Whiskey And Cigarettes

Whiskey and Cigarettes

It's 2AM here but it's still Sirius' birthday in the US

I've been wanting to write something inspired by this gorgeous piece of art for ages and Sirius' birthday seemed the peferect oppurtunity to finally do it. Hopefully this is mostly coherent

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It was quiet in the house.

Quiet save for the groan of old timber settling, and the odd whistle of wind rattling the windows in their panes.

It smelled like old wood and dust, gloom and the hauntings of memories lingering in every dark corner. It was a dismal place, of that there was no doubt, and yet Remus had chosen to enter, to search the large house room by room, a single target in mind.

The crackling of a fire caught his ear, and he chased the sound, tracking it through grim hallway and creaking stairs until he saw a beam of warm light shining bright ahead of him.

He paused outside the door, closing his eyes and breathing deep. Whiskey, cigarettes, and-

“If you're just going to lurk outside the door you might as well leave, there are enough ghosts in this house.”

The door whined as he pushed it open, standing under the frame as he settled his hands in his pockets and looked inside.

Sirius was sitting near the fire, long legs sprawled in front of him, sleeves rolled up to the elbow and shirt front nearly half unbuttoned, exposing the tattoos etched into his skin. His hair hung loose and a bit haphazard around his shoulders.

There was a cigarette dangling from his fingertips, ash dropping carelessly onto the floor as his fingers fidgeted. A bottle of whiskey sat near his feet, more than half empty already.

“Dumbledore send you?”

Remus shook his head. “No.”

Sirius snorted, flicking more ash from his cigarette before taking a drag. “Course not, not like anything has changed, I'm still to sit here and do nothing like a good little dog.” He exhaled the smoke slowly, sending some through his nose as he sighed. “Why are you here, then?”

Remus’ fingers curled around the small package nestled at the bottom of his pocket. Things had been...odd between them since they reunited. There was too much history, too many years apart thinking the worst, too much that had never been said. As wonderful as it was having each other in their lives again, there was the question of how and where they fit there now.

“I came to see you.”

Sirius’ eyebrows lifted slightly, a spark of interest glittering in his eyes. “Oh?” He took one last pull from his cigarette and flicked it into the fire, snagging the whiskey bottle as his legs unfolded beneath him and pushed him back onto his feet. “Want a drink?”

Remus turned and grabbed a glass from the shelf against the wall, walking over to join Sirius at the table set on the other side of the room.

Sirius was already sitting, whiskey sitting to his right on the tabletop where his forearms were planted casually on the surface.

Remus sat to his left and set the glass down, unbuttoning his worn coat as he settled into his seat.

“So, what can I do for you, Mr. Lupin?”

Remus’ eyes roamed over the man beside him, looking for the boy he once knew. He could see him sometimes, when he smiled or laughed, when his eyes lit up and glinted like polished steel. There was the ghost of him in the line of his brow, now folded with thin lines, or the cascade of midnight hair that tumbled down his shoulders, streaked with premature grey now.

“Are you going to pour me a drink?”

Sirius reached across Remus and snagged his glass before pouring a healthy serving of whiskey into it. He plopped the stopper back into the decanter and reached back across Remus to set the glass back where it had been, motioning to it with a small flourish of his hand. “Enjoy.”

As he pulled his hand back, his fingers brushed against Remus’ knuckles, and he paused, resting his forearm back onto the table slowly, his fingertips gently resting atop of Remus’. Neither of them said anything, they just sat and listened to the fire snap behind them.

Remus shifted his shoulder just a bit closer, his heart pounding uncertainly at the close proximity. Sirius’ eyes were focused everywhere but his face, as if he were afraid of what he might find if he looked into Remus’ eyes. Remus himself couldn't look away from Sirius’ eyes, marveling at how his emotions and thoughts still played across them so plainly.

“Who are we, Remus?” He asked it softly, voice shaking. His fingertips slipping down Remus’. “What have we become?”

Remus shook his head ever so slightly. “I don't know.”

Sirius leaned closer, his gaze searching across Remus’ scars, searching for familiarity there. “I look in the mirror and I don't see myself. And I look at you and-” he closed his eyes, “-and I see someone I should know, but I don't.” His breath shuddered as it left his lungs. Eyes half opening again to stare at Remus’ lips. “I once knew you better than I knew myself. But now...now I don't know who you are.”

Remus felt the weight of twelve long years press down on his chest, there in front of him he could see the boy he had loved, vulnerable and uncertain and scared.

Reaching up, Remus brushed his fingers against the hair hanging in Sirius’ face, fingertips lingering against the silver streaks before he tucked it carefully behind Sirius’ ear. “I'm not sure who I am anymore either.”

Sirius let his head fall gently forward, resting his forehead against Remus’. They shared another long moment of silence together, just soaking in the presence of the other. Letting years old wounds lay bare.

“Happy Birthday, Sirius.”

He lifted his head ever so slightly, face now inches from Remus’, bewilderment flickering through his eyes. “Is it-” he shook his head slightly. “I've lost track...Merlin I was able to track time better in Azkaban.”

Remus frowned slightly. “Really?”

“I had a window where I could see the moon and stars, scratched a line in the wall for every cycle.” He bit his lip. “Every full moon I would...I wasn't there- I just...I'm sorry, Remus, fuck I'm so sor-”

Remus pulled Sirius forward and silenced his apology with a kiss. He was the one who was sorry, so unbearably sorry for doubting him, for believing he could have betrayed James and Lily for all those years and leaving him to rot in Azkaban.

Sirius had one hand cupped behind Remus’ neck, the other clung to his coat for dear life. His body pressing closer as if he were afraid Remus would fade away if he didn't hold on tightly enough.

Remus brushed his thumb against Sirius’ cheekbone as he curled his fingers in his hair, using his free arm to wrap around Sirius’ shoulder and pull him closer with a hand planted firmly between his shoulder blades.

They kissed each other like it was the first and the last time, desperate and content, familiar and unusual all at once.

Clothes were quickly shed and time was spent relearning the other. New scars were learned, old ones were lovingly remembered, years blurred until they found themselves again, and there in front of the fire, at last they had found some peace.

As the night crawled into the early stretches of the morning, Remus untangled himself from Sirius’ arms and fumbled for his discarded jacket, digging in the pocket for the small package which he handed to Sirius.

“What's this?” Sirius asked, turning the package over in his hands.

“Open it and find out.”

He sat up and slipped the twine off, tearing open the paper to reveal a small book. “A little notebook...charming.”

“I said to open it, Pads.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and flipped open the cover, his fingers stilling as he looked at the first page. “This...this is…”

Remus nodded. “All the notes we used to pass to each other during class, a couple of scraps from James’ notes on the Marauders or prank schemes, Marlene’s song lyrics, Dorcas’ poems, Mary’s recipes, Lily’s positive post its that she used to stick all over the place. It's a memento book, I thought it might help remind you of the good things.”

Sirius’ finger traced the odd loop James’ ‘G’s’ always had. “Thank you.”

Remus smiled and rested his head against Sirius’. “Happy birthday, Sirius.”