witherwallflower
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Summary
“What do you want me to do?” Remus says, tiredly. All he wants is to curl up on his bed. Smoke a pack of cigarettes. Get drunk. He can’t stop looking at Harry.
“Remus...” Dumbledore is gentle. Remus hates when he has that tone. Hates that he knows it will hurt. “There is no one else left.”
A bitter laugh escapes him. “So you’ll curse the poor thing with a werewolf for a guardian?”
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- Words:
- 274,069
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- 9
- Bookmarks:
- 452
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Summary
Sirius’s thoughts are a slow-moving, impending disaster. How he wants to pin Remus up against the cupboards, to crowd him into a corner; how he wants to intertwine their fingers, to brush his lips against Remus’s forehead, his jaw. Instead, he settles for ducking his head and sliding a finger through the belt loop of Remus's jeans—a ridiculous gesture so utterly intimate, even for the pair of them, that he only allows it because he’s just drunk enough.
“Stop stealing my bloody clothes, Lupin.” He says, very quietly.
Remus looks up at him, eyes dark, and murmurs pleasantly: “Better learn to do your own laundry then, Black. Consider it my fee.”
***
It was an impossible thing, living with Remus Lupin--but Sirius was doing it anyway.
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- Words:
- 34,430
- Works:
- 5
- Bookmarks:
- 110
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Summary
Words got in the way sometimes, but Remus got the sense Sirius knew what he was trying to say.
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Another coffee shop au.
Series
- Part 1 of Blends!verse