Remus had been on tour for three weeks before anyone on Sirius Blackâs crew remembered to ask if he was âsecurity.â
It happened in Prague, backstage. One of the lighting techsâskinny, twenty-two, eyeliner smudged like heâd slept in itâlooked up at him while wrapping cables. âHey, man, youâre with the band, right? Youâre huge. Youâre their bodyguard or something?â
Remus adjusted the camera strap hanging around his neck and tried not to hunch, which only ever made him look more like a bear. âPhotographer,â he said softly.
âOh,â the tech blinked, like that didnât compute. âCool. You just⌠look like youâd break someoneâs nose before youâd take their picture.â
Remus gave the same awkward half-smile he always did in these conversations. He wasnât ashamed of being tall or broad-shoulderedâit wasnât like heâd chosen itâbut he hated the assumption that came with it: that big meant loud, or tough, or someone whoâd start a fight instead of avoid one.
In reality, heâd rather be behind a lens than in any crowd. But here he was: cities, arenas, screaming fansâand Sirius Black.
The man was magnetic in a way that made Remus feel off-balance just being near him. Onstage, Sirius was everythingâswagger, glitter, smoke, and sound. Offstage, he was no less distracting. He laughed too easily, touched people without thinkingâfingers brushing arms, hands on shouldersâand he was so⌠small. Compact, sharp lines, tattoos curling up veins, a smile that made the room tilt.
Remus kept his distance. He had to.
Because he was thirty-three, single, and hopelessly, stupidly pining for a man who didnât even know he existed outside of his job title.
It was after the Berlin show that Sirius actually spoke to him. Really spoke to him.
Remus was in the pit, editing shots from the first half of the concert, when a shadow fell across his laptop. He looked upâand there he was. Sweat-slick hair, eyeliner smudged, leather jacket thrown over bare arms like it was nothing.
âHey,â Sirius said, casual as if theyâd always been friends. âYouâre Remus, yeah?â
Remus blinked. âYes. I meanâyeah.â
âYou take the photos.â Sirius leaned over the table, scrolling through a few shots with unbothered fingers. âThese are brilliant. You make me lookâGod, I donât knowâcooler than I am.â
Remus nearly laughed out loud. âYouâre Sirius Black,â he said before he could stop himself. âYou donât need help looking cool.â
Siriusâs grin turned sharp and almost⌠shy? âFlatterer. You British?â
âEven better.â Sirius tapped one of the photosâhim mid-song, mouth open, eyes closed, a spotlight breaking behind him like a starburst. âI want this one. Print it huge. Over my bed.â
Remus flushed so hard it hurt. âI can send you the file.â
âPerfect.â Sirius straightened, gave him a mock salute. âCheers, big guy.â
And then he was gone, swept back into the storm of fans and crew and noise.
Remus sat there for a long moment, staring at the screen, pulse hammering. Big guy. Right. That was what people saw: some towering bloke with shoulders that didnât fit in airplane seats, probably more fist than thought.
Not someone who read poetry in hotel rooms, who could barely hold eye contact with the man heâd been half in love with since university radio first played Runaway Dog.
Remus told himself it was nothing. Sirius had probably forgotten him the moment heâd stepped back into the crowd. Rockstars didnât spend their time thinking about the tour photographer, especially not the quiet, too-big one who kept to the edges of every room.
But Sirius didnât forget.
The crew bus rattled over dark highways, most people asleep in their bunks. Remus couldnât. He was crammed into the back lounge, long legs folded awkwardly, editing shots with headphones on.
He didnât notice Sirius until the seat across from him shifted.
âCouldnât sleep either?â Sirius asked, voice rough with exhaustion but lighter than it had been onstage hours ago.
Remus tugged off one earbud. âNot really. Too much noise.â
Sirius smirked. âFrom the guy wearing headphones?â
âI meant⌠in my head,â Remus admitted, immediately regretting how honest that sounded.
But Sirius didnât tease him. He just nodded like he understood. âShow me what youâre working on?â
Remus turned the laptop toward him. Sirius leaned close, knees bumping Remusâs, studying each frame with surprising focus. âYouâre good,â he said finally. âReally good. You make it look like I know what Iâm doing up there.â
âYou do,â Remus murmured.
Sirius glanced up, eyes catching the dim light. âYou donât talk much, do you?â
Remus shrugged. âPeople⌠usually say enough without me.â
Sirius tilted his head, like he was trying to read him. âEveryone thinks youâre security.â
âNo.â Remus hesitated. âBut itâs easier than correcting them.â
For the first time, Sirius didnât look like the unshakable frontman plastered across every magazine cover. He looked softer, curious. âYouâre not scary, you know.â
Remus huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh. âTell that to the last six airports.â
Sirius grinned. âMaybe I will.â
The rooftop was loudâmusic, laughter, strangers pressing drinks into Remusâs hand. He lingered at the edge, as usual, trying to look busy with his camera.
Sirius spotted him instantly. âThere you are, Big Guy.â
Remus froze as Sirius slid into his space, close enough that Remus could smell smoke and citrus. âYou donât like parties, do you?â
âIâm here to work.â
âAnd yet youâve taken zero photos in the last hour.â Siriusâs grin softened. âCome on. Sit with me.â
They ended up in a quieter corner, legs dangling over the edge, city lights sprawling below. Sirius leaned back on his hands. âYouâre different.â
âEveryone here wants something. You just⌠watch. Like youâre not even part of it.â Siriusâs gaze flicked to Remusâs mouth, then back to his eyes. âKind of makes me want to know what youâre thinking.â
Remus swallowed hard. âMostly that I should probably get better at small talk.â
Sirius laughedâreal, head-tipped-back laughter. âI donât need small talk. I get enough of that from people who donât mean it.â
For one dizzy second, Remus almost said, I mean it. I mean all of it. I see you even when no one else does.
But he didnât. He just looked away, knuckles white around his camera strap.
By now, it had become routine: Sirius would find him.
Remus didnât know how it happened. He tried to keep a professional distance, but every city blurred into the next, and somehow Sirius kept gravitating toward him like it was intentional.
âLoopy,â Sirius called from the stageâhis new nickname for him, short for Lupin, which the crew had picked up without asking. âNeed you to test the lights for me.â
âIâm the photographer,â Remus reminded him, standing below the stage with his camera ready.
âExactly. Take a picture of me up here. Tell me if I look good in this spotlight.â Sirius leaned into the mic stand, smirking. âThis is very serious work.â
Remus raised the camera, but Sirius stopped him. âWait, no. You do it too.â
âCome up here. Let me take one of you.â
âYes,â Sirius insisted, hopping down and grabbing his wrist before he could retreat. âYou hide behind that lens all the time. I want to see you.â
It was ridiculousâRemus was twice his size, could have pulled away easily, but Siriusâs fingers wrapped around his wrist felt like an anchor.
He climbed onto the stage, awkward and flushed. Sirius snatched the camera.
âHold still,â Sirius said, adjusting settings with a confidence that was almost certainly fake. âLook at me.â
And Sirius went quiet. He lowered the camera slightly, like heâd forgotten why heâd taken it in the first place.
âYouâre⌠not what I expected,â Sirius said finally.
âEveryone says that.â
âThey probably donât mean it the way I do.â
Before Remus could respond, someone shouted that soundcheck was starting. Sirius handed the camera back, flashing a grin that didnât reach his eyes. âLater, Loopy.â
The crew was scattered across hotel rooms, but Remus couldnât sleep. He sat on the balcony, reading a dog-eared novel by phone light.
âThought Iâd find you here.â
He looked up. Sirius was barefoot, hoodie pulled over messy hair, holding two mugs. âTea,â Sirius explained. âDonât say I never do anything for you.â
Remus took the mug carefully. âThanks.â
Sirius leaned against the railing, studying him. âYouâre quiet even when no oneâs around.â
âBullshit.â Sirius smiled faintly. âYouâre thinking all the time. You just donât share it.â
Remus didnât know what to do with that, so he sipped his tea.
Siriusâs voice dropped. âYou ever get tired of being⌠outside everything?â
Remus looked at him sharply. âYouâre Sirius Black. Youâre the center of every room.â
âYeah,â Sirius said. âAnd somehow Iâve never felt more alone.â
Something heavy settled between them.
Remus wanted to reach outâwanted to put a hand over Siriusâs, wanted to tell him he wasnât alone, not if heâd just look. But Remus had spent years convincing himself that wanting something didnât mean he was allowed to take it.
Backstage was a stormâroadies shouting, equipment cases rattling, fans outside screaming loud enough to shake the walls. Remus tucked himself against the side corridor, camera bag clutched like a shield. Crowds pressed in on him in ways that still felt unfamiliar despite weeks on the road.
Then Sirius appearedâsweat-slick, buzzing with post-performance adrenaline, eyeliner smudged like shadows. âLoopy,â he grinned, grabbing Remusâs arm without hesitation, âyouâre my ticket out of here. Come on.â
Remus blinked. âWhat?â
âToo many people,â Sirius said quickly, weaving them through the crush. âStay close.â
Siriusâs hand slid down, fingers wrapping around Remusâs much larger one. It should have looked ridiculousâSirius pulling someone twice his size like a determined cat dragging a reluctant bearâbut somehow it didnât.
They ducked into a storage stairwell, slamming the door against the noise. Sirius leaned back against it, panting and laughing.
âSee? Youâre handy to have around. Like my own personal wall.â
Remus stepped back automatically, hunching. âSorry. I know Iâpeople say I take up too much space.â
Siriusâs smile faltered. âWho the hell told you that?â
âEveryone.â Remus stared at the floor. âAll my life. Too big. Too serious. Not⌠approachable.â
For a second Sirius didnât speak. Then he reached upâway upâand tugged lightly at the sleeve of Remusâs fair isle sweater. âYouâre literally wearing the least threatening jumper Iâve ever seen. You look like youâre about to read me a bedtime story, not break my nose.â
Remus flushed so hard his ears burned. âIâI like this one. Itâs comfortable.â
âI like it too,â Sirius said softly. âMakes you look⌠kind.â
Remus froze. No one ever called him that. Not once.
Tour bus, Munich. 2:15 AM.
Everyone was asleep. Remus had taken the back couch again, book in hand. He was halfway through a chapter when the bus jolted, and suddenly Sirius was thereâtumbling into the seat next to him, blanket in hand.
âCouldnât sleep,â Sirius murmured. âCan Iâ?â
Remus shifted, trying to give him space despite the cramped couch. âOf course.â
But there wasnât much room to give. Their shoulders brushed. Sirius yawned, curling up practically against him.
âYouâre warm,â Sirius mumbled, already half-asleep.
Remus stared at the ceiling, heart pounding. âIâm⌠sorry.â
âDonât be.â Siriusâs voice was quiet but certain. âI like it.â
Remus didnât move all night.
Remus was swapping memory cards when Sirius appeared again, leaning casually against the wall.
âYou never dance,â Sirius said.
âI donât,â Remus replied simply.
âYou should. Bet youâre good at it.â
Remus snorted. âIâd look ridiculous. People expect someone my size to be⌠coordinated. Iâm not.â
Sirius stepped closer, eyes glinting. âI think youâre lying. Youâre probably secretly graceful. Big guys usually areâtheyâve had to learn how not to crush everyone.â
Remus blinked. âThatâs⌠accurate, actually.â
âSee?â Sirius smirked. âYouâre all soft edges under there.â
Remus looked away quickly, pretending to adjust his camera. âYouâre teasing me.â
âNot teasing.â Siriusâs voice was softer now. âJust trying to get you to see what I see.â
The afterparty was louder than usualâlast European date before the North American leg. Crew packed into a bar rented for the night, music pounding, drinks flowing.
Remus didnât usually drink much. Too many years of keeping control, of not wanting to be that big man in a room who everyone assumed would get aggressive after a pint. But tonight, someone shoved a glass in his hand, and another, and by the time Sirius found him, Remus was sitting on the fire escape outside, flushed and muttering to himself.
âLoopy,â Sirius said, stepping out, still glittering faintly under the barâs neon lights. âYou disappeared. Thatâs illegal at your own party.â
Remus blinked up at him, glasses sliding down his nose. âNot my party. Your party.â His words were thick, slower than usual. âYouâre⌠youâre Sirius Black.â
Sirius smirked but crouched beside him. âGuilty. Youâre drunk, arenât you?â
Remus groaned, dropping his head into his huge hands. âIâm notâwell, maybe. Just a bit. I donât usually. I canât hold my liquor.â
Sirius laughed softly. âYeah, I can tell.â
âSorry.â Remus peeked up, miserable. âI shouldnât be here. I donât⌠belong in your world. Youâre famous, beautiful, magnetic, and Iâm justâthis.â He gestured vaguely at himselfâtoo broad, sweater stretched across his chest, knees drawn up awkwardly.
Siriusâs amusement faded. âThis?â
âYou know.â Remusâs voice cracked. âToo big. Too quiet. People look at me and think Iâm some bouncer or⌠or scary. Iâve spent my whole life trying to take up less space. And then youââ He stopped, panicked realization flickering across his face. âOh, God. Iâm saying this out loud.â
Sirius tilted his head. âThen say the rest.â
Remus pressed his palms to his eyes. âI canât.â
âYou can.â Siriusâs voice was low now. âWhat about me?â
Remusâs shoulders hunched like he could fold himself in half. âI like you,â he mumbled. âToo much. Youâre⌠youâre all light and Iâm just⌠background. Youâre Sirius Black. Iâm a guy in a fair isle jumper with a camera.â
Sirius stared at him for a long momentâso long that Remus wished the earth would just swallow him.
Finally, Sirius leaned closer. âRemus,â he said, quiet but sharp. âYou think Iâve been following you around between sets because I donât notice you?â
Remusâs breath caught. âYou⌠what?â
Sirius smiled faintly, almost shy. âYouâre not scary. Youâre not too big. Youâre⌠steady. Youâre the only person here who doesnât want something from me. And Iââ He stopped, shook his head. âYouâll regret hearing this sober.â
Remus blinked, stunned. âYouâre⌠youâre flirting with me.â
Siriusâs grin returned. âIâve been flirting with you for weeks, Loopy.â
Remus made a small, panicked sound, burying his face in his hands again. âOh, no.â
ââOh, noâ?â Sirius teased gently. âNot the reaction I was hoping for.â
Remus woke with his head pounding and his stomach twisted in knots. The room was too bright, his sweater smelled faintly of beer, andâworse than all of thatâhe remembered everything.
The fire escape. Siriusâs hand on his sleeve. The words that had tumbled out like heâd been saving them for years.
âOh, God,â Remus muttered, dragging a pillow over his face. âIdiot.â
He spent the morning avoiding everyone. He edited photos in the crew lounge, answered emails that didnât need answering, and hid behind his laptop like it was a shield.
When the door opened and Sirius walked in, Remus froze. He kept his eyes on the screen, pretending to type.
âMorning, Loopy,â Sirius said lightly.
Remus cleared his throat. âGood morning. About last nightâI was drunk. I shouldnât have saidââ
Sirius cut him off. âYou think I donât know what Iâm doing? You think Iâd let you brush that off?â
Remus finally looked up. Sirius was leaning against the table, arms crossed, a small, deliberate smile on his lips. âYou were honest,â Sirius continued. âI liked it.â
âI embarrassed myself.â
âYou didnât.â Sirius stepped closer. âIâve been trying to make you see me for weeks. And you still think Iâm just⌠a rockstar being nice to the big quiet guy in the sweaters.â
Remus swallowed hard. âArenât you?â
Sirius stopped right in front of him, close enough that Remus could feel the warmth radiating off his smaller frame. âNo. Iâm someone who canât stop looking for you in every room. Someone who thinks youâre smarter than anyone here, and softer than you let yourself believe. And yes, I want you.â
Remusâs breath caught. âSiriusâŚâ
âTell me to back off,â Sirius said, voice low. âTell me you donât want this.â
Remus didnât move. Couldnât.
âIââ His voice cracked. âIâve wanted this since the first night you spoke to me.â
That was all Sirius needed. He reached up, fingers curling in the front of Remusâs sweater, and kissed him.
It wasnât careful. Sirius kissed like he performedâintense, unhesitating, all heat and intent. Remus made a startled sound, hands hovering before instinct took over and he pulled Sirius closer, careful even in his urgency.
Sirius pressed closer, lips parting, standing on his toes to erase every inch of space between them. One of Remusâs hands slid to the back of Siriusâs neck, the other anchoring around his waist, grounding them both.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Sirius smirked faintly. âStill think youâre just background?â
Remus, cheeks flushed and glasses fogged, shook his head. âNot anymore.â
Sirius leaned in, voice almost a whisper. âGood. Because I donât do background. I want all of you.â
Remusâs heart thudded hard enough to drown out everything else. For once, he didnât try to make himself smaller.
Written for moonysmidlifecrisisfest prompt A15