”

“So, this means that it did happen to you before?” Sirius’ eyes go wide. “What did you do ?”

He grins, very self-satisfied. “I might have elbowed a police officer in the face.”

Sirius groans and sinks lower in his chair. “But why?”

Remus laughs. “Because all cops are bastards.”

“Hell yeah!” Gideon says, appearing next to them with their order in hand. They grin at each other
and Gideon high-fives Remus before leaving again. Sirius watches their interaction and sighs.

“Besides,” Remus adds, “that officer just dragged a friend of mine by the hair over the whole
street. Not cool.”

Sirius tilts his head and huffs. Yeah, that’s really not cool. “Well, at least it wasn’t because you lit
some poor guy’s car on fire,” he murmurs.

Remus laughs. “Oh, no, then I wouldn’t have gotten away so easily,” he says joyfully. “Not really
my thing. But they do make great bonfires.”

“Remus,” Sirius hisses with wide eyes. “Really? The owners of those cars probably have nothing to
do with it whatsoever. That’s not cool.”

With a playful smile, Remus cocks his head curiously and eyes Sirius. “Oh, yes, I love that
debate,” he says. “Everyone knows where the demonstration will be far in advance. Whoever
doesn’t move their car beforehand is asking for it.”

“Come on,” Sirius sighs. “These are just innocent bystanders.”

“Innocent bystanders who vote for the current government,” Remus remarks.

“You don’t know that,” Sirius argues. “A car is fucking expensive. Even with insurance, it could
be a big financial hit on that person. That’s not a criminal offence for nothing.”

Remus looks at him seriously. “I agree,” he says. “But what I would like for you to do is to
question why one or two random cars burning down gets you so bothered and enraged while the
thousands of refugees drowning in the Mediterranean Sea is just another side note. Why the
millions of workers, especially international ones, being horribly exploited doesn’t make you feel
anything. Why the constant climb of prices on rental property due to delusional landlords that
forces people out of the city and, in some cases, on the streets, is nothing that bothers you just
because you can afford it yourself.”

Sirius listens to him, feeling a toxic mixture of shame and guilt and discomfort eat through his
insides. He has the urge to argue, to debate, to hold onto his argument that one thing has nothing to
do with the other. But then Remus shakes his head, slightly disappointed.

“This is criminal,” he says. “These cars burning, or shop windows shattering, is just a reflection of
people’s hypocrisy. We are so quick to jump into self-righteous anger about
inconsequential things, easily replaceable things, being damaged. And look away when people are
 literally dying because of our apathy.”

Sirius swallows hard. “Okay…”

“Okay,” Remus says, relaxing, and looks down on the dishes in front of them. “Fuck, these look
disgusting.” He grins as if nothing happened. “Let’s try it. I have doubts that it would get any
better if it gets cold.”

Chapter End Notes

I hate song lyrics as part of stories as much as the next person, but I would ask you to
just read the lyrics of the song Remus played for Sirius here. It's the same one I
inserted at the beginning, by the way.

Also, will I ever stop writing Remus as some sort of activist fighting for a political
revolution? Naaah :D
 Curiosity killed the cat
Chapter Notes

Yeah, the sickeningly-sweet fluffy part is over :)) Sorry!

“What a bloody menace…”

Sirius slides down in his chair so low that only his head peeks out from under the table and groans
in suffering. “She will be the end of me one day.”

James huffs derisively and crosses his arms on his chest, sulking. “Can we like… I don’t know,
vote her out? This is a democracy, right?”

“I am not sure that this is how democracy works,” Sirius murmurs. “She paid for these classes after
all.”

“Whose side are you on?” James asks and shakes his head. “I just hate her with every fibre of my
heart. I live and breathe this hatred. It comes out of my pores.”

Sirius can’t help a small laugh and wrinkles his nose. “You’re way too dramatic. And, by the
way, ew.”

Sirius met James in his German language class that he started in May. It would seem like this
friendship was more out of convenience or necessity – they were the only Brits in that course, and
two of the few people that were between twenty-five and thirty years old there – but they actually
got along brilliantly from the very beginning.

James was also twenty-eight and he moved to Berlin from Scotland because of a girl around six
months ago. It was the one true love, he said to Sirius, she was The One. As it happens, the girl
didn’t think so and broke it off with James about three months after his move. So, the girl was
gone, but James decided to stay. He explained it with the fact that he found the perfect flat, which
was a pretty solid reason to stay for Berlin’s standards, but Sirius suspected that he still had hopes
of getting back together with his ex-girlfriend.

He exclusively wore t-shirts from seventies rock bands, was absolutely mad for football and had
the striking ability to act as if he was already best friends with anyone he talked to – Sirius adored
him instantly. There wasn’t even a need to become his friend. It was like they’ve been best friends
for their whole life already, or at least James behaved as if that was the case, and Sirius apparently
had an affinity for easygoing people.

“Oh, God, there she comes…” James whisper-shouts and Sirius snorts a laugh, watching how the
most hated student in their class comes back from the short toilet break the teacher announced an
hour into the lesson.

Her name was Iva, she was barely twenty years old while somehow looking twelve and sixty-two
at the same time. It was mind-boggling, really. Sirius would feel bad for hating on that young girl
if she wasn’t the bitchiest, most infuriating know-it-all he’s ever met. Surely, she must be an
alright person in real life, but during these classes she made everyone’s skin crawl.
Especially James’ for some reason. Sirius was still debating whether that was just an incident
where two people didn’t click at all, or that was more of a hate-love thing that sometimes
happened. He wouldn’t be surprised if, by the end of the course, they would have either killed each
other or ended up suddenly engaged. It was a fifty-fifty chance.

Sirius’ phone buzzes with a message from Remus and James, the nosey son of a bitch, leans over
and whistles suggestively. “Oh my, oh my, who’s that angel texting you?”

For a moment, Sirius is a bit confused and then he remembers the halo-emoji Remus logged into
his own contact on Sirius’ phone. Out of nostalgia, Sirius never changed that.

“Your mom,” Sirius drawls. “Wanted to tell me how great last night was.”

James looks at him flatly. “My mom is dead.”

Sirius’ eyes widen and he almost chokes. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! James, really, I–“ He stops
his rambling when James almost falls off his chair from laughter, earning a very venomous look
from Iva across the room. “You fucker…”

“Your face,” James wails and wipes his eyes, still laughing. “Serves you right. Ring-ring, the
noughties called, they want the ‘your mom’ jokes back.”

Sirius swats him over the head with the workbook and rolls his eyes. James just cackles and elbows
him in the ribs, pretending to smile innocently at the teacher who just walked in again. Sirius is
twenty-eight, he has a degree from Oxford, years of work experience, a private pension all set up
and he actually irons his clothes, but for a moment, he feels like he’s seventeen again, messing
around with friends at the back of some boring chemistry class.

“So, who is it?”

“My boyfriend,” Sirius answers truthfully and feels a bit weird saying it out loud.

Somehow, it’s still a bit of a foreign concept to him – being with a man now. It doesn’t feel weird
in the moment at all, but sometimes when Sirius is alone or, like now, in public, he catches himself
stopping in his tracks and going ‘huh, yeah, right, I am in love with a man, that’s interesting’.

He can feel that James has a lot of burning questions by the way his eyes light up but, thankfully,
the lesson resumes again, and he has to hold off for another hour during which he gives Sirius
meaningful glances which remain ignored.

“So, boyfriend?” James drawls and winks. “That’s curious. What is he like?”

Sirius sighs, packing his bag, and rolls his eyes. “Come see for yourself if you’re so curious. He’s
downstairs.”

They walk out together, and Sirius feels maybe a little bit excited to be the one to introduce Remus
to one of his friends instead of the other way around. Maybe it has also something to do with the
fact that he’s also curious about how James will think of Remus. Will he think he’s as brilliant as
Sirius thinks he is? Will they get along?

Well, that’s an obvious yes; there is no one Remus would not get along with, and especially if that
person is James – the human embodiment of a Golden Retriever. Remus has a thing for dogs, after
all.

It’s already dark outside when they get out on the street – the days are longer now, but it’s an after-
work course. Remus is easy to spot with his hair glowing like a literal halo, just in line with his
favourite emoji, in the light of a streetlamp. He grins and waves at Sirius.

“Hey,” he says softly and leans in to kiss Sirius when they walk up to him. Then his eyes land on
James and his eyebrows shoot up. “What the fuck? James?!”

James is just as surprised, if not more. Then he almost jumps on Remus, crushing him into a
monstrous hug. “Remus?!” He laughs loudly and holds him back by the shoulders. “What is this
sorcery?”

Sirius looks between them, confused and amused in equal measure. “You guys know each other?”

“Yeah!” Remus grins and nods eagerly. “That’s Lily’s ex!” Then he gives James an apologetic
grimace. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

James lets him go and waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about it, mate,” he says
nonchalantly and shakes his head. “Damn, what a coincidence. Is Berlin a village?”

“It is sometimes,” Remus agrees with a laugh.

Sirius has to process this for a moment. So, James is Lily’s ex? The one who started talking about
marriage and children and all that stuff right when they met in real life the first time? The one who
followed her like a puppy for months? That James? And Lily is the girl he moved to Berlin for?
His one true love, The One and Only, yada-yada-yada?

That… actually makes a lot of sense. Sirius huffs a laugh. Wow. What a coincidence indeed.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” Remus says earnestly. “You sort of fell off the face of the earth
after… well, yeah… You do know that we can still be friends even if it didn’t work out between
you and Lils?”

James smiles, a bit strained, and Sirius makes a mental note to talk to him about the fucking mess
of a relationship that happened there. Because he’s pretty sure James is still madly in love with
Lily, while she is happily single and thanking God every day that she got rid of that clingy bloke.
Oof, what a bloody mess…

“I’m glad to hear that!” James says. “I wasn’t sure…”

Remus smiles at Sirius then, his eyes going a notch softer as he does so, which makes Sirius’
stomach churn from the flock of butterflies that start going wild. That guy…

“And you’re friends now too!” Remus exclaims, motioning between Sirius and James. “Gosh, I
love that. I was a bit sad I didn’t get the chance to introduce you to each other, I knew you’d get
along.”

“I hate him,” Sirius replies instantly.

“I fall asleep thinking about all the ways I would like to strangle him,” James chimes in.

Remus laughs happily. “See! I knew it!” He watches how Sirius and James exchange fake-
disgusted glances in amusement. “I wanted to take Sirius out for a drink, do you want to join us?”

James grins. “I’d love to! If I won’t disturb the lovebirds too much.”

“You will,” Sirius says and bumps his shoulder. “Come anyway.”
Remus leads them into the underground station to get to the bar. Sirius doesn’t even know which
one, he doesn’t bother to ask beforehand when Remus strong-arms him into going somewhere – it’s
like a surprise every time, and he’s yet to take Sirius somewhere he doesn’t like to be at. Even this
stupid fancy fusion whateverthefuck restaurant he took Sirius to as a joke had, surprisingly, very
tasty food (to Remus’ unending annoyance) and decent drinks.

The conversation they had there was more troubling than the place itself, but even that seems very
far away now. Remus did go to the demonstration, and he was completely fine – not a scratch on
him when he returned. He came to Sirius’ flat straight after, probably knowing that he was going
crazy with worry – a bit tired, but all in all quite contented and relaxed. And then, because Sirius’
emotions were running high all evening, they fucked like mad on his dining table. And everything
was good.

“So, how long have you two been together?” James asks slyly as they get out of the train and walk
up the stairs of the station.

“Like…” Remus looks over at Sirius for confirmation. “About one and a half months?”

“Officially,” Sirius adds with a chuckle. “Apparently, we’ve been casually dating for far longer
than that. I am just a bit slow.”

James raises his eyebrows and tilts his head in surprise. “So, Remus thought you were dating, and
you were… what? Hanging out with a mate?”

Sirius sighs and rolls his eyes at the way Remus hides his gloating grin. “It’s complicated. But,
yeah, sort of. I did fancy him back then as well.”

“Mhh,” James hums with a small smile as if this piece of information told him more than Sirius
thinks. “And now you’re all serious, exclusive, full-on loved up?”

God, Sirius didn’t know James was such a gossip. He’s about to say something sarcastic back
when Remus beats him to it. “You’re asking a lot of questions, James,” he says lightly. “Do you
have a problem with any of that?”

“Me?” James raises an eyebrow. “Of course, not. As long as you don’t.”

“I don’t,” Remus says seriously.

Sirius frowns and looks between them, feeling like he’s missing something, some sort of second
layer to that conversation. Why would Remus have a problem with that? If at all, Sirius was the
one basically in the closet until Remus dragged him out of it.

The bar they go to is some inconspicuous place on a corner near Remus’ flat. It has sturdy wooden
benches, an old billiard table in the corner, and it’s full of people, mostly locals from what Sirius
can tell – none of that Berlin Mitte hipster bullshit.

Remus leads them to a small table at the far back and waves to the barmaid on the way there, it’s
another place where he seems to be a regular. Sirius loves when he takes him to places like that;
where no tourist would ever go to, and the drinks menu is simple and to the point – no crazy
cocktail names, no pretentious wine assortment.

“I’ll get us some beers, yeah?” Remus suggests as they sit down and smiles at Sirius. “Weizen for
you, right? What do you want, James?”

“Surprise me,” James says and grins.

When Remus walks off to the bar, James turns bodily to Sirius with an expression of utter shock on
his face.

“What?” Sirius asks, confused.

“Remus fucking Lupin,” James says, unknowingly repeating a thought Sirius has at least once a
day. “You landed Remus fucking Lupin?!”

“Err…” Sirius laughs a bit, glancing over to Remus who is leaning over the bar now, chatting
animatedly with the barmaid. “Yeah, obviously.”

“No, not obviously!” James exclaims. “I can’t believe this… You and Remus Lupin?”

Sirius frowns at him. “James, you clearly have something to say. So just spit it out.”

He makes big eyes and shakes his head. “I never thought I’d see the day…” He leans over and
lowers his voice. “How much do you know about Remus’ relationships before you came around?”

Sirius hesitates for a moment. They didn’t actually talk about past relationships yet – Remus never
said anything, and Sirius didn’t think it was his place to pry. If he wanted to tell him, he’d do that
on his own. If not, it didn’t really matter.

“Not much, why?” Sirius admits.

“Because there is nothing to tell,” James says, having expected that answer. “Without meaning to
sound rude, but Remus Lupin is the biggest slut.”

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “Say that again.” He also leans closer challengingly. “Did you just call
my boyfriend a slut?”

James shakes his head again and raises his hands placatively. “I don’t pass any judgement on that,
believe me,” he says. “I’m just telling you. Remus doesn’t do relationships. He fucks around, like,
a lot. Like, really, a lot.”

It feels like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over Sirius’ head, hearing James say these
things. Sirius feels dirty even listening to it. He won’t participate in trash-talking his own
boyfriend, Remus of all people, with anyone, even James.

“I don’t know what you’re alluding to,” Sirius says slowly, levelling James with a grave look. “But
I would appreciate it if you stopped.”

“I’m sorry,” James says earnestly and sighs. “Really, I’m not judging him or anything. I just… I
don’t want you to get hurt, or… Maybe have expectations he wouldn’t be able to fulfil.”

Sirius cocks his head and regards James thoughtfully. “I appreciate your concern, even though it is
none of your business,” he says. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“If you say so, mate,” James relents. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m just surprised. And happy
for you, really.”

Sirius nods but doesn’t have the time to reply because Remus walks over with their drinks and sets
them down heavily on the tabletop. “Here you go,” he announces and slides onto the bench next to
Sirius. “Sorry for leaving you alone like that. I haven’t seen Claudia in ages, and she wanted to
catch up.”
“Nah, all’s good,” James says with a smile. “Thanks for the beer.”

Remus tugs up the sleeves of his bright-pink sweatshirt (Sirius adores that thing, it has a huge print
of a dalmatian on the front) and then puts one hand on Sirius’ knee under the table, squeezing
lightly. “So, how are the German classes going? Learned anything fun yet?”

James and Remus settle into a comfortable conversation, chatting and joking easily; first about the
classes, then about some mutual friends James hasn’t seen in a while, then about some things they
did together when James was still with Lily. Sirius only half-listens, Remus’ sturdy shoulder and
warm hand a steady presence while he mulls over what James has said.

So, Remus has been sleeping around a lot before Sirius. It feels strongly like another puzzle piece
in Sirius’ mental picture of who Remus Lupin is – he’s still adding to it every once in a while, but
this is a revelation he hadn’t anticipated.

It’s not like Sirius is particularly bothered by it. He’s had his own fair share of mindless fun,
especially at school and at the start of uni, in between the girlfriends he had then. After that, he sort
of became a serial monogamist. Mostly because of societal expectations, partly because having
meaningless sex wasn’t as fulfilling, he found. Not that the relationships he had after that have
been very fulfilling either, but he at least suspected that the almost-apathy he felt every time he
took a girl home was largely due to the lack of any commitment.

And, really, Remus having had many partners before is not something that is particularly
surprising. He’s twenty-eight, he’s been working in the nightlife for a while now, he’s a very good-
looking man, he lives in Berlin where the queer scene is very prominent, he’s charming and
easygoing. Of course, there would be a lot of people ready to spend a night with him. And why
wouldn’t Remus use that to his advantage if he was single?

The thing that bothers Sirius though is the genuine surprise on James’ face when he said,
‘You landed Remus Lupin?’.

He didn’t think Remus was completely opposed to being in a monogamous relationship before. He
never made that kind of impression on Sirius. If anything, he seemed very eager to be with Sirius.
He was the one who initiated their contact with his ridiculous jacket-trading-stunt. He was the one
who took Sirius out all those times. He was the one who said he loved Sirius even before there was
anything definitive between them. He asked Sirius to clarify that they were really, actually,
seriously together that same night.

Sirius didn’t doubt his sincerity before. He maybe had his fears about Remus changing his mind,
moving on quickly, or not thinking this through properly before diving head-first into it. But he
didn’t think that any of it was for show.

But he also didn’t know that this was, apparently, very off-brand for him. Did he really just meet
Sirius after not being interested in relationships before and decided that he was the one? Did he
find it annoying – being with only one person, sleeping in the same bed, seeing each other so
often? Did he miss having sex with other people?

Sirius feels a seedling of doubt being planted in his mind and his heart clenches painfully. Because
he loves Remus so very much. What if this wouldn’t hold in the end?

***
“Is everything okay?” Remus closes the door to his bedroom behind himself and rubs Sirius’
shoulder soothingly while turning the lights on with his phone. “You’ve been awfully quiet all
evening.”

Sirius sighs. It is silly, really. It shouldn’t matter. If James didn’t say anything, Sirius would have
probably never known – it wouldn’t change the fact that it is what it is, so why is knowing
bothering him so much now?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Sirius says and rubs his forehead. “Just something that James said. It doesn’t
matter.”

Remus hums. “I thought he might have said something that upset you. When I came back from the
bar you were all…” He makes a vague motion with his hand. “Turned in on yourself. Do you want
to talk about it?”

Does Sirius want to talk about it?

No, not really. It’s none of his business what Remus did before they’ve met, just as it isn’t James’.
And Sirius feels slightly guilty for letting it bother him even a little bit. But… would it get better if
he sat on it for longer? Or would it just make him go mad?

“He said…” Sirius pauses and looks at Remus. “He was very surprised that we got together. He
said you don’t do relationships.”

Remus’ face does something complicated, a quick change of emotions Sirius struggles to place. He
tilts his head and clicks his tongue. “James should worry about his own life,” Remus says,
annoyed.

“That’s what I told him, don’t worry,” Sirius mutters.

Remus walks over to the bed and sits down on the ledge around it, shoulders slumped. He looks up
at Sirius. “You do know that that’s not true, right?”

“Do I?” Sirius asks, raising his eyebrows. “He said you basically just fuck around. He said he
was worried for me. How do you think it makes me feel? Hearing something like that from a
person I’ve known for a couple of weeks.”

Remus frowns. “I… I am not responsible for what someone else says.”

Sirius huffs. “Yeah, sure. But I would have liked to hear that from you, and not from a stranger.”

He is quiet for a long time, looking at the floor. When he raises his head again, his face is hard.
“Hear what?” he asks bitterly. “What did you want me to tell you? How many men I’ve fucked?
Rank them from one to ten? Share some juicy details? What?”

Sirius is a little taken aback by his biting tone. Experiencing Remus like this, all bristled and
snappy, is new for him. And especially in contrast to his usually so cheerful demeanour, this
reaction shows that this topic could be a sore spot for him.

“Maybe not like that,” Sirius says. “But you could have said something along the lines of, ‘Oh,
hey, by the way, I haven’t had any long-term relationships before and was more into casual sex,
just a heads-up’.”
Remus bites his lip and closes his eyes for a moment. “Maybe…” He clears his throat. “Maybe I
was afraid to give you a heads-up. Maybe I’m not exactly proud of how I’ve been handling things
before.” Then he looks at Sirius sharply. “But I refuse to be shamed for it. I have done nothing
wrong.”

With a sigh, Sirius comes over and sits down next to him – this dynamic where he is standing over
Remus while he feels like he has to defend himself was starting to grate on Sirius’ nerves.

“I’m not shaming you for anything,” Sirius says softly. “I was just… I don’t know, surprised? You
didn’t make an impression of someone who is new to relationships to me.”

Remus turns to face him, drawing one knee up on the bench, and cocks his head. “Maybe because
I’m not?” he asks challengingly. “James can have his own opinions, but only because he didn’t see
me dating doesn’t mean I never did. I’ve known him for less than a year. I know you like to forget
that, but I am on a strong path to being thirty as well.”

And he’s right, of course. Sirius feels a bit bad for taking James’ words at face value instantly.

“Okay,” Sirius relents. “I’m working with what I’ve got here since you don’t really talk about it
yourself.”

Remus exhales through his nose and shrugs. “There is not much to talk about,” he says quietly.
“I… I’ve been with some people before, sure. But– Well, yeah, okay, James might be right in some
respect. I haven’t really… committed to anything since– Since my family died, you know?”

“Oh.” Sirius feels a wave of pity wash over him and eyes Remus carefully. “I see… Was it because
you felt like you couldn’t or–“

Remus gives him a pained look. “Because I didn’t think I could handle getting attached to yet
another person who will inevitably leave me,” he says dryly.

Sirius doesn’t even know how to feel about that. It’s like his own fears are being reflected back to
him, but tenfold.

“What changed?”

“I guess…” Remus smiles a little. “I didn’t meet anyone who would make it worth it before you.
No pressure, by the way.”

They both laugh a little and Sirius drags a hand through his hair self-consciously. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Remus says kindly. “I knew that it would come up one day, I just didn’t think it would
come from James of all people. I don’t know if he’s just nosey or really that fond of you that he
would bring this up like that.”

Sirius worries his lip a little. “He made it sound like… I don’t know, like you would dump me any
second, or that I’m delusional for thinking this is more than just sex. Or… maybe that you would
cheat on me or something…”

Remus’ face goes dark. “Sirius, you know I wouldn’t–“

“I know, I know!” Sirius says quickly. “I think you’re honest enough to tell me before anything
like that would happen.”

Remus rolls his eyes in exasperation and sighs. “It won’t,” he promises firmly.
“Do you…” Sirius debates whether he should even say it out loud or not, but now he’s started, and
Remus is looking straight at him, and… “Do you miss sleeping with other people?”

And instantly he wishes he didn’t ask it. Because the expression on Remus’ face looks like Sirius
might have as well just punched him and he would be hurt less.

“What? No!” He shakes his head as if confused why Sirius would even ask that. “Fuck, are you
serious?”

“Sorry, I– I shouldn’t have said it…”

“My God… “ Remus lets out a pained laugh that is anything but humorous and fists his hair with
both hands in desperation, looking somewhere past Sirius. “I don’t even know– How?! Tell
me, how can I say it in a way that will make you understand? I love you. Sirius, I love you.”

It makes Sirius’ heart bleed. And he’s not even sure it’s in a metaphorical way, he wouldn’t be
surprised if he started coughing up real blood right now with the way Remus is looking at him.
Sirius feels like the biggest failure – for listening to what random people say, for confronting
Remus like that, for forcing him into defence, for making him hurt, for not being able to say it
back. Fuck, just fucking say it! Say it!

What the fuck is wrong with him?!

He must have frozen up because he gets ripped out of the war that breaks out in his mind by Remus
tugging on his wrist. He’s looking at Sirius almost pleading, eyebrows drawn up and together on
his forehead and his eyes are very clearly on the wet side.

“Don’t do this to me,” he whispers. “Don’t close off like that.”

God, what he must be thinking right now. Sirius tries not to get swept away by his guilt and shame,
and shifts to crawl into Remus’ lap. He opens his arms eagerly, tugging Sirius closer as soon as he
swings his knee over his thighs.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius murmurs, voice strained from all the emotions that are swarming his chest. He
holds Remus’ head between both hands and presses a kiss on his forehead, lingering there for a
while. Remus squeezes his middle, exhaling somewhere between his collarbones. “I believe you, of
course, I do.” Just say it! “What James said doesn’t change anything.” Just fucking say
it! “Remus…” Remus looks up at him, his eyes so green and alive, so close, Sirius can see the
golden rings around his pupils, all the little fleck of colour in his iris’. “Will you fuck me?” Fuck.

Oh, for fuck’s sake! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Sirius would have liked to slap himself, literally. He might just do that anyway, regardless of
Remus being present. Or, even better, Remus should do it. Sirius deserves it.

But Remus just lets out a little huff. “Yeah,” he says a little breathlessly and smiles. “Of course…”

And he does. Oh, how he does it. Sirius feels like he’s in heaven and going through all seven
circles of hell at the same time. He hasn’t experienced Remus being so gentle with him ever
before, not even during their first time. It’s like he puts all of himself in every single caress, every
kiss, every stroke, every glide of him inside Sirius.

Sirius chokes, chokes the whole time – on his moans, on his cries, on his tears and the feelings, the
feelings that threaten to drown him completely. All he can think is, I love you, I love you, I love
you…
All he can say is nothing. Nothing when Remus comes first, gasping and trembling and holding
onto Sirius for dear life. Nothing when he takes Sirius in his mouth, so overwhelmingly good,
making Sirius’ head spin. Nothing when they lay together afterwards, sheets damp and rumpled,
their legs tangled together and foreheads touching.

Never in his life has Sirius been so incredibly happy and, at the same time, so utterly disgusted with
himself.
 What comes after vanilla
Chapter Notes

Ohhh, y'all aren't ready for the smut in this chapter...

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Du schreist Hurra in mein Gesicht (You scream hooray in my face)

Hurra Hurra und dann kommt Licht (Hooray hooray and then comes light)
In all mein Schwarz dein grellstes Blinken (Into all my black your brightest twinkling)
Dein Hurra gegen das Versinken (Your hooray against the sinking)
In all mein Schwarz dein fettes Grinsen (Into all my black your bold grin)
Dein Hurra gegen das Versinken (Your hooray against the sinking)

– Bosse, Dein Hurra

“I can’t believe this…” Sirius murmurs and gasps, slamming his hand against the cubicle wall to
hold himself steady.

“Me neither,” Remus replies hoarsely. “Fuck…”

Sirius shivers and hides his burning face in the crook of his arm, going a bit slack when Remus
grazes his prostate with his fingers again. “Babe… please,” he whispers. “Can we… I don’t even
care anymore. Can’t you just fuck me and be done with it? I don’t think I can–“

Remus grabs his hip and squeezes, his fingers still moving relentlessly. “It’s not easy for me
either,” he replies hotly, his voice hushed. “I mean, look at you. Do you have any idea how much
self-control I’m using up right now to not fuck you right here, right now?”

It is maybe a little bit flattering, but Sirius doesn’t even try to coerce him into giving up his crazy
fantasy anymore. He tried . Surprisingly, Remus could be very well-controlled when he wanted it.
It was more than frustrating.

They are… Sirius has to close his eyes and take a breath even thinking about it. Right, they are in a
toilet stall. In a very large grocery shop. On a Saturday afternoon. It’s packed . And Remus has
lost his fucking mind, that dirty, horny, little–

Sirius swallows a moan and clenches his jaws when Remus does it again. He’s doing it on purpose!
“Remus, I will kill you,” he hisses. “What are you preparing me for?! This is not a giant dildo, it’s
just beads, get a move on!”

He feels Remus shaking with laughter more than he hears him and has to stifle a laugh as well. The
image of Remus fucking him in a grocery shop toilet stall with some oversized black dildo is kind
of funny.

What is decidedly not funny , is the fact that Remus somehow managed to convince Sirius to go
fucking grocery shopping with motherfucking anal beads up his ass! Not that the idea of it alone
didn’t make Sirius a little bit dizzy with desire… But still! One thing was to fantasize about it,
another was to actually go through with it.

“Okay, here we go,” Remus mutters, voice thick and strained, and Sirius exhales in relief.

Too soon, he thinks, as Remus finally finishes fumbling with the packaging and lube – Sirius can’t
really see, he’s bent over, both hands flat on the cubical wall, ass exposed to where Remus is
kneeling with his back to the flimsy door – and presses the first bead against Sirius’ hole.

It’s not too bad, not at first – Sirius has had much bigger things up his ass before, after all. But it
still makes him choke a little and his eyes water from how hot his cheeks flame up. Because he’s in
a public restroom, with Remus slowly and methodically sliding a string of silicone beads inside of
him. This is probably – no, definitely – the riskiest things he’s ever done. He still can’t believe he
agreed to this.

Sirius whimpers, trying to muffle the noises that involuntarily come out of his mouth by biting his
lips, as he feels himself being filled up. Remus, breathing heavily, presses an open-mouthed kiss to
his left cheek, his fingers still methodically working on pressing the seemingly never-ending string
of beads into Sirius.

With every bead slipping inside, bumping against the others, pushing further in, Sirius thinks – this
must be it, right? This must be the last one. It can’t be any more than that. But there is. Fuck, it
didn’t seem so long when he saw the toy at home.

“Last one,” Remus announces, and Sirius breathes out in relief. Okay, done. Good. All is good.

Remus pats his lower back as he lifts from his crouch and Sirius wants to snap at him. Why, he
does not know. He’s embarrassed, mortified, ashamed and incredibly turned on. His cock is so hard
that Sirius’ hands almost physically itch to touch himself.

All is not good, Sirius realizes as he tries to straighten up and feels the beads shift inside of him. He
staggers and almost trips over his own pulled-down trousers. Remus holds him steady and
chuckles. “Alright?”

Sirius glares at him over the shoulder. “No,” he whispers. “Yes… I guess. Why did I agree to this
again?”

Remus grins at him brightly, his eyes dark and glittering in the neon lights of the restroom.
“Because this is making me really happy.” Sirius huffs. “And because you want it just as much.”

There is no doubt that Remus is enjoying this judging by the very obvious bulge in his jeans. He
adjusts his t-shirt so that it isn’t as visible and helps Sirius to put his trousers back on because
Sirius is definitely not bending down again unless it’s for Remus to take this goddamned toy out
and fuck him senseless.

“God, you’re so hot,” Remus murmurs, pulling Sirius closer and crushing his mouth in a feverish
kiss.

Sirius moans against his lips, quiet and desperate because he’s so hard it’s almost painful, all his
senses seemed to have gained an edge they didn’t have before, and he can feel every fucking bead
inside of him. The feeling of fullness is not new to Sirius, but it is very weird to feel while
completely dressed, in a bathroom stall, in the middle of a fucking grocery shop of all places.

Remus, being an absolute brat and owning it, cups his ass and squeezes, pulling Sirius even closer,
almost lifting him over his thigh. Sirius gasps and breaks the kiss, suddenly in urgent need of more
oxygen.
“Let’s get this over with,” Sirius says with a sigh. “You go first, I’ll be out in a bit.”

Because the last thing Sirius needs, apart from having a string of anal beads up his ass in public, is
for everyone to know about it. Remus gives him another cheeky grin and slides out of the stall.
Sirius closes the door behind him again and leans his burning forehead against it, repressing the
urge to bang it on the flat surface a couple of times.

Fuck, if he didn’t love this man so much…

After some minutes during which Sirius strongly considers pulling the toy out himself and
abandoning that reckless idea, he gathers himself up and walks out trying to school his face into
something that doesn’t scream, ‘I am a dirty whore, come look at me’.

As he does the first careful steps, Sirius understands that he has been very wrong when he thought
that getting the beads inside was the hard part. Oh, no, no, no, how naïve he’s been.

It’s as if they are alive, moving, shifting, bumping against each other and Sirius with every step,
every rotation of his hips. He clenches up, almost instinctively, because it feels like the toy is
wandering further inside, despite the safety string, or is dangerously close to slipping out on its
own. And, fuck, that’s even worse.

Or better. It feels good. It feels wrong too. It feels forbidden .

Sirius regards himself in the dusty mirror above the sinks as he washes his hands for the alibi, and
shakes his head at himself. Sirius Black, you dirty, dirty dog. What has gotten into you?

Remus fucking Lupin, of course.

He doesn’t actually look very compromising. Yes, his cheeks are a bit flushed, but not too much –
someone who doesn’t know how pale Sirius usually is would just think this is how he normally
looks. Sure, his eyes are a bit wider and more glazed than any other time. But other than that, he
looks normal. At least that’s something.

Sirius spots Remus in the vegetable and fruit area, leaning against a shopping trolley he got while
Sirius was contemplating life. The distance he has to walk to him seems impossible and Sirius
clenches his jaw, hoping that no one would notice how awkwardly he moves. But of course, Remus
sees it, and the way he looks at him makes Sirius want to run away and fling himself onto him
simultaneously. Fucking hell…

“This is a bad idea,” Sirius murmurs when he finishes his walk of shame and lets himself be pulled
close to Remus by the waist. “Remus, this is a very bad idea. I can’t do it.”

Remus bites his lower lip and draws a shaky breath, and at least that’s a small consolation – he is
not unbothered by this little adventure either. “You can,” he says, voice low, and leans into Sirius’
ear. As if Sirius needed more stimulation right now. “Get through and I promise, I will make it
worth it to you.” Completely disregarding the very public place they are at right now, he grabs
Sirius’ ass, making him groan through clenched teeth. “I will do whatever you want. I will fuck
you until you scream.”

And, wow, Sirius deserves a fucking medal for not coming right then and there, untouched, just
from the way the beads shift from Remus’ grasp and the words coming out of his dirty mouth.

“Okay.” Sirius closes his eyes briefly, trying to pull himself together, and exhales. “Okay.”

Remus lets him go and flashes a mischievous grin. “Good. So, Schatz, what do we want to cook,
hm?”

Sirius gives him a deathly glare. “ We ?” he asks threateningly. “You mean you . You cook today.
And tomorrow. And for the rest of fucking eternity, Remus, I swear to fucking God–“

“I was thinking curry,” Remus says cheerfully. “You get the veggies, I get the coconut milk,
yeah?”

But of course, he wouldn’t let Sirius just suffer in peace, standing somewhere inconspicuously. He
really wants him to walk around that fucking store, with anal beads up his ass. Sirius will kill him.
“Fine,” he bites out because, apparently, he’s a spineless, lovesick fool and can’t ever say no to
Remus fucking Lupin when he looks at him like that – all shiny eyes, and symmetrical dimples,
and flushed cheeks.

That shopping trip… is something else. Sirius is breaking out in cold sweat and scorching blushes
repeatedly, he has to stop in his tracks multiple times to catch his breath, he forgets what he’s about
to get, too distracted by the way the toy presses and bumps against all the sensitive spots inside of
him. He lets things fall out of his hands, almost drawing blood with how hard he bites his lip when
someone accidentally bumps into him, and, well, these things are gone now, he is not bending
down right now, apologies to the employees here.

Remus isn’t making things easier for him either. Sirius can feel his eyes on him the whole time,
burning holes into his back. He makes sure to press against Sirius every now and then as if
casually grabbing something from the same shelf. He touches Sirius’ hands, his neck, his burning
cheeks fleetingly as if unable to keep away. He even slides his fingers in Sirius’ trouser pockets
inconspicuously, rubbing his hipbone suggestively through the thin material. It’s maddening.

By the time they get to the check-out, Sirius is truly done with this whole thing. He feels
exhausted, his underwear is slick and damp with his own pre-come, now leaking almost
continuously. He thought that after a while he would get used to the sensation of the beads, be able
to blend it out, but the opposite happened – it got worse and worse with every minute, and now
he’s so sensitive and on edge that when it’s their turn to pay, he almost blurts out to the girl at the
till, ‘Hello, I’m wearing as sex toy right now, please save me from this hell”.

“Hallo,” he says instead. “Mit Karte, bitte.”

Good, he thinks to himself, almost done. Almost done–

Then he remembers that they have to get home somehow before this is truly over.

“Remus–“ he begins when they move away from the till after paying.

But Remus is already typing something in his phone, face concentrated and hard. “I’m calling a
taxi,” he announces. “I don’t fucking care anymore… Fuck, Sirius, do you have any idea how hot
you are?”

Sirius feels anything but right now. He feels sweaty and aching and incredibly overstimulated. He
doesn’t even think being able to orgasm would end his suffering at this point, Remus might have
done irreversible damage to him. He will be forever damned to get a boner whenever he walks into
a grocery store from now on, just from the memory of this.

Getting a cab in Berlin is an unnecessarily expensive affair, but Sirius doesn’t care anymore either.
He wants to go home now and remind Remus of his promise. The ride is pretty short, but Remus’
fingers are on Sirius’ knee the whole time – stroking, rubbing, sneaking a little up his inner thigh.
The air is so thick with lust and tension, Sirius thinks the driver must feel it as well. If he was in a
normal state, he’d be embarrassed, but right now he probably wouldn’t even stop Remus if he
decided to fuck him right here on this back seat with the driver watching.

The stairs are the worst and Sirius thinks he might just die on the spot even before they get into his
flat. And his tombstone will say: ‘Sirius Black. He died from a raging boner’. And then he will
come back as a ghost and haunt Remus until the end of time by whispering dirty things into his ear.
Yeah, that’s what he will do.

The sound of the lock being opened is like music to Sirius’ ears, but he doesn’t have any time to
relax because Remus drops the bags uncaringly and almost slams him against the wall in the
hallway, kicking the door shut behind them with a foot. He kisses him so hard that Sirius has to
hold himself steady on his shoulders.

“Remus– Please…” Sirius whines, feeling dizzy and shaky. “Do something…”

There is no reason to ask twice because Remus is already sinking down to his knees, right in the
hallway, the grocery bags strewn around them on the floor, the ice cream he insisted on buying
probably melting in the early summer heat. He unbuckles Sirius’ belt and pulls down his trousers
together with the underwear, and Sirius shivers at the way the air feels so unnaturally cold against
his hard and slick cock.

“Fuck, you’re so–“ Remus doesn’t finish his sentence and covers the head of Sirius’ cock with his
lips, sucking lightly.

Sirius arches his back automatically and cries out at the sensation of the beads shifting inside of
him, bumping deliciously against his prostate while his cock slides further into Remus’ ready
mouth. Remus moans around him and drags his fingers behind Sirius’ tight balls to find the string.

By now, Sirius has completely and irrevocably lost the plot because Remus pulls on it, making the
first bead slide out of Sirius while bobbing his head. Sirius whimpers, distantly aware of how
pitiful he sounds, and grabs Remus by the hair, probably a bit too harsh to be comfortable. But
Remus is not complaining, he tugs on the string again and sucks harder.

Sirius’ legs shake from the tension, and he feels like he’s mere seconds away from coming, after
all this time of being on edge. He’s been hard and wanting for hours, even before they got to the
shop, turned on by the idea alone of what they were about to do. He registers that Remus has
opened his own jeans with his other hand and is stroking himself as well in time with the glide of
his mouth over Sirius’ cock – probably too impatient to wait anymore.

The room spins in front of Sirius’ eyes and his hand tightens further in Remus’ hair as he continues
working Sirius with his lips and tongue whilst pulling out the beads at a maddeningly slow pace.
Sirius can’t even distinguish the different sensations anymore, they are all coiling and tangling
together – the hot, tight suction of Remus’ mouth around him, the slow circling of his tongue over
the tip of Sirius’ cock, the shifting and sliding of the beads inside of him, every single one pulled
out like an electrical shock to his nervous system.

“Remus, I’m–“ Sirius moans, long and low, and tries to swallow. “Fuck, babe, I’m coming…”

He was already over the edge, already starting to come, when Remus pulls out the last bead with a
wet, filthy sound, and swallows Sirius deeper in his throat. And that is so intense that Sirius throws
his head back, banging it unconsciously against the hard wall, shuddering and trembling through
his orgasm that seems to go on forever.
Remus pulls off, a bit too quickly and uncarefully, making Sirius wince at the sensation on his
overstimulated cock, and gasps for air. He presses his damp forehead against Sirius’ hipbone and
shudders as well with a helpless groan, a bit of Sirius’ come dribbling down from the corner of his
open mouth as he rides his own high.

“Oh my God,” Sirius pants and blinks a couple of times, very grateful for the steady wall behind
him. He eases his instinctual grip on Remus’ hair and rubs his fingers soothingly over his
undoubtedly irritated scalp.

“Fuck…” Remus curses, just as breathless and overwhelmed as Sirius. “I love you so fucking
much…”

He gets up from his kneel, not without effort, pulling himself up a bit on Sirius’ hip, and wipes his
hand on his own shirt uncaringly before pulling it over his head completely. Sirius watches him,
the movement of the muscles under his skin, the faint shine of sweat on his chest, and wonders,
through the fog in his brain, how he managed to end up with someone like Remus.

“Come here,” Sirius murmurs and pulls Remus closer by the waist. He presses against him readily
and Sirius wipes the thin trail on his chin with a thumb before putting it in his mouth.

Remus watches him with eyes that get progressively darker. “Bed,” he orders firmly. “I am not
done with you yet.”

Sirius smiles and lets himself be kissed. He hopes he never will be.

***

“Let’s listen to the prophecy one more time,” Remus suggests.

Sirius sighs and rubs his forehead. He’s completely lost now, this is so very confusing that he fears
he might get a migraine. From a board game no less.

It’s early evening, Sirius has gotten off work earlier today and the sun is still shining strongly
through Remus’ windows. It filters beautifully through all the greenery in his room, reflecting off
shiny leaves and throwing curious shades on the walls and floor.

The floor where they are currently sitting – Sirius cross-legged, Remus actually laying on his
stomach, legs bent and bare feet dangling in the air happily. It’s only June, but Berlin feels like an
oven already, even though objectively it’s not that hot yet. Regardless, the heat seems to get
trapped in the stone jungle, reflect endlessly between dark windows, gather in the underground
stations and force everyone to hide out in the shade until it gets bearable during the evenings and
nights.

That’s why Remus has bought one of those criminal case games – with a fake case file containing
dozens of papers, reports, maps and photographs of a fictional murder they were meant to solve
like modern-day Sherlock Holmes and his loyal sidekick Watson.

Sirius pulls out his phone again and plays the recording on the dedicated website. The game is
actually really fun and well-made, but by God, it’s confusing. If it was about some normal murder
mystery, Sirius would be fine, but this is some otherworldly shit. Something about wizards, and
werewolves, and Dark Lords, and people that can turn into animals.
Remus listens to the recording, head tilted in concentration, but Sirius can’t really focus on it
anymore. Because Remus’ hair is still a bit damp from the shower, the curls falling heavily over
his forehead, and he’s not wearing a shirt, showing off his beautiful tattoos that Sirius still hasn’t
gotten used to, and his lips are all wet and red from the watermelon he’s been snacking on.

Fuck, Sirius loves him.

“Okay,” Remus concludes when the recording ends. “So, the one to defeat the Dark Lord is
someone born as the seventh month dies.” He rolls his eyes at the dramatic wording. “And I get
that this is just a game, and we have a limited number of characters, but this could literally be
anyone! Anyone!”

Sirius chuckles a bit at the way he gets worked up about this. “But their parents must have defied
the Dark Lord trice,” he remarks. “So, not anyone. See… from what I gathered, it’s either this boy
or this boy.”

Remus hums and picks up some papers, looking through the evidence one more time. Their main
objective is actually to find out who the traitor is that sold out one of the boys and his parents to
the Dark Lord. Apparently, the police are so understaffed in this imaginary world that they are
ready to throw a suspect (who actually does look very suspicious, he’s been caught screaming ‘It’s
my fault’ on a blown-up street, so…) into their little magical prison without a trial.

“Unbelievable!” Remus exclaimed in honest outrage when he first read the task. “I bet you he’s
innocent!”

“What if the Dark Lord was wrong?” Remus asks, suspicious. “For some reason, he settled on that
Harry baby, but what if it’s… Whatshisname…” He picks up another paper. “Neville. What if it’s
him and this is all just a giant misunderstanding?”

Sirius rubs his temples and sighs. “Does it matter? Either way, Harry’s parents are dead, Harry is
alive, the Dark Lord is gone, and now we need to find out who sold them out. Who are our
suspects, can we narrow the circle?”

Remus puts his chin on his hand and smiles up at Sirius, flashing dimples. “You’re really into this,
aren’t you? That’s super cute.”

“Shut up,” Sirius grumbles. “You’re cute.”

Remus grins brighter and reaches out both hands to pull himself closer to Sirius by grabbing his
thigh, sliding on his stomach over the rug and knocking over the piles of papers.

“Babe,” Sirius whines, “I just sorted those! Can you not mess this up?”

Remus laughs and wriggles his head into Sirius’ lap, pushing away the papers that Sirius has been
looking through with his forehead. Sirius lets out a long-suffering sigh that he doesn’t actually
mean and strokes his hand over Remus’ cheek.

“Comfortable, are you?” he asks, amused.

“Mhm,” Remus confirms contently and turns over to bury his face somewhere in Sirius’ stomach.
“I’ll just take a quick nap here. You can continue your hunt, inspector.”

“This is supposed to be a team effort,” Sirius murmurs while threading his fingers soothingly
through Remus’ damp curls.
Remus presses his face further into Sirius’ abdomen. “Read to me,” he asks, a bit muffled. “I love
how you sound when you speak. All proper British and hot.”

“Because I am British and hot,” Sirius mentions and laughs. “Okay, let’s go through the
background of the victims. We have a shit ton of school records from them and their friends.”

Remus hums and relaxes as Sirius pulls up a stack of records and starts reading. It’s a bit distracting
to have Remus laying in his lap like that – Sirius would much rather focus on the way he’s
breathing steadily, or how he’s drawing slow circles on the small of Sirius’ back with the tips of
his fingers, or how nice it feels to stroke through the shorter hair on his nape.

“Hm,” Remus says after a while. “I get strong boyfriend vibes from this werewolf guy and the
handsome-guy-with-a-dark-past.”

Sirius chuckles. “Handsome-guy-with-a-dark-past is our main suspect, don’t forget that,” he

mentions. “It just says that they were best friends.”

Remus huffs, amused. “Yep, they always are, huh? Best friends, roommates,” he muses. “Maybe it
was the werewolf guy, and our main suspect is protecting him?”

It’s a bit cute how Remus wants to spin this into some sort of background romance. Sirius smiles
down at him. He feels like all existing butterflies in the world have gathered in his stomach right
now.

“It has got to be one of the three friends,” Sirius decides. “Either it really was the main suspect, or
the werewolf or the rat-boy.”

“Rat-boy,” Remus repeats and laughs. “Who has a motive? Why would it be any of them, weren’t
they like best friends for life or something?”

Sirius shrugs – it doesn’t make much sense to him either. He feels like they are missing some
crucial information.

“Handsome-guy-with-a-dark-past has, surprise-surprise, a dark past,” Sirius says pensively. “The

werewolf guy is, again, a werewolf and apparently that’s pretty suspicious because werewolves are
dark creatures. And rat-boy… I don’t know? Rats are shifty? He just seems to be a boring sidekick
character. Like, his only personality trait is that he’s a bit of a push-over.”

Remus sighs and shifts to get up from Sirius’ lap. “These are not really motives, just prejudices,”
he murmurs. “Let’s look through the reports again? I don’t get how only a finger can be left from
the rat-boy. Wouldn’t there be more of the body? Like, sure, an explosion. Sure, a magical one. But
come on? This is weird.”

“You’re on a hot trail here, inspector,” Sirius jokes and laughs at the way Remus exaggeratedly
rightens his glasses. “Shall I get us some shitty cafeteria coffee? Maybe some Chinese take-out in
those white little boxes?”

Remus grins and then grimaces. “I ate my weight in watermelon,” he says. “Don’t speak about
food ever again. I will be sick.”

“Because you have no impulse control,” Sirius supplies and dodges the heavy file Remus tries to
swat him over the head with. “It wasn’t even that good. I told you it’s too early for watermelon.”

Remus is about to argue with him when Sirius’ phone buzzes with an incoming call.
“Hello?” Sirius answers, half-laughing at the way Remus is trying to yank some papers from under
his legs.

“Good. You’re alive,” a sarcastic voice sounds from the speaker and Sirius has to lift the phone
from his ear to look at the screen and confirm that he wasn’t imagining it.

“Reg?” he asks, surprised.

“Yes,” Regulus replies flatly. “Remember? Your brother.”

“Of course, I remember.” Sirius laughs a little and rolls his eyes at Remus’ questioning look.

“Didn’t seem like it when you fucked off to Germany almost six months ago and didn’t call once,”
Regulus says acerbically. “It’s like you fell off the face of the earth.”

Sirius winces a little and sighs. God, Regulus is right, he completely forgot to uphold any kind of
contact with him since he moved. Or with anyone from his old life, to be fair. But Regulus was
probably the only one he really should have kept in touch with.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says sincerely. “Life’s been hectic here. I’m good though, Berlin is great.” He
smiles at the way Remus gives him two thumbs-up and an approving nod. “How are you?”

Regulus huffs. “I’m fine. Like always,” he says. “Work has been going well lately, I got offered a
promotion.”

“Good for you,” Sirius says pleasantly. He doesn’t really know what exactly Regulus is doing at
his job. He did finish law school, but Sirius isn’t sure he’s actually working as a lawyer at that
engineering company. Maybe with lawyers? Surely Regulus told him at some point and Sirius
forgot, and then it was too weird to ask since he was supposed to know already. “Anything else
new?”

There is a long pause on the other end of the line and Sirius shifts the phone to the other ear.
“Reg?”

“Mother is dead.”

Sirius frowns a little and blinks a couple of times. “Oh.” He swallows. “Okay.” He cocks his head
in confusion. “When?”

“Three days ago,” Regulus replies, his voice just as even and unemotional as if he’s talking about
the weather. “I found out yesterday. I was away on a business trip.”

“How?” Sirius asks. Then questions whether he actually cares to find out.

“Breast cancer,” Regulus says flatly.

Sirius exhales through his nose. “Did you know?”

“No,” Regulus says. “You?”

“No.”

“Typical,” he remarks.

“Yeah…” Sirius chews on his lip for a moment. “Do you need me to come back? Help with…
everything?”
“No,” Regulus says instantly. “The funeral home is dealing with it. The lawyers got the rest. I
won’t be organising a funeral, just a simple burial. Unless you want…”

“No,” Sirius says just as quickly. “No, not because of me. Unless you want…”

Regulus huffs humourlessly. “No. I’m glad we agree on this.”

There is an awkward pause in which Sirius stares unseeingly at the intricate patterns on the rug in
front of him.

“Reg, I’m–“

“Yeah, I know,” he says.

“If you–“

“Mhm,” he agrees.

“Is there–“

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ exaggeratedly.

Sirius sighs. Regulus sighs.

“Sirius–“

“Yeah,” Sirius says and his eyebrows twitch. “Right.”

“I know that–“

“Uh-huh,” Sirius confirms.

“I just–“

“No worries,” Sirius says quickly.

Regulus sighs. Sirius sighs.

“I have to be in Berlin on Monday,” he informs Sirius. “On business matters. I was thinking about
staying over the weekend.”

Sirius’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Sure, I’d love that. Do you want to–“

“If it’s not–“

“Yeah, no, definitely,” Sirius says and clears his throat. “I mean, if you want–“

“Sounds good,” Regulus says.

“Good.” Sirius shakes himself out of his trance. “Send me your flight information? I’ll pick you
up.”

“Okay,” he agrees easily. “See you on Saturday.”

“See you,” Sirius says and remains on the line until, after a long silent pause, the call ends.

Well, that was… Sirius slowly sets down his phone. Something.
“What the fuck was that?” Remus asks in bewilderment. “This is probably the weirdest
conversation I ever heard. Was that your brother?”

Sirius looks up at him and is not sure what his face is doing. He feels frozen like someone injected
Botox into every muscle. Remus looks at him, eyebrows raised, still holding some papers from that
game they were playing in his hands.

Yeah, from the outside that conversation probably did sound incredibly weird, especially if you
could only hear what Sirius was saying. But how could Sirius explain the ins and outs of the kind
of relationship he has with his brother in one sentence? He doesn’t think he could even if he had to
write an essay about it.

“My mother died,” is what Sirius says instead, and his voice sounds just as light and unbothered as
Regulus’ earlier.

Remus gapes at him, shocked, and the papers fall out of his hands with a whoosh, flying
everywhere. “Oh my God,” he breathes. “Sirius… I am so sorry.”

He crawls over and places a soothing hand on Sirius’ shoulder, his worried eyes fleeting between
Sirius’ rapidly. “Fuck, this is terrible. What happened?”

Sirius sighs and shakes his head. “Cancer, apparently. She didn’t tell anyone.”

“Fuck,” Remus repeats empathetically. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Sirius shrugs. “No, everything is already being dealt with. Regulus has it covered.”

Remus frowns. “No, Schatz, I mean, how can I help you ?”

“Me?” Sirius smiles a little. “Oh, no, I’m fine.”

Unsurprisingly, Remus doesn’t seem very convinced. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Sirius says. “Not much to say.”

Remus rubs his shoulder encouragingly. “Okay,” he says softly. “I understand. How is Regulus
dealing with it? What about your father?”

Sirius frowns, a little surprised. “My father?” Then he remembers that he never actually talked
about this. “Oh, my father has died a while ago. About ten years? Just as I started uni.”

The bewildered look on Remus’ face tells him that this is not a piece of information he would have
deemed unnecessary to disclose. Sirius feels a little misplaced somehow. Theoretically, Remus
should be the person who would understand him best, but, at the same time, the circumstances of
their whole familial situation couldn’t be more different. Maybe Remus is actually the last person
to understand him right now. Sirius feels incredibly grateful that Regulus will be coming in just a
couple of days. He understands. God, he understands it more than anyone could.

“O… kay,” Remus says slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that… How’s Regulus?”

Sirius shrugs. “Reg is fine,” he says. “He’ll be coming to Berlin on Saturday over the weekend.”

Remus nods and smiles a little. “That’s good! I think this is good that he wants to see you.”

“He has a business thing on Monday.”

 Remus loses some of his hard-won enthusiasm. “Okay… Well, still, you’ll have some time to
talk.”

Sirius nods. “Yeah. He got a promotion, I’m sure he’ll tell me all about it.”

Remus’ expression clearly says that this is decidedly not what he meant, but he lets it slide.
“Okay. Do you need anything?” He brushes some hair away from Sirius’ forehead. “Are you
hungry? Do you want to go out? Get drunk? We can go up on a roof and scream if you want.”

Sirius can’t suppress a laugh and shakes his head. “No, really, babe, I’m fine,” he assures him.
“Can you pass me that map there? I think there must be a clue in there on what happened on the
murder night.”

Remus frowns at him, eyes searching and, apparently, failing to find anything on Sirius’ face.
Reluctantly, he lets Sirius go and reaches over the papers on the floor to fish out the map. When he
hands it to Sirius, he sighs. “We don’t have to play this, you know? We can do something else if
you want.”

Sirius takes in his worried expression and rolls his eyes with a smile. “I’m fine,” he urges.

The thing is, Sirius was not fine.

Chapter End Notes

Hallo. Mit Karte, bitte - Hello. I'll pay with card, please

Yay! Reggie is here! Also, poor Sirius...

Again, will I ever stop alluding to canon in my Muggle AUs? Nah :D
Let me know what you think! :)
 Regulus Black, the social chameleon
Chapter Notes

To celebrate Regulus' first appearance, I want to show you another fanart I did! This
time it's our boy Reggie:)
Enjoy!

TW: brief mentions of an eating disorder (no details!)

Nach roten Lippen, nach großen Klippen (Of red lips, of big cliffs)

Nach Gauloises Kippen schmeckt der Kuss der Freiheit (Of Gauloises cigarettes tastes the kiss of
freedom)

Nach Kiffen schmeckt der Kuss der Freiheit (The kiss of freedom tastes of weed)

Mama, ich muss los, muss dabei sein (Mama, I gotta go, gotta be there)

– Prinz Pi, Fähnchen im Wind

The relationship Sirius had with his mother since he graduated from Oxford could only be
described as ‘non-existent’.

His whole life, Sirius felt trapped – by the expectations his parents had of him, by the rules they’ve
set, by the money they didn’t hesitate to hold over his head. Maybe if his life went a little
differently, if he had any other parental figures in his proximity, he would’ve had the balls to cut
them off way earlier, maybe even before he finished school. But, as it happened, he didn’t. All he
had was Regulus, who was firmly in the mindset of ‘close your eyes and think of England’ when it
came to their parents.

It wasn’t like they asked impossible things of him. Finish school, get a decent degree, be a
respectable adult. And Sirius stomped down all his little dreams, and wishes, and desires. He
finished school with the best grades, he got into Oxford all on his own, he got that decent degree,
he became the respectable son his mother wished for.

The day Sirius got handed his diploma, he stood in the neat row of his former classmates and now
future colleagues, and smiled at the cameras going off. The whole day was a complete mess –
everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong – and he had no time to meet his family
before the ceremony. During the whole thing, he sat in the front row, amongst his peers, and it was
too crowded to see where they sat.

And then the ceremony ended, the speeches were held, the diplomas were handed out, the pictures
were taken. And the only one who came over to him was Regulus. Alone.

“Congratulations,” he said and smiled a little. “Now you are free.”

Others might have thought he meant the university or education in general. But Sirius knew what
he actually meant. And then he realized that all these boundaries he had to navigate, all the walls
he ran into before, were of his own doing. It was him, not his mother, who created this trap for
himself.

Because until that moment when it became clear that no one was coming, that his mother never
intended to be there for his graduation, he still believed that if he did what she wanted of him, he
could somehow earn the love he desperately craved.

And it’s as if with Regulus’ words, the handcuffs fell off. He was free. Not only of the
expectations and the financial dependency but of his own misguided hopes.

Sirius still spoke to her, of course. On birthdays and Christmases – just short, polite phone calls –
and sometimes when the family businesses required his involvement. But other than that, there was
nothing.

When Regulus’ graduation from Cambridge rolled around, it felt like a reverse déjà vu. And when
he came over to his little brother, he smiled at him and repeated his words. “Congratulations. Now
you are free.”

Now, years later, it’s difficult for Sirius to get into his previous mindset. He remembers the thought
processes he had back then, the repressed feelings he carried around all throughout school and uni,
the fears he cultivated inside. But he can’t relate to himself anymore.

From his adult perspective, it seems silly. Why was he so afraid to do his own thing? Why did he
let his parents decide for him? Why was he so delusional to believe that anything he did could’ve
changed the relationship he had with them?

It is too late to mourn it now, of course. He had his chance to blow them off after school and he
didn’t. He had the chance to do something else after graduation and he didn’t. He had the chance to
tell his mother everything he thought about her, about his father, about the emotional abuse they
suffered as children, about her fucked-up ways of thinking, and he didn’t. He smiled politely, he
called two times a year and then pretended nothing of those things happened in the meantime.

Sirius honestly doesn’t feel much at all when thinking about his mother dying. She was a horrible
person. She did and said a lot of questionable things. She didn’t add anything of value to his or
Regulus’ life since they were very little. And maybe if Sirius was eighteen and not twenty-eight, he
would have felt grief for her. After all, she was his mother.

But he’s not eighteen anymore. Sirius has a life of his own now, one that she never cared to be a
part of, despite the fact that Sirius wouldn’t have let her anyway. He is financially stable, he has
friends, he still has Regulus. She lived a long life full of fortune she didn’t deserve. Everyone dies
at some point, and this was the point for her. That’s how the universe works.

Sirius feels grief for himself and is ashamed to admit it.

For all the things he didn’t manage to do, for all the things he didn’t say to her, for all the lies he
told himself before.

Sirius feels relief and is ashamed to admit it.

Because, sure, he’s freed himself of her influence long ago. But some part of him, one that he hides
in a very dark, dusty corner of his mind, still craved that validation from her. And now that part is
aching, crying, weeping. But it feels good . It feels like the last boundary in his mind has finally
dissolved.
He’s twenty-eight, and still, every time he thinks about her, he feels slightly nauseous, and his
mood drops a couple of notches. Every time he heard her voice, he felt small and powerless again.
The couple of times he saw her after leaving uni, he wanted to run away. Sirius was still afraid of
her. And now he needn’t be.

Sirius feels satisfaction and is ashamed to admit it.

Because Walburga Black was a horrible, vile person. She was racist, she was elitist, she was a
narcissist and she valued nothing but control, fear and her image. The world has become a slightly
better place with her gone.

It’s almost forbidden to even think this way. Because Sirius knows that his mother is not some
ultimate villain – surely some people would say that she was a great person, that she had a lot of
value, that she had her good sides – but she is the villain of his story. And she is his mother .
How do you reconcile that?

The day Sirius receives the news, he doesn’t stay over at Remus’ place. He doesn’t feel like he can
handle it.

Because Remus obviously wants him to talk about it, is worried about his non-reaction. Sirius feels
his looks whenever he thinks Sirius is not paying attention. But Sirius just can’t.

There is just no way he can honestly talk about his feelings on that matter with Remus. Remus,
who’s still so obviously not over his own parents’ death. He just wouldn’t understand how Sirius
can think the way he does. Remus, who is so pure and kind. How can Sirius look him in the eyes
and tell him that he isn’t sad about his mother dying? What would he think of him then?

Because Sirius doesn’t feel bad. He feels good . And he feels bad for it .

That night, Sirius fights the urge to get drunk, fights the urge to smoke again, fights the urge to do
something reckless and stupid. He goes home, he showers, he lays down in his bed. He laughs a
little, and cries a little, and can’t wait for Regulus to come.

***

Sirius spots Regulus even before he gets through the sliding doors of the arrival area because he’s
quite tall and has this air of ‘don’t talk to me, I’m the hottest thing here’ that ensures an almost
physical barrier that orbits him – other people seem to avoid coming too close.

He does look a bit intimidating if you’re not used to it. All sharp lines (eyebrows, jaw, nose, laser-
eyes) and fluid motions (very carefully cultivated, of course). Sirius smiles as Regulus comes close
enough to make out that his eyes have also already found Sirius. He gives Sirius an annoyed
eyebrow twitch and then death-glares at a woman with three bags that almost ran him over.

“That’s him, right?” Remus asks next to Sirius. “The guy in the white shirt?”

It’s not actually white and more of a light cream, relaxed cut, first two buttons opened – Regulus is
casual today. Sirius refrains from correcting him because then Remus would just make fun of him
for his affinity for business attire. And then Sirius would make fun of him for being able to
differentiate shades of colour on furniture but not on clothes. And that would just be rude, as
Remus has so graciously offered to come with Sirius to the airport and take him and Regulus out
for dinner after.

“Hey!” Sirius exclaims as Regulus comes up to them, just a small carry-on with him for the short
trip. “How was the flight?”

“Hello,” Regulus says, way calmer than Sirius. “The usual.”

Then his eyes land on Remus.

“Oh, right, Regulus, this is Remus. My boyfriend. Remus, this is my brother Regulus,” Sirius says
and watches Regulus very closely.

Regulus doesn’t even blink. He smiles politely and stretches out his hand for Remus to shake.
“Pleasure to meet you, Remus.”

Remus grins back, his curls flashing golden in the light filtering in from the high windows in the
arrival area, and shakes his hand enthusiastically. “Nice to meet you too! Welcome to Berlin!”

Sirius releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Okay, good. A bit surprising, but good. He
expected Regulus to say something about it but maybe he just doesn’t care. That’s totally fine in
Sirius’ opinion.

“Thank you,” Regulus says pleasantly with a head tilt. “Shall we call a cab?”

“Oh, no, I’ve got a car outside,” Remus tells him. “I would drive by Sirius’ place so you can drop
off your bag. And then, if you like, we can go get dinner? I know a really good Vietnamese place.”

“I’ve got a hotel room,” Regulus corrects him. “But this sounds good.”

Remus nods happily and leads them out of the airport building. As soon as he has turned his back
to them, Regulus’ expression of polite indifference melts off and he whips his head around to glare
at Sirius. Sirius swallows down a laugh and shrugs. Regulus, still glaring, tilts his chin in a way
that says, ‘You will pay for this later’. Sirius raises his eyebrows, saying, ‘You can fuck right off’.
Regulus curls his lips, making known that he couldn’t care less.

“Everything alright?”

Sirius and Regulus both look at Remus who broke off their silent conversation and smile together.

“Sure,” Sirius says.

“Great,” Regulus assures him.

“Okay,” Remus says, unconvinced, and unlocks the car.

Sirius is about to graciously offer Regulus the passenger seat in the front, but he just gives Sirius a
wide-eyed look that says, ‘Don’t even think about this’, and resolutely gets into the backseat. Sirius
and Remus look at each other over the roof of the car and Sirius rolls his eyes. Remus smiles softly.

Regulus gives Remus the name of his hotel and by the time Remus starts the engine and reverses
out of the parking spot, he is already in the middle of a Very Important phone call. Sirius is pretty
sure that he’s doing it on purpose, probably tormenting some poor intern with work-related calls on
a weekend just to escape any possible small talk conversation that might ensue.

“He is very busy,” Sirius explains quietly when Remus looks over at him with an amused
expression.
Remus grins, unbothered, and places a reassuring hand on Sirius’ thigh for the rest of the ride. He’s
been especially forthcoming over the last days since he heard the news that Sirius’ mother passed
away, which was sweet but completely unnecessary. Sirius even feels a bit guilty for making him
worry so much – there is really nothing he can do, and Sirius would have preferred if they just
pretended everything was normal. And even though Remus didn’t try to get him to talk anymore,
probably deciding to give him some space, Sirius still felt an unspoken pressure to react in some
way that wouldn’t make Remus think that he was a stone-cold bitch.

“Is it really okay that I’m coming with you?” Remus asks carefully when they wait in the car for
Regulus to check in at his hotel.

“Sure, why not?” Sirius says and smiles at him.

“I don’t want to…” He makes a vague motion with his hand. “Get in between you both. You
probably have lots to discuss.”

Sirius sighs. “I’m pretty sure we’ll get embarrassingly drunk after this dinner at my place,” he says.
“So, we’ll have plenty of time to talk amongst ourselves. Besides, isn’t this what you’re supposed
to do? Show off your partner to your family?”

Remus smiles slowly and his eyes go impossibly soft. He rubs Sirius’ thigh a little. “Yeah… I
think it is,” he says. “He is nice. I thought he’d be more… Confused?”

Sirius suppresses an amused laugh. Nice . Regulus has developed ‘fake politeness’ into an art form
by now, so Sirius is not surprised that he’s fooled Remus with his act. If Regulus was sixteen right
now, he’d have made a giant scene. Because, well, Sirius didn’t exactly tell him that he was now in
a new relationship. With a man. And that this man would come along. Sirius and Regulus were
never much about talking things through.

“No, don’t worry, he’s very accepting,” Sirius assures him. Remus doesn’t have to know that Sirius
will never get to hear the end of it as soon as they are alone.

“Thank you for waiting,” Regulus says, getting back into the car, now without his luggage.

“You’re welcome,” Remus replies joyfully. “Alright, who’s hungry?”

“Me,” Sirius chimes in to humour Remus. Regulus just smiles politely and only Sirius can see how
his cheek twitches.

“Let’s go then!” Remus decides and starts the car again.

They do go to that Vietnamese restaurant Remus mentioned earlier, and Sirius watches the
conversation happening between Remus and Regulus from the sidelines like it’s a theatre play.
Because Remus is his usual cheerful, joyous self. And Regulus shows once again that he is the best
actor that has walked this Earth because he effortlessly slips into his mirroring trick.

They did that a lot as children, forced to attend countless dinner parties and social events with their
parents. It was incredibly dull and boring, and they entertained themselves by playing these
pretend games where they would chat up random adults and act like they were someone else –
someone who would actually fit into that crowd, pretending to take incredible interest in whatever
the people were saying. Only when Sirius grew up himself, he realized that this was what everyone
was probably doing at these events, even the adults. Especially the adults.

And while Sirius at some point refused to alter his personality to fit in, Regulus cultivated that skill
religiously. By now he was able to hold a conversation with anyone about anything at any time,
catching the personality of the person he was talking to and adapting to it like some form of a
social chameleon. This was probably the reason he came to be so successful in his job while having
a very small number of real friendships – who wants to be friends with someone who is a
completely different person depending on who is present at the time? Sirius doubts that Regulus
can even be authentic with strangers now. Does anyone really know him, who he really is, the
way Sirius does?

“It was so nice to get to know you!” Remus announces sincerely. “I am so sad that I have to go to
work now.”

“Me too!” Regulus says and smiles brightly. “Thank you so much again for picking me up. And I
loved the food, it was amazing. You’re the best local guide!”

Remus flushes adorably at the praise and Sirius is a bit miffed at the way Regulus plays him like a
fiddle. But, oh well, at least Remus will have nice memories of tonight and believe that he’s got a
new best friend or something. As long as it makes him happy.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Remus waves him off. “I hope you have a nice stay in Berlin. Maybe we’ll see
each other tomorrow if you like.”

“I’d love to,” Regulus assures him. “Sirius and I will think about what we will do, and you’ll be
the first to know.”

Remus grins brightly. “Amazing!” He waves the waiter over to pay.

“Oh, no, Remus, I got you,” Regulus says, pulling out his wallet. “As a thank you for helping me
out today!”

Remus tries to argue but Regulus firmly waves him off. Sirius just smirks at Regulus, making
known that there will be no attempts from him to get the bill. That little menace can shell out after
his little performance.

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” Remus says with a genuine smile. Then he squeezes Sirius’ knee
where he’s been keeping his hand for most of the meal and leans over to give him a quick kiss.
“Okay, I’m off to work now. Have fun, you two!”

Sirius smiles at him. “Have a good night!”

Regulus and Sirius watch Remus step out of the restaurant and give them a last wave through the
large window before walking off in the direction of the next underground station. Then Regulus
turns to Sirius, and judging by his expression, he is so very done with him.

“Really?” Regulus asks incredulously.

Sirius grins at him. “Care for a walk, little brother? My flat is not far away. And there is a good
wine store on the way.”

Regulus scoffs. “After this, I need something stronger than wine.”

“They have whisky.”

“Perfect,” he decides. “Lead the way, older brother .”

 ***

Regulus drops heavily in one of Sirius’ dining chairs and puts the bottle of whisky in the middle of
the table like a centrepiece. He got some fancy, unnecessarily expensive shit and Sirius suspects
that he can’t really differentiate between good and bad whisky but has long ago decided that money
can fill the spaces where he lacks taste.

Sirius puts two glasses on the table and sits down across from him. Regulus gives him an assessing
look from under heavy eyelids.

“So, you’re gay now?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. “When did this happen?”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t have thought you’d be so close-minded,” he says acerbically. “And
I’m not gay. I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual.”

Maybe Sirius is actually Remus-sexual. Because, goddamn, that man is something else entirely.
Sirius doesn’t believe he’d be able to have even a shadow of the feelings he gets around Remus for
anyone else, regardless of gender.

“Me? Close-minded?” Regulus laughs and pours them some whisky. “Sirius, I am very gay.”

Sirius leans forward feeling like his eyes might bulge out. “Excuse me, what ?”

Regulus gives him an exasperated look. “How did you not know? I literally brought a boyfriend to
your birthday party two years ago.”

Sirius thinks back to that day and frowns. Regulus did indeed come with another guy but nothing
about them said anything about a romantic relationship. “Mark? I thought he said you were
colleagues.”

“Yes, because you asked how we knew each other,” Regulus says and rolls his eyes, taking a sip of
his drink. “We had sex in your bathroom by the way.”

“It was you?” Sirius asks and laughs. “What the fuck? Can you not screw around in my house
please?”

“In my defence,” Regulus remarks, “it was a very boring party.” Then he shakes his head in
bewilderment. “How can you be so oblivious? I was pining for one of your classmates for years!”

Sirius raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Who?”

“Zac Heather,” Regulus says. “He went to Oxford with you, you must know him.”

It takes Sirius a moment before he realizes what Regulus just said and he has to set down his drink
to not spill it from laughing so hard. “Zac? Oh God.” He chuckles. “Sorry to break it to you, Reg,
but he sort of sucked me off in first year.”

Regulus gives him a look that clearly says, ‘And you realized you’re bi just now?’ before smirking.
“I never said I didn’t get a taste myself.”

Sirius grimaces a little. “I don’t know if that’s funny or disturbing,” he admits.

“It’s funny to me,” Regulus says smugly. “Because I was first.”

“And I was last,” Sirius mentions and raises his eyebrows. “What does that say about you?”

Regulus lets out a small huff. “You do know we look very much alike, yes? Did you listen closely,
maybe he screamed my name?”

Sirius gives him a smug smile. “I’m afraid his mouth was occupied at the time.”

“Oh, I’m sure he had plenty of space to speak to his heart’s content,” he drawls. Sirius levels him
with an unimpressed look. “Because your dick is so small,” he explains kindly.

“I got it.” Sirius huffs and shakes his head. “Explaining it doesn’t make a bad joke better.”

He raises his eyebrows as if asking why Sirius thought this was a joke.

“How is this even possible?” Sirius asks. “That we are brothers and both queer?”

Regulus shrugs. “Inbreeding?”

“Ew, let’s not go there,” Sirius says resolutely. “When did you find out?”

“That I like cock?” Regulus asks with a small smile. “I always knew. The question is – how did
you not know, Mister In The Closet? You let Zac Heather blow you and didn’t question it?”

Sirius sighs. “I don’t know? I thought this was how everyone felt.”

“That kissing boys and girls is equally nice?” Regulus asks with a grin. “Nah, Sirius, that’s
definitely not how everyone is.”

“You know what would have helped?” Sirius asks accusingly. “Talking to someone. Preferably
another queer family member, you get me?”

Regulus scrunches up his nose and takes a big gulp of whisky before topping up their glasses. “No,
we don’t do that,” he says dismissively. “In fact, this conversation never happened as soon as I step
out of that door.”

“Fine by me,” Sirius sighs. He doesn’t think he can get over the fact that Regulus had sex in his
bathroom with some random bloke. “So, we’re cool?”

“I don’t give two shits about your sexuality,” he says earnestly. “But really? Him ?”

Sirius frowns, unsure what he’s talking about. “What? Remus? What do you mean?”

Regulus looks at him like he’s a ghost. “What I mean ? He’s obnoxious.”

“Hello?” Sirius gives Regulus a bewildered look. “No, he’s not.”

“He’s like a caricature,” Regulus urges further. “How can someone be so hyper? Is he always like
this?”

Sirius laughs a little. “Yeah. He was just happy to meet you,” he explains. “Give him a break, he’s
the sweetest person ever.”

“How can someone be that happy?” Regulus asks incredulously and sips his drink. Right now, he
looks like the total opposite of Remus. “I feel the urge to take him down a couple of notches, you
know? Like, come on, how do you even handle being around him so much? I’d off myself.”
Sirius rolls his eyes at Regulus’ dramatics. They may look alike, but while Sirius was just
sometimes a bit down and glum, Regulus was like that all the time. And not because he was
particularly sad. He was just a grim porcupine deep inside.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I think it’s pretty great, actually,” Sirius says. “He’s not always so
over-the-top, he does have his insightful moments. But yeah, he’s just very energetic and positive.
And he tries to see the fun in everything. It’s like he’s a miniature sun.”

Regulus listens to his ramblings, swirling the whisky in his glass absentmindedly, and then regards
Sirius thoughtfully for a few moments. “You love him,” he states. “Of course.”

It makes Sirius stop in his tracks. Is he so obvious?

“Yes,” he admits, and, for some reason, it comes out almost naturally. “I love him.”

“Does he know?” Regulus asks, as insightful as ever.

Sirius hesitates, looking down at the table for a moment, and then slumps a little in his chair. “I– I
think so? I mean, he must know, right? Like, even you caught onto it instantly.”

“You never said it,” Regulus translates. “Why not?”

Yeah, Sirius, why the fuck not?

“I just… I–“ Sirius scoffs and l catches his leg shaking in frustration. “I don’t know, okay? I really
don’t. I just can’t do it.”

Regulus hums thoughtfully. “Say it to me,” he demands.

Sirius frowns at him, confused. “That I love him? I already did. That’s not the issue–“

“No.” He grins. “Tell me that you love me.”

Sirius freezes up for a second and lets out a nervous laugh. “Really? Are you serious?”

Regulus shrugs, still grinning. “I love you. Now say it back.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius mutters and rubs his cheek, very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“You do love me, don’t you?” Regulus asks incredulously.

“You’re my brother.”

“Yes.” He grins again. “Now say it.”

“Regulus–“

“Say it.”

“You’re unbeliev–“

“Say it!”

“Okay! Fine!” Sirius glares at him, feeling his heartbeat skyrocketing. “I love you.”

His throat chokes up and cheeks flame up as if slapped. And then… nothing happens. Regulus just
smiles, genuinely. And that’s it. Huh.
“See,” he says neutrally. “That wasn’t so bad.”

No… it wasn’t. Aside from the instinctual reaction to shake himself from the fact that Sirius
basically just exchanged I-love-you’s with Regulus. Well, yeah, he does love him, obviously. But
it’s Regulus . They don’t do this whole feelings-bullshit.

“Did you ever have trouble… You know?” Sirius asks, feeling self-conscious despite knowing that
he wouldn’t ever make fun of him for that.

Regulus nods. “Oh, yes, definitely,” he says with a loaded look. “It was a whole thing.”

“What did you do?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Therapy.”

“You went to therapy?” Sirius asks, surprised by that revelation.

Regulus stares at him wide-eyed and then sets down his glass with a loud thud, leaning forward as
if he can’t believe what Sirius just said. “Sirius, are you kidding me?” he asks. “I was in therapy
since I was fourteen.”

“What the fuck?” Sirius stares at him, just as bewildered. What is this conversation? How much
did he not know about his own brother? “What for?”

Regulus’ expression is pure disbelief. “I had an eating disorder,” he says with a ‘duh’ undertone.
“How did you not know? I was in rehab for months at one point!”

Sirius does remember that Regulus was taken out of school for a while when Sirius was graduating.
But an eating disorder?!

“Mother said you had a bad case of mono!”

“Of course,” Regulus sighs and shakes his head. “Where did you think I was going twice a week
for years?”

Sirius blinks a couple of times. “I don’t know? It’s not like I tracked your every step back in
school.” He can’t help the worried look. “Shit, Reg. Are you okay?”

He rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s under control,” he says. “I
can’t believe she said I had mono…”

They look at each other and sigh almost simultaneously. This was actually very on-brand for their
mother. God forbid someone would have found out that one of Black’s sons had mental health
issues and disordered eating. That wouldn’t look so good at the next garden party, would it?

“She said a lot of things,” Sirius murmurs and tops up their glasses after draining his.

“And none of them nice,” Regulus agrees.

He leans back, arm slung over the backrest of the chair next to him, and looks at the way the light
reflects from the surface of the amber liquid in his glass. Sirius can see that he’s starting to get the
right amount of drunk by the way his cheeks are flushed, and his eyes get that almost feverish
glint. Some of his hair escapes the carefully arranged hairstyle and falls over his forehead.

Sirius feels a bit dizzy himself, and he doesn’t know whether it’s the alcohol or the sheer amount of
new information he got from Regulus this evening.
“How do you feel about all of this?” Sirius asks. Because he really needs to know that he’s not
alone.

Regulus’ eyebrows twitch and he shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully. “I don’t
feel much of anything. Mostly just a lot of headaches from dealing with all the things that come
with it…”

“Do you need help?” Sirius eyes him carefully. He said he didn’t on the phone, but Sirius couldn’t
see his face then and he’s not entirely sure that he’s been honest with him.

“Not yet,” he says and meets Sirius’ eyes. “You will have to do some paperwork to claim the
inheritance. But the lawyers will get in touch with you about that.”

“Is it a lot?” Sirius asks. When their father died, Walburga dealt with all of it on her own.

“I wouldn’t know,” Regulus says with a bitter smile. “She wrote me out of her will. It’s all yours
now.”

Sirius gapes at him. “She did what?! Why?”

Regulus purses his lips. “Because she thought you would be more likely to have heirs,” he says and
laughs a little. “The irony.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. She wrote Regulus out of her will because he is gay? Sirius feels like he might
choke on the bile that rises in his throat.

“You can have it,” Sirius says firmly. “All of it. I don’t want to have anything to do with this
money.”

“I don’t need it,” Regulus says with an eye roll. “I’m more than comfortable.”

“So am I,” Sirius mentions. He sighs. “Let’s donate a big chunk of it? What would piss her off
most? A queer charity of some kind?”

Regulus grins viciously and takes another sip. “Cheers to that,” he mumbles.

“We’ll split the rest,” Sirius decides. “You deserve it just as much for everything you went
through.”

He hums but doesn’t argue and Sirius feels grateful that he doesn’t have to fight him on this. He
would feel awful taking all the family money for himself just because their mother was a
homophobic hag. Indeed, the irony.

“What do you want to do with the real estate?” Regulus asks curiously and Sirius suddenly
remembers the thoughts he had a while ago about their old house in London and how someday
they would have to decide what to do with it. He didn’t know it would happen so soon. He has to
take a big gulp of his drink to wash down the clump that has formed in his throat.

“Grimmauld Place?” Sirius asks disdainfully. “It can rot for all I care. I was thinking of giving it
away to some homeless shelter or something like that.”

“If anything,” Regulus says slowly, “I would like to take that house. I don’t care about the money
or the other properties.”

Sirius huffs. “Really? You want that?” He can’t understand it. He would die a happy man if he
never had to set foot in that hellhole again. “Why?”

Regulus smirks at him. “I dreamed of gutting and remodelling it into something completely
unrecognizable since I was a child,” he admits. “You know, reclaim that shit or whatever.”

“You’d want to live there?” Sirius asks, still a bit confused. “Even remodelled?”

“Sure,” Regulus says confidently. “Trash all the old, stuffy furniture they loved so much. Put a
jacuzzi in their old bedroom. Have lots of gay sex in every corner of it. This is what I call healing.”

Sirius has to laugh at the imagery of a jacuzzi in the middle of his parents’ bedroom. “Yeah, I
mean, go for it. If that helps.”

Regulus nods. They sit in silence for a while before he looks at Sirius with his dark eyes. “Do you
think I’m a bad person because I don’t feel sad?” he asks as if reading Sirius’ mind.

“I wanted to ask you the same thing, actually,” Sirius replies and smiles humourlessly. “I don’t
know, Reg. Are we? I feel like I grieved my mother, the person she should have been, a long time
ago.”

He exhales slowly and rubs his brow tiredly. “I feel like both of my parents died when father
passed away. She was bad before, but it has gotten so much worse after that.”

Sirius hasn’t thought about his father in a really long time, and when he did, it was always in some
respect tied to his mother. They didn’t really exist separately from each other in his mind. But now
it’s like floodgates open and he’s swamped with memories he tucked away carefully.

The thing about Orion Black was that he wasn’t a good man. But he wasn’t a bad one either. Some
could say he was firmly under his wife’s thumb, but Sirius is not so sure about that. He was just…
not there. He just didn’t care either way. He was never in any way abusive to Regulus or him, he
just didn’t do anything about their mother, or even acknowledged that something was not right.

“Can we just agree that, yeah, it’s sad when people die,” Sirius begins, putting into words all of the
thoughts he had for the past few days. “And that it’s sad that she didn’t tell anyone about her
illness. But that she was old, and we are fully grown adults, and the bond was never there anyway.
So, to hell with all the societal conventions of mourning like the world has ended. She wouldn’t
have cared either way, so rest in peace, and all that.”

“Morbid,” Regulus comments and raises his glass. “Hear, hear!”

 Time-out, have you seen that dog?
Chapter Notes

TW: recreational drug use

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Komm wach auf, ich zähl bis 10 (Come on wake up, I'll count to 10)

Das Leben will einen ausgeben (Life wants to treat us)

Und dass will ich sehen (And I want to see it)

Lass uns endlich rausgehen (Let's finally go outside)

Das Radio aufdrehen (Turn up the radio)

Das wird unser Tag (This will be our day)

Wenn wir endlich aufstehen (When we finally wake up)

– Seeed, Aufstehn

They drink, and they sit in silence for a while, but it’s not awkward. It’s companionable. Talking so
much, especially having such heart-to-heart conversations, wasn’t really something Sirius and
Regulus did very often. Quietly drinking next to each other was more of a thing for them anyway.

“Are you alright?” Regulus asks after a while.

Sirius looks over at him with raised eyebrows. “I thought we agreed–“

“No,” he says and waves a hand dismissively. “I mean, are you doing alright?”

“Yeah,” Sirius says and frowns. “Why?”

Regulus gives him an exasperated look. “Because you fucked off to Berlin on a whim and didn’t
call once. I didn’t know what I should think about that.”

“I said I’m sorry for not calling,” Sirius grumbles. “I know, I know. It’s just… I hit a bit of a
roadblock, and I just needed to get out. I felt like I was slowly drowning in London. But I’m fine
now.”

“Are you?” Regulus asks incredulously. “No, really, are you?”

“Sure,” Sirius says and smiles. “It’s been tough at first – new country, new job, no friends and all
that. But I’m better now. I have Remus.”

Regulus huffs a laugh and shakes his head, amused and disappointed at the same time. “Sirius,
dick doesn’t cure depression.”
Sirius rolls his eyes. “Maybe his dick does?”

“Even your boyfriend’s rainbow dick doesn’t,” Regulus urges. “Look, I’m happy for you. But you
have to think beyond that. Even if you stay together until the end, or whatever, can you imagine
how much pressure that is when someone’s mental health is completely dependent on you?”

“I’m not dependent on him,” Sirius murmurs.

“Imagine he breaks up with you tomorrow.”

Sirius drains his glass and puts it on the table with a dull thud. “Fine, maybe a little bit. But it’s not
that bad, I promise you. It’s not like I’m not getting out of bed or something…”

“How about we don’t let it come to that?” Regulus asks sarcastically. “I will give you the email of
my therapist. He is really good.”

Sirius groans and rubs his face with both hands, slumping in his seat. “Reg, come on… I don’t
need therapy.”

“Everyone needs therapy,” he says, amused. “Just… Send him a message, arrange a call. If it
doesn’t fit, then it doesn’t. But give it a chance.”

Sirius lets out a long-suffering sigh and nods. “Okay, okay. God, relax. I’ll do it,” he relents
begrudgingly. “Can we talk about something else now? What’s up with you, huh? You haven’t
mentioned your promotion once this whole time, I can’t believe you kept it in for so long. Come
on, spill your excellence on me.”

Surprisingly, Regulus goes even quieter at that. He presses his lips into a thin line and plays with
his glass, spinning it a little on the table surface. Sirius watches him until he can’t stand it anymore.
“What’s wrong?”

Regulus stops his infuriating fumbling and looks up at Sirius with guarded eyes. “They are opening
a new branch,” he says. “And they want me to lead the legal department there.”

Sirius smiles at him. “That’s great! Why are you so weird about it?”

“It’s in Berlin.”

Oh. Sirius blinks a couple of times. That’s probably why Regulus is on business matters here in the
first place. That makes sense.

“Because of Brexit and all that shit…” Regulus continues quickly. “You know, for the EU
customers…”

“You don’t have to defend it to me,” Sirius says, amused. “This sounds amazing. What’s the big
deal?”

He sighs and closes his eyes briefly before looking down at his hands again. “I just… don’t want
you to think that I’m–“ He rolls his eyes at himself. “That I’m following you or whatever…”

Sirius smiles at him. “Reg, come on. Really? That’s the issue? You know I wouldn’t think that
way. Just do what feels right.”

“I don’t know, okay?” Regulus says, sounding frustrated. “It’s not that easy. I can’t just… give up
everything I have back in London. I just told you I wanted to remodel the house.”
“The house won’t go anywhere,” Sirius says dismissively. “But it’s your decision, of course. I’m
not trying to convince you either way. I’m just saying that you should think about it.”

Regulus sighs. “I am thinking about it.”

Sirius would have never guessed that Regulus had such silly hang-ups. Did he really worry about
appearing as if he’s doing whatever Sirius is doing? That didn’t make much sense, Regulus was
always doing his own thing – he had a vastly different career than Sirius, one that he actually
enjoyed pursuing, and was more successful because of that; he always seemed more in tune with
himself than Sirius, which was probably due to actually working through his issues; he was always
incredibly proud and self-sufficient, sometimes in the worst way. No one would look at them both
and think, ‘Yeah, that Regulus – definitely a Sirius wannabe’.

“Do you always make your decisions based on what other people might think?” Sirius asks, tilting
his head.

Regulus looks up at him briefly and shrugs his shoulders noncommittally.

“And how’s that working out for you?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You sure you haven’t done therapy before?” he asks, amused.

Sirius grins at him. “I think you really should give Remus a chance. He might surprise you.”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” Regulus murmurs in an annoyed tone. “I get it, you got that happily ever
after. Stop rubbing it in my face.”

It makes Sirius’ chest swell. Because, yeah, he probably did get the happy ending. Or beginning,
whatever way you wanted to look at it. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, or maybe it’s Berlin. Regulus
should give this city a chance as well, who knows what it will do to him in turn?

***

Regulus getting a hotel room was probably a completely unnecessary affair because he never
ended up leaving that night. They sat a good while longer and drank some more, and both got so
pissed that Sirius barely remembers what they were talking about after Regulus told him about his
promotion. He also can’t remember how they went to sleep, but when he wakes up, Regulus is still
dead asleep on his couch, arm hanging limply from the side and almost touching the rug
underneath, and Sirius has a headache the size of the Fernsehturm.

He rolls to the side and tries to make out what woke him up. It’s still pretty early in the morning.
Then he hears the insistent buzzing of his phone. Sirius picks it up blindly from the nightstand and
grunts something unintelligible after accepting the call.

“Hello,” Remus’ chipper voice sounds from the speaker.

“Hi,” Sirius whispers and suppressed a yawn. “How was work?”

“It was alright,” Remus answers in a hushed voice, adapting to Sirius’ volume. “Did I wake you
up? Sorry, I just wanted to ask what your plans were for today.”
Sirius assesses his sorry state, then looks over at the still sleeping Regulus who will probably feel
just as shitty. “I don’t know, I feel sick…”

“Why are we whispering?” Remus asks.

“Reg is still asleep,” Sirius explains and makes himself comfortable, closing his eyes.

Remus laughs softly. “Did you drink so much that he stayed over, and you feel sick?”

Sirius just groans in agreement, earning another laugh from Remus.

“Okay, get some sleep, I just got home as well,” he advises. “We can talk later. I just wanted to tell
you that there will be this thing at the Mauerpark tonight, just some friends if you wanted to
come.”

“Will there be alcohol?” Sirius asks with a suffering sigh.

“Probably,” Remus laughs. “But I can get you a water or something, old man.”

“I don’t appreciate how mean you are to your elders, babe,” Sirius murmurs. “I will try to stay
alive now, bye.”

“Bye,” Remus replies with an audible grin.

Sirius throws the phone unseeingly in the mountain of blankets next to him and puts a pillow over
his face. He didn’t feel like he would be able to fall asleep again, but he must have drifted off
pretty quickly because when he wakes up for the second time, it’s from his doorbell going off.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” he moans, staggering out of bed and rushing to the hallway. Regulus stirs
on the couch as he walks past him.

His head feels heavy and stuffy, and he doesn’t really understand what the person who rang the bell
says into the intercom, so he just opens the door. A couple of moments later, a food courier comes
up the stairs and hands him a paper bag and two coffees. Sirius accepts them, confused, and then
reads the name on the receipt tacked onto the bag. Remus Lupin.

“Who the fuck was that?” Regulus groans, sitting up when Sirius walks back into the room. “I feel
like shit… God, how much did we drink?”

Sirius drops heavily at the end of the couch, setting the food down on the coffee table and sighs.
“Can you believe this? Remus ordered us breakfast. And coffee. I love this man so much; I think I
might explode.” He tilts his head back on the cushion, feeling a bit ill and also kind of emotional in
the most confusing way.

Regulus eyes the food with clear disgust written all over his face but eagerly picks up one of the
coffee cups. “I guess he’s alright,” he grumbles. “Don’t get all sappy on me, it’s too early for that.”

***

Sirius remembers Remus saying something along the lines of ‘just wait until it’s summer in Berlin,
you won’t want to be anywhere else’, and he was absolutely right. Berlin in the summertime was
truly the best place to be. It’s like everyone has shed their skin and was now a better, happier
version of themselves.

The streets are bustling with people – laughing, and smiling, and chatting. The day’s heat hangs
low over the city while the sun is still in full shine despite it being pretty late already. It smells like
delicious food from every corner, music is streaming from the different shops and cafés, and there
is this anticipation in the air – a giddy, hazy feeling of something grand that is about to happen. No
one knows what exactly, there is no logical explanation for it, there is just this palpable magic in
the air.

Sirius steers them from the train station down to the Mauerpark where the green grass is dotted
with countless groups of young people, all hanging out and drinking, some of them around portable
barbecues. Regulus looks at everything with badly concealed curiosity and Sirius hides a smile –
he knows that Regulus can feel this atmosphere as well.

Remus seems to have spotted them first and Sirius sees him coming over and waving to get their
attention.

“Hey!” he says with a massive grin when they are in earshot, his eyes big and shiny behind his
glasses. “There you are! Sorry, the party already started without you.”

“But can a party start without the Black brothers?” Regulus asks playfully, catching Remus’ vibe
again, and Sirius doesn’t even pretend to hide his eye roll.

At least Remus is delighted. “Not for me!” he announces happily and crushes Sirius in a massive
hug, almost knocking him over and laughing. “Come on, let’s go!”

He tugs Sirius by the wrist towards the large group he came from, and Regulus gives Sirius a half-
amused, half-suspicious look behind his back. Sirius sighs and nods with a small smile. Yep,
Remus is high on weed. It’s actually a sign of Regulus’ attentiveness that he even noticed that –
Remus is not really that different from his usual self when he’s drunk or high, maybe a bit easier to
distract and more excitable.

“And still, you started without us,” Sirius says, freeing his wrist from his grasp and wrapping an
arm around Remus’ waist. “Having fun?”

Remus smiles brightly at him and strokes over his back. “I thought you wouldn’t want to drink
tonight, and I didn’t want to drink if you didn’t,” he says. “You want some?”

Sirius laughs and shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll have a beer, actually.”

“Brave,” Regulus mutters. “Can I have some?”

Remus clicks his tongue and gives him a ridiculous finger-gun. “Sure! We can ask James; he has
the good stuff.”

James and his ‘good stuff’. Sirius snorts a laugh. The number of times James came to German
classes high as a kite was probably larger than when he was sober which made for very
entertaining lessons, albeit a somewhat decreased learning efficiency both on his and Sirius’ end.

The group in question is a healthy mix of people Sirius has never seen before and some that he
knows well – Markus is sitting on a turned-over crate of beer and chatting to Lily who is standing
next to him with a bottle of wine in hand that she’s seemingly claimed for herself, Mary and
Dorcas are sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket with a Bluetooth speaker between them (it’s
playing so loudly that Sirius wonders how they can even hear each other), James is standing next to
a group of girls with a football balancing on his foot (he’s trying to show off some trick, it doesn’t
look good so far though) and Kingsley is watching him with a sceptical but amused expression.
There is a whole patchwork of different blankets and throws spread on the ground with people
sitting and lounging on top, bottles and cups in hand, some bags of snacks strewn around.

“London boy!” Markus exclaims, spotting them, and grins. “And London boy twin!”

“He’s duplicating!” Lily chimes in and laughs. “Hello!”

Sirius goes through some introductions, explaining to Regulus briefly who the people are and how
he knows them. Remus hangs off his arm the whole time, radiating warmth like a small fire, and is
more concerned with playing with Sirius’ hair than any conversation around them.

“And this is James,” Sirius says. “We go to German classes together. James, this is Regulus, my
brother.”

James kicks the football up and catches it under his arm before reaching out his hand for Regulus
with a smile. “Ah, the infamous Regulus Black,” he drawls. Sirius has literally mentioned him
once. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Regulus hesitates just a fraction before shaking his hand – unnoticeable for anyone else but Sirius.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, and his voice goes just a tad lower than usual. “Are you from
Scotland?”

“Nice catch,” James says with a wink. “Are you visiting or staying?”

“A bit of both,” Regulus offers with a smile. And Sirius raises his eyebrows in surprise – he
wouldn’t have thought that Regulus would tell anyone at this point besides him. “Rumour has it
that you have some good time to share?”

James laughs a little and shrugs. “Depends on who’s asking,” he says slyly. “I got some good time
for you alright.”

Regulus hums, still smiling. “How fortunate for me.”

“Come along then,” James says and nods to an unoccupied blanket on the other end of the group.

Sirius watches them walk off together and then turns to Remus with wide eyes.

“When’s the wedding, I wonder,” Remus comments with a grin.

“I’m not crazy, am I?” Sirius asks. “I think I saw some sparks flying.”

Remus shrugs and winds his arms around Sirius’ neck, pressing against him fully. “Who cares?” he
whispers into Sirius’ mouth before kissing him. And Sirius doesn’t, really, not with Remus’ tongue
trailing his lower lip and fingers digging into his shoulders.

The rest of the evening flies by in a bat of an eye as is customary for summers in Berlin. Sirius
seamlessly flows from one small group to the next, chatting with people and sipping his singular
beer slowly, more for the company than for the booze. Remus detaches from him at some point,
making his own rounds, but they seem to clash together in random intervals, like waves and the
shore.

Regulus does just fine on his own, of which Sirius had no doubt – if someone could be left alone
with a group of strangers, it’s Regulus Black, the professional social butterfly. Although James’
head can be seen more often than not in his immediate proximity. Sirius watches them with burning
curiosity but nothing compromising happens, they just chat and laugh and smoke together. All very
tame.

“I forgot to ask you,” Remus says at one point, sitting down beside Sirius on a blanket. “Do you
have any plans for August?”

Sirius smiles apologetically at Mary who nods and walks away, their conversation interrupted for
now, then turns to Remus. “No, I don’t think so. The usual, I guess. Why?”

Remus tilts his head and smiles. “I have some vacation days to burn off,” he says. “From last year
even, they’ll go to waste if I don’t take them until October. Do you maybe want to go on a trip
together?”

A holiday? Sirius smiles at him and nods. That sounds really nice, he didn’t even think about
anything like that before.

“Sure, sounds good,” Sirius says. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“Something not too far away?” Remus suggests. “Not sure I want to go outside the EU. Maybe
France or Italy?”

Sirius grins, suddenly struck by an idea. “Have you been to Paris before?”

Remus nods. “Yeah, but as a kid, I don’t remember any of it. You?”

“No,” Sirius admits. “But I always wanted to.”

And actually, sort of planned on moving there after Berlin, he thinks but doesn’t say. Sirius doesn’t
really fancy opening up that can of worms.

Remus grimaces a little. “It sounds nice, but I think Paris is a bit too expensive. I think that would
go over my budget.”

“Oh.” Sirius smiles and rubs his knee. “Don’t worry about it, babe. You just pack your bag and I
cover the rest, okay?”

A shadow passes Remus’ features and his smile fades. “I don’t need you to pay for me,” he says
firmly.

“Well, yeah, but you said–“

“Look,” Remus interrupts him, drawing his knees up to his chest. Sirius’ hand slips off and falls to
the blanket. “I am not some charity case, okay? I’m doing just fine. It’s bad enough that you insist
on always paying when we go out.”

Sirius frowns, not having expected that sort of reaction from Remus. He never showed any
discomfort regarding money before, and Sirius really didn’t mind paying – he had more than
enough money, and Remus was obviously not making a lot of it with his odd barkeeper jobs. Him
not having to pay rent helped, of course, but it was just a no-brainer for Sirius that the one with
better funds pays. He’s done it in every relationship before and no one had any qualms about it
ever.

“I don’t think you’re a charity case,” Sirius says slowly. “And I really don’t mind.”

“Well, I do,” Remus says and huffs a little. “I think it’s a bit disrespectful when you dismiss what
I said like that. Just because you have more money doesn’t mean you get the last word.”

It makes Sirius reel back a bit, an unpleasant clump forming in his stomach at Remus’ words. He
doesn’t feel like this sort of reaction is justified, and he would rather not have an argument in public
like that. He can already see some people glancing over at them curiously.

“Remus,” Sirius says quietly, “I’m sorry if I sounded patronizing in some way but–“

“Okay, time out, time out,” Remus says quickly, looking at something over Sirius’ shoulder, a grin
spreading on his face again. “Have you seen that dog? Look!”

Sirius blinks, stunned, and turns around to follow Remus’ insistent nod. And there really is a
massive dog, completely black and a bit ratty-looking, chasing after a frisbee with a long, pink
tongue lolling out.

Feeling like he got whiplash from Remus’ moods, Sirius turns back to him and shakes his head in
disbelief. “Did you just time out an argument?”

Remus looks at him again, still smiling, and shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

“What?” Sirius rubs his forehead tiredly. “You can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Remus asks curiously. “It’s not that big of a deal. I still love you, and this dog is really
cute. I wasn’t sure they’d still be here when we finished.”

Sirius buries his face in his hands and laughs. Remus fucking Lupin…

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Sirius murmurs. “What were we even arguing about?”

Remus laughs too and prods his shin with a foot. “Something about you paying for a trip to Paris? I
just don’t like it when you pretend like it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not,” Sirius urges and sighs. He catches Remus’ ankle with one hand and tugs, making him
stretch out his legs over his lap. “Babe, I don’t care how much money you have or not. I’ve got
more than enough. Have it all for all I care. Don’t make this part of the decision-making process of
where to go, okay?”

“How do you say it so lightly?” Remus asks, exasperated. “It’s not like we’re married.”

Sirius huffs a laugh and points a finger at him. “I vividly remember you saying that you’d ask me
to marry you if you weren’t afraid that I’d have a mental breakdown about it.”

Remus looks at him very seriously. “I said I would have ,” he says in a grave tone. “Don’t put
words in my mouth. Don’t you dare take this away from me, Sirius! I refuse to participate in a by-
the-way proposal!”

Sirius’ heart skips a beat at that casual confirmation, and he feels his cheeks heat up. It was a joke!
Remus fucking Lupin did not just–

“Anyway,” Remus says quickly. “I just don’t want it to be like I’m feeding off you or something.”

It takes Sirius all of his self-control to let that little piece of information slide without further
comment. He will think about this at some later point. Maybe scream a little, have a little cry. Not
now though.

“I don’t know how else to say it so that you would understand,” Sirius admits. “I don’t mind. I
would love to pay for a trip if that means we get to go to Paris together and have a nice time. I like
paying when we go out. Accumulating money just for the sake of it is meaningless, and spending it
on you, on us , is the best investment I can think of right now. So would you please let me?”

Remus’ face does something complicated, a quick shift of emotions that Sirius struggles to
decipher completely. Then he exhales and nods. “Okay,” he says simply.

“Okay?” Sirius smiles slowly, eyebrows raised, and squeezes his calf.

“Okay!” Remus laughs and folds himself almost in half to reach for Sirius’ lips, his legs still
thrown over Sirius’ lap. “Let’s go to Paris!”

Sirius laughs into the kiss. It’s awkward and messy, and there are probably people watching, but he
doesn’t care. Because, fuck, he loves that man. With all his silly jokes, and weird quirks, and proud
ways.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Regulus’ dry voice sounds above them, and Remus leans back, still grinning.
“I’ll be heading off now.”

Remus shifts to allow Sirius to stand up and smiles up at Regulus. “Thank you for coming! I hope
you had a good time.” His smile turns cheeky. “I hope we’ll see each other soon.”

Regulus nods at him, and for once, his returning smile is genuine. He pats Remus’ shoulder in an
almost companionable way – something Sirius rarely sees from him – and says, “I’m sure we will.
Take care of this one for me, will you? I know he’s a handful, but he’s got a heart of gold.”

Oh, yeah, right. Regulus is high. Sirius laughs a little and shakes his head with a mix of
embarrassment and exasperation. He almost forgot that part. That would explain the sudden
sappiness.

Remus just nods, his eyes soft when he glances over at Sirius for a moment. “I know,” he replies
seriously.

“Come on,” Sirius murmurs, taking Regulus firmly by the shoulder and steering him away before
he can say something else like that. It would be just great if he blurted out about Sirius loving
Remus before he gets the chance to do so himself. What a mess that would be. “Let’s get you in a
cab.”

They walk through the park together, the sun already setting and throwing a gentle, orange filter
over everything.

“James, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Sirius grins. “I’m quiet, I’m quiet,” he says, amused. “Do you need a lift to the airport tomorrow
after your work thing?”

Regulus scoffs. “I’m not a child. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

Sure, he can. Always did. Sirius eyes him sideways and feels an overwhelming wave of emotions,
all complicated and irrevocably tangled together. Fondness, nostalgia, grief, relief… Following a
sudden urge, he sighs, rolls his eyes at himself for actually doing this, and then hugs him.

Regulus staggers – they were full-on walking, after all – and freezes up in Sirius’ embrace. “Oh
God, not this,” he murmurs disdainfully. “Ew. Please stop.”

“Shut up,” Sirius says, annoyed. “I’m having a moment here.”

Regulus grunts something unintelligible under his breath but relaxes a fraction. And then Sirius
feels a brief press of his palm between his shoulder blades before he retreats.

“We will not talk about this,” Regulus says firmly. “Keep walking. People are staring .”

“No one cares,” Sirius sighs and laughs a little. “Why so prickly, little brother? I thought you said
you loved me?”

Regulus groans, tilting his head back and resolutely turns away to continue walking. “This never
happened! We agreed on this!”

“It was nice seeing you again,” Sirius says earnestly. It amuses him to no end how Regulus can
barely handle any kind of affection coming from him.

“Whatever.” He sighs. “I guess I didn’t hate it.”

They reach the street and Sirius pulls up the app on his phone to call a cab. At least this way he
will know that Regulus arrived at his hotel safely. Because he’s not sober, of course, just because
of that.

“What will you do tomorrow?” Sirius asks.

Regulus rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively. “Why do you care?”

Sirius hums and cocks his head. “Do you even have a work thing on Monday?”

There is a pause in which Regulus studies the facade of the building on the opposite side of the
street. “Of course, I do,” he says seriously. But then he glances at Sirius from the corner of his eye
and his lips quirk up a tiny bit. “I never said which Monday.”

That fucker. Sirius shakes his head, smiling. “Call me if you need any help with… you know.”

Regulus’ ride arrives and he walks up to the car. Before he gets in, he turns around and gives Sirius
a sharp look. “ You call me if you need any help,” he says. “Bye, Sirius.”

“See you, Reg.”

Sirius watches the cab drive off and stands there for a while, looking unseeingly into the distance.
The street is twinkling with bright lights from the many windows, and there are lots of people
hanging around, or sitting on the outdoor patios of the restaurants and cafés opposite the park, their
low murmur a warm background noise. Sirius feels lonely all of a sudden.

Until he hears steps behind him, and he’s enveloped in a warm back hug. Remus smells like
oranges and smoke and summer nights, and Sirius leans against him gratefully. At this moment,
Remus’ chest feels as sturdy and unmovable as a rock.

“Want to go back?” he asks softly.

Sirius shrugs. “Do you?”

Remus presses a tickling kiss on his neck, and Sirius smiles, tilting his head to press his cheek
against Remus’ forehead. “Not really.”
“Let’s go home then.”

***

There was probably not a single instance when Sirius didn’t think Remus was beautiful. And, sure,
he was objectively a pretty attractive bloke anyway, but the real beauty of Remus Lupin lay
somewhere deeper. He was shining with it from the inside – with every flash of a grin, every dip of
dimples, every bounce of curls, with every word coming from his lips.

He was beautiful when he was working – the club lights reflecting from his glasses, hands moving
effortlessly, cutting limes, pouring shots, flipping shakers. Or shortly after a shower, hair still wet
and heavy, cheeks rosy from the hot water, sitting on the bed in just a pair of boxers – all relaxed,
and soft, and smelling of his soap. Or walking through Berlin – always at least one step ahead of
Sirius as if too impatient for slower walking; every step so light and sure as if he owns the city,
eyes alive and attentive.

But, by God, nothing could top moments like this. Sirius bites his lip, smiling, and wipes a hand
over Remus’ damp forehead gently.

Sex with Remus is many different things – it can be quick and desperate, it can be hard and fast,
but Sirius loved it most when it was like this, slow and unhurried. And as much as he preferred
bottoming most of the time, witnessing Remus like this was even better. He was always quick to
shut off his brain as soon as the real stuff started, but this – this was the very peak of him signing
off, and Sirius couldn’t get enough of it.

It’s a breath-taking sight, a picture that deserves a spot in the Sistine Chapel, Sirius would pray in
front of it if he could – Remus under him, legs crossed behind Sirius’ back, heaving chest shiny
with sweat, head thrown back so much that the tendons on his neck look uncomfortably strained.
Sirius fucks him the way he knows makes Remus lose it – slow, shallow thrusts deep inside. It’s
not enough for Sirius to finish, which is for the better because that means he can do this for as long
as he needs to.

And Remus is completely gone by now, has been for a while. His eyes are rolled back, and he lost
the ability of speech some time ago, the only sound coming from him is just a continuous, quiet
whine that makes Sirius’ spine tingle. His cock, rock-hard, is trapped between them, stimulated
only by the slick glide of Sirius’ abdomen against it with every thrust, sweat and pre-come mixing
together in the filthiest way possible.

Sirius knows that Remus is on edge, but this is the best part of it because the stimulation is enough
to make him lose it but not enough to tip him over just yet, and so it builds and builds and builds.
Sirius gets so much satisfaction from it, he wouldn’t even mind not coming at all today – from the
way Remus bites his lips, already red and swollen from the assault, the way his legs tense and
shake from strain before it gets too much for his muscles and he has to relax, going limp and
breathing hard, over and over again.

Remus will have sore legs for some days after that, and Sirius’ head spins with only the thought
that Remus will be reminded of this night for a while with every step he takes, every time he sits
down or stands up. He will complain about it, of course, and demand massages. And Sirius will
comply, of course , because he loves him so goddamn much.
Sirius takes a shaky breath, and it has nothing to do with the sex, and his chest threatens to explode
from all the emotions. It fills and fills and fills up, with every flutter of Remus’ eyelashes, every
tremble of his thighs, every breath from his lips, until it overflows and…

“I love you,” Sirius says. And it’s only a whisper, he can barely hear it himself above the pounding
of his heart.

But maybe he miscalculated how lost to his sensations Remus really is. Because his eyes fly open
instantly, fixing unseeingly on the ceiling for a second, and then he pushes Sirius off with an
amount of force he shouldn’t have had at this moment. It happens so quickly that Sirius doesn’t
even register him moving until he’s thrown off him and almost tumbles out of the bed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Sirius grimaces and rubs the elbow he banged against the bedframe. “Ow,
babe, that hurt. What happened?”

Remus shifts and straddles his hips, eyes wide, cheeks flaming red, breathing hard. “Say that
again.”

Sirius swallows, suddenly very self-conscious. He didn’t plan this! Remus wasn’t even meant to
hear it at all! And this is not exactly the reaction he envisioned when he thought about how it
would happen when he finally got over his stupid hang-ups and said it.

Remus puts his hands on Sirius’ chest, pushing him down on his back and leaning over him with
an expression on his face that is so raw and vulnerable, Sirius doesn’t even have to try anymore
when he repeats, “I love you.”

He expects an ‘I love you’ back, or some sort of mocking comment about how he’s finally
managed to spit it out, or at least a passionate kiss. Sirius does not expect Remus to suddenly
collapse on top of him and hide his face in the crook of Sirius’ neck. His shoulders start to shake
and at first Sirius thinks he’s laughing – that would be a very Remus thing to do in a situation like
this.

But no, Sirius realizes, he’s crying .

“Oh my God,” Sirius breathes out and wraps his arms around his back. “No, no, no! What’s
wrong? Babe?”

Congratulations, a voice in his head says, you fucked it up. You fucked it up, Sirius Black! You
finally find the courage to say it and then the love of your life is sobbing actual tears into your neck
because you’re a fucking moron that–

“Nothing,” Remus says, interrupting Sirius’ spiralling, and presses even closer as if trying to melt
into Sirius’ chest. “I’m just so relieved…”

Oh.

Congratulations, the same voice pipes up again, your little mommy issues made the love of your
life so insecure that when he finally hears you admit to your feelings, he has to cry from fucking
relief because all this time he’s been opening his heart and never receiving anything back and–

His self-talk is interrupted yet again by Remus, but not by something he says this time. Because he
sits up, and there is a small smile on his lips again, and he is still very obviously hard. Sirius’ own
erection, having somewhat subsided after he realized that Remus was crying because of him,
returns as soon as he’s fixed with Remus’ heavy-lidded look, the one that screams ‘fuck me’.
 Remus reaches behind and lifts on his knees, guiding Sirius’ cock with his hand before sinking
down on it slowly, chin lifted but eyes still trained on Sirius’ face. And now it’s Sirius’ turn to
throw his head back and moan because, fuck, how can it suddenly feel like Remus is fucking him
and not the other way around?

“I love you,” Sirius says again, and why was he even struggling so much with that? Nothing is
easier than telling Remus that he loves him, nothing has felt more true or right – Sirius would
check if two plus two is really four on a calculator before he’d doubt that he loves Remus.

Remus’ smile grows wider; he lifts his hands above his head, fingers linked together, and it looks
like a mix of a stretch and a victory pose when he sinks down on Sirius’ cock again, harder. And
again, and again.

And in this surreal moment, when Remus is grinning like mad, face still streaked with drying tears
of happiness, arms stretched out above his head while he rides Sirius in a display of pure hedonism,
Sirius really knows that he actually got it. He got it. This is his happily ever after. This is the happy
end, he just knows it.

Until, two days later, Remus stops answering his calls.

Chapter End Notes

I'M SORRY-
 We can be there for each other
Chapter Notes

Firstly, let me apologize again for the emotional rollercoaster I gave you with the
cliffhanger on the last chapter! I hope this ending will make up for it.

Secondly, I suggest you read this short Remus POV snippet first (in case you haven’t
yet) before reading this chapter. The last scene will make a bit more sense this way,
but it’s not necessary at all.

Thirdly, TW for descriptions of childhood abuse.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Du hast mich abgeholt und hingebracht (You picked me up and dropped me off)

Bist mitten in der Nacht wegen mir aufgewacht (Woke up in the middle of the night for me)

Ich hab in letzter Zeit so oft daran gedacht (I've been thinking about it so much lately)

Wir waren in Prag, Paris und Wien in der Bretagne und Berlin (We've been to Prague, Paris,
Vienna, Brittany and Berlin)

Aber nicht in Kopenhagen (But not Copenhagen)

Du hast dich oft gefragt, was mich zerreißt (You've often wondered what's been tearing me apart)

Und ich habe aufgehört, mich das zu fragen (And I've stopped asking myself that question)

– AnnenMayKantereit, Oft gefragt

The thing is, Sirius doesn’t catch on that something is wrong instantly. When he goes to work on
Monday, Remus is still sleeping in his bed, hugging two blankets at once and breathing softly. He
even sends Sirius a picture from his pottery class that evening – a row of vases the students made,
one looking worse than the other – and they chat a bit about their day.

The next day, Sirius sends Remus a text at lunch to which he doesn’t reply. Which is not exactly
unusual, maybe he’s busy with something. Sirius doesn’t think much of it. That evening Sirius
calls him after work, wondering whether he should come over or Remus has an evening shift that
day – he doesn’t pick up, so Sirius assumes he’s working and doesn’t bother him further.

When Remus doesn’t call or text back that night, Sirius is a bit confused – usually, Remus always
replies as soon as he’s able to. But who knows, maybe he’s had to work overtime. Sirius sends him
a goodnight text, saying that he hopes everything is alright before going to bed. A little voice inside
his head pipes up with the weirdest scenarios, one more absurd than the other, but Sirius shuts it
down firmly.

Everything was great, perfect even. Sirius finally told him that he loved him, and Remus was
happy, Sirius was happy, everyone was happy. The end, right?

When Remus doesn’t reply to his good-morning text on Wednesday, Sirius starts to worry for real.
Did something happen to him? Did Sirius somehow fuck this up after all? Was it too late?

He tries calling him, with no success. And then again. And again. After that, his calls go straight to
voice mail.

“Fuck,” Sirius mutters under his breath, his heart beating heavy and dull in his chest.

After some consideration, Sirius asks in the group chat where some of their friends are if anyone
has heard anything from Remus lately.

Around late afternoon, after a whole day of not getting anything done at work and fretting, Sirius
almost drops his coffee when his phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket frantically, but the
name on the screen is not Remus.

“Hello,” Markus says into the speaker when Sirius picks up.

“Hey.” Sirius swallows and bites his lip anxiously, stopping in his tracks in the middle of the
hallway. “Is everything alright?”

Markus sighs. “Not really,” he says flatly. “I thought Remus talked to you about it… He said I
shouldn’t worry.”

“What is it?” Sirius asks, his heart skipping a beat. “What happened?”

Markus sighs again, and there is some shuffling on the other end of the line. “He’s at home,” he
says in the same flat voice. “You should come… It’s–“ He sighs again. “Yesterday was four years
since his parents and Helen… I really think you should come, Sirius.”

“Fuck,” Sirius breathes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. He didn’t say anything… How is he?”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “Bad. Like every year. He’ll be fine, he always is. But you should come.
I think it would help even though he doesn’t think so.”

“Of course,” Sirius says instantly and hurries to his office. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” Markus says. “See you.”

“Bye,” Sirius replies distractedly, already shutting off his computer and picking up his bag.

The train ride to Remus’ flat is probably the longest Sirius has ever experienced before. These
thirty minutes stretch like chewing gum, sticky and endlessly, and he’s probably annoying
everyone around him with the way he taps his foot impatiently the whole time.

He remembers distantly Remus saying that the accident where his family died happened in June
but that was the only time he spoke about it in any detail, and even then, he didn’t mention the
exact date. And nothing alluded to the fact that the date was coming up – he behaved completely
normal the whole week leading up to that Tuesday.

Why didn’t he say anything?

Sirius goes through everything that happened that past week, trying to find any clues in Remus’
behaviour that would suggest that he’s mourning. But there was nothing, he was as chipper and
cheerful as always, maybe even more so, trying to distract Sirius from–
Oh. Right.

Sirius suppresses a groan and bangs the back of his head lightly against the train wall he’s leaning
on. Of course, a week ago Sirius found out that his mother died. And Remus, bless him, was trying
his hardest to support Sirius. That would explain why he didn’t say anything.

But what was he expecting? That he could just shut himself out for a week and then return to
normal after he’s dealt with his grief, and Sirius wouldn’t notice?

They were in a relationship, for fuck’s sake, Sirius just finally told him that he loves him! Wasn’t
that enough to warrant some trust? Sirius feels a bit hurt by that but mostly just incredibly
concerned for Remus and his mental state. It’s not about Sirius right now.

He almost sprints to Remus’ house and runs up the stairs. He will do his best to be there for
Remus, and if he really doesn’t want him around, then Sirius will deal with that. He should respect
his choice even if Markus thinks that it’s the wrong one. But Sirius has to try.

“Thank you,” Markus whispers, coming out of the kitchen when Sirius unlocks the door with his
set of keys and walks in.

“Where is he?” Sirius whispers back, toeing off his shoes and setting down the bag in the corner of
the hallway.

“His room.”

Sirius nods and is about to go down the hallway before a realization hits him.

“Hey.” He steps up to Markus and squeezes his shoulder in a way that he hopes conveys
compassion without being too intruding. “How are you doing?”

Markus sighs again, for the millionth time probably, and shrugs awkwardly. “I’m good,” he says
unconvincingly and glances over to where the door to Remus’ room is. “Better, anyway.”

“Someone’s always got it harder,” Sirius says kindly. “It doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t
important.”

Markus smiles a little and nods. “Thanks.”

“I’m here if you need anything,” Sirius says and retreats. “I’ll see after Remus now.”

Sirius knocks on Remus’ door and then walks in anyway after a moment of silence. It’s dim in
there; the curtains are shut and only a little bit of the sunlight filters through the heavy material.
Sirius thought that Remus might be sleeping, but he’s awake, sitting in his bed. As soon as he sees
Sirius walk in, he shuts the laptop in his lap quickly and rubs his face.

It feels a bit like Sirius just walked in on him watching porn, but on second thought – that must
have been really sad, cinematic porn if Remus is crying, and on third thought – Remus wouldn’t be
embarrassed by that anyway, not enough to hide like that.

“Hey,” Sirius says softly and comes closer.

“Hi,” Remus replies, his voice scratchy, and then clears his throat. He’s still avoiding Sirius’ eyes.
“What are you doing here?”

“Do not fret,” Sirius says importantly and smiles a little. “The boyfriend support has arrived.
Everything will be fine now.”

Remus looks up at him then. He looks exhausted, older somehow, and so, so sad. He wipes his
eyes again and sniffs. “I’m okay,” he tries but his voice is weak. “No, really, don’t worry about
me. I’ll be back to normal in a bit. Just…”

Sirius sighs and stops next to the bed. It’s a mess of blankets and used tissues, and on the wide
ledge of the bedframe perches a large box with stuff in it – clothes, papers, pictures.

“Can I join?” Sirius asks softly.

Remus sniffs again. “I– I don’t want you to see me like this,” he admits. “You’ve got enough stuff
to worry about…”

“Like what, love?” Sirius reaches out and cards a hand through Remus’ curls. Even his hair is
somehow limp and listless today. “You’re my main worry, always.”

With some reluctance, Remus shifts a little to make space for Sirius to climb into bed, but as soon
as Sirius reclines against the pillows, he presses against his chest and hides his face somewhere
between Sirius’ collarbones.

“Now it sounds like I make you worry all the time…” Remus murmurs.

“No,” Sirius says and hugs him closer, “only when you disappear like that. Do you want to talk
about it?”

Remus shakes his head and exhales wetly, going slack against Sirius’ chest. “I don’t know what to
say… It’s silly, it’s been years–“ He hesitates for a moment. “It should be easier now.”

“I don’t think this is how it works,” Sirius tells him in what he hopes is a soothing voice. Remus’
back is warm and a little damp from sweat as he strokes it in slow circles. Berlin has been hit by a
heatwave the past few days and the temperature was climbing over thirty degrees now – even in
Remus’ old building the air was thick and heavy. “You’re allowed to feel sad.”

Sirius doesn’t know much about grief management, is probably the last person to give out advice
on that, but even he understands that it’s not something you go through once and then get over it
for the rest of your life. And especially on dates like this one, it’s completely understandable that
Remus feels knocked out of normal life.

“The last thing I want is for you to feel like your feelings aren’t valid because my mother died
shortly before, okay?” Sirius presses a kiss on the top of Remus’ head. “Or that you can’t tell me
something because you think I’ve got it worse.”

“You do have it worse,” Remus argues stubbornly. “Schatz, I am so sorry… I don’t know how to
help you, or how to be there for you… And now I feel like I can’t–“

His shoulders start shaking and Sirius has a strong feeling of déjà vu, but now these are definitely
not happy tears. His heart clenches painfully and Sirius feels overwhelmed with pity and
helplessness. Oh, Remus… Even now he’s worried about Sirius instead of himself.

“Shh.” Sirius strokes his back and shoulders as if he’s trying to wipe away all the bad things with
his hands. “You’ve done enough. It’s helping to know that I’m not alone. We can be there for each
other, okay? How does that sound?”

Remus nods weakly, still sobbing softly. Seeing anyone cry is horrible, but when it’s Remus, it
feels somehow ten times more wrong. He should not be devastated like this – if anyone deserved
an unbothered, happy life, then it was Remus. He should be smiling and laughing, and doing his
little dance when he brushes his teeth, and singing along to any music playing as if no one is
listening, and talking to his plants as if they are sentient beings. But as much as Sirius wishes for
him to be like that all the time, Remus is a complex human being with all kinds of issues, and
history, and pain – something that Sirius struggled to reconcile in his head for a long time.

They sit like that for a while – at some point, Remus’ tears dry up, but he stays in Sirius’ arms
anyway. And it doesn’t matter that Sirius back starts aching, or that his shoulders cramp up from
holding Remus like that, or that he wouldn’t mind sneaking off to the bathroom for a second – the
world could crumble around them for all he cares, and he wouldn’t move a finger as long as Remus
needs him.

“Are you hungry?” Sirius asks.

“No,” Remus mumbles against his neck.

Of course not, Sirius thinks and mentally rolls his eyes at himself. “If you could have any meal
right now, any at all, what would it be?”

He can sense Remus’ smile against his skin, and it feels like a victory to Sirius – he remembers as
well. “I don’t know,” he says after a while, and his smile fades.

“I was thinking pizza,” Sirius suggests and grins. “Yeah? Pizza? She isn’t the queen of the food
chain for nothing, eh?”

“That’s not how the food chain works,” Remus replies, and there is a trace of mockery in his tone
that makes Sirius' heart jump with hope. “I’m really not hungry…”

“Well, I am,” Sirius announces and pulls out his phone to place an order. “And you know me, my
eyes are always bigger than my stomach. I might just order too much, oops, and then someone
would have to help me.”

Remus huffs a little and then sighs. “You don’t have to do this…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sirius singsongs. “Don’t mind me, ordering delicious
food into bed. That’s my lifestyle, sue me if you will.”

Remus does actually laugh a little at that, and Sirius high-fives himself in his mind. “Verhaftet
wegen sexy,” he murmurs and chuckles.

“I don’t know what you said, but I heard ‘sexy’, and that’s all I need to know,” Sirius muses.
“Okay, the order is done!”

He sighs and noses Sirius’ neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Sirius says.

“I still can’t believe it…” Remus murmurs quietly.

Sirius frowns. “Of course, I do. You were the one to say that you don’t need to hear me say it to
know it’s true.”

“I said a lot of things,” he admits. “But… yeah.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Sirius says earnestly.

“Don’t be,” Remus asks softly. “I would have waited forever if that meant I could still be with
you.”

Sirius squeezes him tighter, feeling overwhelmed with emotions once again. He really doesn’t
deserve someone like Remus in his life. If Sirius would allow himself to think about that for
longer, he would probably spiral into some dark place himself, so he firmly pushes these thoughts
away.

After a while, Sirius dares to ask, “What were you doing when I came? Were you watching
something?”

Remus hums and nods. “Yeah… Just some old videos. I– We had these videotapes, from when we
were children. I converted them into files a couple of years ago. And… yeah, maybe I shouldn’t
watch them at all. But it’s– I can’t help it sometimes.”

Oh.

“I understand,” Sirius says. “These are good memories, yes?”

He smiles a little again. “Yes. There are lots of boring dance practice videos from Helen when she
was like twelve, but also some Christmases and birthdays and that sort of stuff.” He hesitates. “Do
you… do you want to see?”

Sirius is a little surprised that he would even suggest that. “Sure, I’d love to,” he says. “If you want
to show me?”

“Yeah…” Remus detaches from Sirius’ chest then, and the spot where he was is suddenly very
cold and empty. He rubs his face with both hands and sits back against the pillows next to Sirius,
pulling the laptop out of the blankets where it slid off to earlier. “I think I want to.”

Remus opens up a folder with a long list of video files and then sets the computer on Sirius’ lap
before sliding down on the pillows and turning to his side. He can’t see the screen in this position,
but he can see Sirius’ face, and Sirius gives him a soft smile before clicking on the first video.

The truth is – Sirius is incredibly curious. He is still not entirely sure how a personality like
Remus’ develops, and even though he made it out to be like it’s just some trauma response, Sirius
doesn’t think so. He’s heard enough stories about Remus’ childhood and adolescence that fall in
line with how he is as an adult now. Stealing shopping carts and racing them down the street with
his friends, tattooing ‘NOT this leg’ above his knee just to make sure the surgeon wouldn’t get
confused, stealing a street sign for a crush – all things he did way before the tragic death of his
parents and sister. And getting to see old home videos of him and his family feels like the biggest
insight Sirius could get into his past life.

The first video was obviously shot on Christmas, and it seems like Remus’ father is filming
judging by the voice behind the camera. It’s like a collage of short clips over a few days. The
videos are in German, obviously, and Sirius is still not proficient enough to understand everything,
but it doesn’t really matter. He gets the gist.

A festively decorated living room. Then a tall, blonde woman in a green dress carrying dishes to a
dinner table. Then a shot of a snow-covered backyard from a window, the general shapes of two
children playing in the snow. Then, for the first time clearly, Remus – probably around eight or ten,
without glasses, his hair even lighter than it is now – showing off a cartwheel and almost knocking
over the Christmas tree in the process. Then a girl, Helen, with short, brown hair and eyes the same
green as Remus’, ripping open a gift and clapping her hands happily.

Sirius sees these people for the first time (except for Remus, of course), he has never met them in
real life, has no connection to them besides some stories he’s heard, and even he is close to tears
when he watches all these little videos. He doesn’t know how Remus is doing this.

And it just goes on like this, hours and hours of footage, not following a chronological order at all.
A video of a newborn baby crying in a hospital crib. Then a video of Helen on her first day of
school, holding a huge paper cone filled with sweets and flashing a smile into the camera, two little
teeth missing. Remus, maybe around fourteen, during some school performance, singing in the
choir. Helen, twelve, dancing Salsa amongst other students. Remus, at least sixteen or seventeen,
and his mom (same hair, same body language), playing a cards game on a beach, him grinning in a
painfully familiar way into the camera. Helen and Remus, around ten or twelve, posing in front of
the Christmas tree in matching pyjamas, him trying to trip her over. Remus, a chubby toddler, and
his dad on a playground, him lifting little Remus up on the swing.

At some point, the food arrives and Sirius forces Remus to eat at least a little bit which he does
listlessly. The whole time, Remus doesn’t look at the laptop screen, instead choosing to either
watch Sirius’ face or bury his head in Sirius’ side from time to time. After a while, he falls asleep,
his fingers clasping the hem of Sirius’ shirt securely.

There is more than just old home videos. When Sirius is done with those, he finds another folder
that contains newer videos – all pulled from social media, all of Helen. Sirius eyes Remus
carefully, making sure he’s still asleep and lowers the volume before playing them.

It’s a bit surprising to see Helen like that – the home videos stopped after they were about sixteen
or eighteen, but these were recent ones, probably shortly before she died. She must be between
twenty and twenty-two in those, and she looks vastly different to her sixteen-year-old self.

Gone are the brown hair, and the flowy skirts, and the braces. Now she’s all heavy Doc Martens,
and ink-covered arms, and fluorescent hair – pink, then blue, then lilac, then yellow, then pink
again. Posing in front of a mirror in a club restroom, saluting with a beer at some outdoor party,
filming herself with friends singing and dancing at a festival, leaning over a lanky guy on a padded
table with a piercing needle in her gloves-covered hands.

Sirius watches the short snippets of her with a weird feeling in his stomach – a feeling of
familiarity, for some inexplicable reason. He feels like he knows her, just from watching this out-
of-context video reel. He feels incredibly sad that this misplaced, fictitious feeling will never
become real.

Remus shows up in these videos as well from time to time. Them smoking a hookah at a bar,
Remus blowing out rings of heavy smoke and her poking a finger through them and spinning them
around in the air until they dissolve. Remus and her, hand in hand, both holding up a pride flag high
above their heads, faces covered in glitter, bodies covered in fish-lace, at a parade. Helen filming
Remus trying to ride a skateboard on the Tempelhofer Feld and almost face-planting with a
contagious laugh, then filming herself drawing circles around him on the ground in roller-skates.

Helen and Remus, sitting on a stone ledge in front of train tracks just as a train rushes past, their
hands linked above their heads, both laughing maniacally.

Sirius has to hold his breath and close his eyes in an attempt to reign in his emotions. He exhales
slowly. He looks over at a sleeping Remus, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown even while
dreaming. He closes the laptop.
Right. He knows what they need to do.

***

“I can’t believe you took me here on a first date,” Sirius says.

He sets down his beer bottle on the dusty, white stone and unwraps a lollipop. It’s bright green and
the wrapper sticks to it stubbornly, but Sirius manages to get it off in one piece and pops it in his
mouth.

Remus watches him curiously and smiles a little. “I had a feeling you needed something like that,”
he says softly. “Did you like it?”

Sirius snorts a laugh. “Apart from the sore throat I had for days afterwards? Yeah, I liked it.”

“It was a bit cold,” Remus admits sheepishly. “Not like now…”

That frosty February day seems like a lifetime away. Actually, Sirius wouldn’t mind a cooler
breeze right now – the sun is setting, but it’s still almost unbearably hot and the t-shirt he borrowed
from Remus clings unpleasantly to his damp back.

Getting Remus out of bed earlier was quite a task. He protested with all his might, saying he was
too tired, or not in the mood, or couldn’t be bothered, but when Sirius found out that he hadn’t
actually left his bed in two days, he forced him out of it. Remus was grumpy and flustered when
Sirius made him take a shower – the only way was to get in the tub with him together, and that
made Remus very shy for some weird reason. He eyed Sirius suspiciously while he undressed
them, but when Sirius started lathering him up, he wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck and cried
again. Sirius doesn’t know why – maybe it was the intimacy that didn’t have anything to do with
sex, maybe it was the shame, or possibly some sort of relief from being able to let someone take
care of him.

After the shower, Remus just slumped into his bed again. He stopped protesting at that point,
perhaps too tired after the emotional outburst in the bathroom, but made no moves to get dressed
himself. So, Sirius did it for him, the feeling of protectiveness settling in his chest firmly while he
rummaged through Remus’ closet.

“Hm, let’s see,” he drawled with a grin and held up two shirts. “Yellow with dinosaur print or, my
personal favourite, Andy Warhol's Marylin Monroe?”

Remus didn’t reply, busy rubbing his hands together aimlessly.

“I agree,” Sirius said with a put-on sigh, “weak choices. We need something that pops today.
Something that screams ‘my aesthetic is kidcore and I’m proud of it’, yeah?”

He pulled out two more shirts – a rainbow-striped polo and a white shirt with a vintage-looking
Fanta print on the front. “Say, what are we feeling today? ‘Gay and frisky’ or ‘ironic capitalism’,
hm?”

That actually made Remus chuckle a little. “Gay and frisky?” he asked, amused. “What’s frisky?”
“I’m pretty sure a picture of you pops up when you google it,” Sirius joked and put the white shirt
back in the closet. “Alright, Mister Leave Me Alone, arms up!”

Sirius rolls the lolly in his mouth and grimaces. It tastes like apple, but in the worst, most artificial
way possible. Remus will like it.

“Here,” he says and pulls the candy out of his mouth before shoving it in Remus’ face. “It’s
disgusting.”

Remus just watches him for a moment. He still looks down and tired, but Sirius can see the familiar
glint in his eyes returning gradually, just a tiny flash of playfulness amongst the apathy.

“Okay,” he relents and takes the lollipop in his mouth. Then hums. “It tastes green.”

“Yeah,” Sirius scoffs and makes big eyes. “I know. Revolting.”

“Your tastes are as bad as ever,” Remus murmurs around the candy and rolls his eyes. “Why did
you get it?”

“Premature midlife crisis?”

Remus laughs silently. “Title of your autobiography.”

Sirius clutches his heart dramatically. “Ow. Apply cold water to that burn.”

There is a moment of silence, and Remus takes out the candy for a moment, looking at it pensively,
before putting it back in his mouth. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Sirius says and shrugs. “But I will continue until you tell me to get lost, alright?”

Remus sighs and frowns. “I don’t know how you put up with me,” he murmurs. “Don’t you get
tired?”

The idea of ever getting tired of Remus Lupin – no matter in which mood he’s in – is so laughable
to Sirius that he almost knocks over his beer while shaking with mirth. He rubs his eyes, still
chuckling, and then looks up at Remus. “No?” Sirius laughs again, more out of disbelief. “Look,
babe, I know it’s been a long time coming, and maybe I’m shit at showing it, and maybe I’m not as
openly affectionate as you, but it’s only because nothing I could say or do would accurately
describe how much I love you.”

Remus’ face crumbles at that and Sirius catches his eyes filling with tears before he looks away
and sniffs, leaning his cheek against his bent knee, away from Sirius.

Sirius rubs his back. “Happy tears or sad tears?”

“I don’t know,” Remus says stiffly. “I just… I feel so much. It’s too much.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius says softly. “You’re so strong all the time. I know it’s hard, I can feel how
restless you get sometimes. Maybe it’s better to let the feelings through instead of pushing them
away.”

Remus chuckles wetly. “I’m really not,” he says bitterly. “Look at me, all whiny and pathetic, and
I don’t even know why. I don’t see you crying about everything like that.”
Sirius huffs a laugh. “Oh, I do sometimes,” he admits. “I just hide it better. We weren’t allowed to
cry, you know? I still struggle with it.”

“What do you mean, you weren’t allowed to cry?” he asks, surprised, and shifts to look Sirius in
the eyes.

“Well, exactly that,” Sirius says and even now, almost twenty years later, feels his throat choke up.
“If we cried, we got punished.”

He doesn’t feel comfortable talking about it, especially not in these circumstances. It’s not about
him at the moment, he doesn’t even know why he brought it up. Sirius doesn’t think he ever talked
about it with anyone, not even with Regulus. They rarely spoke about their early childhood before
boarding school.

“How?” Remus asks quietly.

Sirius sighs and rubs his forehead, looking down at the train tracks. There is grass now, fighting its
way through the gravel, and a sprinkle of dandelions shimmers golden in the dimming light around
them.

“We didn’t get beaten if that’s what you want to know,” he says. “Just… Not getting dinner that
day, or being locked up in our rooms, or, mother’s personal favourite, standing in the corner of the
room until she let us go. For hours.”

The expression on Remus’ face is that of shocked disbelief. He pulls out the lollipop and sets it
down on the dusty ground uncaringly before looking at Sirius again. “She did that to you? How
often?”

Sirius raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Well, we learned our lesson pretty quickly,” he says. “But,
yeah, I think the last time I was punished in a similar fashion was when I was fourteen, maybe
fifteen.”

Remus swallows audibly and frowns. “You never said anything like that,” he murmurs. “How
could she? She was your mother!”

Sirius smiles bitterly. “I stopped asking myself that question a long time ago.”

“It wasn’t just for crying, right?” Remus asks.

“No,” Sirius admits after a moment of hesitation. “Any… show of emotion. She caught Regulus
and me hugging once. We didn’t see each other for a month, I believe. He was six, I was eight.”

Remus closes his eyes and inhales shakily before opening them again and looking at Sirius with
such fierceness that he’s momentarily stunned by it. The whole day Remus has been sluggish,
almost lethargic, but now it seems like life has returned to his eyes again. He leans over and hugs
Sirius tightly.

“Are you sad?” he asks. “That she’s gone?”

Sirius bites his lip and is grateful that he doesn’t have to see Remus’ face when he says, “No.”

“Good,” Remus replies with an unexpected amount of animosity. “Me neither.”

“I was afraid you would think I’m a bad person because of it,” Sirius admits.
 Remus lets go of him then but only to swing his leg over Sirius’ and settle in his lap. With a soft
smile, he cups Sirius’ face with both hands and brings his face closer. “I don’t think a better person
than you exists,” he says and then kisses him.

Sirius closes his eyes and winds his arms around Remus’ waist, his heart almost feather-light in his
chest. He feels like floating away, with the weight of Remus in his lap, the warmth of his fingers
on his cheeks, the soft lips on his. And then he feels the rumble before he hears it – a train coming
closer from under the bridge. It honks, and the wind blows harshly against their sides as it rushes
past. Remus throws his head back and lifts his arms high above, leaning dangerously into the wind
current; his glasses reflect the sunset, and his curls are beating wildly around his face. Sirius grips
him firmer, afraid he might fall – a hand against his shoulder blades, another around his lower
back.

“You taste green!” Sirius yells over the deafening roar of the train and wind.

Remus arches his back further, his grin aimed at the red and orange sky above them, and laughs.
“You taste like the sea!” he yells back.

Sirius laughs as well, helplessly, because this is absurd, it doesn’t make any sense, it’s so random.
Because it’s such a Remus thing to say. And Sirius wishes to forever exist in this moment, with the
adrenaline pumping steadily through his blood, and the wind whistling in his ears, and Remus
putting all his trust in Sirius’ hands to hold him, and his taste on Sirius’ lips.

Because all he ever wanted was to find love. And he searched, and searched, and searched. But
maybe his goal was not to find love, maybe he needed to break the barriers inside that he built
against it first.

And then Remus fucking Lupin came and tore them to shreds.

HAPPILY EVER AFTER

Chapter End Notes

Verhaftet wegen sexy – the direct translation is ‘arrested for being sexy’ (with Remus
obviously alluding to Sirius saying ‘sue me’), but this is actually sort of a meme in
Germany. It’s a song by Olli Schulz and Berndt Begemann (a cultural reset of you
will).
Helen holding a paper cone on her first day of school is actually a German tradition
where children get a huge paper cone (like, the size of the child sometimes) filled with
sweets and stationery as a gift for starting school, it’s called Zuckertüte or Schultüte if
you want to google that.

Alright, my loves, this is the end! Can you believe this? Because I can’t… I am sad but
also incredibly grateful for all the support and lovely comments I’ve gotten since I
started posting this story. Thank you all so much for going on this journey with me.
Even though this was a Muggle AU, it was magical in its own way.
 I made you three promises at the beginning – that you would fall in love with Remus,
fall in love with Berlin and have the most fun you’ve had with a story in a while. Now
I would love to hear back from you, whether you’ve commented along the way or read
this story after it’s been posted completely – did I manage to hold my promises? What
are your thoughts on Berlin Angel as a whole and the last chapter specifically?

I wish you all a wonderful time! Stay safe, stay healthy and come visit Berlin
sometime :)
If you want to catch any bonus chapters, I suggest you don't unsubscribe from this
story!

I will see you, as per usual, in my next story (or on Tumblr)

End Notes

You can find the playlist of all the songs to this story on Spotify, compiled for us by
@losthelove

You can find the Berlin Angel map here if you want to take a virtual (or real) trip through
the places mentioned in this story!

If you liked this story, chances are you will like my other wolfstar stories as well:

The Lab - a long hurt/comfort Muggle AU story where Sirius is the new intern, Remus is a
grumpy PhD student, and they fall in love despite the challenges life throws at them

Evolution is spelt with an R - a long story about the First Wizarding War where Remus
never went to Hogwarts and meets Sirius after his graduation

I found you - a short-and-sweet Soulmate AU where the Bonded can feel each others pain

Everything is right - a short story of Sirius coming to terms with being on the asexuality
spectrum without knowing what it is and how to handle his attraction to Remus
Three Memories - the life story of Sirius and his love for Remus in retrospective

You can find me here if you want to say hi: de-sire-blog

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