"Is Sirius missing ALL of dinner, then?" Peter mumbled through a mouth full of baked potato, eyeing Sirius' portion speculatively. "He's been gone for HOURS."
I can certainly understand that. Wanting to be alone, after last night.
Remus was feeling rather troubled and withdrawn himself. But then, Remus often felt troubled and withdrawn, and he couldn't afford to let it ruin his appetite.
He chewed his fish thoughtfully.
"He did come out of the woods a little while ago, actually," James tossed a few fresh branches onto the bonfire. "While you two were fishing. He just grabbed his
motorbike and said he'd be off to the nearest village to grab some beers and pick up some chicks."
Some chicks?
For a moment, Remus felt as if he'd just swallowed a fishbone.
I suppose that's just his way of dealing with a difficult situation. It always has been, I knew that.
"He won't be eating this then, will he?" Peter picked up Sirius' bowl.
"Oh, take it. It's getting cold, anyway," James decided. "Still, it's all a bit odd," he mused, "Usually, when he goes on a drunken bender like that, it's because of he
has girl trouble. And we haven't seen a girl in a week, camping out here in these woods."
"True," Peter frowned. "Remus, you're his tentmate. Did he tell YOU anything that might explain things?"
Ah, yes.
"I'm almost sure that Sirius has not mentioned any girls to me recently," Remus replied carefully.
"He may well do so after tonight, though," James sighed. "You know, I just don't understand why he sleeps around so much. I keep telling him... I mean, he can
see for himself how happy I am with Lily, and yet he insists on jumping from bed to bed."
And from sleeping bag to sleeping bag.
"Not everyone can be like you and Lily, James," Remus shrugged, staring into the fire. "Anyway, I think it's my turn to do the dishes."
"No, it's Sirius'" Peter pointed out, licking his bowl clean. "But I suppose he'll be happy with the swap. Say, guys," he brightened, "do you think that Sirius, in
between girls, will remember to get us some cheese in the village? I miss cheese."
I don't. I feel like I'm trapped in a cheesy melodrama.
Carrying the bowls, Remus walked over to the river, and started casting vigorous scrubbing spells at the water.
Jealousy, jealousy is a very ugly thing. I hate feeling this way. Damn that Sirius. I could bite him... on his muscular shoulder... like...
Remus growled, and set a washed bowl on a rock with a bang.
Oh, I have got to pull myself together. But picking up chicks? It's so typical. Just as if nothing had changed. Cheap bar-room tarts before, cheap bar-room
tarts after, and, among them, Remus. His 'dear' old friend. It's all the same to him, he'll come back laughing, happy and satisfied. And what am I supposed to
do back here, challenge James to a wrestling match?
Wrestling. One could say that wrestling was to blame for everything.
It had been a fine camping trip. A final school vacation, one last chance for the Marauders to relax together before picking up their NEWT results and dispersing
into the Real World. They had picked an appealing, remote pine forest. Under the full moon, which fell on the third day of their stay, they had enjoyed running
together in new, unfamiliar surroundings.
They had come too close to the village, though. Moony had smelled it first, and had taken off towards it with no warning. On the brambly hillside, only Padfoot
had managed to catch up with him in time. He had, however, been quickly defeated, and it was only Prongs' appearance that brought Moony up short, and,
eventually, back to his senses.
The day after, Sirius had felt rather ashamed of himself.
"What kind of a Grim am I, anyway?" he had growled. "You shook me off like a flea."
"You held me back long enough for James to reach us," Remus had pointed out, yawning. "Anyway, if you must know, the main problem was that you just
weren't taking full advantage of your weight."
Sirius had demanded a demonstration. Remus, longing to get back to sleep, had agreed to give one.
Hence, the wrestling.
A couple of days later, while James and Peter were off looking for mushrooms, Sirius had dragged the now fully recovered Remus to a small clearing.
Remus had felt odd. "You know, it seems strange for you to be fighting anyone other than James. Or a Slytherin," he told Sirius, casually, as they stripped off
their robes and hung them on a tree to keep them safe. "And you know you haven't fought ME in human form for years."
"True," Sirius agreed. "But then you prefer dueling."
"You know I worry about biting people. Don't want to get into the habit."
"Yes, and I expect that's also why you're such a cold fish around girls."
It would be even worse to bite a girl than an enemy. And it's hard to be affectionate on a date with a stranger. Still, a cold fish? Where had Sirius come up with
that?
Thoughts like those helped him work up some human, easy-to-manage anger to use during the fight. Thus, at least at first, he was able to take advantage of his
greater agility and balance to work his way out of Sirius' clutches time after time.
Sirius was, however, by no means a slow learner. In no time at all, he'd learnt how to throw his weight around to some purpose.
"Victory! Is mine!" he gasped out, pinning Remus to the ground quite securely. "Hey," he continued pensively, glancing around at their intermingled arms and
legs. "I bet this is more overall body contact than you've had in months!"
It had been true. And rather mean. And Remus, already struggling to keep the wolf at bay, had felt his rage rising beyond his control. With a superhuman twist,
and a roll, he'd shot out from under Sirius, literally tossing him away, and raced into the relative safety of the trees.
Calm. Must calm down.
It had taken Remus several moments. Returning to the clearing, he had been alarmed to find that Sirius was still lying on the grass, eyes screwed shut.
"Sirius...?" He dropped down by his friends side. "Sirius, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." He reached out to touch his friend's face.
Sirius' eyes blinked open, his had fastening around Remus' wrist in a flash. "Don't worry, Moony," he whispered in an odd voice. "I just needed to, er, rest for a while."
Is he just winded?
Remus drew away, looking Sirius over for injuries.
What's that in his shorts? Oh! Oh, I see. I think I'd better ignore that. Act casual.
As Remus sat back casually, Sirius raised himself up, chatting in a very, very, very normal tone of voice. "Besides, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm
sorry about what I said. I'm just so used to insulting James, occasional insults do that boy a world of good."
He's babbling. He knows I noticed. He's trying to cover up his embarrassment.
"Not that I thought you you were James - you, um, look very different to James..." Sirius continued, looking down at a scratch on his arm. "I mean, James
always gets flabby in the off-season, as I was pointing out to him the other day. But I suppose there is no real off-season for werewolves, and you look... Damn,
I feel cold!" he exclaimed in the afternoon sun, stumbling to his feet and towards his robes.
You look good, too. Better than me, in fact, as I'm sure you're well aware.
Remus watched his friend's retreating back, taking in the broad shoulders, the tapered waist...
"Yours!" Sirius tossed Remus' robes back towards him, his well-defined back muscles twisting. "We're pals, aren't we, Remus?" he said suddenly. "Why don't we
go to a pub together tonight and... pick up some girls, or something."
He's so worried. It's almost as if...
Remus took a moment to shrug his robe over his head. "I'd rather not," he said, running a hand through his hair and gazing up at Sirius with solemn, troubled eyes.
Sirius' hands twitched as if reaching out towards his friend. "I don't know about you, but I am now going to jump in the river!" he announced in a strangled
voice, disappearing rather quickly.
That COLD river. It IS almost as if he fancied me.
The cold river. Remus shivered, finishing up the last of the dishes. The sun was setting, its warmth disappearing from among the trees as its rays vanished,
blocked by the horizon. After placing the dishes by the dying fire, he walked to his tent, hugging himself. He picked up a cloak lying by the tent entrance.
That jerk forgot his cloak. Well, he won't be needing it, not with all those warm girls around.
Dropping the cloak inside, Remus eyed the sleeping bags rather uneasily. He'd set them out neatly that morning, but he could still remember them in their
rumpled, entangled state.
I almost hope that there'll be girls. That he won't freeze. Or crash his bike.
I am a pathetic sap. What's this, puppy love?
Peter's voice drew him out of his self-deprecating reverie.
"Remus, are you sure Sirius was OK last night? I thought I'd heard him groaning."
Yes, I remember that.
"He was cold," Remus replied through the canvas.
Well, the evening cold had definitely been part of the problem.
The rest of the wrestling day had passed peacefully enough. Sirius had swum a lot, and debated out loud who among the Slytherins was the least attractive.
Remus had sat under a tree with a book on Magical Monsters on his lap. James and Peter had noticed nothing amiss.
But then, after dinner, Sirius had disappeared, claiming that he just had to take himself for a walk. Remus crawled into the tent they shared, and attempted to fall
asleep. He tried several methods.
Counting sheep.
I would love to bite into a sheep right about now.
Thinking about History Of Magic.
I would have fallen asleep in every class, if I hadn't been sitting next to Sirius.
Thinking about girls.
I wish I was sharing this tent with a girl. I would take her in my arms, bury my face in her dark hair, and run my hand along her muscular... Damn!
Well, if I can't stop thinking about him...
Thinking about Sirius.
I am an idiot. Nothing happened today. Sirius likes girls, we all know that. He's probably meeting one right now.
There was a rustle at the entrance of the tent. Remus willed himself to lay utterly motionless, asleep, asleep, asleep, even when Sirius, doubtlessly confused in the
darkness, accidentally placed a hand on his hip.
It worked! Soon they were lying there side by side, both pretending to be asleep.
Except that Sirius seemed to be shivering.
Damn. His sleeping bag has all those holes chewed in it, too.
Remus couldn't take it for very long.
"Sirius?" he asked. "Are you OK?" He reached across and started rubbing his friend's shoulder. "Do you want to go and warm up by the fire?" he asked
"No, this is f-fine." Sirius inched closer.
Aha! I have proof. He would never act this way if he had felt anything.
"You know, R-remus," Sirius started, as conversationally as his chattering teeth would permit, "My mother's friend Uncle Ch-cherry, the polar explorer, had a bit
of advice for s-situations just like this."
"Hmmm?" Remus asked, as his hand slid through a hole in the other bag. As he touched Sirius' shivering back, a shock ran through him, as if in sympathy.
He feels so warm.
"Sharing a s-sleeping bag!" Sirius explained evenly. "It helps to capture body heat, you know."
He did NOT just say that! He couldn't have.
His mind blank, Remus opened his sleeping bag and let Sirius in, wrapping himself around his friend's shaking body.
Ah yes. I understand what's going on here. I'm dreaming. One of THOSE dreams.
At peace at last, Remus relaxed. Since he now knew he was asleep, he was no longer worried about staying awake.
Sleep began to claim him, at last.
And then Sirius ruined it all by turning around and kissing him on the lips.
Wow, what a realistic dream... Oh, Voldemort blast me!
It isn't a dream!
After a moment's indecision, Remus sprang backward in shock and confusion.
He couldn't get very far away - the sleeping bag held him. As did Sirius.
I don't believe this. The universe has just gone insane. Or is it just me?
"Remus. As I see it, you have two options now," Sirius' relatively calm voice came out of the darkness by his ear. "You can either run out of this tent and send in
Peter who is, I promise, safe from my molestations, or you can kiss me back."
"Are you sure?"
"Option two, then."
And Sirius kissed him again. This time, Remus responded. His hands found Sirius' back, and he pulled himself closer.
Actually, this doesn't seem insane or weird at all. It feels... normal. And right.
Soon, they were as close together as any pair of wrestlers.
"You've been drinking, haven't you?" Remus asked, catching his breath.
"Yes. I was hoping it'd help me fall asleep," Sirius replied, running his hand over Remus' robes. "Or provide me with an excuse if I freaked you out. Would you
mind taking this off, by the way? You can still freak out, if you like."
How could it feel weird? This is my friend Sirius, my companion in almost all of life's pleasures.
"What's MY excuse supposed to be, then?"
"My irresistible charm."
Well, I'm certainly not immune to that.
They did not talk much for the next few hours. It was hard to find the words. After all, this was something they'd both have laughed at when younger.
"This is really very... er, educational," Sirius suggested during a brief lull, running his fingers lightly across Remus' chest.
"Not for you, surely," Remus raised an invisible eyebrow in the darkness. "All your stories..."
"Oh, you CAN'T believe those," Sirius interrupted, "After all, you know how my mouth runs away with me," he explained, letting the forementioned mouth
follow his fingers.
Remus was struck speechless by the happiness of a shared joke and a shared pleasure.
He did recover later, though. And the night proved quite exhausting for both of them.
When they fell asleep, it was still dark in the tent, but Remus could hear the birds waking up outside.
When he woke up himself, later, it was full light, and the trills had been replaced by Peter's high voice, complaining about the late breakfast. Sirius was not there.
After stretching to loosen up some mysterious bruises, Remus took a look outside.
Sirius wasn't there, either.
Well, what was I expecting, really? Breakfast in bed?
Remus went through the day as if nothing had happened. He was very good at that. It was only in the evening that all those bar-girls started running through his head.
Nights like that are common enough in Sirius' life. I doubt he gives them more thought than he does a satisfying meal, or a good fight.
He knew he was not being entirely logical - Sirius didn't go on drunken binges after EVERY delicious dinner - but he could not help it. He'd always felt that his
own emotions were usually far more extreme than other people's, and so he had to assume that Sirius had been affected less than himself.
I know that I have enough self-control to get through this.
After the sun had set, he lay awake in his empty tent, missing both the unfamiliar physical warmth and the ordinary warmth of friendship. Although he was very
tired, sleep seemed even more elusive than on the previous evening.
In the end, he gave up and decided to take a walk. He'd always found forests soothing.
He walked down a narrow wooded lane, wishing for a full moon and the relief his uncomplex wolf-form would bring. It took him at least a mile to realize he had
taken his friend's cloak with him.
* * * * * * *
Sirius slowed down and pulled over onto the hard shoulder. Losing speed was a bore, but how else was he supposed to drink his whisky? This empty rural road
was just bumpy enough to make him spill it whenever he lifted it to his mouth. He took a long swig from the bottle.
Satisfying enough, but all I really want to do is howl.
Hiccuping, he put bottle the bottle away and revved his bike.
Can't howl, though; Remus would hear, and he can read howling like an open book. Blast him.
He drove off, accelerating to a blur within seconds. At the next fork, he took a right.
The road is good, the road tells me where to go. If I took off flying, who knows where I'd end up... Well, I do, actually. Back at the damn camp.
He'd tried distracting himself at a seedy local pub, flirting with girls. But the girls had looked ruddy-faced, flabby, and devoid of mystery. He'd even smiled back
at a stranger in tight jeans who'd leered at him from over the pool table, but the idea of taking it any further had repulsed him.
Stupid village pub. I wish we were nearer London. I wish I'd never agreed to this dorky camping trip.
It had been a wonderful week. The Marauders' last hurrah. Their last chance to be boys before taking on the role of responsible members of society, James had
said. Typical of James, that. Now that he and Lily were such an established couple, he was becoming insufferably mature.
In a way, it had all been James' fault.
It was certainly James' fault that Sirius had ended up sharing a tent with Remus. The two ring-leaders usually stuck together, but this summer Sirius just couldn't
face all that well-meant advice. Not that it had been an unpopular swap: Peter had grabbed at the chance to room with his hero, and Sirius himself had been quite
happy to spend more quality time with Remus.
Almost too happy, in fact, looking back.
Where hanging out with James often put him on edge, driving him to plot, fight, and offend, Remus' presence had proved to be, well, relaxing. His friend's dry
sense of humor and no-nonsense approach to life had soothed him into contentment, and he'd found himself really looking forward to their nightly chats.
Damn you, Remus.
What came next was James' fault, too. One aspect of James' newfound adult dignity was his sudden unwillingness to get into fights.
And that's why Sirius had felt compelled to talk Remus into that infamous wrestling match.
From the start, it had been, for Sirius, a very interesting experience. Not just because (much to his surprise) he kept losing again and again, but because of the
intensity of it all. Fighting an irritated James had always been a faintly humorous experience: fighting Remus was a serious activity, their bodies moving against
each other in action and reaction.
Still, somehow, Sirius was able to concentrate, listen to his friend's suggestions, and learn. And when he saw the right opening, he took it, and thus was able to
pin Remus to the ground more securely than ever before.
"Victory! Is mine!" Sirius gasped, filled with an immense sense of satisfaction.
Phew, finally... Really, Remus is far better at this that I suspected... In much better shape, too: thin, yes, but really quite muscular. Who would have thought it,
to look at him in his shapeless robes?
But then, I suppose, few people get to see him without them. Especially to see him this closely.
"Hey," Sirius mused out loud. The silence was starting to bother him. "I bet this is more overall body contact than you've had in months!"
A moment later he was flying through the air, and landing quite painfully on a knot of tree roots.
As he lay there in the gentle breeze, he became aware that he'd been, well, more visibly excited by the situation than he had realized.
Oh. That's just great. I bet I've weirded him out.
Sirius groaned to himself.
I hope he realizes that it's not a big deal. I mean, I can (and do) find anything from trees to well-cooked steak vaguely erotic.
Quite aware that Remus would surely return, he decided to use his favorite remedy: imagining a group of naked, dancing house-elves. Sadly, it didn't seem to be
working very quickly. He screwed up his eyes, concentrating harder.
"Sirius...?"
Damn. That's exactly I needed to think about: a naked Remus dancing with the elves.
"Sirius, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..."
OK, self-insight time: I have fancied people before. I fancy Remus now. It must be all that wrestling. No big deal.
Sirius opened his eyes and grabbed Remus' hand before its touch could do any more damage.
"Don't worry, Moony," he attempted to keep his voice low and even. "I just needed to, er, rest for a while." He sat up, clearing his throat. "Besides, I'm the one
who should be apologizing. I'm sorry about what I said. I'm just so used to insulting James, occasional insults do that boy a world of good."
He still looks worried. I'd better try to laugh it off. Put him at his ease.
"Not that I thought you you were James - you, um, look very different to James. I mean, James always gets flabby in the off-season, as I was pointing out to him
the other day. But I suppose there is no real off-season for werewolves, and you look..."
Oh yes, very smooth. Time for plan B: the cover-up."
Sirius decided to lurch to his feet. "Damn, I feel cold!" he exclaimed with a smile, reaching for their robes. After throwing Remus' back to his friend, he pulled his
own on hurriedly.
"We're pals, aren't we, Remus?" he asked, smoothing out the fabric. "Why don't we go to a pub together tonight and... pick up some girls, or something."
Or something... mmm... James is right, I AM a pervert. I mean, this is REMUS, my old friend REMUS!
And Remus certainly was Remus, now that he was dressed. He no longer looked anything like an intense hand-to-hand combat expert, but like a vaguely
disheveled future Hogwarts teacher.
THAT should destroy the mood of the moment. So why is it, if anything, more exciting?
"I'd rather not," Remus said at last, serene as ever.
How does he do it? Does NOTHING ruffle him for more than a few minutes?
Sirius' arms twitched. He had a sudden impulse to try his hand at being the ruffler.
Instead, he did the honorable thing and went off to jump in the icy river.
Was it the same river he was racing along right now? It was strange to be so close to something that could lead him right back to the camp. He stopped his bike
again, and took another swig of whisky, pausing to take a look at the half-empty bottle.
Alcohol. Alcohol did play a role in getting me into this mess.
Sirius swore and tossed the bottle into the river. It flew through the air, letting loose a stream of golden liquid, catching the moonlight.
Damn this moonlight. Stupid werewolves.
He watched the bottle sink, and remembered.
After his little swim in the river, he had spent the rest of that day acting like the usual kind of idiot. He was pretty sure that James and Peter had noticed nothing.
He himself had felt very uneasy, though.
Remus, meanwhile, had sat down under a tree and read. Calm and collected, he would welcome Sirius with a vague smile whenever the latter happened to walk
by. Sirius tried to keep those walks down to a minimum, even though just walking by the tree was enough to take the edge off his unease.
Well, there were other ways to get over one's lack of ease. As night fell, he took his whisky bottle off into the forest, away from his friends' eyes. He knew it
would not solve his problems, but it did often make them go away, at least for a while.
Only this time it didn't.
As time went on and more and more liquor burnt its way down his throat, Sirius found himself deciding that Remus had not actually seemed outraged at all. He
was, after all, pretty open-minded. He had to be, with all his problems.
Would he be open to a proposition? Sirius decided to give it a try, if only to get the idea out of his head. If it didn't work, he could always blame it on the liquor.
Quite truthfully, really.
Returning his bottle to its hiding place, he walked back to the tent, softly. He crept in, making a point of jarring Remus' hip.
Damn it! He's asleep. He didn't even feel me touch him.
Sirius slowly inched his way into his sleeping bag, and considered the situation, his courage leaking away slowly. What was he supposed to do, molest a sleeping
friend? Wake him up, and offer him an, um, backrub?
Why can't I be my usual, suave self? How James would laugh.
On second thoughts, I don't think he would. I think he'd have a fit.
Lying there, wrapped up in indecision and a tattered sleeping bag, Sirius felt all heat leak away with his courage. All those cold baths, and all that drinking, had
done him no good whatsoever.
He started to shiver.
This has GOT to be one of the lowest points of my life.
"Sirius?" a hoarse voice asked in the darkness, "Are you OK?" A hand touched his shoulder and Sirius felt energy flowing back into his body and mind. "Do you
want to go and warm up by the fire?" the voice continued, full of concern.
Hah! As if I WOULD ever leave such a perfect setup!
"No, this is f-fine," Sirius whispered, moving in closer. He had a plan. "You know, R-remus," he began persuasively, "My mother's friend Uncle Ch-cherry, the
polar explorer, had a bit of advice for s-situations just like this."
He felt electricity shoot through him as Remus' hand slipped in through the bag.
"Sharing a s-sleeping bag!" he continued. "It helps to capture body heat, you know."
I'll tell him the penguin egg expedition story, that should convince him.
But Remus was, apparently, much more easily convinced. Sirius heard a sound that sounded quite a bit like the swish of an opening sleeping bag.
His reactions had always been fast, though, and, surprised or not, he wasted no time before switching bags. He felt much warmer immediately, once Remus had
put his arms around him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
If this wasn't Remus, I'd think he was hitting on me. But, in this case, it's quite possible that he's just being helpful.
There's one way to find out. Like flipping a coin.
Having made up his mind, Sirius turned around and kissed Remus on the lips. It was an intense kiss, but not a very adventurous one; the sort of kiss you could
maintain even if the other party didn't really kiss you back.
Remus didn't. At first, all his muscles were locked in shock. Then, the moment he had recovered, he pulled back rapidly, breathing hard in confusion. Still, he
could escape neither the sleeping bag nor his friend.
OK, so he WASN'T hitting on me. But if he was completely unhappy with me, surely he would have punched me by now?
Sirius leaned slightly towards Remus' right ear. "Remus," he whispered. "As I see it, you have two options now. You can either run out of this tent and send in
Peter who is, I promise, safe from my molestations, or you can kiss me back."
"Are you sure?"
Quite sure.
"Option two, then," Sirius said, leaning in again, this time will more pleasing results. This kiss went on for quite a while. As he ran a casual hand through Remus'
hair, he could feel his friend drawing closer, shuddering as if in relief.
He himself was no longer shivering at all. He felt quite wonderfully warm, inside and out.
This feels so right. And to think I almost chickened out of trying!
He heard the two of them making idle chit-chat, but his own replies were just automatic. He felt pleasure wash through him, but he was no stranger to that. He
was most interested in the warm glow he could feel in his heart, and in how long before the glow was replaced by the usual unease.
In the darkness, he could not see Remus, but he could hear his uneven breathing and, sometimes, even the rapid beat of his heart.
It's really quite amusing how much the fact that it's Remus, of all people, appeals to me.
And so it went on, amusing, exciting and soothing all at once. Like the best thing in the world: like a non-violent fight between equals. And Sirius enjoyed both
winning and losing equally.
There were a few time-outs.
"I thought Shakespeare said that alcohol takes away from the performance," Remus muttered dizzily somewhere around half-time.
"You can't trust Shakespeare," Sirius yawned, "Just look at the way he portrayed witches. Anyway, never mind all that now: is this a dagger which I see before me?"
It's stupid to wish that this could go on forever. Dawn will come, and the real world is waiting outside.
It wasn't until he heard the birds singing outside that Sirius started to feel on edge again. Remus could not help this time; he had dozed off. After taking a long
look at his sleeping friend, Sirius pulled his arm away, and slipped out of the bag carefully.
He did not want to leave. Which, of course, was why he had to.
A fast escape on the morning after is the best way to avoid complications.
He had avoided complications by turning into a dog and jogging to the village to look for poodles. Even his doggy self was, however, quite disturbed when he
noticed his sudden attraction to the sullen wolfhound at the fire-station.
I'd do better as a human. And on my Shadow.
He went back for a moment to fetch his bike, but it was a toss-up as to what was worse: being a dog with unexpected psychological problems, or a half-drunk
sleep-deprived cloakless motorcyclist in denial.
What about a rejected werewolf?
The thought surprised him as he stood there, gazing into the river. He'd never really considered Remus' point of view.
He'll be fine. He always is, damn him.
Sirius could recall many instances of Remus coping annoyingly well with stressful situations.
Not THIS sort of situation, though: can't remember his ever being in one.
The prickle of guilt was a very new emotion. He chewed it over.
He WILL be fine. He must be.
But would he, Sirius, be fine?
For a guy with a five minute attention span, he'd been spending a ridiculous amount of time focused on just the one... problem.
Well, what was he to do? Take it one hour at a time, perhaps. He turned his bike around and set out for the campsite.
* * * * * * *
Remus found himself enjoying his moonlit ramble down the narrow wooded track. He reckoned he was several miles from their campsite by now and still had several more miles to go until he'd get to the village.
Not that he actually wanted to reach the village or to find Sirius, for that matter. He didn't know what he wanted to do, but being alone in the forest and going somewhere was better than being alone in the tent and lying there listening for-
Listening for what? Sirius' drunken stumblings outside the tent? The infernal silence of the camp, save for Peter's snoring, had finally driven him into the forest.
For some reason, he had taken Sirius' cloak with him when he left. Just in case. Such a good friend, Remus. Always there when you need him, whether it was the cloak you forgot, lecture notes from a class you missed, or ...a warm sleeping bag. How very convenient Remus was.
He heard the motorcycle ages before he could see it. As the familiar bass rumble got closer and more distinct, his stomach filled with ice and his limbs got heavier and heavier, until he could no longer walk at all.
Sirius saw the figure first in moonlight and then in the glare of his headlamp. His fingers itched on the throttle. What if he just kept going?
But he stopped the bike, killed the engine and the headlamp, and stood balancing unsteadily over the seat. As his eyes adjusted to the moonlight, now bleaching his friend's brown hair a ghostly white, he saw with some surprise that Remus clutched his cloak in both hands. The sight of it made him shiver, realizing how cold he was. And shivering made him think of ... something he didn't want to think about.
He felt safe on the bike, almost reluctant to get off, another completely new feeling. This was turning out to be a night of new and unexpected emotions.
When he did get off, he managed to slide off the seat with his accustomed panache, but the ground met him in a rather unforgiving way. He stumbled and nearly lost the Shadow, which teetered unsteadily as if it were as drunk as he was. This wouldn't do. After wrestling with the kickstand, the bike stood motionless.
As did Remus, silently holding out the cloak and giving him that look, the boy-have-you-been-an-idiot look. The longer Remus stood there, the angrier Sirius became.
"How can you calmly stand there and hand me my cloak?" he yelled.
Remus was thrown into confusion, feeling anything but calm. He expected rejection, but.... what was this? If only he could make his legs work, he would turn and escape into the forest, slipping silently through the trees. As it was, he could only stand there like the fool he was, holding the cloak and gawking at the apparition in tight jeans and a T-shirt.
"Don't you realize what we did?" Sirius continued his rant to the utterly shocked Remus.
"'Of course." After several attempts, he managed to produce the measured voice that he used for lying to teachers, although inside he fought the twin urges to run and to bite. That familiar fight-or-flight response.
"The question is, do you?" he continued. "After a night of drinking and picking up chicks," he said acidly, "perhaps you scarcely remember." Voicing that single sentence made him feel as if he was letting all his fears and bitterness show. It was uncharacteristic of him, and he knew it, but perhaps he also knew that the stakes were higher here.
Still furious, Sirius moved closer, attempting to snatch the cloak, but failing because his sense of balance was not working terribly well. He fell roughly to the ground at Remus' feet.
"Dammit! Do I look like I'm in any condition to pick up chicks?" Sirius replied hoarsely, the edge of anger leaking out of his voice.
Remus took a step closer. Sirius was sitting on the ground with his legs set at awkward angles, as if he still did not have control of them.
"Unfinished business with you, Moony," he muttered as he looked down and ran his hands through his hair.
Remus couldn't help but admire the tight jeans and the way in which the T-shirt stretched and rippled over Sirius' shoulders as he cradled his head in his hands. Any number of girls had probably felt the same way before, he told himself, and look where it got them.
"You're already one of my best friends, a better friend than I knew." Sirius broke the silence, staring up at Remus with an uncharacteristically searching look on his face.
"Because I'll sleep with you, you mean?" Bitterness and caution had still not entirely left Remus' tone, although he continued to thaw.
"...because it felt right. No, more than right, it felt terrific. Didn't you feel it, Moony?" Sirius tried to get up, but couldn't muster enough coordination to complete the job.
Sitting there, amidst the dirt and pine needles, Sirius discovered that it was possible to feel more miserable than he had on the previous night when he crawled into the tent and debated with himself about taking the first step down this road. Now he was smack in the middle of it and it hurt; it hurt more than any affair he'd ever had with a girl, even the long ones of a week or more. He had thought he knew who he was, but now he wasn't so sure. And that particular feeling was quite alien to him.
"Do you think I'm made of stone? Of course I- " Remus stopped, feeling a warm flush spreading from his face downward, and was thankful he wore a loose robe to cover the effect. His friend continued to struggle, trying unsuccessfully to get up. Instinctively, Remus reached out a hand and pulled Sirius up with one swift movement. He staggered a bit, making Remus grip his shoulders to keep him from falling.
"I can't stop being your friend..." Remus said slowly, knowing the simple truth without needing further proof or explanation. As he searched his friend's face, a thousand images ran through his mind: games and jests from boyhood, listening to Sirius recount his adventures with girls (sometimes in graphic detail). He tried to make all those memories fit with what he felt at that instant, which was an almost overwhelming desire to kiss Sirius. Hard..
Sirius felt a flicker of hope, and, also, a growing tightness in his jeans. He didn't know where this would end, but if Remus was still willing to be his friend, things might work out.
"...but I don't want to be one of your conquests, either." Remus finished his sentence with a conviction that startled them both.
Before Sirius could reply, Remus did kiss him, a long, deep kiss that lasted many minutes.
They fell apart slightly, each breathing hard and eyeing the other, not with suspicion, but with a growing comprehension of how it was going to be.
"I'll run us back to camp on the bike," Sirius suggested with a shadow of his old grin. "And then to bed?"
"Gods, you're drunk," replied Remus, fastening the cloak around his friend's shoulders.
"But I bet it won't affect my performance. Care to see?" Sirius said as he swung his leg expertly over the seat of the motorcycle. Some things he could do drunk or sober.
Remus only laughed in response and climbed on behind him, snaking his arms around Sirius' waist securely. With a kick to start the engine, they were off.
The following morning, the sun seemed unusually bright, and the birds sounded exceptionally cheery. Remus and Sirius woke and dressed, no awkwardness between them. With one final conspiratorial grin, they crawled out of their tent.
The sun hit them in the eyes. It was much higher in the sky that they had expected: that explained the brightness.
"It's past noon!" Remus squinted at his other friends, already busy with lunch preparations. "Why didn't you guys wake us?"
"We tried," James replied, "But there seemed to be some sort of silencing charm on your tent." He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.
"Oh, yeah, that," Sirius grinned, unable to prevent himself from sending Remus an amused sidelong glance. Remus, as always more controlled, restrained himself and did not meet his eye. "My fault, I'm afraid," Sirius continued. "I put up a Cone Of Silence to keep out Peter's snoring."
"Do I snore, then?" Peter looked up from the fire. "Mum never told me..."
"I'm afraid you do, Peter," Remus smiled. "And Sirius doesn't: it's the only advantage to having him as a tentmate."
Sirius looked a little taken aback by that statement.
"Sirius doesn't snore, but he will talk." James replied. "At least from what I remember... What about you, Remus? Didn't he try to keep you up all night?"
"Er, possibly." Remus hid his confused grin by leaning over the cooking pot, "What's for lunch, then?"
"Sausages?" Sirius asked in a funny voice which everybody chose to ignore.
Especially as there were more interesting things around to pay attention to. "What's that on the back of your neck, Remus?" Peter asked.
"What?" Remus sat up sharply, touching his nape with one hand. His pale face reddened round the edges. "Oh, that, just a scratch."
"Looks nasty," Peter said with concern. "Does it run all the way down your back?"
"And where did you get it, anyway?" James was curious.
"Remus came out with me last night," Sirius replied, "And, along the way, he ran afoul of an animal. A really impressive animal," he finished smugly.
"Do you mean a human, bar-dwelling sort of animal," James asked, confused, "or an animal animal?"
"A bit of both, one might say," Remus said crypticaly. "Still, I promise that if I ever run into this animal again, I will pay it back for all it did to me."
"You think you could, huh?" Sirius drew back his shoulders and looked over at Remus, who could not, this time, resist meeting his eye.
"Are they going to fight?" Peter asked James. "Why are they staring like that?"
James shrugged. "There's something odd going on here, if you ask me. Does this animal have something to do with Sirius? What were you two up to, last night?"
Remus twitched. Pulling himself together, he took a deep breath, and turned towards James. "Oh, you know how odd things always happen when Sirius is around. And odd things get said," he continued, with a quick, forceful glance at Sirius. "Sometimes I think we'd be better off if we cast a permanent Cone Of Silence on him."
"It's not all that odd," Sirius replied. "All I did was give Remus a ride on my bike, and we rode through some brambles, and then the inevitable happened..."
"Yes, well, that's all quite true," Remus nodded, stirring the stew.
James and Peter accepted this explanation at face value. Neither of them had enough imagination to realize what Sirius had meant by 'the inevitable.'