Sunburnt Sirius as a tourist in a coastal Southern Welsh town, dragged there by the Potters, who adore the Mumbles and Swansea summers.
Remus who works in his mum’s cafe right by the pier, where Sirius decides upon their first day that this is where they will have breakfast every day for the rest of the summer.
i absolutely adore this ask honestly
the first morning the potters drag sirius out for a proper welsh breakfast, sirius is already pink from the ten-minute walk from their rental cottage
he spots remus behind the counter (sleeves rolled up, faint scars peeking from his forearms, soft curls tied back with a bandana) and instantly declares this cafe their new daily ritual. “breakfast here every single day, prongs. no arguments”. james just smirks because he sees exactly why
the first thing remus notices about sirius is his sunburn. the poor dude winces every time he shifts, and there are freckles standing out sharply on his pink nose
without a word remus disappears into the back and returns with a bottle of aloe vera his mum keeps for emergency. he goes like, “on the house. you look like you might need it”. and when i say he’s fucking sexy i MEAN it. he says in that low, slightly raspy voice, and sirius is gone for him right then
sirius starts showing up earlier each day just to watch remus work, wiping tables, carrying trays, chatting quietly with the old regulars. he orders the biggest breakfast possible and lingers over coffee, pretending to read the book while actually stealing glances. remus pretends not to pay attention at the way sirius lingers but always slides an extra pain au chocolat onto his plate with a sweet tiny eye-roll
by day three sirius is properly burnt, shoulders glowing, nose peeling, complaining while secretly loving the excuse to come back. remus starts keeping a spare tube of aftersun in the fridge behind the counter
he pulls sirius into the shaded back courtyard during his break one morning, sits him on an upturned crate, and gently rubs the cooling gel over his shoulders and face. sirius goes very quiet, heart hammering, mumbling “you don’t have to”, and remus just murmurs, “i want to”
their routine solidifies fast: sirius arrives windblown and increasingly tanned (still burning in patches because he refuses sunscreen like an idiot), orders the same thing, and remus makes time to sit with him for ten minutes between rushes
they talk about sirius’ london life, remus’ quiet coastal one, books, music, how sirius never learned to swim properly. remus teases him gently about his “posh” accent and sirius just smiles like a schoolgirl in response
one overcast afternoon when the cafe is quiet, remus drags sirius down to the pebble beach below the pier. he shows him how to swim, then makes sure he applies sunscreen properly this time, fingers lingering on sirius’ lower back a little longer than necessary
sirius turns around, sunburnt and brave, and kisses him right there with the sound of waves and gulls around them. remus tastes like salt air and sparkling rose lemonade
sirius becomes lowkey obsessed with bringing remus little gifts each morning. a smooth stone from the beach, a wildflower he picked on the cliff walk, chocolate from the fancy shop in swansea. remus keeps every single one behind the counter in a small jar. his mum notices and just smiles knowingly
he also starts bringing lunches for remus on busy days, slipping in cheesy notes that make remus grin like a fool. “staying in the shade like you said, pretty boy” or “burning again, but not from the sun”. remus pins them inside his wallet
late one evening after the cafe closes, remus takes sirius walking along the prom in the soft dusk light. sirius is finally a warm golden-brown instead of angry red, hair messy from sea wind
they stop at the end of the pier, sirius leaning on the railing, remus pressing up behind him with arms around his waist. sirius turns in his arms and they kiss slow and sweet, tasting like the ice cream they shared earlier
the potters adore watching it happen. euphemia keeps “accidentally” booking longer stays and telling sirius he needs more vitamin sea. james just sends sirius cheeky texts when he disappears to the cafe for the third time in a day
by the end of the summer sirius is tanned, relaxed, and completely in love. he’s already planning return visits, talking about “maybe getting a little place here next year”. remus, who never lets himself hope for tourists, finds himself believing in this one
their last breakfast is quiet and a little sad until remus slides a key to the flat above the cafe across the table (yes it’s reckless, yes they barely know each other, but what can a heart do). “not just for the summer”, he says softly. sirius kisses him over the table, burnt nose and all
it’s all golden light, sea air, peeling sunburns turning into memories, and two boys finding home in the most unexpected place
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