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It’s not that Remus doesn’t trust his friends; that’s never been the case at all.
It’s more so the fact that he doesn’t have the ability to put his feelings into words sometimes. That doesn’t mean he isn’t happy, sharing laughs with James or cheeky grins with Peter. There’s a lot to be happy about, Remus has come to find out over the past few years of running amok with his gaggle of friends who are as equally as kind-hearted and passionate as he is.
A lack of happiness isn’t the problem, and again, nor is the ability to have full trust in his friends.
Now, Remus knows these aren’t the kind of people to judge, especially about something like this. He can tell them anything. He has told them everything. Or at least almost everything he could ever need to tell the people that are most important to him.
The real problem he faces is being able to pronounce his diabolical, criminal crush he has none other than Sirius Black.
If he’s been obvious about it in any sense, whether it’s stumbling over his words or going pink in the cheeks at the mere mention of Sirius’ name, nobody has mentioned it to him. He’s grateful for that, for the last thing he needs is to be turned down, although kindly, by Sirius right before they are supposed to spend the next few years at university together.
So, instead of making this a two-party issue, Remus is sitting on his crush, keeping it hidden under lock and key until one day it just magically fizzles out, and Sirius ultimately finds a partner that makes his head spin, and Remus will do the same. Just not with Sirius.
Remus has grown fine with that, he really has.
At least, he thinks he has until he sees the tinge of pink on Sirius’ cheeks when he’s been laughing too hard. Or, when that one tiny, stubborn curl hangs at the nape of Sirius’ neck when it won’t make it up into a haphazard bun. Or, the simple look of serenity washes over Sirius’ face when he angles his head up towards the night sky.
(Something about, I’m just trying to feel closer to the moon. And Remus does his best not to read into that.)
It all feels a bit trivial, though. It’s not like this is Remus’ first crush. He’s been on dates, he’s had little flings with a few people over the past few years, so what’s so important about this soul-consuming crush he has on Sirius?
Maybe, because against all odds, Sirius became his own person and learned to love and care and be there even at such a young age, even as a rambunctious, fierce, moody teenager. To be loved, in any capacity, by Sirius Black is to be kissed by God’s most favorite angel.
Trivial or not, there is no reasonable answer as to why Remus is lazily swaying back and forth on the porch swing on the Potter’s back patio, hand clutching a can of cherry vanilla Coca-Cola like his life depends on it. He’s pouting like some insolent child that’s just been reprimanded.
That no lacks a sense of certainty, especially when Remus himself is the one to know the exact reason as to why he’s pouting, eyes staring off into the horizon.
The sun has long dipped past the trees. Although, there is a slight deep orange and purple peeking over the tops of the trees. That’s where Remus’ focus remains, analyzing the color palette like his life depends on it. Anything, really, to prevent him from thinking about what just happened inside the Potter’s home.
He can’t be mad that it happened, no, not when his friends aren’t aware of his pitiful crush, but it happened, and Remus felt like a fish being gutted, right in front of a crowd.
There might have been a few drinks passed around because what group of rowdy teens doesn’t pass around a bottle every once and a while? Rosy cheeks and belting laughter filling everyone’s ears, only to erupt into cheers and encouragement when Sirius, of course, has the audacity to suggest they play a little game of spin the bottle.
Remus tried to be optimistic, but the pessimism that constantly coursed through his veins, he wasn’t too confident.
However, when it came Sirius’ time to spin, a rush of adrenaline surged straight to Remus’ heart. The bottle took far too long to stop spinning. Just a bit more… a little bit more… and…
James.
Okay, no sweat, or so Remus thought.
Next thing you know, Sirius and James were kissing. And Remus didn’t know what else to do besides feign needing to use the bathroom, only to sneak out and end up in the position he is in right now.
If only the bottle had spun a tiny bit more.
If only… if only… if only…
“Moony?”
Remus doesn’t have to turn to know who it is. He could respond, but he doesn’t do that either.
So, Sirius asks again, “Moony?”
Half-heartedly, Remus hums.
“You never came back.” The swing rocks as Sirius sits down next to the other boy.
Remus takes a sip of his drink, sweetness coating his tongue and throat. He swallows before he finally speaks, “I just wanted a bit of fresh air you know. It’s… peaceful out here.”
“It is,” Sirius agrees, and Remus can feel Sirius’ eyes on him. And he doesn’t want to blush because it doesn’t mean anything, but Remus doesn’t have control over that.
What is Remus supposed to say to that? He already feels obvious enough blushing, making a downright fool of himself. Instead of blubbering some kind of response, he just stays quiet, continuing to stare off at the treescape.
Sirius is silent for a moment, until he asks, “Did James and I kissing bother you?”
“Huh? What? No! I mean—no!” Remus immediately responds, turning to Sirius at lightning speed.
“Oh,” Sirius softens, blinks, and then adds, “Well, not bother you because it’s, like, two boys, but bother you because…”
“What are you—?” Remus blinks back at Sirius.
“I’m really sorry for doing it, or suggesting the game that is. I thought, I don’t know, I thought it would give me a chance. It almost did, you know? I was watching so closely, and I got my hopes up, and it just—I wanted to kiss you, and I thought just kissing James would be a little funny because everyone’s always complaining about how close we are, but—I hurt your feelings, or at least I hope I did because—wait! No, not that I wanted to hurt your—” Sirius rambles, and Remus stares in shock, heart beating right out of his chest.
“Sirius, hold on,” Remus interrupts, leaning to put the can down on the porch.
“Moons, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m not actually happy that I hurt your feelings. I’m just happy that,” Sirius lowers his voice, “that it might mean you feel the same way about me.”
“Sirius,” Remus breathes out like a whisper.
Sirius’ hand creeps across the swing, pinkies brushing against one another. It feels like the most intimate, romantic thing that has ever happened to Remus in his entire eighteen years of life.
“I’m really sorry for hurting your feelings. I never wanted anything like that. I wanted to—I wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn’t know if you’d feel the same, or maybe—”
A wave of courage washes over Remus.
“Can I kiss you?” Remus requests, hooking his pinky over Sirius’.
“—I’m just overthinking things—”
“Sirius—”
“—I’m really good at that, you know? You’re pretty good at it, too. Wait! No, that sounds like another mean thing to—”
“Padfoot—” Remus’ heart is about to explode right out of his chest.
“—say. It’s not a bad thing—”
Remus sighs, something a little dreamy, and places a grounding hand on Sirius’ cheek. “Love, can I kiss you?”
“—to s—oh, hi,” Sirius stumbles, almost immediately leaning into the gentle touch.
“Sirius, love, I don’t know if I can ask again after this. The confidence is kind of running out,” Remus chuckles softly, his cheeks going pink again. “Can I kiss you?”
“Moony,” Sirius sighs happily, with a little flutter of his lashes, and Remus does his best not to melt right on the spot. “Please?”
It feels like this coming of age, cinematic moment, even though they are of age now. Sirius’ lips are soft, just as Remus dreamed about for so long. He tastes like sweet wine and the beginning of summer.
“You’re all cherries and vanilla,” Sirius murmurs when the kiss is over. “Because you’re sweet.”
Even that makes Remus roll his eyes teasingly.
The simple care and comfort leave Remus a little dizzy, barely even remembering why he had been pouting in the first place. What was there to pout about now? He has Sirius right in front of him, a soft glowing light with the prettiest smile Remus is sure he’s ever seen. Without fail, his stomach starts doing somersaults. He can’t help it, and why would he want to?
“You sure are something, aren’t you?” Remus cocks his head to the side, doing his best to suppress a shy grin.
“Have you seen yourself?” Sirius turns the question right back.
“I’m just… me?” Remus admits, bashfully. “What’s so special about me? You’re you, Sirius. You and so—”
Sirius kisses him again. Just to shut him up.
“Moony, you’re so good at making observations,” Sirius swoons, all while Remus remains dazed from the second kiss. “I am me, and you are you! So smart!”
Remus rolls his eyes again, his cheeks going bright pink. “You know what I mean.”
Sirius giggles. “No I don’t, silly. Don’t go placing me on some kind of pedestal while you bury yourself beneath the dirt.”
“Sirius.” Remus feels little pinpricks in the corners of his eyes.
“Listen, Moons. I don’t know if you’ve caught on from all this, but I quite like you, and I’d like to be able to keep kissing you, if you’d be ever so inclined to do the same,” Sirius lays it all out, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Remus’ disheveled hair.
“I—I’d like that,” Remus confesses, dipping his gaze down shyly.
“Then, maybe,” Sirius says, tilting Remus’ chin back up, “we can give it a shot. I’ve got all the time in the world for you.”
“Me?” Remus chokes out.
“You, Moony. Just you,” Sirius agrees.
It’s so beautiful and pure. Remus’ heart feels like it might burst. They’re young, they’re wild, they’re free. And Remus feels the same, though. He has all the time in the world for Sirius. With all the confidence he can muster, he kisses Sirius again.
It’s all cherries, vanilla, and sweetness from here on out.