Chapter Text
January
Remus' gaze flicked from his phone to that damned flier. He was meant to be sorting through boxes of donated books and shelving them, but he’d only managed to get through one box this afternoon. Instead, he’d been frantically texting Mary and waiting for her response when he wasn’t fiddling with the handbill from last night. The flimsy piece of paper had been folded and unfolded so many times now that it was beginning to rip at the seams his fingers had made. The band names were basically unreadable as it was now. It didn’t matter anyway, because he wasn’t going.
He stared down at his phone again, unable to resist the impulse. It was painful to read through his frantic string of messages.
Remus: ‘I’m not going, there’s no fucking way I’m going to this thing. I should stay in tonight anyway, I've nearly finished the book I’m reading, and I don’t want to fall behind on my reading goal.’
Remus: ‘He probably doesn’t even want me to go, I’m sure he wouldn’t care either way. I mean, his boss probably forces him to give those handbills out, ya know, to promote.’
Remus: ‘They were probably all laughing at me after I left, “Oi did you see that hipster cunt, with his book and his corduroy pants?” I mean, let's be real, I’ve never been cool.’
Remus: ‘OK, maybe I’ll go just for a little while.’
A heavy sigh left his lips as he typed out another message.
Remus: ‘Sorry, Mary, just ignore all of the above texts. I’m not going.’
Before he could even place his phone back down on the counter, he saw three bubbles appear that indicated Mary was typing.
Mary: ‘Bloody hell, Rem, I was in a meeting. Have you gone completely mad? I could feel my phone buzzing in my bag nonstop. I thought there was an emergency.’
‘Are you still on about that gig tonight?’
Remus: ‘YES IDK I think I’ve gone completely barmy, I don’t know what's wrong with me, Mary.’
Mary: ‘REMUS BREATHE. Relax, it’s just a show at a pub. Go. You obviously want to. If not, you wouldn’t be agonising over it so hard. Besides, you’re cool. I’ve always thought you were cool.’
Remus: ‘Okay, fine, but if it’s an utter disaster and I make a fucking cunt of myself, I’m blaming you.’
Mary: ‘That’s fine, I can live with that. I’ve got another meeting, BYE. I wanna hear all about it tomorrow.’
Dragging a hand across his face, Remus cursed under his breath. Shoving his phone out of reach, he did his best to return to his sorting. He still had a few hours left before he could close up the shop, plenty of time to come up with a really solid reason not to go out tonight.
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He’d come up totally empty on excuses to stay home tonight. Every single one just sounded like a total farce, even to him. And if he stayed home, he’d have to hear it from Mary and Marlene. It had been a grievous error on his part to tell them in the first place; he knew that they would urge him to go. They wanted more than anything for him to settle into his new life. For him to make some friends and build some semblance of community.
Maybe subconsciously, that is why he’d told them, because he needed that external push. Coward that he was, he’d probably never step foot in the Nocturne again, never even walk in its direction, never lay eyes on that onyx mop of hair on that boy who’d so easily turned his world upside down with nothing but a smirk.
So there he was at nine pm staring at his reflection in the mirror, wet hands in his hair, trying his damnedest to tousle it into that perfect balance of ‘I just rolled out of bed’, and like he’d made an effort. He threw on his faded Pixies tee that he’d had since what felt like time immemorial, some faded Levi’s which even he had to admit looked pretty hot on him, his trusty old chucks, and of course, his most comfy hoodie and brown leather jacket.
When he’d rolled up to the Nocturne, he pulled out his pack and lit up a cigarette, tucking himself beneath the narrow awning, lest the drizzle extinguish the freshly lit cherry. He had hoped to buy himself a few spare moments to shake his nervous jitters and get in the headspace to be around so many loud, drunk people, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar head of black hair pop out from the steel door, heading straight for him.
“Remus! You’re here! I hoped you’d show your face,” Sirius said, and Remus's stomach did a somersault. Had Sirius thought of him? He’d honestly–if the glee in his voice was anything to go by–wanted him to be here tonight. The words didn’t fully compute. Maybe he’d hit his head at some point, and this was all some sordid dream he was having in his concussed state.
When he’d spent too long without saying anything, probably staring owlishly at Sirius like an idiot, Sirius did the unthinkable.
“Mind if I hit your cig? I don’t have time to smoke a whole one, just on a quick break.” He didn’t wait for Remus’s answer, simply reached for the cigarette that had been actively in Remus’s mouth with two nimble fingers and brought it to his own lips.
Remus watched with his mouth agape as Sirius sucked in smoke, his lips wrapped around the filter that seconds ago had been between Remus’s lips. He felt a sudden ache low in his belly, and had never found himself so envious of a cigarette before. Then to make matters worse, Sirius met his eyes so boldly and grinned–fucking grinned–and asked, all coy, “You alright there, Remus?”
He knew! The bastard knew exactly what he was doing to him. This arsehole was taking the piss, toying with him. When he tried to speak, what came out could hardly be called words, more so a cough and a sputter, “Yeah, alright, mate. Keep the smoke,” as he turned and ambled towards the door.
He could hear Sirius’s sly laugh from behind him, “What, you don’t want my cooties?”
James was at the door again tonight, his eyes glinting with amusement; he’d obviously heard at least some of what had gone on outside.
“Oh, hey, Remus, you’re back. Is Pads fucking with you out there?” James asked.
“Pads?” Remus said, confused as he dug his wallet out of his pocket, procuring the fiver to pay James the cover.
“Padfoot.” When Remus still looked lost, James continued. “Sirius! I heard him giving you shit, just ignore him. He loves to get a rise out of people. Real dick that guy,” James said with fondness. Clearly, these two knew each other well, probably long before the Nocturne, if he had to guess. There was an undeniable familiarity there, akin to what he shared with Mary and Marlene. They seemed almost like brothers, besides the fact they looked nothing alike.
“He probably can tell I’m easy to get a rise out of. Got a sign on my forehead that says ‘take the piss out of me’, I guess,” he said, trying to sound more unruffled than he felt.
“Anyways, go get a drink from Lils and check out the bands. It’s a real shit show back there.”
Already, he could hear discordant guitars and feedback emanating from the stage area. “Lovely, thanks mate.”
He approached the bar with trepidation; he hadn’t spoken to Lily yet, but he was definitely intimidated by her. She was nearly a foot shorter than him, but she had a big presence. She may as well have been seven feet tall.
“Hey, I remember you, you’re that guy from yesterday. Good to see ya. Can I grab you a Pint?” She asked. She looked even cuter today, her hair long and loose, clad in ripped fishnets, a black mini-skirt, and a cropped Motorhead shirt. Lily was most definitely less animated than James or Sirius, but she was perfectly pleasant. He hoped to be a model customer and stay on her good side.
“I remember you too, hard to forget that red hair of yours. And yeah, I’ll take a Rainier and a shot of Jim Beam, please,” he said and handed her a twenty.
“What the hell, Lilypad. Remus is my customer!” Sirius cried out as he stalked behind the bar.
“Oh shut up, Pads, before I spray you,” she said with a mock glare, pointing the soda gun in his direction. Sirius answered with a theatrical batting of his lashes and threw his hands up.
Still irritated and a bit flustered by their earlier interaction, Remus beelined for the stage, where a small crowd of people was watching the band. It was indeed a bit of a mess. On stage was a kind of tragic indie rock band, with badly tuned guitars and nasally vocals. At least they seemed to be having a good time, despite the drummer being horridly off tempo and so drunk he could barely keep his seat on the stool.
The sound guy looked none too pleased either. He was a short, stocky guy with a messy sandy blonde mullet, wearing a black hoodie and a leather vest. His fingers flew across the soundboard, turning knobs and adjusting dials, trying in vain to improve the sound. At some point, Remus’s eyes drifted to him once more, and he looked vanquished, slumped back against the wall in his seat, drinking from a can of beer and just letting the disaster unfold unhindered.
Awful as it was, Remus had paid his five dollars, so he stood and bobbed his head to the unsteady rhythm.
Once the set was through, he decided he was done being pissy at Sirius. That must just be his personality, and he was daft to let it get to him. How could he know exactly what he did to him? He wasn't torturing him on purpose. Nothing about Sirius led Remus to believe that he could be maliciously cruel.
The stool he’d sat in last night was empty, so he took up his place at the bar. He’d barely been sitting long enough to have one sip of beer before some woman stormed up to the bar and demanded Sirius’s attention. She was yelling about how drunk the band was and how she wanted her money back, and Remus had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing and potentially exacerbating her fury.
Lily was rolling her eyes from one end of the bar, but Sirius just shrugged, completely unflappable.
“Sorry, no refunds, babe.”
For a brief moment, he thought she was going to make a stink about it, but she was clearly not immune to Sirius’s cheekiness either, and he watched her anger melt away as she sighed and planted herself on a barstool a few down from Remus.
“That’s fine, hon, just a double vodka soda then. Maybe it’ll help make the next band sound better,” the woman said, the tension fully dissolved.
“That’s the spirit, love,” Sirius said, making quick work of the drink and setting it in front of her.
When the woman got up and headed back toward the stage, Remus chuckled, earning Sirius’s attention, and said, “Woof, never heard someone ask for a refund at a pub.”
“Happens more often than you think. And they always act so surprised when the bands are drunk, like they don’t know we pay them in drink tickets,” Sirius said.
“I think it’s perfect, I happen to love shit music,” Remus said, trying to keep a straight face, but then Sirius burst out laughing, and Remus couldn’t help but join him.
“Honestly, though, what’s the worst act you’ve seen here?” Remus asked. “I’m sure there’s been far worse than these blokes.” He was genuinely curious, but mostly he just wanted to keep Sirius talking. Turns out Remus enjoyed the sound of his voice just as much as he liked looking at him.
“Oh lord, let me think,” Sirius said, his tongue peaking out from his lips, looking actually deep in thought. “Last year, this band called Cum Taco played, obviously, they played their instruments like it was their first time. Total shit. But at the end of their set, they threw crunchy taco shells filled with fake cum at the crowd. It was such a mess. Poor James and our sound guy, Peter, spent hours mopping up fake cum.”
“There’s no fucking way you’re serious, you’re taking the piss,” Remus said, laughing so hard he almost choked on his beer.
“I’m always Sirius,” he replied, and Remus just narrowed his eyes at the stupid joke. “But really, you think I could come up with something as good as Cum Taco. Hell, maybe they’ll tour through here again, and you too can get pelted with fake cum.”
“I’d buy presales for that,” Remus quipped back.
“Jeez, Remus, if you wanna get covered in cum that bad, you just have to ask,” Sirius said, trying desperately not to crack up. Which, honestly, just made him look even more alluring.
Remus knew he was joking, of course, but he felt an involuntary heat colour his cheeks a mortifying crimson. All he could do was pray that the dim lighting of the bar was doing its best to obscure his blush. Quickly, he recovered and shot back a cheeky joke of his own.
“Yeah, you know me, real bukkake lover.”
Now it was Sirius’s turn to blush, his only response a choked-out laugh.
For the next few hours, Remus just sat planted at the rail, none of the bands arresting enough of his attention to inspire him to move from his stool. Plus, his back and hip were aching, so he would probably do well to sit and not push it. Or at least that was the comforting lie he had spun for himself. Too proud to admit the pathetic truth, that really he just wanted to be near Sirius, content to catch glimpses of him shaking cocktails and pouring beers whenever Remus bothered to look up from his phone. Gobbling up the morsels of conversation they managed between customers.
God, he was no better than that creep across the bar, who once again sat there intently watching Lily. Every time James wandered over from his podium at the door to chat with Lily, that guy would glower at James like he was trying to strike him dead with a look alone. The guy appeared as if he was liable to combust from sheer fury each time that Lily laughed at something James had said. More than once, Remus had caught him glaring at him, too, and he would stare him down until he dropped his gaze.
After about the fourth instance of this, he beckoned Sirius to come closer and in a hushed voice he asked, “Oi, what the fuck is that tossers deal?”
Sirius slyly turned to see who Remus was referring to before inching his body closer so he was almost completely bent over the bar, his lips alarmingly close to Remus’s ear.
“That’s Snape, he sucks. Lily’s known him forever, unfortunately, so we all tolerate him. But he’s a total punisher. He’s here nearly every day, at least every day that Lils is on shift. She’s the only one who will serve him anyhow; he refuses to tip anyone but her,” Sirius murmured.
“Ah, I kind of got that vibe from him. Seems like a cunt, and he keeps giving me the evil eye,” Remus said.
“Yeah, he does that. Probably because you’re talking to me, the asshole fucking hates me. Calls me all sorts of fun names. Really odd that he seems to hate me the most, since it’s Prongs over there who’s always trying to convince Lils to go on a date with him,” he said, nodding towards James, over at the door. “I keep telling everyone he hates me because I’m so beautiful.”
Remus laughed as Sirius flipped his long hair to really sell it.
Around one o’clock in the morning, the bands wrapped up, and immediately Sirius ran over to turn the dial on the stereo, the house music kicking on. Catchy guitar riffs sonically assaulted the few people perched at the rail. Remus bobbed his head along, the booze finally hitting him, making him feel just the right amount of fuzzy. Rocky Erikson’s harsh screaming vocals flooded his thoughts with two-headed dogs.
“Didn’t this bloke go a bit mad and steal a bunch of junk mail and like wallpaper his whole place with it?”
Sirius’s eye lit up at Remus’s little bit of trivia.
“Oh yeah. Roky Erikson rules. This whole album is incredible. Aliens, paranoia, vampires, The Evil One has it all,” Sirius said as he turned the music even higher.
“I’ve never heard the whole album, I’ll have to check it out.”
“No!” Sirius exclaimed, looking more serious than he’d seen him yet. “No, I wanna be there the first time you hear it all the way through. It’s an experience, Remus. I’ll even bring a joint to set the mood.”
Remus felt struck dumb. Sirius wanted to listen to records with him.