Chapter Text
Bzzt.
Remus pawed at his bedside table until his fingers wrapped around his phone.
09:52 a.m.
Your Spooner is arriving in 8 minutes!
“Fucking– shit!”
He was not supposed to fall asleep! He’d let himself lay down for five minutes, then he was going to switch the laundry to the dryer, shower, shave– he was supposed to have half an hour to get ready before the Spooner arrived! But last night’s lessons were particularly exhausting and he was just so tired. Well, not anymore. Now he had adrenaline coursing through his veins and felt wired as hell. He could cancel, but now he was going to need this cuddle session in order to fall asleep again and get a solid eight hours. So, it was a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, in a way.
Was that the right term?
Focus, focus! Seven minutes left!
Remus gathered up the pajama bottoms and joggers and discarded socks that he’d dropped haphazardly around the floor over the last couple of days and put them in the– fuck, the laundry bag was in the wash with the towels! He shoved it all under the bed.
Every surface in his room was a mess of old mugs, used tissues, pens, and random sticky note reminders. He picked up a couple of the mugs– no, there was no time! He stuffed his hands with tissues and threw them away in the bathroom.
He cranked the tap in the shower all the way to “Hot” in the hopes it would speed up the warming process, then shed his clothes and jumped in while it was still cold. No time to wait!
To wash his hair or not to wash his hair? He could use a shampoo, but then he’d have wet hair in bed and no one wanted that. Not to wash, then– ow, fuck! Too hot! He was clean enough, anyway!
He turned off the water and stepped out carefully. Rubbed his towel vigorously over his body. Checked his phone. Four minutes! He could do that!
He slathered a palmful of shaving cream over his jaw and upper lip and ran his disposable razor over it in short, quick strokes.
Oh god, oh god. People shaving too fast was one of Remus’s biggest icks and he could barely look at himself while he did it. Why had he chosen to do this?! He could have just left the stubble and let himself catch his breath for three minutes!
Shkk!
…
Ouch. He’d cut himself. Of course he’d fucking cut himself. He quickly (slightly less quickly) finished up and rinsed off the leftover cream (ow, ow, ow, it stung!) before ripping off a tiny bit of toilet roll to stick on the cut.
Two minutes. Okay.
He swished around a chug of mouthwash while pulling on a clean (but wrinkly, no time to iron) pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a heather grey t-shirt with Bulbasaur on it.
It’s not that he wanted to impress the Spooner (not with the Pokemon shirt, with the mouthwash and shower and everything); he wasn’t trying to woo anyone (that would be horribly unprofessional and against the app’s strict sexual harassment policy!). It was just common courtesy to have a clean home and body when a stranger was going to come over and hold you in your bed for an hour. And yes, alright, he wanted to be every Spooner’s favorite client. He imagined they had a Discord server or a subreddit to swap stories, and they all fawned over the lanky fellow who was quiet and polite and sometimes funny and very very good at being cuddled.
Remus thanked his yesterday-self for changing the sheets, at least.
Seven minutes had passed since the notification said eight minutes. Everything seemed good enough. Phew.
Bzzt.
That would be the “Your Spooner has arrived” notification. Remus reached for his phone–
BBZZZZ!!
And that was the buzzer for his building’s exterior door. His Spooner had certainly arrived. Remus pressed the button on his intercom to let them up.
He hadn’t put on socks! Common courtesy to wear socks. Remus thought he had rather nice feet, but he wasn’t going to make anyone look at them or be near them without their consent.
Just as he pulled on the second beige argyle sock, there was a knock at the door.
“Sorry,” he said as he swung it open, though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. It had taken him all of two seconds to get to the door after the knock.
But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t have finished the thought if he’d wanted to. Because standing at the door to his flat looking expectant and a little sheepish himself was Sirius fucking Black.
One of the most charming, handsome, popular boys in secondary school, the subject of almost all of Remus's schoolboy fantasies, who Remus had spoken to maybe once or twice and then hadn’t seen at all in the five years since graduation and had all but moved on from. Until now.
And, god, he looked good. He'd grown a short beard, and his signature shoulder-length waves were pulled into a low bun that just about made Remus’s head explode. His arms had gotten thicker and were now covered in swirling black tattoos. It was nothing short of unfair how sexy he looked in a simple black t-shirt and joggers.
No, not “sexy,” don’t think the word “sexy.” Be normal. Be polite. Say something.
“Sirius?” His voice squeaked weirdly so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Sirius, h-hi. Are you… my Spoon…er?” He said it slowly as if that would make it less embarrassing if the answer was no.
Sirius gave him a slightly worried look. “You seem surprised to see me.”
“The app didn’t say–”
Remus pulled out his phone.
Your Spooner, Sirius B., is now arriving!
Well, that wouldn’t have been very helpful even if he had seen it. He pulled down the past notifications.
Your Spooner is arriving in 8 minutes!
Your Spooner’s name is Sirius B. and they are on their way!
That one had come in around the time Remus fell asleep.
“Fuck.”
“Shit.” Sirius looked as uncomfortable as Remus felt. “I can go. See if I can process a refund–”
“No!” Remus said, shaking his head. Mostly it was an automatic reaction to anyone volunteering to inconvenience themselves on his behalf, but also, Spooners were not nearly as ten-a-penny as Uber drivers or food deliverers. If he did let Sirius leave, it could take an hour or more to get someone else to come out, and he really needed to get some sleep. There was a chance cuddling with the biggest crush of his life would only make him more wired, but Sirius was a professional. Maybe it would be fine. Hopefully it would be fine. “You came all this way.”
Remus stepped aside and let Sirius enter his flat, closing the door behind him.
“It’s, er, nice to see you,” Sirius said like it was a question.
“Yeah, you too!”
“You look good,” Sirius said with much more certainty, and his eyes sort of went up and down over Remus, which made it feel genuine, which made Remus genuinely smile.
A tiny bit of something red and white entered Remus’s peripherals and he and Sirius both watched it float down to the floor.
“Oh, god!” Remus smacked his hand to his face. Ouch. “Sorry,” he winced. “Cut myself shaving.”
“Yeah, figured,” Sirius said with a little smirk that Remus was too busy being mortified to enjoy.
“Shall we get started, then?”
“Right, sure.”
Remus pocketed the bit of toilet roll before leading Sirius down the little hallway to his bedroom.
He was feeling incredibly inadequate about it now that his Spooner was Sirius Black. There was nothing on the walls at all, no family photos or cool art (he did have those things, they were just in the living room where he had his desk and computer and spent most of his time). The mugs and notes were chaotic. The sheets were clean, sure, but they were all rumpled and twisted up with the duvet so they didn’t look clean.
“The sheets are clean,” he said, closing the dresser drawer that he’d left open.
“Great, yeah.” Sirius slipped off his boots and sat on the bed, scooting to the side that touched the wall, reminding Remus he really needed to rearrange things to make the bed more accessible for two people. That was probably the one thing holding him back from being the universal favorite Spoonee. “I’m supposed to remind you to accept the latest Terms of Use before we start. You should have gotten an email.”
“Oh, sorry about that.” Remus pulled out his phone and navigated as quickly as he could through his email to find the one he’d definitely ignored from Spooner. “Got it.”
“You have to click the link and scroll through it and everything. Sorry.”
Remus didn’t know why Sirius should be sorry, when he was the one who had shirked his responsibility as a Spoonee.
Sexual Harassment Policy… Refund Policy… Sale of Personal Data to Third Parties…
Remus clicked the blue “Accept” button at the bottom of the page.
“All set.” He perched at the edge of the bed but when he started to set his phone on the table it reminded him– “Oh! Er, is it alright if I put on music? I usually… I usually put on music.”
“Yeah, ‘course.”
Remus got up again and turned on the little Bluetooth speaker that sat on the dresser, scrolling through his “Cuddling and Sleepy Vibes” playlists.
Pokemon Piano Lullabies. Too nerdy.
Lo-fi Beats to Relax/Study to. Too sensual.
~*Sad Joni Mitchell Vibes*~ Would probably make him cry about his mum.
Ah, Laura Marling. Perfect. Relaxing, lyrics that were too poetic to be distracting, and indie enough to not be mocked.
Since he was up, he remembered to plug in the white fairy lights that draped over his bed.
“Is it okay if I turn the main light off?” he asked.
“Sure, yeah! Whatever you like.”
Remus clicked the switch and the room darkened to a dusky gold, lit only by the fairy lights and the thin stripes of daylight that peeked between the blinds on his one small window.
Sirius propped his own phone up on the window ledge, leaning it against the blinds. The Spooner app timer started its sixty-minute countdown.
“Your profile said you prefer to be the little spoon, and on the right side of the bed, right?” Sirius asked as he laid himself down on the left side of the bed, facing Remus, who was still standing awkwardly in the center of the room, short-circuiting at the sight of Sirius Black lying in his bed.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
Deep breaths. Sirius was being professional. Everything was going to be fine.
Remus sat on the edge of the bed and swung his legs up. A hand rested just below his waist. Sirius Black’s hand.
“Is that–” Sirius cleared his throat. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah! Yeah, no, that’s– that’s fine.”
Remus was lying on his side at the very edge of the mattress, as far from Sirius as was humanly possible without flopping onto the floor. It was very much not fine, but it was terrifying enough to have Sirius’s hand on him, there was no way he was getting any closer.
Laura Marling’s low, soft voice slid into the silence like molasses, but it wasn’t enough to soothe Remus’s trembling heart. When the Spooner was a complete stranger, it was easy to pretend they were anyone, or no one. But when the hand planted stiffly on Remus’s hip flab belonged to Sirius Black, there was no pretending. They had a history. A rather fraught one.
“You still friends with James?” Remus asked. Awkward small talk might be better than awkward silence.
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Still best mates.”
“Good, good.”
Sirius’s hand felt a little heavier on Remus’s side, like he’d relaxed it a bit. Remus didn’t usually talk with his Spooners once the session had begun, but there was nothing usual about this situation.
“How’s he doing?”
“James? He’s good, yeah. He’s a physiotherapist.”
“Oh, wow, good for him! Putting all that athleticism to good use. That’s nice.”
“Yeah.” Sirius’s hand relaxed more, and his thumb stroked downward just once. Absent-mindedly, Remus assumed.
“I could probably do with some advice from a physiotherapist.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I sit down a lot. Desk job.”
“Are you a writer?”
“What?” Remus’s heart rate had apparently slowed while they were talking, because it picked up again. “No.”
“Oh, I just thought since–”
Oh, god. Was he going to talk about it?
Sirius cleared his throat again. “I could talk to James for you, if you like? Get you an appointment?”
Thank fuck.
“No, that’s okay. Thanks, though.”
As much as Remus could use a good stretch, he’d definitely reached his quota for looking pathetic in front of the most popular boys in school.
Lying on the edge of the mattress was actually very difficult. Remus’s left arm was all pins-and-needles, and his non-existent abs were cramping up from trying to balance. If he was going to make it the remaining fifty-plus minutes, he’d have to adjust.
Sirius must have sensed his discomfort. “You sure you’re comfortable like that?”
Remus sighed. He’d made Sirius stay, he might as well try to relax. “Would it be alright if I turn around?”
“Yeah, whatever you like!”
Sirius lifted his hand enough for Remus to rotate himself, resting it back on his hip once he’d gotten settled, knees comfortably bent and hands tucked securely under his pillow.
Remus couldn’t decide if the change was a massive mistake, or the best thing he’d ever done in his life. Because the sight in front of him was devastating.
Sirius’s silhouette sank into the mattress, sloping down from broad shoulders to narrow waist and then up again at his hips. His smooth skin and silky hair were luminous in the low glow of the fairy lights. Remus had forgotten how strikingly light his blue eyes were, though there wasn’t much blue showing since his pupils had dilated to compensate for the darkness of the room. Remus would have lost the plot entirely if it weren’t for how nervous Sirius looked.
“That better?”
Remus nodded against his pillow.
Sirius licked his lips a little bit and took a quick breath like he wanted to say something. But Spooners were supposed to follow the client’s lead. No talking unless the Spoonee wanted to talk. Certainly no asking questions. But again, there was nothing normal about the situation.
“Yeah?” Remus asked.
“Erm… I just wanted to ask…” Sirius’s piercing eyes searched Remus’s face, and Remus waited. Anticipated. “How are you doing?”
In an instant, Remus’s heart went from his throat to the floor. It was an innocent enough question in any other context, but here, the way Sirius asked it, it was like he’d turned the light back on and the reality that Remus had happily ignored in the shadows of the fairy lights was now glaringly obvious.
Remus hadn’t known it would be Sirius showing up at his door, but Sirius had known it would be Remus answering. He wanted to know how Remus was doing. The lonely loser from school popped up on the app for lonely losers, let’s see how shitty his life is.
Remus buried his face in his pillow.
“Sorry, should I not have asked?”
“I'm not a loser,” Remus mumbled into the pillow.
“What?”
He turned enough to free his mouth.
“I have a very full social life.” That was true, it was just entirely online with people in vastly different time zones. “I work nights. It makes it hard to connect with people in person.”
Sirius's hand squeezed a little. “Remus, do you think I'm judging you for being a Spoonee?”
“I think you're judging me for a lot of things.”
“Well, I'm not.”
Remus fully unburied his face to find Sirius had propped himself up on his elbow and was giving Remus a look of complete earnestness. It made him want to scoot closer and let himself be enveloped in Sirius's muscular arms.
“The only difference between what you're doing and what I'm doing,” Sirius continued, “is that I'm the one getting paid.”
Sirius’s lips turned up a little when he said that, and Remus remembered what made him so irresistible. It wasn't his hair or his eyes or even his incredible physique. It was his smile. The wide grin with those perfectly straight teeth that always meant trouble was on its way. And how you could hear his laugh from across the dining hall or the other end of a crowded corridor. It cut through everything and lit up the world. This was just a little smirk, but Remus still melted a bit.
“Why are you here?” Remus asked. “I’m fairly sure I’m the only ‘Remus L.’ in a fifty-mile radius. When you saw the request, you knew it was me. You could’ve ignored it, could’ve let someone else take it. Why didn’t you?”
“I wanted to see you.”
That didn't explain anything, so Remus just waited. Watched Sirius swallow.
“I wanted to… apologize.”
Remus buried his face in the pillow again.
So they were going to talk about it.
The poem.
The love poem that Remus wrote for Sirius that Peter fucking Pettigrew found when he borrowed Remus's class notes and promptly shared with everyone, outing Remus to the entire school. Because the quiet, nerdy kid in secondhand jumpers needed more working against him.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Remus sighed into the pillow.
“I should have done something. Stood up for you or told Peter off, or something.” Sirius must have been gesturing while he spoke because his hand kept leaving Remus's side and coming back. “I'm not friends with him anymore, for what it's worth. James isn’t either. He never grew out of being a dick.”
“It's not your fault,” Remus said, revealing his stupid loser face once again. “If anything, I owe you an apology for victimizing you with my horrendous sixteen-year-old thoughts. You weren't supposed to see it. No one was supposed to see it.”
“It wasn't horrendous,” Sirius said, flashing that devilish grin again. “I thought it was good, actually.”
“Now you're taking the piss.”
“No, I mean it!” Sirius laughed. “I know I wasn't supposed to see it, but I'm glad I did.”
“Why? It wasn't good, I know that! It was terrible and embarrassing and… inappropriate!”
Sirius's grin got even more devil-y. “It was quite erotic, wasn't it?”
“Oh, god.”
“I think you wanted to fuck my mouth.”
“Jesus Christ, Sirius! I don't think I even knew what that meant when I was sixteen!”
“Lips like the plush pink petals of a rose…”
“Are you trying to retraumatize me?!”
Sirius cackled, dropping his head onto his pillow.
“How do you even remember that?” Remus groaned. “I think I blocked it out.”
Sirius pursed his pink petal lips. “Let's just say… it had a not-insignificant role in helping me… figure some things out about myself.”
That had Remus's attention.
“What?”
Sirius's only answer was to smile and bite his lower lip.
“Are you trying to tell me my poem made you gay?”
“It didn't make me gay,” Sirius said with an amiable eye roll. “Just… lifted the curtain on some confusing feelings I had about certain classmates and teachers of the male persuasion.”
That really had Remus's attention. All throughout school, wherever Sirius and James went, pretty girls followed. And vice versa. Remus had cried into his mum's shoulder about it more than once.
“Like who?”
Sirius scooted closer, draping his arm over Remus's back and giving him a conspiratorial look as if he were about to share a secret he didn't want the rest of the empty flat to hear.
“You know Mr. Binns?”
“Mr. Binns?!” Remus practically shouted back. “He was ancient! He lived through most of the history he taught!”
“He wasn't that old.”
“I was in that class with you. You slept through it half the time!”
“Yeah,” Sirius said wistfully. “He had that deep, droning voice and those cozy sleeveless jumpers. The best.”
“If it's jumpers that do it for you, you'd have a field day in my wardrobe.”
“Oh yeah?” Sirius smirked and Remus immediately felt his face heat up. What had he just said?! Had he just flirted with Sirius Black?!
“Just mean I've got a lot of jumpers.”
“Of the sleeveless variety?” Sirius did a little eyebrow wiggle and Remus couldn't stop his lips from quirking up in response.
“Maybe one or two.”
Sirius's smirk grew into a grin and another lip-bite and Remus’s heart started to race.
“Well,” he said, taking a deep breath to compose himself, “I'm glad my trauma did some good, I guess.”
Sirius's grin softened. “Yeah.”
They fell quiet, faces now mere inches apart. This time when Laura Marling cut in, her ethereal percussion and low, loungey vocals felt like a relief.
In the stillness, Remus realized he was once again uncomfortable. He didn't normally lay on his right side, his hips were sore from stacking his knees one on top of the other, and he'd gotten all hot from the flirting incident.
“Is it alright if I turn around again?”
“Yeah, ‘course!”
Remus rolled over and let himself settle into his most comfortable position: left leg straight, right leg bent (even though that made his arse stick up in the air a bit); right arm crossed over his chest and hand tucked under his head, left arm pulled into his stomach. He felt his body finally relax.
Sirius slotted into place behind him and, wow, if there were a Discord or a subreddit for Spoonees, they’d all be fawning over the fit bloke with long black hair and tattoos who was handsome and considerate and very, very good at cuddling.
Sirius tucked his left arm under the pillow while his right hand rested comfortably over Remus's ribs, and he wasn't afraid to press his body against Remus's back, legs fitting right into the bend of Remus's knees. His steady breath on the back of Remus's neck wasn't tickly or annoying; it was warm and soothing.
“How did you get into this line of work?” Remus asked, and it came out much sleepier-sounding than he'd expected.
“Jamie learned about the app from a client,” said Sirius, also sounding comfortable. “I was looking for something with a flexible schedule, and it seemed like a good fit.”
“You like it, then? Professional cuddling?” Remus said it a bit tongue-in-cheek, physically unable to discuss the Spooner app without a touch of self-deprecation, but Sirius continued to be earnest.
“I do, yeah, it's been nice. I get to meet a lot of really sweet people. This one woman, Sue, bakes fresh biscuits every time I come over.”
Shit, Remus should have offered tea.
“She loves dogs but she's horribly allergic, so she's got hundreds of stuffed animals all over the house and has me come round once a week for a cuddle.”
“Does she… make you act like a dog?”
Sirius let out his bark of a surprised laugh, and Remus was so delighted to hear it, he didn't even mind how loud it was in his ear.
“No! Though I probably would if she asked. I just curl up in her arms and she strokes my hair a bit. The best days are when I fall asleep and she lets me stay past the hour.”
“You’re living the life, then, aren’t you?” Remus chuckled. “Wake up in the morning and go to sleep all day?”
“Yeah, well…” Sirius's arm shifted beneath the pillow as he adjusted his position, lifting his head and dropping it again. “I'll take a kip wherever I can get it. I don't really sleep well at night.” His fingers curled and uncurled against Remus's ribs. “I'm sort of… afraid of the dark?”
“What?!” Remus laughed.
“Don’t laugh!” Sirius laughed too, jostling Remus playfully. “I’ve got childhood trauma!”
“Oh,” Remus’s laugh petered out. “I’m sorry to hear that. That's not funny at all!” He felt Sirius shrug behind him.
Remus moved his hand to give Sirius a sympathetic pat on the arm, but he landed on Sirius's hand instead, strong and warm. Before he could pull away, Sirius hooked his thumb around Remus's thumb, so Remus curled his fingers around Sirius's hand and stayed like that.
“We can start a shitty club for traumatized youths,” said Sirius, voice low. Remus could feel the rumble of it against his back.
“I think they have that already,” said Remus, matching his volume. “It's called group therapy.”
“Ah, yes.” Sirius yawned. “Not a bad idea, that.”
Laura's voice lowered to a droning whisper, and the hum of deep strings beneath it had Remus's eyes falling closed.
“Remus?” Sirius whispered, and Remus felt it trickle down his spine.
“Hm?”
“I'm sorry.”
Remus ran his thumb across the back of Sirius's hand.
“It's okay. I'm okay.”
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁
Brrring-bring! Brrring-bring!
The mattress shifted and Remus's back felt cold and empty.
Brrring-bri–.
The hollow slap of plastic against wood.
Warm weight returned. Sirius wrapped his arm snugly around Remus's waist and nuzzled into the back of his neck.
Remus's thoughts felt like liquid, like a wave gently pushing in and pulling out across the sand. And what washed in was: He's holding me. Not just my body. Me.
Laura was still singing, but it was the last song on the album.
Should you choose
Should you choose
To love anyone anytime soon,
Then I saved these words for you.
You weren't my curse.
You weren't my curse.
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁
When Remus woke up, it was quiet.
The light in the room hadn't changed, so four minutes could have passed or four hours.
The only bit of Sirius he still felt was his foot, pressed up against Remus's calf.
He reached for his phone.
It was a little after five in the evening, as good a time as any to get up and start his day. His laundry had probably long been taken out of the washer and plopped on the counter to grow mildew. He'd have to run it again.
His stomach grumbled, but he was in no rush. Bed was always the most comfortable when he was supposed to be getting out of it.
He rolled over, but only had a split second to enjoy the way Sirius's soft lips squished together in the heaviness of sleep before he was blinking awake, pushing himself onto his back and rubbing his face in his hands.
“Time is it?”
“Quarter past five.”
“Oh, shit, I'm so sorry!” Sirius sat bolt upright and it snapped Remus out of his cozy stupor. “I should have asked–”
“No, god, I'm sorry, I completely monopolized your time, you could have been seeing other clients, or–”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Remus, trust me. That was the best sleep I've had in a while.”
“Me too.”
That seemed to calm Sirius’s panic, and as he smiled at Remus, cheeks slightly puffy and hair falling every which way out of its bun, Remus remembered he had to get out of Sirius’s way.
“You’re, er–” He cleared the sleep out of his throat as he brought his feet to the floor and straightened his Bulbasaur shirt. “You’re very good at your job.”
“Oh, yeah, cheers. Be sure to leave a five star review! Ha.”
While Sirius worked on getting his boots back on, Remus busied himself gathering up all his old mugs. With three of them dangling from each hand, he walked Sirius to the door. Sirius paused before opening it.
“It was really nice to see you.” This time he sounded completely certain about it.
Remus was, too. “Yeah, you too.”
“Hey, erm, next time you need a cuddle, you could just send me a text, if you like. Y'know, skip the app?”
Remus’s heart skipped a few beats.
“I haven’t got your number.”
“Oh! Right! Er–” Sirius eyed the mugs, then pulled his own phone from his pocket. “Tell me yours and I’ll send you a text.”
So Remus told him his number, and Sirius sent a text. They exchanged a few more thank-yous and sorries and see-yous before Sirius closed the door behind him.
And Remus wondered if tomorrow would be too soon for next time.