"Did you just call me your boyfriend?"
Sirius's eyes widened, looking so startled he almost dropped the two coffees he had just ordered. "What? No."
"You did. You said 'my boyfriend' in remarkably clear Korean."
"I said roommate, Moony. The pronunciation is tricky, you don't even—"
"I know the word for boyfriend," Remus interrupted, his voice flat as they stepped away from the register. "I’ve been practicing Hangul for a year for this trip. I also know the word for 'grumpy,' which you added right at the end."
Sirius’s ears went red, but he stubbornly shoved the cup at Remus's chest. "I needed her to understand why I was ordering something with enough ginger to kill a horse. We're in a foreign country, the language barrier is an issue, context is important."
"I'm not your boyfriend."
Sirius stopped, and then turned fully, taking a deliberate half-step into Remus’s space, crowding him back just a fraction of an inch against the wood of the counter.
"No?" Sirius murmured, his voice dropping so low it vibrated just between them. "Are you sure about that?"
Remus swallowed, suddenly nervous. "Sirius—"
"Because I haven't slept in my own bed in years. I know your exact coffee order in a language I can barely speak," Sirius whispered, his eyes flicking down to Remus's mouth before slowly dragging back up. "And you let me corner you like this, and I can feel your heart beating out of your chest. So if I'm not your boyfriend, Moony... do you want to tell me what exactly we're doing?"
And Remus couldn't decide which was more terrifying: the question itself or how badly he wanted to answer it.