Chapter Text
“Could I get a name for the order?” Marlene asked.
“Serious,” the man replied. “Like the star,” he clarified, and Remus mentally scratched out Serious and rewrote Sirius in his head.
“The… star?” Marlene asked, her pen hovering over the cup as she hesitated.
“S-I-R-I-U-S,” Remus said. He stocked croissants into the display case, not looking up. “The Dog Star,” he added, “brightest star in the sky, actually. Visible from both hemispheres.” When he looked over, the man– Sirius– seemed surprised, his eyebrows raised as Remus spoke, and when Remus finished, he blinked a few times before smiling lopsidedly.
“Er– yeah,” he breathed a laugh. “That.” There was a baby on his hip. Somehow, it had taken Remus a second glance to notice that. It was a very cute baby, warm brown skin and green eyes and thick hair that stuck out in every direction, and it did that thing that babies do when they just stare at you. And then the baby stuck its tongue out, just very slightly, and Remus pursed his lips to avoid smiling like an idiot.
“Nerd,” Marlene whispered to Remus instead of what she clearly meant to say, which was thank you, and she grinned cheerily at Sirius. “That’ll be right out.” Sirius nodded, rather cordially, and when he did, the baby’s head bowed slightly as well, and Remus stifled a laugh, turning back to the display case. He heard some coins plink into the tip jar and a rustle of a bill, and he resisted the urge to immediately check and see what was left.
Sirius walked to the end of the counter, rocking back and forth slowly and bouncing the baby on his hip. He seemed young to be a father, but he had all of the exhaustion in his eyes as a new dad– the baby bore very little resemblance to Sirius whatsoever, though, which threw Remus off. He tried to make a story for him in his head. It was one of his favorite hobbies, here. The little old lady with secretly a russian assassin, the businessman in the sleek jacket wore mismatched socks as a tiny act of rebellion against his strict boss (definitely not because he picked up the wrong right and left), and the two girls who came in and ordered the largest size possible of their sweetest coffee were about to go take the worst test of their lives and didn’t even know it.
Sirius had all of the style of a 90’s grunge band, contrasted heavily by the blue and white onesie the baby was wearing, as well as the gray diaper bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was long and black and messily pushed back out of his face, and he had piercings and hints of tattoos peeking above his shirt and paint stains on his pants, but the baby was clean and bubbly and laughing. They made an interesting pair, Remus thought.
Inventing a story for him would be difficult.
Sirius’ order, however, was not very difficult– which was lucky, because as it would turn out, Remus would make it almost every day thereafter.
***
“Medium, extra-shot, vanilla oat milk latte, for Sirius.”
Remus set the drink up onto the glass display case at the end of the serving line. He didn’t even have to look at the receipt to remember the name on the drink– Sirius ordered it every day at the same time without fail. He came in at 7 every morning, baby on hip or in stroller or once in a little chest carrier, and by now, Remus only had to look up at the sound of the bell and make eye contact before nodding and typing Sirius’ drink into the cash register. He didn’t even have to hear the order to know what buttons to press.
And then Sirius would flash him that lopsided smile and put thirty dollars on the counter. Three tens.
One of the bills was to pay for his own order (which was only $3.50); the second was to pay for the person who came in after him (which was usually also only $3.50); the third was for the tip jar.
Sirius was a generous tipper. It made Remus wonder exactly what he did for a living that he could afford to throw thirty dollars on the counter every single morning. He didn’t really look the part– in the least judgemental way, of course– but typically Remus pictured rich boys the same way: designer suit, expensive watch, and leather shoes. Sirius would stick out like a sore thumb among that type. He never changed much from his usual formula of outfit– dark jeans, scuffed leather boots, band t-shirts with holes in them. Some days, Sirius wore shirts with the sleeves messily chopped off, and he had tattoos that were written in languages Remus didn’t know and geometric shapes and crosses, and Remus wanted to know what they meant, though he’d never have the courage to ask.
And yet still, every morning, without fail, he placed thirty dollars on the cafe counter, hoisted the baby a little higher on his hip, and walked to wait for his drink.
Remus would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous. Nearly every single problem in his life could be solved with a little more cash. But the tips padded his pocket with a bit more grocery-money, and he was grateful for that.
Sirius picked up the drink and smiled at Remus, nodding the same way he did every day. Remus issued his usual smile and have a nice day , and Sirius returned with his usual t hanks, you too.
Remus didn’t know Sirius. He wanted to, he thought. He wanted to know why he didn’t order a black coffee, because he seemed the type to. He wanted to know where he worked, how he could afford to budget this much for coffee, what his apartment looked like. He wanted to know the name of the baby, because Christ , that was a cute baby. The bell rang softly as Sirius walked out the door, and Remus watched him leave.
“Hey, Remus?” His thoughts were interrupted. Marlene was poking her head out of the back storeroom.
“Yeah?”
“Can you work the six-to-nine tonight? Evan called in sick. I’ll pay you overtime?” Remus mentally went over his schedule. His shift at the bistro down the street ended at 5:45, which meant that he wouldn’t have any time to eat dinner. Then again, another shift meant more savings, and at least Marlene let him sit down to take orders. He’d probably over-do it, but he’d worry about that when he got there, he supposed. He shrugged.
“Yeah, I think so. Sure.”
“Sweet. You’re the best,” Marlene said, smiling. The sound of the bell brought Remus’s attention back. People were walking through the door to get their morning coffees before they went off to work. The morning rush was awful, full of antsy office workers and late-for-school teenagers, but it was also when Remus brought in the most tips, so he really didn’t mind.
Marlene grabbed her apron off of the wall and tied it around her waist. The two of them worked well together during the rush– Remus called out the orders and got people moving through the line, and Marlene made the drinks. Sirius was smart, getting his drink before the rush came in. Remus watched his tenner sit at the bottom of the tip jar as the day drew on.
***
“Medium, extra-shot,” Remus yawned in the middle of his sentence, awkwardly putting his hand over his mouth, “vanilla oat milk latte, for Sirius.”
“Late night?” Sirius asked as he took his drink off of the counter. Remus was startled. The only thing he ever heard Sirius say was Thanks, you too, Thanks, you too, Thanks, you too. It took him a moment to realize that Sirius had asked a question.
“Uh– yeah,” he said, and then shook himself. He smiled. “Rough shift, you know?”
Saturday nights, Remus worked tables from seven to twelve at the Crown Bistro, from right after the dinner rush until the restaurant closed. Usually it was middle-aged couples out on a “date-night,” or CEOs at a business dinner, or some other combination of people who all had more money than Remus. It was a good shift to have as far as pay was concerned, but it made Sunday mornings hell, and he was running on far too little sleep. He always knew exactly what to expect, pushing himself like that, and yet every Sunday he woke up miserable and achy and off balance. On good days, he’d need his crutch to get to work. On bad days…
Well, in any case, Sirius came in a little later on weekends, often lugging along a stroller or a diaper bag or a backpack that indicated he was going somewhere . Remus wondered what he did with his spare time. He wondered what he did with his regular time, too.
“I get it,” Sirius said, smiling. He raised his drink to Remus as though he was toasting him.
“Have a nice day,” Remus said.
“Thanks. You too, Remus.” Remus blushed at the sound of his name coming from Sirius’s mouth, and he was this close to asking how Sirius knew his name before remembering he wore a name tag. Sirius laughed a little at the look on his face before he turned to leave. The baby, in the stroller this time, made a delightfully bubbly noise that was absolute nonsense, and Sirius raised his eyebrows, nodding along dramatically. “I know, right?” he said, speaking like the baby was a tiny adult. The baby gurgled as they walked to the door. “Spot on as always, Harry.”
Harry, Remus repeated in his head. It felt like a success, for some reason, getting to learn the baby’s name. After all, he was just as much a regular as Sirius. Sirius looked back at him before he left, and Remus felt his stomach flutter.
***
Remus looked up to the sound of the bell, watching Sirius walk in through the door. He nodded and began pushing buttons on the register, but Sirius stopped him.
“Actually, today we’re gonna mix it up a little,” he said. Remus looked up and raised his eyebrows. Sirius had ordered the exact same drink every day for three weeks. “What’s the most caffeinated thing you sell?” Remus laughed and looked behind him at the menu.
“Um,” he sighed, taking in the list of drinks. “Probably a dark roast?”
“I’ll take a large one of those.”
“Do you want me to put any flavor in it? Vanilla?” Remus asked. By now, he knew that Sirius liked his drinks sweet.
“Caramel?” We really are mixing it up, Remus thought.
“You got it.” Sirius laid down his thirty dollars and sighed.
“Why the sudden change?” Remus asked as he put the money into the register and started making Sirius’s drink. Sirius rubbed his eyes, and when he did, Harry started fussing on his hip, bending his arms and pushing against Sirius’ chest awkwardly.
“Harry’s teething,” Sirius said miserably. “And I didn’t sleep, and now I’ve got to work, and–” Remus nodded, attempting to hide a smile as Harry grabbed onto Sirius’ hair with an iron grip. Sirius winced, trying to pull his hair back, but Harry made a very loud noise like a bird cawing. “Ow, christ, Harry, would you– ow!” Sirius held Harry out at arm’s length, but Harry flailed his arms around and kept yanking.
“The joys of fatherhood?” Remus asked, but Sirius got a very sad sort of sour look on his face when he said it, and Remus regretted opening his mouth. It was presumptuous, he supposed, but he never saw Sirius without Harry, so he just assumed…
“Something like that,” Sirius mumbled. “Sorry, can I just…?” He gestured vaguely to put Harry down on the counter for a moment, and Remus nodded as he started pouring dark coffee into the biggest cup they had.
“Sure, sure,” he replied. Sirius set Harry down, prying his fist open to retrieve his hair. He rummaged around in his pocket and produced a black hair tie, scooping his hair back into a messy attempt at a bun at the back of his head. Pieces fell out and clumped up awkwardly, and Remus didn’t have the heart to tell him he missed a chunk at the back.
“Thanks,” Sirius sighed, picking Harry up again and setting him against his hip, keeping his head a little further from the baby now.
“Where do you work?” Remus asked, attempting to salvage whatever smalltalk they’d been making before Remus implied Sirius was a dad. Sirius followed Remus down the counter as he finished pumping caramel syrup into the drink, sliding on the heat guard.
“Hm? Oh. I– well, I guess I kind of work for myself,” Sirius shrugged. “I fix up old cars and motorcycles.” Of course you do, Remus thought to himself. “How about you?” Sirius asked, and Remus paused and looked at him.
“Where… where do I work?” Sirius closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Right. Of course. You work here. Currently. Sorry.” Remus laughed and put the lid onto the cup, handing it to Sirius over the counter. “Thanks,” Sirius said, and Remus noticed that he was blushing. It was unfortunate for Sirius how obviously the pink flush stood out against his pale skin.
“Well, good luck with the teething,” Remus said, smiling.
“Thanks.” He sipped the coffee and made a sour face. He shook his head, took another sip, and then raised the cup to Remus, toasting him. “Have a nice day, Remus.”
“You too, Sirius.”
Sirius blushed a little more, and Remus tried to convince himself that it was just because he was embarrassed, and not because Remus had simply said his name.
Sirius walked out through the door, ducking his head out of the way as Harry made another grab for his ear this time. Remus watched him leave. He was slowly but surely putting together a puzzle in the shape of Sirius. Of all of their regulars, he was certainly the most interesting, Remus thought. He’d gotten to a point when he almost felt guilty missing work on days he had to stay home– guiltier than he usually did– because he wouldn’t be there to serve Sirius his usual latte.
And he wondered, perhaps in a rather self centered, egotistical way, if Sirius missed him on those days. If maybe Sirius looked forward to seeing him as well. If maybe Sirius thought about Remus when he left the café, too.
***
Remus sat at the table in the corner of the café, sipping on the tea that Marlene had let him have for free. It was almost 7, almost time for Sirius to come in and buy his usual. It felt strange to be sitting anywhere else but behind the register, but Marlene had accidentally double-booked the shift when Evan requested overtime, and so Evan was standing behind the register this time instead of Remus. Marlene said she would still pay him for the shift if he helped clean up, so he wasn’t mad, but it felt unusual to have free time.
The bell rang, and Sirius walked in. He looked to the register and smiled at Evan politely, but his expression lacked the usual enthusiasm that Remus received. But then Sirius caught sight of Remus out of the corner of his eye, and his face brightened, and Remus couldn’t help but feel proud of that in some strange way.
“Morning,” Evan said, a perfect barista smile on his face. “The usual?” Sirius pulled his attention away from Remus like it took physical effort.
“Yeah,” he nodded, “thanks.” Evan started punching numbers into the register, and Sirius paid his usual exorbitant amount and made his way over to the end of the counter. When he had the coffee safely in his possession, he walked over to Remus’ table. “Mind if I join you?” Remus blinked at him for a moment. Harry reached a hand down, his fingers opening and closing in a grabbing motion.
“Sure,” Remus managed, taking a sip of his tea in an attempt to act casual, but this was closer than he and Sirius had ever been before. Somehow, without the counter between them, Sirius felt much more real and Remus felt much less confident. Sirius sat down across from Remus, plopping Harry onto his lap, where the baby grabbed a fistful of Sirius shirt and yanked on it. Remus saw black ink peeking out over the center of his chest and under his collarbone.
“Harry, ease up,” Sirius muttered, prying his fingers free. Harry refocused his efforts on trying to grab the sugar packets from the table. Sirius sighed, taking a sip of his coffee.
“How’s the teething?” Remus asked, smiling at Harry as he slapped his hand against the table.
“There sure are teeth,” Sirius said exhaustedly, and Remus laughed. “Why aren’t you working right now?”
“Scheduling thing. Marlene accidentally double-booked the shift between her and Evan, so she’s letting me have a break.” Sirius nodded.
“Nice.” They both sipped their drinks. Remus moved the sugar holder slightly further away from Harry, which earned him an incredible glare from someone so small.
“Nowhere to be?” He asked, and then realized how rude it sounded. “Not that I’m bothered by the company, of course–“ Sirius smiled.
“I’m taking Harry to my brother’s later today, but that’s around noon, so we’ve got some time to kill.”
“Then why are you getting coffee so early?”
“Gotta have a routine,” Sirius shrugged. “And this little monster makes it hard to sleep in.” Harry slammed his hand down on the table again.
“Okay, valid,” Remus said. Sirius ran a hand through his hair. Remus watched as his fingers slid easily through his black waves, and Remus found himself wondering if it was as soft as it looked. He smothered the thought with a large gulp of tea. They kept making small talk– or rather, Sirius kept making small talk, because Remus, as it turned out, was painfully awkward when confronted with the very thing he’d been aching for. They chatted easily about the weather, about the traffic downtown, about how annoying the road work was getting. Sirius was frustrated with how much longer it took to drive to the park, so recently he’d elected to start walking.
After about a half hour, Marlene leaned over the counter, waving a hand to get Remus’ attention.
“Sorry, Moony,” she said, “but could I get you to help me with the ovens for a sec?”
“Sure,” Remus smiled, and she nodded gratefully.
“Moony?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow, and Remus laughed.
“Long story,” he shrugged. “Maybe you’ll hear it someday.” Sirius blushed at that, and Remus bit his cheek to avoid smiling dopily. He reached down beside his chair to pick up the crutch he’d laid there when he sat down, and when he slid his arm into the brace at the top, he looked up to find Sirius staring at it. Something tight knotted itself in Remus’ stomach, and he found himself staring right back until Sirius finally looked up at him and realized.
“Sorry,” he blurted out awkwardly, shaking himself slightly. “I– have you always had that?” Remus blinked at him, searching for a response, but something inside him felt a little bitter, now.
“Well, I guess some days I don’t–”
“Wait,” Sirius interrupted, shaking his head and wiping his hand across his face, the blush from before becoming a bit more a furious red that tinted his ears as well. “Wait. Sorry. Oh my god, that was so rude.”
“It’s fine–” It wasn’t fine, but Sirius at least seemed to recognize that.
“No, no, I swear I have manners, christ,” he said, flustered. “I just didn’t notice before, which– you know, I feel like I should have, considering how much I look at you–” Remus’ eyebrows crept up his forehead as Sirius spoke. “Not that–! Not that I’m looking at you, like looking looking– well–” he was stepping on his own toes, backtracking and explaining and putting his foot in his mouth all at once. It was frankly a little amusing seeing him so thrown. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
Remus bit the inside of his cheek, silently rising out of the chair. He leaned his weight against the crutch, and he found himself resenting it just slightly, the same way he did whenever someone stared for just a little too long. Sirius looked back down at the crutch again, and Remus bristled for a moment before he leaned in and narrowed his eyes.
“What’s the sticker say?” he asked, and Remus held back a smile.
“Uh…” he felt himself flush a little. “It says–” he cleared his throat. “It says my illness is chronic but this ass is iconic.” Sirius snorted loudly and then clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Sorry. Sorry, that’s–” Sirius pursed his lips, waving a hand.
“Marlene got it for me,” Remus said by way of explanation. “This one says out of order,” he turned his arm slightly so the back of the arm brace was visible, and there was a sticker with a little picture of a skull on it with a sign in front of it that held the text.
“Incredible,” Sirius laughed, and Remus couldn’t help but smile a little. He supposed he could forgive Sirius a little– he really didn’t use the crutch much at work since it was easier to balance on the countertops when he needed to, and Sirius only saw him for maybe ten minutes out of the day max. And he didn’t even use it every day.
“Duty calls,” Remus sighed, pushing in his chair and picking up the tea from the table.
“Right,” Sirius nodded. “Of course.” Remus paused and turned back.
“Thanks for staying to talk,” he said. Sirius toasted him, smiling apologetically.
“Of course. Have a nice day, Remus,” he replied.
“You too. Bye Harry,” Remus added. Harry stuck his tongue out.
***
The bistro was, accurate to its name, a beast. Dinner rush lasted hours, and the people who dined there were always the most impatient people. Everything had to be perfect for them, or the whole meal was a waste. Remus was able to avoid the brunt of it, standing at the front as the host, but he overheard an awful lot. It was a Friday night, always the most hectic, and Remus found himself faced with the ever impossible task of seating six person parties with no reservation at any of their already full tables.
A dinner here would cost his rent. Every time he saw a designer suit or a thousand dollar watch or a diamond necklace, he couldn’t help but think about his meager savings. He didn’t even like steak, but man would it be nice to put it on a card without even worrying about overdraft fees. Remus heard the door open.
“Good evening, welcome to Crown Bistro–“ he looked up and cut himself off.
Sirius.
He was making eye contact with Sirius. He was making eye contact with Sirius, and Sirius was standing there in a suit , a far cry from anything Remus had ever seen him in, black jacket and white shirt unbuttoned just enough that Remus could see the tattoo between his collarbones, and his hair was shining and sleek, and Remus was standing there like an idiot, frozen. Say something! “H- how many?” he managed, and then blushed.
“Remus!” Sirius exclaimed, his face halfway between shock and delight. “I, er… didn’t know you worked here.”
“Yeah,” Remus stammered, and then they just sort of watched each other silently for far too long, an immensely awkward silence stretching between them, before the woman at Sirius’ arm cleared her throat. And it was only when she did so that Remus (guiltily) noticed that she was there at all.
“We’ve got a reservation for two, at seven,” she said politely, elbowing Sirius in the side just slightly, and he shook himself. Numbly, Remus looked down at the screen in front of him.
“Name?” he asked tensely. The woman nodded toward Sirius, and Sirius found his words finally.
“Black,” he answered, and Remus turned the name over and over in his head; Sirius Black.
“Ah, yep, I see,” Remus noted, marking the table that was reserved for them. He cleared his throat, attempting to shake off the shock of seeing Sirius anywhere but the coffee shop, and in anything except for jeans and t-shirts, and with anyone but tiny baby Harry on his hip, which also made him wonder, where was Harry?
And then he scolded himself, because why on earth would Sirius bring a baby to a bistro– which brought to mind the thought of Harry wearing a tiny baby suit and tie, which made him just distracted enough to bang his hip against the corner of a table, and then he was suddenly immensely self-conscious about the way he walked, because he realized Sirius and the woman were walking behind him, and his left leg always managed to throw him off balance when he wasn’t paying attention, and even more so when he elected to go without his crutch, and so now he was walking very manually in such a way that would probably have made his physical therapist very proud–
“Here we are,” Remus said, gesturing to the table. It was a little square one off to the side, thankfully quite far from the host stand, so Remus wouldn’t have to sit there sneaking glances at the two of them sitting there, wondering who that woman was and if they were together and if this was Harry’s mother, or if they were on a date, or if they were– “A server will be right with you,” Remus added, cutting his own thoughts short, because jesus christ, why was he suddenly so on edge?
“Thanks,” the woman said brightly, and Remus smiled very tensely at her before nodding his head and walking back to the front of the restaurant without looking back at Sirius. Because oh my god, he recognized this feeling so distinctly, and oh my god, why was he jealous? It burned in his chest and made his throat sharp, and it was ridiculous and irrational and completely not his place to feel like this. Sirius was a stranger. He was allowed to go on a date with a woman at a fancy restaurant that Remus could never afford to eat at. He was allowed to do whatever the hell he wanted with whoever the hell he wanted.
Ugh. Get a hold of yourself, he thought. His shift was four more hours. He would spend the entirety of it trying not to think of Sirius and failing miserably, even after he and the mystery woman left the restaurant, or maybe especially because he and the mystery woman left the restaurant, or maybe very especially because she clung to his arm and glanced at Remus and then giggled as they walked through the door.
***
“Medium, extra-shot, vanilla oat milk latte, for Sirius.”
“Will you go to dinner with me?”
“Have a nice– what?” Sirius took the drink from Remus’s hand, but Remus remained frozen in place, his fingers wrapped around the ghost of a cup.
“Will you go to dinner with me? Tonight. Maybe. If you’re free.” Remus stared at Sirius, saying nothing. Dinner? Like, a date? Like, a real date? With Sirius? Harry flailed his arms and slapped Sirius directly in the face, and Sirius winced, nudging his little hand away very gently. He couldn’t be serious, could he? ( Hah. Serious. Sirius. Oh my god shut up.) Remus shook himself mentally. He blinked, and Sirius was still standing there, waiting very patiently for an answer, his ears just slightly pink.
“Dinner,” Remus choked out, finally lowering his hand. He rested it against the counter.
“Yes,” Sirius nodded. “Dinner. If you want. And you can say no, of course, I won’t mind, really, but you’re– well, you know, I– I think we’d get along quite well, honestly, and– er– I think Harry likes you as well…” he trailed off, and Remus closed his mouth when he realized it had been hanging open that whole time. He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” Sirius said, and Remus’ mind continued to spin in useless circles.
And here’s what was funny about that; Remus had fully intended to be very cool when Sirius came in that morning. He had been awkward enough when Sirius had shown up at the Crown Bistro that Remus had thought about it for the next several hours, when he surely should have been sleeping, and so he’d made a plan, because he figured he might as well while he was up.
The plan was this: Remus would certainly, definitely, positively not care whatsoever that Sirius, who he had no right to be jealous over in any way, had come to a fancy restaurant in a fancy suit with a fancy woman at his arm (who Remus was sure was a very lovely woman, nothing against her at all, really), and he would be categorically normal. So normal. Cool, even. Yes, he would be cool. Very cool, and very normal. So that was step one. And then step two was to show Sirius that he was all business, and so it would be medium, extra-shot, vanilla oat milk latte, for Sirius, and have a nice day, and that would be that.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Sirius continued. “I’d just like to get to know you better. Outside of coffee orders.”
“Sure,” Remus breathed.
“Sure, as in, you get it? Or sure, as in…”
“Dinner,” Remus repeated, and it was like someone else was speaking for him; someone much more confident, apparently. “Uh– sure, as in– yeah. Dinner. Dinner sounds good.” Sirius grinned so wide Remus thought his face might crack open. He cleared his throat, clearly trying to neutralize his expression with little success. Remus felt like he was melting and freezing at the same time. “I, uh… I get off at four,” Remus said quietly. He could feel that his face was bright red, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t expected this. Not at all, not even in his wildest dreams, because oh my god, this must be a dream.
“Do you want me to pick you up?” Sirius asked. Remus didn’t know. He couldn’t think straight. There was something fluttering in his chest. He’d had a feeling today, and he wondered now if this was why.
“Um. No. I… I would have to go home first. To change and all that.” Sirius nodded. “Where…?”
“I was thinking the Italian place on the corner of Broad and Seventh?” Remus nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” he said, mentally shaking himself. “Yeah, that sounds good.” What the fuck!
“How’s six o’clock sound?” The realization hit Remus that he was going on a date. A date. And not just a date, but a date with Sirius. The fluttering turned into something much warmer. He smiled.
“Sounds perfect.”
Sirius smiled, too. He took a pen from the side of the counter and wrote his number on the receipt for his coffee, handing it to Remus with a smirk that made Remus’ stomach flip.
“Perfect. See you then, Remus.”
“Have a nice day?”
“You too.” The bell rang to signal Sirius’s exit, and Remus nearly collapsed right there. Marlene cleared her throat from behind him, making him jump. Remus wheeled on her, trying to think of something to say, anything. Anything. Oh my god. What the fuck!
“Oh my god,” Remus said.
“That was interesting,” Marlene said.
“What do I do?” Remus’s voice cracked. Marlene looked confused.
“What?”
“Oh my god , Marlene, what do I do?”
“Go on the date?”
“What, to the Italian place? I can’t pay for that right now, I just paid rent!” He could feel his breaths getting shorter.
“Moony, I’m pretty sure that Sirius can pay for dinner–“
“And what do I wear? I don’t have anything fancy. I don’t even have a nice jacket! And he’s– oh my god Marlene, he’s hot.”
“Well, yeah.“
“He’s hot Marlene, and I’ve never even had a boyfriend before!”
“Wait, really?”
“Oh, my god.” Remus felt like his entire body was going numb. Sirius had asked him out. Hot, funny, rich (?) Sirius had asked him out, and Remus had said yes. What was he thinking?
“Remus. Breathe.” Remus let out a shaky breath, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. “It’s okay. Go on the date. Have a good time. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out.”
“And then I have to see him every day for the rest of my life–“
“ Not the rest of your life. It’ll be fine. You have my number in case something goes wrong. Just call me, and I’ll pick you up.” He felt Marlene wrap his fingers around his wrists, pulling his hands away from his eyes.
“Really?”
“Really.” He let out another breath.
“What do I wear?”
“Do you own a collared shirt?”
“Yeah…”
“Wear that. Roll the sleeves up a little, like… three fourths of the way. And not jeans. Pants. Those pants, even.” Remus looked down at the black slacks he was wearing and nodded. “Sicily’s isn’t that fancy, I promise.” Remus nodded again, unsure of what to say, and Marlene seemed to heavily consider her next words before she spoke them out loud. “And don’t do anything you don’t want to.”
“Well, what does that mean?” He asked, looking up. Marlene hesitated.
“Well, you know… like you said, you haven’t had a boyfriend, and he’s got a kid, so… you know. Maybe he’s more– experienced.” Remus scrunched up his face.
“Oh, jeez, Marlene– don’t give me the talk .”
“I’m just saying! Don’t feel… you know… pressured.” Sirius wasn’t like that. Or maybe he was. Remus didn’t know him. He had barely just learned his last name. He still didn’t even know if Harry was actually his kid, or if that woman at the bistro was his… something? Though clearly not, because he’d asked Remus on a date, or maybe– “It’ll be fine. You’ll have fun.”
“Yeah, sure…” Remus muttered. If I manage to function properly, maybe. The bell on the door rang, and Marlene patted him on the shoulder. “Go get some water. I’ll handle the drinks.” Remus nodded and walked to the back room.
He had a date. A real date. With a real boy. A man. Oh, god, a man. It wasn’t like they were school kids, which… Remus was pretty sure that was the last time he might have even had any semblance of having a boyfriend… Christ, what was he getting himself into? There was something heavy behind his eyes, and he got a weird feeling like he was floating a bit.
***
The shift was a double. It was four hours from seven to eleven, an hour lunch, and then noon to four. Sirius had asked him out at nine, later than he usually came in because it was a Saturday, and so that left Remus eight whole hours to stew over the whole situation in his head.
Around ten, the fluttering feeling in his chest had dulled to a sort of tingling under his skin, anticipation and anxiety muddling inside him. He convinced himself by then that this wasn’t a truly awful idea, because if it went wrong, he could just ask Marlene to start his shifts at 8 in the morning instead of 7, which would avoid Sirius altogether.
At eleven, he spent lunch going over his wardrobe, somehow getting stuck on what pair of shoes he wanted to wear while he considered the ways in which this could actually go well and not terribly. He owned converse, but he never managed to tie them very well because of how his fingers wouldn’t quite listen to him, and he pictured himself tripping over the laces and falling flat on his face. Were converse even fancy? Probably not. And then there were his work shoes, which were the ugliest pair of black tennis shoes he’d ever seen, so those were out.
At one, he remembered that his mum had given him a pair of nice leather boots that slid on easily, and that he hadn’t quite had an occasion to wear yet because they felt a bit too nice to wear to work, and a bit too new to wear anywhere else, but he figured this was a good occasion, and also something he’d certainly tell her about and something she’d have a good laugh over.
And then at two, he tasted metal.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Marlene,” Remus said, and the misery in his voice made her turn almost instantly. She frowned at him. “I’m getting an aura.”
“Fuck,” Marlene said. At least they were on the same page. “It started just now?” Remus nodded, tension building in his chest, because this was really, really not at all what he needed right now, and also supremely unfair. “Alright,” Marlene muttered. She wiped her hands off on her apron, biting the inside of her cheek. “Damn. Alright. Do you want to try to get home?”
Remus frowned. He swallowed down something sharp in his throat. There was a sense of dread building behind his eyes. Sometimes when he got auras, he had almost an hour before he went down. Sometimes he had seconds. Remus wrapped his arms around his ribs like it would hold him together.
“I’ve got a date, Marlene,” he breathed, and then he couldn’t help but laugh at himself, because of course that’s what he was worried about.
“You might still make it,” Marlene said reassuringly. “It’s only, what, two? You’ve got time. And if not, I’m sure Sirius wouldn’t mind if you rescheduled. He already waited this long to ask you out.”
“I guess,” Remus croaked.
He groaned, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. It was always the worst timing. Maybe he was cursed. Something very mean in the back of his head reminded him that sometimes episodes were brought on by stress, and the thought that Sirius asking him out on a date might have kicked this off made him feel immensely guilty for some reason. When he opened his eyes, Marlene was still watching him, concern plastered on her face. The metallic taste in his mouth was stronger, acidic like a battery, and his tongue felt numb. Fuck, he thought.
“I don’t think I can walk home,” Remus admitted bitterly.
“Alright,” Marlene repeated. She took a deep breath and then blew it out. “Alright. Why don’t you sit? I’ll close up for now.”
“You don’t have to–”
“Remus,” she said simply, and he knew to shut his mouth. Marlene was probably the only one who knew how to look after him as well as his mum. She’d known him longer than any of his other friends, and she’d never faltered in her genuine care for his well being. She was also one of the few people who trusted him to know his own limits, and he trusted her well enough to tell her when he reached them.
Remus sighed shakily, sitting with his back against the counter. He heard Marlene flip the sign on the door, click the lock, and make her way back over. She came and sat with him on the floor behind the counter. Remus thudded his head back against the wood behind him.
“Not to be a bummer,” he said quietly, “but this fucking sucks.”
“Yeah,” Marlene murmured.
“I had a date,” Remus whined.
“You still have a date, Moony,” she pointed out. “Do you want to text him? Reschedule?” Remus didn’t. He really didn’t. What he really wanted was for this to be something simple. Absence, or maybe atonic. Those weren’t awful. But those ones didn’t taste like this.
“He asked me out,” Remus breathed instead. “Can you believe that?”
“I mean… yeah,” Marlene laughed. Remus raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh, come on.”
“What?”
“Seriously? He’s had eyes for you since the first time he came in,” she shook her head, smiling.
“Wh– really?”
“Since the second you knew how to spell his name. Honestly, who names a kid Sirius?”
“Who names a kid Remus?” Remus countered, and she snorted.
“Wolfy McWolf,” she grinned, and Remus rolled his eyes. “Do you think his middle name is a star, too?”
“I’ll have to ask, I guess,” Remus shrugged. They sat in silence for a while. Remus felt his phone burning a hole in his pocket, and he tossed the idea back and forth of texting Sirius. Maybe he could just say he was feeling sick. But then he might think he was just flaking out, making up excuses not to go. And then it would be even more awkward when Sirius came in the next day and ordered a latte and Remus had to–
Everything blurred together, then. Remus felt his head tip back, the world swirling before his eyes. Marlene was cupping the back of his neck, guiding him to the floor, and blood rushed in his ears. He felt anxiety surging in his stomach, the bitter taste in his mouth spreading over his entire tongue and down his throat, and then he was numb.
He didn’t know how long the first one lasted.
He thought he might be coming back from it, the ache creeping into his bones, Marlene’s voice cutting through only barely– it’s alright, you’re alright, come on. It’s okay. Can you hear me? Come on, Moony– but then he was out again, and back, and out, and back, and Marlene sounded farther and farther away each time, and more and more urgent– Remus? Come on, please? Just breathe. You need to breathe. Remus? Remus, please.
He felt like he was underwater. Everything was cold and sharp and all he could feel was the crushing burn in his lungs, and there was copper in his mouth right alongside the battery taste. There were lights, and sirens, and something cold and sharp, and in those moments where he could form a thought, which were few and far between, it was only this; something is wrong.