Hipsters and Cafes
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“You know, Sirius, you don’t strike me as the shy, insecure type.”
Sirius’ eyes lowered to glaring slits. “I’m not. It’s just…I don’t usually get chatted up by blokes I spent ten minutes insulting.”
Remus tightened his grip. “I wasn’t insulted. I also meant what I said. I hate what I write. But I make okay money.”
It was Sirius’ turn for a full-bodied laugh, and he shook his head. “That’s fair. I tried to be a starving, tortured artist. Found I could pay my bills better on a graphic designer salary.”
Remus’ face lit up with such joy, it almost caused Sirius physical pain. “I really want to kiss you.”
Series
- Part 1 of Hipsters and Cafes
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Remus smiled, then kissed Sirius again. “I love you,” he said after a second. “I do. It’s your birthday and I love you and I’ve never been with someone that felt so bloody right. So there it is.”
Sirius swallowed, his tongue refusing to budge.
“I don’t expect you to feel it. Or say it back. Or anything really, because I know that I…”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence because Sirius was kissing him again, holding him tight by the front of his shirt. “Shut up,” he breathed, and Remus did. “I love you too, you fucking git. I think I have since your barmy arse stole James’ seat at that stupid hipster café and told me all about thunder crashes and the world’s sharp edges. So yeah.”
Series
- Part 2 of Hipsters and Cafes