#look im almost mentally well enough to write fluff again
Remus came to with thunder that rolled through the forest air. It was the first crack of spring. He felt the rain soothing in his aching bones before feeling it on his skin. It was cool and welcoming for the way his body burned after a transformation.
The next thing he was aware of was being carried, steady and careful, across the grounds. Through what must have been a blanket wrapped around him, he pressed himself closer to the shoulder by his head.
He opened his eyes, and there was Sirius, stifling a yawn and watching the rain between them and the shack. The impervious charm over them both flickered in and out, Sirius struggling with the effort to wandlessly keep it up while also carrying Remus. “Fuck it,” Remus herd him mutter, and let the shield drop entirely, while trying to wrap the blanket tighter around him.
Should he be embarrassed? Of having to be carried bridal style, of getting treated like an ailing child? At a stronger moment he might have been, but in this hour of nothing but fuzzy affection, Remus thought, perhaps if he kept all his vulnerability boxed away save for one person, perhaps it could be fine.
Remus reached an arm around Sirius’ shoulder to hold himself up, watching a smile grow into the curling tracks of rain on his face as he realized Remus was awake.
“Morning Moons,” Sirius grinned down at him, soft with a dash of sheepish. “I told James and Pete to head back. Given the lovely weather.”
“Itisnice.” He breathed in deeply the cool fresh air, just a hint of wet dog. It almost cut through the exhaustion that shrouded his mind.
“Isn’t it nice being carried like a princess?”
Remus fought the urge to blush. If this was anyone but Sirius, he’d be mortified to death. “Oh yes, thank you ever so much my charming saviour,” he mumbled, then quickly added, “I can walk.”
“Hush, I will not hear of it,” Sirius said, rounded vowels mimicking Madame Pomfrey’s chiding tones. “Besides, that would ruin the pagan ritual I’m bringing you as a sacrifice for.”
Remus snorted, Sirius laughed. “What! It’s the first storm of spring!”
Blinking away the rain, Remus returned his gaze. Sirius was grinning at him, small and lopsided, water rounding his sharp chin, straight nose, and dripped from his curls which, drenched, hung in delicate strands framing his face.
There was just the two of them, alone out on the empty, on the slip of ground outside the forest. Remus in Sirius’ arms, their backs against the darkened woods and facing a sun nowhere to be found. Sirius stopped walking. All round them stretched the crisp mutter of rain, falling in pearly strings in the windless translucent air. And the whole world was the colour of Sirius’ eyes.
In a sudden rush of clarity that rang through his head like an ancient bell from miles and miles away, Remus dared not hesitate before he reached up to Sirius with both hands and brought their lips together.
Remus was immediately drunk with it, Sirius’ muffled noise of surprise melted so quickly into responding to the kiss. They couldn’t contain their smiles, stretching wide and etching rain into each other’s lips. The blanket was sliding off his shoulder, and Remus had his hands in his hair, tracing a damp brow, rubbing circles on his chin. Then Sirius was putting him down so his hands were free to cup the back of his neck, draw the blanket back around him, smooth down his shoulder, his back, holding close round his waist.
When they drew apart, it was slowly with absolute awe in their eyes. It then occurred to Remus to wonder, because what did he have to lose but what seemed like the whole world? How much dare he risk when he’d no idea what they would be? Except— he did, he did. He saw the look in Sirius’ eyes behind the damp lashes, he felt Sirius’ fingers, featherlight on his chin.
“You knew?” Sirius asked quietly, undrowned-out by the rain.
“No. Did you?”
“Course not,” a smile twitched at his lips, “now I do.”
“Now we do.”
