Chapter Text
Everything is eerily normal for how far away from home he must be. A bit futuristic, perhaps, given the tiny portable computer in his back pocket. And he’s fairly certain he’s in New York City. But it’s hardly the alien world he might’ve imagined a universe in the billions to be.
So what’s the catch?
He follows his rune to a bar called The Loup— not exactly the old man pub that is Remus’s usual scene. That’s the first sign that something is off. The next is the sight of Remus behind the DJ booth, wearing a band t-shirt under a suit blazer. A nice suit blazer. Odd.
And his set is good . A seamlessly blended mix of genres, oscillating between croudpleasers and more experimental music. Sirius even recognises a few of the songs—music so good it’s transcended eighty-one billion universes.
Between sets, Sirius finds Remus outside, smoking menthols.
He’s met with a glare. “Hey stalker.”
Is that a joke? He can’t tell. “Hey…”
“What’s up your arse? Or is that the problem?” Remus pouts mockingly, the harshness of it at odds with his singsongy Welsh accent. “Are you back to beg for my cock?”
“Er…”
“Go on then, prissy English cunt. Beg.”
So it’s a class thing, then. Probably? Though this Remus doesn’t exactly look like he’s struggling to pay rent. “I feel like maybe we got off on the wrong foot…”
Remus cocks his head, cigarette balancing between his teeth. “Yeah, and how would you like to get off?”
“Why don’t I take you out to dinner, and we can get to know each other?”
The bastard laughs. “Like I’d want to be seen in public with you.”
Now this annoys him. Because of all the things that can be said about him, he is undeniably hot and well-dressed, and this unshowered yet pretentiously-clothed version of his husband would be lucky to be seen with him. “I’m not the one wearing a bloody t-shirt with a suit jacket. And are those boat shoes? ”
Those pretty brown eyes light up, pupils dilating as though he’s on the verge of transformation. “This is Armani.”
Armani? What Remus would know that, let alone wear it, let alone brag about it? He feels a twinge of disgust. “I hope you know that makes it worse.”
“Oh you’re one of those posh boys, are you? You’ll let mummy and daddy pay for everything but don’t want anyone to know?”
His jaw clenches. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
Remus snorts, flicking his cigarette ash on Sirius’s shoes. “I’m just teasing. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” His eyes fall down pointedly, as though he’s expecting to see something there. Proven wrong, he frowns.
The sudden urge to shower comes over him. “Right. I will just… leave you to it then.”
“Thought you wanted to take me out to dinner,” Remus whines.
“I thought you weren’t a complete prick.”
“I thought you liked it.” Remus pouts around his cigarette, then blows a smoke ring in Sirius’s face. Misreading his raised brow, he grabs him by the belt.
“Look,” Sirius says sharply, pulling away. “I don’t know what you’re used to, but you don’t have to do this with me. I’d rather get to know you. The real you.”
Remus just stares at him for a moment, then chokes out a laugh. “Wow. That’s a good one.”
“I mean it.”
“One taste of my cock, and you’re going all romcom on me? That is so pathetic.”
“You’re pathetic!”
Eyes burning, Remus presses him up against the wall, deliberately rubbing his hard dick up against his thigh. Is this what they do? Is this their game? It can’t be particularly enjoyable for either of them. Sirius shoves him off.
A small whine escapes Remus’s throat, and he looks at him the way Moony looks at Padfoot when he won’t let him follow the delicious scent of human flesh.
“I’m sorry,” he says gently. “You’re very attractive, and underneath whatever this persona is, a lovely person, but I’m not interested in having sex with you.”
Remus looks amused, like he’s waiting for a punchline.
Sirius comes forward and sets a hand on his cheek, middle finger stroking behind the ear in a way that makes his Remus go mad. “Maybe you don’t think you’re worth more than that, but you are.”
“Fuck you,” Remus spits. “Fucking—”
He cuts him off with a kiss on the forehead. Get loved, idiot.
“Did you just give me a fucking forehead kiss?” he demands, absolutely livid. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Who the fuck do you think you are? he wants to scream because his husband has to be in there somewhere. Of all the different Remuses he’s seen, this one is by far the most baffling. A sudden bone-deep ache comes over him; he’s never missed his own Remus so badly. He knows he shouldn’t jump so soon, but there’s something clearly rancid about this world, and maybe his Remus will come to check on him if he does.
“Goodbye Remus.”
***
“It was terrifying, Moons,” he says, relishing the concerned look on Remus’s face. Well, the well-loved wolf stuffie’s face. This is a bit more what he expected of the universes this far out. “You were so mean and so… horny.”
“You mean I had horns?”
“No, I mean horny. And I think you wanted me to be mean and horny too.”
“But we were just normal people? And the universe was completely safe?”
“We were human, but we were very much not normal.” The wolf stuffie does not look convinced. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this, Moons. It was horrible.”
Remus nuzzles his soft cotton face against Sirius’s, the under-stuffed wolf curling around the significantly less floppy black dog. “I’m sorry, Pads.”
***
“Back to give me another forehead kiss?” Remus jeers from his bar stool, his matching shoes, socks, and slacks on full display.
What? “Why the fuck would I want my mouth on your gross sweaty forehead?”
Remus grins.