It was half past ten and Sirius was singing along to “Life on Mars” as he swayed in front of the stovetop, frying a pan’s worth of eggs and bacon. To the casual observer, he seemed in a cheerful mood: he was switching between reciting the lyrics and humming as he pushed a spatula around the pan, his shoulders relaxed under his old Siouxsie and the Banshees t-shirt. In reality, he was distracted, thoughts of one Remus J. Lupin flitting back and forth across his mind like a flock of incessant birds. He pushed his free hand through his hair hanging loose down to his shoulders, sighing. It seemed making breakfast was not a good enough distraction from his original, Moony-shaped distraction.
Sirius was glad things between him and Remus seemed to be back on track after nearly a week’s worth of…well, not wrongness exactly, but certainly not-right-ness. Remus had held him and let himself be held as they’d done for each other many times before, and whatever distance had been forming between them had closed in the instant the distance between their bodies had. They were good; things were good.
But a persistent voice in the back of Sirius’s head reminded him he still didn’t know who Remus wanted to be with—who Remus didn’t think himself good enough for, who Remus was seemingly trying his best to get over.
Sirius frowned, turning the music up a few notches and trying to lose himself in the licks of the guitar, the croons of Bowie’s vocals. He flipped the sizzling bacon with a flick of his wrist, trying not to think about how much he wanted a cigarette. Why the fuck did he ever let Moony talk him into quitting?
He looked over his shoulder as he heard someone join him in the small kitchen. “Prongs,” Sirius said in greeting, giving him a nod.
James had spent the past week rushing from one place to the other. Not to say he wasn’t enjoying it. After all, being able to see Lily Evans more frequently since her tumble off a trampoline, was delightful. Even if she threatened his life sometimes. Still, he’d felt guilty for nearly disappearing between their party and now.
Which was precisely why, as soon as he could, he planned to spend every second inside the flat. Whether his mates missed him or not was besides the point. They certainly did, in his mind. Finally done for the week with modules and work, James Potter silently dropped his things onto the couch and sought out the slightly melancholy mood coming from the kitchen.
He stayed leaning against the entrance, watching Sirius sway with the music, avoiding thinking about how much the smell of bacon was so tempting, yet, also knew he’d avoid eating pork at all costs. Mama Potter would be disappointed.
Deciding it was time to approach his brother, James shuffled his feet to make noise as he sat down at the counter. He gave a nod, “Padfoot.” He waited a moment, testing the waters before deciding to speak up, “So aside from poisoning your body with bacon, you alright, mate?” He tilted his head slightly, already knowing something was up with the Marauders’ dynamics. He’d been busy, but not too busy to not notice how odd him and Remus were acting.
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