“I'm just gonna pretend I'm in an alternate reality with a bunch of gay people and we do stupid gay shit and everyone's supportive of each other and then I end up dancing”
cw: brief mentions of past injury and past outing and anxiety
~
December
And then the cold came, the dark days
When fear crept into my mind
~
December brought loses, and not just Remus’. By the handful. Like coal in a stocking, bulky and bitter. Remus couldn’t help but feel like his own frustration was leaking onto Sirius, who slowly but surely, regained the tightness in his shoulders. Through Sirius, it trickled over the rest of the team, tar-like and sluggish.
“All right,” Marlene said from behind the camera, blond hair obviously carefully curled that morning but thrown into a stressed, messy bun now. “Remus. Loops. Re. Babe. It’s one line.”
“Yeah, babe,” Finn said from the sidelines, arms crossed over his elf costume, the bells on his shoes and cuffs jingling as if spurred on by his sly grin.
Anyone who knows me knows that I love Sirius Black in...pretty much every iteration of his character. I love his marauders-era self, I love his Best Godfather Ever self, and I especially love who he becomes in AUs. Sweater Weather is no exception--in fact, it's one of my favorite characterizations of him.
To @lumosinlove: Thank you for bringing such a unique Sirius to life. Credit to you for the SW universe.
To my fellow Sirius lovers: We all know his 61st birthday was spent well, don't we?
Happy birthday, Padfoot.
7
“Mama, non!” Sirius protested, hauling the chubby little baby back into the safety of his lap.
Walburga raised her eyebrows. “You want him to spit on your cake?”
“He won’t, ouais Regulus?” Sirius craned his neck to look around the rosy cheeks, unable to keep down a smile when he received a shrieking giggle in response. “Ouais! Alright, you have to blow when I count to three.”
“Sirius, he’s too little,” his father chided. “He doesn’t understand. Give him back to maman.”
Sirius kept his arms around his baby brother’s soft tummy and heard several awws from the table of relatives. “He can do it,” he insisted. “He’s smart.”
“He’s barely a year old.”
Watch him, Sirius thought, turning the baby in his lap. Regulus had the same gray-blue eyes as he did, and the same handful of curls that fell over his forehead—ever since he had been born, Sirius knew that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for him. “D’accord,” he began. Regulus held his gaze solemnly. “I’m going to count, and then you puff your cheeks like this and blow as hard as you can.”
Regulus giggled as he demonstrated and Sirius grinned, positioning him once again so they were both facing the cake. He had already opened a dozen presents from his family members—new pads, new stick, new helmet, only two books—but none of them had made him quite as happy as feeling Regulus squirm around and try to grab the cake.
“Un…deux...trois!” I wish for a whole year like this moment, he thought fervently as he blew on the seven candles through his laughter. Regulus was doing little more than blowing raspberries in the air; it was the effort that counted, in Sirius’ mind. His family members clapped politely before the adult chatter started up again. Regulus was quickly whisked away and he tried not to let his face fall.
Next time, he thought as he began to pass slices of cake to each aunt, uncle, and cousin. Next time we can do it properly and he can sit next to me all day long.
--
19
“Happy birthday to you!” all four children scream-sang at the top of their little lungs, dragging out the last note while their parents laughed at the opposite side of the table.
Sirius blushed and ducked his head as Mrs. Dumais lit the candles with a beaming smile. “Merci, madame.”
“Celeste,” she reminded him, her whole face shining. Sirius didn’t quite understand her excitement, but he appreciated it nonetheless. “Now go on, make a wish.”
“There’s not much to wish for,” he said; they all laughed, though he hadn’t made a joke. Away from his parents, drafted by a team worlds better than the Snakes, living with people who actually seemed to want to know him…really, the only thing Sirius could think of was to wish Regulus could be there with him.
Well, that wasn’t the only thing.
“You hafta make one!” Adele clambered up in his lap despite Mr. Dumais’ ill-fated grab for her, cozying right up against his side with those big, bright eyes that melted him every time. “C’mon, Sirius, it’s your birthday wish! That means it’s extra-super special.”
“Alright,” he agreed, instinctively moving a hand around to keep her from sliding off onto the floor. It had been a while since Regulus was allowed to sit with him and blow out the candles together, but he still remembered the motions. “Do you all want to help me?”
Marc and Louis were on him in an instant. “Oh—give him some breathing room, mes petites,” Celeste warned.
He had tried so hard to stay closed-off and wary, but something about the Dumais family made it impossible for him to hide for long; he would miss them when his mother inevitably got her way. Sirius offered his best half-smile to soothe Celeste’s obvious worry. “C’est bien, I don’t mind.”
He stared down at the nineteen flickering candles casting light over the darkened room. Outside, the first frost was just forming, but the house warmed him all the way to his bones. There were many things he could wish for if he was being honest with himself—Regulus’ safety, to keep the Dumais family as his own, to be—
Sirius paused. Normal.
“He’s thinking really hard,” Louis whispered loudly, earning himself a whack on the arm from his sister.
“I’m ready,” Sirius said after a moment. “On three, d’accord?”
“D’accord,” they chorused, wiggling until they were within breath-range of the perfect cake.
“Un…deux…trois!” I wish to stay with the Lions for as long as I can. The four of them blew out the candles with ease.
--
27
“Are you done y—” Sirius’ question and subsequent noise of surprise were cut off by warm lips on his own and two hands cradling his face to deepen the kiss, accompanied by a swipe of a tongue that made his knees turn to jelly. He hummed, wrapping his arms around Remus’ waist to sneak a hand up his shirt and feel the mid-season muscles returning after their perfect summer.
“We’re good!” some distant voice from the land of the living called.
Remus pulled away and patted Sirius’ hip, unfazed save for the pink of his cheeks. “Fantastic. That was close.”
“I—what?” Sirius managed. He didn’t even have the wherewithal to do more than whine when Remus stepped out of the circle of his arms and heard the horrible, awful, kiss-ruining voice snickering from the other doorway. “Wait, come back!”
“But there’s a surprise! We’re still setting up!” Remus laughed, though he moved back in and draped his arms over Sirius’ shoulders for a light peck. “Hey, baby.”
“More birthday kisses.”
“More?”
Sirius smiled and nudged their noses together; he could feel the cool metal of Remus’ shiny new wedding ring against the back of his neck and kissed him softly. That feeling would never get old. “I’m turning 27,” he murmured. “That’s not too many for you to handle.”
“Jesus, you two are so married,” James muttered from across the room; Sirius glared at him over Remus’ shoulder and received a playful wink in return, only to have his face guided back down for his first gift of the day.
--
49
The sun was still pink and orange through the bedroom window as Sirius cracked an eye open to the feeling of something a bit chapped tracking down his neck. “Hmm?” he asked oh-so-eloquently.
“32,” Remus responded around a smile, his voice still scratchy from sleep. “33. 34, 35—”
“That was a good one,” Sirius mumbled, closing his eyes again as more kisses speckled his jaw and throat.
Remus hummed in agreement; there was less vivid gold in his hair than there had been in the picture hung closest on their wall, but Sirius liked the gray streaks. It looked quite rugged and dashing combined with the 10 or 15-year-old scar from a stray skate on his chin. “40,” he continued with a quiet exhale when Sirius began to trace each knob of his spine. “41, 42, 43, 44, 45—”
“This tradition gets more time-consuming every year.”
“Shut your mouth. 46, 47, 48.” Remus paused for a moment to prop himself on his elbows and bracket Sirius’ face before he leaned down and brushed their lips together. “49.”
“I’m old.”
Even if the auburn of his curls had faded, the bright hazel-gold of his eyes was as sharp as ever as he narrowed them in playful warning. “Watch it, I’m three years older than you.”
“Old,” Sirius whispered with a teasing poke to his belly.
Remus cocked his head to the side, then settled down to lay on his chest. The muscle that padded him in their 20s and 30s before retirement was mostly gone, but Sirius had to admit he didn’t mourn it much. It was nice to be soft. “When the kids get up, you’re making them breakfast.”
“On my birthday?” Sirius gasped. “They’re 18 and 22, they can make some pancakes for their dear old, ancient, creaky—”
“Shut your mouth!” Remus laughed. “If you’re ancient and creaky, that means I’m dust!”
If 22 (and a half) years of marriage had taught Sirius anything, it was that puppy eyes never had an age limit. He cuddled Remus up in his arms and met his gaze with as much of a pleading pout as he could manage. Bat the lashes, hug him close, kiss the cheek…
Remus huffed. “Fine. You’re off the hook.”
Gottem. “Merci, mon loup.”
“It’s been over two decades,” Remus informed him as he linked their ankles. “You shouldn’t still be this cute.”
Sirius winked. “I have to keep up with you somehow.”
“Oh, please.”
“You love it.”
“I refuse to confirm or deny that statement.” The smile twitching at the corner of his mouth said otherwise, and after a moment he relaxed with a skim of his fingertips down the length of Sirius’ collarbone. “But I do love you. Happy birthday.”
“What time is it?”
“Just past 7.”
Sirius hummed and wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist, snuggling into his soft sleep shirt. “The kids won’t be up for three hours at least.”
“Ten years ago that would have meant something very different for the next activity,” Remus remarked as he propped his chin on Sirius’ bedhead and rubbed his back with a yawn. “Hell, two weeks ago you might’ve been able to convince me.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow without opening his eyes. “Is that offer still on the table?”
The smooth circles turned to a light pinch of his backside and he laughed; Remus’ grin was palpable. “Don’t push your luck, birthday boy.”
--
61
The little boy perched happily on Sirius’ hip leaned his chin on his shoulder and stared up at him with his mother’s wide, dark eyes. “Do you miss skating, Papa?”
Sirius frowned. “What? I skate with you all the time.” And I have the sore knees to prove it.
“Yeah, but for real,” he insisted, tugging on the silver and gold necklace that hung around his neck. “For people and stuff.”
“Not really,” Sirius mused, looking out over the backyard. The party was in full swing—dozens of family members, friends, and people they had acquired along the way filled the space with their voices and their smiles. By the fence, Celeste and Dumo seemed to be enjoying their great-grandchildren more than their own son’s birthday. “It was fun when I did it, but I’m happy to be retired. Gives me more time to be with you, eh?”
The boy laughed as Sirius tickled his stomach, then leaned against him with a long exhale. “I love you, Papa. And Grandpa, ‘cause he gives me cookies when you’re not looking, but it’s your birthday and I think I love you most today.”
Well, fuck. Sirius pressed a kiss to his wild curls and let it linger; there was nothing in the world he wanted to hear more than that. “Go see Auntie Adele, ouais? She’s spoiling your sisters more than I am and that’s not allowed on my birthday.”
“Okay,” he giggled, taking off at a run the second his sneakers touched the grass. Sirius sniffed back his tears—he turned to grab a glass of water from the table, but met Remus’ questioning look across the yard and had to swallow hard around the lump in his throat. One eyebrow raised in an obvious question. He answered it with a blown kiss and received a smile that hadn’t changed since the day they met.
Later, when everyone pressed in close around him and half a dozen children were practically spilling off his lap, he could think of only one wish. I wish for a whole year like this moment, Sirius thought as far too many people to count blew on his mother’s homemade cake all at once. He had never thought of a wish so quickly.
snowghoul
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
