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Chapter Text

It wasn’t because Sirius enjoyed being high. Or, well, he did, but it was not the driving force for him. It was more the self-hatred, deeply imbedded in him from childhood and the creeping, suffocating panic of his livelihood that made him seek relief. Adding to the fact that Sirius absolutely loathed self-pity made the internal struggle everlasting and exhausting.

As he leant back, he could feel the cool dark tiles of the public bathroom against his back. He combed through his hair with shaking fingers and released a breath.
As he stood up, he saw his own reflection in the dirty mirror. Giving him a dark, judging look, almost resembling his little brother. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles. His long and curly raven-black hair an absolute tangled mess. He sighed at himself. At his situation. In the background he could hear faint music coming from the club. With a mixed feeling of necessity, like someone else was forcing his hand, and an embarrassing eagerness, he retrieved a small bag from his back pocket. He bended over, arranged a fine line at the sink and snorted. He winced briefly at the stinging sensation, as the powder entered his nostrils. He felt disgusting and weak, even more so when he thought back at the months spent in rehab. It had been a whole damn intervention, and Sirius had reluctantly given in when he realized his bandmates’ distress. He will admit that it helped, but it was not enough. Nothing was. At least not when the worlds eyes were fixed on him, the record label pushing for new music and a cursed family name which refused him any form of harmless publicity.

Sobriety was somewhat easy when he was in solitude. Nothing seemed to threaten him there.

But now everything was dangerous. Others’ expectations of him, which he always claimed not to care for, and his own being actively working against him. The lack of stability and no privacy. Truth be told, using was a coping mechanism. An expensive, destructive, and humiliating one, but still effective. If Sirius was to function in this lifestyle, using was what it took to make that happen. It wasn’t like an everyday thing. He was in control, for now. It helped release built up tension and even loneliness every now and then. It was better than releasing his inner chaos for all to see. Using was his brick wall and he’d be damned if anything slipped through the cracks.

Sirius finally mustered up the will to leave the bathroom, and as he turned, a strong, familiar hand grabbed him by the shoulder. Scott. Sirius felt him before he saw him, and as he slowly turned around to face their asshole of a manager, he got a sinking feeling. Scott smirked at him and gave a quick nod.

“See you’ve been busy with the flour again Black”.

Frustrated, Sirius wiped his nose for good measure and crossed his arms in front of his chest. It only made Scott laugh.

“Well, we both knew the rehab was a fucking joke anyway. At least it gave some good publicity”. Scott winked at him, and it made Sirius sick to his stomach. He remembered the countless photos and videos of him when he was at his lowest. And if he someday was to forget, Scott would be there to remind him. He cringed slightly as the images emerged in his brain. He saw himself outside arenas or clubs, high out of his mind, shirt torn and un-buttoned, hanging loosely around his all to bony shoulders. He remembered countless interactions with the media, in which his mental and physical state was catastrophic. The worst part was, that it wasn’t his own vanity. Anyone with eyes could see that he was struggling. That was the worst part. He had been visibly struggling. He had been weak, and it embarrassed him more than anything. Sirius released a breath as he tried to shake the vulnerability the memories left in him.

“What do you want, Scott?”, he asked with a tired expression. Scott smiled and raised a blond eyebrow.

“Easy tiger, I’m just checking up on you. Which seems appropriate taking your current condition into consideration”. He smirked again and placed his hand under Sirius’ chin, forcing his grey eyes to meet his. What he found seemed to satisfy him, and Sirius looked away. Scott hummed.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Poor little Sirius. It’s so hard always being the center of attention. A successful, rich and handsome musician in one of the most popular rock bands in the world. You’re lucky, you’re somewhat talented with that temper of yours. Being disowned suits you”.

Sirius yanked his head away from Scotts rough hand. He felt the anger built inside of him. It prickled under his skin. Just as Scott knew it would. But the anger was mixed with something else too. Something close to humiliation. He clenched his teeth.

“Fuck off Scott”, he hissed, which only made Scott laugh loudly. Sirius could feel his self-restraint slipping piece by piece. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle Scott’s torment. It had been going on for a while now. Sirius could pinpoint exactly why and when Scott had decided to make his life miserable. He had caught Sirius making out with a guy almost a year ago, and if Sirius was completely honest with himself, which he by default rarely was, it would explain his increased need for “powdered relief” ever since.

Scott sent him a condescending look and twirled a strand of Sirius’ dark hair around his index finger.

“Well, that’s no way of speaking to someone who keeps all of your dirty little secrets, now is it?”.

Sirius swallowed hard and pulled back, but Scott followed with a step towards him. Before he knew it his back hit the wall, and he was cornered. Scott sent him a poisonous smile. One of those smiles, that Sirius had come to know all too well. It was a warning of what was yet to come. A promise of a verbal blow that Sirius would need days to recover from. He shivered slightly under Scott’s cold gaze.

“What would mommy and daddy say, if they heard their disowned excuse of a son was a fag? Then you would really put shame upon the family name. More than you already have with your little holiday retreat and those nasty pictures of you”. Scott paused and eyed him intently, before he continued; “It would take much less to ruin the bands career as well”.

Scott moved closer then and Sirius felt stinging in his eyes that he refused to acknowledge as tears. He wouldn’t cry and especially not in front of Scott. He never did. But it hurt. It hurt so bad, because it was true. He knew it and Scott knew it. He couldn’t count how many times Scott’s words had made him cry himself to sleep in a lonely hotel room. They haunted him in his dreams. Taunting him. They crept inside his mind and Scott made sure that they stayed in there.

Sirius had often considered telling James and Peter, but he was embarrassed. They knew about his preferences and did not care in the slightest. But he was afraid of what Scott would do when he found out that he told on him. And as he already felt like a burden to the band after the whole “rehab situation”, he did not want any more of his problems to reach the surface. Sirius’ self-worth was badly bruised, and he couldn’t risk getting hurt. Furthermore, and maybe even more terrifying, Sirius often tended to agree with Scott’s condescending words. Ultimately, he was left with no choice. He choked slightly, forcing the sobs back in his throat. Scott huffed.

“Aw, is Sirius Black crying? Seems like I hit a weak spot. You know you could fire me, if you weren’t such a fucking coward. If you weren’t so fucking scared of what I know about you. If you weren’t so bloody ashamed of yourself”. Scott pushed his chest to Sirius’.

Sirius swallowed again. His breathing became forced and fast. Scott forcefully grabbed his chin once more and yanked his head up. A small and well-known voice appeared in the back of his mind.

Please just hit me. Please make it hurt anywhere else. Hit me.

Scott studied his face for a brief second, as if he could hear his silent plea. Then he continued in a cold voice; “I own you, Sirius. Don’t ever fucking forget that”.

Then Scott released him, pushed him against the wall and gave him a disapproving look, scanning his body from top to bottom. Sirius could feel his disgust. He knew how he looked. Worn-out, dirty and in clothes that left little to the imagination. His shirt was open and exposed his tattooed chest and abdomen. His ripped jeans hung low on his protruding hip bones, showing more tattoos trailing down below the fabric. Sirius knew he had some dark bruises scattered around his neck and torso. Marks that happened to appear when the nights became too lonely, and he needed physical touch. In any shape or form.

“At least you look like the fucking slut that you are”, Scott spat and then something clicked in Sirius. Maybe it was the drugs kicking in, maybe it was his self-esteem hitting rock bottom. He felt raw and exposed until his very core and he snapped. His fist connected with Scott’s face and he heard a satisfying crack. Scott groaned and reached for his nose as the blood started spilling down his mouth.

“You fucking useless piece of shit!”. Scott hauled himself at Sirius, landing a punch at his face just as a big security guard entered from the club behind them.

“Hey! What’s going on here!”. He quickly separated them, almost needing to peel Scott of from Sirius, who was panting heavily. He could taste blood, but apart from that, all of his senses were surprisingly numb. He watched as the security guard forced Scotts hands behind his back and called for back-up. Scott fought and yelled like a mad man, until two police officers showed up, and forced him into the back of their car.

Sirius was frozen in place as the officers took statements from the guard. Was this his way out? Could Scott be removed from his life for good without consequences? Or would this have major consequences that would be his undoing? He swallowed dryly, as the officers approached.

The officers took Sirius’ statement, and for once he was in luck. His tendency to choose anonymous and somewhat shady clubs resulted in no security camera capturing the incident. It all came down to the guard who stepped in just as Scott punched Sirius in the face. The officers offered him a ride back to the station so he could be picked up from there. He had no desire to accept the offer, but he knew, he needed to call Parker, the band’s lawyer, anyway, before more shit hit the fan, so he gave in and soon found himself at the station calling Parker.

---- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Sirius held his breath and bit his fingers as he waited for Parker to pick up. It was around three in the morning, and he knew he had fucked up. Again. He had considered getting home on his own, but he had learnt the importance of damage control. Parker was good at that. He needed Parker and, surprisingly, he trusted him as well. Sirius’ former incidents had brought the two of them closer, and Sirius suspected that he was the biggest reason for the band having a lawyer on speed dial around the clock.

Sirius heard a muffled sound as the phone was picked up, and his heart pounded. Even though he knew calling Parker was the right, and only, thing to do from here, he still wasn’t a fan of the concept. Parker let out a sigh in the other end.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me Sirius. It’s three in the morning”.

Sirius couldn’t help the small smile forming on his lips at Parker’s annoyed tone. He could already hear him getting out of bed.

“I know. I’m sorry. I- I’m at the station. Can you come pick me up?”. God he hated how he sounded like a fucking school boy calling his dad. Parker went quiet for a second before he sighed once again. Sirius cringed.

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in 10 minutes. Please, for once, behave until I get there”. Sirius rolled his eyes at the comment.

“Always do”, he said, and Parker snorted at that hanging up like the diva lawyer he was.

Only 8 minutes later, Parker walked through the glass doors to the station and Sirius knew he had speeded all the way. He was dressed nicely, and he walked with the importance and attitude of a lawyer, and to Sirius’ great dismay, also a bit like a dad. Parker eyed him down and Sirius slumped in the chair, the childish feeling growing inside him. Parker was not happy with him, and he had no trouble showing it.

---- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

“What a fucking douchebag”, Parker stated as he grabbed tightly around the steering wheel of his black Range Rover once they were on their way home. Sirius nodded. He had not told him everything, but enough. He suspected that Parker was aware of this. They agreed on not pressing charges, seeing that it would only aggravate Scott even more.

“I’ll take care of this. Scott is not interested in this getting out, as no one saw you throwing the first punch, he looks like the bad guy. It’s done and over with by the morning”, Parker continued and looked sternly forward with furrowed brows.

Sirius huffed and shifted slightly in his seat. “So, I’m the bad guy then?”, he asked and looked at Parker who smiled at the road in front of them.

“You couldn’t be even if you tried. You’re just too damn soft”, he shrugged without taking his eyes of the road. Sirius gasped.

“I’m not soft”, he exclaimed and crossed his arms. Parker laughed and parked in front of Sirius’ house. Parker turned to face him and looked him over.

“You go to sleep, and I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”.

Sirius swallowed and nodded. He felt bad about waking Parker and making him do all this. Cleaning up after his mess once again. Parker’s expression softened as he squeezed his shoulder and smiled reassuringly as though he could see Sirius’ guilty conscience all over his face.

“Hey, it’s okay kid. No harm’s done. Get some rest”.

Sirius nodded again, looking down at his fidgeting hands. Kid. Parker was only five years older than him, but with a wife and a general sense of direction in his life, those five years quickly felt like 15 between them. Or maybe it was his raging daddy/mommy issues that somehow fucked up his timeline and made him seem younger – issues that he denied with a burning passion, of course. He frowned before looking up at Parker, who watched him intently. Sirius was not particular fond of being watched like that.

“Thanks”, he muttered and stepped out of the car. He looked up at his house with tired eyes. Big and empty, but private. He locked himself in, went upstairs and threw himself fully dressed on the bed, ready for sleep to take over.

Chapter Text

Sirius woke to the god-awful sound of his phone ringing. He groaned at the sunlight stinging in his eyes and answered without looking at the caller-id, expecting it to be Parker. He coughed once, trying to get his voice to work.

“Yeah?”, he asked not opening his eyes. Static sound came from the phone and Sirius frowned. His head was pounding and he vaguely considered if his face was already bruising after his encounter with Scott. He sighed and placed a hand over his eyes, attempting to mentally block out the incident.

“I know he probably asked for it, but did you seriously have to punch our fucking manager in the face last night?! What were you thinking?!”.

Sirius cringed. James’ voice yelled loud through the speakers, and Sirius realized, not checking the caller-id was a massive mistake. Huge even. Fucking Prongs. Sirius groaned again.

“Not now Prongs. I’m sleeping”, and then he hung up and internally cursed James. He could imagine James flipping him off in front of his own phone but couldn’t care less. He buried his face in the pillow and begged for sleep to return. His head was killing him, and he knew at least some part of it was the un-mistakenly come down from yesterday. They hit a bit harder after rehab. Out of practice and such.
The phone rang again no more than 10 seconds later, and Sirius declined without looking. This went on for a while until Sirius’ patience ran out. He shot up in bed, ready to fucking strangle James and anyone he had ever cared about. He grabbed the phone angrily.

“James, you fucking wanker, stop calling and leave me the fuck al –“.

“What a ray of sunshine we are today”.

Sirius froze and then ran his hand down his face. Parker. Of course it was Parker. Typical James to get Sirius in shit situations, even with no communication. Yes, one could argue, that Sirius himself was at fault, but that was not an option. Not right now. He looked down at himself and wrinkled his nose as he remembered going to bed fully clothed.   

“Sorry. I thought you were James”, Sirius sighed and lost his agitated posture. He got out of bed while Parker talked him through the process of saving his ass. While listening, Sirius caught a glimpse of himself while passing the mirror in the bedroom. He frowned and took a step forward. His right eye and cheekbone were bruised. His face was walking evidence of last nights’ actions. Sirius gave himself a tired look before he shrugged and went down the hallway and into the bathroom. The bruises would fade and until then he would be at his house. Preferably alone, if he could get away with it. If fucking Prongs did not use his spare key, that Sirius so desperately regretted ever giving to him. The bastard had probably made several copies by now. Sirius considered if he should change the locks.

“Me and my team have been in contact with Scott and the label. No one is interested in this coming out. Scott signed a contract this morning and was financially compensated for his abrupt termination as manager, which also helped buy his silence”.

Parker stopped talking and Sirius bit his lip nervously. Something he most definitely wouldn’t like was about to be said. He could sense it. Parker continued shortly after.

“However, you are not very popular among the label. They do not care about who did what, but they care about your reputation”. Parker held his breath for a moment. Sirius rolled his eyes. The label didn’t care about his reputation per se, they cared about how it affected the charts, and the number of albums sold. Sirius knew that and he somewhat also accepted it. If they stayed out of his business and private life, he could mostly ignore them. Parker continued.

“We need to get the band a new manager, and we need to do it fast. For that reason, I have already spoken to Peter and James. I have not told them everything”, he quickly assured. Sirius sighed annoyed while leaning against the bathroom sink. He started searching for locksmiths on his phone, as his hope for solitude became smaller and smaller with the mention of his bandmates.  

“I don’t want a manager”, Sirius finally said as Parker had waited for his response. He heard him sigh on the other end and Sirius knew he was pushing his luck. Parker had, once again, saved his ass. He brought him home in the middle of the night, without yelling at him, and then he spent the next hours undoing his mess. Fight his fights with the label and even informing his own fucking bandmates. The only thing Sirius needed to do was fucking agree to whatever Parker had to say.

But he couldn’t and he wouldn’t. He loathed the idea of another person managing him. The possibility of someone getting too close for comfort and learning all his secrets. Hell, not just his secrets but also all the things that was out in the open, if you spent enough time with him – which a manager would do. All his bad habits and unattractive traits would begin to show. The hurting. The loneliness. The vulnerability, that anyone could see, if Sirius let them into his life a little too long. No. He would not give another person the chance to exploit him. He was scared. In every aspect of the word. Scared of being used and misunderstood. Furthermore, he had no desire, whatsoever, to be told what to do. Despite popular belief, he wasn’t a fucking dog.

“Sirius..”. Parkers voice made him snap back into the conversation. He shook his hurting head and momentarily stopped his locksmith search.

“I mean it Parker. I don’t want a manager”. Sirius felt like a child, but he also felt a desperate need to be in control of something for once. Parker let out a frustrated sound.

“Sirius, The Marauders is one of the most famous and popular rock bands in the world. You need a manager. The band needs one. Besides, it’s also a legal requirement in your contract”. Sirius rolled his eyes again. Fucking contract.

“I don’t care, I –“.

“I already spoke to an old friend of mine”, Parker cut him off. Sirius didn’t appreciate that at all. The childlike feeling returned and grew inside of him, and he was dangerously close to stump in the ground like a toddler. He mentally shook himself.

Get over yourself. Don’t throw a fucking tantrum.

Parker continued, unaware of Sirius’ inner monologue. “We studied together before I went to law school. He’s a great guy and very good at his job. He has dealt with…similar situations before”. Parker took a moment to let Sirius process. Not that it made any difference. Sirius’ mind was slowly forming a whirlwind. Parker continued once again.

“You know that Maddox guy from that shitty band who got jail time? He helped him turn things around for their tour once he got out”.

Sirius’ jaw dropped. He was partly impressed as Maddox was one of the most self-destructive dickheads he had ever encountered and partly insulted to be compared to such an utter loser. Classic Sirius, he ended up going with the insulted part.

“What the fuck, Parker! I am nothing like that tone deaf DUI prick!”, Sirius yelled out and before he knew it, he had slammed his fist on the marble sink, causing a radiating pain burning through him. He swore through gritted teeth and shook his hand. Sirius saw red. His heart slammed in his chest, and he didn’t know why. He was just angry. Well, to be honest, he was upset. He was not some problematic “case” who needed to be fixed. Sirius tugged desperately at his hair and started pacing in the bathroom. An overreaction, without a doubt, but he wasn’t exactly in balance lately. Well, was he ever?

And there came the tantrum. Nicely done.

Sirius shook his head at his inner voice to make it shut up.

“I am not comparing you to Maddox, for fucks sake! Will you calm down?”, Parker exclaimed. Sirius was glad he was alone. He was full on pouting. He could feel it. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. But he was mad too.

“His name is Remus Lupin and –“.

Parker was cut off by Sirius’ condescending snort.

“What kind of fucking name is that? Remus? Christ..”. Sirius couldn’t help himself. As so often before, his words came out his mouth without his accept. But he was right, though. The name was weird. Absurd even. Sirius examined his lightly swollen hand. He frowned at the sight.

“Rich coming from you”, Parker replied dryly, and Sirius really should have seen that coming from miles away. His frown deepened but Parker continued.

“Anyway, if you’re done now, I’ve arranged for Remus to meet with us and the rest of the band and hopefully he will agree to be your manager for the time being. Come by my office at 12 and we’ll talk things over with the others”.

Sirius stopped examining his hand and was momentarily lost for words. Parker knew he would protest, so Parker did what he did best – denied him a chance to. Sirius made a dismissive motion with his hand, as if anyone could see him.

“No way in hell I’m meeting anyone today. You may have forgotten, but I’ve had a shit night and I am not leaving this fucking house until sometime next week, so if you-“

“Sirius Orion Black!”.

Sirius swallowed. Shit. Not the full name. He heard an involuntarily small sound escape his throat and he hoped to a god he didn’t believe in, that Parker didn’t hear it. Damn those five years that felt like 15. Damn the daddy issues slowly reaching the surface. Sirius felt his cheeks flush.

“I am not asking you. I am telling you to come. You are in no position to negotiate. Get your ass in my office or I’ll let James come and get you”, Parker scolded. Sirius felt his shoulders drop. Parker had the upper hand, and they both knew it.

“The fucking nerve, I swear to god”, Parker whispered to himself. Sirius rolled his eyes yet again. Defeated. The last thing he needed was to carpool with James. He loved him but today was not the day.

I should have called that fucking locksmith the moment James called this morning.

As they ended the call, Sirius looked at his phone – 11.30. Shit. He quickly showered without touching his sore face too much and put his still wet hair in a messy bun. He searched for his sunglasses for far too long, but he was not leaving without them with the bruising getting darker by the minute. Then he rummaged through several jackets to find his car keys, knowing that he would never make it on time. After almost falling down the stairs, while trying to get his shoes on, he stumbled out the front door, probably looking as messy as he felt. He briefly considered going back inside as the sharp sun met his eyes, but remembering the carpool threat from Parker, he quickly made up his mind.

As Sirius walked through the door to Parkers office, he pushed the sunglasses up in his hair. He was surprised to see only James and Peter sitting at the table. Sirius smirked satisfied with his time management, but before he could praise himself for his accomplishment James interrupted his train of thought.

“Well, you look like utter shit”, he stated matter of factly. Peter tried to hide his laugh with a cough. Sirius glared at them and crossed the room to the table.

“Dickheads”, he muttered as he pulled out a chair and sat down next to James who turned to examine his bruised face. Sirius averted his eyes while James studied him. He knew this would happen, hence the plan of isolation. He knew James. He would never let this slide without a comment. Partly to frustrate the ever-living shit out of Sirius, but also out of pure brotherly compassion. Lately, Sirius wasn’t sure which part he struggled with the most. Sure, James had often seen Sirius with cuts and bruises throughout their lives. But it somehow felt different when those damages were inflicted by his demanding parents, than his own stupid actions. Like Sirius somehow did not manage any self-preservation. But honestly, who should have taught him? On the other hand, despite everything, he managed. He always did. That must count for something. A touch to Sirius’ face shook him back to reality.

“What the hell happened?”, James asked a little softer now and traced a finger along Sirius’ cheekbone. Sirius swallowed at the almost fatherly gesture but recovered quickly as James pushed down on the sore purple skin. Sirius yelped and jumped back in the chair.

“Ow, don’t fucking touch it Prongs!”, he exclaimed and sent James a dirty look while shielding his cheek with his own hand. Peter and James laughed, but was cut off as Parker entered the room with a man following behind him.

Remus.  

Chapter Text

Remus Lupin was fucking good looking. There was no denying it. He was tall with brown hair and warm eyes, their color resembling a mix between caramel and honey. He was calm with a welcoming attitude, but still un-mistakenly professional. His whole demeanor let off a “I’m a nice guy but no bullshit” kind of vibe. In loss for a better word, Remus seemed to be in balance. He was everything that Sirius wasn’t.

Parker greeted them with a nod before turning to Remus. “This is my good friend, Remus Lupin. Remus, this is The Marauders”.

Parker gestured to Peter, James and Sirius at the table. They all stood up and shook Remus’ hand while introducing themselves. When it was Sirius’ turn, a small smile played at the corner of Remus’ lips as they shook hands and Sirius wondered how much Remus knew about him. About everything. He felt a slight paranoia creeping up on him. Sirius didn’t exactly know why, but in a dark and repressed place in his mind, he recognized the need to be liked. It was as simple and as difficult as that. And that internal battle made him instinctively more reluctant to the whole “manager concept”. Especially when the said manager looked like Remus Lupin did.

They all sat down at the table. The band at one side, and Parker and Remus on the other. Sirius noticed the stack of papers in front of Parker and frowned slightly. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair, as Parker began to explain the formalities.
Sirius took the opportunity to do a much-needed mental checkout while resting his eyes on Remus. It felt good. He sighed through his nose as his eyes started to wander. He noticed a bright scar across Remus’ straight nose, and he had well-placed freckles spread across his face. His lips were flush and formed a wolfish smile at something Parker said.

Sirius unfolded his arms and placed an elbow on the armrest to let his chin rest on his closed fist. He let his gaze search down. Remus had broad shoulders, and his breathing came easy and relaxed, mimicking waves at the shore. Sirius eyelids felt heavy at the motion, and he felt something he could not explain form deep inside of him. Almost like a longing for something he did not know. A pull. He did not particular enjoy the sensation. He was running out of mental capacity and not knowing where to put certain feelings or even understand them, was getting tiresome. Not just because of the feelings, but also due to the physical sensations that they left behind in his body and made him say or do things that brought him in shit situations. Things that got him straight to rehab.

No, he didn’t like when other people affected him. Not one bit. It made the constant underlying itch that much harder to ignore. In general, Sirius didn’t like being affected by anything or anyone that was not self-inflicted. Something within his own control. Something he actively chose to be affected by. Drugs, alcohol, music, the audience at their shows or his closest friends. Those things.
But lately, it became increasingly harder to tell which way around things went. Well, since getting back from rehab at least. He was sure what James and Peter would say: that his drug induced actions got him in shit situations. But it wasn’t always true. Not the whole truth at least. Most of the time it actually felt like using was the only way to stop himself from getting into trouble. Into situations, feelings or expectations that he could simply not handle or navigate. Using was not entertainment, not anymore. Shit, sometimes he wondered if it ever was. Now it was just hard to get by without. To cope. Not because of the chemical aspect of addiction, but the emotional part, that “non-addicts” could never begin to understand. It felt like somewhere along the way the world had grown teeth that sunk deep into his flesh and tore him apart. But in the painful reality, Sirius knew, that the world had not gotten harder. He had just gotten weaker. Hence the constant underlying urge for relief. The itch that grew proportionally stronger whenever he felt emotionally challenged. Which was, if he dared to be honest with himself, more often recently.

And Remus Lupin seemed like a very possible threat to his whole ‘emotionally challenged situation’.

Sirius swallowed. Lost in thought, he furrowed his brows and lifted his gaze from Remus’ chest to his face where he was met by a pair of light brown eyes staring directly at him. No, they fucking bore into him. The surprise made his breath hitch in his throat, and he quickly tore his gaze away from Remus’. Sirius crossed his arms over his chest again, attempting to shield himself from the burning eyes opposite from him.

No. No. No.

He could sense James watch him intently, but Sirius refused to meet his eyes. As James turned back around, Sirius caught him, and Peter exchange a quick glance. Whatever that meant.

“Parker and the label filled me in on the situation”. A new voice filled the room and Sirius’ attention immediately snapped back to its owner. Remus continued calmly, while Sirius forced himself to look at him. He wanted out and shifted in his seat.

“But maybe it would be wise for me and Sirius to discuss it further at the right time and place. That is, if you feel comfortable doing so of course”. Remus looked straight ahead at Sirius, and he felt his mouth become dry in an instant. His head felt weird. Empty. Like a complete shut-down, which rarely happened, as Sirius’ mind often sped out of control. The emptiness was something he always longed for. But this was something else entirely. This was nothing like that. This was…this was – he didn’t know what it was. But it wasn’t fucking welcome in his head. 

Comfortable? What did Remus mean ‘comfortable’? When was Sirius’ comfort ever a topic of conversation? I’m not fucking comfortable. I don’t do comfortable.

Comfort seemed like a concept that Sirius was denied since childhood. And he sure as hell was not comfortable right now with Remus looking at him like that. Sirius frowned and unwillingly he started fidgeting under the table. The time passed and he needed to say something, fucking anything. He nodded and forced out a “yeah, sure”, before the situation became more tense. Remus nodded and smiled, small dimples forming in his cheeks.

“Alright, good. Well Parker already said the most important things. For the time being, and only if you sign the contract of course, I will be your manager going forward. When the contract is up, we can discuss future actions from there”. Remus paused and Sirius saw James and Peter nod in agreement. Had Parker said something he should have heard? The emptiness began to dissolve into rapid motion as the world sped up again, matching Sirius’ heartbeat. Remus continued.

“I do have a rule that you should know before agreeing to this partnership. For the last couple of years, I have been brought into people’s lives and careers due to many different circumstances. And I believe that cooperation and trust made the whole difference in the outcomes. However, trust is not easily earned”. Remus paused and looked into Sirius’ eyes. He felt like this part of the conversation was meant for him in particular. But if Remus thought that Sirius would trust him, he shouldn’t hold his breath. Sirius didn’t even trust himself. How the hell would and should he even trust a complete and ridiculously good-looking stranger. No. Not in a million fucking years. Just the thought of it made a cold and challenging smirk form on his lips. A warning. Remus seemed unbothered by this.

“My experience is that it takes at least six months to form a realistic foundation for collaboration. If we do not give each other the necessary time to develop a relation, neither of us will get anything from this arrangement”. Remus sat back and gave them all a long look. No one spoke a word, but James and Peter both came with small nods.

“For this reason, you sign the contract for at least six months. In other words, we are legally bound to work together for the next half a year. Even if we disagree, even if you want to fire me or I want to walk out. We are in this for six months”.

Six months. Bound together. Even if you want to fire me.

Sirius felt his throat begin to tighten as his instincts finally kicked in. What the hell was Parker thinking? Was he thinking? Was anyone? This was fucking dangerous. Remus could destroy them, well he most definitely could destroy him, in the matter of weeks. After this whole Scott situation, which Sirius barely endured for a year, Parker wants to force a complete stranger on him for six months? With no way out? This was most likely the worst thing Sirius could ever imagine would come out of this meeting. He frantically looked at Parker, searching his eyes for a way out. Silently pleading him.

Don’t make me do this.

Parker was already eyeing him calmly. He gave Sirius a quiet nod. Like it should calm his inner storm. It did not. Sirius frowned at him, just barely stopping himself from barring his teeth like some animal. He could feel his own pulse, slamming.

“Sounds reasonably enough?”, James casually said without the intention of getting an answer to his statement. Sirius coughed as he choked on his own saliva.

“Reasonably enough? Are you out of your fucking mind, Prongs?”. Sirius hissed in anger. This was absurd. Even for them. James gave him a confused look before Peter chimed in:

“Pads, it’s only six months. And I think Remus got a good point. Besides, we kind of need him right now. Tour is coming up and without a manager, we’re screwed”. Peter’s eyes looked pleadingly at Sirius. Almost begging him not to make a scene. Begging him to calm down. It only added fuel to his inner fire.

“Only six months? Do you have any idea what could happen in six months? Are you out of your fucking minds?”. Sirius’ voice was loud and accusing, and he did not care in the slightest. His anger was rising at an alarming rate. Peter winced at his cold attitude, but James looked like he was briefly considering throwing Sirius out the window, just to avoid dealing with another one of his temper tantrums. Parker rubbed a hand over his face, bracing himself for any possible outcome. Then James put a hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

“Why are you so upset about this Pads? We’re not trying to-“

“I’m not upset!”, Sirius interrupted and pushed James’ hand off him, not able to stand any physical touch. Controlling his inner chaos was already more than enough. He couldn’t handle anything else disturbing him.  

“Why are you acting like I’m the fucking problem here? We can’t sign a contract on those terms. No one in their right mind would! You can’t force me into this. I won’t let you. I-I don’t want to”. The last part came out way more defeated than Sirius had intended, and he considered just hauling himself out the window, sparing James the trouble throwing him.

The room became quiet for a while, the only noise was Sirius’ angry breathing, which came rough and forcefully from his chest. Peter had no intention of being the first to speak and James simply looked confused. Remus cleared his throat and Sirius forced himself to look at him, his grey eyes burning. He raised a dark eyebrow, challenging him to say something.

“You are not the problem Sirius, but you’ve gotten yourself and the band in problems”. Sirius rolled his eyes at that. Remus ignored him.

“I’m offering to help you. Nothing else. There is no hidden ulterior motive. I’m just doing what I’ve learnt works best. It’s not meant as punishment. I would never suggest this to make your life hard or complicated. I want you to succeed. I want this to work”. Instead of raising his voice or getting angry with him, Remus sat calmly and explained himself, his eyes never leaving Sirius’ dark gaze. And the worst part was, that he came across as sincere. It hit Sirius harder than a slap to the face would have. Remus’ look was steady and determined, holding Sirius in place. But there was a hint of something else too. Something Sirius wasn’t in the right headspace to understand. Something akin to empathy.

Sirius swallowed hard and felt his eyes flicker between Remus and Parker, as he slowly felt outnumbered. He was cornered, so he did, what he did best. He ran.

“I – I need a minute”, he mumbled and stood up from his chair in a quick movement. Then he made a beeline towards the office door, already grabbing his shades from his hair on the way. He vaguely heard Peter and James mumbling something as he left the room.

--- --- ---

Outside the building, Sirius patted his pockets nervously. The empty sensation filling him with anger and made his uneasiness spike. He let out a frustrated groan as his search was fruitless and sat down on a nearby bench. The sun hung lower now and painted the parking lot in a warm orange color. His right leg started jumping up and down, trying to release some of the built-up tension.

In theory, six months was nothing. It really was. Especially in his timeline. But the last six months with Scott had been hell. Just the thought made Sirius sick, and he tried to take a deep breath, ignoring how shaky it was. If he, for once, tried to be honest with himself, he was unsure which part scared him the most. Remus’ expectations of a trusting collaboration (which Sirius knew, he could not deliver), or the fact that he owned his ass for the next six months. Well just that anyone owned him for six months.

He could be more careful though. When the itch became too strong to ignore, which he knew it would somewhere along the line, or the craving for physical intimacy became too much. He could distance himself. It could work. If Remus decided not to fucking end him. Cause this was not just about being outed or ashamed of himself and his total lack of self-preservation. This was about inviting someone in with no going back. And Remus was not playing. Sirius could tell. There was a big fucking chance that Remus had to spend little time with him before all Sirius’ carefully built-up walls came crushing down.

That man can tear you apart if you let him and you know it.

Sirius swallowed. That was the problem. He was unable to stay in line for six months. He was not in control of his own being. He would mess up in one way or another and Remus would know. And then what? What was the biggest problem? The fact that Remus saw sides of Sirius, that he wished no one saw, or the fact that Remus might not like those sides? And he was forced to deal with it head on until six months had passed. A small sound that sounded dangerously close to a whimper escaped his throat.

Fuck.

Sirius lifted his head as he heard the door behind him swing open. Peter and James quietly made their way over to him. Sirius rested his hands on his knees, head hanging, waiting. Then he heard a flick from a lighter, and a cigarette was offered to him. James.

“Take it. Your knee bouncing is making me go insane”, he huffed and sat down on the bench. Sirius muttered a thanks as he took the cigarette. He was trying to quit, hence the empty pockets. But desperate times…

Peter positioned himself on a bench opposite from them and eyed them down before releasing a silent breath. He looked tired. James cleared his throat as Sirius took a deep inhale from the cigarette, not inclined to start any conversation.

“You need to talk to us Pads. This whole thing is clearly messing with your head”. James stated in a neutral tone. Peter nodded along. The parking lot was quiet as the sun began to set. They could hear distant sounds of people talking and children laughing, but between the three of them, the silence stretched out.

“Come on Pads. Please say something”, James begged and tried to catch Sirius’ eyes. Sirius sat up in the bench and sighed. He played with the cigarette between his fingers. Thankful for something to fidget with.

“I’m sorry”, he mumbled and took another inhale before continuing. This was uncomfortable. This was out of his comfort zone, and they all knew it. Peter and James waited patiently for him to find the words.   

“I – Scott, he – fuck“, Sirius sighed and cleared his throat before starting over. The words and feelings were storming inside his mind, and he couldn’t get a hold of them. He tried to connect his feeling to words, or the other way around, but it was hard. Which goes where? In what order? How do people get the right message across? Sirius shook his head slightly, attempting to gain some sort of relief from his inner chaos.

“I got into the fight with Scott because he – he uhm. He said some things – to me”, Sirius cringed at his own pathetic attempt of explaining himself to his own fucking best friends. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench. But he owned them an explanation. He knew that. He just didn’t like it, which made perfect sense since he was also shit at it. Sirius sucked in a short breath.

“Well, he called me some things and – and he knew some things –“

“That you like guys to shag you senseless or what? Can’t be the biggest revelation on planet earth. I mean, taking your sometimes flamboyant attire into consideration. I’m confused as to why people still think you’re straight”. James shrugged nonchalantly and threw his own cigarette on the ground before crushing it under his shoe. Sirius snorted at the unbothered comment, which quite elegantly included an insult as well. Any other day, Sirius would be impressed.

“Wait, James…”. Peter gave them both a confused look. Sirius braced himself but sent Peter a sharp look with one eyebrow raised. Not in the mood to be pushed further. Peter didn’t seem to get the message though, or else he just didn’t give a shit, which was quite possible.

“How do you know that they fuck Sirius and not the other way around though?”, he asked in a tone full of wonder like James had the keys to some deeper secret. Sirius looked at them both in utter disbelief. His eyebrows raised high.

Great. Yes, let’s all discuss whether Sirius tops or bottoms, shall we? Seems like the perfect time to do so as well, since the topic clearly needs to be addressed.

James shrugged and was about to deliberate on the matter, which Sirius was sure to hear another day, but he cut them off with a headshake and a defensive motion with his hands.

“Can we maybe not discuss my sex-life, please?”, he groaned and rubbed his still sore face behind his shades. This was not the day. Well, if Sirius could choose, no day would ever be that day to have this conversation. But his bandmates had always loved to meddle in his business, like he did theirs. James and Peter laughed, and Sirius felt his cheek flush. He reluctantly continued before they could get another word in.

“But, yes. He knew... that and for some reason he, uhm. He decided to use it against me and pointing out…other things as well”, Sirius vaguely explained with a motion of his hand indicating, that he would not go into details. He had no intentions of telling his best mates that he may have broken his sobriety. That would disappoint them in ways that Sirius couldn’t handle. He sucked in a breath.

“He threatened to tell my family and he – well he just made my life hell for a while. Making sure I knew what a complete fuck up I was whenever I messed up and he told me how-“. Sirius took another breath, because this was the one thing in which he actually agreed with Scott. He continued.

“How I was a burden to you guys and to the band. How I might ruin our careers with my…problems”. There. He said it. It was out there, and they would try to convince him otherwise and so on. But when it came down to it, Sirius knew he was a burden. He felt like a burden, even to himself. Nothing Peter, James or Parker said or did would ever change that fact.

“Pads, that’s not –“. James began, but Sirius cut him off with a sharp look.

“Please don’t go there”.

James went silent and glared at him, but Sirius couldn’t care. It was what it was, and it was his own doing. No one could change how he was hardwired inside. That was just part of being a Black. Everything beyond excellence was a disappointment and issues were nothing but burdens and weaknesses. Dramatics even. A shameful thing that should be pushed deep down and never shown to anyone. It was flaws and bad character traits. And Sirius was full of them.

“It’s whatever. Now you know. I’ll sign the bloody contract and then it’s fine. After all, we need that Remus guy, don’t we”. Sirius threw his cigarette at the ground as well before trying to get up and away from the conversation. He had made up his mind. Well, he more likely had given up. He was exhausted. He’s had enough and now he needed a break. A hand that could only belong to James grabbed his arm and forced him to turn around. Before Sirius could protest, James sent him one of his best smiles and pulled him into a tight hug. Sirius groaned at first, his smaller frame being crushed in James’ massive embrace, but soon he gave in and hugged him back. Hiding his face in James’ shoulder and letting him stroke his hair. A total sign of “everything is okay and forgiven” between them. Peter just shook his head in the background, not giving a damn about them. The physical bond between James and Sirius had always been unique, and Peter had never been interested in joining in. He looked thoughtful for a moment, before he spoke:

“But…how do you know James? I mean about the shagging?”. Sirius quickly released himself from James, took one of his boots off and threw it at Peter who quickly dodged.

“Will you shut up about it!”, he yelled. James laughed so hard he almost cried, and Peter just shrugged his shoulders, like the boot-throw was a complete overreaction to a natural question. Sirius rolled his eyes, and a smile appeared on his own face as Peter threw his boot back to him.

They walked back to the office with the setting sun warming their backs, but Sirius still couldn’t shake a tiny voice warning him.

This can end badly. This can hurt you.

Chapter Text

Remus did not know if James’ suggestion of going out was a good idea. He suspected that he tried to smooth things over after Sirius had lost it in the office earlier this week. The three Marauders had returned to the office and signed the contract without another word. The mood had seemed significantly lighter, but still, Remus sensed a storm brewing in Sirius’ grey eyes. He had never seen anyone so reluctantly sign anything as Sirius did that day. But beside the clear protest in his demeanor, Remus saw something else as well. An unspoken plea from the dark-haired man as he looked up at Remus, pen in hand: Don’t make me regret this.

Remus did not know a lot about Sirius. Well, he knew what most did. That Sirius came from an extremely wealthy and strict family and was disowned years ago due to reasons unknown to the public. That did not keep the press from speculating though. The theories ranged from criminal tendencies to deviating behavior of all sorts. All subjects which, whether they were true or false, were highly uncomfortable being discussed in the daily news. The final nail in Sirius’ coffin was one of his parents’ press releases, which was laced with nothing but coldness and criticism towards their son and everything associated with him. They ripped him to shreds. Very public and very destructive shreds. When Sirius, unsurprisingly, went to rehab shortly after, the press had had a field day following his every move until he disappeared into thin air. And when he finally came back, they had been waiting for him.
Even though Remus did not know Sirius at the time and only followed the spectacle from the sideline, his heart broke for him those days. Sirius was in his mid-twenties then. Just a young man.

When the band really gained their popularity and got their big break, the members shifted from the comfort of anonymity to being public property. And they’ve remained in that position and in that unforgiving and burning spotlight ever since. But somewhere along the way, and under Scotts’ management, things had started going downhill. Remus still vividly remembered the countless photos going around at the time, showing a miserable Sirius Black who very publicly hit rock bottom. He was often depicted shirtless on the street, in front of various nightclubs. Dirty and tripping over himself, held up by a couple of women – mostly women older than himself. Most of the pictures left little to the imagination, as the women touched Sirius between his legs or even had their hands down his pants while others simultaneously grabbed his face to force their tongue down his throat. Other pictures showed Sirius being hauled into a waiting car by his shirt, or Sirius being swarmed by people grabbing and pulling at him, desperate to get something, anything, from the singer. It was more common than not, that Sirius ended up at his or the band’s destination looking completely disheveled in ripped shirts that just barely covered his tattooed torso. It almost became his trademark at the time. Remus remembered how skinny he looked then. All protruding hip- and collarbones. But the eyes had been the worst. They were hazed and with blown pupils, making Sirius’ gaze empty and unfocused. He was a walking shell in those pictures. A good-looking walking shell.  

Remus cringed at the mental image. Sirius had from day one been a sex symbol in the industry. And it was easy to see why. The guy was a force of nature with his wild, untamed, raven black hair. His eyes were a stormy grey, surrounded by long dark lashes. His cheekbones were high and his lips full. He got dark and expressive eyebrows, which he furrowed into his infamous “Black glare” when necessary. His body was toned in a way that made him look sharp and dangerous, like the edge of a knife. As a bonus, his voice was deep and raspy, perfect as the frontman of “The Marauders”. Sirius represented every aspect of the words sex and rock.

But while those pictured screamed rock legend, sex and fame to most people, Remus saw something else. The same thing he saw in Sirius’ grey eyes in the office a couple of days ago. Vulnerability and mistrust. Like a burned child who expected the pain of a flame and now feared the closeness to its warmth. He had tried his best to hide it that day, but to Remus, Sirius had come across like a deer in headlights. But that was not all. Something else lurked beneath the surface. He sensed it in the way Sirius fought like hell to avoid giving Remus the opportunity to scratch it. He just didn’t know what.

It wasn’t his job to know anyway. His job was to get Sirius and the band on the right track. To damage control. To help them manage. Parker had not been joking, when he said, that they needed it. The years under Scott’s management had been chaotic, but it was hard to know if it was the particular time in their careers that had caused the storm, or if it was a general theme.

Remus was pulled out of his thoughts by a message popping up on his phone.

Keep an eye on Sirius tonight, will you? You know what you’re doing, but the kid’s been through it lately.
- Parker. 

Remus smiled at the screen. Parkers fondness for Sirius was palpable. Kid. Remus shook his head while responding.

Really? I haven’t noticed…
I’m still unsure whether this is a good idea, but I tend to agree with James. Maybe we need to spend some time together in other surroundings to break the ice. But seriously Parker, “kid”? What are you? Five years older?
- Remus.

The respond came quick. As always with Parker.

Five years, yes. But the dickhead sure makes it feel like fifty most of the time. Have fun. I’m sure your sarcasm will delight Black.
- Parker.

--- --- --- ---

The club was packed with dancing, sweating bodies as soon as Remus entered. The surroundings were bathed in a dark red light, and it smelled unmistakenly of sweet sticky liquor. He was grateful for being led up the stairs to the more private area, in which the air wasn’t as thick. Their private ‘room’ was more like a recessed space, in which you could avoid curious eyes if you wanted, but without any closed door isolating you from the party. Around the walls stood booths and tables, filled with expensive bottles of champagne, but also various shots, drinks and whiskey. Remus went to the front of the room, from where he could see the dancefloor below.

An exit-door to his right swung open and in came Peter, James and Sirius, with a couple of security guards in tow. They gave Remus a quick nod and left as quickly as they came – waiting outside if they were needed. Which Remus really hoped they wouldn’t be. James and Peter smiled in unison and shook Remus’ hand while greeting him. Sirius kept himself in the background, glancing at the dancing bodies below them, while visibly chewing on his cheek.   

“Well, this looks rather delicious, doesn’t it?”, James exclaimed while rubbing his hands together and eyeing the alcohol behind Remus. He began lifting various bottles, deciding where to start his night. Peter joined in with a satisfied smirk on his lips. Remus refocused his gaze at Sirius and waited for him to meet his eyes. As if suddenly sensing his missing band mates by his side, Sirius looked up reluctantly and Remus gave him a small reassuring smile. A quick furrow between his dark brows came and went, before he swallowed and slowly walked to Remus, stretching out his hand.

“Remus”, he greeted neutrally, almost as if he awaited Remus’ reaction. Remus shook his outstretched hand and gave him another smile.

“Sirius”, he answered, not wanting to push the conversation. Sirius’ features softened a little as the introduction was over with and forced out a lopsided smile. His long, curly hair was partly up, but various wild strands had fled the elastic band and fell loosely around his face. The bruises were almost gone now, just leaving a slight shadow at his right eye and temple. He was dressed in black jeans and a black see-through shirt, which showed of his various tattoos, starting around his collarbones and disappearing down at his waistband. He looked perfect, but a feeling of uncertainty was radiating from him. It made Remus frown slightly in wonder. Standing closer together, Remus now realized that he was almost ten inches taller than Sirius, who despite his well-trained physique, had a rather small frame compared to Remus.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably under his gaze and made a suggestive nod with his chin towards the table behind them. They wordlessly joined James and Peter in their endeavors.

--- --- ---

The alcohol helped. As they all knew it would. Soon the conversation was flowing freely, at least between James, Peter and Remus. Sirius participated as well but did not speak unless spoken to. When the others told stories about the band or their upbringing, cracking jokes on each other expenses, Sirius used the time to throw his head back and down one glass after the other of unknown content. Almost as if he tried to stop an inner fire which was burning him up in record time. Remus let him. For now, at least, as it seemed Sirius’ shoulders dropped significantly in the process, and his smiles appeared more frequent.

“So, you were the manager for “Mad Maddox” when his tour started?”, Peter asked Remus excited. Everyone in the industry knew, what an absolute shitshow Maddox’ situation had been after being arrested for DUI and violence. Not Remus’ favorite collaboration. Not even near it. But they had worked it out quite nicely in the end. Remus nodded.

“Yes, I was. Well, I started as his manager just before his release and then continued for the first leg of the tour”, Remus explained and took a sip of his beer. The Marauders nodded in unison.

“If you can get that crazy wanker straight, then this’ll be a walk in the park. Fucking magic, that is!”, Peter slurred and laughed in disbelief. James chimed in and downed his drink as a form of salute to Remus’ success. Sirius had the smallest smile tugging at the corner of his lips silently watching his band mates.

“Do you know him personally?”, Remus asked, but the three of them were quick to shake their heads. James elaborated.

“No, we’re just acquaintances. Or were. Sirius knew him the best, but we all tried to keep our distance when he got arrested”. Remus nodded and Sirius looked down. If Remus was honest with himself, he was relieved to know, that it didn’t sound like Sirius and Maddox had spent much time together. Something in him knew, that it would have been a catastrophic mix of personalities. Sirius poured himself another glass with a pained expression and immediately downed it like his life depended on it, wincing in the process.

Okay…so maybe they had spent some time together. For fuck’s sake.

“We appreciate your help Remus, really”, James said, and Peter nodded beside him. Then one of them visibly kicked Sirius under the table, almost making him choke on his next glass.

“We do”, he quickly agreed without meeting anyone’s eyes. He suddenly looked small, almost ashamed. Remus couldn’t blame him. It hung unsaid between them. That Sirius was the reason for this. James nudged Peter and made a quick nod to the exit-door, tapping on his pocket. They stood up, leaving Remus and Sirius behind. Remus knew all too well, that it was a well-planned smoking break, giving Remus and Sirius the opportunity to talk in private. Remus was already starting to sense some sort of dynamic in the group, and James’ social abilities were as clear as day. Sirius’ on the other hand was still quite questionable. Remus turned to him, half expecting Sirius to look like an abandoned puppy, but he was met with piercing grey eyes, starring directly into his own.

“I’m not friends with Maddox”, Sirius said in a tone which left no space for questioning. It wasn’t what Remus had expected, but he hadn’t really expected Sirius to say anything at all. Remus nodded, not looking away from Sirius’ eyes.

“Okay”, he answered calmly. Sirius watched him. Assessing whether to push the issue or not. He searched Remus’ face for signs indicating, that he didn’t believe him. Then he let out a quiet exhale and nodded. Then he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Remus leaned back as well, allowing Sirius some distance between them.

“I’m glad you agreed to sign the contract”. Sirius tensed visibly at Remus’ words and crossed his arms even tighter. Remus had expected as much, but they needed to start somewhere. Sirius bit his lip for a split second before sending Remus a cold smirk.

“Happy to be in my company for the next six months, yeah?”, he asked. His tone a mix of sarcasm which was useless on Remus. He had worked with his fair share of famous people, not wanting, or even having the ability, to let other people in. This was not his first rodeo, and Sirius would learn that along the way. Remus shrugged.

“Well, yes. I’m looking forward to getting to know you and working together”, he answered, which was as true as it got. Remus really wanted this to work out, and he wanted to do his part. Sirius’ expression darkened. His facial features hardened, and his jaws clenched tightly together.

“That’s because you don’t know me”. It came dark and flat from the opposite side of the table. It was honesty in its purest form. There was no denying, that it was what Sirius believed to be true. But it was also what he wanted Remus to believe. Again, Remus had been here before. But it was the first time he experienced, that the person saying those words, actually believed them themselves, and not just used them to hold other people at an arm’s length.

“No, I don’t, but we we’ll get to know each other. In time”, Remus answered. Ignoring the coldness radiating from Sirius. Then something flashed across his face. If Remus had blinked, he would have missed it. But he saw it. The look of utter vulnerability and hesitation. It was so clearly there but then quickly and skillfully masked under the surface. As if Sirius knew exactly how to rearrange his face. Remus could feel his own expression soften at the realization. Sirius was actively struggling. Even now. Maybe all the time, but no one saw it. Which was probably how Sirius preferred it.   

Suddenly, Sirius leaned forward, looking straight at Remus. This close, Remus could see Sirius’ eyes were starting to lose their focus, flickering softly.

Well, the liquor had to hit at some point.

He let out the smallest sigh before speaking: “I’m not sure…that I can…”. He began to drag out his words, clearly more drunk than first anticipated. Remus braced himself for a busy night, deciding not to drink more himself. Sirius swallowed hard, forcing out a breath before focusing in on Remus again. He shifted in his seat before resting his crossed arms on the table. Leaning more forward, almost touching forehead with Remus. Sirius was shaking slightly, shuddering. But it was forced away with another hard swallow. Then he continued to force his eyes to focus on Remus’. The stubborn bastard refused to acknowledge that he was too drunk to function, let alone have a meaningful conversation. But Remus took what he could get, even if it was a shitfaced Sirius Black, who thought he could force his own body and mind into submission after trying to alcohol poison it.

“I’m not sure, that I can give you…what you want. I don’t know h-how”. A pause, then another shudder followed by an even harder swallow. Clearly very uncomfortable, Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, wincing as if in pain. As if waiting for a blow or something hurtful to come his way. Remus furrowed his brows in confusion. This was something different. This was, well Remus quite honestly didn’t know what the fuck this was and what he was supposed to do with it. And then it dawned on him. This was Sirius Black. A fucking force of nature, slowly ripping itself apart. It did something to him. No, Sirius did something to him. Remus could feel it grow in his chest. A weird kind of fondness, that was not justified in any sense, since he did not know or have any relation to the younger man in front of him. But his heart did not seem to care - it was unmistakenly there. Remus could feel his own expression soften and without having allowed his body to move, he reached across the table for Sirius’ clenched fists. Remus held around them, cupped them in a firm grip and slowly brushed over the tattooed skin with one of his thumbs.

It sent a visible jolt through Sirius, who jerked his head up in an instant, looking at Remus with big wide eyes and lips slightly parted. He looked completely taken aback by the sudden touch, but he kept his hands in Remus’, frozen in place.

He is fucking beautiful. Wait, what?

Remus frowned and internally shook himself. Don’t fucking swoon at him – and especially not when he’s clearly not keeping his cool. Remus had never felt anything else than friendliness and professionalism towards his previous clients, but right now, holding Sirius’ trembling hands, he felt an all-consuming desire to comfort him. A part of him even felt strangely capable to do so as well.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m not asking or expecting anything from you. We’ll make this work, all of us – together”. Remus’ voice was low and calm. Trying to ease Sirius’ obvious tension. His grey eyes never left Remus’, and between hasty blinks they started to fill with unshed tears.

No, don’t do that you beautiful idiot.

Remus’ heart sunk. Those big, beautiful, pained eyes tore right through him, and he momentarily forgot how to breathe. Sirius bit down hard on his lower lip to prevent it from trembling, as he made a small, strained sound. It almost ruined Remus. God, he looked so young like that. So adorable. And so fucking sad. He wanted to cradle him in his lap and stroke his long, curly hair – which was a big fucking problem. Remus cleared his throat, determined to escape the puppy dog eyes, before they did further damage. 

“Maybe we should get you home”, Remus suggested with soft determination. He had a feeling that keeping Sirius here for much longer would end up badly, for both of them. The suggestion somehow brought Sirius back to the surface, as he withdrew his hands to forcefully rub at his eyes. It broke the spell between them, and he looked away as he nodded slowly.

“Think so”, he agreed.

---- ---- ----

“Keys”, Remus said, his frustration growing by the second now. He had Sirius’ left arm slung heavily over his own shoulders, and with his own right arm, he held Sirius in a firm grip around his slim waist.

“Wha-at?”, Sirius slurred and tried to look at Remus from under his long lashes, but his eyes swam, and his head rolled to the side, curly hair falling over his forehead. Remus controlled the urge to leave the bloody furball behind and sighed.

“Your keys, Sirius”, he repeated frustrated and stretched out a waiting hand. A grumbling and protesting sound came from the smaller man, who fished deep in his jeans for the house keys. Remus could swear he heard the drunk idiot mummering something unpleasant under his breath.

After a quick text to James, Remus had half carried, half pushed, Sirius into a cab. His legs had shown to be surprisingly unsteady as they got up from the table. They were now facing Sirius’ front door, waiting for the singer to locate his keys.
The house was impressive. Almost like a small mansion, if that even existed. But being in the industry for years, Remus had seen many expensive houses and apartments by now. It was more the pristine look of the place, that surprised him the most, since Sirius appeared to be anything but. A rattling sound caught his attention, and Remus snapped the keys right out of Sirius hand, not giving him the opportunity to try and unlock the door himself. Remus simply didn’t have the patience, or the belief that Sirius was capable to do so. That earned him a sour look, but Remus ignored him entirely and unlocked the door in a quick motion. Then he yanked Sirius up by the waist and walked inside.
Remus rummaged blindly for a switch or a lamp, swearing under his breath as Sirius slumped at his side. He finally found a lamp on a small table around the corner and a warm, soft light lit up the room. Remus did not know, what he had expected Sirius’ Black living room to look like, but the clean and well-kept impression the house had given from the outside, was quickly replaced by controlled chaos on the inside. He could see evidence of Sirius everywhere, as he seemed to have a tendency of leaving discarded things behind him like a trail of footprints.
The room was gigantic and the ceiling high above their heads. In the middle stood a group of couches and a coffee table, filled with mugs, glasses, a squashed pack of cigarettes, an open notebook and stacks of magazines. A guitar was leaning at one of the sofas. At the far back of the room, a black kitchen with a big kitchen ailed appeared – seemingly untouched. A large round dining table stood in the corner. The whole right side of the room was made of glass from top to bottom, showcasing the city lights below them. The opposite wall was filled with large bookcases, a record player and various posters. Jackets and shoes were scattered around the room and bottles of wine and half empty glasses of whisky popped out at random places.

“Where’s the bedroom?”, Remus asked and readjusted his grip around Sirius’ waist, which was now skin to skin, as Sirius’ constant shuffling had pushed the thin shirt fabric above Remus’ hand. Sirius’ skin was surprisingly soft, and Remus was close to stroking it with his thumb but was pulled back to the present by a snort.

“Bossy, but then again, I’m used to people wanting to take me to bed”. A smirk that quickly broke into a boyish smile appeared on Sirius’ face and Remus rolled his eyes.

This guy is unbelievable and so are his fucking mood swings.

Remus raised a questioning eyebrow down at Sirius who sighed in surrender.

“Upstairs”, he answered with a nod of his chin towards the staircase to their right. Remus rolled his eyes again. Of course, the idiot had his bedroom upstairs, at the end of the fucking longest staircase on the planet. Well, it seemed long, when Sirius’ body was threatening to knock them both over any second and the dickhead wouldn’t stop moving. Remus, once again, readjusted his grip around Sirius, preparing to climb the stairs with his deadweight dragging along. Sirius growled.

“Stop pushing!”, he complained and tried to free himself from Remus’ grasp.

“Stop squirming! And I’m not pushing you. You’re almost knocking both of us over!”, Remus exclaimed, dangerously close to get Sirius a new black eye, but before he could pursue the idea any further, Sirius lost his balance, falling towards the staircase and taking Remus down with him. He landed on his back with Remus towering over him, elbows at either side of his stupid face. Sirius’ breath came quick through parted lips and his eyes were wide in surprise as he looked up at Remus. Remus scowled down at him. Clenching his jaws tightly as his patience officially ran out.

“Alright, that’s fucking it!”, Remus yelled and pushed himself up from Sirius, who still looked up at him in confusion, brows furrowed. As Remus bend down over him, Sirius’ frown deepened, a quick flicker of something close to fear crossed his features. He held out his hands.

“What are you – woah woah woah!”, Sirius squealed as Remus took a hold of his waist and slung him forcefully over his right shoulder. Sirius collapsed like a rag doll and let out an audible huff as the air was kicked out of him. In pure instinct he started kicking his legs in protest, but Remus held him still with a firm hand on his lower back and started ascending the stairs.

“Fuck, Remus, st-stop! Put me down now!”, Sirius commanded from the back. Remus did not even bother to give him an answer, which only resulted in even more squirming, and leg-kicking accompanied by a long string of profanities.  
At the end of the stairs, an open door led the way to the bedroom, which was even more chaotic than the living room. Remus stepped over piles of discarded clothes and stood at the foot of the king size bed. He placed both hands on Sirius’ hips and threw him hard enough to make the younger man bounce on the mattress as he landed on his back. The bewildered, angry look on his face, as he sat up on his elbows, was pure bliss for Remus. He relished in Sirius’ utter disbelief and Remus raised a challenging eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back at a dresser. Sirius’ curly hair was a mess, and his cheeks were red from hanging upside down. Remus could see his chest rise and fall in quick waves as he tried to catch his breath.

“What the fuck Remus?”, he finally exclaimed from the bed, as he had gathered himself. Remus just shrugged and smirked at Sirius.

“That’s what you get for being an absolute brat”, he answered sternly. Sirius visibly swallowed; the red color of his cheeks deepened, and he shifted slightly in the bed. Remus smiled, satisfied with the reaction his words had pulled from Sirius. Then he scanned the room. It looked like a teenage girl had had a wardrobe crisis. A smirk played on his lips.

“Had trouble finding anything to wear?”, Remus asked in a teasing tone as he nodded at the piles of clothes covering the bedroom floor. Sirius’ expression went from annoyed to confused to annoyed again in a matter of seconds. He sat up in the bed and looked at the clothes as well. Then he shrugged.

“I did, actually. But found this, though”, he admitted and looked down at himself, tugging at the shirt. Remus hummed and scrubbed his chin, before gesturing to Sirius with his hand.

“Well, it’s a nice shirt - suits you”, he said matter of factly, the annoyance slipping away. The statement made Sirius look up at Remus in surprise. His dark brows were slightly raised in question. He looked so fucking good, sitting in his bed, messy and confused. And well, quite drunk too. Remus’ gaze fell on Sirius’ chest, where the see through shirt showed off his shallow breathing. It really was a nice shirt.

“You think so?”, Sirius asked. His voice was lower now and his grey, swimming eyes were filled with honest and pure doubt. Remus smiled despite himself and nodded as he took a step towards the bed.

“Of course. You look great”, Remus answered as he sat down on the edge. A small smile played at the corner of Sirius’ lips. He looked down, fidgeting as he mumbled a thanks. They were quiet for a while, but then Sirius sighed and started to kick off his shoes. He then proceeded to unbutton his shirt with lightly trembling fingers. He muttered under his breath as the small buttons refused to cooperate with his drunk hands. Remus swatted them away which earned him a frustrated groan.

“No, I can – “. Remus cut him off with a quick glance.

“Clearly”, he answered dryly. “I’ll do it”, then he started working on the first button. Sirius let out a small sound, and let his hands fall at his sides in defeat. When Remus reached to the middle of the row of buttons, he accidentally brushed Sirius’ exposed skin. Sirius sucked in a breath and looked away. Remus glanced up at him, unsure of what it meant, but couldn’t catch his eyes. He continued to unbutton the shirt in silence. Sirius released a shaky breath and cleared his throat. His eyes were focused down at Remus’ working hands.

“You look great too, you know. More than great. I think you look hot – well, I mean, you look –“. Remus let out a small laugh, cutting off Sirius drunken rambling.

“I’m your manager”, Remus answered with a smile and a raised eyebrow. His hands rested at one of the shirt buttons. Sirius frowned slightly.

“So? Managers can be hot”, he said and shrugged, which made Remus let out a barking laugh. He wordlessly continued to unbutton Sirius’ shirt.

 “There”, he said as he finished the last button and sat back, looking at Sirius. The shirt hung loosely at the smaller man’s shoulders, exposing his tattooed skin. He shuddered slightly as he shrugged off the thin fabric.

Remus’ gaze lingered at Sirius’ shirtless torso. The night had been weird and confusing. Just as he seemed to detect which mood or which emotion Sirius was expressing, it changed into something else right before his eyes. It was an ongoing task keeping up with Sirius, but now his own mind was starting to rebel against him as well. The only solution was to shut it out. Yes, Sirius was devilishly handsome, and for some reason he thought Remus was “hot”. That did not mean anything. For all Remus knew, Sirius was straight. He had never seen him with a guy. Besides. The man was shitfaced, unpredictable and in crisis. The world would look completely different tomorrow and this thing or whatever the hell this was, would disappear. Remus cleared his throat as he got up from the bed and grabbed an armchair. He dragged it to the corner of the room and sat down.

“Get some sleep starshine. I’ll stay the night and make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit”.

Chapter Text

Sirius sighed and felt his shoulders drop as the hot water streamed down his back. He hung his head, rested it against the cool tiles and let the water soak through his hair. A groan escaped his lips as he tried to repress the remnants of his dream filled sleep. But the sensations had stayed in his body from the moment he woke up in his bed. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, as he tried to become one with the flowing water, forgetting his mind and body. But the warmth only added to the buzzing feeling in his stomach and from there it travelled south, the water slicking down, leaving an unsatisfied need behind that he did not appreciate at all. Mental images pushed their way into his retinas. Forcing themselves to the front of his mind, demanding his attention.

Buttons. An everlasting row of buttons but still not long enough. And roaming hands. Remus’ hands, ghosting over his exposed skin. Then suddenly a tearing of his shirt and a firm grip of his waist. Hands stroking up and down his sides, leaving goosebumps in their trails. And as they went further down touching him where he most needed it, wet lips found their way to his neck. Biting down at the delicate skin below his ear. Another hand in his hair, tugging tightly and pulling noises from him no one ever hears.

Sirius’ eyes snapped open. Fuck. He had wanted to be touched so badly last night. Remus helping him out of his shirt had no business getting him so worked up. It was fucking pathetic. But in all fairness, it had been a while since he had gotten laid. He was touch starved for sure, which James had always mended when they were younger. Letting Sirius sleep next to him, cuddling so close that he almost nested under James’ skin.

Sirius turned off the shower and stepped out on the cold marble floor. Luckily the armchair Remus had spent the night in was empty as he had awoken from his dream with a jolt. Sirius would not have survived, had Remus overheard him fucking moaning his name in his sleep. He trotted back to the bedroom and put on a way too big sweatshirt and loose black pants. He couldn’t find the will to dry his hair and went for the stairs with water dripping slightly from the end of his curls. As he walked downstairs, Sirius rubbed at his face, cursing himself for his nightly self-sabotage.

“You look great too, you know. More than great. I think you look hot”. What the fuck was that? 

Sirius fought the urge to slap himself and started making a mental list of things to do to get rid of his inner restlessness – getting laid being one of them. A noise from the kitchen made him jump. He searched for its origin, his grey eyes landing on Remus.

“Jesus! What the fuck, Remus. A little warning next time would be nice”, he sighed and tried to shake the nagging feeling of being out of place in his own home. Sirius despised being taken by surprise, but being surprised by the very same face that had kept him aching all night was just unfair. Remus laughed softly at his reaction as he poured coffee into two cups.

“Sorry. I thought you remembered that I stayed the night. Didn’t mean to scare you”, he said with a warm smile and eyes too kind for his own good. Sirius huffed as he walked towards the kitchen, scratching the back of his neck.

“You didn’t scare me. And I do remember, but the chair was empty when I woke up, so I assumed you had left”.

Remus sent him a look that he could not detect the meaning of.

“You thought I’d leave without saying goodbye?”, Remus asked and pushed a coffee cup across the kitchen isle. Sirius sat down and held the warm cup in his hands. He eyed Remus for a second, before locking his gaze at the brim of his cup.

“Wouldn’t be the first time”, Sirius shrugged and took a sip. For some reason, Remus frowned at him, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to understand why. When it came down to it, he didn’t really care if people left after spending the night. Most of the time, he felt relieved that they didn’t expect anything more from him. Then he could also lick his wounds and regret the poorly decisions he’d made in peace – if James and Peter let him. But today he was faced head on with the feelings that had consumed him all night. Remus watched him silently with those fucking burning eyes.

“How are you feeling?”, he asked as Sirius tried to shove unwelcome thoughts away. Thoughts he should not have - of Remus doing things to him and Sirius letting him. He heard his own voice answer without telling it to.

“Could be worse”, he said as his gaze unwillingly lingered on Remus. Travelling down his chest and up again, landing on his strong shoulders. The same shoulders he had flung Sirius over like he was weightless, before tossing him forcefully on the bed, telling him off, calling him a brat.

Fuck.

Sirius’ mouth went dry. That had done things to him that mortified him to his very core. Sirius swallowed and his eyes fluttered up to Remus’ face. He looked good. His hair was a bit messy from sleeping in the armchair and he looked tired, but for some reason he was the embodiment of comfort, if Sirius should imagine what the feeling would look like. At least to him. God, he wanted to lean into that comfort, and let’s be honest, Sirius was used to getting what he wanted by now. So, denying himself this was just torture. He tilted his head slightly to the side, assessing Remus once more. His freckles and the white scar across his nose, which gave him a boyish but dangerous look. Sirius’ head hummed pleasantly. Maybe just a little bit of casual fun. Just to ease the dull pain and then he could move on. He could work with that, blurred lines and all. Yes he could definitely work with that. Remus had complimented him last night. He was the one who got close. Did he want this?

Stop it.

Sirius frowned. It didn’t really matter. If Sirius temporarily gave in to his own self-destructive demons and his stupid fantasies, then he would be screwed. Remus would be in his life for the next six months, no matter what. And he would come close. He would eventually be able to break Sirius down and then sit with information no one should have on him. Remus could ruin him if he decided to. He could make Scott look like a fucking saint in comparison.

No. No amount of sex, fantasies or just plain comfort was worth taking that risk. No way in hell. Besides, Sirius read too much into it. This was all in his head and Remus had just been friendly. God, he really needed to get out of his head. The itch was slowly building inside of him, scratching underneath his skin. He lightly tried to shake the feeling out of him.

I need something and I need it very fucking soon or I’ll lose my fucking mind.

“Hey, starshine. You alright? You look a bit pale”.

Starshine?

Remus’ voice tore through his mind and Sirius’ eyes snapped up to meet his. He quickly nodded, clearing his throat and waved a dismissive hand, hoping that it would distract Remus from seeing the beginning flush that crept up his neck. Sirius choked down a traitorous sound and breathed out.

“’m fine”.

Remus nodded slowly, clearly not convinced in the slightest.

“I like your house”, Remus then said and looked up at the high ceiling. “It’s very light and spacious”. Sirius momentarily forgot his inner turmoil and answered Remus without much thought.

“Makes sense if you’d seen my depressing piece of shit childhood home”, he said dryly, shrugging his shoulders and following Remus’ gaze up the ceiling. Remus sucked his gaze back on Sirius and furrowed his brows. He opened his mouth but was cut off by the sound of the front door being unlocked. Sirius swore under his breath, eyes at the ceiling. He could never catch a fucking break. Not even in his own god damn house. He just barely refrained from growling through gritted teeth when James called out to his turned back, making him tense.

“Hey Padsie! Didn’t expect you to be up so soon. How are you feeling mate?”. Sirius only huffed in response, not interested in having any conversation. James made his way over to the kitchen, but stopped a few feet away from them, only now seeing Remus standing opposite Sirius.

“Oh, hey Remus. You stayed the night?”, he asked tentatively, and Sirius rolled his eyes at the slight teasing in his voice. He did not have the slightest urge to turn around and face James and he sent Remus a pained expression despite himself. Remus chuckled quietly, the sound sending heat down Sirius’ spine. He bit his lip and locked his gaze at his lap, silently praying for the ground to open and swallow him. He wasn’t embarrassed, but he felt like being taken in something he shouldn’t be. In something out of his control. Especially when he’d been fighting his own body and mind since last night, and he knew that James would at least detect some part of it. Hence the turned back.

“Yeah, just had to make sure that this one was alright”, Remus answered in a friendly tone. He then sat his cup down and walked around the kitchen isle. As he reached Sirius, he placed a warm, firm hand on his neck, squeezing lightly. His fingers buried in the hair in his neck. Sirius swallowed, demanding his body not to react in a shudder. He glanced sideways at Remus, who smiled innocently at him, like he wasn’t fucking turning him on - and in front of James. Remus’ walm palm was fire against his sensitive skin and he just barely resisted the urge to tilt his head backwards, so Remus’ hand could fist around his hair. Sirius blinked hard and let out a sigh through his nose. He could swear that he felt Remus’ thumb stroke his neck just a mind blowing second and then it was gone, leaving Sirius wanting more.

More, more, more.

“I need to get going”. Remus released Sirius from his burning grip and patted James on the back as he went for the front door. “I’ll be seeing you guys in a few days, discussing the upcoming shows, yeah?”. James nodded enthusiastically.

“You’ve got it!”, he yelled back. Sirius was still facing away, fighting the blush that had formed on his face. He heard the front door open and close a moment later. Then silence. It was just a couple of seconds, but enough to make his skin crawl with anticipation. He knew James, and his fucking need to stick his nose into Sirius’ business. The fucker just couldn’t help himself. A low whistle emerged from behind Sirius, and James slowly walked up beside him, eyeing him suggestively with a raised eyebrow.

“So, spending the night with Remus, huh?”. Sirius felt the sudden urge to punch James’ smirking face.

“He slept in a fucking chair, Prongs”. Sirius sighed annoyed and turned towards the couch while running a hand through his still damp hair, trying to escape James. Of course, his friend followed right behind him, snickering.

“Oh how very unfortunate for you my dear Pads. Is that the reason for your delightful mood this morning?”. James’ singsong voice pushed all Sirius’ buttons, exactly like James knew it would. Sirius slumped down in the couch, groaning as he buried his face in his hands. James threw himself on the opposite couch, watching him.   

“No, Prongs. You are”, he answered tiredly and glared at James who sent him a broad smile in return. No way in hell was he admitting to the unsatisfied state of his body since Remus helped him out of his shirt, ghosting over his skin with his fingers.  He could barely admit to himself how much his body yearned for more.

“Hurtful”, James answered with sarcasm and placed a hand on his chest, faking a disappointed look. He quickly recovered though, and spread out on the couch, feeling home, before announcing.

“Peter is on his way. We need to look over some lyrics before the pre-tour shows. Better warm up that raspy voice of yours”. James took his phone out and quickly typed something before showing it back into his jean pocket. Sirius frowned and vaguely remembered turning his own phone off last night, which was now biting him in the ass, in the form of James Potter using his spare key to intrude.

“And you choose today of all days to do that? Never mind telling me, that my house is the fucking meeting spot?”. Sirius scowled and rubbed at his temples. A headache was starting to form. James shrugged carelessly.

“Not our fault that you can’t handle your liquor”. Then a pause before his eyes sent Sirius a mischievous look. “Or that you’re grumpy from missing out on some physical one-on-one time with Remus”. James winked and Sirius could quite honestly not remember when James began to be so fucking insufferable. He breathed in, ready to insult the living shit out of James, but was interrupted by the front door – again. Sirius rolled his eyes and sank back in the couch, defeated.

“Hey dickheads”, Peter called out from the hall, kicking his shoes off before making his way over to them, guitar case in one hand. Sirius flipped him off and crossed his arms over his chest. Peter questioningly raised his eyebrows at the insulting gesture and looked at James as he placed his bass against the wall. He then positioned himself in the third couch, between Sirius and James.

“Nice to see our songbird is in a pleasant mood today”, Peter remarked and looked between the two of them.

“Remus stayed the night and now Pads’ sexually frustrated”, James informed as if he knew everything there was to know about the situation. If there even was a situation, which there was not. Peter raised his eyebrows once again and looked eager to get in on some harmless fun on Sirius’ behalf. Sirius rubbed his face in frustration before leaning forward, elbows resting on his legs. He sent them both a cold look.

“Can you two idiots, please, for the love of god stop speculating in me having some weird sexual desire towards our fucking manager and then get on with whatever the hell we need to do today?”. Sirius felt the lie on a level so deep that he almost felt dirty, but his bandmates were in no position to assume anything, and he was too tired to tolerate their banter. James and Peter shared a look, laughing.

“Oh, its not speculation mate! It was written all over your face in the office that day!”, James exclaimed. Sirius froze and eyed him carefully, before his attention turned to Peter who joined in:

“You were seriously eye-fucking him Pads. I admire your shameless approach, though”. James laughed until he was wheezing at Peter’s remark. Sirius looked between them in disbelief.

“I did not ‘eye-fuck him’”, he shot back, doing quotation marks with his fingers. His denial and indignant expression only made his bandmates laugh even harder. James got up from the couch and patted Sirius on the back, making his way to the studio.

“It’s alright Padfoot. He’s proper fit, I’ll give you that. And it has been a while since you’ve last gotten some, hasn’t it? You always get particularly moody when that’s the case”. Sirius leapt up from the couch, hurling himself at James who quickly fled the scene.

--- --- ---

“OW! Ow, ow, ow, stop that, ow! Parker! Come get your offspring, will you?”, Sirius desperately called out as Parkers’ two-year-old son was tugging at his black curls, using his hair to balance himself on his wobbly legs. The child was climbing all over him, which he should have predicted once he decided to sit on the floor with the little human. Peter and James laughed at the other end of the office, as Sirius’ call interrupted their conversation with Remus. Parker walked around the table and scooped up his son in his arms. The child pouted, threatening to let out a cry of anger.

“Oh, that stupid grumpy man, huh”, he cooed to his son, cradling him in his arms. The kid had the audacity to look offended, like he was the one who’d been so violently assaulted. Sirius huffed.

“’m not grumpy. He was fucking ripping it from my head!”. Sirius rubbed at his burning scalp, sending Parker and his son an accusatory look.  

“Language!”, Parker corrected and covered the child’s ears. Sirius rolled his eyes and got up from the floor, clearly done trying to befriend the little monster. A soft chuckle that could only belong to Remus reached his ears as he slumped down in a chair next to the others. Maybe he was a little grumpy. He had slept like shit for days. But he wasn’t sure that his well-rested self would have responded much different to the small terrorist.

And he’s good with kids too.

A mocking voice sarcastically teased in his head. Sirius sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, and leaned back in the chair. James laid an arm around his shoulders.

“You look tired Pads. Aren’t you sleeping well?”, he asked in that soft tone that always warmed Sirius from the inside and out. That voice was one of the best sounds in the world. It swooped around Sirius, hugging his strained heart like it had done so many times since they were kids. But it had one downside. It disarmed him and smoothed out his agitated edges, leaving him somewhat compliant, even though he didn’t want to. Sirius slumped further in the chair and ran a hand through his hair.

“Not really”, he muttered in confession and rubbed his eyes. What was the point of lying? James saw right through him. He rubbed a soothing hand on Sirius’ back.

“I’m sorry mate. Anything we can do?”.

Sirius shook his head, forcing back a yawn.

“Nah, it’s fine. It’ll pass”, he said dismissively, fully aware that Remus’ eyes lingered on him and threatened to burn through his skin. It made him shift in his seat.
James knew the content of his nightmares when they were kids, as they always consisted of Sirius’ parents beating the living shit out of him or hurting him even more with their condescending words. James had been woken by Sirius’ cries and then comforted him through the night more than both could count. But as they grew up and later gained fame when they formed the band, the content of Sirius’ nightmares evolved. Now his parents weren’t the only things that haunted him at night. Now it was also the memories of his own limit-seeking actions with the public as a judgmental spectator. He felt the memories pull him in, and quickly raised from his chair, shutting the images out.

Sirius was well aware why his sleep was suddenly torn further into pieces. He had expected as much with the pre-tour arena shows approaching. The last time he performed he was high out of his mind more than he was not, and now he was facing touring without the comfort of using. He was stripped of his coping mechanisms, and it scared the shit out of him. So, it was no surprise that he spent the nights twisting and turning in his bed and when sleep finally reached him, it was filled with memories which left him nauseated and exhausted in the morning.

His addiction had spiked the minute he switched from enjoying the chemical alteration of his noisy brain and got dependent on using just to function. It went from giving him an extra gear to being a necessity for keeping him going at all. Now he was lost somewhere in the middle, not quite sure what to expect from himself anymore.

The Marauders had agreed to kick-start their tour with four arena shows to test out their new set-up and easing into the new collaboration with Remus before they headed off on the road for real. In someways it may very likely be a “Sirius test” as well, but that thought was pushed away before Sirius could dwell too much on it.

Leaving the office, he made a decision. He needed to be prepared, whatever the hell it took.

Chapter Text

Remus had never met a person as contradictive as Sirius Black. As the dark haired male stepped backstage before the first show of The Marauders’ pre-tour gigs, all air was suddenly sucked out of the room. Remus could not look away, even if he wanted to. Sirius looked all consuming. His whole demeanour was powerful and dark. He was dressed in ripped black jeans that hung dangerously low on his tattooed hip bones. His chest was exposed, as he wore an unbuttoned black shirt with short sleeves, showing off a hell of a lot more tattooed skin. His slim fingers were covered in ink, black nail polish and chunky silver rings. Remus absentmindedly licked his lips, as his gaze travelled up, examining Sirius’ neck and face. His stormy grey eyes were even darker around the edges as a black line was drawn around them, which gave him a fierce and seductive expression. And the fucking hair. It was jet-black and the wild curls was partly up in a bun, which showcased his sharp and prominent cheekbones. His whole body radiated of mischief and, well…sex. His mere presence demanded the attention of those around him. He just had it, and Remus started to understand the fans desperately screaming out for him, like some kind of sick worship. Only this demi-god looked more like a fallen angel, a bloody devil.

But behind all the smoke inked skin and the revealing clothes, Sirius’ tired expression told another story. God, he looked exhausted – sick even. It made Remus’ stomach tighten into a knot. How could anyone look so perfectly ruined. It was the weirdest thing, probably not even noticeable if one had not spent much time with the man. But after weeks of getting to know the band and being in Sirius’ company, Remus had slowly but surely started to recognize the different traces of distress in the singer’s beautiful face. And it was evidently there now. Just for a split second, before Sirius skilfully rearranged his features and sent Peter, James and Remus a dangerous smirk, promising trouble. The other two Marauders rose from their seats and cheered loudly, beers in hands.

“Marauders! Let’s fucking tear this place down!”, James roared. They were all buzzing from anticipation. Like wild horses about to be freed from captivity. Remus was mesmerized. The whole group had been professional through and through in the weeks leading up to their first show. They’ve met on time and worked their asses off, showing a fierce dedication that Remus could only admire and respect. The three of them very clearly loved what they did and was gifted with undeniable musical talent.

“5 minutes!”, someone yelled at the door leading out from backstage and into the maze of underground hallways. Sirius turned his focus on Remus with a lopsided smile.

“Does this look alright?”, he asked and signalled down himself with his palms slightly spread out. Remus’ brain shut down a brief second.

The fucking god of sex and anything unholy asks how he looks? Was he fucking joking? Sadistically testing Remus like the smug bastard, he could be?

But then he saw it. The slightest raise of one dark eyebrow and the small furrow that gave Sirius away. He was not fishing for a compliment or asking a rhetorical question to boost his ego. He was sincere. It was reassurance that he sought. Remus didn’t understand anything, but Sirius’ look intensified, and he swallowed quickly before answering.

“Yes, absolutely. It looks more than alright. You look great Sirius”. The statement sent a quick wave of relief across Sirius’ face before he sent Remus a small smile.

“Ey, you two! Get over here!”, Peter called, gesturing for them to join their pre-show circle. In a faint distant, the roaring crowd was yelling and chanting for the band to show. The air was electric. Remus smiled and placed himself between Peter and Sirius, and as he did, Sirius turned his head and gave him a long look. His eyes twinkling and a barely hidden smirk formed at the corner of his lips. He looked fucking dangerous. And his fucking smell. Remus was quickly consumed in notes of leather, smoke and a faint flowery scent. It made Remus suck in a breath as he met Sirius’ eyes. Sirius made a deep rumbling sound, sending a short puff of air in Remus’ face as the grey eyes continued to bore into him. Then the black clothed demon flashed a toothy grin at him, fucking winking at him. It sent blood straight from Remus’ brain to a completely different part of his body.

What the fuck was going on?

Sirius looked like a man on a mission. A man out for blood, and Remus couldn’t help speculating whose blood he was after. Most likely he was just excited to be performing again, and that excitement was for some weird reason aimed at Remus. 

He swallowed thickly and forced his gaze away from Sirius as the band was called onto the stage. Remus followed them for as long as he could. The three Marauders jumped at each other, high on the adrenaline traveling from the rumbling of thousand voices waiting just for them. Remus felt a sudden wave of nerves, as if he was the one about to stand in front of so many people. The constant buzzing sound of voices eventually mixed to form one single mass, a monstrous being. They reached their destination, and Remus stayed back as the Marauders disappeared behind the steps leading them on to the stage. The flashing lights suddenly went out and covered the arena in total darkness. It made the crowd grow silent in a split second before erupting into wild screams that transformed into one giant roar. It took Remus’ breath away. He watched wide eyed as spotlights lit up the three shadows emerging from cool blue smoke and his skin broke out in goosebumps. Dark and heavy music accompanied the Marauders as they made their way to their instruments. James behind his drums, Peter on bass and of course, Sirius Black standing in the front of the microphone, guitar in hand, looking like he was about to fucking devour the place. When the light hit his face, the crowd went wild, and the arena seemed to form a black hole in which time and space disappeared into the mercy of Sirius’ dark voice.

Remus was in awe. He had seen footage of the band and heard some of their tracks when they practised in the studio but seeing them perform was a whole other thing. The three of them held thousands of people in their palms. Everything seemed to fall into place, as if being in this band was as easy as breathing.

A couple of songs in, Remus started to get his pulse back to normal and could watch the band with more steady breathing. He observed each of them, admired them and their obvious talent. As his gaze fell on Sirius, the singer tossed his head to get the loose strands of hair out of his face. Then he glanced to his side, eyes landing straight at Remus. His chest was glistening with sweat, and the long hair started to stick to his forehead. But it was the fucking eyes for Remus. Everything and everyone disappeared as those hunting eyes bore into him, unbothered of the crowd trying to eat him alive. It was as if Sirius wanted to tell him something, and Remus half feared that the singer would stop the performance to say something completely unhinged. But it never happened as the grey eyes continued to look at him. It could have been a few seconds, but it felt like a blissful eternity.

What was that look? Determination? Desperation?

Remus’ brows furrowed in confusion as he wondered if Sirius needed something. He had asked the man repeatedly in the last week, as Sirius continued to show up more red-eyed and pale than the day before. But like James and Peter, Remus was cut off as well. Whatever it was that bothered the stubborn furball, Sirius wasn’t interested in sharing it with anyone. Remus had even consulted James a few days ago, as his concern had started to grow.

“I’m keeping an eye on him as well. He’s clearly not doing too good, but Sirius is tricky like that. Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for him to get these lows. We’ve been here plenty of times…”, James had muttered tiredly as they sat in Remus’ office. James had scratched his chin as he continued.

“As you may have noticed, Sirius is not very good at…self-regulating”. Remus nodded silently. Yes, he had encountered what he thought to be the tip of the ‘Sirius Black-iceberg’. The mood swings, the outbursts and the painful struggle of self-expression. Sirius was like water close to its boiling point. But as if the emotional instability wasn’t enough, the dark-haired singer now started to look physically unwell. The thought of bringing a ticking bomb on tour was not enticing in the slightest. Not when you were the manager of said bomb.

But seeing Sirius now, on stage and present, he looked invincible. Like he spitefully challenged the world to fucking tear him apart. And with those fierce full eyes on Remus, the maniac traced a hand down his chest suggestively and sang:

What's your thoughts about religion?

Are you close to your mother?

Tell me 'bout your dream vacation

And all of your ex-lovers

Tell me now, what's that look on your face

She puts her hand on my lips

Begging, "Please, end this conversation"

Baby said, "When you're talking, I go dead

Shut your mouth, give me your head"

Uh-uh, uh, uh, I know you really want to

Baby said, "Let me taste your silhouette

You can talk between my legs"

Uh-uh, uh, uh, I know you really want to

Sirius’ eyes finally let go of Remus with a vicious smile and then he dropped to his knees, fucking thrusting the air as he threw his head back, exposing the strained tendons in his neck. Well, that was. Quite something. Remus’ mouth went dry, and he had a weird feeling of watching something he shouldn’t. Like peeking through a slightly open door, but as the blush started to form on his cheeks, he mentally shook himself. Sirius performed in front of thousands of people. There was nothing private or intimate about any of this. Hell, if Remus should follow his own “peeking analogy”, Sirius was the one holding the damn door right open, inviting Remus in. He really didn’t know what to make of the invitation though.

--- --- ---

As the show ended in massive applause and ear deafening screams, the three Marauders stumbled backstage, drenched in sweat and euphoria. They looked like happiness in its purest, most honest form. It made Remus smile, and his chest swelled with hope thinking about the next shows and the bands future in general.

“Fuck me, that was incredible!”, James exclaimed and dried his face in a towel before tossing it at Peter who quickly dodged behind a coach, clearly used to the throw.

“You really were incredible. You should be proud of yourselves”, Remus told the three. His words made James and Peter send flashing smiles his way, their eyes sparkling. Before Remus could turn around to locate Sirius, the smaller man made his presence known. Remus felt the quick rising and falling of his warm chest dangerously close to his own back. Sirius’ panting breath ghosted at Remus’ neck.

Did the idiot suffer a stroke on stage and forget everything about the personal sphere?

As Remus turned to face Sirius, he was met with pale grey eyes and a boyish grin. His black curls were wet with sweat and his shirt nowhere to be seen. Remus absentmindedly followed a drop of sweat rolling from Sirius’ collarbones and down his chest as it disappeared at his waistband. Then Sirius’ abs tightened as he chuckled quietly, the sight making Remus wanting to do things to the beautiful devil that he really shouldn’t do. Things that would make his abs tighten for totally different reasons.

“I live to impress, dear Remus”. Sirius arched a cocky brow as he smirked at Remus, clearly still riding the wave from their performance. And maybe another wave that Remus refused to dwell upon. He swallowed thickly.

“Pads, stop harassing Remus and get a move on. I wanna sleep”, Peter called over his shoulder as he changed into something more comfortable for the ride back to their hotel. Sirius rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath as he brushed past Remus, unzipping his jeans in the process as if he hadn’t just shamelessly flirted. Remus quickly decided not to stick around and said his goodbyes to the band before making his way out of the arena and into one of the waiting black cars.

--- --- ---

SIRIUS POV

As Sirius rested his head against the elevator wall, the light, carefree feeling in his stomach started to dissolve and turn into heavy dread. The shift happened so fast; it almost made him sick. He let out a shaky breath, as the elevator doors opened, and he slowly made his way down the long hallway to his room. He had done this far too many painful times before, but it never got any easier. The deafening screams and the thrumming bass of the music died out and got swallowed into the total silence and nothingness. He was nothing and no one. In a span of mere hours, he went from being surrounded by thousands of people who adored him, wanted him, to total isolation. Sirius hated the silence that consumed him and made the loud ringing for his ears his only company. The loneliness clawed at him and followed him into his room, whispering relentlessly into his ear.

Sirius reached for his keycard in his back pocket and unlocked the door to his room. It was big and luxurious as always. A living room with a very tempting minibar continued into the bedroom with a huge, connected bathroom. Large, heavy curtains hung from the windows and outside, the millions of city lights blinked. Sirius walked to the bedroom, and as he stood at the foot of the giant, empty bed, a quiet sob fell from his lips. The sound startled him so badly it made him jolt. God, he despised the part that came now. The night. It would be so much easier if he could just sleep from it all, like he assumed James and Peter did. But Sirius’ mind never allowed sleep to come before the early morning hours. It least not without any help. He felt it now, the itch. No scratch that. He had felt it for days on end. Now it was a dull, painful sting that pierced through him. The feeling made him gasp for air and he sat down at the foot of the bed; the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes. Sirius could make it go away. He knew that. He could get a full night of quiet, beautifully comatose sleep. He could catch his breath. Fuck he could feel good for once. He was so tired, and they had only just started out. The real tour would end him if he didn’t manage to push through this. Panic slowly started to form, and his legs tried to bounce the restlessness out of him. Sirius shut up from the bed, unable to find peace in his own body. A pained groan escaped him as he tugged at his hair, pacing the bedroom.

I can’t fucking do this.

And then; Anger. It came suddenly and forceful. It was fucking easy for the others to deny him any relief. What did they know? They didn’t need it like he did. How fucking dared they do this to him? Like a trip to rehab would fucking solve anything and leave him sudden capable of doing all the things he couldn’t do before?

It wasn’t hard getting clean; it was hard staying clean. Making the damn choice every fucking day of his life and stand by it. Right now, he didn’t even want to stand by it. He only did it for James and Peter. He could care less if he relapsed. He may not like the person he was when he was using, but he sure as hell didn’t like himself now either. So, if it came down between hating himself and feeling like absolute shit, or hating himself and feeling nothing, then the choice was pretty damn easy. But in the very small sane part of his mind, Sirius knew that it was his addiction talking and that pissed him off like nothing else.

“Stop messing with my head!”.

Sirius yelled and slammed a fist to the wall, wincing as the immediate pain consumed him, but he would always choose this pain before any other. He laughed bitterly, well aware that the physical pain was his pathetic excuse of a security blanket. It was a familiar sensation, reminding him of his mother’s painful hands, from which he knew what to expect. It soothed him as a sick substitute for comfort. God, he hated himself. Sirius glanced spiteful at the bed, before he marched in front of it and tore the duvet off. Then he threw it on the coach, as the thought of lying down in bed almost made him vomit. Sniffling he settled on the coach and buried his face in his pillow. His heart was in his throat, and he clenched the duvet in his fists, wincing through shaking sobs. He was in physical pain. It hurt and burned down his chest, and he broke out in cold sweat as his body continued to shake.

As sleep finally came, Sirius drifted off with the determination of not repeating this again. He couldn’t fucking bare it.

Hands. Roaming, demanding hands. Fingers around his chin and in his hair. They pulled and pulled, forcing out a pained moan. Giggles. He forced himself up on his elbows, trying to pry his eyes open, but the world was blurred, and his body was heavy. He rubbed at his eyes, but someone removed his hands and held tightly around his wrists.

“Hey, rockstar. Open up”. A finger traced his mouth, and he parted his lips. “This will make you feel so good, I promise”. Then lips on his and a tongue forced a pill into his mouth. He couldn’t breathe and only when he swallowed did the lips leave his own. He panted heavily, gasping for air, as he was being pushed down in the mattress. Hands. So many different hands. In his hair and at his chest. He tried to see how many and who they belonged to, but he couldn’t focus his gaze. The voices became distant and distorted. Then the hands travelled down his stomach, and he arched his back needily as they started working on his zipper. Voices, light giggles. Someone grabbed him between his legs and started stroking him, and he threw his head back in the pillow, moaning. His body trembled with pleasure and exhaustion. Another mouth found his neck, sucking and biting at his skin as hands kept pulling relentlessly at his hair. He was straddled, and without warning, someone sunk themselves down on him and a wet warmth enclosed him. His senses got bombarded with stimuli until his brain was a humming meaningless mess. All the pain and struggle dissolved into an all-consuming numbness. A whimper escaped him as grateful tears left his eyes. He felt them run along his temples and wet his hair. “That’s it”, the voice cooed in his ear. “It’ll make everything disappear”.

Sirius startled awake and stumbled towards the bathroom, just barely avoiding tripping over his discarded shoes. He threw himself on his knees in front of the toilet, throwing up and heaving. His body shuddered violently as his sweat dried and cooled his skin. Tears were spilling from his eyes, and Sirius panted heavily. As the images from his dream kept emerging, a new wave of nausea hit him, and he gagged as his abs contracted painfully.

As his body finally started to relax, Sirius slumped back against the wall with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes and sniffled like a child. The loneliness that lulled him to sleep last night had settled somewhere deep in his chest and it hurt. But now he also felt dirty. He felt utterly disgusted with himself and it filled him with a hopelessness that forced out a strained sob. Sirius crossed his arms over his legs and curled in on himself, forehead resting on his knees.

He didn’t know how long it took, but as the sobs finally started to subside, Sirius slowly released himself. He started to get up from the floor while supporting himself against the bathroom wall. Quietly he turned on the shower. Sirius knew all too well that the warm water wasn’t enough to remove the feeling of revulsion. He had scrubbed his skin raw countless of times before, but it didn’t bring him any relief. He slowly stripped and only then realised that he’d fallen asleep fully clothed. Then he stepped in the shower and pressed his eyes shut.

“At least you look like the fucking slut that you are”.

Scott’s mocking voice came sudden and forceful. It made Sirius’ breath hitch, and he violently shook his head as he tried to escape the words. The voice was relentless.

“Aw, is Sirius Black crying? Seems like I hit a weak spot. You know you could fire me, if you weren’t such a fucking coward. If you weren’t so fucking scared of what I know about you. If you weren’t so bloody ashamed of yourself”.

A small whimper escaped him then. It was true. He was so fucking ashamed it almost tore him apart. Sirius remembered the morning after that blurry night. He had woken up in a strange place in a strange bed, surrounded by strange and naked people. His body had ached for days after, but his mental state had hurt more, as he realized that he, once again, had let himself use and be used. And not only that, but it had also been women. Not just men. Fuck, the things he had done to himself, or let other people do to him, to ease the burning pain of loneliness. Just to escape his screaming mind for a single night. He had pushed his own discomfort far away, just to get some form of intimacy. In that moment, skin was skin. Sirius had been far too gone and far too desperate to acknowledge the fact that he didn’t even like girls. Not that his preferences even mattered, when it all came down to it. He did not have that luxury as that aspect of his life felt out of his control. He had just been so lonely. Even now, he wasn’t sure what else he should or even could have done differently to make the pain go away. Hell, Sirius was close to fucking losing it just a couple of hours ago and he was looking into another shitshow tonight. It would repeat itself, like it always did. And then, the consequences of his actions would hit him full force.

Sirius washed his thick hair, trying to distract himself, and as his fingers reached his neck a new thought smacked itself against his skull.

“It looks more than alright. You look great Sirius”.

Remus.

Sirius shuddered as goosebumps spread across his body. For some weird reason that sentence made his rapid heartbeat slow its pace just a bit. Remus had complimented him, more than once, when he thought about it. When Sirius had walked backstage and Remus’ eyes had lingered on him, he had heard Scott’s condescending voice in the back of his mind. And for another weird reason, Sirius had fucking needed Remus’ assurance like an insecure teenager. But, let alone had Remus reassured him, he had even complimented him, and that small praise had sent Sirius’ head straight to “I will let you manage the shit out of me-town” horrifyingly quick. Quicker than his pride would ever admit, but also quicker than his own frontal lobe could keep up, which resulted in him shamelessly flirting with Remus.

Stop fucking self-sabotaging whenever the hell you get the slightest impulse to. Stop being so socially maladjusted. What is wrong with you?

Sirius frowned as he washed out the shampoo. He knew many labels that could be rightfully stamped onto his forehead, but now he could add masochist to them as well, and if the voice inside his head kept nagging him, he could probably add a few more sooner than later.

He stepped into the bedroom and rummaged through his suitcase. He slightly started to regret that he hadn’t bothered to unpack when they arrived yesterday. Sighing, he threw on a white t-shirt and black jeans and hid his tired eyes behind his sunglasses. He did not care in the slightest, that he wore shades inside like a bloody pretentious cliché. Fucking sue him. He knew eating breakfast would be a challenge, since his appetite was non-existent, and he needed the shield for James Potters’ analyzing gaze.

As Sirius walked down the hallway towards the elevators, the feelings from last night ghosted his mind. It did something to him that he did not stop to register as he knew he wouldn’t like the outcome. But he also knew that when the key in his mind started to turn, there was no stopping it. He let the idea be set in motion, refusing to regard its consequences and it reached its end point with a loud ‘click’. Sirius smiled grimly as the elevator doors closed around him and he quickly sent a text to a number that he really should have deleted, but was relieved he didn’t have. As he walked out the elevator, his phone buzzed promisingly in his pocket and the tightness in his chest started to ease.

Chapter Text

Sirius was officially exhausted—to the point where he could cry. The sleep deprivation made him slow and his fuse short, or shorter, and his frustration had turned into desperation. He had managed to suppress his impulses to some degree, not including invading the now very empty minibar in his room. His attempt to quit smoking had gone out the window as well, as he now spent most of the day chain smoking with trembling hands, whenever the opportunity presented itself. But cigarettes and alcohol could only do so much. It stalled the inevitable. He had made up his mind, but for some reason he’d tried to outrun the clawing urge. But he couldn’t fight it anymore. He was tired. Sirius let out a shaky breath of smoke as he finished his tenth cigarette. Quite the accomplishment, if he did say so himself — after all, it was only around noon.

Sirius crushed the cigarette under his boot and walked inside the giant arena, pinching his cheeks to force some colour unto his face before meeting Peter and James for soundcheck. As he approached the stage, he avoided interacting with anyone he met on his way, gaze fixed on the floor. A headache was starting to form, which reminded him of last night’s pathetic activities. Voices of their crew preparing for the night filled the giant space. There was a constant clatter of cables, and it almost sounded like a construction site. Sirius groaned and rubbed his temples, silently cursing under his breath.

“There he is, hey Pads!”, James waved from behind his drums. To Sirius’ great dismay, James decided that a verbal greeting simply wouldn’t cut it, and he got up to swing a heavy arm around Sirius’ shoulders. The touch was torture. Sirius wanted the physical comfort more than anything, but he couldn’t take it. Not right now, when his mind was out of control and his body didn’t feel like his own. He blocked out the urge to squirm out of James’ strong hold. Peter approached from the speaker he’d been sitting on and eyed the two of them silently. Then he scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“Jesus, Padfoot. You smell like the inside of a tobacco can”. Sirius rolled his eyes as he felt James pulling him closer and sniffing his hair.

“Pete’s right. You smell mate”. Sirius released himself from James with an annoyed huff.

“Now that we’ve established that, can we start?”. Sirius sighed and shook off his leather jacket before mindlessly tossing it to the side. James and Peter exchanged a quick look, and he pretended not to see it or even care about it. But he did. Because those glances always meant something, and more often than not, they meant something Sirius did not appreciate.

“I thought you tried to quit?”, Peter looked at Sirius with a raised eyebrow. “You know, to take care of your voice and all that?”.

“My voice is fine”. Sirius mumbled in response and rubbed at his temples again. He winced slightly as the throbbing headache started to spread across his forehead. The sounds filling the arena felt like knives behind his eyes. Peter muttered something under his breath, clearly not satisfied with the response in any way. Sirius groaned and threw his head back in frustration.

“For fucks sake...why does it even matter? My head’s killing me, so can you just get off my fucking back for once?”. Sirius was unfair and he knew it. Truth was, Peter and James had let him have his space, even though it was hard for them. He knew how much they cared, and how they worried. He saw it in their faces when they looked at him. But Sirius couldn’t bare it. He didn’t think he was worth caring or worrying about. And all his time and energy were spent on keeping himself on track. He could not handle his friends’ feelings on top of his own. So, their worried looks just served as burning reminders of how he constantly let them down. And classic Sirius Black, the hurt turned into anger and every other emotion suitable for pushing people away.

“Stop being an asshole, Pads. We’re just worried about you”, James crossed his arms over his chest. Sirius mirrored him and he felt his anger rise in his chest. Flames slicking the inside of his ribcage.

“Well don’t”, he seethed. “I never asked you too anyway”. Sirius glared at them through locks of black hair. He challenged them to push him, silently promising them to push back even harder. Peter rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in annoyance.

“God Sirius, that’s not how it fucking works and you know it!”.

“Didn’t realise my smoking habits is that big of a fucking issue”. Sirius turned his back to James and Peter and started to set up for soundcheck, adjusting the microphone which was, for some idiotic reason, always set too high for him. He suppressed the urge to kick the damn thing across the stage and break it into a thousand pieces. He briefly considered stabbing himself to death with it, but decided that it was too pathetic, after all.

“You can’t just walk away from the conversation just because it pisses you off”. James quickly walked towards him, looking slightly threatening. Sirius wished he would hit him. Hell, he fucking wanted James to beat him to shit. The urge made him raise his chin towards his friend, inviting him to collide it with his fist. But James was never violent. Peter neither. They all knew that, and it only made Sirius’ gesture that more provoking. James looked down on him with tired eyes, shaking his head slightly, clearly not taking the bait.

“Stop that, you brat. This is not about smoking bloody cigarettes. It’s about you not being well. You look like you barely sleep, and your mood is even shittier than normal”. James was so close, his breath ghosted across Sirius’ face. He could see Peter nodding along in the background as he looked down at his feet. Sirius swallowed and looked back up at James, defiance lightning in his eyes.

“I am fine. Sorry I’m not living up to your fucking standards, Prongs”.

“Don’t give me that. Come on, what’s going on?”. James’ gentle eyes bore into him as Sirius’ words bounced off him. Those eyes tore Sirius apart. It made his own gaze flicker, and his composure faltered slightly, which was all it took for James to cup Sirius’ face with one hand and soothingly stroke his cheek with his thumb. James had always known when to strike. When Sirius’ well-built up walls started to crumble. Sirius both hated and loved it. The caress from his best friend made his breath hitch and as he felt the sudden, desperate urge to cry into James’ shoulder and beg him never to let go, Sirius forced himself out of reach. The action sent a look of disappointment across James’ features.

“Sirius – “.

“No. Can we not…not now…please”. Sirius’ voice was small and way more pleading that he intended. He dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to look at them anymore. He wrapped his arms protectively around himself. He wanted out. Out of the conversation, out of the arena, out of his own head. Sirius needed to gain some form of control and fucking fast, before he ruined everything for them. James sighed.

“All right, later then”. He said and walked towards his drums. Sirius looked at Peter who sent him a long look before starting to tune his base, not uttering a word. Sirius knew they were upset. And it was his fault. He also knew that James would be waiting to continue the conversation at next given opportunity. He rubbed a hand over his face.

Fucking great.

--- --- ---

It was past midnight when Sirius found himself waiting at the spot they’ve agreed to meet. Despite everything, the show had gone surprisingly well that night, but he knew a big reason for that was his current situation. He could shamefully admit, if only to himself though, that doing this held his head above water. Knowing that he would soon be able to turn off his shouting head was all he needed to push through. He crushed the cigarette under his shoe. He had stopped counting them by now. As they were the only thing stopping him from pacing up and down the street, he knew the number was up there. Sirius also knew this wasn’t a good idea. Not by a fucking long shot. He wasn’t that big of an idiot. But the alternative, which he had tried, was far worse. He just needed one night of peace, and then he could turn things around. Soon he would be back home and then he could get his shit together before tour started. Sirius rolled his eyes at himself and his blatant lie. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he couldn’t be bothered. He knew it was James calling for the hundredth time since they parted at the hotel earlier.

The sound of steps approaching made him slowly turn to look at the dark figure coming his way. When the tall man’s face came out of the shadows and into view, Sirius felt his heart sink to his stomach. Its rapid beats blended with something dark and ugly. Something dangerous and shameful. He quickly looked around, making sure no one was watching them, but the street was completely empty apart from a few cars passing by every now and then. It suddenly felt colder, and he shivered. The man stopped just inches from Sirius and sent him a dark, poisonous smile which revealed a few familiar chipped teeth. His dark, long coat almost hit the ground. Sirius swallowed to avoid throwing up on the spot.

“Why are you here?”. He could hear his own voice, but it sounded different. Like he was under water, and everything happened fast and slow at the same time. Maybe it was another nightmare.

Please let it be a nightmare.

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek hard, but as the metallic taste of blood started to spread in his mouth, he knew he was awake, and the revelation sent a spark of panic through him.

“Relax, rockstar. I’m just filling in. The usual guy got caught up in something”. Maddox shrugged indifferently. His dark hazel eyes ran across Sirius’ pale face and then proceeded down his body before it slowly returned to his face again. A smirk played on Maddox’s lips.

“It’s good seeing you. It’s been a while”. A thoughtful expression spread across his face. A few dark locks of hair rested on his forehead. He was tall and broad as he towered over Sirius.

“Must say, I’m a little surprised. Pleasantly surprised, though”. Maddox took out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. He placed one loosely between his lips, lit it and shielded it from the wind, then he proceeded to inhale deeply before releasing the smoke through his nose. Before speaking again, Maddox took the cigarette between two fingers in a swift motion. Sirius eyed him expectantly, bracing himself for whatever Maddox had in mind for him. A vague mantra was already taking form in his mind.

Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t do anything stupid.

“Heard you were in rehab, so figured you’d be done with…this”. Maddox waved between them with his hand and shrugged like the thought itself was ridiculous. Sirius crossed his arms over his chest.

“I am”. He was instantly met by Maddox’s green eyes, which sparkled with amusement. A small, condescending smile started to form around his lips, and he perked a dark eyebrow.

“And yet”. Another inhale. “Here you are”. Maddox exhaled the smoke directly into Sirius’ face, taunting him. Sirius breathed through it as he locked eyes with Maddox. His chin and cheeks were covered in dark stubbles and his hazel eyes were glinting with mischief, giving hints of his dark thoughts before he even spoke. Those eyes made Sirius uneasy. He saw versions of himself in them, that no one should ever see. Versions that only existed between the two of them. At least he really hoped so.

“Still lonely then, huh?”. Sirius startled as Maddox spoke and he quickly masked his nervousness with frustration. The very last thing he wanted, was to make conversation with the man standing before him.

“Do you have it or not Maddox?”. Maddox laughed quietly before finishing his cigarette. He threw it at the ground without much notice, as he kept his eyes fixed on Sirius. He locked him in place like an animal in a cage to which Maddox held the key. Those eyes were merciless.

“Shit, you really need this don’t you, Black? Still so desperate to ease the pain? You know I can help you with that”. Sirius was frozen in place. Everything in his body had stopped working and bile was rising in his throat. He could hear his own pulse slamming in his ears as he bit down on his lower lip to avoid any pathetic sounds escaping.   

“You know, the girls miss you. Can’t blame them, honestly. You looked fucking incredible last time. Bloody loved it when you cried”. Maddox tilted his head and Sirius winced as embarrassment and recollection washed through him, threatening to take him down. The air was thin, and his breathing shallow. He felt his throat tighten as he remembered how Maddox had observed him closely that night. Sitting in a corner with his dark eyes fixed on the scene in front of him. Suddenly, Sirius was back in the room. Back in the bed with all the strange hands and voices. He sucked in a breath, trying to steady himself as he felt so utterly exposed and humiliated.

A big hand gently lifted his chin. Maddox watched him intently, his eyes boring into his own. Sirius was brought back to the empty street and the physical contact with Maddox forced out a strained sound from his lips. Maddox sent him a small smile.

“Hey, don’t worry. I loved watching you and making sure you got, what you so desperately needed”. Sirius pushed Maddox’s hand away and took a step back. He couldn’t do this much longer. He was losing his mind. Maddox was slowly but surely destroying any remaining part of his dignity and self-worth, and the bastard fucking enjoyed any minute of it.

“Glad I could entertain you. I’m fucking serious Maddox. Do you have it, or else I’m out of here”. Sirius needed to shield himself from further damage and he frantically searched their surroundings, making sure he could bolt any minute, if he really needed to. Maddox clicked his tongue and reached in his inner pocket. The movement was so strangely familiar it sent a stream of relief through Sirius’ system. He should be embarrassed by it, but it was far too late for that now. His boundaries had been pushed so far, that he didn’t really know if he had any left.

“Always so fucking touchy”, Maddox mumbled under his breath as he retrieved two small plastic bags from his coat. The sight of the pills was like seeing an old backstabbing friend. Sirius wanted them so badly. Hell, he fucking needed them and all the things they brought him. But at the same time, he knew they were trouble. Sirius knew with all his being, that they would hurt him, if he let them. Problem was that he was more than ready to let them do exactly that. Sirius reached for the bags.

“Uppers or downers?”, he asked as the plastic landed in his outstretched palm. Maddox sent him another deadly smile.

“One of each. Like I said, I know what you need”. Sirius huffed.

“Well, aren’t you fucking attentive”. He paid Maddox with crumbled bills as they shook hands in a quick and fluid movement. Maddox glanced over his shoulder before shooting one last smile at Sirius.

“See you around rockstar. Enjoy”. Then he spun around on his heels and quickly sauntered down the street, before disappearing behind the corner. Sirius stuffed the bags as deep as he could in his back pocket and made his way back to the hotel. It felt like he had just survived meeting death himself. He shivered again. The night air was cold and above the tall buildings surrounding him, the night sky was clear, sprayed with stars. His eyes found the constellation of Orion without his permission, and he flipped it off before crossing the street.

Once inside the brightly lit hotel elevator, Sirius reached for the bags in his pocket. They burned through his jeans, whispering his name, begging him to notice them. He vaguely remembered how long it usually took before the pills kicked in and he quickly shook out two and swallowed them dry. He was more than fucking ready to be knocked out. The placebo effect on his frantic beating heart was instant, and as the elevator doors opened with a pling, he quietly made his way down the empty hall to his hotel room. For once, his mind was not working overtime fretting the impending doom of the night. He was gladly, willingly, walking straight into it with arms wide open. He was close to letting out a manic laughter as he felt the knot untie in his stomach. He was gonna sleep like the dead. Like his bitch of a mother had just given him the beating of a lifetime, he was –

Pling.

The sound tore through Sirius’ frantic thought process, but he didn’t get to contemplate it further before a deep voice called his name. The sound made him involuntarily stop dead in his tracks.

“Sirius”

Remus.

A warm feeling instantly took place in his stomach and goosebumps spread across his skin.

“What are you doing up at this hour. Are you okay?”. Remus’ voice was gentle and caring. It swooped around Sirius’ insides and tugged at heartstrings he did not know he had. Then the answer to Remus’ question came crashing down on him and he cursed himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. Stupid cunty fucking shit and hell and-

The sound of Remus’ footsteps got closer, and Sirius slowly turned around, suddenly doubting his own sanity. As his eyes landed on Remus, he knew some part of him could be characterised as clinically insane. Remus stood before him in black pants and a white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned at his neck, exposing his collarbones. He had rolled up his sleeves and his brown tousled hair was slicked back from his face. A few stray strands landed just at the top of his eyebrows. Sirius’ mouth went dry.

Fucking hell.

A content hum vibrated from Sirius’ throat before he could stop it.

“Sirius?”. His eyes shut back up to meet Remus’ which gleamed with amusement. A small smirk was forming at the corner of his lips. Sirius raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Hm?”. His mind couldn’t connect the necessary thoughts to form a sentence. Remus furrowed his brows slightly and stepped closer. Sirius could smell him now. He smelled clean and warm, like fresh linen. Sirius’ eyelids felt heavy at the thought of being surrounded by that smell. His head really seemed to love that idea as it continued to bring up mental images of possible things that could take place in those Remus smelling linen. It sent a warm feeling straight to his cheeks and between his legs.

Fuck.

“I asked if you were okay. It’s late”. Sirius blinked and mentally shook himself. He quickly cleared his throat and adjusted his stance to hide the beginning tightness of his jeans.  

“’Course I’m okay. I was just…you know. Getting some air. Couldn’t sleep”. Sirius rubbed his neck and smiled up at Remus who continued to scrutinize his face. Being the object for Remus’ intense stare made his insides twist in an unfamiliar but not entirely unpleasant way. But it was dangerous. If he didn’t manage to escape those burning brown eyes, Sirius would very soon find himself closing the little distance left between them and do things he really shouldn’t do. Remus’ expression softened.

“Oh…I’d hoped it had gotten better. You must be exhausted”. Without warning, Remus reached out and gave Sirius’ shoulder a light squeeze. Sirius was dumbstruck as he looked down at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“Nightmares?”. Remus’ voice was soft, but it hit Sirius like a truck and made his eyes snap back up to meet Remus’. He felt his own gaze flicker, as those brown eyes forced themselves under his skin and intruded his mind. They lit up his dark corners like bright spotlights and left nothing unseen. Sirius was not used to this. Whatever the hell this was. The small smile, the soft and caring gaze, the gentle hand on his shoulder and the brows slightly furrowed in worry. No one ever looked at him like that. Not even James. He was used to being looked at with love and concern from his friends, adoration from their fans, hunger from the groupies and utterly disgust and hatred from his parents. But not this. Not this look from Remus. Every fucking feature of Remus Lupin seemed like it was made specifically to dismantle him in the most natural and unyielding way. Sirius let out a shaky breath.

“Something like that”. His voice was hoarse and barely a whisper. He couldn’t help it. He was a deer in Remus’ headlights and his grey eyes were glued to Remus’.

“I’m sorry”. A small frown appeared on Remus’ face. It made Sirius furrow his brows in confusion.

“Why? ‘S not your fault”. Sirius shrugged slightly and for some reason, Remus laughed. Sirius wasn’t sure why, but Remus smiled at him and shook his head.

“Good, I’m glad. Now come on. You need to get some rest”. Remus started to walk down the hall, slightly pushing Sirius’ shoulder to make him turn and follow. Sirius’ body obeyed and he was starting to question if the fuzzy feeling came from following Remus’ command or the two pills he downed in the elevator. He was in deep shit, regardless. As they walked side by side, a nagging feeling appeared in the back of his mind.

“Where have you been?”. The question surprised them both, even though the words had left Sirius own mouth. Remus glanced at him threw the corner of his eyes as they continued down the hall. Sirius concentrated on walking in a straight line.

“Parker’s in town. We met for a few drinks”.

“Oh”. For a reason he refused to consider, Sirius was relieved by that answer. He felt his shoulders drop slightly. He wasn’t even aware that he had been tense. Remus could spend time with whoever he wanted. At least that was how Sirius should feel. The fact that he didn’t was slightly problematic. Remus stopped in front of Sirius’ room and he almost walked straight into him.

“Here we are. Do you have your keycard?”. Remus looked down at Sirius and his mind went blank.

“How do you know, which room is mine?”. Remus regarded him for a split second before he broke into a laugh. Sirius frowned and pouted despite himself. His vision started to get blurry, and his brain had shifted gears. He frowned up at Remus, who shook his head at his obvious confusion.

“I’m your manager starshine, of course I know where you stay. It’s my job to know”. Sirius couldn’t decide if he was flattered or slightly offended by that statement, but he didn’t get to decide before Remus ruffled his hair slightly and sent him a wolfish grin.

“Don’t look so disappointed”. Sirius pushed Remus’ hand away before his body responded in ways it really shouldn’t. He grabbed his keycard from his pocket and swiped it through the lock.

“Shut up, I do not look disappointed”. The door swung open and as Sirius entered his room, he heard Remus’ small laugh behind his back. When he turned, Remus was leaning against the doorframe, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded across his chest.

“Are you going to be okay, though? Can I do anything?”. The question took Sirius by surprise. He was close to letting out a defeated chuckle, as the answers to those questions were so fucking pathetic. No, he most likely wasn’t going to be okay, and no, Remus couldn’t do anything about it. No one could. And even if they could, what was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t sleep because he was haunted by nightmares of his cold mother or his own disgusting actions? That he was a shitty bandmate and an even worse friend? That he was so fucking lonely and ashamed it hurt? And what was Remus supposed to do about it? None of the potential possibilities that came to mind seemed tempting in any way.

Sirius sent Remus a tight-lipped smile and shook his head. It was the only thing he could do. The pills would do the rest and that was it. Remus looked unsure but didn’t push it any further.

“All right then starshine. Be good and try to get some sleep. Call me If you need anything”. Then he pushed himself of the doorframe and backed out into the hall. Sirius nodded and watched as Remus walked past the elevators and disappeared around the corner. He closed the door and sighed deeply, forehead resting against the cold wood.

Be good.

It echoed in his head. The world was getting fuzzier by the minute now and Sirius’ brain shifted once again. His body started to reach that blissful state, in which nothing really mattered. His limbs were getting heavy, and he pushed himself away from the door, stumbling as he made his way to the bed. He fumbled with his clothes, and he briefly thought of Remus’ hands unbuttoning his shirt. A small smile formed on his lips. Then it echoed again.

Be good and try to get some sleep.

Sirius wasn’t good per definition. He never had been good in any way.  But a strange and strong feeling told him, that he could be. Oh yes, he could definitely be good and sleep. For Remus at least. He could be so fucking good. Sirius looked at the bed again before throwing his clothes to the ground. He would sleep now. He would be so good. Before he knew it, he was face down in the pillow. The soft mattress supported his heavy body, and he sighed happily. Everything was numb and buzzing and echoes of starshine and be good bounced around in his heavy mind. Then everything went dark.

Chapter Text

An insisting buzzing woke Remus from his peaceful sleep. He groaned and rubbed his heavy eyes. The hotel room was bathed in the warm noon light, and he furrowed his brows. He might have slept for a bit too long, but yesterday’s outing with Parker and the ‘hallway encounter’ with Sirius had resulted in a late night. The fact that he and Parker had enjoyed gin and tonics like they were on an all-inclusive vacation was not correlated with his current situation – at all. Not even with the slight headache that threatened to develop. The buzzing sound tore him back to the present and Remus reached for his phone on the nightstand. James Potters name appeared on the screen. Remus cleared his throat before answering.

“Hello James”. A faint flick of a lighter was audible in the other end. Remus rolled his eyes and sat up in bed, stretching his back.

“Hi Remus. You up?”. Remus let out a short laugh.

“Well, I am now. What’s going on?”. He rubbed his neck and fought back a yawn.

“Shit, I’m sorry mate. Thought you’d be awake”. Remus shook his head even though James couldn’t see it.

“It’s all good James. Parker and I went out for a few drinks last night and it got a bit late”. A low whistle came from the other end, followed by a chuckle.

“Damn, didn’t take you for the type of manager who drinks on the job. Hope we’re not to blame for that”. Remus rolled his eyes. He was getting used to the bands’ banter by now, which he, most days, appreciated. It gave him the opportunity to throw it right back at their faces from time to time. One could argue the professionalism in that, but frankly, Remus didn’t care. 

“You are Potter. Without a doubt”. James scoffed.

“Hurtful Lupin, really”. Then a pause that was so characteristically James. An indication that the light-hearted conversation was about to change into something else. Remus furrowed his brows, waiting for the other man to elaborate. He didn’t even need to ask.

“Have you seen Sirius since the show last night? I haven’t been able to reach him since we got back to the hotel. He’s not answering the door to his room either”. Remus rubbed at his forehead. If yesterdays’ drinks weren’t enough to summon a headache, Sirius Black most definitely was. He sighed.

“I talked to him last night. Met him in the hallway. It was late, so he’s probably still sleeping”. Remus knew with the rational part of his brain, that it was the most reasonable explanation, but the other part was not convinced in the slightest. His stomach twisted, but no way was he going to tell James that. He heard him sigh on the other end.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s just…he’s been off lately. More than his usual off. He was in a fucking mood at soundcheck too. A downright brat. Don’t get me wrong, the little idiot is a brat in general, but he’s pushing us away, which is classic Sirius, when he’s out of his depth. He is struggling Remus, I know he is”. James stopped talking as his voice grew shaky. Remus’ chest tightened at the sound. James was a walking first aid kid, always aware of his loved ones and ready to do whatever necessary when needed. Remus could see him open his storage of various remedies and heartfelt words. All things he had acquired over the years. Remus knew that James had a special storage for Sirius in particular, but for some reason, it didn’t cut it this time. Hence the phone call. Remus sighed deeply.

“I’ll try and find him, don’t worry”.

After reassuring James and a quick shower, Remus left his own hotel room to hunt down Sirius in his. He had, of course, tried to call the curly haired singer, but as expected, he didn’t pick up. Under normal circumstances, Remus wouldn’t be worried, but he’d experienced things in his career that made him cautious. The people he surrounded himself with led extraordinary lives, and with those lives often came extraordinary challenges. More often than not, those challenges were fixed, or at least tried to be fixed, with even more problematic solutions. So, it was no surprise to him, that his stomach began to tighten as he spotted Sirius’ door. Remus withdrew the key from his back pocket. It was a necessary evil that he, at all times, carried a key to all the band members rooms. He had learned it from very bitter experience. Of course, he tried to knock and call for Sirius before violating his privacy. He really didn’t want to use the card at all, but he was responsible for their safety and well-being. He couldn’t risk anything. As he slid to card through the lock, he hoped with all he had, that he’d find Sirius fast asleep and well in his ridiculously large bed. If Remus had failed to see the signs yesterday, he couldn’t live with himself. A quick, haunting thought made him nauseous. Would he had acted different, if he hadn’t been drinking? A small part of him knew, that he had, at least to some degree, flirted with Sirius. He couldn’t help himself. When he spotted him in that hallway, all he wanted was to talk to him, spend time with him. That feeling only grew as Sirius’ body had seemingly betrayed him, placing a blush across his cheeks, that had made him look like a kid in trouble. Remus had caught him looking at him and the poorly hidden desire in those grey eyes had done little to stop his tipsy mind. He had forced himself to keep his distance and not enter Sirius’ room. He hadn’t trusted himself enough to be alone with him – at least not when he’d been drinking. But fuck, that didn’t mean that very graphic images hadn’t exploded in his mind. Images that included a bed and a wrecked Sirius Black in it. Big grey eyes and sweaty black hair that clung to his pale forehead. Remus shook his head and swallowed as he slowly opened the door, knocking again as he carefully stepped into the room. He needed to focus.

“Sirius? You here?”. Silence. Thick and terrifying silence. No rustling of sheets or sleepy mumbling. Nothing. Remus sighed and closed the door behind him with sweaty palms. The room was a fucking mess, which was to be expected. Clothes, boots, cigarette buds and empty glasses were scattered around the thick hotel carpet. Remus stepped over various red stains that he really hoped was spilled red wine. The air was heavy and stuffy, and the big heavy curtains were drawn, which enveloped the room in darkness. Remus made his way to the bedroom, heart in his throat. He was scared now; he could admit that. The scene before him started to look like something he’d seen before. Something he never wanted to see again. Images of a lifeless body, needle still hanging in one arm, flashed before his eyes and he pushed them away before they paralyzed him. Remus forced himself to move forward. Then his gaze finally fell on a figure in the bed, but the relief was quickly replaced with terror as the heavily tattooed body was still.

No, no, no. Sirius. Please be okay, please don’t do this.

“Sirius?”. Remus’ breath hitched and his voice broke as he tried to call the singers name again. Then instinct suddenly took over, as he made his way to the side of the bed. The first thing he noticed was the raven black curls covering the pillow and part of Sirius’ face. He looked like he was carved in marble. Perfect pale skin covered his sharp bone structure.

Tragically beautiful.

Remus kneeled and frantically felt for a pulse, as he watched in horror, hoping to see breaths escape the man before him. His skin was warm, thank God, and Remus’ vision started to blur with unshed tears.

He's alive. He’s here. He’s warm.

Remus pushed the curls out of Sirius pale face, cupping his head in his hands and stroked his cheeks with his thumbs. Then a very deep and very slow breath escaped Sirius and Remus swore it was the best sound he had ever heard. He let out a shaky breath, then shook the smaller man, calling him again and again. Sirius didn’t react, and his breathing was unnaturally slow, as if his body considered to stop working between every breath. Remus frowned and groaned in frustration.

“Sirius, wake up. You need to wake up, come on”. Remus shook him again, stroking his fingers through the singers’ wild curls. He grabbed a handful of hair, clenching around it like it could steady his own anxiety.

“Come on Starshine, be good and wake up. Please wake up”. Remus begged. Sirius’ breathing continued to come in deep and slow puffs. Sweat was starting to form in Remus’ brows, as he looked at the unconscious singer in his hands. He started to go through different scenarios in his head. Should he call 911? Or maybe Parker? Sirius would kill him, if the media found out he was admitted to the hospital. Remus feared that the unwanted attention combined with Sirius’ frail state of mind, would push him too far over the edge. Then, the smallest grunt came from Sirius and Remus was close to throwing up. His dark eyebrows twitched slightly, and then he slowly shifted, like his entire body was aching.

Oh, thank God.

Remus let out a breath of relief and swallowed before he spoke. “Hey, it’s me. It’s Remus. You need to wake up for me. Wake up Starshine”. He shook Sirius’ shoulders firmly, which elicited an unsatisfied sound from the man. Remus couldn’t hold back the wet laugh as Sirius slowly seemed to resurface beneath him, grunting once again.

“B’good…Starshine”. It was almost impossible to comprehend the word, as Sirius slurred heavily. Then he took a slow, deep breath. “Moonshine…moons”. Remus smiled relieved, despite not quite understanding the mumbling. Sirius was yet to open his pale eyes, and Remus waited in anticipation. He needed to see those pretty, haunting eyes.

“Stars’n….’n moons”. Sirius sighed and a small, content smile appeared on his lips. Remus frowned.

What?

Sirius shifted again, rolling flat on to his back with both arms above his head, exposing his bare chest that rose and fell with each deep breath.

“Remus…moons…”. A low, soft chuckle escaped Sirius and Remus startled slightly at the unexpected sound. Was the maniac laughing in his hazed state? Was he dreaming or speaking in delirium? Then a content string of mumbles and sighs left Sirius, and it sent a warm stream directly into Remus’ beating heart and spread to the rest of his body. The man before him was bathed in shadows from the drawn curtains, which made his features even sharper. His long, dark lashes rested on his porcelain pale cheeks and the tattooed skin made him look like a piece of forbidden art. He squirmed from time to time, furrowing his dark brows. Remus placed a hand on Sirius’ chest, shaking him again.

“Sirius –“.

Suddenly, Sirius tensed beneath his touch, and his eyes flew open, wide and frantic. He pushed Remus’ hand off his chest and sat up in bed so fast, that Remus tumbled backwards on the carpet. Sirius panted heavily before squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing. Remus could see the muscles in his throat work, and the bare skin broke out in goosebumps as Sirius’ body started to tremble.

“Hey hey, you’re okay. It’s just me, Remus”. Remus’ soft voice immediately caught Sirius’ attention, and his grey haunted eyes landed on him, full of confusion and something Remus couldn’t quite put his finger on. Sirius wordlessly stared at him while his chest worked overtime. Then Sirius curled in on himself, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s not real”. It was a low mumble, but Remus caught it. He was confused. To put it lightly, but without thinking, he reached out and placed his hand on Sirius’ bare shoulder. The contact made Sirius flinch with a yelp and Remus quickly withdrew his hand. Sirius jolted back, slamming himself against the headboard, pushing his body as far away from Remus as possible.

“Fuck, Remus”. Sirius swallowed and blinked, his chest heaving. Then he ran a trembling hand through his curls. Remus didn’t dare say anything from his spot on the floor. He watched the other man silently, as he tried to compose himself. Sirius rubbed a hand over his face, groaning.

“Fucking hell”. Once he seemed to have caught his breath, Sirius turned his head to look at Remus, one dark eyebrow raised. The puzzled look did little to ease the warmth that had settled in Remus’ stomach, and it threatened to continue down.

“What are you doing here?”. The deep and raspy voice was laced with confusion. Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

I’m making sure you didn’t OD and die on me, you fucking nuisance.

Remus huffed and slowly got up from the floor as he dusted off his pants. He walked to the other end of the bedroom and grabbed a chair. Sirius watched him attentively as he dragged it across the carpeted floor and placed it at the bedside. As Remus slumped down, exhausted from his inner terror, Sirius’ lips formed a small smirk.

“You know, I thought you were a stalker when you knew my room number yesterday, but didn’t take you for the type that broke in and felt people up”. He cocked his head to the side. “At least not without their consent”. Sirius’ smirk broke into a satisfied smile, exposing two sharp canines. He slumped back against the headboard, seemingly satisfied. Remus refrained from strangling him, but just barely.

“I did not feel you up. I was –“

A quick snort from the black-haired demon interrupted Remus.

“It’s okay”. Then Sirius slowly pushed himself up towards Remus and his scent surrounded them. It was smoke and flowers, like a burning bouquet, and if that wasn’t signature Sirius Black, then Remus didn’t know what was. Sirius hovered for a few minutes as his gaze travelled over Remus’ face, lingering at his lips, before snapping back up to meet his eyes. But something was off. Those pale grey eyes that used to be razor sharp was cloudy and unfocused. Remus opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Sirius.

“You have my consent”. He purred the words as he smirked dangerously. If it wasn’t for the worry that, once again, started to build in Remus’ chest, he very likely would have taken the singer up on his offer. As he sat there with his naked chest covered in black tattoos and his hair falling on his bare shoulders, Remus could easily do things that would wipe that satisfied smirk right off his pretty lips. The things he would fucking do to that man. Remus swallowed and tried to get his heart rate under control. Sirius leaned in so slowly, that it was almost unnoticeable. The air was thick with silence, but Remus’ voice cut through it with determined ease.

“You’re high”. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. As soon as the words left Remus’ lips, Sirius stopped inching forward and stilled. His eyes ran across Remus’ face, unsure and searching, but suddenly his facial features hardened, and he pulled back.

“No, I’m not”. Sirius’ voice was dark and unyielding, but Remus didn’t care. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and gave the younger man a steady look.

“And you’re a shit liar too”. The skin around Sirius’ eyes twitched. Seconds passed as the silence stretched on between them. Remus was hell-bent on not breaking eye contact first, which was pretty easy when your opponent was under the influence. However, it took a while for Sirius to come to the same conclusion. Remus could see his jaw muscles tense as the singer clenched his teeth, but no words left the stubborn bastard. Remus huffed in frustration and got up from the chair. He quickly scanned the bedroom, and his eyes fell on Sirius’ discarded t-shirt and jeans from the night before. He went to grab the jeans to toss at Sirius, wanting to get him out of bed.

“What are you doing?”. Remus stilled with the jeans clutched in his hands. Sirius’ voice had an edge to it that didn’t sit well with him. Remus cursed under his breath as he started searching through the pockets.

“Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?”. Sirius pushed the duvet out of his way as he frantically started to crawl to the end of the bed. Remus ignored him and just as Sirius stood on unsure legs, Remus’ fingers closed around the plastic. The rustling sound of pills made him nauseous – and fucking livid. He pulled the two small plastic bags out from the jean pocket and clenched them tightly in one hand. Sirius’ eyes went wide as he quickly shook his head.

“Those are not – “

“Don’t you fucking dare!”. Remus snarled and cut him off with a warning look. Sirius winced and swallowed. Remus’ clenched fist was trembling with anger. God, he wanted to fucking shake Sirius. Wanted to knock some fucking sense into him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”. Sirius frowned at Remus’ tone. He lowered his gaze to the floor and bowed his head. The dark hair hiding his face.

“You don’t understand”. His voice was barely a whisper. He looked like someone’s teenage son who just got busted for hiding a joint in his room, only this was worse. This was not some boyish mischief. This was dangerous and Remus was, at least to some degree, responsible for the bands’ safety and well-being. All which Sirius was jeopardizing so carelessly.

“You’re right. I don’t fucking understand. You’re just gonna throw away all your work at rehab and treat your body like absolute shit, no matter the consequences? You think it’s a sensible path to choose? And right before leaving for tour as well? I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you’d do this”. Remus was angry and his words came out even harsher than he had intended, but he couldn’t help himself. He was so utterly disappointed in Sirius. Not because he was struggling, but because he was willing to risk so much – hell he risked fucking everything. And he was scared too as he suddenly felt Sirius’ challenges as incompatible with touring which entailed performing night after night and spending time locked away in a hotel room. Remus simply couldn’t trust him anymore. And the worst part of it all was the all-consuming horror he had felt in his innermost being, when he feared that something had happened to Sirius – to his starshine. That was something Remus needed to unpack later before it exploded in his face. A frustrated huff brought him back to the hotel room. A set of angry grey eyes were boring through him.

“Yeah, ‘cause rehab fucking solves everything right? Get a grip Remus. You think being shipped off to some pricy hippie resort and being force-fed with bloody chia pudding and vitamins fixed this? Fixed me? You think it was a walk in the fucking park going through every shitty, agonizing step of withdrawals before being torn to shreds by some perverted psychiatrist? I understand why you might think I’d enjoy the masochistic approach, but no Remus, I fucking did not. Not one bit. I hated it”. Sirius took a step closer, narrowing his eyes. His body was trembling slightly, almost unable to contain his rage.

“And when they were done and satisfied, I was sent back and expected to continue where I left off, as though all the bad and ugly shit wasn’t waiting for me, but surprise surprise, no amount of that soul searching bullshit can fix me…can take away this…this thing inside of me”. Sirius rubbed at his sternum as his eyes welled up. It made Remus’ heart ache, and he softened at the sight before him. Sirius fought back the tears with a trembling lower lip, but he forced his shaky voice to continue, even though it looked like it physically hurt.

“The things that got me sent to that shithole in the first place didn’t fucking cease to exist while I was gone. So yes, I do whatever the fuck I have to. I don’t have the luxury to consider the consequences, and even if I did, it wouldn’t change anything”. Sirius closed the difference between them, pressing his chest against Remus’.

“I would still be standing with my back against the wall. Still be me, Sirius fucking Black, and I’d still hate it. Nothing and no one can ever change that”. Sirius’ eyes flickered between Remus’. The room fell silent again and Remus felt his head was about to explode. This was the most honest Sirius had ever been to him and yet he felt so far away. Out of reach and unfortunately out of touch as well.

“Why is it so wrong to be Sirius Black?”. The question made Sirius swallow thickly and he forced his eyes away from Remus, seemingly unable to look at him. Remus wanted to hold him close and stroke his dark hair. He wanted nothing more than to comfort him. But he didn’t dare move, afraid of scaring the singer off like some rare animal. And just as Remus feared, Sirius started to close up, folding his arms around himself.

“If I knew, we wouldn’t be having this conversation”. Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his curls like he was trying to shake off his discomfort. He looked so tired, Remus feared he’d collapse any minute. Remus ditched his hope of getting him out of bed. He didn’t know if it was due to the pills or the lack of sleep, but Sirius needed to rest, nonetheless. They just needed to get through the last show without things falling apart and then they needed to do some serious damage control, when they returned home. Remus tried to meet Sirius’ eyes, but the smaller man kept them fixed at the floor. A small sniffle escaped him, and he quickly rubbed at his face with the back of his tattooed hand. Remus’ heart broke and he released a breath before closing the distance between them.

“Come here”. Remus mumbled softly as he pulled his arms around Sirius’ smaller frame. He looked so fragile, standing there in nothing but his boxers, hiding his face behind thick, black curls. The gesture made him jump and tense in Remus’ arms, like his body didn’t know how to react to the sudden closeness of another human being. Sirius tried to escape Remus’ embrace but was too exhausted to get anywhere. He let out the smallest whimper and finally, as though he was defeated, he let his arms wrap around Remus, burying his face in his chest. The small sniffles were quickly replaced by big wet tears and sobs tore through his trembling body. Remus stroked his hair, shushing him slightly to calm him down.

“Hey, you’re okay”. Remus whispered and stroked his back soothingly. Goosebumps spread across the pale skin, and the words that were meant to comfort Sirius only seemed to intensify his distress as he violently shook his head against Remus’ chest.

“No”.

“Yes, you are, I’m here, you’re okay”. Sirius clenched Remus’ shirt in his fists as he continued to sob uncontrollably against his chest. He was simply falling apart right there in Remus’ arms, and his breathing started to quicken.

“Easy now love, easy. Breathe”. Sirius stilled for a few seconds, like something had shocked his system, and Remus grabbed the opportunity to guide him to the bed and carefully lying them both down. Sirius clung to him frantically, hiding his face and squeezing his eyes shut. It was the spitting image of someone who couldn’t bear to be in his own skin. Remus continued to whisper in his ear, as he settled next to him, covering them both with the duvet. Sirius crept impossibly closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of Remus’ neck, wetting the skin with his warm tears.

“Got some sleep, okay?”. Sirius shook his head once again, whimpering against Remus’ neck.

“I-I can’t. I don’t w-want t-to”. His words were cut off by heaving breaths. Remus calmly shushed him again and slowly stroked his hair.  

“You’ll be okay love. I’ll be here when you wake”. Those words made Sirius’ breathing begin to slow, but the silent tears continued.

“There you go sweetheart, that’s it, breathe”. Another whimper erupted from the singer, but it had a strain to it, that Remus hadn’t heard before. It had a slight resemblance of a moan and Remus was acutely aware of their proximity and the very small amount of clothes on Sirius warm, shuddering body.

Don’t think about shagging him when he’s clearly having a nervous breakdown, Jesus.

Remus cleared his throat to compose himself, but he was quickly pulled back, quite literally, as Sirius clawed at his shirt with shaking fists, making sure that Remus kept his promise. He continued to whisper reassuring words into the singer’s ear, lulling him to sleep in his arms like a child. As Sirius’ body started to relax against Remus’ chest, something dangerously close to fondness crept under his skin. With every breath from the other man, the feeling inside Remus grew, and he knew that something had changed. Something had shifted and clicked into place.  

Chapter Text

The loud roars came in relentless waves that slammed against his chest. Even after years of performing in front of thousands of people, the magnitude of it all still took his breath away. Sirius was panting heavily, taking a minute to catch his breath as the others switched instruments in between songs. He could feel the sweat run from the nape of his neck and down his spine. The spotlights were warm and unforgiving, almost burning his skin. Sirius had a love/hate relationship with those lights. When he was on top of things, the warmth swirled around him, caressing and soothing in its nature. Those days it warmed him from the inside, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He needed to be seen and to engage with people in front of him. But when the spotlights went out, the sudden cold seeped through his pores and held tightly around his throat, making him feel even lonelier than before he entered the stage. The sweat ran cold, and the screams died out. Everything was shut down, packed up and people moved on. That was the hard part.

But on Sirius’ bad days, the spotlights were torment from start to finish. Instead of displaying him and his best assets, they stripped him bare, highlighting all his flaws. He had nowhere to hide. He was exposed for anyone to see, if they just took a good look at him. Those days, Sirius felt naked and see-through. To the extent that he sometimes had to check if he was really there. If his skin was still covering the bones and the blood still running in his veins. The roars from the crowd never quite reached him but fell flat at his feet. Sirius hated when he couldn’t feel it and he mourned the loss like something had been taken from him. Which, in all fairness, was pretty accurate. The time spent on stage was his only escape. If Sirius couldn’t feel the energy and the adoration as they performed, the bad days had no silver linings. Those hours on stage were holy to him, and nothing or no one was allowed to take them away.

Which partly explained why Sirius often ended up throwing himself fully into the fire, when it was a good day. He needed to suck every bittersweet drop out of the moment, because he knew, that he couldn’t take it for granted. Tomorrow might be bad again, maybe the whole week would be a nightmare. So, as the tunes to the next song started, Sirius quickly found himself greedy for more. It was one of those days and he would fucking devour every single minute of it. He was a mad man for it.

As the background music started to fill the arena, Sirius jumped off the stage and headed for the fence that held back their desperate fans. The screams intensified as he approached them with a wicked smile on his face. Seeing their happiness made his chest swell and if he could, he would thank each and every one of them for making him feel close to human from time to time. As Sirius stopped in front of the fence, he was met with outstretched arms that pulled desperately at his sweat soaked shirt. The screams were so loud, he couldn’t even form a coherent thought, and he fucking loved it. He felt himself being pulled at violently, his hips slamming against the cold metal, surely leaving bruises. He heard a shredding sound and realised his shirt was being ripped from his body, as he felt the cold air hit his bare skin. It only made the maddening screams intensify, and as hands clawed at his face, cupping his cheeks he started to sing into the mass:

Baby likes it messy, yeah, she loves to cause a scene

Touchin’ me in public like she wants the world to see

All the things you do to me

I don’t care if you’re using me

I just want to ruin these sheets, oh yeah

Hands were in his hair now, tugging harshly and yanking him forwards. Sirius leaned into the sea of bodies. Nails dug into his skin, and he felt a stinging sensation followed by a warm trail that drippled down his skin. A feeling he knew all too well.  

I want to kiss you on the mouth

Take my tongue and lead it southbound

Baby, put some faith in me

Put your waist in my face

Come on, violate me

I want you to violate me

Sirius was pinched, pushed, shoved, kissed and he loved it. He wanted to drown in the maddening chaos of begging bodies. It could swallow him whole, do whatever it wanted with him. Nothing compared to that feeling, that hazy state of mind - apart from doing drugs. Sirius winced subconsciously and just as someone started to grab his belt, a strong arm, that could only belong to someone from security, pulled him back from the deafening screams. Accompanied by a chanting crowd, begging for more, Sirius was escorted back behind the stage, as the song reached its end and the lights went out in massive applause. Security blocked out the grabbing hands and shielded him from every angle. Everything was dark, loud and fuzzy as he was rushed down corridors.

“Sirius Black, have you officially lost your mind?”

Sirius snapped his head up. The familiar voice telling him off in his in-ears instantly made his brain short-circuit. His mind and body were no longer connected and, in his desperation, to make the feeling last, he locked in on the one responsible for said disconnection. The person behind the voice. The one he had woken up next to, just hours earlier. And in brilliantly, agonizing irony, that person was standing at the end of the dark hallway, arms crossed and waiting for him with a stern look on his face. The sight sent a warm wave through Sirius’ body, and he shuddered slightly. He couldn’t help it as he felt a dark smirk form across his lips. Sirius lowered his head and bore his gaze into his target as security pushed him forward. His need intensified with every determined step, until he was on the edge of bursting at the seams. Remus’ silhouette was dimly lit up from behind, and as Sirius ascended the steps at the end of the hallway, he felt like a demon about to wreak absolute havoc. He shrugged security of his shoulder before sending them a quick and icy glare. Remus rolled his eyes at the hostile gesture. When Sirius finally stood before him, panting, he grabbed Remus by the bicep and pulled him down the next hallway without a word. Remus stumbled after him.

“Hey! What are you doing? Are you okay?”. Sirius only huffed in response, as he continued to drag Remus along without looking back. The dark hallways were like endless mazes, but Sirius knew his way around and as their destination appeared on the left, he was close to running out of patience. He could still feel the hands on his skin, the nails digging into him, the burning and the stinging. The clothes being ripped from his body.
Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest and his head was empty. No voices, no thoughts. Just the memory of how Remus’ warm chest had felt against his cheek as he had woken up earlier that same afternoon. Sirius was merciless being reduced to nothing but a fuzzy, insisting urge that took up all his mental space. He had never experienced anything like it, at least not sober, and - fuck - Remus had flushed his pills while he slept, hadn’t he? Sirius stilled then, hand still wrapped around Remus’ arm. Time froze as Sirius briefly considered if he should punch his devastatingly beautiful manager in the throat. The one person that could, unknowingly, tear him apart and piece him back together again. Yes, Remus most definitely had flushed them down the drain without a second thought. Remus owed him now, if not for the emotional damage, then for the street value of two bags of uppers and downers.

“Sirius, what’s – “

Remus’ voice interrupted his inner monologue. Sirius snapped back to reality and time sped up in unison with his heartbeat. He forcefully opened the door on the left and pushed Remus inside a dark supply room. Remus let out a surprised yelp as Sirius smacked the door closed with his boot, grey eyes never leaving Remus. The other man looked utterly confused, his big brown eyes searching Sirius’ face for answers he couldn’t give. The only audible sound was Sirius’ deep breathing through his nose. He knew how he must look. Hair wild and untamed, shirtless and sweating with small cuts and bruises across his tattooed torso. His pale eyes and sharp features that made him look cold and unapproachable – or so he’s been told. But most of all his inner chaos that he barely kept at bae. It was running just beneath his burning skin, threatening to break lose at any second. He knew Remus could sense it, at least some part of it, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He wasn’t in control, nothing made sense –

“Love, are you al – “

A strained sound escaped Sirius as the words left Remus’ lips and in one step, he was chest to chest with Remus, pushing him backwards until he was pressed against the wall. Sirius forcefully grabbed Remus’ shirt in his hands and without thinking, without holding back, he crashed his lips against Remus’. The other man froze and let out a surprised sound against Sirius’ mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed this, he wanted this. It didn’t take long though, before Remus resurfaced and kissed him back with the same intensity. Sirius felt hands around his neck, playing with his hair and he groaned as Remus grabbed a handful and tugged sharply. Sirius could feel Remus smirk into the kiss, and he huffed in frustration, slipping his tongue inside Remus’ mouth. A breathy sound came from him and Sirius’ hands started to wander up under his shirt, brushing against the soft skin at his sides. Remus shivered slightly under Sirius’ calloused fingertips. The kiss deepened and Sirius tilted his head slightly, forcing back a moan, as he tried to undo the buttons on Remus’ dress shirt. His hands worked frantically and as Sirius felt his jeans tighten around him, he pressed their hips together, sighing deeply at the friction.

A sudden, sharp pain in his lower lip made him gasp and he quickly pulled away from the kiss as if he was burned.

“Ow! Fuck!”, Sirius cursed under his breath and ran his tongue along his lips. He tasted metal and furrowed his brows at Remus who was panting just as heavily now. Some of the fuzziness started to leave Sirius’ brain and made way for a building frustration.

“The fuck was that for?”. He touched his lips, that without a doubt would bruise, and shot Remus an accusing look through dark lashes. Remus let out a breathy laugh, which only intensified the urge in Sirius. He equally wanted to strangle and kiss Remus to death. His lower lip was throbbing painfully, and so was another part of him as well. Remus sent him a stern look.

“We’re not doing this. At least not here, we’re not”.

Sirius’ frown deepened at Remus’ words. He was not used to people saying no to him – not including his parents. Sirius shuddered as he forced them out of his mind. The last thing he wanted to see for his inner vision in this moment was Orion and Walburga Black. That was too fucked up, even for him. But he still couldn’t make sense of Remus’ words. He blinked to steady himself, pushing down his aching need and childish urge to scowl furiously at Remus.

“Doing what, exactly?”. His voice was hoarse, and he swallowed thickly, clenching his fists at his sides. The frustration of being so rudely interrupted was gnawing at his insides and he huffed.

Remus raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Sirius, silently asking him, really? When Sirius only shrugged in response, Remus sighed deeply.

“We’re not fucking in a god damn supply closet at a venue, Sirius. I’m your manager, and we’re at work”.

Sirius rolled his eyes at that, trying to process what those things should mean to him, or what Remus expected them to mean. Surely, they should mean something, especially when Remus bit his lip like a fucking savage to stop him. But when it came down to it, those things meant absolutely shit to him, besides being a thorn in his side when all he really wanted was to fuck his manager in a supply closet. Remus saw him debating with himself and rubbed at his face tiredly.

“Jesus Christ”, he muttered under his breath.

Sirius raised a dark brow and crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. “Well, we’re not fucking are we? So, there’s that”.

Remus looked back at him in disbelief before a smile broke out on his face. Sirius started to recognize a theme in the conversation, and he didn’t like it. He was frustrated and close to losing control and Remus was laughing at him. It was not a dynamic that he supported. He fought back a pout as a smirk spread across Remus’ lips. He stepped closer to Sirius, eliminating any distance between them. Sirius uncrossed his arms and let them fall at his sides. He eyed Remus carefully, as he leaned in close.

“Maybe, but you were fucking grinding yourself against me sweetheart”.

Sirius’ body responded before his mind, and a deep shudder ran through him. Remus smiled and placed slow, burning kisses along his neck. Sirius swallowed as he felt himself getting harder. The smell of tea and clean warm laundry, the smell of Remus, surrounded him and he sighed, tilting his head back slightly. He wanted to deny it, wanted to talk back, to regain control but Remus slowly pushed him backwards and cornered him against the wall. It was cold against his skin, and he shivered. Sirius hummed and closed his eyes as Remus continued to trail kisses down his neck and unto his bare chest. The air felt cold at the small wet spots his lips left behind and goosebumps spread across his skin. Then, without warning, two strong hands grabbed his ass and Sirius jumped, his eyes wide.

“Fuck! Remus”. He could feel his cheeks begin to burn as Remus stood up to look at him with a satisfied smirk.

“You’re jumpy”, he mumbled, almost to himself, as some kind of observation. Then he smirked dangerously, eyes twinkling. “Not used to someone grabbing your ass?”.

Sirius’ eyes widened at Remus’ words. He was embarrassed, he was confused, and he was painfully turned on. Remus looked at him with a calmness out of this world. It stirred something inside of him.

No, he wasn’t fucking used to people grabbing his ass. He was usually the one who did that.

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, to get himself and the situation back on the right track. The track that he decided, but Remus patted him on the hip before reaching for the door beside them. Sirius turned his head to look at him, trying not to look too desperate.

“Be backstage in 10 minutes. It’s getting late”. With those words, Remus swung the door open and left without looking back. Sirius furrowed his brows as he glanced at the door. Frustration bubbled wildly inside him. The urge that had clawed at him was left unresolved and had settled deeply and unsatisfied in the pit of his stomach, threatening to grow. Sirius sighed and rubbed at his face.

When Sirius walked backstage 12 minutes later, after doing some thorough damage control to calm his arousal, he was met by Peter and James lounging in one of the sofas, talking about the show. Peter was mimicking a scene that had played out among a couple of girls at the front row. James was laughing hysterically. They stopped immediately as Sirius entered the room, both smirking up at him. Sirius ignored them as he walked towards his duffle bag with clothes. James cleared his throat from behind his back.

“You know you’re making Remus’ hair turn grey, right?”.

Sirius frowned as he searched his bag for something to wear. He grabbed an oversized black t-shirt and threw it on before turning to face the others.

“What do you mean?”.

James and Peter looked at him knowingly, as if he should already know the answer to that. Peter waved with his hand, gesturing towards the stage door as he started to elaborate.

“You know, with the crowd thing. He was not having it mate, that’s for sure”.

James snickered beside Peter and Sirius raised a dark eyebrow at them as he tied his hair into a bun. James joined in.

“Yeah, you’re definitely in the doghouse now Pads. The man was ready to fire the whole fucking security team on the spot”.

Sirius sat down on the sofa across from his friends, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’re The Marauders. He’ll get used to it”. Sirius shrugged and sent a satisfied smirk at the others. They did the same, not remotely against Sirius’ crowd work. The show had been amazing, which was even better when it was their last before heading back to prepare for tour. Silence fell between them for a moment. Peter looked down in his lap, but James’ warm eyes were locked on Sirius.

“You looked like you enjoyed yourself tonight”. He smiled fondly at Sirius, and it made his heart flutter in his chest. He nodded in agreement, looking down at his hands.

“I did. ‘Was a good night”.

Sirius knew James was fishing. That he was hoping for Sirius to open up and let them in on his own free will, without them forcing it out of him. But along the way, he somehow forgot how to do that. He knew what they wanted and needed to hear from him, but he didn’t know how to give it to them. Not anymore. He might have been able to when they were younger, and things were easier. When he sought out their comfort and support, instead of pushing them away. He had been a better friend and a better version of himself then, he knew that, and it hurt not to be that person anymore. Now he was closed off, reserved and distant. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed wholeheartedly at something James or Peter had said or felt their embrace loosen the tight knots in his stomach. Sirius couldn’t quite figure out, when it all had changed between them. When he had become such an unbearable and self-absorbed asshole. He swallowed as he realized that those words used to come from his little brother, whenever they were fighting. It pained him to realize that the idiot had been right all along. And if he was right about him, what about his parents? Were they right too?

Sirius shook himself, refusing to walk any further down that path. When he looked up, his vision was blurry, and he realised that he was crying. The traitorous tears were warm as they rolled down his cheeks and he quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand, taken aback by his own reaction.

“It’s okay Pads”, James cooed and sat down beside him, pulling him into his side with a strong arm. Peter silently sat down at his other side, nudging his shoulder carefully. Sirius sniffed and squeezed his eyes shut. He thought he was done crying. At least for the next few weeks. He had cried so much when Remus had confronted him back at the hotel, that he didn’t think he had anymore left in him. But the tears continued to fall without his consent or control, which was an ongoing pattern today. Remus had broken something in him and now he was unable to hold anything back. Remus’ soothing words and reassurances had hugged his inner child who’d half expected a beating. He had held him in his arms, until he fell asleep and been by his side when he woke up – as promised. And if Sirius was completely honest with himself, he felt like he didn’t deserve it. They were all in their right to beat the living shit out of him. For being problematic, lying and spiteful. Right now, he just wanted someone to hit him. It was a language he understood. A language that didn’t confuse him or demanded anything from him. Sirius choked down a sob and James rubbed slow circles on his back, rocking him slightly.

“Hey, what’s going on?”.

Sirius shook his head, and curled in on himself, resting his head in James’ lap. The position was so familiar between them but hadn’t been a thing for a long time. James froze as Sirius tugged himself in but quickly placed a hand in his dark hair and started to stroke it gently. Peter scooted closer and silently placed Sirius’ feet in his lap. Sirius sighed and then he sobbed. He sobbed at the painful comfort that he’d denied himself for so long. A comfort that he didn’t want or know how to ask for anymore or even receive. But somehow his body had remembered and somehow his two best friends were willingly giving it to him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

“I’m so fucking so-sorry”. Sirius’ breath hitched between the words and his body started to tremble.

“I’m so fucking sorry for everythi-thing”. Fuck, he was all over the place. Just 15 minutes ago he was ready to jump their annoyingly hot manager and now he was crying like an infant in his bandmates’ arms after one of their best shows. Something was wrong with him. Very, very wrong and he decided then and there that it was Remus’ fault. He must have done something to him. When he was done crying his eyes out, he would find him and make him undo it. A deep, rumbling sound came from James’ chest as he spoke.  

“It’s okay Pads. You don’t need to apologize”. The words hit him full speed. Like hell he needed to apologize. He could apologize to the day he died, and it still wouldn’t be enough. What was wrong with everyone? Wasn’t he meant to apologize? Maybe he was finally losing his mind. He shook his head miserably.

“What’s happening to me? What’s wrong with m-me?”. Sirius voice broke and he hid his face in James’ lap. Peter gently massaged his feet, slowly grounding him with each press of his fingers.

“There’s nothing wrong with you Pads. You’ve just been through a lot recently and we’ve started doing shows again after a long break. Of course it’s fucking hard on you. It’s hard on all of us. Give yourself some space”. Peters voice was calm and sure. He was often the quiet one, but when he finally spoke, his words were big and meaningful enough to last for days. He could feel James nod in agreement above him.

“The whole ‘Scott situation’ was far from ideal, especially when you just got back from rehab. And don’t even get me started on your wonderful parents’ handling of the situation back then. You’ve been under a lot of pressure and now you need to adjust to Remus and to be performing again”.

A short snort came from Peters end of the sofa. “And god knows adjusting can be a challenge for you”.

James elbowed him in the ribs, which made him cry out in pain before flipping him off.

Sirius frowned and rubbed his eyes. “Shut the fuck up. I’m adjusting just fine. Fucking look at me”.

James hummed as he continued to slowly stroke his hair.

“Oh yes, you are adjusting so very fine”. They both laughed at James’ condescending remark but quickly escaped as Sirius tried to simultaneously kick Peter in the stomach and give James a hit to the groin. They scrambled behind one of the sofas, safe and out of reach, as Sirius sat up and rubbed at his wet face. Peter sent James a knowing look before winking. James tried his best to hide his smile, already knowing where Peter was going.

“Speaking of Remus –“

Sirius glared up at him between his fingers. He was done and exhausted, the perfect victim with no strength to fight back.

“Do not go there”, he warned darkly.

Peter continued without missing a beat, somehow immune to the ‘Black glare’. He pointed to his own lower lip. “Am I right to presume you may have given in to your sexual desire towards our very good-looking manager?”.

James barked out his signature laugh, clenching at his stomach and wheezing like he was having some kind of heart attack. The sound made Peter laugh and then laugh even more as he accidentally grunted halfway through a chuckle.

These two fucking maniacs.

Sirius buried his face in his hands, muttering: “You have no idea”.

Chapter Text

The crowded room was filled with sounds of clinking glasses, people talking and the endless muffled background music, which only served as an annoyance – another noisy element trying to pry its way inside Sirius’ brain. The other annoying, and much more noisy, element was James Potter who was currently stuffing his face with snacks from the hotel bar. Sirius only registered him in his periphery, as his gaze lingered on someone else at the far end of the room. Remus had been “manager mingling” all night and was now doing small talk with some of the label guys, standing utterly relaxed in his dark suit and a drink in hand. Every now and then, he laughed at something, and Sirius’ pulse accelerated as he watched the wolfish grin spread across Remus’ face. His brown hair was partly slicked back, but several unruly strands framed his handsome features. Sirius took another sip from his drink, not really registering what it contained by now. Preferably something strong.

“Earth to Sirius!”.

He retracted his gaze reluctantly at the sound of his name. His eyes protested as they were slowly dragged against their will. Then they landed on James, the one who so unapologetically claimed their attention.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”.

James muttered something under his breath as he rolled his eyes behind round, and slightly crooked, spectacles.

“Stop being such a creep. You’ve been watching him all night”.

Sirius scoffed at that. “So?”.

He took another sip of the drink. It was a gin and tonic, he realised. Well maybe just gin and a very small amount of tonic. He had made it himself, not having the patience to deal with the bartenders’ tendency to hold back, or having to chug several drinks before the slightest effect kicked in. And he needed it to kick in fast tonight. His pulse had been pounding for hours, his skin burning underneath the surface and a slight tremble had settled in his fingers. Sirius was on edge. More than usual. And every grin, every hand being drawn through brown hair pushed him further and further towards the edge of sanity. Admitted, he had been on that edge for years, even before Remus, but not like this. Not like he might fall into sweet torture inflicted by those suggestive hands. He even felt them on him like phantom pain. They wandered down his chest at night, and grabbed him in places that claimed him as theirs. And he leaned into those touches, craved them.

Sirius’ eyes had unconsciously wandered back to their preferred target, like a moth to a flame. As if he could feel the weight of them, Remus turned his head slightly and sent him a smile and a barely noticeable wink. Sirius gasped for air before burying his face in his hands, groaning.

“Oh God”.

 James turned to find the source of Sirius’ misery, which only confirmed what he already knew. He frowned as his eyes returned to Sirius.

“Jesus. Pull yourself together Pads. He grabbed your ass, so what? Honestly, if that’s the most action you’ve had recently, I send my deepest condolences ‘cause that’s just pathetic”.

Sirius shook his head in resignation as James threw another handful of peanuts in his mouth.

“Will you shut up? It’s not about…that”. Sirius waved his hand, dismissively. James looked far from convinced but remained silent, challenging Sirius to go on.

“Well at least not just that”. Sirius lowered his voice, feeling the tightness finally starting to leave his shoulders. He knew it meant, that the gin had started working, and he welcomed the easiness in his breathing and his calmed heartbeat.

“He – he confused me…Somehow”. Sirius couldn’t put it into words. The clawing, nagging feeling that had relentlessly resided in him since that day at the venue. Since Remus had cornered him and planted kisses down his neck. He had lit him on fire and then walked away with the only remedies to turn off the burning. His breath hitched in his throat as he recollected the moment. Remus had called him sweetheart as he had teased him for his neediness. No one had ever called him that.

Fuck

Sirius swallowed and let out a shaky breath as he slid a hand through his wild curls in exasperation. James looked at him with a blank expression on his face.

“Mate. You do realise, that you’re gay, right? I mean how confused are we talking here?”.

Sirius’ eyes quickly scanned their surroundings, but no one seemed to have overheard their conversation. He scowled at James.

“Fucking hell. Keep it down, Prongs”.

James just rolled his eyes, before ordering another drink for himself by simply nodding at the bartender. The he turned his focus back on Sirius, looking slightly concerned. Sirius knew what he was getting at and drew in a deep breath.

“You know I’ve never understood why you’re so afraid of people finding out. There’s nothing wrong with it”. A drink was placed in front of James, and he quickly finished half of it before rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

Sirius sighed. The words warmed his tired heart, and he knew that James meant them too. It didn’t settle the fear clenching around his throat though. The same fear that Scott had taken advantage of as he had made his life a living hell. The same fear that ultimately made him run away from home. A fear that greatly surpassed the fear of fists colliding with his face or condescending words ripping at his self-esteem. This fear was something else. This was touching his innermost being. His weakest and most vulnerable spot. It had the potential to destroy him beyond repair. Sirius knew that. He just didn’t know why. He had never let himself dwell too much on it, as it filled him with cribbling anxiety and frustration. The lines between right and wrong were often blurred in his mind, but this topic, in particular, was a grey area, that he simply refused to explore. His mind and body worked separately as it seemed to be the easiest way around it.

“I know that”.

Sirius’ voice sounded unfamiliar, even to himself. It was thick and far away, and he hated it.

“Do you? ‘Cause you sure as hell don’t act like it”.

Sirius didn’t answer. He just looked at James. He couldn’t muster up the mental energy it would take for him to actually have that conversation. So, he glared at his best friend, hoping it would shut him up. James scoffed and finished the rest of his drink.

“It is always such a pleasure to be the subject of your ‘Black glare’ Padsy, but why don’t you walk your grumpy ass over there and use those pretty eyes of yours on your lover instead? Maybe convince him to finish what he so clearly started”.

Sirius, who had been mid-sip in his drink, nearly choked and he felt a sudden rush of heat spreading across his face. James didn’t seem to register Sirius’ distress, or else he just didn’t care. Both options were possible. He continued his relentless yapping.

“I don’t see the issue, really. Is it because of the lip thing?”. James pointed to his own lip for emphasis. “Always thought you’d like it a little rough but -“

“Please stop talking”. Sirius screwed his eyes shut in a pained expression as he rubbed at his temples. A childish part of him hoped that James would have magically disappeared when he opened them again. A chuckle from his friend proved otherwise and Sirius slowly opened his eyes, watching him reluctantly. His face was definitely heating up now. He needed air.

Sirius quickly finished the rest of his drink before standing up, stretching his arms above his head. The movement made his t-shirt slide up his stomach, exposing his tattooed skin, but he didn’t care. Most of the people present were dressed up in suits or long dresses as they celebrated their upcoming tour. Sirius and James both wore black jeans, but Prongs had had the decency to wear a shirt. Peter had the self-awareness to not show up at all. Sirius had neither decency, nor self-awareness, but just needed the distraction – and a certain someone to rest his eyes upon.

He took his old leatherjacket from the back of the bar chair. James opened his mouth to say something, but Sirius quickly cut him off.

“I’m going for a smoke”.

To busy his hands, Sirius put the cigarette between his lips and fiddled with the lighter on his way out of the large building, hoping no one would follow him.

It was dark outside, and a silent rain fell on the streets. It all melted together in a splash of coloured puddles, as the city lights were reflected on the wet concrete. Sirius sighed and rested his back against the wall. He sucked on the cigarette and closed his eyes as he exhaled. It was a nasty habit. He knew that. But he hadn’t had the self-discipline to stop. He felt his hair start to curl even more from the humidity and he slid a hand through it. The night was oddly silent, and he listened as raindrops collided with the surroundings.

“Hey you”.

Sirius startled at the sound, almost dropping the cigarette, but as his eyes fell on Remus his heartbeat started to speed up for entirely different reasons than surprise. The familiar scent hit him like a tidal wave, and he slowly breathed it in. Remus stopped right in front of him and plucked the cigarette from his lips before tossing it to the ground, smudging it with a black dress shoe.

“You really need to stop that”.

Sirius could only nod wordlessly and wide eyed, as he watched the other man before him. The dark friendly eyes, and the white scar across his nose. The small freckles that painted his face and the stubbles on his cheeks. The tempting, soft bow of his upper lip. The first shirt buttons undone. Sirius’ mouth went dry as his eyes trailed down Remus’ chest. He felt his eyelids getting heavy. Then a low chuckle erupted from the chest.

“My eyes are up here starshine”.

Instantly, Sirius’ grey eyes shut back up to meet Remus’. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. His thoughts were going fast and slow at the same time. He was both frozen in place and falling through thin air. Then Remus slowly stepped closer.

“You look nice tonight”.

He reached out to slide a hand through Sirius’ damp curls. Sirius sucked in a breath and shivered as he felt the fingertips against his scalp. Then Remus’ warm hand settled on the nape of his neck, lightly playing with his hair. Goosebumps spread across Sirius’ skin as the tingling sensation shut through him like a wildfire. Sirius couldn’t hold back the content hum that left him as the long fingers continued to slowly caress his neck. He tilted his head back, leaning into the touch. Remus smiled fondly at the sound and a small dimple appeared on his cheek. The sight of it made something snap in Sirius and he cupped Remus’ face in both hands before crashing their lips together. A knee was suddenly pressed between his legs and Sirius gasped, which gave Remus’ tongue access to his mouth. Sirius let out a short moan, but the sound of a car made him snap back to reality. He pushed Remus back gently, and they both looked at each other as they panted. Remus raised a dark brow in confusion.

“Not – not out - here”. Sirius’ words were chipped and raspy from his heavy breathing. He looked over Remus’ shoulder just as the car passed by and he felt his shoulders relax a bit. Remus looked down at him with a confused frown on his face. It was hard to meet his eyes and Sirius looked down at his feet, biting the inside of his cheek. He felt a bit foolish, but he couldn’t ignore the anxiety of someone seeing them. Seeing him. The thought alone made him nauseous, and he crossed his arms at his chest, ready to close himself off. A gentle grip around his bicep made him look up in Remus’ warm eyes.

“Then let’s get out of here”.    

-.-.-.-.-.

“Fuck”. Sirius cursed through clenched teeth as his back was slammed against the closet in Remus’ bedroom. His head was spinning, and he vaguely registered the taste of gin in the back of his throat. It was quickly replaced by Remus’ warm tongue and Sirius grabbed the other man hungrily. His mind was hellbent on one thing and one thing only and he would curse whoever got in his way. He had waited and watched all night and now his patience had officially run out. Sirius started unbuttoning Remus’ shirt with an impatient huff through his nose. He could feel the other man smirk against his lips. But he didn’t care. He needed this. He needed skin against skin and every piece of clothing was a thorn in his side. The endless row of buttons was starting to piss him off.

Then warm hands crept up under his own t-shirt and Sirius felt the air leave his lungs. He stilled as the fingers reached his nipples, slightly pinching them. An uncontrollable shudder ran through him, and he moaned despite himself, as he felt a sharp, painful tuck.

“You sound so fucking good”. Remus’ voice was a low rumble against his own lips and Sirius’ brain started to shut down.

Then the hands were gone from his chest and before he knew it, they were pulling his t-shirt over his messy hair. It fell to the wooden floor with a soft sound and then Remus’ hands were on him again. Sirius looked down at himself, following the fingers stroking his tattooed chest and stomach. Saw his ribcage rise and fall with each frantic breath, and then further down to his protruding hipbones. A long finger trailed his waistband, and his abs contracted on reflex.

A sudden wave of panic hit him like lightning, and it generated a desperate need for control. Sirius grabbed Remus’ arms and forced them away from his skin. He spun them around, pushing Remus’ back against the closet with a strong grip. He felt Remus’ curious eyes on him, but he couldn’t meet his gaze. He focused on removing his clothes with trembling hands, frustration building in his chest with burning intensity. Remus reached for him, but Sirius quickly dodged, not letting the man distract him, not letting him change the course of events. This was what he knew and what he was used to. This was what he recognized as safe. Being in control. He couldn’t let anyone take over. Not after Scott. After Maddox. After everything.

“Look at me”.

The words reached Sirius, but he pushed them away with a slight shake of his head and a dissatisfied grunt. He held Remus tighter, desperate to hold him in place.

“Alright”. Remus’ voice sounded strangely determined, but he ignored it.

Then a firm hold of Sirius’ hair drew his head back, forcing his eyes up to meet Remus’. He stilled, trapped in Remus’ grasp, and he glared up at the other man in frustration. Remus let out a short laugh.

“That’s not how this is going down starshine”.

The grip in Sirius’ hair tightened and he groaned as Remus exposed his neck in the process. He felt warm, wet lips at the soft skin below his ear, and he shivered as Remus mumbled against his neck.

“I’m not letting you shut me out, Sirius. That’s not gonna happen. You’re going to behave and you’re going to let me take fucking care of you”. Remus’ eyes bore into Sirius’. His breath hitched in his throat, but he couldn’t look away. He was trapped with his heart slamming frantically, threatening to beat its way out of his chest. Remus took a step closer and pushed Sirius backwards in the process.  He felt the edge of the bed hit his hamstrings and his eyes widened.

“What are you -“.

Then Sirius landed on the mattress with a short “uff”.

“What the fuck Re –“

His protest was cut short by Remus’ lips on his own and the grounding feeling of weight on him as he was being straddled. His brain short circuited as Remus rolled his hips on his crotch and he felt his eyes roll back into his own skull.

“Fuck”. Sirius moaned against Remus’ smiling lips. Then the other man continued to trail wet kisses down his neck, biting slightly at his collarbone. Sirius threw his head back and squirmed under Remus as he felt himself getting painfully hard. Remus drew back and looked down at him with an expression Sirius didn’t recognize. It made him uneasy. Then Remus trailed a finger across Sirius’ cheekbone and down his bottom lip.

“You’re so pretty. Has anyone ever told you how fucking pretty you are?”.

Sirius felt his cheeks heat up in seconds and he whined helplessly under Remus’ strong thighs. Remus chuckled at the sound escaping him and Sirius threw his arm over his face, too embarrassed and too turned on to be in his own body. He choked down a giggle as he felt light bubbles fill up his stomach.  Remus’ strong fingers pried his arm away from his face.

“You’re getting all flustered and smiley. Who knew the Sirius Black could do that”.

“Fuck off”.

Sirius scoffed breathlessly and turned his head to the side as he tried to escape the intense and foreign urge inside of him. An urge that grew with each second Remus laid his eyes on him.

No, no one had ever called him pretty.

He had been called a lot of things. But never pretty. Never ever. And he liked it. The things he would do to hear Remus say that again.

Another roll of Remus’ hips pressed against Sirius’ crotch, and he almost lost his mind by the friction. He struggled to get up on his elbows, but Remus held him in place with a firm hand to his heaving chest, tutting disapprovingly. The sound made Sirius throw back his head in the pillow, groaning.
The smallest sensation started to emerge in the back of his mind, but it was strong enough to make his limps go heavy. He was enveloped in Remus’ smell and under his steady weight. It grounded him and as he was being stripped from expectations, Sirius felt his noisy brain starting to go all numb and fuzzy. A sigh of relief left him, and, in its wake, a soft smile appeared on Remus’ face. Sirius’ body tingled and he half expected to sink down through the mattress.

He watched Remus through hazy eyes and didn’t register what the warm hands were doing until his zipper came undone. The realization of what was about to happen made his breath hitch excitedly in his throat and he bit his lip, hard. Remus chuckled above him as he palmed him on the outside of his boxers. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to stop himself from shivering.

Don’t fucking whimper.

Then a big, warm hand pushed his boxers down and closed firmly around his dick, slowly sliding a thumb over its sensitive head. Sirius’ hips buckled and well, he fucking whimpered.

“Fuck. Okay, okay! Go easy on me. Its…its been a minute”.

Sirius panted and the feverish admission made his cheeks blush even harder, but Remus sent him the warmest of smiles as he started stroking him in a steady pace, forcing a moan from Sirius’ heaving chest. Sweat was starting to dampen his hair, and it stuck to his forehead. He reached for Remus and kissed him deeply and desperately but was once again pushed back in the mattress. Sirius closed his eyes as he tried to stifle any further embarrassing sounds escaping his throat. But as a sudden wet warmth surrounded him, his eyes shot wide open, and he looked down at his sweaty body. The sight of Remus sucking him off removed all logical thinking from his brain and a desperate moan left him. He felt the vibrations from Remus’ chuckle all the way up his spine.

“Please don’t – don’t st- stop”.

In a universe that contained only the two of them, Sirius’ pride ceased to exist. He would do anything, say anything, if it meant Remus would continue to make him feel this good. Sirius buried his hands in Remus’ brown curls, and on cue, Remus’ movements intensified. He reached a hand up to Sirius’ chest and pinched his nipples again, hard. Sirius whined and squirmed, overwhelmed by the stimuli. But he couldn’t escape. He was at Remus’ mercy and that realization almost pushed him off the edge.

“Fuck Moons! ‘feels so good. So – so good. Fuck, please!”.

He was rambling, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered in that moment was that Remus didn’t stop whatever he was doing to him. And Sirius realized that, right now, he would let the other man do anything to him. It was a shock to his system and as Remus praised him, mouth still around him, his body reacted instinctly with a wrecked moan. His back arched up from the mattress as he came, but Remus continued to slide his tongue around his overly sensitive dick, forcing violent shudders through his body.

“Moony, easy easy!”.

Sirius desperately begged and pushed against Remus’ body to escape the overwhelming sensation. Remus finally removed his torturous lips which a satisfied smirk and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Sirius panted, eyes at the ceiling. He knew he must look absolutely fucking wrecked. Hell, he felt wrecked, in the most amazing, mind-blowingly way. Remus had perfectly ruined him. Sirius sighed, trying to catch his breath.

Remus moved to lay on his side, head supported in his hand as he watched Sirius. He pushed the sweaty strands away from his forehead as he softly asked:

“Who’s Moony?”.

Fuck, he did say that out loud, didn’t he?

Sirius swallowed thickly before turning to meet Remus’ kind eyes. Sirius’ own gaze flickered across the other man’s face.

 “It’s you. You’re Moony”.

Sirius couldn’t keep the eye contact. Somehow, this moment felt even more intimate than being sucked off. Which he knew was quite ridiculous. He sighed and grabbed Remus’ hand.

“If I’m a star then you’re the whole damn moon”.

Sirius’ cheeks flushed for the hundredth time, but when Remus flashed him a brilliant smile that reached all the way up to his eyes, he knew that it was okay. It was worth the agonizing burn and the uneasiness. At least he really fucking hoped so. Remus shook his head fondly and stroked soft circles across his chest. Sirius watched the movement absentmindedly.    

“You’re silly”.

Sirius laughed light-hearted at Remus’ conclusion. He hadn’t felt this comfortable, or this relaxed, in a long time. He smiled mischievously at Remus.

“No, I’m Sirius”.

Remus groaned in exasperation at the terrible pun.

“At least you’re good looking”, he deadpanned.     

Chapter Text

There was a pleasant silence in Sirius’ dining room as the evening sky grew darker and darker outside. It was as if Sirius’ own noisy thoughts were also beginning to quiet down. As if they sensed that the day's activity was winding down. But that peace never lasted long. The transition from day to night always went by quickly, and once it was night, Sirius’ mind often started up again - at an entirely different pace. But right now, in this moment, life felt suitably calm. It was neither harsh sunlight nor all-consuming darkness. There was only the soft golden light from the setting sun that made every edge, every surface soft and inviting. Sirius imagined what it would be like to live in that feeling. To stay wrapped up in that golden warmth. To live in a world where things didn’t hurt so much. But deep down he knew that no one really lived like that. He definitely didn’t. But being with Remus that night a few days ago came close. In that moment in time, he was at ease.

“Is Remus any good at cooking, actually?” James twirled the red wine in his glass with theatrical flair, eyes narrowed as if the liquid might reveal some grand truth. He sat opposite Sirius with the setting sun in his back, which gave him an angelic glow, he did not deserve. Sirius rolled his eyes and reached for the bottle, refilling his own glass.

“Haven’t got a clue, Prongs. And honestly? Don’t care.”

Sirius gave the wine a casual swirl, then tilted his head back and took a generous gulp. Dinner for the two of them had, unsurprisingly, been takeaway—because neither of them could cook to save their lives. James had been pampered all his life, living off his mum’s home-cooked meals, while Sirius had been banned from his family’s cold, gloomy kitchen. He’d eaten whatever the house staff put in front of him—if he was even allowed at the table. More often, he was locked in his room with nothing but hunger and wallpaper for company. He shoved the thought away before it could get too comfortable in his brain. James’ snort snapped him out of it.

“Please. You’d fucking love it if that man cooked for you. Picture this: Candlelight, jazz in the background—Remus stirring sauce with one hand and tossing you a wink over his shoulder.”

Sirius didn’t respond right away, mostly because his brain had run off with that image and wasn’t in a hurry to come back. A small, traitorous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Remus in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, soft music playing, and Sirius just… sitting there, watching. He took another sip of wine, trying not to look too much like he was enjoying the fantasy. James, of course, noticed everything.

“So let me get this straight—you’ve already slept with the man before he’s had the chance to win you over with wine and dine?” James raised a brow, grinning. “Damn, Pads. Straight to dessert, huh? No messing about with appetizers, I see.”

Sirius let out a loud laugh at the ridiculous—but admittedly well-placed—word play, though part of it was also the absurd image of him and Remus listening to jazz in this overly romantic, wildly unrealistic scenario.

“In what world would I ever listen to fucking jazz?”

James shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Alright, alright, forget the bloody jazz. That’s not the point. The point is that ‘dinner’ between the two of you would end up with you being tossed up on the kitchen island and devoured. And don’t try changing the subject just to dodge my question.”

Sirius sighed and fell back into the chair, not in the slightest excited about where the conversation was going. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t sleep with him, okay? Happy now?”. He snapped, then added under his breath: “I’ve been avoiding him for the last two days”.

Sirius sulked, letting his gaze drift to the city lights slowly emerging outside the tall window, silently wishing James would just let him be. But another, more desperate and lonely part of him missed talking to his best friend. Missed the advice. The shitty banter. The connection. Everything about their friendship before the fame. Before Sirius became too difficult to deal with—too hostile and closed-off to like, let alone care for. Sirius swallowed thickly as a deep and aching sadness crept inside his bones. James huffed.

“Why the fuck would that make me happy? Does it make you happy?”. James just looked at him, unreadable and Sirius furrowed his brows as he sat his wine glass back down on the table.

“Does what make me happy?”.

Frankly, he didn’t fucking know what made him happy anymore. 

Well, getting a blowjob from Remus came pretty damn close. Being called pretty came even closer.

Sirius instantly shook his head as he tried to force the thought away before his cheeks would heat up. James shot him a puzzled look, then he sighed as he leaned forward, elbows resting at the table.

“Does it make you happy, that you haven’t fucking slept with Remus yet? That you’re avoiding him like a teenage girl?”

“Prongs, I – “.

“Does it make you happy, beating around the bush? This fucking self-torture that you’re doing?”.

Sirius’ mouth went dry as James leaned in even closer. There was a seriousness in his expression, that he rarely showed. Sirius leaned back in his chair, hoping to create some distance between them.

“You like him Pads. I’ve seen how you look at him, but you fight the situation like it would fucking kill you to let someone in. Like its dangerous –“.

“Because it is!”.

James clenched his jaw at Sirius’ sudden outburst. Sirius ran a frustrated hand through his hair, as he tried to calm himself. Then he let out a quiet laugh, but it was hollow - more reflex than amusement. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped.

Sirius stared down at the floor, jaw tense. “It’s just… it’s not that simple, James.”

There was a pause. Sirius pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“I don’t know how to do this. Not without screwing it up. And the worst part is -”

Sirius cut himself off, lips pressing into a thin line. Then, softer:

“Never mind.” He sat back again, gaze flicking toward James, guarded but a little cracked around the edges. “Forget I said anything.”

James didn’t say anything. He just watched Sirius for a beat, letting the silence settle without rushing to fill it for once. Then he leaned forward, voice quieter, steadier.

“I’m not going to forget it, Pads.”

He paused, eyes searching Sirius’s face.

“And you don’t get to sit there pretending you don’t care when it’s so fucking obvious that you do.”

Sirius reached for his glass again — more for something to do with his hands than thirst — and took a small sip. He glanced at James, and for a moment, something flickered behind his ribcage. Regret, maybe. Fear.

“I’m handling it. It’s fine.” Sirius waved with a hand dismissively; “You’re reading too much into it, Prongs. It’s potential sex with our hot manager who’s out of our hair in a few months anyway”.

Then he leaned back in his chair, trying to put his mask fully back on - but it didn’t quite fit anymore. The words meant to convince James and to calm his own nerves felt like ash in his mouth, but he refused to acknowledge it. James didn’t flinch, didn’t rise to the bait. He just sat there, steady and quiet for a long second. When he was like that, he could pick Sirius apart like nothing. That side of James Potter was the most stubborn and patient thing a living person could ever be. But it was the calm before the storm. Soon, Sirius knew, James would pounce at him like a predator, and the mere thought made Sirius swallow thickly. He hated being cornered in a conversation. He hated how he never knew what to say and how to say it. His mind was a whirlwind, with no connection to his mouth. Then, with a calm that cut through all of Sirius’s bluster, James said:

“I know when you’re lying, Pads”. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice low and sure; “You’ve got that look - the one you get right before you run. And you always run when something actually matters.”

James let the words sink in, not with judgment, but with something heavier: care. And it tore Sirius up inside; James’ steady gaze, his calmness and ability to see right through him. Even though Sirius had done nothing but push him away and avert anything that came close to an honest conversation between them.

“You don’t have to hand it all over. I’m not asking for confessions. But don’t shut me out and call it ‘handling it.’ Because I’ve seen you when you’re actually fine. And this?”

James tilted his head, eyes soft behind the glasses.

“This isn’t it.”

Sirius tensed – subtly, as he sucked in a breath. His shoulders drew in slightly, jaw set, as if bracing for impact. Like a blow to the face. Because words often felt that way to him. They hurt like a bitch, cut him open and left scars across his soul. Fuck how he wished James would back off. But he didn’t. Not this time, and Sirius knew he couldn’t outrun him anymore.

“Look…”.

James began carefully, seemingly choosing every word like it might shatter something. It made Sirius sick to his stomach.

James continued: “I didn’t want to go there, but we’re going on tour in two weeks. That’s not nothing.”

Sirius didn’t look at him. His eyes fixed somewhere over James’s shoulder, cold and distant. He needed to distance himself to survive this conversation. He needed to shut down.

“Don’t,” he muttered. Quiet, but edged with warning. Silently threatening James, hoping he would stop.

James exhaled slowly, ignoring it.

“You’ve been clean for some time now, I know. I know. And I’m so fucking proud of you. But touring?”He hesitated for a second, trying to catch Sirius’ defiant eyes.

“Touring is chaos. Pressure. Noise. Too many people. Too many expectations. And you -”

“I said don’t.”

Sirius’s voice cracked like a whip, his knuckles white around the wine glass. He still wouldn’t look at James. He fucking couldn’t.

“I’m not using,” he said through gritted teeth. “That should be enough for you.”

Sirius felt his skin shiver with rage, and he removed his hands from the glass, clenching his fists under the table. He needed to get James away from him. From this dangerous border that he was crossing. He was too close, too fucking smart, too observant. Sirius swallowed again, hoping to whatever God up there, that he wouldn’t fucking vomit all over the table.

James sat still, absorbing the heat of the blow without retreating. He watched Sirius tremble, but he kept his voice steady, merciless.

“It would be, if you looked me in the eye when you said it.”

The silence that followed was sharp, full of all the things neither of them wanted to say. Sirius didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. But his silence spoke louder than a thousand denials, he knew that. He was trapped. He was done. James would hate him forever. Maybe lose his temper and finally beat the living shit out of him. God, he hoped he would. Anything else than this. But James pressed on. Gently. Steady.

“Mate… I know something happened during the pre-tour shows.”

Then Sirius finally looked up - and his expression was a battlefield. Pride, anger, shame, fear. Barely held together. One more word, and he’d shatter.

James swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper now; “You weren’t okay, Sirius. You were… gone. Even when you were there, you weren’t.”

Sirius clenched his jaw as he looked down at his hands. A slight stinging sensation started to form in his eyes. He heard James suck in a breath, and Sirius almost gave in then and there. He couldn’t take it much longer.

“I didn’t ask,” James continued, “Because I wanted to believe you’d tell me if it was bad. But you didn’t. And now we’re two weeks out from stepping into that madness again, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t notice the cracks.”

No, Prongs, no. Don’t do this. Don’t ask me. Please don’t make me say it.

James leaned forward, elbows on his knees again. His eyes were painfully glassy as he whispered;

“Did you relapse?”

Sirius’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He felt the air leave his lungs and then the room. He gasped as he choked down a sob that forced its way out of him. It was so violent that it hurt his throat on the way.

James watched him, carefully, with no anger - only concern. Tired, quiet, unshakeable and unstoppable concern. And it ruined Sirius. It pained him to no end, seeing James like that and to know, that he was the reason.

“You don’t have to say it out loud,” he said softly. “But I know. And you don’t have to go through this trying to fake your way to the other side.”

There was a long pause as everything stopped inside him. For a moment, everything just… dropped. Then Sirius laughed bitterly, rubbing his hands over his face. He was tired in a way that went bone-deep. Tired of lying and running.

“Yeah,” he finally whispered, voice broken. “I did.”

The words were like gravel in his throat, but Sirius forced them out. He dragged in a shaky breath, then stood abruptly, stepping away from the table like the distance would keep him from falling apart. He might as well ruin himself, before anyone else did. If he had to give in and come clean, he might as well do it properly.

“The first time was months ago. Before the shows. Before Remus.”

Sirius spun around and looked at James with wild, fiery eyes that threatened to spill angry tears any second. His chest heaved as he let out a manic laugh and threw his arms wide.

“And then I fucking did it again during the shows! Because it’s who I am. And I’m gonna do it again when we leave for tour, ‘cause I’m not someone who gets better, James.” Sirius let out a sharp, humourless breath, his face pale and drawn, eyes too bright. James stayed seated, his expression unchanged. Calm. Present. Like he refused to let Sirius’ chaos affect him. It sparked his rage even more.

“Despite your pathetic attempt to send me off to rehab”. Sirius continued, eyes shining with something close to rage, but not quite - more like fear dressed up in anger.

“I’ve wrecked every good thing that’s ever come near me. I lash out, I lie, I use whatever’s closest to stay numb - and then I pretend none of it matters.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Classic Black family legacy, right?”

James didn’t respond right away. Just continued to let the storm play out, watching Sirius unravel at the seams with more frustration at himself than anyone else. He started pacing. The words wouldn’t stop. Everything was crashing down.

“You don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “You can’t get it. I don’t just fall apart - I take people with me and then I ruin them.”

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. His voice was quieter now. Almost defeated; “I can’t be the broken one again, James. Not right now. Not with the tour coming. Not with Re…everything on the fucking line.” His voice cracked around the edges, and he forced it flat again. “I handled it. I did what I had to do and I’m back on track. End of story.”

James slowly rose from his chair as he softly spoke; “This doesn’t make you broken Pads. It makes you human.”

James reached out to Sirius, but he scoffed and turned away sharply, his voice tight. “Yeah, right. Human. Real comforting, James.”

Panic ripped through his gaze as he paced once, twice, gripping the back of his neck like he wanted to tear something out of his own skin.

“You say that like it’s noble. Like fucking breaking down in the middle of a goddamn tour, unable to fucking function like a normal human being is something to be proud of.”

James didn’t move. Just listened. Sirius hated how steady he always was. It made him feel even more off-balance. He wanted to rip his skin off, so James could see for himself, how fucked up everything was inside of him. How deeply ruined he was. He looked away then, almost ashamed to say it out loud. And lower, barely audible:

“Remus knows. Sort of.” He shrugged one shoulder, arms crossed tight as he tried to close himself off to James. Sirius’ tone twisted then, to something more acidic; “But don’t worry, I didn’t dump my tragic childhood monologue on him. Thought I’d spare him the full tour of the Black family museum.”

A beat.

Sirius swallowed hard, jaw clenched tight; “And he can’t. Because if he sees all of that - if he really sees me? He won’t stay.”

Sirius’s voice was low and rough, trembling slightly with shame he tried to swallow down.
“Remus… he gets to me. More than I want him to.”

He avoided James’s eyes, staring down at the floor as if it could swallow him whole. His long curls fell in front of his face, shielding him from James’ caring eyes. Then he felt the softest stroke of fingers on his own hands, and he jumped slightly at the sudden touch. Sirius looked up, and for the first time met James’s eyes fully and unguarded - defiant, but underneath it, deeply tired and vulnerable. Tears started to form, and he felt his bottom lip tremble against his will.

“Oh Pads, come here.”

James opened his arms and wrapped them tightly around him. Sirius whimpered and as James stroked his hair lovingly, Sirius lost all self-control, as he sobbed against James soft flannel shirt.

“I feel like I’m ruining everything… and I don’t even know how - how to stop. I can’t fucking stop it”.

Sirius’ shoulder shook violently as the words were cut between gasping breaths. James gently rocked him, murmuring soft words of comfort. But it only made the tears fall harder. Sirius’ voice cracked, tinged with sadness; “I don’t know how to do this, James. I’m… I’m just so damn tired of feeling like I’m falling apart.”

Sirius felt James’ throat work as he swallowed back a sob of his own and it cut through him like the sharpest of blades. He let out a shaky breath, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m scared, okay? Scared I’m too broken, that I’m a bad friend, a bad person. Well, I am, and I don’t know why you guys stay around. I know I wouldn’t. Not if I had the chance to get away from me”.

A soft, loving laugh rumbled through James’ chest and vibrated against Sirius’ cheek. Then a deep sigh followed.

“Because we love you Sirius. I know it’s a foreign concept for you, but we do. Even when you’re a fucking pain in the ass.”

James released his grip and took a step back to look at him. He cupped Sirius’ wet face in his hands.

“You won’t be alone in this, I promise”.

Sirius huffed and rolled his eyes and dried his face with his sleeve.

“You’ve known me since we were kids Prongs. I feel bad for you, if you seriously still believe in me.”

James snorted and ruffled his hair affectionately; “Oh Pads, spare me your bloody dramatics. Now shut up for once in your miserable life while I instruct you on what’s going to happen.”

Sirius snorted at James’ direct tone and his impeccable ability to lighten the mood without making things awkward. He sighed and crossed his arms expectantly, bracing himself for whatever ‘James Potter stupidity’ that would come his way. James pointed at him.

“In order to regain my trust, you need to do the following”. James held up three fingers. Sirius frowned, unimpressed. James then held up one finger:

“One: You communicate with us, even if that means grunting and glaring in that wildly unpleasant ‘Black manner’ of yours. I’ll not tolerate your silent treatment or your pathological tendencies to bend the truth.” James raised a questioning eyebrow; “Are we clear?”

Sirius rolled his eyes but nodded despite himself; “Fine”.

“Good boy”, James teased, and a small heat started to spread across Sirius’ face. He looked away, as James continued, holding two fingers up in the air.

“Two: You come to me, Pete or Remus if shit hits the fan. I don’t care where or when. You always come to one of us. If I find out you’ve taken something again, so help me God, ‘cause I will not hesitate to use a language that I know, you’d understand”.

Sirius’ eyes widened as he swallowed. He knew James would never lay a finger on him or threaten to do so. It was just not in his nature - but Sirius knew James had other weapons that he could use when pushed to his absolute limit. In fact, there weren’t many things James wouldn’t do when it came down to Sirius.

“Clear?”

Sirius sent him a dark look; “Yes”.

James smiled mischievously; “Even better boy”.

Sirius flipped him off and walked past him so he could crash in the sofa. He was exhausted. And possibly a bit drunk, when he thought about it. He zoned out as James continued to talk.

“Third: You’re coming clean to Remus, so I know he’s in on this and know what’s going on”.

Sirius nodded absentmindedly, relieved that the talk was nearing its end. Then James’ words caught up to him and his head snapped up.

“What?”

“You heard me, Pads.” James’s tone left no room for protest. “You said it yourself; Remus gets to you. I need someone other than me, who can reach you. And, quite frankly, you need my expertise in this area, ‘cause you’re not capable of making good decisions regarding your personal life. Honestly, it’s a bit off-putting how bad you are at it.”

Sirius’ eyes widened in disbelief and his lips parted.

Did that four-eyed idiot really think he was more successful in that department?

James held up a hand to silence him, before Sirius could bombard him with profanities.

“Spare me. I’m not the one who’s crushing hopelessly on our poor, professional and very mature manager, who’s just trying to do his job”. Then James stilled and Sirius could almost see the damn lightbulb light up above his stupid head. Sirius shot him a look laced with warning as he slowly shook his head.

Don’t go there, Potter. Don’t you fucking dare.

 James’s grin stretched impossibly wide as he leaned back, grinning like a cat who caught the canary.

“This smells a lot like daddy issues to me. How very cliché of you”.

Sirius’s face flushed a deep red, a mix of irritation and embarrassment twisting his features. He glanced up briefly, meeting James’s amused gaze, then quickly looked away again, caught between embarrassment and something unspoken. James smiled even brighter. His face close to breaking apart.

“Oh Padsy, you’ve never been great at hiding what’s going on under that tough exterior. Spill it - what exactly happened that night between you and Remus?”.

James plopped down on the opposite sofa - the perfect vantage point for relentless nagging. Sirius’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he shook his head, tight lipped.

“I’m not telling you.”

James was flabbergasted as he covered his mouth with his hand. His eyes beaming.

“So, something happened! Come on, don’t leave me hanging. Was it just a kiss, or are we talking full-on ‘fiery manager’ takeover?”

Sirius couldn’t help it - his cheeks burned, and a nervous laugh slipped out despite himself.

“I’m not telling you. Now stop asking, you fucking pervert.”

Sirius grabbed a pillow and tossed it at James, hoping to knock away both his grin and the ache in his own chest. It hit him square in the face, throwing off his round glasses in the process. James caught them frantically.

“You’re one to talk”, he mumbled under his breath as he placed the glasses on the bridge of his nose. James adjusted his glasses with exaggerated care, then gave Sirius a look that was all too smug.

“You know,” he said casually, leaning back like he had all the time in the world, “for someone who supposedly isn’t going to tell me anything… you’re being remarkably defensive.”

Sirius groaned and let his head fall back onto the couch. “Because you’re insufferable.”

James grinned. “And yet, here we are. Best mates. Funny how that works.”

There was a brief silence - the kind that wasn’t quite comfortable but not entirely tense either. Then James softened just a little. His voice dipped, lost some of its mocking edge.

“Pads,” he said gently, “I’m not trying to embarrass you. I’m just… making sure you’re okay. And if there’s something with Remus — something real — you don’t have to hide it from me.”

Sirius stared at the ceiling, his jaw tight.

“It’s not simple,” he muttered.

James nodded. “It never is with you.”

That earned him a glare, but it didn’t stick. Sirius sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” he admitted quietly. “But he… he got under my skin.”

James tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “And now?”

Sirius looked away, then back again. His eyes were sharp, tired, and just a little haunted.

“Now I’m fucked.”

James blinked, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he gave a quiet, knowing laugh - not mocking, just resigned.

“Well,” he said, voice light but kind, “at least you’re self-aware.”

Chapter Text

The female journalist wore a short skirt that crept up her thighs with every movement. Her lips were perfectly red, closing around the end of a pen as she bit down on it. Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling her hungry gaze sweep over him. He swallowed as his eyes flicked towards Remus, who sat at the far back of the room, absorbed in his phone.

The journalist crossed her legs, the skirt slitting further, and leaned forward.

“So, Sirius, you’ve been quite the headline in the media before. How do you balance…personal freedom with living in such close quarters with your bandmates?”

Sirius blinked, surprised by her implications. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus frown briefly before returning to his calls, seemingly unfazed. Sirius cleared his throat slightly as he turned to look at the journalist.

“Well, we have rules on the bus,” he said cautiously, measuring his tone. “But not because of me.”

She smiled – quick and tight, as though she knew something he didn’t. It made his insides twist.

“So, the legend is exaggerated? Or perhaps carefully curated for the press? You seem to distance yourself from your public image – the one under your previous manager, Scott. Is it the result of new management?”

Yes

“No”

Sirius didn’t elaborate. To be fair, he had no idea what he was expected to say, and the conversation already felt one-sided. The journalist registered his silence and flicked her hair back as she continued.

“You’ve been under public scrutiny for some…controversial choices in the past. I’m sure you remember the tabloid photos. Was rehab truly a turning point, or will the fans see more of the old Sirius on tour?”

Oh, he remembered. Too well. How he’d been ripped to shreds. His private life was discussed like the weather or the morning news. In that period, Sirius had been public property, scandalous entertainment, while everything inside him hurt. The memories that didn’t haunt him were only blurred by the very thing, that had caused his problems – and, in a way, he was grateful for that. It shielded his sanity. But he had a nauseating feeling deep in his stomach. The same feeling that made him run to the bathroom and throw up after dreaming of wandering hands on his trembling body. Sirius knew all too well, that it hadn’t been a one-off. He remembered countless nights of him being dragged into dark cars, greedy hands, lights too bright, powdered lines on the sink. Mirrors showed nothing but disgust.

Even at that moment, the memories left him raw, and it hurt when someone poked at it. It hurt a lot.

Sirius swallowed hard and his skin prickled. He wanted to explain, to set things straight, but he didn’t have the words - and more discouraging, he didn’t think what he had to say would change anything. He couldn’t change the image he himself had helped create. He couldn’t outrun it. Part of him wanted to give in to the expectation, almost desperately, until his mother’s disapproving gaze slammed into his inner vision.

Fuck, he hadn’t changed at all. Still fucking things up in childish spite, incapable of managing his own mind.

Sirius felt the tension in the room, yet the journalist seemed untouched, unrelenting. Memories of his time in rehab crept in despite his best efforts to keep them at bay. He dropped his head quickly, fighting back the familiar sting in his eyes. His chest tightened, curled inward, as if trying to contain the shame. He felt small, like a disappointing child. A failure.

“I – “

“And your parents, Walburga and Orion Black. Publicly, they disowned you. Did they ever attempt reconciliation during your time in rehab?”

Sirius almost laughed at the absurdity. The idea of his family paying him a visit in rehab was delusional – they would never stoop so low as to breathe the same air as him again. Yet the question still struck a lonely chord in his chest, the part of him that had desperately cried out for James night after night. Sirius felt his throat tighten, closing around words he couldn’t force out. He registered movement in the back of the room as Remus stood.

“No”, he choked out as he forced himself to meet the journalist’s eyes, even though it nearly caused him physical pain. He clenched his teeth.

“I hear your bandmates didn’t visit either. You were completely isolated for what, a month?”

Four.

Sirius’ mouth went dry. Even though her assumptions were wrong, they still hurt him deeply. He felt his pulse in his ears, like a steady, demanding drum. He tried to calm it with a deep exhale as he answered.

“That’s not – I didn’t want them to –“.

The journalist ignored him as she adjusted her notepad, then casually, slid her phone across the table. Sirius’ eyes widened in horror as recognition hit him with full force. He saw himself pinned face-first against the wet pavement outside a nightclub, one officer pressing his shoulder down while another cuffed his wrists. His hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt torn. The flash of cameras caught every detail, highlighting the tension in his tattooed arms, the hurting grimace on his face.

*Swipe*. Himself again, being roughly shoved up against the side of a police car, his torso pressed against the cold metal, legs buckling under the force. The officers gripping him firmly, and his head snapped slightly as a hand shoved him into place.

The journalist leaned forward, sliding the phone toward him, her smile sharp and cruel. “The night you couldn’t control yourself. The first of many”.

Sirius frowned as he felt his body tense up, fearing the worst as another photo appeared in front of him. On the screen, bright and cruel under the overhead lights, was a photo Sirius knew too well — his head tipped back, pupils blown wide, a stranger’s hand at his throat. His stomach lurched. The journalist swiped, slow and deliberate, her manicured finger gliding across the glass.

Another shot: Sirius half-collapsed in the backseat of a car, a drink spilling down his exposed chest, leaving a glinting trail down his abs, a blur of flashing cameras all around him and three beautiful women at his side.

“Fans say this one looks almost…iconic,” the journalist mused, her lips curling. “Rockstar self-destruction. Do you see it that way, or just regret?”

Sirius’ hands twitched against his knees. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t drag his eyes away.

*Swipe*. A bathroom mirror, too-bright light, white lines spread across the sink. His own face staring hollow and cloudy eyed from the reflection. He looked more dead than alive.

“This one resurfaced last night. It’s already climbing the feeds.” Her tone was clinical, detached — as if discussing the music charts, not his humiliation. “It must be strange, to have your lowest moments packaged as entertainment.”

The roar in his ears drowned everything else. Heat burned under his collar, his throat locked tight. His skin crawled, every memory clawing back to the surface at once. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

*Swipe*. A photo of him in a hotel bed, draped over someone else — faceless, nameless, their hands possessive, greedy.

The bile rose in Sirius’ chest, sharp and acidic. His body screamed at him to move, to shove the phone away,

“No.” The word tore from him suddenly, hoarse and sharp. His hand shot out, shoving the phone back across the table toward her. It skidded against the wood, the screen still lit, those images still bleeding into his vision. His gaze flicked to Remus, feeling the weight of exposure like a second skin. Shame, humiliation, and longing wrapped tight around him — Remus seeing these moments, hearing her dissect them…he couldn’t breathe.

“I’m not— I don’t want to—” His voice cracked, splintered, as if speaking the refusal cost him something vital.

The journalist only arched an expectant eyebrow, lips twitching with a cruel sort of satisfaction, as though his protest was exactly what she’d been fishing for. Her gaze locked on him, sharp, relentless.

“Tell me, Sirius. Which one is the real you? Which man will your fans see on stage this tour? And will he, once again, be making headlines for all the wrong reasons?”

She reached for the phone, finger poised to swipe again. But the device vanished before she touched it, pocketed in one swift motion. Remus stood between them then, broad shoulders blocking the table, his posture sharp, deliberate. Sirius’ stomach curled tight.

“That’s enough,” Remus said, his voice low but sharp. He looked down at the journalist with brown and steady eyes. His arms were crossed at his chest as he stepped forward. “This doesn’t concern you, and Sirius doesn’t owe you answers.”

The journalist’s smirk faltered. Relief flooded Sirius, and his shoulders slumped as the tension that had tightened his chest eased just enough for him to breathe. Remus gave a subtle nod, silently signalling that the interview was over.

-.-.-

Sirius hurried down the corridor as soon as he left the room, not stopping to let Remus catch up. He quickly wiped away the tears that threatened to fall and sniffled, his body trembling with rage and humiliation. Each step seemed to feed the fire inside him.

“Hey, Sirius wait!”

But he didn’t. He pushed forward to the back exit, wanting nothing more than to get home. Part of him wanted to thank Remus for stepping in, but in that moment, he found it incredibly hard to be thankful for anything or anyone. He felt disgusting. Then a big, warm hand grabbed his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“Hold on a minute”. Remus’ voice was warm and kind, threaded with patience and comfort, and it cut right through Sirius’ storm. He huffed and tried to shake Remus off.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Remus let out a soft sigh and squeezed his shoulder gently. The warm feeling seeped through and wrapped around Sirius’ anger, slowly tugging at his defences.

“Okay. You don’t have to talk. But can you at least turn around so I can look at you?”.

Sirius wanted to run, to argue, to break something - preferably himself. But Remus’ calm, steady voice anchored him. Like everything was going to be okay. Like the interview hadn’t been a fucking disaster, like he wasn’t a hopeless mess, left naked and exposed for the world to see. Sirius drew a shaky breath and reluctantly turned to Remus, but he couldn’t look up, couldn’t meet his eyes — not when every headline screamed through his skull, not when those pictures still burned behind his eyelids.

Sirius’ chest stuttered, refusing air. Every inhale scraped, every exhale burned. Then warmth. A hand, gentle but sure, settled against the back of his neck. Sirius stiffened at first, shame flaring hot in his chest — but Remus’ thumb brushed slow, steady circles into his skin and then a finger tilted his chin to meet his eyes. Remus looked at him with something soft, almost tender. A silent tear slipped down Sirius’ cheek. He fought it – the warmth, the safety, the steady arms – because he didn’t deserve any of it. But his body betrayed him. His shoulders sagged and he collapsed into Remus’ embrace, feeling the warmth of his arms wrap around him, fingers threading gently through his curls. He suddenly felt tired deep into his soul. His face pressed into the crook of Remus’ neck, hot tears continuing to spill before he could stop them. He hated it. Hated being seen. Hated himself. Remus hummed, steady and unbothered, like the storm inside Sirius wasn’t tearing him apart.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

The endearment cut straight through him, too soft and too kind. Sirius clenched his teeth, trying to hold it back, his chest rattling with the effort. He didn’t want to fall apart – not here, not in Remus’ arms. But the foreign tenderness shattered him. The sob ripped free, raw and ugly. He tried to swallow it down, but it clawed free anyway. Sirius’ shoulder shook violently in Remus’ hold.

“It’s okay. You’re okay”. Remus voice was soft as he continued to stroke his hair.

Sirius let out a long, shaky exhale. After a few minutes he pulled away slightly, trembling, as he took a step back and slid down against the wall, the cool surface doing little to calm the heat in his chest. A part of him wanted to tell Remus everything - the photos, the insinuations, the way the journalist had drilled into his past - but the words stuck, lodged somewhere between shame and pride. He could feel Remus’ steady gaze, patient and expectant, and it made the humiliation worse.

James’ demand of coming clean to Remus echoed in Sirius’ agitated mind and he winced slightly at the thought. At the deep discomfort that it left behind in him. This was just the tip of the very disturbing iceberg that was Sirius Black. He buried his face in his hands, not able to meet Remus’ eyes.

“I fucking hate that you saw that”. The mumbled admission made his cheeks burn and he tried to contain the awkward vulnerability that threatened to spill over. He heard Remus stepping closer, and then his warmth as he crouched down in front of him.

“Why?”.

Sirius groaned. “Because it’s humiliating. And because I don’t want you seeing that part of me”.

The words were out before he knew it, and Sirius swallowed hard as he mentally strangled himself. A low, dangerous chuckle came from Remus, and he gently pried Sirius’ hands from his burning face. Sirius let out a small sound of defeat as Remus held his arms at his sides.

“Sirius. If there’s any truth to what was said in there or to how those pictures portrayed you, I still know how it gets twisted. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t matter. Not to me at least”.

Remus released his hands and tugged a strand of hair behind Sirius’ ear, his touch light and reassuring.

“That was a low blow. You were hurting and what happened in there wasn’t fair or professional. The interview will never see the light of day. I’ll make sure of it”.

Sirius blinked at him as he felt a strange calmness took hold in his body. Like someone took control and responsibility for the chaos he couldn’t navigate. And then, gradually, a small smirk tugged at the corners of Remus’ lips. It made Sirius frown slightly.

“You know, Starshine”, Remus said softly, voice teasing now. “I’m very honoured that my impression means so much to you”.

Sirius gasped and instinctively shoved him in the chest. Remus toppled back onto his ass, laughing.

“You smug…bastard”, Sirius muttered, though the sharp edge of his voice had softened.

Remus got to his feet, grinning and brushing himself off, entirely unbothered by Sirius’ glare. A smile still lingered at his lips.

“Quite the statement from someone who seemingly enjoyed my mouth on him not too many days ago”.

Sirius’ eyes widened in shock and he waved his hands frantically. “Stop talking. Stop!”. He felt his skin burn all the way down his neck. He normally wasn’t modest by a long shot. Remus sent him a pointed look.

“Well, we wouldn’t be talking if it was up to you, since you’ve been actively avoiding me ever since that night”.

Sirius looked up at him from under his dark lashes as Remus continued. “Not your brightest idea seeing I am your manager, but I admire your efforts”.

Sirius rolled his eyes and flipped him off before standing to his feet.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The night air hit Sirius like a slap. Cool, sharp, merciless. He tugged his jacket tighter around himself, though the chill in his chest had nothing to do with the weather. Remus walked a step behind, silent, patient as always.

“You don’t have to walk me home,” Sirius muttered, keeping his eyes on the pavement.

“I know,” Remus said simply. No argument, no push. Just steady footsteps keeping pace with his.

Sirius swallowed hard. He wanted to say something - needed to say something. James’ voice echoed in his skull: You’re coming clean to Remus. He gets to you. But the thought of opening his mouth, of letting those words out, made his stomach twist. His throat already felt raw from choking down answers he hadn’t given. They walked in silence, but Sirius’ head was working overtime, and when they reached his front door, he wasn’t closer to a solution. He couldn’t muster up the energy to invite Remus inside or ask him to leave. He slowly unlocked the door and his stomach flipped as he noticed Remus following him quietly inside. He couldn’t turn back now. He was trapped.

Once inside, Sirius immediately raked both hands through his hair, pacing the length of the dimly lit hallway like a trapped animal. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop the burn in his chest. Remus leaned quietly against the doorframe, watching him. Calm, patient, infuriating. Sirius stopped suddenly, pressing his palms hard against his eyes. His breath shook.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, I can’t -” His voice cracked, raw. He dropped his hands, glaring at Remus as if it was his fault, almost regretting not slamming the door in his pretty face. “I can’t say it.”

Remus straightened slowly, brows slightly furrowed. “Say what?”

Sirius’ chest rose and fell too fast, and he wanted to scream. “It’s James - he wanted me to - he made me swear I’d tell you. That I’d finally get it out and come clean before leaving for tour. But I can’t. I can’t even start.” His voice wavered into something small, almost boyish. “I don’t know how.”

He turned away, pressing his fists against the edge of the table as though it might hold him up. Silence pressed around them, suffocating. Then, in a hoarse whisper, Sirius begged:

“You need to drag it out of me, Moony. Please. I can’t fucking do it on my own.”

The plea hung between them, desperate and trembling. Remus crossed the room, footsteps deliberate, until he was close enough that Sirius could feel the warmth of him at his side. He didn’t touch him - he just spoke, voice low and steady.

“Alright. Then let me help. But only if you want me to.”

Sirius’ head snapped up, eyes glassy, fierce with need and fear all tangled together. “I do want to. I just -” He broke off, fists slamming once against the table before he sagged, defeated.

“Just… don’t let me run from it.”

For a long moment, Remus studied him, jaw tight with quiet determination. Then he reached out, gently gripping Sirius’ wrist - not to restrain, but to anchor.

“I won’t let you run,” he said softly. “But I won’t hurt you either. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Sirius shuddered, torn wide open by the combination of patience and resolve. His lips parted, the words burning at the back of his throat, desperate for release. He swallowed hard.

“Then - ask me. Whatever you have to. Just - make me talk.” His voice cracked on the last word, and the plea sounded like surrender.

Remus’ hand tightened, steady and unyielding. His brown eyes held Sirius’ fractured gaze, and Sirius felt something break inside, something that had been bricked up for years.

Remus guided him into the living room area, nudging him down onto one of the couches. Sirius sat stiffly, shoulders hunched, eyes darting anywhere but at Remus. His hands clenched into fists on his knees, trembling with contained panic. Remus sat opposite, calm but alert, as if handling something fragile.

“Alright,” he said softly. “You asked me to drag it out. So I will. But I need you to trust me enough not to fight me on every word.”

Sirius swallowed, throat dry. His whole body screamed at him to get up, to escape, to deflect with a joke - but he stayed rooted.

Remus leaned forward slightly. “Let’s start with this. The photos. The stories. The ones they still bring up. Do you want to tell me what’s true?”

Sirius’ chest tightened like a vice. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then shook his head violently. “I can’t. I - fuck, Moony, I can’t.”

“You don’t have to give me details,” Remus said gently. “Just… was it as bad as they made it out to be?”

Sirius let out a bitter, broken sound. His hands went to his hair, gripping it like he could tear the answer out of his skull.

“Worse,” he whispered, eyes at his lap.

The word hit like a stone. Sirius’ breath hitched, chest heaving. He looked at Remus at last, eyes wild, defiant and begging all at once.

Remus didn’t flinch. “Okay,” he said quietly, nodding. “Then worse. Thank you for telling me that much.”

Sirius shook his head, half-angry. “That’s nothing. That’s not even -” His voice cracked, trembling with unshed words. “It’s not enough, is it? James wanted me to fucking spill everything, but I can’t - I don’t even know how to start without – without -” His throat closed around the rest.

Remus moved to the cushion beside him, close but not crowding. His hand rested lightly on Sirius’ clenched fist, the warmth steady, grounding. Sirius looked down at their connected hands with a slight frown.

“Then let me help you start. One piece at a time. You don’t owe me a confession. But if you want me to know, I’ll keep asking until you can breathe through it.”

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. His body trembled under the weight of both relief and terror. The urge to bolt clawed at him, but Remus’ quiet presence tethered him.

“Moony…” His voice was ragged. “If I give you even a sliver, you’ll see what I am. And then you’ll-”

“Stay,” Remus cut in gently, but firm. “I’ll stay.”

Sirius made a broken sound in his throat, halfway between a laugh and a sob. His hands shook violently. He shook his head.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he muttered. “You think you do, but if I open this door -” His voice cracked. “You won’t like what’s on the other side.”

Remus’ gaze stayed steady, unflinching. “You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle.”

Sirius dragged a trembling hand over his face, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow. “Then ask me again,” he whispered, not even convinced himself that he meant it.

Remus gave him a long look, scanned his pained features before sucking in a breath. “Tell me about them. The photos. Do you remember that time?”  

Sirius’ breath caught. He blinked at Remus like he’d been struck, then dropped his gaze to the floor again, jaw clenched. He wanted to hurl something - anger, insults, anything to break the unbearable tenderness pressing down on him.

“I can’t. I can’t.” He shoved off the couch, pacing restlessly, hands pulling at his hair. “Fuck, I’m pathetic. James thought this was a good idea - thought I’d magically grow the balls to do it - but look at me! I can’t even -”

He broke off, chest heaving, back turned. Sirius’ chest rose and fell; his fists pressed against the wall. He was wound so tight he felt like his body might split under the strain. Remus didn’t say anything this time. He just stepped that final bit closer and laid a steady hand against the side of Sirius’ neck, thumb brushing lightly over the rapid pulse there. Sirius froze. His breath hitched sharp and shallow, eyes darting up to Remus’ face like a cornered animal.

“Breathe,” Remus murmured. His touch didn’t push or pull - it anchored. His thumb pressed gently, coaxing, grounding. Sirius’ lips parted in a silent gasp. The trembling in his arms spread through his whole body, and before he could stop himself, he sagged forward. His forehead thudded against Remus’ shoulder, his hands catching at the fabric of his shirt like he might drown without it. The sound that tore from Sirius’ throat wasn’t a word - it was raw, fractured, almost a sob. Remus wrapped both arms around him instantly, strong and steady, holding him like he’d been waiting for Sirius to collapse. His palm slid up and down Sirius’ back in slow, even strokes, not rushing him, not demanding a thing.

“Shhh,” Remus whispered into his curls. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Sirius shook violently against him, muffled words slipping out against Remus’ chest before he could catch them. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t just me being reckless… I didn’t… I didn’t…”

He broke off, choking on his own voice, the weight of the unsaid words pressing heavy between them. Remus didn’t flinch. He only held Sirius tighter, his lips brushing Sirius’ temple.

“You don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready.”

But Sirius clawed at his shirt with desperate fingers, as if the pressure alone might force the truth out of him.

“I can’t stop seeing it. Feeling it. Every time I close my eyes -” He cut off with a sharp, pained gasp, like the memory itself had struck him. Remus pressed a hand gently to the back of his head, urging his face back against his shoulder.

“You don’t need to carry it alone anymore. Give me a piece. Just one piece. I’ll keep it safe for you.”

Sirius’ whole body shook, torn between collapse and silence. And then, finally, a single broken word slipped free, so quiet Remus almost didn’t hear it.

“Hands.”

The single word tore out of him. He folded into Remus like he could hide inside him, breath hitching in sharp, broken bursts. Remus closed his eyes, swallowing and simply whispered: “Alright. I hear you.”

And in that small, trembling admission, Sirius felt the tiniest release - like the first thread being pulled free, but the word had gutted him. He pressed his face deeper into Remus’ shoulder, trembling.

“Hands,” he repeated, the sound broken, shameful. “Everywhere. I couldn’t stop them.” His fists tightened in Remus’ shirt, knuckles white. “Maybe I didn’t even want to. I thought if I… if I wasn’t alone… it wouldn’t…”.

The rest dissolved into a ragged sob. Remus’ grip firmed around him, not suffocating but solid, an unmovable presence. He rubbed slow circles into Sirius’ back.

“You don’t have to make it make sense. Just let it out. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sirius shuddered violently, words spilling in broken fragments between gasps. “Cars - dark cars - pulled in, doors slamming, laughing, hotel rooms, always - always someone watching, touching -” He broke off, gagging on the memory, shaking his head like he could fling it out of his skull.

“Easy, love. Easy.” Remus’ voice was low, even, the calm anchor to Sirius’ storm. He cupped the back of Sirius’ head, thumb smoothing through sweat-damp curls. He then brushed a few strands away from his forehead.

“They never stopped,” Sirius whispered hoarsely. “’Cause I never asked them to - it was easier if I just…” His voice cracked and broke away completely, a muffled cry swallowed against Remus’ chest.

“I just needed someone, anyone, to distract me”. Another sob forced its way out of his body. “To get me out of my head.”

 Remus swallowed deeply. “I hear you,” he murmured, lips at Sirius’ hairline. “You were just lonely.”

Sirius shook his head desperately, body jerking with the effort of denial. “Don’t say that - don’t - if you knew how disgusting - how wrong -”

Remus pulled back just enough to cup Sirius’ jaw in one hand, forcing his tear-filled eyes to meet his. His voice was steady, unshakable. “You are not disgusting. You were hurting and that’s okay.”

The words landed like a blow, sharp and overwhelming. Sirius whimpered and crumbled further, the walls finally buckling. “Sometimes I can’t fucking stand it anymore, Moons,” he confessed in a voice so raw it hardly sounded like him. “I can’t -”

“You don’t have to,” Remus whispered fiercely, pulling him back into his arms, holding him like he could fuse them together. “Not while I’m here.”

And Sirius broke, sobbing openly now, clutching onto Remus like a lifeline. Sirius’ sobs eventually softened into hiccupping breaths, but his body still trembled, restless in Remus’ arms. His hand fisted in the fabric of Remus’ sleeve, knuckles raw from how tightly he gripped.

“I… I wasn’t just -” He stopped, throat closing up. A frustrated growl escaped him as he shoved at his own chest, like the words were trapped inside.

Remus stroked his arm slowly. “You don’t need to force it”.

Sirius’ eyes burned, wide and wild, darting anywhere but at Remus, determined to force the words out. “It wasn’t just them,” he whispered, each syllable like it scraped down his throat. “It was me too. I… I needed things. Lines, pills - anything. I’d crawl to it.” His voice cracked. “Didn’t matter what. Didn’t matter who. Just - make it quiet for a while.”

Remus’ hand stilled, but his voice stayed level, steady. “You were trying to survive.”

“No.” Sirius’ voice was ragged, desperate, self-loathing. “Don’t - you can’t make it sound noble, Moony. I wanted it. I wanted it so fucking bad. I begged for it. I -” His chest heaved, and he broke off with a sob, dragging both hands through his hair like he wanted to rip it out.

“Sometimes, I don’t know if I even know who I am without it.”

Remus’ fingers closed gently over Sirius’ wrists, grounding him, pulling his hands down before he hurt himself.

“You’re Sirius,” he said softly. “Even now. Even broken and shaking and telling me the worst of it - you’re still you.”

Something in Sirius’ face crumpled. His lips parted, breath hitched, and another tear slid free. “But I was… gone, Moons. For months. I’d wake up in places I didn’t remember walking into, and there’d be -” His throat closed around the words, a sob choking him. “…powder on the sink. Bruises I couldn’t explain. I don’t even know what half of it was.”

He pressed his forehead to Remus’ collarbone, voice small, ruined. “I was a fucking ghost. I don’t know why anyone still wants me around.”

Remus gathered him closer, one hand curling protectively around the back of his head. His lips brushed Sirius’ temple as he spoke, quiet and resolute: “I want you around. Exactly as you are. That’s enough for me.”

Sirius clung to Remus’ shirt like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth. His breath was shallow, uneven, but the silence stretched too long and the pressure inside him finally cracked.

“I OD’d.”

The words fell out, blunt, ugly, like stones in the quiet. He froze, waited for something - judgment, recoil - but Remus only tightened his arms around him. Sirius’ throat worked, and then it all came tumbling.

“Not once. Not just once. Too many times. Woke up with strangers throwing water on me. Sometimes I didn’t wake up for hours. And - and I didn’t care. I didn’t fucking care if I didn’t wake at all.” His voice broke into a raw whisper. “Maybe I wanted that.”

Remus’ breath hitched, almost imperceptible, but his touch never faltered.

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head violently. “I let people - fuck, I don’t even remember who - use me just to get another hit. Backseat of cars, bathroom floors, hands everywhere, I -” His voice dissolved into a choked sob. “I traded myself like I was nothing, because it meant I could forget for a few hours. I can’t stand thinking about it, Moony, it’s rotting me inside.”

His hands curled into fists against Remus’ chest, trembling. He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. Felt the shame stick to him like a second skin.

“And the photos - you saw them, everyone saw them - they didn’t even catch half of it. Half the shit I did never made it to the papers, thank God. If James knew - if you really knew - you’d never -” His voice broke again, panic sparking through the shame. “You’d never want me near you.”

Remus’ hand cupped the back of his neck, firm, grounding, as his forehead pressed to Sirius’. His voice was steady, low, unwavering.

“You think I don’t want you? That all I’ll see is what you did to survive? Sirius - you’re here. You’re alive. That’s what I see.”

Sirius sobbed hard, whole body collapsing into Remus like a man too exhausted to hold himself up anymore. His voice was hoarse, almost childlike.

“But it was so fucking dirty, Moons. I was dirty. I still feel it under my skin.”

Remus pulled him closer, one hand rubbing his back, the other stroking through tangled curls. Sirius’ sobs had turned ragged, his words tumbling over themselves like he couldn’t get them out fast enough.

“There’s more - you don’t know the half - I lied to James, I lied to everyone, I -” He dragged in a shuddering breath, “Please, you need to know what I’ve done.”

Remus tilted his chin up, once again forcing Sirius to meet his eyes. His hand slid to the back of Sirius’ neck, fingers firm, steady. “Listen to me. You don’t have to empty yourself all in one night.”

“Yes, I do,” Sirius rasped, eyes wild. “I need you to drag it out, all of it, every filthy piece, because I can’t - I’ll never -” He broke off with another sob, pressing his forehead to Remus’ collarbone. “If I don’t do this. If I don’t get it all out there, I’ll just fuck it up again.”

Remus pressed a hand against Sirius’ chest, firm but gentle. “You won’t and it’s enough for tonight.” He kissed the crown of Sirius’ head, voice like a low anchor in the storm. “You’re exhausted. You’re shaking. If you keep clawing yourself open, you’ll bleed out before you get to the heart of it.”

Sirius let out a strangled noise, half-protest, half-desperation. His hands fisted in Remus’ shirt, like he couldn’t decide whether to fight or cling. “Don’t tell me to stop - don’t let me stop -”

“I’m not telling you to stop forever,” Remus soothed, brushing damp curls from his face. “I’m telling you to rest. To breathe. I’ll still be here tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. You can tell me everything, piece by piece. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sirius sagged against him, trembling, his breath hitching like he was running out of fight. Then Remus slowly coaxed him toward the bathroom, his hand never leaving Sirius’ back. Sirius stumbled after him, half-protesting still.

“But you don’t understand, Moons, there’s so much – you need to know what you’re dealing with”

“I’ll understand it better once you’ve slept,” Remus interrupted softly, turning on the shower and guiding Sirius toward the steam. As Sirius gave a small nod of approval, Remus slowly undressed him. Sirius leaned against the tiled wall, shoulders heaving. He let the warm spray mist over his face. A small, miserable whimper escaped him and his voice cracked, smaller now in the quiet bathroom.

“Scott hated me. Used to call me a fucking slut, and it only hurt so much because he was right – we both knew he was.”

Two firm hands cupped his face, forcing his foggy gaze up, and without the tiniest ounce of doubt, Remus’ brown eyes bore into his own.

“You are no such thing. You are beautiful. So, so incredibly beautiful.” Remus traced Sirius’ trembling lips with the tip of his thumb. The words cut through Sirius’ panic, and he sent Remus a sad smile as he shook his head, defeated. “You’re delusional.”

Remus huffed quietly as his hand continued down Sirius’ neck, across the collarbone and finally resting above his beating heart. Sirius shivered, closing his eyes, and let Remus ease him under the water, letting the sensation soothe the aching pain swirling around inside of him.

Chapter Text

Sirius threw a pair of leather trousers into his bag with enough force to make James frown and sigh in exasperation.

“Still sulking?” James asked, keeping his voice light but bracing for impact. He sat at a chair in Sirius’ bedroom, watching his pathetic attempt of packing for tour.

“Sulking,” Sirius repeated, drawing the word out like it tasted bad, felt it sting on his tongue. “That’s what you call betrayal these days?” He shot James a sharp look over his shoulder.

James sighed, rubbing at his temples. “Pads, you had to tell him. We made a deal. Besides, it’s better for all of us that Remus is kept in the loop of things.”

Sirius scoffed, spreading his arms theatrically. “Oh, thank you, Saint Potter. Truly, what would I do without your shining wisdom? Oh wait - I’d be going on tour without a manager who looks at me like I’m a ticking time bomb.”

“That’s not what Remus thinks,” James retorted. “He just wants you safe.”

Sirius turned his back to James, rummaging through his chaotic closet as he spat. “You’ve got no fucking clue how bad it was, Prongs. It was a bloody disaster.”

Sirius could sense James straighten himself in the chair. “I’m sure Remus didn’t think it was a disaster.”

“That’s because you weren’t there.” Sirius turned around, wrinkled shirts clutched in his hands. “You didn’t hear me – Christ - I couldn’t even look him in the eye, James. I sucked at it.”

Sirius threw the shirts in the bag, not even bothering folding them, before he turned to the dresser, leaning against it, cigarette dangling unlit between his fingers like a prop.

“You didn’t have to watch his face when I tripped over every word. You didn’t have to feel how small I felt, sitting there like some pathetic addict begging for mercy.”

James sighed, slowly rising from the chair, nearing Sirius like he was a wounded animal.

“You’re twisting this. Remus wasn’t judging you.”

Sirius buried his hand deep in his pocket, searching for his lighter. “Maybe not out loud.” He lit the cigarette at last, inhaling like it was armour. Smoke curled around his words as he nodded at James. “But thanks to you, now he knows every sordid, sick detail. He gets to see me as the washed up, pathetic addict. And you -” Sirius jabbed the cigarette in James’ direction. “You made it happen.”

Sirius knew the sting in his voice was uncalled for. Knew he punished his best friend unfairly, but he had to direct his storm at something, someone, before it ruined him. He watched James’ jaw tighten, that familiar bristle he’d seen a thousand times before.

“I made it happen because you needed to stop hiding. Because if you’d kept all that buried, it would’ve eaten you alive on tour. I’d rather have you hating me now than watching you burn out halfway.”

Sirius blew out a harsh cloud of smoke, eyes narrowing as he shielded himself. James took a step closer, only inches from Sirius’ face.

“You’re just too bloody scared to admit I was right.” His best mate’s eyes sparkled with barely concealed anger.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

Sirius took a drag, exhaled smoke deliberately into James’ space. James’ nostrils flared. He stood with fists clenched, glaring at Sirius with a coldness he rarely showed, and something clenched tightly deep in Sirius’ stomach at the sight. He slammed his suitcase shut so hard the lid bounced open again.

“You don’t get it, James. You never bloody get it.”

James groaned, rubbing his face. “Here we go -”

“Don’t you dare,” Sirius barked, jabbing a finger at him, feeling his anger beginning to boil in his veins. “Don’t you dare act like I’m just being dramatic. You made me look like a wreck, a fucking charity case in front of Remus, and now you’re standing there pretending you saved me?”

And then James’ patience snapped. “Oh, for fucks’ sake -” He lunged forward, grabbing Sirius by the slim shoulders. Sirius shoved him back hard, nearly toppling him into a half-packed amp case.

“Don’t touch me!” Sirius snarled, eyes blazing, heart in his throat at the sudden contact.

“Then stop acting like a child!” James roared back.

That did it. Sirius’s inner contact switched, and he threw himself at James, fists balled, all fury and pride. They crashed into the bed frame, grappling like boys again but with far more weight behind it now. Sirius fought wild, dirty, teeth bared; James’ grip was measured, too steady, and it only stoked Sirius’ fury. It flared wildly.

“Get the fuck off me!” Sirius spat, twisting violently.

Then strong hands wrapped firmly around his waist, and he felt James slam him roughly onto the mattress, straddling him, holding his wrists to the sheets with brute force.

“CALM. THE FUCK. DOWN!” he bellowed, inches from Sirius’ face.

Sirius bucked beneath him, breath coming ragged, every muscle straining. James leaned in harder, chest heaving, unmovable as stone.

“Look at you,” James panted. “You’re tearing yourself apart because you’d rather hate me than admit you’re scared.”

“Better scared than pathetic!” Sirius shouted, his voice breaking on the last word.

James shook his head, sweat dripping down his temple now. “You’re not pathetic. You’re my best mate, and I’m quite sure you’re soon to be a whole lot more to Remus. But if you don’t get your head on straight, Pads, you’re going to ruin yourself. And I am not watching that happen.”

Sirius let out a strangled sound - half-scream, half-sob - and for a second, he fought like hell. Fought like the weight from his best friend was crushing him, killing everything he had inside of him. James bore down harder, the mattress dipping and with each sharp and uneven breath Sirius’ chest rose and fell beneath his grip. James’ voice was lowering but still fierce.

“You hear me, Sirius? Calm. The fuck. Down.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed with rage at the command. At the loss of control. He refused to stop. Couldn’t stop. He didn’t have it in him. Every cell and every nerve burned with rage and hurt, and he just needed it to stop. Needed to distance himself from the intensity of his own mind, but he couldn’t escape, could barely contain it. James gritted his teeth at Sirius’ continuously thrashing beneath him and shook him against the mattress, like he could shake some sanity into him.

“ENOUGH!”

Sirius bucked, wild-eyed, spitting curses. “Get the fuck off me -”

“NO!” James roared, leaning his weight down, pinning Sirius like iron. His voice was sharp enough to cut through Sirius’ frenzy.

“You’re acting like a lunatic, and I’m done taking it.”

Sirius thrashed again, legs kicking, but James trapped one under his knee, holding him immovable. “You can bite, scratch, scream all you like,” James panted, sweat dripping onto Sirius’ collarbone. “But you are NOT stronger than me. And you are NOT going to ruin yourself because you’d rather be angry than face the truth.”

At that, Sirius stilled for half a second, chest heaving, eyes blazing pure hate. “You fucking asshole -”

James slammed his wrists harder into the sheets, cutting him off. “You’re the fucking asshole. And you’re going to fucking listen for once in your life.”

Sirius strained again, a guttural sound tearing from his throat, but James bore down harder again, jaw tight, every muscle holding him in place. Sirius was close to spitting in James’ face. Anything to make his stoic, unbreakable control falter. Anything to make him let go. James shook his head, maddeningly deliberate. It made Sirius’ fury spike.

“Calm. Down.” James’ words were low, stern, his face inches from Sirius’. “Or I’ll keep you here all night.”

For a long, ragged moment Sirius fought - truly fought. Even pinned, even held down by James’ sheer strength, he fought like a man possessed - thrashing, twisting, jerking his wrists so hard the tendons stood out white. Every muscle and every joint were aching and burning. His hair stuck to his sweat-slick face, eyes blazing with rage that bordered on madness. He welcomed the pain, forced it out on his own body, as if it could move from hurting in his chest.

“Pads -” James grunted, straining to hold him down. “Stop. You’re going to wreck yourself.”

“Don’t you – fucking tell me - what to do!” Sirius spat, wrenching sideways, legs kicking uselessly against James’ weight. His voice was hoarse now, every shout scraping his throat raw, but still he fought, snarling like an animal in a trap.

James tightened his grip, pinning him harder. “You’re done, Sirius. Calm down!”

“NO!” Sirius roared, bucking wildly, veins standing out in his neck. “I’ll never – bloody - stop”.

His voice cracked on the last word, but his body kept flailing, every motion more desperate, more ragged, less controlled. He slowly felt how reality and his inner turmoil melted together, and he couldn’t tell where the fight against himself ended and the fight against James began. He just wanted out of this. Out of himself.

“Pads!” James barked, almost pleading now. “Please stop. You’re only hurting yourself -”

But Sirius couldn’t hear him, wouldn’t hear him. He jerked, kicked, twisted until finally his strength betrayed him, sizzled out. His movements grew weaker, frantic but failing, every attempt at freedom dissolving into trembling exhaustion. His muscles gave in to James’ iron grip. The realization left a sinking feeling in his chest.

“Let me go,” Sirius gasped, voice breaking in places. “James – fucking - let me go -.” He writhed uselessly beneath James’ hold, desperation bleeding into his tone. “I can’t - just let go of me!”

Something shifted in James’ gaze, wet at the edges, though Sirius couldn’t bear to name it, but he held firm.

“Not when you’re like this. Not when you’re tearing yourself apart.”

Sirius swallowed thickly, forcing down the bile turning in his stomach as a piercing memory slammed against his subconsciousness. He felt it, before he recognized it. The all-consuming panic and terror of being forced down, misunderstood, in rage and in agony. Nothing to take away that unbearable ripping feeling inside of him. He turned his face away from James, gritting his teeth.

No, no, no. Not that. Anything but that.

But it was too late. The memory was already set in motion and Sirius felt himself sink.

Rehab, Day 5

Too bright overhead lights. Cold linoleum beneath his bare, burning feet. He's pacing, chest heaving, too keyed up to sit, too angry to cry. He can’t rest. Can’t breathe. A nurse approaches slowly - young, kind eyes.

“Sirius. You're not in trouble. But we can’t let you walk around like this. You’re agitated. We need you to come sit with us.”

He backs up, meets the wall. “No. No, don’t - don’t do that. Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking child.”

His hands are trembling. His whole body shakes like a live wire. The cold sweat is dampening his shirt. Something deep under his skin is screaming, and he can’t reach. No one can. He wants to crack open his own skull, stop the splitting headache, and make them remove what’s hurting him from the inside.

“You’re in withdrawal. Your brain’s not your enemy, it’s just confused. Please, Sirius. Come with me.”

“I said don’t touch me!”

She gently reaches for his arm, and he jerks back violently, slamming into the wall, scaring himself in the process, wincing at the cold feeling against his burning skin. Then he lashes out - not to hurt her, but to get space. His hands are flailing, eyes wide with panic.

“DON’T - get off - don’t put your hands on me!”

Staff members rush in from the other end of the hall. Calm but firm.

“Hey, hey. Sirius. You’re safe, okay? But we can’t let you keep swinging. We’re stepping in.”

“Don’t - don’t hold me down. Please. I’m not - I’m not a threat; I’m not a fucking criminal.”

But by then they have him, arms pinned, tight, controlled. Their hands on him are unbearable. They burn and cut through his oversensitive flesh like acid. He groans in pain and thrashes once more before he buckles and sobs. Feels his voice tear through his vocal cords.

“I don’t want to be here - just let me go. Please. I can’t - I can’t do this. Please let me go home!”

His knees give out, and the staff ease him down to the floor gently, still holding him. Still unknowingly burning him.

“You’re okay. We’ve got you. Just breathe. Let it pass.”

And he does. Eventually. Rocking on the sterile floor, heaves of air rattling through him. Not fighting anymore. Just broken open. Empty and defeated.

Back in Sirius’ room

Sirius let out a strangled sound, part growl, part sob, as he gasped for air. Like the memory was actively chocking him. His wrists went slack in James’ grip, then jerked again, then slack again - caught between fury and collapse.

“Please,” he rasped, eyes glassy, teeth gritted in something that wasn’t quite a plea but wasn’t quite a threat either. “Please, James – just -”

And then it broke. The fight drained out of him in one shuddering exhale. His body went limp, chest heaving, damp hair clinging to his flushed face. The furious fire in his eyes cracked wide open into something raw and bleeding. James’ hold loosened instantly, but he didn’t move away. He hovered there, still straddling Sirius, watching him unravel.

He lay sprawled against the mattress, chest heaving, wrists limp in James’ hands. His lips were parted, but he was silent now - utterly silent. Empty.

James eased his grip, as if half-expecting Sirius to shove him off, spit another insult, something. But Sirius just stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, eyes glassy but tears refusing to fall.

“Pads,” James tried softly, still hovering over him. “Talk to me.”

Nothing. He couldn’t find his voice. He couldn’t find himself. Couldn’t bear to comprehend how hopelessly broken he must seem to his best friend.

James’ throat worked, his weight pressing down heavier but still not budging. “You scared the shit out of me, you know that?”

Sirius blinked once, slow, deliberate, but his mouth stayed shut. He couldn’t meet James’ eyes. Didn’t know how to be in this space with him. He felt the self-loathing creeping in like a second skin, making him cold and unapproachable.

“Don’t shut me out,” James pressed, a rough edge creeping into his voice. “Not after all that. I can take the shouting, the fists, the fury - but not this.”

Sirius’ jaw worked. He felt like he was holding his whole self together with his teeth. He could feel James’ frustration surge again. He gripped Sirius’ chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“For fuck’s sake, Pads, look at me!”

Sirius’ eyes finally cut to him - wet, furious, broken - but he didn’t speak. He just looked up at James. Let him see right through him, suddenly indifferent to the vulnerability. Painfully aware that there was no pride, no nothing to uphold.

James’ voice cracked, all anger seemed to dissolve into raw desperation. “You think I pushed you into that talk with Remus to humiliate you? You think I’d ever – ever - make you feel small on purpose? You’re my brother, Sirius. You’re half of me. I’d do anything for you.”

Sirius’ lips trembled, but he pressed them tight, still fighting, still refusing. Still trying to process how to be in his own mind and body. The words hurt but in a different way. They tugged at him, at his beating heart. They called for him, but he was reluctant to answer. It felt like they called a name that he no longer had. Called out for a person that no longer existed.

James leaned in until their foreheads touched, whispering so close Sirius could feel the words on his skin. “Stop punishing me. Stop punishing yourself. Just - bloody hell, Pads - say something.”

Something in him cracked. The suffocating seal in Sirius’ chest and a choked sound escaped his throat without his permission, halfway between a laugh and a sob, and suddenly his whole body shook. The silence shattered into gasping breaths, tears sliding hot and unrestrained down his cheeks. Suddenly Sirius felt himself being pulled upright, crushed against James’ chest, arms locking around him before he could think to resist.

“I’ve got you,” James whispered fiercely, holding on tighter as Sirius broke apart in his grip. “I’ve got you.”

Sirius felt like his eyes were about to roll out of their sockets. The shades helped hide it, but not even tinted glass could disguise how wrecked he was. Since his compromising breakdown, or fine, breakdowns – plural – his sleep had gone to hell. Perfect timing, really - just in time to drain him before tour. Predictable as ever. In some ways, it was almost comforting - everything hopelessly back to ‘normal’ with tour looming. Tours always messed with him. Always had. And he felt himself slip into that toxic comfort again - where pain wasn’t punishment but necessity, the only language his body seemed to understand.

Sirius stalled outside the conference door, thumb worrying the edge of his lighter like it might spark an excuse. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to turn around, to get the hell out before Remus’ steady gaze could pin him down. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, muttering under his breath.

“Don’t even think about it.”

James’ voice came from behind, sharp as a whip. Sirius froze, shoulders tensing, before turning just enough to see his best mate leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Peter hovered beside him, trying and failing to look casual, though the worry was all over his round face.

Sirius rolled his eyes, plastering on a smirk. “Don’t know what you’re on about, Prongs. You know how these meetings really get me…going. Make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

James scoffed. “Yeah, sure, we all know how they are the highlight of your day, if not the week.”

James took a step forward before his hands slid around the back of Sirius’ neck, firm but controlled. Sirius pulled back, stubborn as ever. “I don’t need you to drag me -”

“You do,” James interrupted, his tone sharp now. “Because you’re too proud to admit you’re nervous. Now, move.”

Sirius grumbled before he let himself be guided forward, each step a battle against the knot of anxiety threatening to tighten in his stomach. He kept his shades on, his expression carefully neutral, but inside, his mind was racing, heart hammering, every instinct screaming to bolt. James pushed the door open with his free hand and all but steered Sirius inside, giving him a small push forward. Peter followed, shutting the door behind them.

The room smelled of stale coffee and expensive cologne. Fluorescens lights buzzed above, drilling into his skull. Label reps sat scattered around the ridiculous long glass table. And at the end – Remus - handsome, put together – Remus with his notebook open, pen resting between his fingers, gaze already locked on him. Sirius’ skin prickled. He dropped into a chair with more force than necessary, when James finally released his grip on his neck. He felt his infamous glare fall perfectly in place behind his shades and he aimed it at his band mates as they found their places at the table.

“Glad you could make it,” Remus said at last, voice calm, clipped, professional. For the room’s benefit, maybe. But Sirius heard the undercurrent. The dry humour. The indication of him knowing just how badly Sirius wanted to be anywhere else but in that room. Sirius huffed in response, crossing his arms at his chest.

The label rep at the head of the table cleared his throat, flipping through a clipboard.

“Alright. We’re here to discuss the last details about the upcoming tour. Travel accommodations need confirmation, and we’ll need to finalize setlists and PR by the end of the week.”

Sirius drummed his fingers against the table, impatient, agitated. Another label rep shuffled his papers. “…And the revised tour schedule is handled per Mr. Lupin’s request.”

Sirius’ head snapped up, eyebrows high. “Per what?”

The rep glanced between him and Remus. “Mr. Lupin requested adjustments. Fewer back-to-backs, more recovery days between shows. It’s all been cleared.”

Sirius blinked, slow, disbelieving. His brain felt scattered. He turned toward Remus, who was sitting there with maddening calm, pen tapping once against his notepad.

“You -” Sirius’ voice caught. He cleared his throat, tried again. “You did that?”

Remus looked up and met his shielded gaze with steady composure. “Yes.”

Sirius stared at him. He expected some smugness, a lecture, something, but there was nothing in Remus’ face except a quiet certainty. Like it had been obvious. Like it hadn’t even been a question. Sirius’ stomach twisted. He could still feel that night sitting heavy on his chest - the words he’d blurted, the things he swore he’d never admit, the way Remus’ expression had softened in a way Sirius couldn’t stand. He hated that softness. Hated it because it meant Remus had seen through him.

Sirius felt his throat went dry. “Why?” slipped out before he could stop himself and he winced.

Remus tilted his head, just slightly. “Because you needed it.”

The room suddenly felt too bright, too sharp. Sirius shifted in his seat, pushing his sunglasses up in his hair, so he could drag his hands across his face and rub at his temples. His chest was buzzing, tight and uncomfortable, like his ribcage didn’t quite fit anymore.

Peter leaned forward, glancing between them, sensing the weight in the air.

“Well, that’s good news, right, Pads? Fewer nights of killing yourself. Can’t complain about that.”

Sirius swallowed hard, eyes flicking back to Remus. He wanted to say something - thank you, maybe, or anything that didn’t make him sound like a pathetic mess - but the words jammed up in his throat. All that came out was a scoff, thin and unconvincing.

“Sure,” he muttered, sinking lower in his chair. “Fantastic.”

The suits, oblivious, moved right along with logistics. But Sirius barely heard them. His focus stayed locked on the quiet figure across the table. On the fact that Remus had gone to bat for him, without asking, without telling him, without expecting credit. And Sirius had no idea what to do with that. Because he knew, in the marrow of his bones, that Remus had heard everything that night he had blurted all his nasty regrets out. That Remus had gone to the label for him. That Remus had already fought this battle behind the scenes so Sirius wouldn’t collapse. And Sirius couldn’t bring himself to say thank you. Couldn’t admit how much it gutted him to be protected like that. To be seen as something, someone, important enough to do something like that for.

“However, we need to talk other adjustments as well,” a younger rep said, leaning back in his chair. His gaze slid over Sirius with cool disdain. “Which means, Sirius -” He leaned forward again, steepling his fingers. “This time, we need you reliable. On time. Presentable. Sober.”

Sirius froze, the words slicing clean through him.

 “We’re talking damage control at this tour. You’ve burned bridges with promoters. Walked out of interviews mid-question.” The rep paused, flipping a page with deliberate slowness. “You disappear for days. And when you come back – well.”

The rep tapped the paper as a knowing silence simmered between them. Sirius demanded his mind to shut down, his body not to react.

James cut in before the silence stretched too thin. “He’s been at every rehearsal.”

The rep leaned back, looking smug. “Even so, Mr. Black’s reliability is in question. Investors, venues, they all ask the same thing: can Sirius Black be trusted to show up sober, on time, and in one piece?”

James immediately sat forward, voice light but firm. “He can. He has. Like I said, every rehearsal this past month, he’s been there. He’s putting in the work.”

Sirius fumed slowly as the talk went over his head. He is actually in the fucking room.

Peter sucked a breath in before adding in. “We’ve got him in good hands.”

“Whose hands?” one of the execs asked pointedly.

“Mine,” Remus said evenly. His pen stopped tapping at last, stilling on the page. “I’m the band’s manager. And I’m confident.”

There was a murmur among the suits, some sceptical, some appeased. Sirius barely moved. Barely breathed. His heart was in his throat, hearing Remus say those words. He swallowed.

The younger rep’s smile was thin, clinical. “Mr. Black, no one is questioning your talent. It’s your… volatility. We can’t afford another tabloid headline about you stumbling out of a club with white powder under your nose. Or another manager stopping because you can’t separate your vices from your commitments.”

The room went deathly still. Sirius’ breath hitched, throat dry as sandpaper. His heart banged against his ribs, violent and uneven. The humiliation threatening to choke him, and he turned to anger before it could.

“Scott got fired because he was an asshole, and you all know it. Don’t you fucking dare pin that on me.”

Sirius felt himself spiral. What had Scott said about him? What did the label know, or think they knew, that he didn’t? His skin started to crawl as he thought about the endless list of compromising, damaging things that Scott could hold against him. The dirty secrets he had been forced to share with him.

Remus’ voice broke in, low, steady, cutting clean through the noise. “That’s enough.”

Both reps looked at him, startled. Remus’ expression hadn’t shifted, but his jaw was set, eyes hard.

“You’ve made your point. Logistics are settled. The tour is around the corner. If you’ve got concerns about Sirius’ commitment, you take them up with me. Not here. Not like this.”

The older rep frowned but didn’t push. He snapped his folder shut. “Very well. We’ll circulate the updated materials by end of day.”

The younger one gave Sirius a last, lingering glance before following his colleague out. The door closed. The silence they left behind was suffocating. Sirius sat frozen, staring into nothing, chest heaving. His throat felt full of glass, every word jammed sharp behind it. When he finally dragged his eyes up, Remus was already watching. Sirius looked away first.

Peter cleared his throat, almost afraid to break the silence. “We’ll give you guys a minute.” Then he tugged at James’ sleave and they both made their way out of the suffocating conference room. The echoes of their retreating footsteps lingered, sharp and irritating.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, sunglasses still perched on his head. Pretending he was fine, pretending he didn’t feel raw and humiliated from the meeting, from the judgment in every clipped word of the executives. A muscle twitched near his temple as he gritted his teeth.

Remus rose slowly from his chair and walked towards Sirius. He leaned against the edge of the table, folder in hand, quiet. Waiting. Patient. Watching. Sirius hated the way patience felt like pressure. He removed his sunglasses from his hairline and dragged a hand through his curls, tugging roughly, smothering the edge of a sigh.

“Well,” he muttered finally, voice rough. “That was… delightful.”

Remus didn’t respond immediately. He just let the words hang, letting the silence press against Sirius, almost like another suit executive scrutinizing him.

Sirius scowled at the ceiling. “Don’t just stand there, Moony. Say something. Or leave. One of the two.”

Still, Remus said nothing. Just moved closer, quietly setting his folder on the table with a small sigh, hands folded. Sirius felt the weight of the calm - steady, unyielding. He hated it. Wanted to snap, to lash, to prove they didn’t hurt him.

“Really,” Sirius said, louder this time, sharp. “You’ve got a face for this, don’t you? Sitting there, cool, calm, perfect - like none of it matters.”

Remus finally spoke, voice low, even, but cutting straight through Sirius’ defiance. “It matters, Sirius. You matter. Not the meeting, not the suits. You.”

Sirius tensed, jaw clenching so hard his teeth ground together. He turned away, smothering the first catch of vulnerability. Remus stepped closer, brushing a hand lightly over Sirius’ arm.

“Have you even slept since I last saw you?” Remus’ eyes were gentle and slightly concerned when Sirius forced himself to look up at him. He knew how tired he must look. He felt it. But he didn’t answer. Just stared at Remus with tired, wary eyes. Remus huffed as he placed a finger under Sirius’ chin, his eyes running over his features.

“Smoking, not sleeping, bolting from my place in the middle of the night.”

Sirius felt his cheeks redden and he swallowed as he looked away, not willing to admit out loud what they both knew. That he indeed had bolted from Remus the last time they saw each other. Remus, still holding his chin, gently forced his face back.

“What are we going to do with these bad habits of yours?” His brown eyes sparkled with slight amusement.

Remus’ fingers slid to the back of Sirius’ neck, grounding, steady. Sirius’ pulse spiked, his breath catching as his eyes flicked from Remus’ steady gaze to the curve of his lips. When Remus leaned in, pressing a deliberate kiss to the corner of his mouth, Sirius stiffened like it burned.

“I’m not -” he growled, voice shaky. “This doesn’t -”

“It does,” Remus murmured, thumb brushing along his jaw.

Sirius’ hands clawed at the table, knuckles white.

“Moons -.” His voice cracked, a ragged confession slipping free before he could stop it.

Remus’ hand found the back of his neck again, grounding, steady - tugging. And with a guttural sound, Sirius snapped. He surged forward, knocking Remus back against the glass table with a scrape of chair legs, crawling up over him with raw, uncontained energy. His knees pressed against the edge of the table as his hands fisted in Remus’ shirt, dragging him close.

“Fuck -” Remus hissed, half-startled, half-braced, but his hands came up instinctively to hold Sirius’ sides, to steady him.

Sirius’ mouth crashed against his in a kiss that was less kiss than claim - furious, desperate, trembling with the weight of everything his annoyingly, attractive manager made him feel. Teeth clashed, breath ragged, Sirius pouring all his fire into the contact like it was the only way to keep from splintering apart. When he finally pulled back, his chest was heaving, eyes wild and wet.

“You make me insane,” he breathed, voice cracking.

Remus, pinned under him but calm as ever, smoothed a hand over his back, anchoring him. Sirius dropped his forehead to Remus’ collarbone, shaking with something too tangled to name - anger, relief, need, despair, all bleeding into one. His fingers dug into Remus’ shirt like he’d tear it, like he’d tear himself apart if he let go. He pulled back just enough to look at Remus, and the fire in his eyes burned - wild, dangerous, desperate. Then he surged forward again, kissing him like he wanted to devour him, like if he stopped, he might come undone completely. His hands dragged through Remus’ tousled hair, down his firm shoulders, clutching so tight it bordered on bruising.

“Jesus, Sirius -” Remus gasped into his mouth, the words cut off as Sirius kissed him harder, swallowing whatever calm protest might’ve come. But Remus met him just as eager, fingers buried in his hair.

Remus’ words only made Sirius shudder harder. He pressed his forehead to Remus’, panting, before shoving him back onto the glass. Crawling fully over him now, straddling, Sirius kissed him again—hungry, furious, desperate, like if he stopped, he’d come undone completely. Remus groaned softly, hands gripping his hips, steadying him even in the chaos. Sirius bit at his lips, his throat, clawing for more.

“Tell me you’ll stay,” he gasped between kisses, voice breaking. “Please - just stay. I know I’m messy - bad habits and all, but -”

Remus caught his face, thumb brushing his cheek. “I think I’ll manage.” His laugh was warm, easy.

Something raw broke loose in Sirius. He kissed him harder, trembling, like drowning himself in Remus was the only way to quiet the storm. His hands shook as they roamed, restless, clawing for something to hold, something that wouldn’t slip through his fingers. But Remus slowed him with patient hands, each kiss deliberate, anchoring.

“Breathe,” Remus whispered, steady as ever. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sirius let out a ragged sound, half growl, half sob. He tried to surge again, but Remus pushed him back with quiet strength, guiding Sirius back down onto the table, reversing their positions with careful ease, pressing him down against the cold table. Sirius’ protest choked in his throat when Remus’ weight settled over him, warm and grounding.

“Shh,” Remus soothed, mouth moving slow and unhurried along his jaw. “I’ve got you.”

Sirius huffed and writhed under the pace, gritting his teeth, cursing. His hips arched up against Remus, frantic, searching for friction, for release.

“Moony – fuck,” he gasped against his lips, as if begging him not to slow him down.

But Remus only kissed him harder, unyielding. His hands slid under Sirius’ shirt, palms flat against trembling skin, anchoring him with the heat of his touch. And eventually, he gave in. His sharp words faltered into broken sounds as Remus kissed him until he matched the rhythm, his fire channelled into something consuming instead of frantic. Then Remus’ hand trailed lower, across his chest, down to his waistband. Sirius sucked in a breath, the fight in him cracking wide open.

“Bloody – fuck – Remus -” Sirius’ voice was breathy, his words breaking into pleading sounds he tried to swallow but couldn’t.

Remus pressed his forehead to Sirius’, whispering between each ragged breath, “Easy now.”

Sirius’ felt his low rumble vibrate through his body. His mind went blank, and he threw his head back as Remus palmed him through his jeans.

And that was when the conference room door slammed open.

“Remus, are we -” James’ voice cut off with a strangled sound.

Peter, right behind him, squeaked audibly, dropping the folder he was carrying. Papers scattered across the floor in a flutter. The sight in front of them, Sirius Black, undone beneath their manager, Remus Lupin, shirt rucked up to his ribs, chest heaving, body trembling - froze them both in place. Then their eyes collectively wandered down to Remus’ hand placement on Sirius and their faces contorted. Sirius felt his own eyes widen in horror.

“Fuck, okay - okay!” he hissed, weakly shoving at Remus’ chest, but his arms wouldn’t quite obey. He was too spent, too shaken, too raw. His pride burned hot, even as his body betrayed him. He buried his face in his hands, unable to grasp the situation. Remus didn’t move to get off him right away. He simply sat back, straightening his shirt with infuriating composure, as if Sirius wasn’t still sprawled and burning with shame beneath him.

“Please, for the love of God and anything holy – get out! Evacuate! Depart! Bolt, fly, vanish, do anything to remove yourselves from my immediate vicinity, ‘cause if you don’t, I will annihilate you.” Sirius’ voice cracked as he spoke through his hands, making the threat sting even as his voice trembled with mortification.

Peter’s eyes were wide, frozen. James’ mouth opened, closed, opened again. “Pads, I – We -”

“OUT!” Sirius roared, pointing wildly at the door without looking. The sound tore out of him ragged, almost pleading, his fury undercut by humiliation.

Peter squeaked, nearly tripping on his own feet as he scrambled backward. “Right, right, going!” He bent to grab the fallen papers, dropped them again, then gave up entirely. “Just - just pretend we didn’t see anything!”

James, maddeningly, lingered in the doorway. His expression was a knot of horror, shock, and unmistakable mischief. Sirius could practically see the joke forming behind his teeth.

“Prongs,” Sirius growled, not lifting his head from his hands, “If you breathe one word.”

“Got it!” James blurted, voice high, before Peter shoved him bodily into the hall. The slam of the door echoed like a gunshot.

Sirius froze where he was sprawled on the table, chest heaving, shame flooding through him in a hot wave that made his skin crawl. Slowly, he pushed himself upright, tugging at his shirt, avoiding Remus’ gaze.

“Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

Remus smiled faintly. “I didn’t know you could be so… well-articulated.” Then he tilted his head, mouth twitching. “If it helps, I think they had it figured out long before you did.”

Sirius dragged his hands down his face with a groan. “God, I hate you right now. And myself. Just as much.”