Chapter Text
“Welcome back to coverage of the World Figure Skating Championships. If you’re just tuning in, you, like many others, have probably been paying close attention to our next skater, Welsh sensation and British Championship gold medalist, Remus Lupin.” As Remus stood in front of the television, Sirius pushed at his hips to get him to move out of the way, evidently so he didn’t miss a single moment.
“I don’t know why you’re watching this. It’s not like we don’t know the outcome,” Remus laughed, settling onto the hotel bed next to him and trying to get Sirius’ attention by nibbling at his irregular collarbone, a trick that usually worked for him. Today, it only earned him a tilt of Sirius’ head.
“We didn’t get to hear all of this,” Sirius replied, waving erratically at the screen. “It’s fun.” As the announcer continued, Remus couldn’t help but agree. It was rather fun to listen to the media’s theories on the exact nature of their relationship. Especially now, after providing them with such gossip fodder.
As Remus resigned himself to listening and not attempting to distract Sirius, the announcer continued. “If you haven’t been following figure skating, you’ve at least seen the tabloids. I don’t think there’s a single person in the world who doesn’t have a theory about it.” There was an equal surge of arrogance and annoyance in Remus’ chest as he listened to the broadcast. While the rumors and speculation had been a little fun to fabricate, the attention around them often hadn’t. It meant that he and Sirius couldn’t go anywhere in the last year without being mobbed by fans, reporters, paparazzi.
“It all started last year when Sirius Black decided to coach Welsh skater, Remus Lupin who, up to that point, was a mediocre skater and a relatively unknown name,” the announcer stated, leaving a snarl on side of Remus’ mouth. As if on cue, Sirius turned and placed a delicate kiss right atop that snarl, and it dissolved underneath his lips. In reply, Remus slipped his arms around Sirius’ waist and moved in closer.
“Draco Malfoy, this year’s Russian Championship gold medalist, challenged him to a duel of sorts, to win the right to Sirius Black as their coach. Side note, as perhaps a result of Draco’s loss in that local competition, he has since left the tutelage of his father, notorious Russian coach, Lucius Malfoy, and is now skating under James Potter from England, the same former skater who coached Sirius Black when he, too, left Russia.” For the first time, Remus let himself smile, noticing that Sirius looked up to watch. It was strange, the little family they’d made of themselves, but at the holidays last year, he’d found himself surrounded by not only his own family (Pete and Dorcas and Marlene included), but Sirius’ family (which was composed of little brother Regulus and now brother-in-law James), as well as Harry and Draco.
“But back to Lupin,” the announcer drew their attention again. “His short program in that competition, much like the now viral video of him skating Sirius’ Black acclaimed free skate, had been nothing short of explosive to the skating community, including Lupin’s comments that came after his victory.” This time, the arrogance rooted out the annoyance, and Remus couldn’t help but lean forward and bury his lips into the wilds of Sirius’ hair, just behind his ear, rewarded with a breathy, inviting laugh.
They played the clip of Remus’ interview after the competition with Draco, the one where he provided an expletive-riddled confession of being in love with Sirius Black. “It was a little difficult to make out through all the bleeps, but Lupin states plainly that he’d, quote, ‘been in love with Sirius Black’ his whole life. The media frenzy that followed was only exacerbated later that same year when Lupin, after having won silver in the Grand Prix, gave this interview.” The next clip was one that made Remus laugh out loud, as he could remember impishly plotting what to say with Sirius the night before that skate, knowing exactly what the reporters would ask him, because they’d set it up that way specifically.
In the clip, Remus came onto camera with gold leaf around his eyes (done by Dorcas and Marlene) and his dark curls fluffed and parted to one side (done by Pete), in a black and gold outfit with random sheer cutouts along his arms and across his midsection (designed by Sirius). At the sight of him, Sirius let out a dramatic moan, throwing himself backward into Remus’ arms, despite the fact that he’d seen Remus in this outfit (and hurriedly taken Remus out of this outfit) only the day before.
The reporter had asked him immediately, ‘Remus, the rumor mills are swirling after that photo on your Instagram with Sirius Black in the background,’ and the expression on Remus’ face, at first, had been unbridled hubris. Mostly because they’d staged that photograph of him and Sirius, both clearly naked, in their last night in the open-air bath before they left the next morning for the Grand Prix Final in France. Of course, there was nothing overtly obscene about the photo, no indecent exposure. Sirius had been innocently lounging on the shallow edge of the bath with one leg (and one very naked hip) out of the water as Remus had taken the photo, with his own equally-as-naked reflection in the glass door accidentally in the shot, the reflection of the phone between his legs keeping him censored. Remus had ‘quickly’ taken it down, but only once it had incited the media frenzy that they were anticipating.
Remus could remember trying so hard to moderate his expression during this interview, switching in a snap from arrogance to feigned embarrassment, bashfully biting down on his lip for a few seconds before responding with, ‘It’s really not that strange, Sirius and I bathe together all the time.’ And as the reporter had tried to get more salacious information out of him, Remus had interrupted with, ‘I don’t know, we’re naked around each other so often, I just didn’t think about what it might look like to everyone else.’ Next to him, Sirius laughed, just as uproariously as he had the first time he saw it, and Remus couldn’t help but tackle him back onto their hotel bed and smother him with enthusiastic kisses.
From where they lay entangled on the bed, the Worlds announcer came back after the clip and stated, “And today, at the World Figure Skating Championships, some eagle-eyed fans have pointed out that Remus Lupin and Sirius Black are wearing matching gold bands around the ring fingers of their left hands.” The announcer’s voice faded into the background as Remus continued to bathe Sirius Black, his idol, his celebrity crush, his coach, his husband, in wildly adoring and increasingly amorous kisses.
“Maybe debuting the rings at Worlds was a bit soon,” Sirius sighed as Remus’ lips spread down his throat, as Remus’ hand slipped between his legs. “I didn’t think they’d overshadow you so much.”
“Hush, darling,” Remus whispered into his open mouth, pushing it further open so that he could slip his tongue inside. “They just validated the message we were trying to send with the free skate.”
“The song you picked for the free skate was genius, Moony,” Sirius laughed between kisses as Remus’ hands drifted underneath Sirius’ shirt. “Forcing people to hypothesize about our relationship and then skating to a song called ‘I’m In Love With You.’ It couldn’t have been more perfect, I think.”
“I learned from the best,” Remus said with a laugh of his own, his lips to Sirius’ tummy. “If you’ll recall making me skate to a song about how much you wished you’d fucked me in Minsk, and I still skate to it. In professional competitions.” The laugh in Sirius’ throat evolved into a full-bodied cackle.
“Well, it helped you make the podium, didn’t it?” Sirius asked brashly, proudly.
“Silver,” Remus said with a sharp exhale of disbelief that left a shiver in Sirius’ skin underneath his lips. “At fucking Worlds.” In the background, Remus could hear the start of his free skate to The 1975’s I’m In Love With You on the rebroadcast of the last legs of the competition from the night before.
“Only a matter of time before you get the formal invitation to the British Olympic team,” Sirius mused absently, finally paying more attention to the work of Remus’ hands, to the work of his mouth.
“I won’t skate for anyone but you,” Remus said with a devout murmur as his fingers tugged at the zipper of Sirius’ trousers. To the melody of his own free skate, he began to sing softly into Sirius’ skin, slipping his hand into the open waist of Sirius’ trousers, his palm skating over the full length of Sirius’ rigid anatomy, to which Sirius replied with a recklessly rapturous sigh. “Heartbeat, it’s coming in so strong.”
“If you don’t stop,” Sirius half-sang the next line, glancing down at Remus through dark lashes and a bitten lip. “I’m gonna need a second one.” Blindly, he reached over his head for a familiar bottle.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you, baby,” Remus continued as Sirius emptied a portion of the slippery liquid into his palm before reaching down to transfer it into Remus’ hand, using the unsteady grip to pull Remus forward as he moved back to position himself against the headboard.
At the same time, Remus shifted the joggers down around his thighs and Sirius adjusted the waist of his boxers. Before Remus angled his hips to let his aching skin meet Sirius’ own, he took a moment to remember the incredulity and glory he’d felt the first time he’d laid eyes upon this sight over a year ago, the sight of Sirius Black, aroused for him. He straddled Sirius’ naked hips before leaning in to kiss him.
The song caught up to them and Sirius mumbled onto Remus’ lips, “It’s simple and it goes like this. I’m in love with you,” and Remus could remember the wonderful shock he felt the first time Sirius had said this to him, not long after Remus had already announced it to the whole world, not long after their first meeting in the open-air bath, not all that long after their thwarted tryst in a hotel in Minsk.
Behind them, on the television, Remus could vaguely hear the sounds of thunderous applause following the choreographic sequence of the free skate that helped seal his silver medal at Worlds, occasionally picked out a word from the announcers about whether or not Remus had just winked at Sirius from across the ice (he had), but it was all background noise. The only thing in the world that mattered to him in that moment was Sirius, undone beneath him, softly cursing in Russian, calling out Remus’ favourite nickname, and wearing the ring Remus had proposed to him with on his left hand.
At the apex of his free skate, when the song moved into ‘Yeah, I got it, found it, just gotta keep it,’ Remus listened to the crowds cheering for the flawless quad lutz he’d just landed on screen, but all he could think about was Sirius in his hands, Sirius in his mouth, the way Sirius had laughed at him when he’d brought up the idea of skating to this song for his free skate. ‘Leave it to you to choose a song that has the word fuck in it,’ he’d said, playfully grumbling about having to edit it to cover it up. But every practice, Sirius would call out that line like it was his favourite part. ‘Don’t fuck it! You muppet!’ as if he were telling Remus to land that damn quad lutz the same simple way he always did, by picturing Sirius on his knees.
It was no different at the biggest figure skating competition in the world. The moment that line came up, right when Remus landed Sirius’ favourite jump, he’d heard Sirius shout it out from across the ice, cursing and everything, and Remus couldn’t help but let the widest, most natural smile splash over his face. Just as he had in the free skate, beaming and mouthing the words at him as he flew across the ice, he sang the same words to Sirius now, with their glossy fingers entwined on matching unyielding skin, and it meant more right then than it ever had. “I’ve been counting my blessing, thinking this through,” and as the song continued on the screen, Sirius let his mouth hang open as an invitation for Remus to lean in and kiss him, which he did, feverishly, like the thrust of his hips, before singing, “Yeah, I’m in love with you.”
“Moony,” Sirius moaned, letting his head fall back to meet the headboard as climax moved through his body in the tightening of his skin, the trembling of his thighs, the quickening of his breath, the thrumming of his pulse – a progression so familiar to Remus, but so sacred, that he felt a spiritual ache in his chest every time he was allowed to watch it happen, every time he was allowed to make it happen.
As Sirius spilled out between his own fingers, and between Remus’ fingers around them, with the warmth of his orgasm seeping into Remus’ grip, Remus felt that familiar progression creeping in from the hollows of his gut. He pulled back, sitting on his heels as he let Sirius watch him carry on alone, but Sirius was never content just to watch. Without a word, he pushed Remus back onto the hotel mattress, taking Remus into his own fingers with the same intensity, the same rhythm, the same fondness. His lips were pressed to Remus’ ear at once, whispering the few short phrases of Russian that he knew Remus would know, at first catering to the lecherous ache in his hips with explicitly pornographic cursing. But his speech betrayed the sentiment in his heart, moving in a perfect gradient, becoming ever more sweet, ever more gentle, broadening the ache in Remus’ chest with vows of love and promises of the future.
As always, it didn’t take long for Remus to come to the sound of Sirius Black whispering into his ear, with Remus’ earlobe between his teeth and Remus’ cock between his fingers. With a heavily satisfied sigh, Remus let the tension in his abdomen lax, reclining fully onto the mattress, loose and blissed out, with Sirius at his side, both of them covered in the messy aftermath of affection and desire.
The broadcast on television caught their attention again, long after the song had come to an end, and Remus had taken his bows. The screen showed Sirius and Remus at the Kiss and Cry, anxiously awaiting the scores of Remus’ free skate, Sirius unabashedly beaming at Remus as Remus panted with the residual exhaustion of skating a free skate choreographed by Sirius Black. Of course, the camera focused on their interwoven fingers of both hands, showcasing the shimmering gold on each of their fingers.
Remus had been the very last skater. His scores at that moment had determined whether he would medal or not. Despite the fact that they knew the outcome of this, Remus and Sirius still found themselves watching with rapt focus. The scores appeared on the screen, enough for Remus to claim silver, and after they screamed and celebrated, Sirius had grabbed Remus by the face and kissed him hard on the mouth, kissing him quite a bit longer and quite a bit more fervently than a quick peck on the lips.
“Did I just –” Sirius said as he watched himself pull away from a very surprised, but very pleased Remus Lupin, who was now a World Championship figure skater. Sirius silently blinked down at Remus.
“Oh, are we even now?” Remus said with a devilish smirk, eyebrow raised high. “Did you accidentally create a media frenzy about our relationship? Did you kiss me and then forget all about it?”
When Sirius laughed, every time he laughed since the day Remus met him, it was like the feeling of coming home to a quiet open-air bath. It was the same feeling of watching Sirius’ iconic free skate, but for the first time, all over again, when he’d skated at the Internationaux de France as a man freed from his past. It was like listening to a song he’d been longing to hear for ages. The song of a bird set free.