#I woke up at 4am because my shoulders hurt from holding up jasmine. so I searched up sheer nightgown lingerie

[puppyeared]

🎁

[fvckyouimaprophet]

Another wolfstar prompt! Had I known I was going to have guests at 4am, I would've tidied up

Muggle AU. Remus owns a bookshop. Sirius likes to get book recommendations. One could say they’re friends—at least Remus hopes.

Remus first hears the knocking in his dream before it wakes him up. He rubs his eyes and looks over at the clock on his nightstand, trying to bring the numbers into focus.

3:47am.

He grabs a shirt and has it halfway on when he hears the rap at the door again. “Coming!” The haziness from his sleep envelops him as walks across the apartment to the front door, and he yawns. Still, he has enough sense around him to check the peephole before opening the door. “Sirius, what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s late,” he croaks. It doesn’t take long for Remus to notice the puffiness around Sirius’s eyes or smell the alcohol on his breath, and he steps to the side and motions in.

“Don’t worry about it.” He places a hand on Sirius’s shoulder and squeezes. “You know, had I known I was going to have guests at 4am, I would've tidied up.”

“I didn’t mean to barge in on you in the middle of the night. I’d just finished reading Giovanni’s Room, and I was so upset, and I went out to a pub, and it was close to here, and I don’t know. I didn’t really think.”

Remus blinks slowly, trying to piece together what Sirius is saying. He’s certain—at least he hopes—that there must be another reason that Sirius is here outside of his latest book recommendation, but if there is, it isn’t yet clear. “What did you think?”

“My heart hurts.” Sirius falls down onto Remus’s couch and puts his head in his hands. When his shoulders start shaking, Remus feels the knot in his stomach tighten.

“What’s wrong?” He sits down next to him, and when he places a hand on his back, rubbing circles across it, Sirius looks up at him, face red and splotchy and nose dripping.

“My brother died.”

Remus pulls Sirius against his chest, holding him tightly, his chin resting on top of Sirius’s head, and after a moment, Sirius’s fingers claw around his shirt in tight fists. They sit there like that for several minutes until Sirius’s shoulders stop shaking, and his breathing steadies. After a few minutes, Sirius sniffles and asks, “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course.”

“The door on the right?” he asks, pointing to the hallway.

Remus nods. “It’s that or my bedroom. You have a 50-50 chance of getting it right.”

As soon as the door closes behind Sirius, he gets up and walks over to the kitchen to set a kettle on the stove. Having something to do with his hands helps, and as he waits, he puts bread into the toaster and pulls out some bread and jam. The water boils just moments before Sirius steps back out. The hair just around his face is damp, but outside of the bags under his eyes, it’s as if the last fifteen minutes never happened.

“What tea did you want?” Remus asks.

“You didn’t need to do all this, especially when I barged in on you.”

Remus waves his hand dismissively. “It’s already done. I’ll have some toast for you too. It’s probably good for you to eat something.”

Sirius looks for a moment as if he’s going to protest but ultimate deflates and nods. “That’s awfully nice of you.”

Remus smiles and pours the water into two mugs before opening a cabinet door. “Second shelf. You can choose whichever tea you like. Just let me grab me a chamomile. And let me know if you need cream, sugar, or whatnot.”

Sirius settles on a jasmine green, and Remus sets both cups down on his table before stepping back to the kitchen to grab the toast. The silence hovers over them until Remus sits down and takes a sip of his tea.

“I spent so long being mad at him, and now he’s gone.” Remus’s eyes flicker to Sirius’s hand, where his knuckles are white from gripping the mug handle. “He just got with the wrong sort, and I always knew they were bad news, but—” Sirius cuts himself off and lifts the mug to his lips to drink despite the fact that his hand has begun to shake again.

“You couldn’t have known,” Remus says.

“I could have tried harder. He was just a kid. We were both kids, and I was so mad at him.” Sirius lowers his mug to the table and runs his hand through his hair and takes a steadying breath. “Fuck this shit. He was twenty-seven.”

Remus doesn’t know what to say. Any apologies seem insufficient. Instead, he places his hand on Sirius’s. “You’re right. Fuck this shit. He didn’t deserve that, and you have every right to be furious. I’m not going to pretend to imagine I know what you’re feeling. I know it’s not helpful for me to tell you not to beat yourself up or that this isn’t your fault. But you shouldn’t and it isn’t. I’m just sorry. It’s cruel and it’s so deeply unfair.”

Sirius says nothing for a moment, and Remus feels certain that he’s overstepped, but when Sirius’s eyes meet his, they’re filled with a new kind of warmth.

“There were so many people I thought about telling or going to, but I couldn’t face any of them because I knew they’d pity me, and I couldn’t fucking stand it. But you—you’re just genuinely kind. You barely know me, and I woke you up in the middle of the night, and you never even questioned it. Why?”

The question catches Remus off-guard. His heart beats loudly against his chest, and he isn’t sure what about this moment makes him so nervous, so he shrugs. “I consider us friends. Friendly at least.” He thinks for a moment and uses the opportunity to finish his tea before speaking, “You looked like you needed someone to listen. I’ll always listen to you if you me to, Sirius.” He lets go of Sirius’s hand. “I’m going to make myself another cup. You want any more, or are you good?”

He’s about to pass by Sirius when Sirius stands up, the force and suddenness of it knocking the chair out from behind him. And before Remus knows what’s happening, Sirius leans forward and kisses him.

He’s imagined a hundred times before what it would feel like for Sirius to kiss him. He’s wondered how he would taste, how heavy of a touch it would be, what he would say. He’s pictured it at his store, at a bar, at his flat even, but never like this. Remus’s eyes shut, and he almost loses his grip on his mug. Sirius is rough and tastes of alcohol, black tea, and raspberry jam. His hand presses against Remus’s side, and Remus can feel the floor drop from beneath him.

But it’s not right.

He pushes back gently, and a small “oh” leaves his lips as they pull apart. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Sirius steps back, his face red. “Of course. I’m sorry. That was really dumb. I shouldn’t have. I just thought you— Not that it matters.” With each word, the distance between them grows, and Remus shakes his head, trying desperately to stop it.

“It’s not like that. I want to. Trust me, I want to. But I can’t right now. It isn’t fair to you, and it’s not fair to me.”

Sirius pauses for a moment as tears begin to well up in his eyes. “You’re too nice.” He hiccups and reaches an arm up, wiping his eyes preemptively. “I should go.”

“Please don’t. Stay.” Sirius’s eyes dart around, frantic, but when Remus reaches out and cups his cheek, they meet. Sirius nods and melts against Remus’s touch. They stand like that, Remus’s breath caught in his throat, until Sirius straightens his back and steps back.

“Okay.”