Chapter Text
Soft skin.
Sirius is happy that the material of his black gloves separates him from Remus when he begins to trace the stencil with the needle. He holds Remus arm down against the plastic covered cushion and tries his best to not be distracted by the goosebumps that follows his touch like a map over his skin.
He works in quiet, the buzzing of the machine filling the space with its steady noise. Their breathing as a repetitive slow beat behind it.
Their heads are close together. Sirius is bent down concentrating, but he can feel Remus shift to lift his head so that he’s watching Sirius face as he works.
“How’s the pain?” Sirius asks without looking up and Remus hums approvingly.
“Manageable.”
Sirius smiles and steadies his grip on Remus arm as he traces one of the thinner lines of a leaf. Moving his own hand to get the smooth bend of the shape.
“My other one hurt worse,” Remus continues, and Sirius can hear the smile in his voice. “I might have cried just a little bit when doing that.”
Sirius chuckles quietly, that familiar curiosity rising in his chest when thinking about the uncharacteristic tattoo.
“When did you do that one?” He asks, his tone casual though there are a lot more questions that he wishes to have answered about the taunting ink on Remus skin.
“Hmm,” Remus hums in complementation. “Around five years ago maybe? It was at the end of my days at uni.”
Sirius hums and licks his lips absentmindedly as the image of the lollipop enters his mind again.
“Why that one? Or, I mean—” Sirius feels his face getting hotter as he tries to ask the question. “Does it mean something special to you?”
He’s surprised when Remus let’s out in a sudden laugh. Sirius holds his shaking arm down and gives the other man a scolding look before continuing with the delicate lines of the tattoo.
“Sorry,” Remus says with a chuckle. “No. No, the lollipop in the shape of the moon near my crotch doesn’t have any deeper meaning.”
Sirius sees in the corner of his eye how Remus lifts his free hand and presses his fingers over the inside of his hipbone where Sirius knows that the tattoo is hidden.
“I always felt drawn to the moon, I like candy, and that area is—hrm, well. It is a very sensitive place on my body,” he continues and there is a sudden ringing in Sirius ears. His mouth waters and he have to lift the needle from Remus skin to not let it falter and make the lines crooked.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.
Sirius lifts his head and looks at him and immediately wishes that he didn’t. Remus eyes are filled with that wicked glint that Sirius have played on repeat in his head since they met. There is a blush rising on his face and down his jaw and a heat-filled challenge in his eyes.
“Stop that,” Sirius says weakly, but he is sure that his own expression is telling another story because Remus raises a quirky eyebrow and gives Sirius a questioning smile.
“Stop what?”
His voice is low and deep, and Sirius is overcome with the sudden need to have it in his body. He wants the vibrations of Remus voice on the inside of his skin. Wants to be shaken to the core by his timbre.
Sirius licks his lips and looks down at the arm again. Takes a deep breath before placing the needle back on his skin.
“You know what,” he says quietly and doesn’t allow himself to look back up at Remus face.
Remus is quiet but as Sirius continues his work he can feel his gaze on him. Heavy and prickling like the air around them. Looking.
They work in silence but by the time that Sirius is content with the result—he feels thinned out and light-headed by the tension between them. He sits back and examines the lines before turning of the machine and declaring himself done.
Remus looks at the tattoo with an awed expression on his face. He turns his arm this way and that, and Sirius can’t help but feel rather pleased with the way the flowers dance over the veins under his skin.
“I love it,” he says and smiles warmly. “You are really good Sirius.”
Sirius thanks him and tries to control his body to not squirm from the praise from the lips of the other man. Everything between them feeling so charged that a simple compliment has Sirius heart rate raising and his cheeks flushed.
They wrap Remus arm in protective plastic and then Remus stands with his back resting against a divider wall between Regulus and Sirius station as Sirius cleans up.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you—” he begins and then swallows and looks away out the window to the snowy street outside. “I was just wondering how you’re doing now?”.
His face looks warm, and his body tense.
“I mean in general. When we met you said it yourself that you were a mess and now a few months have passed since then and I was just wondering—"
He breathes in a shallow breath and closes his eyes like in annoyance of himself.
“Not that you are expected to be okay in a couple of months. You’re not. There is no time pressure to your grief. I don’t mean like that I just—god, fuck I don’t know what I mean.”
He looks up and his eyes are imploring. Begging Sirius to understand.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to ask this in the right way. I just want to—you know.”
Sirius reaches out a hand on instinct and wraps his fingers around the other man’s wrist. Feeling the erratic pulse underneath his fingers.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I know what you mean.”
He does. He knows that Remus doesn’t want to pressure him. Doesn’t want to bring any expectation into their intertwined life but he also knows that they both can feel the tension in the studio in that moment. The way it almost feels like they share a heartbeat. Like if Remus’s fluttering pulse under Sirius fingertips is his own.
They both want it. Want more.
Sirius doesn’t know how but somehow; he musters up the strength to let go of Remus’s wrist and take a small step back.
“You don’t deserve this Remus. You are too good to be interested with a wreck like me and to be used for your kindness.”
He says the words quietly but knows that Remus hears them just the same. His expression sad and confused, trying to understand.
“How would you use me Sirius?” He asks sincerely. Standing there in all his compassion and doesn’t understand the way that Sirius wants to lean on him. Wants to have him not only for himself but for Harry too and for their shared burden. He wants him as a blanket to pull over himself and his sadness. He wants his arms to lift the weights the everyday life that Sirius himself doesn’t have the strength to endure.
It is not fair to him he thinks for the hundred time as he scans the open expression on Remus pink-cheeked face. It is just not fair to him.
“You don’t understand,” he says and flinches at the hurt flying over Remus eyes. “I can’t just give you the good parts. There is and will be so many bad parts Remus. And you are so good and so kind, and I know that I wouldn’t be able to distinguish between the normal parts of a relationship and the parts that aren’t fair and healthy. I just know that if you were—" he stops and shakes his head in trying to find the right words. “—if you were more than a friend to me then my sadness would make your life so much darker. And I wouldn’t be able to stop myself to lean on you for the heavy and hellish bits.”
He breathes hard and looks at Remus desperately. Trying to convey his meaning that is being rumpled up in his thoughts.
“You deserve to be with someone less broken. Someone whole."
Remus watches him with weary eyes. His lower lip caught between his teeth and stained scarlet when he lets it go.
“I wish that you would let me be a part of that decision Sirius. And you should ask me what I can handle and trust me to answer truthfully.”
He says the words with a quite determination, but his eyes are soft and pleading. Sirius mind is whirling with his thoughts, and he tries to ignore the pressure over his chest as he tries to come up with a coherent and honest sentence.
Sirius hesitates too long. He is caught in his head and Remus looks at him and waits but then when Sirius doesn’t answer, a defeated expression falls over his face.
“I think I should go,” he says quietly. A tilt to his lips but the attempt of a smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m overstepping and I’m sorry. I promised that I wouldn’t pressure you.”
He pushes himself of the wall to leave but something snaps within Sirius. Something that makes him take a quick stride forward and, without thinking, back Remus up against the wall and trap him there with his body. His chest is heaving and his scrambled thoughts fighting in his head to form themselves to words.
Remus gasps surprised of the impact and then stands there frozen with his chest pressed against Sirius’s.
“Sirius,” he breathes, and Sirius can feel the tremble of his body against him.
Sirius leans his head forward next to Remus head and rest his cheeks against his neck. Feels his warm breath on the shell of his ear and the heat of his body where they are close together.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles and closes his eyes hard. A shiver running through him when he feels Remus fingers pressing lightly against the nape of his neck.
They stand there for a while. Breathing against each other. Remus fingers carding though Sirius hair and Sirius scrambling to make sense of his own actions. To take a step in either direction but instead he remains frozen there on the line between too little and too much.
It is finally Remus who breaks the silence. His low voice close to Sirius ear and his fingers trailing down his spine.
“I want to take care of you Sirius. I want you to let me take care of you.”
Sirius lets himself relax in the other man’s arms. Let his body slump against him and his arms tangle themselves around his waist in a hug.
It is warm and safe, and Sirius really doesn’t want to cry. He doesn’t want to, but the tears fall on their own accord and Remus just keeps running his hand up and down Sirius back in a repetitive calming pattern.
When Sirius takes a step back his cheeks are wet and his eyes red and yet Remus looks at him like he is some kind of beautiful epiphany.
Remus raises his hands and wipes the tears on Sirius cheeks away with his thumb. Leaves his hands on Sirius face with the softest press of his fingers to his jaw and cheekbones. His eyes flicking down to his parted lips, but he doesn’t move any closer than they’re already standing.
Sirius knows that he still can’t. He knows it has to be Sirius who makes that choice. He sways uncertain on his feet and tries to think of what would happen if he did. If he made the moved and kissed those pink lips that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for so long now.
He tries to think pass them in the studio. What happens after. Of inviting Remus into Harrys and his home, not as a friend but something more. For him to see the parts that Sirius still hasn’t shared. The parts when he gets so frustrated at Harry tantrums that he has to lock himself into the bathroom and breath for a couple of minutes to not break and scream back at the innocent baby. The parts where there still isn’t a night that doesn’t include at least one diaper change that Sirius does with his eyes half-closed and a fuzzy and whining Harry on the changing table. The parts where they sometimes stand at the door—fully dressed to go out—but then the reality of their life and the people they are missing hits Sirius like a ton of bricks. Those times when he has to crawl back and spend the following hours crying in bed while Harry stares enthralled at some colourful baby show on the tv.
Sirius knows that Remus would take those parts as well. He knows of his care and the way he never says no to holding Harry or give Sirius a grounding hand on his shoulders when he can see the drift of his gaze.
He knows this about Remus, but he also knows that Remus is the most precious person he has ever met. He sorts his wardrobe by colour and has a weird and random fear of badgers. He can quote poets and philosophers but if he tries to talk about any pop-culture reference he always gets it wrong. He forgets to drink his tea and then when he takes a sip and it’s cold, he looks at it like if it personally sought out to wound him.
He is the kindest and sweetest soul and Sirius cannot see how they would make it through the hard parts and still stay intact.
He takes a step back. Detangles himself from Remus hands on his face and adds distance between them instead of closing it.
Remus let his arms fall to his sides and he watches Sirius in quiet before looking away.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice so unnaturally small for his tall frame. “I promised that I wouldn’t ask anything of you and here I am.”
He huffs out a miserable laugh and shakes his head with his eyes firmly set on the floor between them. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s not you—” Sirius begins but Remus quickly cuts him off with a wave of his hand and a desperation in his eyes.
“Please don’t,” he says and let out another hollow laugh. “It’s okay. I just have to—I can’t.”
He takes a deep breath and reaches for his jacket and bag before he shuffles towards the door.
“Text me what I owe you for the tattoo okay. I really love it Sirius. Thank you.”
He hurries out the door without another look back and Sirius is left with the sinking feeling that he royally fucked things up.
* * *
A week passes and they don’t see each other. Remus has a lot of promotional work to do in preparation for the new book. And Harry is teething and sleeps worse than usual which makes Sirius feel like a walking zombie. They text a bit. Small bits of hello how are you today and how’s the tattoo healing. Nothing in depth, nothing mentioning what happened in the studio and the lack of honesty in their conversations makes Sirius feel edgy with discomfort.
After one very stale message from Remus: Did you see that it is going to rain?—Sirius throws himself down on the dusty carpet of the living room and groans in the thick threads of the fabric. Harry crawls over (because he crawls now) and tugs at Sirius hair with a joyful giggle.
Sirius turns his head and glances at Harrys exited face sourly.
“One day you will grow up and you will meet a boy with impossibly long legs, and freckled skin and he will make your heart all jittery. Then you will understand my misery.”
Harry giggles again and pulls harder in Sirius hair. He turns his face back into the carpet and groans.
Another week passes and they plan to meet up at the coffee shop, but Remus cancels last minute. Says that he hasn’t had the time to pack for his flight the next day.
He is going to New York for the release party of the book. It all sounds very fancy and festive. Sirius can imagine him there, the young welsh poet with his chaotic curls and sparkling eyes. They are going to love him, and Sirius hates the churning jealousy that is building in his chest of the thought. He’s happy for Remus’s success and the attention the book has gotten. He wants the best for him but it’s the picture of all the handsome American men at the party that will drool over his appearance that makes him want to scream.
A few days later and there have been no messages from Remus. Sirius knows that he is New York and probably very busy with the exiting happenings of his life. The release party was the night before and Sirius grouchily sips his morning coffee in the sofa while imagining how Remus probably is out partying with his admirers right now.
His phone buzzes and Sirius stares at the screen when he reads the unexpected words there.
Remus: I miss you.
He doesn’t have the chance calm the storm that the words inflict in his body or to formulate a answer before another message appears on the screen.
Remus: Can I call you?
Sirius swallows and shoots a glance at Harry who is occupied with his set of building blocks. His little mouth wide open as he tries to stack the blocks on top of each other with determined concentration.
Sirius: Yes.
It only takes seconds after Sirius has typed out the answer before his phone is ringing and Remus name lights up the screen.
“Hi,” he answers, and it is like his body is suddenly floating with warmth when he hears Remus’s familiar chuckle on the other end of the line.
“Hi,” he says back, and Sirius can hear the smile in his voice. “Is this an okay time. Did I wake you?”
His words are quick, and Sirius can hear a slight slur to them. Like he’s either drunk of very tired.
“No, we are awake,” Sirius answers and twirls a strand of hair between his fingers. “How was the party?”
Remus scoffs at the other end and Sirius can hear a sound in the background like if he’s laying down.
“It was alright.”
His voice sounds further away like if he has laid down the phone on the pillow next to him. “I wish that you had been there.”
Sirius breathes in and hears the sound of Remus groaning. He can picture him there. On a fluffy hotel bed with crisp sheets and his curls splayed out on the pillow.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and a hollow laugh leaves his lips. “I’m a bit drunk.”
Sirius bites his lip and leans his head to rest it against the back of the sofa.
“I miss you too,” he says quietly, and Remus breathes at the other end. There is another noise of him moving on the bed, maybe turning so he’s laying on his side.
“I’m sorry that I have been distant since—since the studio," Remus says. "I know that it’s not very nice of me, but it is just harder sometimes—to be your friend.”
He pauses and then sighs. “That sounds so wrong. It is the easiest thing in the world to be your friend. I love being your friend. It is just hard sometimes to not want more than that.”
Sirius opens his mouth to answer but Remus is faster. His words tumbling out of him in a slurred mess.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you tonight. The thought of being able to bring you on an event like this. To make fun of the stuffiness of it all and to lean on you when it got just a little bit too much. Harry too. Just to be able to hold both of your hands and know that when the night was over, we wouldn’t have to say goodbye to each other. We could go back to hotel to build a pillow fort for Harry and bought silly things from the menu. Just be us.”
Another groan of frustration on the other end and then Remus voice is further away again.
“I’m sorry. Now I’m doing it again. I’m so sorry.”
Sirius heart is beating a mile a minute. The picture Remus is painting is like taken directly from his desires. Them being three and holding each other together.
“I want that too,” he says quietly and there is a silence on the other end, like if Remus is holding his breath.
“I do want that too,” Sirius continues. “But there is so much more then fort-building and silliness to this Remus. There is so many bad parts and—"
“Don’t you think that I know that?” Remus interrupts with a desperate tone of his voice. “I know that Sirius. I have held you in my arm when you have cried numerus times. I have seen how hard you fight and how broken you sometimes get. I know those parts and I’m telling you that they don’t scare me.”
There is a pause and another deep breath from him before he continues in a calmer tone.
“I am not looking for an easy love Sirius. I don’t want only the good parts. I want the bad ones to. And I’m sorry that I am pushing you, but the thing is that it feels like you’re hesitation regarding this is more centered around my well-being then your own. I need you to know and believe that I am very aware of what your life looks like and the burden you carry. But I want to be there and carry it with you. I want nothing more.”
He sounds more sober now. Like if the argument has pulled him out of the haze he was under when the conversation started.
“You say that it isn’t fair to me but I’m telling you that what’s not fair is that you not letting me choose this for myself.”
Sirius sits stunned with Remus staggering breaths in his ear.
“I’m sorry,” Remus mumbles and sighs hard. “I just wish that you could see into my head and see how I feel about you.”
Sirius bites his lip and closes his eyes. Imagines himself from Remus point of view and tries to understand how the other man can offer himself freely into the mess that is Sirius life.
His eyes fall on Harry on the floor. On his concentrated face as he stacks the blocks together. He pictures Remus being there, sitting on the carpet and helping Harry to steady his tower. Encourage him with that fondness that he gets in his eyes when they are together all three. He pictures Remus as a part of them and his heart jolts when he for the first time really allows himself to see a reality to that fantasy. To ignore the fear he feels of them falling apart but instead picture them as a whole.
He makes a decision then and even though it makes his heart beat like if he’s about to leap off a building—he knows it’s the right one.
“Okay,” he whispers in the phone and for a while he is scared that Remus isn’t there anymore when the silence drags for a couple of seconds.
“Okay what?” Remus whispers back, suddenly his voice so very close to Sirius ear. Almost like if he’s right there next to him and not oceans away.
“Okay let’s try it—the something more.”
Remus takes a deep breath, and Sirius can’t help but smile as he imagines the other man’s face.
“Okay,” he says. An obvious smile in his voice and Sirius lets out a quite chuckle.
A few beats of silence pass and then the sound of Remus clearing his voice.
“I’m traveling back later today. Maybe we can meet up when I’m back and the jetlag has cleared some?”
“Yeah,” Sirius says with a smirk at the shy tone of Remus voice. “Yeah okay.”
Remus hums but then fall silent once again. When he speaks again his voice is wearier. Careful like if he is unsure what to say.
“I feel scared that I pressured you too much again Sirius. I need you to really think and make sure that you want this. I know that I made a promise to you in the beginning that I haven’t kept but if you feel like it is too much then you must tell me. I much rather have you as only a friend that I can’t stop thinking filthy thoughts of, then to pressure you into something you’re not ready for.”
Sirius smiles and nods to himself.
“Okay I will,” he says and then smirks into the phone and makes his voice go an octave lower.
“Filthy thoughts huh? How filthy?”
Remus gives out a throaty laugh that makes goosebumps rise over Sirius neck.
“Oh, practically deranged.”
A rather weak moan slips out from Sirius, and he bites his lip hard to not let out any other reveling noises. Remus swallows on the other end and then chuckles warmly.
“Now get your head out of the gutter Black. I have to go to sleep and then I have a plane to catch in—” there is a pause and then a tired huff. “—six hours.”
“Okay Remus,” Sirius says and lets out a relived breath. His body feeling light and his blood thrumming in his veins. “Go to sleep and we’ll talk soon.”
“Mhm,” Remus hums in his ear. “Talk soon.”
* * *
Two days later there is a knock on the door. Sirius and Remus have texted some but most of the time Remus have been traveling or sleeping and Sirius have been busy avoiding getting bitten by Harrys enthusiastic use of his knew teeth.
He opens the door to the stairwell but there is nobody there but a package on his doormat. He bends to lift it up and examine the non-distinct form in his hands.
He goes inside, checks that Harry is fine where he’s sitting by the kitchen table and snacking on some fruit, then he sits down and unwraps the brown paper of the package in his hands.
It’s a book and when he turns it around, he quickly realizes that it is the collection of poems that Remus has been a part of making. With a smile he lets his fingers graze over Remus’s name on the back cover where it is listed among nine other authors whose names he doesn’t recognize.
He flips it open and spots a message written in Remus’s handwriting in the inside cover.
Sirius
I know poems isn’t your thing, but I hope that you’ll still take the time to read one of mine in this book. The first part I wrote before we met. The second part after. I hope that it might help you to see what I see when I look at you.
Page 102.
Love
Remus
Sirius stares at the words for some time before flipping the pages of the book and landing on page 102. The page is marked in the top-corner with the theme of the chapter: Lust.
His eyes skim down to the text signed by Remus Lupin and he reads the words and then reads them again.
There is a beginning part that is crossed over with a line.
The trembling pulses of desire
The flame, the spark, the wildest fire
A magnetic pull from deep within
A grappling need, a deadly sin.
The words go on like that. Big and generic. Heated but doesn’t make Sirius eyes linger. What makes him gasp and his heart to beat rapidly in his chest is the second paragraph. Written and not crossed out like the other.
That is not lust
Lust is the grip your grey eyes have on me.
The taste of a life lived on your lips.
Lust is the inked words written on your skin
The ones not spoken but marked to map a past.
The heaviness of the world strapped on your shoulders.
The desire to be the hand you grip in darkness.
To be your kiss on tear-stained cheeks.
To be the us in your before.
Sirius reads the words over and over again. A feeling building in his chest. A longing that he has felt since even before that first time they talked. When Harry and he walked by that window and Sirius allowed himself to picture a life with the man in there.
He wipes away the tears on his cheeks and huffs out a sniffly laugh.
Harry looks at him with big eyes and smashed banana on his face. Waiting for his parent—the person he trusts most in the world—to let him know what they’ll do next with their day.
Sirius sniffs out another tear-filled laugh and wipes Harry’s chin and then lifts him up in a hug.
“We're going on a walk buddy.”
* * *
Sirius has a feeling.
That feeling is that Remus is a silly little romantic and that Sirius knows exactly where he is.
So, they set out to meet him, but the thing is that things doesn’t go that fast when there is a baby involved.
It takes Sirius twenty minutes to get a squirming Harry dressed in his overalls and to find his best beanie that covers his ears.
Then when they finally leave the flat, Sirius realizes that he forgot Harry’s pacifier and has to run back in to find it.
Then when they are on their way Harry takes of his best beanie and throws it on the wet ground at least five million times according to Sirius calculations.
By the time that they have reached the coffee shop, more than an hour has passed and Sirius is red-faced and any giddiness he had is exchanged with stressed annoyance.
He peers in through the window in hopes of seeing his favorite jumper wearing, long-legged, hazel-eyed friend—but the chair he usually occupies is empty and there is an abandoned empty cup at the table.
Disappointment washes over him like a wave and then an even stronger wave follows with annoyance over his own dramatics. Why didn’t he just call Remus up instead of imagining some kind of movie-esque scene and then be left disappointed.
He is just about to turn and walk home again when there is a chime of the door opening and he sees Remus walking out, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and a frown between his eyebrows as he rummages through his messenger bag.
“Oi poet-guy,” Sirius calls and Remus eyes shoot up and locks on him. He looks at him with a surprised expression and then a broad grin spreads over his face.
He asses Sirius for a few moments and then walks over until they are standing just an arm-length apart.
“Sirius,” he says with an amused smirk on his face. His eyes moving down to Harry in the stroller. “Harry.”
“Jemju,” Harry says, and Remus eyes widens in shock.
“Did he just say my name,” he gasps and his eyes shoot up to look at Sirius who has to bite his lip not to burst out laughing at the bewilderment in his expression.
“Oh yeah, he talks now,” Sirius says. “Don’t you Harry?”
“On,” Harry says gravely and stretches his arms out in attempt to reach the scarf around Remus’s neck.
“That means no,” Sirius says with a sigh. “He’s lying, he does talk. Calls me Illius. It all very sweet.”
Remus eyes flick between Sirius and Harry like if he isn’t sure in who to believe and then they still on Sirius and there is a beautiful blush forming on his cheeks.
“You got my book?”
Sirius smirks and nods, grabs it from under the stroller and flips it to page 102.
“Lust is the grip your grey eyes have on me,” he reads with a musical flow to his voice. “You really thought that passionately of my eyes the first time we met?”
Remus snorts but there is a smile tugging at his lips. “Obviously. You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.
“Hmm,” Sirius hums and pretends to read another line. “And my lips huh? You have a thing for them as well?”
Remus eyes narrow and then he quirks an eyebrow in a playful expression.
“Do you want me to prove it?”
Sirius clamps the book shut and grins at him.
“I would actually yes. I think that you should prove it.”
Remus shakes his head like in disbelief and then with one mouthed sorry to Harry he takes the final step and meets Sirius smiling lips with his.
There is an orchestra somewhere I the back of Sirius mind but he is choosing to ignore it.
Remus lips are warm and soft. Sirius can feel the smile on them as he tastes them with his tongue and breathes into his mouth. Tastes just right. Just like he imagined. Just perfect.
Remus hand flies up to Sirius neck and his long fingers cards through his hair. He adds a gentle pull that makes Sirius lose his control and give out a weak whimper into his mouth.
Harry makes a loud squeal beside them and their lips part but they stay close face to face, breaths shallow and lips wet.
Harry makes another displeased noise, and they glance down at him where he still is trying his best to reach the scarf hanging from Remus neck.
Remus smiles and untangles his fingers from Sirius hair with make Sirius give out an equally displeased sound as Harry. Remus smirks at him and removes the scarf from his neck and gives it to Harry who happily accepts and presses the fabric to his face.
Remus straightens his back and looks at Sirius again. His lips swollen and his eyes shining with that familiar devilish glint.
“Would you give me a minute,” Sirius says and reaches for the phone in his pocket. “I’m just going to make a phone call.”
He doesn’t wait for Remus to respond but quickly finds Regulus number and presses the call button.
“What is it?” Regulus answers with a distracted tone and Sirius tries to keep his tone light in response.
“What are you doing right now?” He asks and watches a surprised eyebrow rise on Remus face.
“I’m sketching at the studio, why?” Regulus answers and there is the sound of paper shuffling in the background.
“Could you take Harry for a few hours?” Sirius asks, his eyes not leaving Remus’s and the smile he's trying to contain tugging at his lips.
“Why?” Regulus asks and Sirius gives Remus the most cheeky grin he can muster.
“Oh nothing. I just have a lollipop to lick.”