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0. The Plan

Code Name: Operation Love Languages

Objective: Get Remus to realize that Sirius is ridiculously in love with him 

Method: Sirius uses the five languages of love (as outlined by Gary Chapman) to flirt his way into Remus’s bed

The Love Languages: Physical Touch, Words of Affirmation, Gift Giving, Quality Time, and Acts of Service

When James’s PowerPoint presentation ends, he’s met with silence. The giant grin on his face makes Sirius think he was expecting a more joyful reaction. Instead, Peter just looks sceptical and Sirius…well, Sirius isn’t quite buying it either. 

“And, you really think this’ll work?” Sirius asks.

His hesitation is warranted. He’s been in love with Remus for nearly a decade. He’s loved him through partners and breakups, through graduations, new apartments, a wedding and a divorce. He’s loved him since they were 16 years old–too young to know what love is, really, but he felt it anyway. And he loves him now at 26; disability and excitable toddler included. 

Needless to say, Operation Love Languages would not be the first attempt Sirius has made to convey his feelings to Remus, should he choose to go through with it. The plans are neverending, and they never work. Sirius likes to blame Remus for being so thick, but deep down, he knows the situation is not aided by his own inability to just say the damn words. It’s just three words! How hard can it be?

“It’s foolproof!” James insists. He backs up to the slide where he summarized the love languages book, and points at the screen. “It has to work. It’s science!”

“It’s pseudoscience,” Peter corrects. “And that’s being nice. More realistically, it’s a load of dung. Padfoot, honestly, just tell him how you feel, mate. This is getting ridiculous.”

Something happens inside Sirius’s stomach at the idea of telling Remus how he feels. It’s a squirming sensation, like his guts are rearranging themselves. Suddenly James’s stupid plan feels a lot less stupid. 

“So, how does this work, then?” Sirius asks James, ignoring the way Peter scoffs at him. 

“Easy. Just utilize one love language at a time, and use his reactions to them to deduce what his love language is. Then, you know exactly how to win him over!”

“Couldn’t Sirius just ask him what his love language is?” Peter asks. 

“What happened to love languages being a ‘load of dung’?” James retorts, an eyebrow raised humorously, bursting into laughter when Peter flicks him off in response.

1. Words of Affirmation: The Experiment

He decides to start small. After all, he doesn’t want to scare Moony away with grand declarations of love–that’s what he’s trying to avoid in the first place. 

The first day of the plan is hardly different than any other day. Sirius spends most of the morning in his office on the 15th floor of a London skyrise, ignoring his emails and sketching concept art for the brand’s autumn fashion line. None of it is turning out the way he wants it to (which is typical for him), and as he nears lunch, he gets unfathomably hangry (also typical for him). 

So, he leaves the building and picks up lunch for two at a little Greek restaurant on the corner (the restaurant changes day to day, but otherwise, this is normal), and climbs onto his motorcycle, driving in the direction of Remus’s house (it is, truly, a perfectly average day).

It had been a blessing when Remus graduated from uni two years ago (two years after all the rest of them did, due at first to his disability, and then to his infant son, and then to his messy divorce) and could finally go from working shitty part time jobs that left him exhausted and in pain to working freelance cyber security gigs from home. 

The main benefits are, of course, the flexibility with his hours, allowing him to work less and rest or care for Teddy more, and being able to stay off his feet and take breaks when needed. The money doesn’t hurt, either. A smaller, but just as important benefit (to Sirius, at least) is that he can leave work to have lunch with Remus every day–a luxury that they’ve both grown quite fond of. 

Sirius uses his copy of Remus’s key to open the front door to the flat, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He kicks off his shoes, hangs his leather jacket on the hook, and tosses his keys onto the little table by the door, shouting, “I hope you’re in the mood for gyros!” 

Remus pokes his head around the corner and puts a finger in front of his lips, before pointing to the phone at his ear. On a call with a client, then. That’s fine, Sirius can be patient. 

Determined to make himself useful, he heads to the kitchen and unpacks their lunches onto clean plates and throws away the trash. When he’s done, Remus is still on the phone, so he puts himself to work washing the handful of dishes in his sink and wiping down the counters. He knows he’ll get an earful from Remus later–“You don’t have to clean my house for me, Sirius, I’m perfectly capable.”–but he does it anyway, because bending over the sink always hurts Remus’s back, and Sirius is always looking for ways to minimize his pain, even at the threat of being lectured. 

As he’s finishing up, Remus walks into the kitchen, collapsing into the chair at the small table, and immediately begins to wolf down his lamb gyro. 

“Forget breakfast again?” Sirius asks, sitting down across from him to start on his own lunch. Remus grunts, which means ‘yes.’ “If you keep doing that, I’ll have to start bringing you breakfast, too.” Remus grunts again, which this time means, ‘by all means, be my guest.’ Sirius snorts. 

They don’t talk while they eat, which is fine, because it gives Sirius the opportunity to just…look at him. He’s gorgeous, as always, with his adorable tawny curls and his bright hazel eyes and the constellation of freckles spread across his nose and cheeks. The bags under his eyes are dark and deep–he’d been in pain last night, then–but it doesn’t take from  his beauty. 

He’s dressed well today. He isn’t always. Some days he works in his pajamas, but today he’s in khaki trousers and a green tee with a soft, wool sweater covering him. It’s unbuttoned, which means he’s chilly, but not too cold, which is good. His socks have lobsters on them. Sirius’s heart aches.

Dressed well means it’s his week with Teddy. Not that Sirius needs the hint of his clothes to know. He knows the toddler’s schedule just as well as either of his parents, and better, probably, than his mother’s girlfriend, which fills him with more pride, perhaps, than it should.

By the time Remus finishes, pushing his plate away with a sigh, Sirius is only a few bites in. “Bad day?”

Remus huffs and pulls his feet up onto the chair, wrapping his arms around his knees. He always looks a bit silly like that, long limbs drawn in close, his chin resting on his knee. It’s a stance he’s taken for at least as long as Sirius has known him, but he thinks it only becomes cuter the older the other man gets.  

“Arsehole client,” Remus mumbles, breaking Sirius out of his thoughts. He huffs again and kicks his feet back to the floor. “I encrypted this guy's data back in, like, ‘23! And he got hacked last night and then spent all morning yelling at me about how now I owe him his money back, as if cyber security is infallible. As if I did a horrible job, like my work didn’t protect him for two bloody years.”

“Sounds like an entitled douchebag, if you ask me,” Sirius says, keeping his voice calm so as not to heighten Remus’s anger, despite his own brewing in his gut. 

“‘Entitled douchebag’ is a little nice, honestly,” he bites, slumping back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then, “I hung up on him.”

And that’s Sirius’s opening. Operation Love Languages is a go. “Good for you!” he answers proudly. “He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. You’re damn good at what you do, Moony, and if he couldn’t see that, then that’s on him.”

Remus relaxed slightly at that and, much to Sirius’s pleasure, blushed lightly. “Yeah,” he shrugs, unsure. “I’m proud of myself for hanging up on him, at least. I wish it hadn’t taken me two hours, though.”

“Hey, it’s progress, right?” Remus is and always has been incredibly anxious. The therapy and anxiolytics help a lot, though, and, if you ask Sirius, so has his work. He doesn’t have a manager to help him in difficult situations with clients as a freelancer, which means he’s had to advocate for himself. It’s done him a lot of good. The first time an angry client kept him on the line for hours on end, Remus just sat there and took it. It was a four and a half hour call. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you, too. You’re incredible, Moony. Absolutely incredible.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, getting up and busying himself with the lunch dishes in an attempt to hide his pleased smile and pink cheeks, which shift into annoyance the moment he reaches the sink. “Sirius–stop doing my fucking dishes, arsehole.”

Sirius has known Remus long enough to not take his words at face value. He knows that ‘arsehole’ is said fondly and that ‘stop doing my dishes’ actually just means ‘thanks.’

He decides to get a bit bolder at their weekly Marauder family dinner on Saturday. 

The weekly dinner started after they’d graduated from Hogwarts Secondary School as a way to stay in touch as they all parted ways for uni. At first, it wasn’t an actual dinner party, but more like a small get together with the few of them who could make it, and those who couldn’t calling in on FaceTime. 

Now, though, eight years later, it’s grown into something much bigger. Now that they’d all graduated uni and found their way back to London, weekly dinner is an actual get together. They take turns hosting every week, and most of the time, everyone is present. 

And it’s not just the four Marauders anymore–it’s Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James, of course, but it’s also Lily and the Potter kids, Harry and Dahlia, plus Mary and Marlene, Teddy, when he isn’t with his mother, and the newest addition, Peter’s girlfriend Abigail, who, they had all agreed after meeting her a month ago, is just about the sweetest thing on the planet. 

It’s Peter’s turn to host this week, and when Sirius arrives with a bottle of wine in one hand and a twelve pack of beer in the other, Abigail, Mary and Marlene are already there. This doesn’t surprise Sirius. Unless they were the ones hosting, the ones with kids were typically the last to show up. Something about the little buggers being a handful. 

He puts the alcohol in the fridge and claps Peter on the shoulder before kissing the women on the cheeks. Abigail is helping Peter cook while the other two have already broken into a bottle of rosé and are sitting on the counter playing footsie, entirely unhelpful.

Shooing the girls off the counter, Sirius takes the mushrooms that Abi offers him and begins slicing, listening as the others discuss work. He peacefully chops vegetables and listens, offering a bit of input here and there for a few minutes, before he hears the front door open and close. He looks up, staring through the kitchen door to see who has arrived, and smiles gleefully when he sees that it’s Remus. 

Immediately, he abandons his knife on the cutting tray with the half-chopped sweet pepper and rushes over to Remus, who has one hand full of grocery bags and the other leaning heavily on his cane. He takes the bag from him with a, “Hi, Moony,” and a blush that leaves him feeling hot and awkward. And then Remus smiles, and all is right in the world. 

As he’s putting away the bottles of liquor that Remus brought–they take turns supplying the hard stuff, even though they don’t have it in them to drink quite as much as they did even two years ago–he hears a screech from the hallway, and then three-year-old hurricane Teddy Lupin comes running into the kitchen, crashing himself against Sirius’s legs and holding his arms up to be lifted. 

Sirius plays a game of pretending to be too weak to carry him that leaves the boy in stitches, and when he finally gets Teddy on his hip, he looks over to Remus to find the man smiling fondly, if a bit sadly. Sirius knows how much it upsets him that he’s sometimes in too much pain to carry his own son.

“Have you gotten bigger since I saw you last, little wolf?” Sirius asks, tickling his tummy, delighting in the sound of his giggle. “So strong and handsome, just like your papa, aren’t you?” He looks out of the corner of his eyes to see Remus’s reaction, and is overjoyed to find him blushing. 

Teddy stays practically attached to Sirius’s hip until James and Lily show up with Harry and his best friend in the whole world, Dahlia. The two are the same age, making them quick friends, and Harry, at six, fancies himself their supervisor, watching over them as they play to make sure they’re being kind and fair. Or at least, that’s what Harry tells them. Personally, Sirius just thinks Harry likes being the boss (or as Lily says, the leader). 

Once the children are off occupying themselves, Sirius sidles up next to Remus, letting their arms brush. “Your back or your legs?”

“Trick question,” Remus answers dryly. “My hips.” 

That would explain why he’s still standing, then, rather than sinking into Peter’s plush couch in the living room or the sturdy chair in the dining room. 

“Although, now that you mention it, my back isn’t faring too well, either,” he adds on, and then whispers, so that only Sirius hears it, “I hate being in pain when I have Teddy.” 

“I know,” Sirius responds, just as quietly. “But he’s old enough now to understand, at least a little bit. He’s happy and healthy and so, so loved.” He leans slightly, knocking his shoulder against Remus’s. “You’re doing good with him, Moons. You’re a good dad.”

“Thanks, Padfood,” Remus replies, bashful and unsure. But he doesn’t deny it, so Sirius counts it as a success. 

Over the course of their dinner, he takes every opportunity to complement Remus. He comments on the color of his jumper and the freckles on his cheek. He makes passing remarks about how pretty his smile is, or his eyes. He laughs a little too hard when Remus says something funny. He says nice things to Teddy, telling him how much like his father he is (that one gets him a look from Lily, like he perhaps shouldn’t be using the man’s child to flirt with him, but Sirius doesn’t particularly care).

Remus turns a beautiful shade of red when he blushes. It spreads not just across his face, but to the tips of his ears and down his neck. Sirius wonders how far it goes. He wonders if his collarbones go pink, or his chest. And then, suddenly, he’s thinking about Remus with his shirt off which, of course, leads him to thoughts about Remus with his trousers off, and then–

Sirius shuts his eyes for just a moment, enough time to shove the mental images his brain is conjuring into a box to deal with later. Later being at home, in bed. 

After dinner, the kids run off to play again, and Mary starts mixing drinks, announcing with glee that it’d be margaritas that night. While she busies herself in the kitchen, Remus excuses himself to the balcony, and when Sirius asks if he can tag along, the answer is a ‘yes’ paired with an adorable smile. 

“Mind if I smoke?” Sirius asks, his hand over the pocket that holds his cigarettes. Remus shakes his head no, so he puts one between his lips and lights it. “How’s the hip?”

“Fine,” Remus shrugs. “Better after some wine.” This doesn’t surprise Sirius. Remus tends to hold himself too tight, and the muscle tension only makes his pain worse. The relaxing effect of the alcohol tends to ease the pain, if only slightly. “It’d be even better after tequila, but…”

But Teddy. Remus never has more than a glass of wine early in the night when Teddy is with him. Especially when he’s not home and is responsible for getting the boy home safely. 

“Have a margarita,” Sirius says. “I’ll get you two boys home safely.”

“You don’t have to do that, Pads.”

“I know. I want to. It’ll help your pain.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” Remus looks at him, a shine in his eyes that Sirius can’t quite identify, which is a bit unsettling given how well he knows him. “You’re a good friend. And a good Uncle. Ted and I are very lucky to have you.”

Sirius reads between the lines, even if he feels a bit presumptuous doing so; I’m very lucky to have you . He flushes, deep and dark. 

They sit in charged silence, bound in tension while Sirius finishes his cigarette. And then they head back inside. 

1. Words of Affirmation: The Results

Dear Diary,  

This is not a diary, Prongs. This is a scientific journal, meant to outline the results of our experimentations. Fuck off with that diary bullshit. 

Anways. Let’s restart.

1. Words of Affirmation: The Results 

Remus The subject is prone to blushing and avoiding eye contact in response to compliments, encouragement, and otherwise uplifting words of support. The subject is also likely to return the sentiment when exposed to words of affirmation at a high frequency over a short range of time.

It is difficult to say at this time whether the experiment thus far has caused any change in the level or type of affection that the subject feels in relation to the experimenter. More data is needed.

Status: Success

2. Gift Giving

Remus John Lupin is notorious for refusing to accept gifts. For that, Sirius almost skips this step of James’s so-called ‘genius’ plan. But he thinks he can find a work around. 

See, Remus hates being given expensive gifts. He grew up poor, while James and Sirius had grown up filthy rich, and Peter had lived quite comfortably as a child. Remus hated, not gifts, but feeling like a charity case. It was something Sirius had seriously struggled to understand when he was younger, but as he got older, it got easier to wrap his head around. 

The trick, he thinks, is not to buy frivolous things just for the sake of spending money. To start phase two Sirius sets out to only give gifts that fall in one of two categories: things Remus needs, and things he doesn’t have to spend any, or very little, money on that remind him of Remus. 

Phase two starts off very poorly. 

For months, Remus has needed a new toaster. His twenty year old toaster set fire to his kitchen ages ago, and he still hasn’t replaced the damn thing. So, Sirius orders him one. He doesn’t even say anything, just has it delivered to his front door. 

On Wednesday morning, Sirius receives a text from Remus while he’s at work, hunched over a sewing machine. 

Moonpie 🌕: How many times do I have to ask you not to do this? I can buy my own toaster. Please stop.

Sirius frowns at his phone, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he tries to come up with an answer that isn’t Can you just accept kindness for once in your life you stubborn arsehole?

He should’ve expected this. In some ways he did expect it. It’s why he wanted to do gift giving, which was bound to be a failure, so early, and why he’d wanted to do it after words of affection, which had been nearly guaranteed to be a success. 

Sirius: ya i know but u havnt 🙁 was just trying to be nice

Remus’s answer comes almost immediately. 

Moonpie 🌕: Well don’t.

Sirius sighs in defeat, putting his phone face down on his desk before diving back into his work, trying to put Remus out of his mind and failing miserably.

So clearly, the ‘things Remus needs’ category is off the table.

Time for category two, then. Things that are free or cheap that remind Sirius of Remus.  

So, the next day, on his way to pick up the Thai takeaway he’d ordered for them, he stops at the florist across the street and picks up a small bouquet of sunflowers–they’re inexpensive but, like Remus, beautiful, and they represent joy. Sunflowers have always reminded Sirius of Remus. It’s a perfect gift.

Instead of his motorcycle, he takes an Uber to Remus’s flat–he doesn’t want the wind to destroy the flowers–but without the road to pay attention to, all Sirius can think about is the way Remus is going to react to the flowers. 

What if he gets mad?

What if it’s too romantic?

What if it’s not romantic enough?

What if he hates them?

What if, what if, what if…

He almost doesn’t notice when the car stops in front of Remus’s building. Almost. He stares out the window, swallowing down the bile that rises in his throat. This was a bad idea. But it’s too late now, all he can do is commit. Or he could throw the flowers away. There’s a bin right there on the pavement–

“Are you getting out or not?” the driver asks rudely. 

“Right sorry,” he mumbles, stumbling anxiously out of the car. 

As if on autopilot, he walks into the building and up the stairs to the door of Remus’s flat. He pauses outside to breathe, to attempt to calm his racing heart. Is he sweating? He thinks he might be sweating. Jerkily, he lowers his face and lifts his arm to make sure his body odor hasn’t taken over his deodorant and cologne. He smells fine. Good, even. He needs to calm down and just open the damn door. 

Finally, he slots his key in and opens the door. As always, he kicks his shoes off in the entryway and hangs his jacket on the hook before walking to the kitchen to serve their food. Before he grabs plates and forks, though, he finds a vase under the sink and fills it with water for the flowers. 

Remus walks in as he’s setting the plates on the table, and is kind enough not to mention the toaster–which, it hasn’t escaped Sirius’s notice, is on the counter plugged in. 

“Smells great, Pads,” he mumbles. It’s only after he falls into his chair and has the fork halfway to his mouth that he notices the vase of flowers on the table. He freezes, fork full of food in midair. “What are those?”

“Flowers,” Sirius says calmly as he sinks into his own seat apprehensively. “Sunflowers, to be specific.” He’s melting under Remus’s intense gaze, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t tear his eyes away from Remus’s hazel ones. “Do you like them?”

He feels stupid for asking, like a needy child, but Remus’s eyes soften a bit. “I do, actually. They’re lovely. Why did…”

“The shop was across from the restaurant,” he says. He leaves out the part where he chose that restaurant specifically because of its proximity to the florist and not the other way around, like he’s implying. “They had sunflowers in the window and…it made me think of you.”

Remus ducks his head, but not enough to hide his blush or the small smile that pulls at the corners of his lips. Sirius lets out a soft sigh of relief, tension melting from his shoulders. Everything is fine.

2. Gift Giving: The Results

The subject exhibits expected response to expensive gifts, even when they are practical in nature. (telling Sirius to fuck off) (Prongs, for fucks sake, can you please stop treating this like a diary? This is a SCIENTIFIC JOURNAL!) Upon receiving expensive gifts, the subject is not appreciative to the experimenter and requests he halt this behavior. 

On the other hand, the subject reacts to inexpensive, thought out, and personal gifts with blushing and becomes timid.

The overall behavior of the subject hasn’t changed in relation to how he reacts around the experimenter. There is no indication that this phase has altered his feelings of affection in any way. 

As the week progressed, the experimenter observed high frequency in the number of times the subject sniffed, looked at, or smiled at the sunflowers while he thought the experimenter was not looking. Whether it’s an indication of affection is yet to be determined.

Status: Semi-success

3. Quality Time: The Experiment

For phase three, Sirius decides to spend extra time, not only with Remus, but Teddy as well. Remus has a massive soft spot for his son (understandable, of course), and Sirius theorizes that spending time with Teddy will soften Remus toward him as well. Not to mention, Sirius himself has a big spot in his heart dedicated to the boy and would genuinely love to spend more time with him.So, he makes a plan.

Sirius: hiya moons 💛 u have ted 🧸 this wknd ??

Moonpie 🌕: Yes, I have Teddy. Sorry, I won’t be available. 

Sirius: ??? actually offended u think i only want to hang if teddy isnt with us

Sirius: do u understand how much i love that boy? 🙁

Moonpie 🌕: Right, sorry. You just usually want to go clubbing or something. What did you have in mind? 

Sirius: damn all im hearing is i need to spend more time with my godson 😣

Sirius: anywho

Sirius: the petting zoo in the aquarium 🐟 just opened

Sirius: thought ted wuld love it

Sirius: and ik u like the jellies 🪼

Sirius: …

Sirius: moony?

Moonpie 🌕: Sorry, just surprised. How’d you even know about it? 

Moonpie 🌕: The answer is yes, by the way. Teddy will be thrilled. 

Sirius: was looking for smth for us 3 to do together

Sirius: i miss hanging out with my boys 😭

Moonpie 🌕: I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Pads. I’m so excited.

Moonpie 🌕 *edited*: We’ve missed hanging out with you, too. 

Sirius: saturday?

Moonpie 🌕: Perfect.

On Saturday morning, Sirius stops for coffee and pastries before appearing outside of Remus’s flat, knocking instead of letting himself in so as to not surprise Teddy–the poor boy scares so easily. 

Remus opens the door with a smile and an excited Teddy on his hip. The little boy screeches when he sees Sirius, shouting, “Uncle Padfoot!” He reaches his arms out to him, and the two adults swap as smoothly as they can manage–breakfast for Teddy. 

“Oh, hello, little wolf,” Sirius greets the boy, peppering his round cheeks with kisses and basking in the sound of his laughter. If anyone were to ask, Sirius would say he loves all of his pseudo-nieces and nephews equally, but he knows, deep down, that this little boy in particular holds a very special place in his heart. He is, after all, half of the man Sirius loves. “Did your papa tell you where we’re going today?”

“AQUARIUM!” Teddy screams, throwing his hands into the air excitedly. His ‘r’ sound still sounds a bit like a ‘w’, and there’s something almost too adorable about that. 

“Inside voice, Edward,” Remus warns warmly, brushing a lock of hair off of his son’s forehead before turning to Sirius. “We’ve already eaten, but pastries will make for a good dessert tonight. Would you put his shoes on while I finish getting ready?”

“‘Course,” Sirius grins, taking the opportunity to drag his eyes down the other man’s body when he turns away and walks toward the kitchen. Once he’s safely behind the closed door, Sirius turns back to Teddy. “Do you think my plan is going to work, Teddy Bear?” he whispers as he carries the boy upstairs to his bedroom. “Think I’ll get him to fall in love with me?”

“I love you,” Teddy answers, not understanding what Sirius is talking about, but latching onto the word ‘love.’ He wraps his little arms around Sirius’s neck in a tight hug, and Sirius’s heart melts. 

“I love you too, Ted. Let’s get your shoes on, yeah?”

A few minutes later, everyone is ready and out the door. Remus has decided to drive because his knee feels good for once, and he likes the independence of being able to transport himself and his son around. Sirius doesn’t mind. He’s perfectly happy to play passenger princess, kicking his feet up (metaphorically–Remus won’t move the car an inch if he puts his feet up on the dash like he really wants to) and connecting his phone to the bluetooth radio for some music. 

“Something child friendly please,” Remus requests, even though they both know it’s unnecessary, that when Remus makes comments like this it’s not because he thinks Sirius is incapable, but out of pure instinct to protect his kid. 

“So, Sabrina Carpenter?” Sirius teases. “Or maybe Sex Pistols!” 

“I don’t think you could’ve come up with two more different artists if you’d tried,” Remus laughs, rolling his eyes. “Put on Raffi. Ted loves Raffi.”

Sirius scoffs playfully. “Yeah, I know what he likes,” he retorts, at the same time that Teddy screams, “RAFFI!” 

“Inside voice, Teddy,” Remus reminds him again, looking at him in the rearview. Unfortunately, he says this right as Baby Beluga begins playing through the speakers, and Teddy completely ignores his father in favor of screeching loudly, half singing, half mumbling along at a shouting volume.

“We do call him ‘little wolf’ for a reason, Moony, dearest,” Sirius laughs as Remus rubs his temples dramatically. “You must let him howl!”

Remus shoots him a glare, and Sirius only cackles in response. 

The aquarium petting zoo is even more incredible than Sirius had expected. They had spent nearly an hour bent over the side of the touch tank, feeling the textures of the rays and mollusks, holding starfish and crabs, and Teddy's favorite, petting tiny, adorable, spotted sharks. 

As expected, Remus’s favorite part of the whole day is watching the moon jellies float aimlessly in their tanks. Sirius suspects he could sit and watch them for hours on end, so when Teddy starts to get a bit antsy, he gives Remus a quick kiss on the side of the head and lifts the little boy onto his hip, taking him back to the shark exhibit that they’d spent most of the morning in. 

After a break for lunch, they spend some time in Sirius’s favorite section–the aquatic mammals. Sirius is fascinated by the movement of the seals and otters, the way the beluga whales play together. His excitement rubs off on Teddy, who spends the entire time in the exhibit standing so close to the glass that his nose is pressed against it, waving at the animals and talking to them like they can understand him. 

Without realizing it, Sirius leans against Remus as they watch him introduce himself to a baby polar bear–“Hello little bear. My name is Teddy. What’s your name?” He only notices their proximity when he feels Remus’s arm snake around his waist. He tenses for a brief moment, terrified that the slightest movement will scare him away, before he relaxes into it, lying his head gently on Remus’s shoulder, who leans his head against Sirius’s in turn. 

“Thank you for today,” Remus whispers. “Ted is having so much fun. And…I am, too. I, er…I like hanging out with you. Just us.”

Sirius feels his face heat up and his heart pound against his chest. He hadn’t anticipated Remus saying anything like this. It’s more than anything he could’ve hoped for. “Me too.” I love you, he wants to say. Instead, he says, “We can do it more, if you want.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Remus answers, and Sirius can hear the smile in his voice. “Maybe without Teddy next time?”

“As much as I adore Teddy,” Sirius sighs dramatically, making Remus chuckle. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

“Maybe, erm…we could do a movie night next weekend? If you want.” If Sirius didn’t know any better, he’d almost say Remus sounds nervous. But why would he? They’d had dozens of movie nights before, sometimes with others, but sometimes with just the two of them. It’s always loads of fun.

“Yeah, of course, Moonpie,” Sirius grins. “That sounds great.”

“Great,” Remus repeats, his shoulders relaxing under Sirius’s head. Sirius has no idea why he was so bloody tense in the first place. 

Hm. Odd.

3. Quality Time: The Results

The subject appears to be touched by the experimenter spending time with him, giving thanks and making offers to extend opportunities for time alone. 

During time spent together, the subject showed an increase in physical and verbal affection, including an arm wrapped around the experimenter’s waist, and leaning against the experimenter. The subject also thanked the experimenter for the time spent together whilst blushing and nervously asked to spend time together without the subject’s son present. The experimenter is still confused about that, but overall the experimenter is an idiot . Oi, Prongs, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Status: Resounding success

4. Acts of Service: The Experiment

Just like gift giving, acts of service proves to be complicated. Remus hates accepting help, largely because of his lifelong struggle with chronic pain. He hates feeling useless or dependent on others even when he’s actively in a great deal of pain.

It’s one of Sirius’s least favorite qualities of Remus’s. All he ever wants is to help him, but he’s always so reluctant to accept assistance in any form. He always gives in eventually, to Sirius at least, if no one else, but he always feels so guilty after. Which is why, when Sirius gets a text early Tuesday morning, it breaks his heart just a little bit. 

Moonpie 🌕: Can we cancel lunch today? I won’t make very good company.

Sirius sighs, knowing that Remus is having a flare up and yet is prepared to refuse any and all help. However, Sirius is nothing if not a good friend, so he emails his boss to tell her he’s sick and taking the day off (a little white lie never hurt anyone, right?) before texting Remus back.

Sirius: be there in an hour

Sirius: can u run a bath?

Moonpie 🌕: I’m fine, you don’t have to come.

Sirius: sux. run a bath if u can but dont hurt urself. b there soon 🫶

Moonpie 🌕: Fine. 

Sirius rolls his eyes at Remus’s stubbornness and stuffs his phone into his pocket alongside his wallet and keys, laces up his boots, and slips out the door. 

It takes less than the hour he promised to swing by the store and arrive at Remus’s flat. He lets himself in with the key and sets the grocery bag on the counter, kicks off his shoes, and hangs his leather jacket before climbing up the stairs to Remus’s room. 

When he opens the door, Remus is lying flat in bed, clad only in pants with the covers thrown off. His eyes are closed and his eyebrows furrowed, even though Sirius knows he hears him. Rather than saying anything, Sirius walks into the en suite bathroom and begins preparing a warm bath with all the salts and serums that are meant to help his pain. While the water runs, he goes back to Remus. 

“Morning, my Moon,” Sirius whispers. Remus’s hairline is damp with sweat, but Sirius kisses his temple anyway. “What hurts, darling?”

For a moment, Remus doesn’t answer, and Sirius busies himself with sliding his pants off of him and tossing them into the laundry pile, ignoring the soft penis resting on his thigh with a practiced ease. It had been hard to ignore the first few times he helped Remus bathe, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t affect him at all now, but he’s learned how to push past Remus’s nudity in favor of helping him. 

“Everything,” Remus finally answers. “Back, legs, shoulders, hips…”

“The bath will help,” Sirius tells him in an attempt to comfort him as he helps him sit up, and then stand. “I bought some of that salve, I’ll massage you when you’re done. And I’ll make soup and tea and whatever else you want, okay?”

Remus nods jerkily, leaning his weight on Sirius as they make their way slowly to the bathroom. With a great deal of effort, Sirius lowers him into the tub, taking the time to make sure he’s comfortable. 

“Would you like some telly?” Remus hesitates, and then nods and watches patiently while Sirius sets up his bath table tray and places his laptop on it. “Downton Abbey?”

“Please.” Sirius doesn’t know why he even bothers asking. Downton Abbey has been Remus’s comfort show while he’s ill since they were eighteen. 

“I’m gonna go make soup,” Sirius tells him. “Your phone is here, text me if you need anything, okay? I mean it, Moonpie.”

“Promise.” Remus attempts a smile, but it ends up looking more like a grimace. Sirius slides a hand through his hair and smiles, unable to mask the sadness in his eyes, before pressing play on the show and leaving the bathroom. 

Just as promised, Sirius starts by preparing some chicken noodle soup, and while it cooks, he gets to work on everything else. First, he brings some ibuprofen and water to Remus, knowing he hasn’t taken any yet, because he never does without a little push, and tells him to drink as much as he can. He makes his way into the bedroom then, and changes the bedsheets, putting the sweaty old set in the wash and making up the bed with a soft blue set that he knows Remus loves. 

While the laundry is running, he picks up the house, cleaning up some day old dishes and toys left scattered from when Teddy was there over the weekend. He does the washing up and cleans the kitchen, tidies the sitting room, Teddy’s room, and Remus’s room, and quickly vacuums the floors. 

After all this, the washer beeps, so Sirius switches over the laundry and puts a load of clothes in the washer instead. 

Finally satisfied with the state of Remus’s flat, Sirius checks on the soup to find it nearly done. All that’s left is to add in the noodles and let them cook. While they do, Sirius goes upstairs to help Remus out of the bath. “Lunch and then salve,” he tells him, and then, “You drank all of your water–that’s good, Moony. Really good. Let’s get you dressed, darling.”

They eat side by side in Remus’s bed, watching an episode of Downton Abbey on Remus’s laptop, and when they finish, Sirius guides him to lie down on the bed so he can massage the salve into his achy joints. 

He starts with his back, working the cream into the spots he knows cause Remus the most pain, once again ignoring the effect it has on his own body. The feeling of Remus’s skin underneath his fingers, the soft moans Remus lets out as he’s flooded with relief are borderline erotic, but, just like with his naked figure, Sirius has grown used to putting aside not only the pleasure it evokes in him, but the guilt he feels in response to the pleasure. He knows, now, years into taking care of Remus while he’s at his worst, that his body’s response is natural, that the most important part is prioritizing Remus and his comfort. 

After his back, Sirius works his hips, his thighs, his knees, his calves. By the time he reaches Remus’s feet, the soft sounds have pattered out, and Sirius knows he’s asleep. He smiles softly to himself, pleased to have relaxed Remus enough that he’s able to get some rest, and finishes his massage. 

By the time he heads home early the next morning, Remus is in significantly less pain, though Sirius knows he’ll still need a few days to recoup completely. 

He gets the text from Remus as he walks through his front door. 

Moonpie 🌕: Thank you for everything, Pads. You always take such good care of me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. 

Sirius is starting to think that this ‘experiment’ is beyond idiotic.

4. Acts of Service: The Results

The subject

The experimenter

This part of the experiment shows

The response

Remus was ill this week. Calling my care for him part of an ‘experiment’ would be so disgustingly disrespectful. This section of the experiment is officially cancelled. Maybe I ought to cancel the whole thing. Is the whole experiment disrespectful? Am I wrong for having done this?

Peter’s right, I should just tell him I love him.

Status: Null

5. Physical Touch: The Experiment

By the time their movie night rolls around, Sirius is having serious doubts about James’s plan. But he’s so close to finishing, he figures there’s no harm in seeing it through to completion. And besides, it’s not like he has to make any plans. Movie night is the perfect opportunity to cuddle up to Remus.

He spends the afternoon putting far more effort into his appearance than is likely necessary. He takes a long shower, going through every step of his hair care routine, before doing the same with his skin care when he climbs out an hour later. He pulls his curls into a bun (Remus likes the little strands that fall out when his hair is up), shaves his face (Remus prefers him beardless), and paints his nails black (Remus had mentioned once back in uni that he thought it was cool that Sirius painted his nails). 

As he approaches his wardrobe, Sirius itches to pull out his tightest jeans, but it’s movie night, which means comfort. So, instead, he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and the Pink Floyd shirt that he’s had since Year 11 that was big on him at the time, but now is just tight enough to show off his arms and chest without making him look like he’s trying to show off his arms and chest. 

By the time he’s done, it’s nearly time to leave, so Sirius pulls on his Docs and leather jacket, which looks silly with his sweatpants, but he won’t ride his motorcycle without it. He makes a quick stop at a corner shop, and then the next time he parks his bike, it’s in front of Remus’s flat. 

He feels oddly nervous as he walks up the steps, though he has no idea why. He and Remus have lunch together every day. He’s literally seen Remus naked. This is just a movie night. What is there to be nervous about?

The moment Sirius steps through the door, Remus is there at the threshold, ready to greet him. He looks adorable in one of his signature grandpa sweaters and a pair of pyjama pants with moons on them–a gift from Sirius nearly a decade ago. Sirius had no idea Remus even still had them. 

“Hey,” Remus says softly. 

“Hi,” Sirius smiles. He raises the bags in his hand to show Remus. “I brought snacks. And wine.”

“Perfect,” Remus smiles back. There’s something so gentle about this, about them in this moment. It’s unusual, yet familiar, and it makes Sirius’s heart flutter. “Pizza should be here any minute.”

“Did you order me Hawaiian, Moony?” Sirius teases, fully prepared for the mock gagging that comes from his friend. 

“Of course I did, you heathen,” Remus laughs. He takes the bags from Sirius so he can shrug off his jacket and kick off his shoes, and then the two make their way into the kitchen. Remus unpacks the bags of crisps and sweets, dumping them in bowls for easy snacking, while Sirius uncorks the wine bottle and pours them hefty glasses. They bring the wine and snacks to the couch, where they collapse side by side. 

“I was thinking we’d start with The Princess Bride,” Remus suggests, flicking on the television. 

Sirius gasps happily. “Oh, you know me so well, my Moon!”

“I have known you for a very long time, Sirius,” Remus chuckles. 

“Fifteen years,” Sirius confirms, sipping from his wine glass. “More than half of our lives. Can you believe that?”

“Can I believe I’ve been stuck with you for a decade and a half?” Remus laughs. “No, I truly cannot believe it.”

“Oh, please,” Sirius scoffs playfully. “You love me. You wouldn’t survive without me.”

“Well…”

“Oi!” Sirius grabs the pillow next to him and smacks Remus upside the head. “I am a joy to have in your life, don’t pretend I’m not.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna pretend you haven’t been a pain in my arse since we were eleven years old?” Remus laughs. The sound of it is like music to Sirius’s ears. He can’t even find it in himself to feel offended. 

“It’s part of my charm.” He goes to flip his hair over his shoulder dramatically, only to remember that his hair is in a bun and, therefore, not flippable. 

“That it is, Pads,” Remus sighs, shaking his head in amusement. Before either of them could say anything else, the doorbell rings. “That’ll be the pizza.” 

“I’ve got it,” Sirius says, jumping to his feet before Remus can stand. “You stay. Pull the movie up.”

At the door, Sirius takes the two pizzas from the delivery man and tips him, and then takes them to the living room, where The Princess Bride is pulled up on the TV. He passes Remus his pizza before sitting next to him, perhaps a hair closer to the other man than necessary, and opens his own box. 

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Sirius grins, and when Remus presses play, his eyes stay trained on him for just a moment too long. 

By halfway through the movie, they’ve both finished eating and are on their second glasses of wine, and are sitting close enough that their knees and elbows knock together. Every brief touch sends an electric shock through Sirius. It’s hardly been an hour, but he isn’t sure how much more of this he can take. 

It only gets worse when the sun dips below the horizon, and the temperature drops. Sirius knows Remus is cold before he even gets a chance to say anything from the way he crosses his arms over his chest, fingers gripping his biceps. 

“Here,” Sirius whispers, grabbing the quilt off of the back of the couch to cover them both. It’s an old blanket, made by Remus’s mother for him when he first left home for boarding school when he was only eleven. Hope had since passed, and when she did, the quilt had found its permanent home on the back of Remus’s couch.

“Thanks,” Remus smiles. 

It quickly becomes clear that the blanket may have been a mistake. Being under it together offers protection, of sorts. A cover that allows them to hide, to do things they ordinarily wouldn’t. Like when, a few minutes later, Remus shifts closer, leaving the two pressed together from shoulder to ankle. Or when, not ten minutes after that, Sirius pretends to be uncomfortable so he has an excuse to put his arm on the back of the couch behind Remus’s head. And then, Remus’s head is on his shoulder, and then his legs are draped over Sirius’s lap, and by the end of the movie, they’re a mess of limbs, so tangled together that they can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. 

Neither of them speaks as the credits roll, both too afraid to break the peace of the moment they’ve created. Sirius’s skin is on fire from Remus’s touch. He can’t stop himself from pressing his nose into the tawny curls just inches away, inhaling the clean scent of his shampoo. 

“Pride and Prejudice next?” Sirius finally proposes when the screen turns black. 

He can’t see Remus’s smile, but he knows it’s there as he says, “You know me so well, my Star.” It’s not the first time Remus has used that nickname, but it makes Sirius’s heart thud anyway. 

Their cuddle is broken long enough for Remus to pull up the next movie and for Sirius to refill their wine glasses. When the movie begins, they immediately find themselves back in their previous position–Remus all but curled up in Sirius’s lap, their arms wrapped around each other. 

It’s safe to say that Sirius pays almost no attention to the movie. Every neuron in his brain is zeroed in on Remus, on the contact of their skin where his fingers have crept up under the hem of Sirius’s shirt, or the weight of his legs on his lap, his head on his shoulder, his arms around his waist. Every breath Sirius takes is shallow, restricted by the rapid beat of his heart and the fear that even the smallest movement will chase Remus away. 

Time simultaneously drags slowly and goes by at the speed of light. Every second feels like hours and yet only minutes have passed by the time the credits begin to roll. Sirius braces himself for what’s about to come, for Remus to withdraw himself from his lap and declare movie night over, to send him on his way. 

It doesn’t come. 

Sirius finally drags his eyes down to Remus’s face to find that the other man has fallen asleep. Every muscle in his body relaxes at the sight of him like this. He’s so soft, so sweet looking. The usual tension in his brow is gone. He looks…at peace. There’s a soft ache in Sirius’s chest, and he thinks having Remus asleep in his arms like this has made him fall just a little bit more in love. 

He’s tempted to stay right here. To not move, to fall asleep right where he’s sitting just so that he doesn’t have to be separated from Remus. But that wouldn’t be fair. He knows how much pain Remus will be in in the morning if he spends the whole night in this position–his legs are drawn up and his back hunched, putting pressure on nearly all the joints and muscles that give him problems. Surely, though, he can enjoy this for a few moments longer, can’t he?

He can’t stop himself from running his fingers through the soft curls on Remus’s head, scratching at his scalp in the way he knows he likes, pulling apart knots gently when he encounters them. His imagination runs wild, mind filled with images of Remus waking, smiling that radiant smile up at him, leaning forward to kiss him. God, what he wouldn’t give to kiss him. To kiss him and know that he wasn’t fucking up their friendship forever. What a lovely thing that would be. 

Before he knows what he’s doing, Sirius’s lips are pressed softly against Remus’s temple. Despite his chill earlier in the night, there’s a bead of sweat on his hairline. He really should wake him. Help him into bed. Climb in next to him. 

No, he lectures himself. Don’t make this something it isn’t. Sure he’s been flirting for the last few weeks, trying to gather his ‘data’ for how to best woo Remus. But that doesn’t mean Remus sees him any differently than before. He certainly hasn’t been behaving any differently. 

It almost makes Sirius wonder what the bloody point of James’s stupid experiment was. He didn’t learn anything he didn’t already know. If he hadn’t been so wrapped up in the plan, in the excuse to not tell Remus how he feels outright, he could’ve admitted he already knew Remus’s love languages. 

He already knew how Remus responds to different types of affection. He knew Remus’s nuances, the way some gifts were good and others were bad; the way Remus struggles to accept compliments no matter how clear it is that he loves them; the way he always grumbles when Sirius does his dishes or cleans his flat, but is grateful when he comes to take care of him during a flare up; the way he smiles when Sirius shows up at his door with takeout for lunch every day, just for the sake of spending an hour together; the way he leans into any touch like he’s starved for it.

Truly, had he actually learned anything about Remus over the last few weeks? Had Sirius really behaved any differently around Remus than he usually does? Sure he’d been a bit flirtier, but the only real difference was that he was just paying more attention now. More attention to both Remus and himself.

Really, he’d learned more about himself during the course of James’s idiotic experiment. He knows now that Remus is and has always been his priority. He’s learned that he loves taking care of not only Remus, but Teddy, too. He’s learned that he’s been flirting with Remus for ages and never realized. He’s learned that he’s a bloody coward who’d rather run an ‘experiment’ than actually just tell the man he’s loved for nearly a decade how he feels. 

The soft of a mumbled curse breaks him from his thoughts, and he looks down to see Remus rubbing his sleep filled eyes with fists covered by his sweater. He’s so damn cute it makes Sirius’s heart skip a beat. 

“Sorry I fell asleep,” Remus says, and then yawns. He shifts a bit, snuggling in closer to Sirius before lifting his head to look at him. As soon as he can see Sirius’s face, the smile falls from his face. “You’re crying.”

Sirius darts a hand to his face only to find that Remus is right. His cheeks are wet with tears that he hadn’t even known had fallen. He sniffles and laughs softly, wiping his face dry. “Sorry. I didn’t even notice.”

“Did…something happen?” Remus’s voice is so soft that Sirius almost doesn’t hear him, and yet it sounds so loud in the dead quiet of the sitting room. The movie credits have ended–Sirius has no idea when that even happened–leaving the whole flat feeling oppressively silent and unnaturally dark. 

Sirius chuckles again, shaking his head. He feels another tear prickle at the corner of his eye, and he blinks it away. “It’s nothing, I just…realised what an idiot I am.”

“Sirius,” Remus breathes, a gentle smile working its way onto his lips. He reaches a hand up to brush the hair out of his face–the little strands that have fallen out of his bun, the ones Remus loves–and Sirius shakes, realising once again just how close together they are. “I don’t know what happened, but you’re not an idiot.”

He snorts in response. He is an idiot. Or at least, he’s done something unbearably stupid. “I don’t know,” he sighs. His heart thumps, whether from anxiety or disbelief about what he’s about to say, he isn’t sure. But he admits it. He admits it because he’s tired of waiting around. Because he’s tired of wondering, of carrying the weight of unrequited love with him everywhere he goes. He finally admits, “It feels pretty idiotic to spend ten years pining instead of just telling the man I love how I feel about him.”

Remus’s eyes widen for a split second, before he takes control of his face, looking at Sirius with a gentleness that makes him want to cry again. “That does sound pretty stupid,” Remus teases. “It doesn’t make you stupid though, you know. You want to know what’s stupid?” 

“What?”

“Being so afraid to tell the man I love how I feel that I marry his cousin instead.”

Sirius freezes. Stupidly, his first thought is, Who is Tonks’ cousin? Even more stupidly, his second thought is, Remus hardly even knows Regulus. It isn’t until his third thought that everything clicks into place. Wait. I’m Tonks’ cousin.

“You…” he doesn’t even know what to say. How does he ask, Do you mean me? How does he put his heart on the line like that, no matter how obvious it seems?

He doesn’t even realize how long it’s taking him to respond until Remus tenses and pushes himself into a sitting position, off of Sirius’s lap and onto the cushion next to him. “Fuck, I–I’m sorry, I didn’t–I mean, did I get this all wrong?”

“No!” Sirius nearly shouts, his hands shooting out to grab onto Remus’s arms. “No, you haven’t gotten it wrong, I just–I thought. I didn’t think you’d–shit, Moony, I…Me? Really?”

“Yes, you, you idiot,” Remus huffs, his cheeks red and the corners of his lips pulling up gently. 

“I thought you said I wasn’t an idiot.”

“Yes, well, I changed my mind.” Remus is grinning fully now, and Sirius feels like he’s floating. Remus’s words are still sinking in, and when he tries to think of something to say, he ends up gaping like a fish. At least it makes Remus laugh. “Did I break your brain?”

“A bit, yeah,” Sirius laughs incredulously. “I, erm…” He takes a deep breath, letting his hands slide down Remus’s arms to take his hands in his own. “I love you, Moonpie. I–I’m in love with you. I have been since we were sixteen. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner, I just…I was so afraid you would hate me or something–”

“Hey, none of that.” Sirius’s eyes flutter closed when Remus leans forward to press a tender kiss on his forehead. “If you had told me sooner, I might not have Teddy. I don’t regret anything. I don’t want you to, either. Okay?”

Yes, Sirius can’t help but agree. It’s hard to have regrets when he imagines the possibility of baby Teddy not being around. He bites his lip in an unsuccessful attempt to hide a smile. “Okay.”

“Can I be honest about something?”

“Oh…yeah, of course.” Sirius’s gut flips, until Remus chuckles nervously. It’s a laugh he’s heard about a thousand times, and not once has it preceded bad news. 

Remus clears his throat. “This was meant to be a date. I was–I was trying to ask you on a date. But I’m…starting to think that wasn’t clear.”

For a moment, all Sirius can do is stare in disbelief. And then he bursts into laughter. “No!” he exclaimed, between laughter and attempts to catch his breath. “No, it wasn’t clear, Moony. We have movie nights all the time! How was I meant to know?”

“Well…” Remus starts, holding back his own laughter. “You’d been…flirty lately. So I spent the whole day at the aquarium flirting with you, and I thought–but I was wrong, clearly.”

“You weren’t wrong. I have been flirty, lately, though in retrospect, I think I’ve been flirting with you for years . I have to be honest, though. I had no idea you were flirting.”

“What–how? I felt like I was being so obvious.”

“I mean, you were touchier, I guess, but otherwise you weren’t acting any different.”

“Maybe…maybe I’ve been flirting with you for years, too.”

“Well,” Sirius squeezes Remus’s hands before dropping them, moving his own to cradle Remus’s face. “It seems like we’ve both been idiots, then.”

“It does seem that way,” he teases, his hands landing on Sirius’s waist. 

Remus’s smile, the brightness in his hazel eyes, the softness of his face–he’s just so sweet , and Sirius wants badly to take a bite. “Can I kiss you?” Sirius asks.

“Please,” Remus whispers. 

The moment Sirius’s lips touch Remus’s, his entire life implodes. Fifteen years of friendship, late nights, stupid fights, drunken shenanigans, miscommunications, laughter, tears, joy, anger, boyfriends, girlfriends, marriage, divorce, a baby, university, graduations, jobs, pain, care, love, and everything in between culminate into…this. Him and Remus, together at last. Like the past fifteen years have been leading to them . Like they are two halves of one whole. There is never one without the other. There will never again be one without the other. Remus and Sirius do not exist, not now. Now they are RemusandSirius. They are everything. 

Kissing Remus is explosive. And yet, it’s delicate. Gentle. Slow. Neither moves to deepen it, and that makes it all the better. It’s their first kiss–the one they should’ve had at 16, when they fell in love; at 18, when they graduated secondary school; at 21, when Remus moved out of their shared flat to live with Tonks instead; at 23, when Teddy was born; at 24, when Remus and Tonks announced their separation. 

Or maybe now, at 26, when the stars are aligned just right, when time has made them more intelligent, more emotionally mature, when they’ve spent more of their friendship loving each other than not. Maybe now, when their love for each other outweighs their fear of losing each other. 

Yes, now is good.

5. Physical Touch: The Results

James is a fucking idiot. It’s a goddamn miracle that he’s married. Lord knows what Lily sees in him. Rude! Fuck off, Prongs. 

James is an idiot, and Peter is a genius. Honestly, he deserves a raise or something, I don’t know. He told me I should just tell Remus how I feel Been telling you that for a decade, fuckface. and he was right! I should listen to Peter more often. BEEN TELLING YOU THAT SINCE THE MOMENT WE MET, AND YET

Anyway, Moony found out about our little ‘experiment.’ Haven’t seen him laugh quite that hard in ages. Apparently, love languages aren’t supported by science. Apparently Gary Chapman isn’t even a psychologist. Who knew? Me! I knew!

Whatever, Pete. It all worked out in the end. So…I guess technically, that means James’s plan DID work!! Prongs, you’re a genius, mate!

You’re both idiots. Hope this helps. Obviously that’s not helpful, Wormtail. 

Moony, if you ever read this journal, I want you to know, I don’t care how stupid James and I are or how ridiculous this ‘experiment’ was (fuck, I hope you never find out about some of the other plans we made– those were stupid). It got me to you. I love you in every language, darling. 

Status: Success