#brain omelette

[louwie-luna]

Hey did you know if you actually sit down to actually write the actual story instead of just playing the same scenes over and over in your head like a movie you can actually solve a lot of the plot issues and missing pieces?? Wild concept I know

[louwie-luna]

Polar opposites

This thingy was born from a conversation with a bunch of fellow wolfstar lovers and my brain wouldn’t shut up until I at least tried to write about it. The topic was basically “What if posh older Sirius met young punk Remus and was entirely unprepared for and more than a little insulted by being ignored even though he’s totally still got it.” Unedited and un-everything and smashed out over the course of an evening. Hope you enjoy! *** The fundraiser is a huge success. Sirius meanders through the room, schmoozes with the right suits, casts charming smiles to the right benefactors’ wives, strokes the egos of the right pockets. He doesn’t want to jinx it, but he can almost hear the clinking of metaphorical coins piling up in the metaphorical vault.

Marlene, one of the organizers from The Shack, the youth center this night is dedicated to, sidles up to him with a grin.

“This is absolutely fantastic,” she gushes, eyes sparkling as she gazes across the grand venue. The rainbow theme is evident in every corner of the room, from the floral arrangements, the drinks, and of course, the giant rainbow flag on the stage. Sirius’ heart is so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “Is it too early to put in an order for new computers yet?”

Sirius laughs good-heartedly, but secretly marvels at the fact that she thinks a few computers qualifies as a large expense. He is humbled, yet again, by the reminder that wealth should never be taken for granted.

“I couldn’t have done it without you and the rest of your team,” Sirius says, and he really means it. He gives her arm a light squeeze. “Your dedication to the cause is astounding.”

Marlene gives him a strange little smile, but then perks up as something seems to catch her eyes.

“Speaking of team.” She grins as she waves at someone on the other side of the room. “Did you meet Remus yet?”

Sirius follows her line of sight and hums. “No I don’t think –“

Later, alone in the safety of his flat, Sirius will blame the generous flow of alcohol for dampening his wits, and the excellent lightwork of the technicians, and his dry spell that has been completely voluntary, thank you James for his reactions when he meets Remus Lupin for the first time.

He stares, throat dry, and thanks his many years in the spotlight for the fact that he does not blush. He also thanks the ambient low light of the room.

The young man that ambles towards them looks as if he’s stepped out of a music video, or perhaps a rock concert. He sticks out like a sore thumb in the well bred crowd of polished patrons. He’s tall, first off, and walks with a slight slouch as if he’s aware of the fact and uncomfortable with it. He’s got a mop of curls on top of his head and shaved sides, and a silver ring glints in one of his eyebrows, several more in his ears. Perhaps most notable are his clothes. There is a dress code, for these sorts of things. Marlene is wearing a very flattering mauve dress that Sirius kindly pretends doesn’t still have the price tag on. Sirius is in a bespoke suit from Savile Row that is starting to feel slightly too warm. Remus is wearing, well –

The man did try, Sirius will give him that. He’s in a black blazer and a white shirt, but without a tie and the sleeves are folded up to his elbows in a very deliberate manner, showing off a collection of tattoos. But that’s not the worst of it. He’s combined them with black jeans that are ripped at the knees and the sort of leather boots Sirius himself wore in his youth, but instead of looking like a poser it just makes Remus even more imposing. A little dangerous. Sirius ignores the urge to fan himself and reminds himself that he is thirty six years old and not sixteen.

“Remus!” Marlene shouts, even though the man is already in front of them. She, too, seems to have benefitted from the well-stocked bar. “Have you said hello to Sirius yet?”

Remus, who has greeted Marlene with a hug, flicks his gaze over Sirius body with a slight downturned curve to his full lips.

“Hello,” he murmurs, giving Sirius another once-over before focusing back to Marlene. “Alright, love? Dorcas has been looking for you for the past half hour. She’s about ready to send out a search party.”

Sirius is by no means a snob, but neither is he used to being dismissed in such a casual manner.

“Is that why you’re here?” he jokes, but instead of the smile or laugh he expects, Remus’ eyebrows twitch, not a proper frown, but close enough.

Marlene, bless her, laughs. “I better go find her then.” She pats Remus’ arm. “You keep Sirius company in the meantime.”

Remus eyes widen. In this light, they look almost like gold. “That’s not what I –“

But Marlene is already darting away. Remus exhales in an exasperated kind of way and Sirius tries very hard to not take it personally.

“What do think of all this then?” Sirius nodded at the crowd with a smile. “It seems all the advertising did its job.”

Remus stares at him for a beat too long to be polite and then shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “Seems a bit wasteful, honestly.”

Evidently, he could do with a tad less honesty. Sirius smiles again anyway. “Wasteful? We’ll have raised thousands of pounds by the end of this evening.”

Remus scoffs. “And how many thousands did all this cost?” He gestures at the generously decorated room, the lights, the servers milling around the guests and everything else Sirius has worked his arse off the past months to achieve. “If they truly cared about the cause they’d donate directly to us instead of going through this fucking charade.” He glances at Sirius, lips pressed together. “What’s a couple thousands to people like you anyway?”

Sirius sputters, struggling to come up with a clever reply, more than a little insulted by being lumped together with these people even if it’s technically accurate. Now listen here, you ungrateful punk, his brain supplies him with, delivered in a voice suspiciously like his father’s. “We all have to play the game, I guess,” he mutters eventually, taking a swig from his drink.

Remus snorts. “I guess.” His tone suggests that Sirius is being made fun of. “Anyway. See you round, Mr. Black.” With that, he stalks away, and Sirius is left feeling unmoored and unsettled, as if something significant has just occurred, but his brain hasn’t quite caught up yet.

See you around, Mr Black.

Sirius cincerely hopes so.