Chapter Text
YORKSHIRE, JULY 1998
It’s a nice day for a proposal. There’s a spattering of clouds, sure (when isn’t there), but it’s not raining. There’s a hint of bird song in the garden. And, most importantly of all: there’s no war.
There’s no more war, and they’re still here. What better reason for a proposal could there be?
There’s no more war, but they’re still in mourning – that’s why he’s decided a simple proposal will do. A proposal for a wedding that honours their losses, while celebrating the future.
A proposal that celebrates them, and their relationship.
And what could possibly exemplify that better than a happy memory of pancakes?
LONDON, FEBRUARY 1979
It was the first Pancake Day they spent in their shared flat.
Shared out of necessity, at that point. After Hogwarts, Remus hadn’t had anywhere else to go, unless he wanted to crowd James and Lily out of their first love-nest (he emphatically did not want that) or move back in with his parents (he did not want that either – since he’d actively joined a resistance movement, he wanted to do all he could to avoid bringing further danger to their doorstep). So of course Sirius had offered for Remus to simply move into the flat he’d already bought the year before. Vaguely shrugging it had two bedrooms anyway; already far more privacy than he was used to getting in their dorm – ‘at least I won’t have to share a room with your smelly socks anymore.’
Yes, of course Sirius had offered. He was always generous (and funny and clever and secretly sweet and very obviously so handsome it was unfair and -), always willing to lend a hand; always, above all, loyal without making a fuss.
And Remus, skint and painfully smitten. Remus, who’d been internally devastated at the idea of not having Sirius around all the time anymore after school. Remus, for who the thought of being around him while not being with him was still far less painful than the thought of not being around him at all. Well, of course Remus had agreed.
He’d offered vaguely to contribute to groceries – had insisted on doing that, when Sirius said it didn’t matter – which mainly meant that he was now responsible for buying the baked beans while Sirius bought that delicious cheese imported from France - Beaufort.
But not on Pancake Day.
They’d chatted about it the night before – about having pancakes, and Sirius had just kind of shrugged. Of course the Blacks had been far too posh and pureblood to ever participate in anything as blasé as Pancake Day, but he’d also never much been for it at Hogwarts.
‘I just don’t have much of a sweet tooth, Moony, so don’t go out of your way on my account. If you want pancakes we should definitely make some, though.’
‘But Pancake Day is fun,’ Remus had protested. ‘It’s the one day of the year where you’re allowed to throw however many sweets, chocolate sauce and other daft toppings onto your food.’
‘Do I need to explain to you again what a sweet tooth is?’ Sirius softly poked him in the stomach, predictably resulting in a confusing, horrifying and terribly embarrassing flood of butterflies flying and fluttering to every corner of his body.
Merlin’s sake. He really, really needed to get a handle on this thing.
The next day, as Sirius was off doing work for the Order, Remus went out and bought all the key ingredients: the eggs, the milk, the flour. Lemons and sugar, of course. He couldn’t afford other sweets or syrups at the moment – he’d already spent far too much money on a surprise ingredient for Sirius.
A couple of hours later, and things weren’t going very well. He’d tried to make pancakes the muggle way, as his mother always did. Turned out… well, the things was – she’d made it look so easy. She’d whisk and chat, divide the batter over three different pans, flip them one-handedly and chat, squeeze lemons and chat and laugh while Remus picked at his loose front tooth and tried to pick off some Smarties while she wasn’t looking.
That wasn’t exactly representative of the present scenario.
The fact of the matter was that he’d not successfully managed to flip a single pancake so far. There were bits of pancake on the floor, bits burned to the pans, bits burned onto the stove itself; hell, he was pretty sure he’d find bits of pancake in his hair later. There was spilled dried batter on the countertops, and the smoke alarm had gone off on no less than four separate occasions, until he’d finally hexed it silent (in direct violation of magical decree 12.048.192)
But never mind all that – despite the smoke, and the mess, and the real or imagined bits of pancake probably stuck to the back of his head, he’d produced three stacks of pancakes (or pancake bits, if one were being pedantic about how, exactly, the pancakes presented themselves) and he had a little bit of time yet to try and return the kitchen into a semi-decent state before Sirius came home. Not enough time to also ensure he, himself, looked presentable, but – it was either him or the kitchen, and he had a feeling that Sirius would mock a kitchen half-burned down more than he’d laugh at Remus for having some batter smeared on his cheek. He’d seen the worst of him already, anyway, given he was still around for his monthly transformations.
Sirius was soaking wet when he came back (surprising, given that it wasn’t raining for once), and extremely grumpy (less surprising, given the circumstances). He left a trail of drops and puddles in his wake as he stomped his way into the kitchen.
‘Sirius!’ Remus’ eyes shot up from the counter he was still scrubbing. ‘What happened? Are you okay?’
‘He cursed me backwards into the bloody Thames, is what,’ Sirius said grumpily.
‘Who did??? Did you get attacked? Was it -? Is everyone – is everyone okay?’
‘Everyone’s fine,’ Sirius grumbled. ‘It wasn’t – them. Just bloody Prongs overdoing it when we were practicing our duelling… anyway, I’ll go take a quick shower before dinner, yeah?’ As he was turning to leave, he suddenly halted, finally looking at Remus properly. ‘Mate, what’s going on with your hair?’
‘What? Nothing – I -’ Remus quickly reached up to make sure; to his horror, he could feel some of his hair was matted together with what he could only assume was more pancake batter that had ended up in the wrong place.
‘You look like you could use a shower too.’
‘I probably could,’ Remus agreed with a shaky laugh. ‘Shame we only have one, eh? You go clean up and we’ll have some dinner first.’
‘Oh right,’ Sirius smiled politely. ‘Pancakes! Alright, see you in a mo.’
While Sirius was gone, Remus awkwardly leaned over the kitchen sink as he tried to rinse his fringe back into something resembling a presentable state. It was killer on his back, and probably didn’t help very much. Arguably, it had actually made things worse, since he now had dripping wet hair and a wet stain right in the middle of his shirt. He was just about to leave the kitchen to go change when Sirius returned, looking clean, a whole lot happier, and so devastatingly beautiful with his wet hair pulled back that Remus stopped in his tracks, swallowed hard and forgot what he’d been about to do.
‘Pancake time?’ Sirius suggested, mildly amused as his eyes flicked to Remus’ wet fringe.
‘Pancake time,’ Remus sighed, turning to take the pancakes from the countertop, quickly using the back of his hand to check that he’d at least used the heating spell correctly and they were still warm (they were, thank Merlin). As he went to put these on the table, he started: ‘so these are -’
‘Really, though,’ Sirius interrupted. ‘What happened to you? You look like you’re the one who’s just gone out to war. Did the pancakes fight back?
‘Turns out making them isn’t as easy as mum made it seem,’ Remus said softly, hoping he wasn’t blushing.
Sirius’ expression softened a bit. ‘Aww. Well, thanks very much for making us dinner. Pass me the chocolate syrup and the fudge pieces, please?’
‘I, uhm – I didn’t buy any of that,’ Remus said, feeling a little awkward suddenly. ‘There’s lemon and sugar though. But, uhm. Also. I made you this stack. I just – I thought you might like them.’
‘Ooh, alright,’ Sirius sounded a bit confused as he took the plate of scrambled pancake pieces from Remus, ‘am I not supposed to put any sugar on these, then?’
‘I mean…’ Remus smiled. ‘Try them first. I know they don’t look like very much, but -’
The Beaufort cheese had blended into the pancakes so well it was pretty much invisible, and Remus tried not to watch Sirius’ face too anxiously as he took his first bite. He probably didn’t do a very good job of it, because he saw every emotion that crossed Sirius’ face: vague confusion, pleasant surprise, even a touch of delight. Then, a fourth one he wasn’t quite able to place.
‘You made me savoury pancakes?’ Sirius’ smile was wide and genuine now – one of his best smiles. ‘Moony – you shouldn’t have.’
‘Well, you’re not a sweet-tooth, so -’ Remus started, making a feeble attempt to shrug and feeling more awkward by the moment. ‘I just wanted you to have a nice Pancake Day too.’
‘It’s even nicer now,’ Sirius nodded, taking another bite. ‘Wait -’
He looked back over at Remus, his expression some cursed mix of curious and shocked and soft. It was terrifying – it made Remus wonder if he had time to run away and hide before Sirius could finish that sentence. Maybe – maybe he could quickly apparate out west, move in with Prongs and Lily after all – he’d had a good run here, and –
‘- is this Beaufort?’
He was definitely blushing now. He nodded quickly, then tried to hide his face into his glass of water (a very obvious mistake; he of course immediately choked on it).
‘But Moony.’ Sirius put his fork down. ‘That’s so expensive.’
Remus coughed loudly for about a minute – it was seemingly the only sound he was able to produce at the moment – while Sirius looked increasingly concerned. Finally, he managed to make a movement vaguely resembling a shrug – in what he could only assume looked like the opposite of nonchalance.
‘Yeah, but... you don’t have a sweet-tooth.’
(Wasn’t it obvious that he’d just wanted to make a Pancake Day that was fun for everyone involved? Why was Sirius trying to make a big deal out of it?)
‘Moony.’ The smile on Sirius’ face was horrifyingly disarming now. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘I -’ Remus started to protest. ‘I – you know, I do have some money – I mean, I still have some savings from when I worked at that restaurant, and -’
‘Of course. That’s why last Saturday you refused to go out for a coffee because you, and I quote, “didn’t have a quid for a coffee”.’
‘Well, we had coffee at home.’
‘We have cheddar at home.’
‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ Remus finally said, starting to wish he could put on James’ cloak and disappear.
Sirius’ head was slightly tilted, his eyes running over Remus’ face in a way that was a tad – who was he kidding, massively – unsettling.
‘You like – that cheese, and so I bought you some, to make sure you’d like the pancakes,’ Remus continued a bit breathlessly. ‘That’s all.’
‘I do like that cheese,’ Sirius agreed.
Well, alright then. So that was settled? They didn’t need to talk about it anymore? It was just a bit of cheese between friends?
But then, Sirius unexpectedly continued. ‘I like that cheese. And lately, I’ve been wondering if…’ he cocked his head a bit, his grey eyes studying Remus’ face. ‘…if I also may like you.’
What was he -?
Surely he wasn’t -?
‘I should hope so.’ Remus looked down pointedly at his own plate of pancake bits, ‘seeing how we’ve been friends for over eight years.’
‘That’s not what I mean.’
Fuck.
The blush had reached his ears now, he was sure of it. He was incapable of looking back up, or of speaking, or of moving at all, really, apparently. So he just sat there, still and quiet, until it was Sirius who finally had to break the silence again.
‘I’m sorry.’ His tone had changed completely. ‘I didn’t mean to – shit. I just thought… the cheese thing, it’s so… thoughtful, and there was that thing the other day when you were putting that blanket on me after I’d fallen asleep, and – but listen, hey. Please don’t get all weird about this. Okay? It’s – it’s no big deal. It’ll pass.’
Remus felt things slipping through his fingers before he’d even properly registered he could grab them. And yet, he still couldn’t move. It was just – a lot – to comprehend.
‘You’re already planning how you’ll move out, aren’t you?’ Sirius finally added, deflated.
Do something, Remus urged himself.
And suddenly, before his head had really had any say in it at all, his limbs were all movement. Suddenly, he was moving across the table in the most awkward of ways, half-shoving it aside in his haste, grabbing Sirius’ head by the chin and pulling him into a kiss.
Sirius’ hand moved into his hair right away, his arm curled around his shoulders to pull him closer, and his lips – oh, his lips; they were just as soft and warm and delicious as he’d always imagined them – no, more so. Frankly impossibly more so.
It was perfect. It may have tasted vaguely of cheese… but it was perfect nonetheless.
‘Sirius,’ he’d breathed when they finally stopped to catch their breath. ‘I think I like you too.’
YORKSHIRE, JULY 1998
And that had been that, really – they’d been together ever since (apart from one particular and quite unfortunate thirteen-year stint that nobody really need bring up ever again).
That’s why he’s decided recreating Pancake Day is the perfect way to propose. And with Sirius off with Harry today, he has plenty of time to prepare. First of all, he’d gone out to make sure he has all the ingredients: eggs, flour, milk, yes, lemon and sugar, of course, but most importantly: the Beaufort. He went to a French speciality shop this time, asking the poor shopkeeper endless questions to make sure he got the absolute best one.
While he’s not generally opposed to using some magic in his cooking, he’s decided he’s going to prepare them the muggle way again. Not just to recreate the moment. Not just because he thinks it puts more love and soul into the process. But also because he has a distinct feeling that a vigorous batter-whisking will help calm some of the nerves and butterflies assaulting him whenever he considers what he’s planning to do this evening.
He hasn’t, really, given much thought to the details yet – will he get down on one knee? Will he give a speech? Or will he, most likely, awkwardly blurt the question out, jump across the table again, then cry?
All he knows, really, is that it’s stupid that they’re not married yet. When there’s nothing in the world he wants more than to be able to call Sirius his husband. Just the thought of it makes his stomach flutter again.
He may even do a tad better at making presentable pancakes this time, he thinks happily, tying an apron around his waist. He has gotten a lot better at flipping pancakes since then: he’s realised the trick is waiting until the top of the batter is all the way set, as well as making sure there’s plenty of butter in the pan before the batter goes in, so none of it gets stuck and –
Shit.
Oh shit.
He’s forgotten to buy butter.