Author: Pixie-Rings
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Genre: humour, romance, hurt/comfort, Muggle AU
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Belongs to J.K Rowling. If I were she, I'd be rich, which is a reason not to sue me. I own nothing except the clothes on my back, the glasses on my face and the cats on my sofa. Actually, the sofa is my landlady's.
Word count:
Warning: none
Summary: Five weird, non-magical ways Remus and Sirius encountered each other that led to everything else.
A/n: Have no idea where this came from. Just little snippets of inspiration, I guess. And number four was longer than I expected.
1) IN THE PARK
"Oh my God, James."
Sirius grabbed James's elbow and pointed over to a bench. He looked so smitten it hurt. James squinted over and couldn't see what the fuss was about. The boy Sirius indicated dramatically was scrawny, plain and wore awful clothes. He had to admit he looked a lot nicer and cleverer than a few - most - all of Sirius's previous bed warmers, but honestly? Nothing special.
"I dunno, Sirius... Looks straight," He said nervously. Sirius grinned manically.
"My gaydar is pinging like mad!" He announced. And so, Sirius launched himself across the grass and stopped in front of the boy, clearing his throat. The boy looked up, shielding his eyes.
"Can I help you?" He asked. Sirius took that as an invitation to sit down and sprawled across the remaining part of bench, legs spread-eagled and arm stretched out along the back of the bench, behind the boy's shoulders.
"I think you can. How about telling me if you're free tonight?"
The boy blinked, then smiled condescendingly. "I don't even know your name," He said. Sirius held his hand out, still grinning, charm cranked up to eleven.
"Sirius Black."
The boy rolled his eyes and shook Sirius's hand.
"Remus Lupin," He replied.
"So, are you free?" Sirius asked again. The boy closed his book, took a pen from his breast pocket and grabbed Sirius's hand. He quickly scribbled down a number and stood, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. His smirk was diabolical.
"Why yes, I am, Mr. Black. Tell me where an hour before eight," He ordered. And with that, he strolled away. James appeared next to Sirius, who was drooling after the way Remus's hips swayed provocatively, and whistled.
"I never thought that would work," He admitted. Sirius, finally losing Remus in the crowd, stared at the phone number on his hand ecstatically.
"Neither did I..." He confessed in a dreamy voice.
2) IN A MUSIC SHOP
The longhaired young man was flicking through a box of records; Remus was carrying one in to heave onto the trestle table. The stranger glanced at him and raised an eyebrow.
"You work here?" He asked, incredulous. Remus scowled.
"Is that such a surprise?" He demanded waspishly. The customer, leather-clad, roguishly handsome and arrogant, tossed a look at the girl behind the counter (Nancy Spungen hairstyle, safety pins, earrings and bovver boots) and then back at Remus (argyle tank top, corduroy trousers, Doc Martens).
"Sort of," he replied. Remus gave him a disdainful look and stomped over to the counter to talk to Janice. She grinned.
"He fancies you," she said, welshly. Remus scoffed.
"As if." His disdain was blatantly obvious.
"That, and he were checking out your bum as you were coming over."
Remus raised a sceptical eyebrow, not really wanting to give in to the little ray of hope. The lad was very good-looking, if a tosser. After a little while longer, when Janice had gone out back for a cup of tea, the bloke strolled over, holding two records. One was some dissonant LP by some punk band who probably didn't know which way round the guitar went, the other was Will You Go On A Date With Me? by International Crisis.
"That'll be five pounds," Remus said tonelessly. The young man cleared his throat.
"What?" Remus asked. The lad held the second record up and grinned.
"How about it?" he enquired. Remus stared at it for a moment, then at the bloke, then frowned.
"You're not having me on, are you?"
"Why would I?" the bloke answered, cocking his head to one side with a raised eyebrow. Remus narrowed his eyes.
"I might not be gay – ever think of that?"
The bloke snorted. "If you weren't gay, you wouldn't be considering the matter."
Remus gave up trying to find a logic in that statement and shook his head.
"What's your name?" he asked instead. The bloke grinned.
"Sirius Black," Sirius Black replied.
"What a name," Remus remarked.
"Blame my parents. What's yours?"
"Remus Lupin," Remus answered. Sirius raised both eyebrows this time. Remus couldn't help noticing they were both perfect arches.
"No better than mine," he stated, smirking. Remus rolled his eyes.
"Alright, I suppose you want my phone number?"
"It would help, but I was just going to pick you up when your day finished."
Remus flushed. "I get off at five."
"Oh, you'll be getting off tonight, alright." Sirius waggled his eyebrows lewdly, then left with a wink, a click of his tongue and a shot with his finger. Janice poked her head out of the backroom.
"See, told you he fancied you!" she crowed in triumph.
"I suppose you were right…" Remus murmured, picking up the slip of paper with a phone number scrawled on it with a smile.
3) IN A CEMETERY
It was a lot quieter in the cemetery than outside on the busy streets. It was like walking into another world entirely. The rain offered soft background music as it whispered down, spattering Remus's tartan umbrella delicately. He knelt down and placed the iris on the headstone, straightening up with a smile.
"Sorry I haven't come to see you for a while, Mum," he murmured. "I've been busy."
He was about to explain exactly what he'd been doing when someone swore loudly and filthily, breaking the peaceful mood. Remus turned around and saw the back of a tall man with his fists clenched at his sides, his long black hair plastered to the back of his leather jacket. He was standing in front of an expensive statue of a rather beautiful male angel. The man called someone a useless idiot and kicked the plinth of the angel in anger. Then he sank to his knees and his shoulders started shaking. Remus stared at him, biting his lip, torn between comforting the man and respect for his mourning. In the end, his good character won out, and he walked over, the wet grass soaking the bottoms of his jeans. Once he was near the man, he held his umbrella over. The man looked up when he didn't feel the rain anymore, squinting at Remus.
"You'll catch a cold," Remus offered as an explanation with a small smile. The man's answering smile was bitter as he stood up, still under the shelter of Remus's brolly.
"I'm not fussed," he replied, "but thank you anyway." Remus studied the angel's plinth, reading the name Regulus Arcturus Black, the dates of 13th December 1960 - 1978 and the inscription, un aimé fils - toujours dans nôtres coeurs.
"I'm not even considered," the man spat suddenly, having followed Remus's gaze. "It's as if I was never born."
Remus looked at him, startled. "I'm sorry..."
The man snorted. "It's certainly not your fault." His voice stuttered somewhat. "They didn't even tell me he was dead."
Remus, not caring whether he was being invasive or not, reached out and placed a hand on the man's arm.
"Can I offer you something?" He asked politely. The man looked at him with curious grey eyes and finally smiled a genuine smile.
"Thank you." He fidgeted suddenly. "My name's Sirius Black," he muttered, as if it was an afterthought. Remus, holding the umbrella slightly higher so Sirius was comfortable beneath as they left, smiled.
"I'm Remus Lupin," he replied.
4) IN THE PARK (TAKE TWO)
Sometimes, Remus wished Padfoot wasn't such a bundle of energy. If he hadn't have been James and Lily's dog, he would never have taken him on, but he was the only thing his friends had left behind, and it was his duty to make sure he was well-kept and happy, and loved by Remus as much as he had been by Lily and James.
Trouble was, Padfoot was more than a handful: he was an armful.
He insisted on being walked in all weathers, and getting filthy when it rained. Chasing cats and children at football matches seemed to be his hobby. He thoroughly enjoyed rolling in shit, and eating it, and managing to find dead things in an apparently corpse-free zone that was Remus's tiny garden and burying them in the moth-eaten sofa. He also ate industrial quantities of Pedigree Chum and dry kibble, a fact Remus's student pocket couldn't exactly afford, and often stole whatever Remus left around (it had happened more than once that Remus, distracted by his textbook, had reached for his half-eaten sandwich and found an empty plate, devoid of crumbs, a Padfoot who was trying to look innocent and failing sitting in the corner, licking his chops). He'd vomited on the patchwork quilt Remus's grandmother had made him before she died. He'd chewed the table legs. He'd shredded the kitchen door that time Remus had shut him in there when his mother had come to visit. He'd ripped Remus's favourite beanbag apart, scattering the beans all over the floor (Remus was still finding them, even after the eighteenth hoovering).
Now he was galloping across the wide expanse of grass, tongue lolling out, looking as crazy and happy as he always was when let off the lead. Remus did have to admit, though, that Lily and James had done wonders with the lanky, abused puppy they'd found on the roadside. And, naughty though he was, he knew basic commands and obeyed them (most of the time), and was housebroken.
Suddenly, Padfoot stopped, nose pointed like a gundog's towards one of the benches, and took off, one where a young man with a leather jacket sat reading a magazine, with what looked like a wolf lying at his feet. This would only mean disaster. Padfoot had the social skills of a tank in Tiananmen Square.
"Padfoot! Padfoot, come!" Remus yelled, to no avail. As with most animals with one-track minds, Padfoot often suffered from selective deafness, and he blithely continued hurtling towards the bench.
Remus, with a sigh, broke into a run, hoping to catch Padfoot before he humped the wolf (Padfoot seemed to have no interest in bitches, which was a fact that James had always been terribly humiliated by), got into a fight with the wolf or tried to eat the young man.
To Remus's chagrin, before he managed to reach the huge black beast, Padfoot had arrived at destination and had begun nudging the wolf's muzzle, hopping around it with his usual maniacal grin plastered over his face. The wolf opened one eye, huffed, then went back to sleep.
Padfoot wasn't used to being ignored. He had just begun nipping at the other canine's ears, making small wuffing sounds and wagging his tail. The young man hadn't even looked up from his reading material.
The wolf, apparently finally annoyed with Padfoot's antics, stood, and Remus had never seen a dog that big before. It looked like a cross between a wolf and a horse. It looked at Padfoot, who, as usual, couldn't take a hint, for a moment, then pounced on him.
"Padfoot!" Remus cried, having finally reached the bench. At Remus's distressed call, the young man finally looked up and watched the dogs with a faint smile. The elephant-wolf was worrying Padfoot's neck in a rather embarrassing position, but Padfoot seemed to be enjoying it.
"Don't worry, mate," said the owner, winking, "Moony won't hurt him. He's big, but that's about it."
When Remus didn't seem convinced, the man sighed and shifted up, patting the bench beside him. "Watch for yourself," he insisted, grinning. Remus sat nervously, not only out of anxiety for Padfoot, but because Moony's owner was incredibly attractive, all long black hair and charming grin and waves of sex appeal.
"How old is he?" the man asked, having put his magazine down and begun to watch the dogs in earnest.
"My friends weren't really sure, about six months old, the vet reckoned."
"Ah, a stray," the man said knowingly. "Moony was too. Found him at the animal shelter. No one wanted him because he was too big and by the size of his paws, he was going to get even bigger. But he's a soppy old fairy, really." His tone was thick with affection as he observed Moony roll over and allow Padfoot to bounce all over him. Remus laughed.
"Padfoot has good intentions, it's just the execution that lacks in finesse," he observed. The man barked a laugh.
"Moony's lucky: he knows his own strength and exactly where to put his paws and not wag his tail so it knocks everything off the coffee table."
"How fortunate for you," Remus said dryly, "Padfoot seems to think the coffee table is only there for his cricket practice."
"By the way, my name's Sirius Black," said the man, holding a hand out. Remus shook it, liking the feel of it in his own.
"Remus Lupin," he replied. He eyed the dogs, which were tugging at a stick together.
"They like each other," he said, sounding slightly surprised. Sirius chuckled.
"Instant attraction, eh?" he remarked. "Rather like their owners."
Remus stared at him, mouth slightly agape, and Sirius's smirk was eloquent.
"Listen, do you want to go get a drink or something?" he asked suddenly. Remus blinked in surprise.
"But, what about..?" he waved at the dogs. Sirius grinned.
"Don't worry, I know a place where Moony's welcome." He stood and stretched, revealing a decent expanse of hard abdominal muscle, and Remus didn't think the other man missed his appreciative stare.
"Alright, then," Remus acquiesced, also standing up and calling Padfoot, who glared at him for interrupting his playtime, but sulkily stomped over and allowed his lead to be clipped on. Sirius had only to tap his thigh and Moony ambled over.
"So, where is this place?" Remus asked.
"Not too far over there… My mate Peter runs it, it does really good bacon sandwiches…"
5) ON THE BUS
He saw him every day on the bus. While Sirius would always have to stand and hold either the rail or the hand straps, the young man with the short brown hair would be sitting down, with his walkman (he still used CDs, how sweet) in his ears, just loud enough to be heard, reading a book Sirius had never heard of.
He wasn't handsome, he wasn't a sex god, but Sirius felt irrevocably attracted to him. Whenever he laid eyes on him, Sirius's heart would speed up a little and his brain would give way unbidden to fantasies that wondered– vividly – how the young man kissed, how his skin felt, how that slim chest and those long legs would feel against and around him. Or even how a simple conversation with him would be.
After a while, he decided to keep a mental list of those books and look them up. The young man must have been a fast reader because the books changed often.
After Sirius had about five books on his list, he Googled them. With a gleeful whoop his flatmate James couldn't understand the reason for, he found that all but one had a prominent gay theme. This was excellent news, obviously, and he told James so.
"Only you could infatuated by someone on the bus," said James, but his exasperation was affectionate. Sirius had scowled in reply, and wondered whether the man had a Facebook page, but without a name, it was impossible to find him.
On Monday, Sirius finally plucked up the courage to get off at the same stop as the brown-haired man. He did worry for a while that it would amount to being a creepy stalker like on American television, but he decided this was the only way. It was a very Sirius thought, of course, and James would say so, so he refrained from mentioning anything to his friend.
When the man got off, at Soho, Sirius surreptitiously followed, watching the man (or, rather, the way his arse moved in those corduroy trousers – delectable wasn't enough) while trying to pretend he wasn't highly suspicious (which made him, being Sirius, even more suspicious).
The boy entered a bookshop, said hello to the old man behind the counter and entered the backroom.
Sirius walked in and smiled nervously at the man behind the counter. He was tiny, with brilliant white hair. He smiled graciously at Sirius, who felt suddenly disgusted with himself.
"May I help you, young man?" he asked in a squeak. Sirius shook his head.
"No, I'm just looking, thank you…"
So he did. He perused the shelves, full of what were mostly second-hand books, and was fascinated. There was a huge and varied selection. He managed to find some interesting things around the door to the backroom, enough to justify his hanging around there. He pretended to read the blurb of a book by an Indian author as he tried to listen. He didn't even know why.
"So, what news from the bloke on the bus?" said a female voice. The man on the bus groaned.
"Lily, come on…"
"Oh, tell me, go on!" the girl urged. The man on the bus sighed.
"Alright… there's nothing new to tell."
"Oh, Remus…"
So, that was the man's name, eh? Remus… how unusual. Although he couldn't talk, being Sirius.
"No 'oh, Remus', there is honestly nothing to say," replied the man. There was the sound of a cupboard creaking open and closing again.
"You tell me he stared all the while you're on the bus. Why don't you say something to him?"
Sirius stiffened. They were discussing him, they had to be.
"Oh, don't be stupid, Lily. What can I say to him? 'Oh, hi, I noticed that you seem to be staring at me, want a coffee?'"
"Ha ha ha," Lily said sarcastically. "No, seriously, why not? You said he was good-looking."
"Good-looking is an understatement."
"Well then?"
"I don't know if he's gay or not." That sounded horribly like an excuse.
"If he's staring at you he must fancy you in some way," Lily reasoned. "Stop making excuses, Remus. Live your life for once."
Remus made a non-committal noise and suddenly the door to the backroom opened.
Remus stared at Sirius. Sirius stared right back, his face aflame and his mouth open in shock.
"Er…"
Remus swallowed and the most adorable (yes, it was adorable, there was no other adjective for it, except maybe endearing, or delightful) pink flush edged its way up his face. He cleared his throat and walked past Sirius into the shop.
Lily left the backroom first, looked at Sirius, then at Remus, and rolled her eyes.
"That's him, isn't it?"
"Oh, the boy Remus has been talking about?" said the squeaky old man inquisitively. Sirius thought his face was about to burn off his skull. He hadn't blushed like this since he was about eleven. Lily smirked.
"He fancies you, you know."
Remus, from where he was valiantly pretending to reorganise some shelves, groaned. Sirius coughed slightly and nodded.
"And you fancy him too, don't you?" she went on, her smile practically diabolical. Sirius coughed again, although it came out as more of a choked squeak.
"Lily…" Remus moaned. Lily snorted.
"If I don't do something about it, nothing's going to happen," she said haughtily.
"Yes, but…"
"Do you want Remus's number?" she asked, ignoring Remus's indignant noise, whipping her phone out and flipping it open. Sirius gaped for a moment, before nodding eagerly.
"Excellent, now –"
"Enough, Lily!" Remus snapped, grabbing her phone from her and stuffing it in his pocket.
"Alright," she grumbled, stomping to the counter to glare at him. Remus turned to Sirius with an apologetic look on his face.
"Sorry about that," he said with enough embarrassment to make Sirius cringe.
"No, it doesn't matter," said Sirius quickly. "Er, could I actually have… only if you want to, of course…"
"You really want my number?" Remus asked, sounding shocked. Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, fiddling with the bob tying his hair back in a ponytail.
"I wouldn't have asked, otherwise," he muttered. Remus smiled. It was the first smile he'd ever seen on Remus's ('Remus'… it was so strange to think of him in terms that weren't 'boy from the bus') face. It was beautiful, and that was the first time Sirius had ever used that word about a man.
"Ok, it's…"
Ten minutes later, Sirius walked out of the shop with a book and Remus's number safely stored in his phone. He couldn't help it. He leapt up with a punch to the air and a whoop. It was a mark of the neighbourhood that no one batted an eyelid. He couldn't wait to tell James about this.