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Comments on: “Episode Five of Great British Bake Off 2022: What You Missed”

yee2thehaw: why are they starving us of wolfstar???? we only got one interaction in the last episode wtf

SiriusBlackIsSmexy78: @yee2thehaw it feels homophobic

ChocolateHobNob: @yee2thehaw To be fair the interaction we got was horny af. “Girthy.” I screamed.

underproveddough: @ChocolateHobNob YES WTF i’ve been a hopeful stan since day 1, but this last episode convinced me that something’s actually going on between them lol. just watch sirius’s face any time the judges are talking to remus XD

yee2thehaw: @underproveddough EXAMPLES I NEED EXAMPLES

underproveddough: @yee2thehaw  [photo of Sirius smirking at Remus as the judges taste his mille feuille. Sirius’s gaze undeniably heated]

underproveddough: @yee2thehaw  [photo of Sirius beaming as Lily announces Remus is star baker]

underproveddough: @yee2thehaw  and, of course, the diamond of my collection: [photo of Remus, blushing, and staring into Sirius’s eyes and smiling softly as Sirius talks. He looks hopelessly in love]

yee2thehaw: @ underproveddough WOLFSTAR SAILSSSSS EVERYBODY ABOARD

remus4starbaker: ARTHUR T_T

ILoveEggs: @remus4starbaker When Remus started crying, I started crying!

remus4starbaker : @ILoveEggs sirius’ speech had me in tears. The TIES.

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***

For the sixth week in a row, Remus finds himself back in the Lake District. Only this time, there’s a sense of finality in the air. A confusing combination of emotions battle for dominance in Remus’s chest: nervousness, excitement, relief, and, perhaps most pertinent of all, sadness —sadness that this is the final, the end , and that after Sunday he won’t have any reason to come back.

That evening finds Remus in the hotel’s garden gazebo, eyes closed, beneath the newly blooming wisteria. The last vestiges of evening sunlight are warm on his cheek, and the slight breeze carries with it the alluring scents of heather, thyme, and wisteria.

Remus sighs. Instead of thinking about the future or the past, he, for once, lets himself live in the present. He tries to empty his head of all thoughts other than what he feels, smells and hears in that moment. Remus tries to commit every sensation to his memory: the birdsong, the sunlight, and the smell of the flowers. He wants to make sure that, even if he never comes back, he remembers everything.

He opens his eyes and gazes at the stone exterior of the hotel, with its thatched roof and the ivy climbing its facade. He inclines his head to the right to see Lake Windermere and her mountains, the distant village of Bowness-On-Windermere, and the rolling hills that he’d explored with Sirius. 

All the way back in cake week, Remus remembers thinking that Lake Windermere would be a wonderful place to come to die. Now, Remus thinks it’d be a wonderful place to simply be : to write, to read, to bake, and to live . The lake, her mountains, and the tranquillity of it all has nestled into Remus’s core and made a home there. It’s all a part of him now. It will be until the day he dies.

He closes his eyes again and exhales.

It’s then that he also hears a gentle huff of breath. “Oh.”

His eyes fly open. Sirius . 

It’s the first time he’s seen Sirius since last week. Since their phone call. Since everything that’s passed between them. There’s so much that Remus wants to say to Sirius; words that demand to be released and spoken. Some of them have been said already, like I want you . But then there are other words; words that Remus holds close to his chest but desperately wants to set free . Words like I love you .

Sometimes, Remus thinks he’s imagined Sirius, and this is one of those moments. Sirius stands in the entrance of the gazebo, framed by blooming wisteria, as the last vestiges of sunlight beam through the trees, lighting Sirius up from behind. Remus can’t see Sirius’s features, but he knows it’s him. He’d know Sirius anywhere, Remus thinks; in this life, and every other.

At that thought, all of the air leaves Remus’s lungs.

Sirius’s features are hazy from the bright light behind him, but Remus thinks he sees a smile. “Fancy seeing you here,” Sirius says, his voice soft.

“Great minds,” Remus murmurs.

The space between them feels tense: the distance coiled and bound like a rope, constantly tugging and pulling them closer together.

Sirius is the first to act on it. He moves towards Remus, and with every step he takes, Remus’s heart beats just a little bit faster. By the time that Sirius is standing in front of Remus, his heart beat flutters like that of a mouse.

Up close, Remus can see the intensity of Sirius’s gaze. He watches as emotions flicker behind Sirius’s grey eyes as he reaches out to cradle Remus’s face with his hand. Like his gaze, his touch is electric, and it sends Remus shuddering, skidding off the edge and into the unknown. It feels as if everything, every part of him, is narrowed down and concentrated to the place where his and Sirius’s skin meets: to his fingertips on Remus’s jaw.

Remus stares at the gentle curve of Sirius’s mouth. He watches it curl up at the corner as if Sirius can’t quite help it. The swirling emotion in Sirius’s eyes seem to deepen then, and Remus recognises heat and awe, but there’s something else there too—something that’s harder to put a name on. It terrifies and excites Remus. It feels large and deep and expansive: beautiful and terrifying all at once. 

“So,” Sirius murmurs. “The final.”

“The final,” Remus agrees, his voice barely above a whisper as he raises his hands to Sirius’s hips. His hold is gentle enough that Sirius could easily step out of it if he wanted to. But instead of moving back, Sirius moves closer, so that he’s standing between Remus’s open legs, Remus’s knees either side of him. Despite their proximity, the invisible rope that binds them together feels as though it’s coiled tighter than ever before.

Sirius swallows and Remus tracks the movement, his gaze going down down down …

“And… after…” Sirius trails off, biting his lip. Then, he watches as Sirius’s teeth let go of the skin, leaving little indentations behind. Remus thinks wildly how he wants to smooth over it with his tongue. Smooth it. Soothe it.

“After?”

“I’ve booked a room here,” Sirius whispers. “For three nights.”

Heat so sharp and strong blossoms through Remus’s core. Three nights. Three days. For them. Here, amongst the flowers and trees and mountains. Together .

“Oh,” Remus says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is that so?”

Sirius smiles, and it’s a coy lift of his mouth. “Mhm.”

Remus stares at Sirius’s lips and he thinks maybe . No one’s here to see them. He could kiss Sirius. Just a taste. No more.

No more … 

But then, says a voice at the back of Remus’s mind, after all this waiting and trepidation, there’s no way that he could stop at just a kiss. Not with the tension that’s built up between them. He’s certain that even a small peck would send Remus hurtling over the edge.

But then Sirius’s lips part, and any hesitation or thoughts like we shouldn’t do this are banished to the back of his mind. Remus leans up, up, up, as Sirius looks down at him, transfixed…

In the distance, there’s loud, raucous laughter. It’s distant, but it’s close enough that it breaks the spell, and the tightly coiled rope releases as Sirius drops his hand. Remus’s skin continues to tingle, as if Sirius has left behind an impression of his touch on Remus’s skin. Remus idly hopes that he has.

Remus lets go of Sirius’s hips, but it’s a reluctant movement. He thinks Sirius is about to step away and out of his reach. 

Instead, he leans down, his lips brushing against Remus’s ear. Remus can feel the puff of Sirius’s breath against his skin as he whispers, ”Until then… I’ll be in my bed every night, thinking of you.”

Then Sirius pulls away. And walks out of the gazebo without a backward glance.

Remus sits there, stunned into silence, as the sun sets. He’s vaguely aware of the things that are happening around him. At one point, Minerva walks past the gazebo and double-takes as she sees Remus. “Oh. Hello Remus!” she says, and all he can manage in response is a vague wave. 

His brain is gooey. It’s molten.

And the sky is well and truly dark by the time he makes it to his room.

Remus wakes up on Saturday morning feeling hot and tingly with memories of dreams featuring dark hair and panting breaths.

And once he gets to the tent, that feeling increases by tenfold. 

Sirius seems to have made it his mission to drive Remus wild . He keeps brushing past Remus’s bench when no one’s looking, with coy looks, heated gazes, and all of these little touches . 

Sirius runs his finger along Remus’s back as he brushes past him, whispering, “I love the tie. Very sexy,” before sauntering off.

In an act of protest against Arthur’s elimination, Mary, Peter, and Remus are all wearing printed ties a la Arthur. Mary’s is embroidered with strawberries, Peter’s with cabbages, and Remus’s with hens. As he’d looked in the mirror that morning, Remus had thought the tie just made him look goofy.

As Sirius’s ice-hot gaze travels up and down his body, Remus wonders if maybe he’d judged the tie too harshly.

In response to Sirius’s flirtations, Remus is a storm of energy. Unlike the week before, where his attraction to Sirius had clouded his thoughts and made him slow, this week it makes him work faster and more efficiently. Pent-up energy thrums beneath his skin, and he pours it into his baking. 

Well. Into baking and teasing Sirius. Two can play at this game , Remus thinks to himself. Sirius wants to drive him crazy? Well. Remus is more than happy to return the favour.

As Remus stalks across the tent to retrieve some butter from the fridge, he makes sure to press himself up against Sirius’s back. 

“Sorry,” he breathes into Sirius’s ear, squeezing Sirius’s hip as he brushes past. “Tight fit.”

He watches Sirius shiver, watches as his cheeks go pink. And then Remus pulls back, saunters over to the fridge, and smirks back at Sirius as he watches Remus with burning eyes.

Later, Remus whisks the cream that will fill his profiteroles, and he makes sure that Sirius is watching when he licks the cream from his spoon, tasting it. He even closes his eyes for added effect, and when he opens them again, it’s to see Sirius staring at him with his mouth open. Remus can’t tell from where he’s standing, but he’s sure Sirius’s pupils are blown wide.

Remus is sure his own pupils are too.

“Wow,” Mary comments from beside him. “Are you quite finished?”

Her voice startles Remus slightly and he drops the spoon. “Oh, um. Hello Mary.”

She snorts. “Tastes good, does it?”

Remus nods.

“It certainly looked like it,” Mary smirks. And then she turns to look at Sirius, and they both watch as he stares into space while Lily talks to him, his cheeks attractively flushed. Unbidden, Remus’s mind is flooded with images of Sirius beneath him, with that same expression, saying please in the same sweet way that he’d moaned it through the phone…

Mary snorts. “Hopeless!”

“What’s gotten into you today?” Peter asks a little later, as Remus stalks past his bench to put his pastry cream in the fridge. “You’re all… concentrated. And commanding. It’s quite sexy.” And then his face changes, as if he’s had a thought.

Peter darts a glance to Sirius, whose grey eyes are fixed intently on Remus, and then back to Remus. Peter snorts. “Oh, I see.”

Instead of spluttering and trying to deny it, as Remus usually would, he winks at Peter. 

About halfway through the challenge, Sirius and Lily come by Remus’s bench with a disgruntled Severus trailing behind them.

As Severus fiddles with his camera, Lily says, “Sirius is under strict orders to behave. Aren’t you, Sirius?”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Off to a great start,” Severus mutters under his breath, frowning as he adjusts the lens.

“Maybe I just need the right person to order me around,” Sirius says, grey eyes glinting with mischief. 

Remus smiles slowly. “Perhaps that can be arranged.”

Lily groans. “ Please , you two. For the love of god.”

Behind Lily, Mary giggles. “Good luck, Lily!” She says in a sing-songy way.

“They don’t pay me nearly enough for this,” Lily mutters as Severus hauls the camera onto his shoulder, motioning that he’s ready to start filming.

“So, Remus,” Lily says. “It’s the final! How are you feeling?”

Remus finds it difficult to focus on anything that Lily says to him when Sirius is looking at him.

Somehow, miraculously, Remus manages to drag his eyes away from Sirius. He offers a weak smile to Lily. “Excited… and nervous too, yeah. But mostly I’m thankful. I honestly didn’t expect to make it this far.”

“And you’ve been star baker not only once, but twice ! How does that feel?”

“Pretty magical, yeah. This whole thing has been a bit of a dream come true.”

“What’s been the best part?” Sirius asks. 

You , Remus wants to say. Instead, he says, “The people. I know I’ve made some lifelong friends.” He smiles. 

Despite the crackling tension between him and Sirius, Remus manages to stay on task for the challenge. So well on task, in fact, that he finishes ahead of time and is able to help a frazzled and pink-cheeked Peter arrange his croquembouche before the time is up.

As Lily calls out, “Time’s up, bakers!” Peter drops to the ground and spreads out like a starfish. He has caramel in his hair, his tie is askew, and his clothes are smeared with chocolate. He looks defeated. But it’s done; the signature is done. 

Remus lays down beside Peter and nudges him with his elbow. 

Peter opens his eyes, turning to look at him. 

“We did it,” Remus smiles.

Peter groans again and Remus laughs. He winds their fingers together and squeezes Peter’s hand. Peter squeezes back.

The atmosphere in the tent is confusing in the lead up to the first judging of the final weekend. As is usual with every judging, the air is tight with tension. This time, however, the tension feels sharper and more precise. Remus knows that all of them are thinking the same thing: this is the final. This is their last chance. Today, any little slip up that might otherwise pass under the radar could instead cost them the title of the winner of the Great British Bake Off.

They begin with Mary.

Mary’s croquembouche is arranged to resemble a cherry blossom tree. The profiteroles on the lower half are covered in dark chocolate to resemble a tree trunk. Up top, the rest have been dipped in what Remus assumes is a vegan white chocolate, some coloured with strawberry powder. The result is a dappling of white and pink blossoms. 

It’s stunning. Which is the first thing that the judges point out.

“So, Mary,” Minerva starts. “This looks absolutely stunning. I’m particularly impressed with how you’ve managed to keep this standing up. Usually, a croquembouche gets smaller towards the top, but yours has gotten larger!”

As Minerva says this, one of the blossom coloured profiteroles detaches itself from the croquembouche and hits Mary’s bench with a gentle ‘thwack.’

“Oh dear; I appear to have jinxed it,” Minerva says.

Mary giggles. 

Albus plucks the profiterole off the bench with his thumb and forefinger, and pops it into his mouth. “ Delicious . Is that yuzu?” Mary nods. “Can’t even tell it’s vegan!”

Minerva tuts at Albus. “You always have to be the first to taste them, don’t you? No patience!”

Minerva selects a profiterole for herself and bites into it. “Delicious,” she says, her eyes glittering. “I agree with Albus; I’d have no clue that’s vegan if you hadn’t told me!”

“I’m impressed, Mary,” Albus says. “As you know, I’m usually not the biggest believer in vegan baking, but this is divine.”

Mary blushes. “Thank you so much.”

Next up is Peter.

“Wow,” Minerva says. “It’s a pastry mountain!”

“Literally,” Albus says, chuckling.

Indeed, Peter’s croquembouche is modelled to resemble a mountain. Like a classic croquembouche, it’s built upwards in a pyramid shape. At the bottom, the profiteroles are shades of dark green, moving upwards into shades of brown and umber. At the top, the profiteroles are dipped in white chocolate and desiccated coconut.

“I love it,” Minerva says honestly. “It cuts a very striking image. There’s a problem, though... I believe we asked that all profiteroles be covered.”

“We did,” Albus agrees. “And do I see… a hole in the centre?” 

“Yes,” Peter says proudly, procuring a small black remote with a red button from his pocket. He hands it to the judges. “Press this,” he instructs them, grinning.

Minerva and Albus look at each other, twin expressions of bemusement on their faces. When Minerva presses the red button, everything is silent for a moment.

“Er,” Peter says nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Um. Hold on…”

And then, just as he’s about to lean in to inspect his croquembouche, there’s a mechanical noise. Then molten ruby chocolate spills forth, like lava, cascading down the croquembouche and covering the profiteroles.

Minerva gasps and Albus chuckles. Remus grins, pride coursing through him. Remus thinks that Peter's a genius; it's about time that everyone else thinks so too.

“It’s a bit messy,” Peter apologises, shifting from one foot to another. “Sorry about that…”

“It is,” Minerva agrees. “But what fun!”

“Once again, Peter, you’ve shown what an eye for creativity and invention you have!”

“But, as for finesse...”

They all look to the edge of Peter’s bench, where ruby chocolate drips onto the floor.

“Well.”

“Lovely, Remus. It’s lovely,” Minerva says, and she sounds like she means it. “What a beautiful sentiment for the final.”

Remus’s croquembouche is classic, but with a twist. He’s carefully decorated each of the profiteroles to resemble different bakes that they’ve made throughout the competition. Among others, there’s victoria sponge, pavlova, cardamom buns, and little choux bread baskets.

“This sugar work is clever,” Minerva says, gesturing to the sugar bunting flags that weave around the croquembouche. “When I think of Bake Off, I certainly think of the flags!”

Remus smiles.

“Are these scones?” Minerva asks Remus, who nods. “Am I missing something? Was there a challenge with scones?”

Albus hums. “No, I don’t believe there was.”

Sirius coughs. “Sorry,” he says. “Something in my throat.”

“That’s, er. I just… really like them,” Remus says. He can feel the tips of his ears getting warm.

It’s not as if it’s a big secret, or something that he’s ashamed of, but Remus feels oddly protective of the memory of Sirius and him making scones in the hotel kitchens. He doesn’t like the idea of letting other people into it.

Minerva smiles knowingly at him. His blush deepens. “Lovely," she says. "Just lovely.”

“Alright my lovely bakers,” Sirius says. “It’s time for your last ever technical challenge. I’m sure you’re all feeling a mixture of emotions right now. Sadness that it’s our last time together like this; relief that Albus won’t be able to torture you anymore with his tricky little technicals…”

“This week, you’ve been asked to make a savoury pie. Peter and Remus’s filling will be made of pork, while Mary’s will have a suitable vegan alternative. Here, you’ll have to call on your cooking skills as well as your baking skills,” Lily says.

Remus’s stomach drops. Cooking . He’d been afraid of this: afraid of when the judges would ask them to implement cooking in their baking. And it’s just his luck that it happens to be in the final . 

Remus can feel Sirius looking at him. Remus stares at the ground. He knows exactly what Sirius is thinking because Remus is thinking the exact same thing.

Still, he tries to banish thoughts of burnt water and pasta sauce to the back of his mind. He can do this. He can. As long as he follows the recipe, he’ll be fine .

There’s no recipe. Remus shouldn’t be surprised, not this late in the competition. Yet he is.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck .” 

He closes his eyes and takes ten measured, deep breaths. Momentarily, he feels better, feels the rising anxiety in his chest subside. Until he opens his eyes again and sees the words ‘make filling’ .

Remus can feel himself losing hold of his thoughts. He desperately pictures a pool of water, and imagines that his thoughts are simply ripples on the surface. He needs to gently ease the ripples, to still them, so that he’s able to see the bottom of the pool. But then, the pool morphs into a river and, suddenly, he’s in the thick of the rapids, trying to wade upstream. He tries to grab on to branches, but they’re wet and impossible to hold on to. He slips.

From there, it’s a rapid slide into panic.

Remus doesn’t know how long he stands there, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to ground himself. His body feels fuzzy and floaty as panic rises in his chest.

Oh no, he thinks. Not now.

He thinks he hears his name being called, but it sounds like it’s coming through a wall, from another room. Even his vision is blurry, and all that he’s aware of is how his heart thunders in his chest, too fast and too loud. Everything feels too bright and too much. He can’t breathe.

A cool hand grasps his wrist and gently leads him away. Away from the light, the noise, the people, and the panic . Remus lets himself be led. His eyes are squeezed shut; he doesn’t know whose hand it is, but he knows he can trust them. He knows he’s safe.

A warm breeze kisses his face, cool against the sweat that’s collected on his brow. He smells flowers—wisteria, heather, roses, and honeysuckle. He smells leaves and hot earth. And then he smells saffron. Sirius .

Remus exhales and opens his eyes.

Sure enough, Sirius is standing in front of him. He’s pulled Remus under the same tree as the week before, only this time, instead of a smirk, he wears an expression of concern.

“Remus,” Sirius says gently. “Deep breaths, okay?”

Remus nods, trying to exhale slowly, but his chest is tight and constricted. He gasps for air, trying to keep his breaths slow and deep, but his lungs are starving. 

Sirius gently grasps Remus’s hand and puts it on his chest, holding it there.

“Breathe with me,” he says.

Remus’s fingers curl into Sirius’s shirt, tugging on the fabric and pulling it down slightly to expose his collarbones and the tattoos underneath. Even through the anxiety and fear, he feels a little flutter in his stomach at the sight of them. 

The rest of him, however, is focused on breathing and on matching Sirius’s breaths. Sirius breathes slowly, deeply, and steadily.

Remus feels himself come back in increments: his vision sharpens and becomes less fuzzy, his muscles relax and the white noise fades, leaving him with birdsong and the sound of the wind as it dances against the leaves of the trees.

“Better?” Sirius asks gently. Remus’s hand is still held up to Sirius’s chest, but their hands are curled together now, holding each other. Remus can feel Sirius’s heartbeat. It’s racing.

Remus nods.

“Good,” Sirius smiles.

Sirius takes Remus to see Poppy, who looks over Remus with concern. He’s not able to form his mouth around words just yet, but he shakes his head furiously at her suggestion of him sitting the technical challenge out. Reluctantly, she concedes to him continuing the challenge, but she demands that he be brought back to her if he shows any other signs of an impending panic attack. Remus begrudgingly nods in agreement.

And now, back at his bench, Remus takes long, measured breaths as he tries to read the instructions.

Just as Remus is measuring the right ingredients, and trying to stop his thoughts from spiralling, a cup of tea appears in front of him. He looks up in surprise to see Mary.

Her brown eyes are warm with concern as she says, “Alright? I’m here for you, love. I’m here to help, okay?”

Remus nods. He still doesn’t think he’s able to speak. Not yet. Mary seems to understand this, and instead of waiting for him to reply, she moves around his bench and pulls him into a hug. Her perfume—mandarin and clove—calms him. It grounds him, and he clings to her smaller frame.

When Remus pulls back, it’s to discover Mary with her eyes narrowed, flashing the v sign to someone over Remus’s shoulder. 

Remus’s eyes widen, and he looks at her in question—he’s surprised to see Mary with an expression of such open-faced dislike.

“Severus,” she says in explanation. “Lily told me that if I swear or make rude gestures, they can’t air the footage.” She grins.

Remus blinks. And then he laughs. He knows that he probably sounds like a strangled cat, his laugh all distorted and strange from the tightness in his chest, but Mary looks pleased nonetheless.

Then, Mary helps Remus get his bench back in order—he’d knocked over the bag of flour in his earlier panic—before giving him gentle instructions to help him navigate the rest of the technical. It’s nothing that could quite be interpreted as cheating, but it’s enough that it helps Remus to stay focused and to fight off the waves of panic before they seize him again. 

At one point, Peter comes over to help as well. 

“I’ve got him,” Peter says softly to Mary. “You finish up. I’ll help Rem.”

Like Mary, Peter doesn’t try to coax words from Remus; he simply guides Remus where he needs to be, and makes sure that there’s always a cup of tea in front of him. 

“It’s decaf,” Peter informs him with a grin. “Nothing worse than caffeine jitters!”

Remus simply smiles in thanks.

The judges agree to extend the time of the challenge for all three contestants, and thus, with the help of his friends, Remus finishes his pie. It’s not great—compared to the other two, something about Remus’s pie both looks and smells off, which is not at all helped by the way that the fat has cracked through the side of the pie, giving it a lop-sided appearance. But it’s done , Remus reminds himself.

Still, it stings when he places last. The judges are harsh. Their harshness doesn’t surprise Remus, especially not now that it’s the final, but nonetheless, shame leaves Remus with burning cheeks and an increasingly hollow feeling in his chest. 

Albus’s blue gaze seems to strip him bare, and when Minerva asks him what happened, Remus can only shrug. She looks as if she’s about to question him further before Sirius intercepts. 

Mary and Peter lace their fingers with his. He feels warm with gratitude, which helps to make the uncomfortable feeling that’s settled in Remus’s chest dissipate somewhat. 

Somewhat, but not completely .

***

———

Saturday, 5:04pm

Padfoot: how are you feeling? x

Seen at 8:14pm

———

Sirius paces the length of his hotel room.

It’s been three hours and Sirius hasn’t heard from Remus at all. Sirius is worried. 

Part of him wonders if he’s being dramatic, if he’s just overblowing this whole thing. Maybe Remus is just tired? Perhaps he’s just asleep? Regulus was always knackered for days after his anxiety attacks…

But when Sirius pictures Remus’s expression during the technical—pinched, pained, and as if he was trying his hardest not to cry—he knows in his gut that he’s not overthinking anything.

So Sirius grabs his jacket and runs out the door.

He’s out of breath by the time that he’s knocking on Remus’s door. There’s a strange sense of deja vu, as Sirius remembers the week before, standing in front of Remus’s door and feeling like he was about to explode. Only this time, he’s not about to explode, and it’s not Sirius who needs help: it’s Remus.

Just as Sirius is about to knock again, hand poised in mid air, Remus opens the door. His red-rimmed eyes widen as they take in Sirius. Sirius’s heart throbs painfully at the sight.

“Hi,” Sirius breathes. He holds up a copy of Peter Rabbit that he nabbed from the hotel foyer on the way to Remus’s room. “I thought you might want company.”

Remus is silent for a long moment. He watches Sirius carefully, as if he’s trying to figure something out. 

And then he nods and moves to the side to let Sirius into his room.

Sirius suppresses a shudder as he brushes past Remus. Now’s not the time for that , he reminds himself. Remus is hurt .

Still, he can’t help his affectionate smile as he takes in the chaos of Remus’s room. Just as with Sirius’s spare room, Remus has made the hotel room his own. It looks as if a Remus-shaped bomb has gone off, corduroy and wool shrapnel splintered and covering every surface.

Remus is silent beside him, so Sirius decides to take charge, sitting himself down on Remus’s bed with his back against the headboard. He looks up at Remus and pats the space beside him. 

Remus bites his lip before he hesitantly reclines beside Sirius.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sirius asks quietly. Aside from the sound of their breathing, all is silent. Hushed.

Remus sighs and stares out the window. In the distance, the mountains are lit up by the sunlight; the peaks glowing gold pyramids.

Remus turns back to Sirius and shakes his head.

“Okay,” Sirius says. “Okay.”

So he pulls out the copy of Peter Rabbit that he swiped from reception and opens it to the first page. “Ready to hear about the adventures of Peter Rabbit, Moony?”

Remus’s lips part and he lets out a quiet huff of breath that Sirius interprets as laughter. Then, he lays back and Sirius begins to read. 

Sirius finds himself getting lost amongst the pages, the story, and its characters. But even more, he finds himself getting lost in the little noises that Remus makes: the quiet huffs of laughter, and his hushed noises of surprise and curiosity. With each little noise, Sirius can feel his heart expanding over and over and over.

Halfway through the book, Remus’s breathing slows, and Sirius looks over to see him with his eyes closed. He imagines tracing the constellations of freckles that adorn Remus’s cheeks with his fingertip. He imagines counting each one.

He doesn’t. Instead, he closes the book, places it on the bedside table, and shuffles down so that he’s laying on his side, facing Remus. He’s the most beautiful thing Sirius ever seen— and ever will see says a tiny voice at the back of Sirius’s head. With his too-large nose, his pink lips, his angular jaw and cheekbones. The scar on his brow. The scar that wraps around his neck, that Sirius’s eyes trace down, beneath the collar of Remus’s woollen jumper. 

Sirius swallows. He knows what that scar tastes like. How it feels under his lips and under his tongue. He wonders, not for the first time, where Remus got his scars. How he got his scars. He wonders how much they hurt. He wishes he could take that hurt away from Remus. He wishes he could take all the hurt away from Remus.

And so, with that thought, and the sound of Remus’s breathing beside him, Sirius closes his eyes and lets the soft fuzz of sleep take over.

***

When Remus’s eyes flutter open, sunlight has just begun to stream through the window. He exhales. He feels absolutely exhausted. 

The previous day's events come back to him in parts. He remembers the signature challenge, Sirius , the disastrous technical challenge, Sirius , and the shame and grief that had settled in afterwards, threatening to swallow him whole…

Remus goes to bury his face in his pillow, but it feels odd. It’s firm. Has a heartbeat. It rises and falls with each breath. It smells delicious and familiar: like saffron, leather, and violet... Sirius .

Remus exhales sharply. Exhaustion aside, warmth ripples through his body as he notes all the places that he and Sirius are touching, from their tangled legs to the hand in his hair, its fingers gently stroking Remus’s scalp.

Remus slowly lifts his head and his tired gaze instantly meets Sirius’s. This early in the morning, Sirius’s grey gaze holds a softness and vulnerability that he’s only caught glimpses of in the past.

Sirius smiles at him as his hand continues stroking soothing circles against Remus’s scalp. “Hey,” he says softly. He lifts his other hand to brush the curls out of Remus’s eyes, and even just fresh from sleep, Sirius is beautiful in a way that takes Remus’s breath away.

“Hey,” Remus breathes, his voice rough from lack of use.

“This isn’t quite how I imagined the first time waking up in your bed.” Sirius winks.

Remus’s cheeks heat up. “Um… sorry.”

“What for?”

“For falling asleep on you.” Remus swallows. “For last night.”

Sirius’s hand stills. “Remus,” he says quietly, softly. “Don’t apologise. You can say anything to me, but please don’t apologise.”

“Oh.”

“And besides,” Sirius says, now smiling, “it was my pleasure serving as your pillow for the night.” He stretches his arms above his head. “The first of many times, hopefully.”

Remus ducks his head to hide his smile. And then, he finds words tumbling from his lips before he can stop them. “I felt like a failure,” Remus says softly, laying his head back on Sirius’s chest, his heartbeat soothing and steady in Remus’s ear. “Yesterday. I know I said I didn’t care about winning. I truly didn’t think I did, but…”

Sirius’s hand cards through Remus’s hair, fiddling with the curls at the nape of his neck. It sends tingles up and down Remus’s spine. “Of course you care, Remus. Don’t punish yourself for caring.”

“It’s more why I care. I think… I thought I’d be proving something if I did win. To my Dad.”

“Proving what?” Sirius asks softly. 

“Proving that I’m worthy. That I’m worth being proud of.”

Sirius’s hand stills. “Remus…” he starts. 

“But the thing is… I’m not even sure winning would do any good. Not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… if I won, I might feel worthy for a little while... but what about after? Then I’d need another thing to prove that I’m worthy. And then another, and another, and then it’s not even about me, or my Dad, anymore. It’s about everyone else.”

Remus closes his eyes, lets the scent of saffron and violet envelop him, and continues.  “I think I need to learn how to find that inside myself. I need to learn to feel worthy. Not because other people tell me I am, but because I genuinely believe it.”

Sirius laces their fingers together and lifts their hands to his mouth, brushing his lips over Remus’s knuckles. Remus shuffles his head so that he can gaze up at Sirius, at his sea-foam eyes and dark lashes.

“It’s difficult though,” Remus says. “After yesterday, I feel like all the progress that I’ve made is gone. I feel like I just took 200 steps back.”

“Not back,” Sirius says, stroking his thumb over Remus’s skin. “Sideways. That progress isn’t gone; you still learned what you learned. You’ve just had a blip.”

“Yeah,” Remus breathes. “A pretty big blip.”

“Big or small, it still doesn’t take away from anything you’ve achieved.”

“Yeah… I guess. You’re right.” Then Remus sighs. “How are you so wise?”

“Therapy,” Sirius winks.

Remus laughs, and it’s a loud, jarring sound, but he struggles to find it within himself to care. Especially when Sirius joins in, and they’re laughing together, wrapped around one another in Remus’s hotel bed.

And then, when the laughter peels away and the quiet begins to set back into the room, Remus realises again how closely they’re intertwined, with their fingers laced and legs tangled together. Remus can tell that Sirius realises at the same moment that he does in the way that Sirius’s body tenses and he skips a breath. The mood in the room changes, a subtle shift from the sweet and gentle mood that’s hung over them since the night before to a familiar electric current that courses beneath Remus’s skin. 

Remus gazes up at Sirius, whose eyes dart between Remus’s eyes and lips. Remus knows they’re at the precipice of something yet again, for what feels like the millionth time. But, this time, the difference is that it’s not weeks that they have to stay apart; it's hours. And that makes it so much harder.

“Tonight,” Sirius whispers, as if reading Remus’s mind. “Tonight, Moony.” 

Unintentionally, Remus presses himself closer to Sirius, subconsciously trying to mould himself to the other man. In doing so, his upper thigh brushes up against Sirius. Sirius inhales sharply, his grey eyes wild and fixed on Remus. 

Remus bites his lip. He knows what he wants to do; knows that he wants to push Sirius back into the pillows, to kiss him so hard and so dizzyingly that they both forget every word except each other’s names, he wants …

Only it’s that precise moment, where Remus is grappling with an increasingly precarious line of thought, that Remus’s phone alarm goes off.

Remus rolls over and groans.

Beside him, Sirius exhales in a huff of air that sounds half like a laugh and half like a sigh. “Tonight,” he says, squeezing Remus’s hand.

“Tonight,” Remus agrees.

They take their time saying goodbye, both hovering around the door, reluctant to open it and pop the bubble that they’re inhabiting together. 

Finally, however, with a reluctant glance back at Remus, Sirius moves to leave.

Only when he opens the door, it reveals Marlene on the other side with her hand raised, clearly about to knock. 

Marlene’s hooded eyes widen for a split second as she takes in Sirius’s appearance—his flushed cheeks, rumpled clothes and messy hair—before she schools her expression into neutrality. She fixes Remus with a quick and firm expression that says we’re talking about this later.

Remus watches Sirius’s stormy eyes take in Marlene’s shaggy blonde hair and tattoos, and he makes a special note of the curiosity that he sees in Sirius’s gaze. In a lot of ways, they appear as opposites, with Marlene’s hair bleach-blonde against Sirius’s onyx, and her warm fawn skin against his pale alabaster. But rather than clashing, they appear inverted: the same but different.

And Remus watches, with particular fascination, as what looks like understanding passes between them. 

Sirius turns back to Remus. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

Remus nods, trying his very hardest not to smile: not to smile at how right it had felt waking up next to (or on top of, rather) Sirius, and how good it feels knowing that he’ll be doing it again tomorrow morning… albeit in very different circumstances.

“Yeah,” Remus says. “See you soon, Pads.”

At that, Sirius dips out, squeezing past a very amused looking Marlene who pins Remus again with that same sharp look.

“So,” she says once the door is closed. “Sirius Black. In your bed.” And then, “He’s even hotter in person. How the fuck is he hotter in person?”

“It’s genuinely not what it looked like.”

Marlene snorts. “Okay, so I didn’t just see him leaving your room? Looking rumpled and flushed? Or did I just imagine that?”

Remus feels the tips of his ears heating up. “We didn’t do anything.”

“Mm, I’m sure. Just engaged in some more hot phone sex. While laying beside each other.” Marlene leans against the wall, smirking.

“Marlene…”

“What?” she grins. “I’m happy for you, you goose egg.”

“We didn’t shag—seriously! Stop giving me that look!”

Marlene laughs and nudges his socked foot with her shoe. “So… if you didn’t shag… what did you do?”

Remus crosses his arms. “He… read to me. And then I fell asleep on him. And then we… talked.”

“Mmm, talked . I know how talking goes with you. Like the time you insisted that you were just going to Benjy’s to talk and then buttdialed me while he su—”

“This isn’t like that!” Remus insists, scrunching up his nose at the memory. “I swear. I… had a bit of a moment yesterday, during the technical.”

“What kind of moment?”

“Oh, you know,” Remus says in a way that he tries to pass off as breezy. “One of those moments where I stop functioning… and can't talk.”

“You had an anxiety attack,” Marlene says softly.

“Yes, I… yes. Anyway, I finished the challenge. But it was… not good. And neither was I. And he knew. So he came to keep me company.”

Marlene stares at him for a moment. “Rem…”

Remus shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but he can tell from Marlene’s assessing gaze that it doesn’t particularly well. “I just… well. We had to cook for the technical and you can imagine how that went…”

Marlene cringes. “A disaster.”

“Yeah. And I just… it all kind of hit me. I realised how much I wanted to win, and how much I needed to win to prove myself to Dad. To his memory.”

“You don’t have to prove anything, Rem.”

“Yeah, I know,” Remus smiles softly. “I know that now.”

“Good.”

Marlene steps forward and pulls Remus into her arms. “You’re brilliant, you know that right? Utterly brilliant. Even Sirius Black thinks so.”

Remus buries his face into the crook of her neck, and into the familiar rose and oud of her perfume. “Thanks Marl,” he says, voice muffled.

“I’m so proud of you. All those months ago, when you first got that email, you were so…”

“I was a ghost.” 

Marlene hums in agreement. “And now… look at you. You’re a star baker.” She punctuates the words ‘star’ and ‘baker’ each with a squeeze. “And a finalist.”

“Mmm…”

“And you’re spooning Sirius Black. While he reads to you.”

Remus laughs.

“You never told me, you know.”

Remus pulls back. “What?”

Marlene’s brown eyes sparkle with mischief. “What he smells like.”

Remus smiles at the memory of their conversation so many weeks ago. Back then, he never would’ve dreamed that he’d be where he is now; that he’d ever wake up with Sirius’s heartbeat in his ear. 

“Saffron,” Remus says softly. “He smells like saffron.”

On the last day of the final, all of the former contestants are invited back to the tent for a celebratory picnic. Also present is each contestant's family and close friends. And so, after ruthlessly mocking Remus for drooling on Sirius’s chest, Marlene leads him to the hotel foyer, where Hope and Dorcas are waiting for them.

Dorcas rushes forward to pull Remus into a tight hug. 

“Missed you, Remmy boy,” she mumbles into his shirt. Remus chuckles and drops a kiss to the top of her braided hair.

“So… you’ll never guess who I caught sneaking out of Remus’s room…” Marlene smirks. 

Remus groans. “Marl…”

“Was it a certain raven-haired rockstar?” Dorcas teases. “Beloved Bake Off presenter?”

“The very same,” Marlene says, grinning. “And he looked very rumpled. Debauched, one might even say…”

“Remus John Lupin !” Hope cries, her amber eyes narrowed. 

“Never fear, Hope,” Marlene says, “Remus assured me that it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“It wasn’t,” Remus insists. “We read Peter Rabbit for fucks sake!”

“Language!” Hope admonishes.

Marlene cackles.

Hope’s eyes are wide as she takes in the tent and the surrounding gardens. Remus doesn’t have much time before the showstopper starts, but he spends a little bit of that time getting Hope, Marlene, and Dorcas settled. Hope is brighter and bubblier than Remus has seen her in years, and she tells everyone who will listen that Remus is her son .

As Remus stands up to leave, she jumps to her feet and pulls him in for a hug. Then, she kisses his forehead and whispers, “Pob lwc! I’m so proud of you, cariad.” 

As he waits by his bench for the challenge to start, Remus feels a hand on his hip.

“Hey,” says a soft voice beside his ear. 

Remus turns to see a significantly less rumpled and sleepy looking Sirius than the one he’d said goodbye to earlier that morning. However, this Sirius’s smile is just as soft, and just as fond. Remus is certain that same expression is mirrored on his own face.

“You look like your Mum, you know,” Sirius says, leaning his hip against Remus’s bench. Remus tries not to think about how Sirius’s hip would feel beneath his palm. “Just… taller.”

“Mm, my Da was the absurdly tall one.”

“I like it.”

“Do you now?”

Sirius ducks his head, smiling. “You know I do,” he says softly, looking up at Remus through his eyelashes.

It’s then that Remus notices that Sirius has placed a cup of tea on the bench in front of him. It looks rather awful, frighteningly pale in colour, but he’s so deeply touched by the gesture that he doesn’t care one bit. 

He cradles the cup in his hands and takes a sip, swallowing down a wince at the taste: water and milk with the slightest suggestion of tea. Nonetheless, it’s the best cup of tea Remus thinks he’s ever had.

“I hope it’s okay,” Sirius says, hands fidgeting. “I’m not a tea drinker. I don’t know what you like.”

“This is perfect,” Remus lies. “Thank you,” he says softly, taking another sip. 

“My pleasure,” Sirius says, ducking his head again, and Remus can see pink staining the top of his cheekbones.

I love you , Remus thinks helplessly, and he feels the words bubble up his throat. Instead of saying them, however, he takes a hasty sip of his tea, swallowing the words back down with it.

***

“Welcome back, my lovely bakers, for the final challenge of 2022 Bake Off.”

“This is both a momentous and sad occasion,” Sirius says. “One that will probably make you want to cry and throw up at the same time.”

“Speaking from experience there, Sirius?” Lily asks.

“You know how I get after a few gins, Lils,” Sirius winks, and there’s a ripple of laughter throughout the tent.

”As much as I wish we could do this together forever, all good things must come to an end,” Lily says. “And, so, for our final showstopper challenge together in this tent, the judges have asked you all to create an edible 3d landscape that is covered by a meltable layer. This layer can be any shape that you choose, such as a dome or a pyramid, and it can be made out of any ingredient that you choose. But it must melt.”

“You each have six hours,” Sirius says. He catches Remus’s eye and holds it. It’s only a matter of hours now until Sirius can show Remus exactly how he feels about him, and the tension between them is rippling .

“On your mark.”

“Get set…”

“Bake!”

Sirius maintains a constant presence near Remus during the showstopper. But unlike the previous day, his touches aren’t intended to be flirtatious. Instead, they’re meant as a reminder, and as a grounding force for Remus. Remus had admitted to him that morning, with his eyes averted and cheeks an appealing shade of pink, that Sirius’s touch had helped him stay on task the day before.

“Even when I was… distracted , it still helped,” Remus had said, blushing attractively. “I just poured the extra energy into my baking, instead of… well. You know.”

Yes, Sirius did know. Does know. 

Sirius’s heart is in his throat as he watches Remus. His head is bowed, his curls hanging in his face, as he fiddles with whatever it is that he’s making—Remus told them exactly what he’d planned earlier, but he was also kneading pastry at the time, and Sirius had struggled to concentrate on anything other than Remus’s hands.

Remus’s tongue is poking out in concentration and he’s got chocolate on his cheek and in his hair. Even his tie is askew. Sirius can’t stop staring at him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Remus’s disarming beauty. And each time Remus’s brown eyes meet Sirius’s, they take Sirius’s breath away.

He thinks of the night before, of how Remus’s breath felt against his neck, how it had made him shiver. How all their near-touches have him more riled up than he’s ever been in his entire life: a frenetic kind of tension built up from passion and tenderness that’s set him aflame.

And beneath that is warmth. Pure warmth . 

That morning, after Sirius had left Remus’s room, James had taken one look at Sirius, at his blown pupils and manic grin, and had boldly asked if he was on crack.

“I spent the night in Remus’s bed ,” Sirius had breathed. “He drooled on my chest.”

James had simply laughed and said, “Ah, love: a far more addictive drug.”

Yes . That . 

Love .

Sirius loves Remus. He knows this now. It’s been a slow-building, impending realisation that’s hit him in bits and pieces, with each moment leading up to now woven together to form something warm, tender and so incredibly pure. 

From the very start, everything about Remus has felt different and inevitable, as if an invisible thread ties them together, gently tugging them closer to each other. And Sirius has discovered that he’s rather helpless to ignore that tug; to ignore Remus. 

As he watches Remus now, he can feel that same tugging sensation in his abdomen. He wants to be close to Remus. He wants to stay close to Remus. He remembers, early on in the competition, wondering if he and Remus had been friends in another life. Now, he can’t imagine another life where they’re just friends. He can’t imagine a life where he doesn’t want to sleep beside Remus every night, to kiss him, to make love to him, to sing songs to him, to write songs about him, to immortalise Remus with his words and with his voice.

Sirius can’t imagine a life where he meets Remus Lupin and doesn’t fall head over heels in love with him. 

Today, it’s Mary who breaks. She burns her finger and accidentally drops the cake that she’s spent the better part of the past hour working on. After that, the tears are close to follow.

Lily and Sirius move in sync.

Lily holds Mary, while Sirius kneels on the ground, assessing the damage. It’s not good. Still, he nabs a fork from a nearby cutlery drawer. Because even if he can’t fix the problem, he can offer her positive reinforcement. 

To his left, he hears Remus snort, and Sirius turns to wink at him.

“Like a dog,” Remus mouths, and Sirius flips him off.

Sirius brings the fork to his mouth. He chews. Then, he tilts his head to look up at Mary. “ Mary ,” he says, awed. “This is fucking delicious .”

Mary lets out a sound that sounds like a combination of a laugh and a sob, and Sirius goes back in for more. He’s meant to be reducing the amount of rich food that he eats that day in preparation for his night with Remus: a tough call, to be sure, but if it means he gets to ride Remus all night long, then a bit of baking feels like a fair sacrifice, Sirius thinks. 

Still, he simply can’t help himself with Mary’s cake.

“Sirius!” Lily hisses. “That’s well beyond the 3 second rule!”

“I don’t care,” Sirius says honestly. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

For now, he thinks wickedly. Until I get my mouth on Remus’s—

“Look at that, Mary,” Lily says. “You’ve got Sirius Black eating off of the floor .”

Mary giggles. “Sirius! Please stop!”

“I can’t,” he says honestly, around another mouthful. And then he coughs. “Eugh. I think I just swallowed a strand of hair.”

***

To Remus’s immense surprise, he manages to hold it together for the majority of the showstopper challenge. He has a shaky start, and has to talk himself back from the brink multiple times; but each time he feels himself careening out of control, there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder, forearm, or hip. Sirius . 

Sirius is a grounding presence throughout the entire showstopper. And to his amazement, not even four hours into the showstopper challenge, Remus feels like the technical challenge might as well have never happened at all. He feels calm, in control, and most of all, he feels hopeful—not hopeful that he’ll win, necessarily, but hopeful that he won’t make a complete arse of himself. That he’ll make himself proud. Seeing the pride and joy in Hope’s eyes had helped too: she’d looked so proud to even be there, telling anyone who would listen that Remus was her son .

Six hours later, and before Remus knows it, it’s the end of the showstopper challenge.

Today, the judges start with Peter.

Sirius helps Peter manoeuvre his landscape to the front of the tent, and Remus admires the way the movement makes Sirius’s biceps stand out under the sleeves of his t-shirt.

“Wow,” Minerva says, once Peter’s showstopper has been placed down in front of them. “What have we here?”

“It’s a rocket,” Albus says. “And I’m rather excited to see what’s inside. Minerva?”

Peter’s bake is on a stand that resembles the bottom part of a rocket. The top of the rocket has been made out of chocolate, even complete with a little window on the side, made out of sugar.

Minerva makes a show of pouring the hot custard over the chocolate nose of the rocket, which opens outwards to reveal a scene.

“Peter, this is…” Minerva begins.

“It’s visionary,” Albus says, looking up, his blue eyes bright. He laughs. “Rats in space. I didn’t know I needed it until now.”

“Care to explain the, er, inspiration for this?” Minerva asks.

Peter rubs the back of his neck, his ears pink. “I had a dream. Last Sunday, where I was a rat… in a rocket. It was very vivid. It felt like I was meant to have it, you know?” He shrugs nervously.

Albus smiles a rare smile. “Genius. Most of my best ideas came from dreams, you know.”

Minerva seems a little less convinced. “The rats are, er… fuzzy,” she says. “How on earth are they fuzzy?”

“Spun sugar,” Peter explains. “It’s basically candy floss.”

“And you did this… by hand?”

Peter nods.

“Wow,” Minerva says.

“Let’s have a taste, shall we? I’m afraid we’re going to have to behead one of these little guys,” Albus says, as he withdraws one of the rats.

“The base is cake, yes?”

Peter nods. “It’s a blueberry genoise sponge.”

“Blueberry? Mmm. And what are the seats made out of?”

“Filled chocolates. With rhubarb and custard inside!”

“And the… carpet?” 

“That’s crumble.”

“Sound like good, classic flavours!” Minerva taps the rocket with her fork. “Lovely sugar work! Let’s have a try, shall we?”

Albus nods.

“Nice genoise,” he says around a mouthful.

“Mmm.”

“Good rhubarb too.”

“Indeed.”

“It’s warm, it’s comforting. It’s everything that you’d want from a crumble.”

“But for the final?” Minerva says, her mouth downturned. “I’m not so sure...”

Next up is Mary, and again, Sirius helps her to carry her showstopper to the front. 

Mary’s is presented inside a fish bowl, so even from the back of the tent, Remus can clearly see everything. Inside, is an underwater scene, complete with a coral reef and an azure water layer on top, that Remus guesses has been made out of sugar.

“I must say, this looks very impressive,” Minerva says, looking into the fish bowl from the side.

“The fact that you’ve managed to simulate water with sugar work is incredibly clever. There’s even waves!”

Minerva nods in agreement. “What are we melting this with, Mary?”

Mary hands them a teapot that’s shaped like a conch shell. Albus laughs as he reaches out to grab it. 

“Even the teapot is on theme! I love it. Would you like to do the honours, Minerva?”

Minerva nods excitedly, and takes the teapot from Albus. They all watch as dark, almost black, chocolate cascades from the spout and onto the blue sugar. Eventually, it melts, covering the coral reef beneath with black, tar-like chocolate.

Minerva and Albus are both silent for a moment.

“Wow,” Minerva says.

“I’m assuming this is intentional?” Albus asks, eyes glittering. “That this resembles an oil spill for a reason?”

Mary nods. 

“It’s very striking,” Minerva says. “And the fact that it conveys such a strong environmental message is certainly commendable! This is exactly the kind of thing that I love to see in baking,” Minerva says. “I love it when people aren’t afraid to get political.”

The judges take their time tasting each of the components, and Mary’s lychee anemone gets her a handshake from both of the judges. Albus in particular can’t stop eating Mary’s bottom cake layer.

“Delicious, isn’t it?” Sirius says.

Mary laughs.

“Last, but certainly not least… Remus: would you please bring your showstopper up to the judges table?”

Sirius steps forward to help, but Remus says, “I’ve got it,” with a wink.

Remus places his showstopper in front of the judges. He stands back, with his hands behind his back.

Albus’s gaze darts between Remus’s face and his showstopper. He chuckles. Remus flushes.

“So, what do we have here?” Minerva begins. “Looks like the night sky! There’s the moon… some constellations… Albus, you know more about constellations than me. What have we got here?”

Albus’s eyes twinkle at Remus. “I can see canis major… Leo, too. Any story behind that, Remus?”

Remus feels Sirius’s gaze on him. He doesn’t dare glance at Sirius now; he doesn’t think he could look away. He clears his throat. “I just… really like those constellations.”

Albus chuckles. “Indeed.”

“Let’s do the pour-over, shall we? I want to see what’s inside,” Minerva says, excitedly.

Minerva pours the violet syrup over the sphere, which melts to reveal mountains and a lake.

“Oh! It’s all melted to fill the lake! How wonderful,” Minerva smiles up at him. “That’s very clever Remus.”

“Oh look, Minerva: it’s us! It’s Lake Windermere,” Albus says, his eyes flickering back up to Remus. His eyes are very blue. And very knowing . “And the mountains.”

“So it is! And look: it’s the tent!”

Albus turns his head to look at it. “And the village.”

“Ah!,” Minerva says. “What a lovely bake to finish on, Remus.”

“What flavours can we expect?”

“Violet, pomelo, and mānuka honey in one mountain. And then sesame, miso caramel, and roasted white chocolate in the other.”

“Mmm,” Minerva hums. “Shall we have a taste, Albus?”

The tent is silent as the judges taste Remus’s showstopper. 

“Well,” Albus says finally. “These are some wonderful flavours, Remus. I particularly love the pomelo and honey!”

Minerva nods. “I agree. I think the violet might be a little too strong for my tastes.”

Albus nods in agreement. 

“The sesame and white chocolate, on the other hand… delicious!”

“Hm,” Albus says, “I’m not so fond of that side. I find the sesame to be a little overpowering.”

Remus can’t help his laugh then.

Minerva smiles at him affectionately. “It’s hard to please both of our fussy old taste buds, isn’t it Remus?”

Remus shrugs. “As long as you like some of it, that’s fine with me.”

Albus chuckles. “That’s a very healthy mindset to have, Remus.” He pushes his plate back. “Well, Minerva. We have some big decisions to make.”

“Indeed,” Minerva says. “Indeed.”

The afternoon sees them all outside, surrounded by their friends and family while the judges make their final decisions. Remus sits in the sun and braids Marlene’s hair, which Dorcas decorates with daisies.

“I feel like a queen,” Marlene breathes. 

“My queen,” Dorcas says, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Marlene’s nose.

Remus pretends to retch behind Dorcas’s back, which earns him a light smack on the arm from Marlene.

A little later, Lily, Sirius, and the judges emerge from the tent, and everyone scrambles to get ready. Lily grins behind two large bouquets, and Sirius walks over to the contestants with the Bake Off trophy placed precariously on his head.

“Sirius!” Minerva scolds. "Put that down! It’s fragile”

“Anything for you, Minnie,” Sirius sighs, taking the glass cake stand off of his head.

James, somewhere to the left, wolf whistles, and Remus watches in amusement as both Lily and Sirius turn to grin at him.

And then, it’s time. As they stand in front of the judges for the last time, Remus, Mary, and Peter all link up, arms around each other’s waists.

“Six weeks,” Lily starts. “We’ve seen cakes rise and fall.”

“We’ve seen sourdough starters die, and dreams be dashed.” 

“And we’ve seen quite a few soggy bottoms.”

“But it must be said,” Sirius says, “That I’ve never enjoyed soggy bottoms quite so much, and that’s a testament to all of you. I know I speak for all of us when I say that we’re so proud of how far you’ve all come as bakers and as people.” 

Minerva sniffs.

Lily smiles at them. “Truly, I cannot imagine a better group of people to have done this with. Each of you has different strengths that you’ve brought to the tent, and rather than using them against each other, you’ve used them to help each other, and to lift each other up.”

“You should all leave today feeling like winners,” Sirius smiles. “Trophy or not.”

“But alas; only one of you is able to receive the trophy,” Lily says. “And so, it’s my absolute pleasure to announce the winner of the 2022 Great British Bake Off.”

Everyone is silent.

“Mary!”

Mary gasps. Then, she turns to her right and kisses Peter right on the mouth.

James wolf whistles again, and despite the slight pang of loss, Remus can’t hold back his grin; a grin which widens when he catches Sirius’s gaze. Sirius was right; trophy or not, when Remus looks at Sirius he still feels like a winner.

“How are you feeling, Remus?” Lily asks afterwards. Severus is beside her, his camera directed at Remus.

“Good!” Remus grins. “Proud! Proud of myself, proud of Pete, and, of course, so proud of Mary . I’m a little bit sad that I didn’t win, but it’s alright: I still feel like a winner in my own way. I won other things.”

“Like what?” Lily asks, smiling.

“Friendship,” Remus smiles softly. He looks at Sirius in the distance, who’s laughing with Marlene and waving his arms around enthusiastically. Then, he looks back at Lily whose green eyes are glittering in the sunlight. “Love.”

Afterwards, Sirius grabs Remus’s hand and leads him away from the crowd. 

“Sirius,” he says breathily, unsteadily, his voice betraying his fluttering stomach. “Where are we going?”

Sirius doesn’t answer and continues to lead Remus through the garden. 

They turn a corner, and suddenly Sirius is pulling Remus behind a tree. Remus swallows. His heart is in his throat.

Sirius bites his lip. “God… I want to kiss you,” he whispers. He looks around. “But there are too many people around…” 

“Oh.” Remus says, surprised. “Why are we here? If we’re not… erm.”

“Snogging?” Remus blushes and Sirius laughs under his breath. Then, he’s motioning for Remus to look at something to their left. “Look,” he whispers.

Remus looks. 

It’s James and Lily. He can’t make out the words that they’re saying, but Lily’s ducking her head, looking uncharacteristically shy. And James is grinning down at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Remus smiles to himself. James’s expression is oddly familiar, even if he can’t exactly place it.

“They’ve been texting the whole time,” Sirius murmurs. “James kept denying it, but he finally told me this morning.” He smiles to himself. “He’s absolutely smitten.”

“So’s she,” Remus says. “Look at her.”

Sirius does. And then he turns to Remus. He’s not smiling, quite, but his eyes are crinkled at the sides as they might be if he was smiling. His expression is unbelievably soft. “I know the feeling.”

Remus’s stomach swoops. The air leaves his chest in a puff of breath. James’s expression is familiar, Remus realises, because it’s the exact same expression that Sirius has when he looks at him . And now, those slate grey eyes fixed on Remus—beautiful, dangerous, and impossibly beautiful. It’s funny, Remus thinks: at the start, Remus had thought that Sirius’s eyes reminded him of the sea. Now the sea reminds Remus of Sirius’s eyes.

“Me too,” Remus whispers. 

“Remus! Dear boy!” Arthur hugs him tightly. “I love your tie,” he says, his blue eyes sparkling. “This is my wife, Molly! And our sons: Bill, Charlie, and Percy.” Arthur gestures to a heavily pregnant woman holding a baby. Beside her, holding her hand, are two little boys of varying heights, both of whom have Arthur’s eyes and upturned nose. Together, they all look like a matching set. It makes Remus smile.

“Remus!” Molly says warmly. “I’ve heard so much about you, love. Arthur is non-stop singing your praises!”

“Oh, that’s very kind of him. The feeling is very much mutual,” Remus says warmly.

Molly looks like she’s about to say something, but it’s at that exact moment that Percy starts crying. Molly excuses herself—”nappies…” she sighs, shaking her head.

Remus and Arthur talk excitedly about the final. As Remus is telling Arthur about Peter’s croquembouche, Sirius sidles up beside Remus, grinning at Arthur.

“Sirius, dear boy!” 

“How’s freedom treating you?” Sirius winks.

“It’s rather boring after the tent, I’m afraid! I rather miss your antics!”

It’s then that Molly rejoins them. “False alarm, I think he just got overwhel…” she pauses. And then: “Sirius!” 

Sirius blinks at Molly, his expression one of caution. Then, he peers at her closely. “Hold on… I know you!”

“I’m Molly!” Sirius’s looks at her blankly. “You know: Fabian and Gideon’s sister?”

Sirius blanches for a second as recognition ripples across his features. “Ah,” he says. “Yes. Of course.”

Arthur tilts his head, confused, looking back and forth between Sirius and Molly. “Wait… do we know Sirius?”

Molly’s expression is unamused as she turns to her husband. “Arthur… how many times have I told you now? Sirius! You know: Fabian’s Sirius. His ex-band member and, erm…”

Molly and Sirius share a look, silent words passing between them. Remus manages well enough to fill in the blanks: he knows Sirius and Fabian were together. It was never public knowledge, though, and looking between Sirius and Molly now, Remus strongly suspects that that was Fabian’s decision, rather than Sirius’s.

Arthur frowns, tapping his finger on his chin. “Hmm, that is starting to ring a bell, now that you mention it…”

Molly rolls her eyes. “He’s hopeless! Utterly hopeless…”

“I just don’t care much for gossip,” Arthur informs Remus and Sirius. “Or any of that celebrity nonsense. Especially the royals… ugh. I couldn’t care less! All I know is that Fab and Gid were in a band. Couldn’t tell you the name, or any of the songs…” He turns to Sirius. “Er. Sorry, Sirius.”

Sirius smiles at Arthur. “Don’t be sorry, Arthur. It is nonsense.”

Molly fixes Sirius with a sad, serious look as she bounces Percy in her arms. “I really am sorry about my idiot brothers. I’ve tried to talk some sense into them, but they’re, well… they’re cowards, to be honest.”

“Yes,” Sirius says, his voice steady. “They are.”

“They do feel guilty, Sirius… and I know it doesn’t change anything, nor should it, but… Fabian is sorry. I just don’t think he quite knows how to show that.”

Sirius prickles. “Tell him that saying he’s sorry is probably a good start.” His tone is very careful and measured. Remus hooks his pinky with Sirius’s and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“We’re in agreement there, love,” Molly says gently.

“Alright?” Remus asks gently afterwards. Their pinkies are still linked.

“Yeah,” Sirius sighs, looking at his feet. “It just… it still hurts. And I’m still fucking pissed, to be honest.”

“That’s completely fair,” Remus says. “I don’t know what happened, but from the sounds of things… you have every right to be upset. And furious.”

Sirius smiles at him sadly. “Thanks, Moons. It’s… complicated.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Remus says. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into telling me.”

Sirius squeezes Remus’s pinky. “I want to.” And then he exhales. “It’s a long story… you already know a little bit of it. We were already falling apart when it happened.”

“When what happened?” Remus asks softly.

“We almost got outed,” Sirius says quietly. “Some reporter got her hands on photos of us together and was threatening to release them… and, well. Fabian didn’t take it well. I was already out at the time. But he wasn’t.”

“Oh, Sirius ,” Remus says. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees. “It is. I don’t blame him at all for being upset; he didn’t want to come out and no one should have ever put him in that position, but… he blamed me. He said I’d taken the photos myself. That I’d released them myself. For the attention, or whatever. So I kicked him out and threw his shit out the window—”

“Valid.”

Sirius smiles, before continuing: “Then James and Gideon got involved, and… well.” Sirius shrugs. “Then that was it. There wasn’t much of a band left after that. Or a relationship.”

Remus bites his lip. “Sirius… I’m sorry.”

“I know he was just hurt. And scared.”

“But…”

“It still hurts. It probably always will, I think. But… time helps.”

“Yeah,” Remus says. “So do people.”

Sirius smiles. “Yeah. So do people.”

In celebration of the final, and to wrap up Bake Off, the network hosts a dinner for everyone in the hotel gardens that evening. Now that it’s August, the evening air is milder than it had been the month before. Still, it holds residual summer heat, even as the stars and moon begin to appear above them. The warm air carries with it the scent of wisteria from the garden.

Remus is sat at the end of the table with Albus, Minerva, Sirius, and his own family. James and Lily are there as well, but they’re so wrapped up in each other that they might as well be seated at their own table.

Remus sighs contentedly as he sips his wine. He tries not to blatantly stare at Sirius, but it’s difficult when he’s seated directly opposite Remus. As his eyes trail the length of Sirius’s collarbone, he thinks rather hopelessly that beneath the stars, with his face lit up by candlelight, Sirius looks like a work of art.

Hope seems to be of the same mind, and she’s giggling and lightly flushed as Sirius proceeds to charm the absolute socks off her. 

“Future son in law!” she whispers to Remus afterwards, fixing him with a meaningful look. 

He rolls his eyes, whispering back that it’s far too soon for that sort of thing. Still, he smiles into the rim of his glass, thinking about how much he likes the sound of that idea. 

As the evening wears on, both Minerva and Albus proceed to get steadily more drunk. Remus and Sirius, on the other hand, both decide to stop after one glass.

Minerva seems to take issue with this; as with the salad that Sirius orders for dinner. “Is that all?” She says, eyes narrowed at Sirius. “You barely ate any baking today, Sirius. Usually you eat all the leftovers. What’s gotten into you?”

“Just salad for me tonight, I’m afraid,” Sirius sighs. “All the gluten has been wreaking absolute havoc on my poor digestive system.” 

As Minerva huffs and turns back to Poppy, Sirius looks up at Remus from under his eyelashes mischievously. Under the table, Remus feels the toe of Sirius’s shoe nudging, teasing, on his ankle. 

Oh . 

Remus holds back a groan. It’s so close now that Remus can almost taste it; can almost taste Sirius and the salty saffron headiness of his skin. He doesn’t know how he’s going to survive the rest of dinner, not when he knows what they’ll be doing afterwards. He wonders if he could make a sneaky exit, if he could claim to be unwell. Would Sirius know? Would he follow? Would he—

Albus coughs. Remus glances up to see Albus looking between Sirius and Remus. When he catches Remus’s gaze, he winks, his blue eyes sparkling knowingly. Remus slowly turns what he’s sure is a bright red, and throws back his glass of water in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

He’s going to die.

Remus doesn’t die. But by the time dessert is being served, it’s a very near thing. Sirius’s foot is in Remus’s lap, and he’s now lounging back in his chair, sipping idly at his La Croix. His dark hair is brushed over his shoulder, and his earring glints teasingly at Remus. If he was looking only at Sirius’s face, Remus might almost think he was bored.

But, underneath the table, Sirius's foot continues to edge up Remus’s thigh. What started as teasing touches under the table have gotten progressively more bold. 

Remus grips his glass of water and holds on for dear life.

“You alright, Rem?” Marlene asks, concerned. “You look a little tense.”

At that, Sirius brushes his foot against Remus’s cock.

Remus holds back a desperate moan, and instead tightens his grip on his glass as he tries not to shudder.

His glass shatters.

Hope gasps.

“Remus!” Minerva cries. “Are you alright? Poppy, check his hand!”

“I’m fine,” Remus says weakly. “Just… fine.”

Poppy fusses over him, checking his hand over and over to make sure that he’s not injured. Remarkably, he seems to have gotten off unscathed. Physically, at least.

Throughout it all, Remus feels Sirius’s gaze boring into him. Once everyone has settled back down, and the light conversation has resumed, Remus finally looks up to meet Sirius’s eyes.

Sirius’s gaze is burning. Molten hot silver, surrounded by dark, feathery lashes. Remus feels like he’s going to combust. 

And then Sirius is standing up.

“I’m afraid I ought to be getting off to bed,” he says. “I’m exhausted.”

Sirius doesn’t look exhausted. He looks bright and radiant, but nobody questions him. Everybody says goodbye, and Arthur even bids him a restful night’s sleep—a comment that makes Albus chuckle.

Remus is proud that he manages to wait a total of five minutes before he makes his own escape.

“Sore hand,” he explains weakly, and everyone seems to buy it. Well. Almost everyone.

Marlene, Albus, and Mary all wink at him. Remus is sure that James would too if he wasn’t so wrapped up in Lily. Hope, at least, appears to be none the wiser, which Remus is thankful for; he’s not sure she’d approve of what he has planned for the night.

And so, once Remus is inside the hotel and in the clear, he checks his phone.

——

Padfoot: room 12

upstairs x

——

Blood thrumming and every single nerve in his body alight , Remus makes his way upstairs.

His heart is in his throat as he stands in front of the door. He knocks. He waits. 

The door opens.

Remus inhales sharply. 

Sirius . His hair is ruffled, as if he’s been running his hands through it. His shirt is askew, exposing his collarbones and his tattoos. 

Remus feels as the rope between them tightens. And pulls. 

Sirius inclines his head, ever so slightly, and suddenly Remus feels himself being yanked into Sirius’s room by his tie.

Remus is vaguely aware of the door clattering closed behind him.

Sirius stares up at him with wild eyes. Everything is still, silent, for one, two, three.

They both move in at the same time. 

****

Sirius’s hands are in Remus’s hair, Remus’s on Sirius’s waist, fingers digging in, and they are finally, finally, finally kissing. Sirius’s hands are everywhere; he can’t get enough of Remus, of Remus’s body, the way that Remus’s lips feel against his own. He pushes Remus up against the door and presses himself to him, trying to push himself into Remus, to devour him, to make them one.

A torrent of emotions wash over Sirius then, but most prominent is the rightness of it: the rightness of the way Remus’s lips move against his own, the rightness of Remus’s body pressed up against his, his hands, his fingers, cupping Sirius’s jaw and leaning his head back so that he can fully access his mouth.

Six weeks have been leading up to this moment, and they’ve been simultaneously the longest and shortest six weeks of Sirius’s life. 

And, as it turns out, Remus was very much worth waiting for. Their kisses are heated, passionate, and reverent . Remus could take Sirius apart with just his mouth, he’s certain of it. And Sirius would let him. Gladly .

Sirius gasps into Remus’s mouth as Remus feels down the smooth planes of Sirius’s body. He can’t get enough. Can’t get enough of Remus’s touch, of touching Remus. He can’t believe they’re really doing this; can’t believe that Remus, after all this time, is here, gasping into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip, and exploring Sirius’s mouth with his tongue, so deft and talented.

“Off, off, off,” Sirius pants as he desperately tries to pull Remus’s woollen jumper over his head. Remus ends up all twisted up, with his tie, shirt, and jumper stuck on his head. Sirius swallows as he gazes at Remus’s newly exposed chest. He wants to lick it. He will lick it. But first, he needs to free Remus.

“Sorry,” Sirius murmurs, laughing softly as he frees Remus’s curly head from his jumper and shirt. “That was a lot smoother in my head.”

Remus doesn’t say anything, and as soon as Sirius has wrangled him out of his clothes, Remus is kissing Sirius again. He cradles Sirius’s head with his hands, his long, clever fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of Sirius’s neck. Sirius moans into Remus’s mouth, who swallows the sound and pulls him tighter. Remus kisses Sirius like he’s breathing, like Sirius is breath itself. Sirius melts .

Remus pulls back to look at Sirius, his eyes bright and wild, soft and gentle. He cradles Sirius’s jaw with his hand, his thumb brushing over Sirius’s cheekbone. His breath washes over Sirius’s lips and it’s too much and not enough and Sirius is pushing forward again, pressing his lips to Remus’s, kissing him like he’ll die if he doesn’t.

And then Remus is moving down, his lips on Sirius’s neck, on his throat, his jaw, his ear, sucking, nibbling, licking—all the sensations that Sirius has dreamed about every single night since they’d first crashed together on his couch in London.

Remus works open the buttons of Sirius’s shirt, kissing and licking the skin that he uncovers there. He traces Sirius’s tattoos with his tongue, kissing the skin afterwards.

Sirius’s hands are clenched in Remus’s hair as Remus moves down Sirius’s body, and Sirius can’t stop making noises, all these embarrassing, breathy moans. But when Remus gazes up at him, amber eyes on fire, Sirius can’t find it in him to care. He’ll shout the roof down if it means that Remus keeps looking at him like that .

And then Remus is on his knees, working open Sirius’s belt, nuzzling and kissing the skin of Sirius’s lower stomach.

Sirius moans .

Sirius’s brain is mush. He had thoughts, once, but he doesn’t remember what they were. He doesn’t remember anything outside of Remus. Outside of Remus and his mouth , and his fingers . His mouth that is on Sirius, and his fingers that are working him open so perfectly. Since that fateful day in spice week, Sirius has dreamed about having Remus’s fingers inside him. And now that it’s finally happening, he feels like he’s transcending.

Remus knows exactly what he’s doing. For a moment, Sirius almost feels jealous of all the lovers that Remus has clearly had before him. He feels bubbling jealousy at all the people that have seen Remus the way that Sirius is seeing him now: gazing up at Sirius, his eyes half-lidded, a strand of saliva connecting his mouth to Sirius’s head. And then Remus crooks his finger and Sirius’s thoughts are reduced to white static and bursts of light.

Remus pulls down his pants and Sirius bites his lip so hard he tastes blood.

“Knew it,” Sirius breathes, settling in front of Remus, his hands on Remus’s hips. “I fucking knew it,” he murmurs, kissing up Remus’s shaft.

Sirius is overcome: he wants to worship Remus, wants to make Remus understand how much Sirius wants this, how much he’s thought about this, and how much this means to him. But he doesn’t think he could do that in just a single night. No, he’d need years to show Remus everything he’s thought about, all the different ways he’s imagined loving Remus.

“Afterwards,” Sirius promises, “I am going to worship you.” Remus licks his lips, staring down at Sirius. “But I need you. Now.”

Remus nods, dazed, as Sirius rummages through his pant pocket for lube and condoms. He starts trying to prepare himself, which seems to shake Remus out of his stunned reverie.

“No,” he says, batting Sirius’s hand away. “Let me.”

“Now,” Sirius whimpers. “ Please , Remus.”

They don’t make it to the bed.

Remus bucks into Sirius on the floor, his hips snapping forward, and his amber eyes burning. Neither of them has it in them to go slow. Not now, not after the intense build up. All the simmering tension between them has to be released.

And released it is. 

Sirius’s hands are everywhere, in Remus’s hair, on his arms, his shoulders, his back , holding on for dear life, his nails biting into Remus’s skin, as Remus takes him apart. Sirius has two coherent thoughts: Remus. And More .

He’s babbling, can’t stop talking: it’s just words, barely strung together. Remus can’t stop kissing him, kissing his neck, keening into Sirius’s ear as they move together, desperate and hard, on the floor. Sirius feels the burn of the carpet on the skin of his arse as Remus fucks him into the floor and he doesn’t care. He welcomes it. He hopes it leaves marks.

Remus looks down to where they’re connected, mouth open and eyes wide as if he can’t believe it. 

“Remus, baby, please,” Sirius begs. “Please, please, please .”

Remus, who has oozed quiet confidence since Sirius pushed him up against the door, blushes at the word ‘baby.’ And then he’s pushing into Sirius with renewed vigour, mouthing at Sirius’s neck, as Sirius clings to Remus, fingernails scratching down his back.

Sirius comes first with head thrown back, back arched, and Remus fucks him through it. Sirius’s vision almost whites out, but through it all, Sirius gazes up at Remus’s face as he watches Sirius come apart beneath him. 

And then Remus’s hips are stuttering as Sirius pants into his ear. Remus buries his face into the crook of Sirius’s neck, gasping, as Sirius kisses the side of his head.

“Yes, yes, baby,” Sirius whispers. “Remus. Come for me.”

Afterwards, Remus carries a sleepy, boneless Sirius to the bed. Under the covers, Sirius wraps himself around Remus like an octopus, with his leg draped over Remus and his head on Remus’s chest, ear to heart. It’s a reversal of the way they’d woken up that morning, and this time it’s Remus’s hands in Sirius’s hair, rubbing soothing circles on his scalp. Sirius hums contentedly.

“I cannot tell you how many times I’ve fantasised about eating creme pat off of your body,” he says a little later, his mouth pressed to Remus’s scarred skin.

He feels the rumble of Remus’s laugh against his lips. “What?” 

Sirius lifts his head up and leans his chin on Remus’s chest so that he can look him in the eye. He smirks. “During the finale, I couldn’t stop imagining you bending me over your bench and fingering me.”

Remus drops his head back against the pillow and groans. “Sirius, fuck. What is it with you and my hands?”

“They’re sexy .” Sirius grins and traces the scar along Remus’s collarbone with his finger. “Y’know, one time I saw cardamom buns and I got so hard I had to wank in a public toilet.”

Remus laughs. “Ah yes, the famous public toilet incident.” And then: “why cardamom buns?”

“Spice week.”

Remus looks confused.

“Kneading,” Sirius clarifies.

“What—”

“That’s when I knew,” Sirius confesses. “When I saw you kneading your dough in spice week. I got hard so quickly I thought I was going to pass out.”

“Oh,” Remus says. He looks thoughtful. And then he laughs. “That makes sense. So the time you walked into a fridge…?”

“Bread week,” Sirius says. “I almost died .”

Remus laughs again. “I feel powerful. I had no idea my hands had such an effect on you.”

Sirius leans forward and nuzzles Remus’s neck, biting the skin there softly, then licking over it with his tongue. “You have no idea.” And then Sirius pulls back. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Any surprise boners? Have I ever made you hard at an inopportune moment?”

Remus looks at the ceiling thoughtfully. Then blushes. Oh , Sirius thinks. This will be good . 

“I’ve had… erm, dreams about you,” Remus says, his voice slightly strained.

“Why I’ve had dreams about you too, Moony.”

“Not regular dreams… um. You know…”

Sirius laughs, even though he feels a familiar heat furling through his belly. “Little old for that, aren’t you?” He teases.

“I was a teenager.”

“Oh,” Sirius says. He blinks. And then: “Oh. Tell me more. Remus, please?”

Remus’s cheeks are bright red as he talks. “It was just when you’d started growing your hair long, there was this one picture of you with your shirt was open and... your tattoos… I would—I’d dream about them. How they might taste.”

Sirius inhales sharply, but Remus isn’t done.

“I’d dream about tracing them with my tongue, and the kind of noises you’d make as I… erm.” Remus swallows. “Sorry... I sound like a creep, I know you must hate hearing this from fans.”

“No,” Sirius rasps, reaching forward to cradle Remus’s cheek with his palm. “I mean… I do. Usually. But not from you. It’s different with you.”

“Oh.” Remus looks away, embarrassed.

“I’m not joking, Remus. It is different. If our situations had been reversed, I’d have been doing the exact same thing.”

Remus laughs as if he thinks it’s a joke, and he’s still not looking at Sirius.

So, Sirius continues. “Even if I wasn’t presenting Bake Off, I’d still be watching at home, getting all hot and bothered over clips of you kneading dough. So,” Sirius smiles, “We’re even.”

Remus bites his lip. He’s looking at the ceiling.

Sirius leans forward to kiss Remus’s chin. “First, I’d notice your eyes, your accent, and your smile . And I’d think, oh . He’s cute.”

Sirius bites at Remus’s jaw gently, and then pulls back. “Then, I’d see how you get when you’re concentrated, when you’re biting your lip and your eyes turn amber. And I’d think, oh . He’s sexy .”

Remus’s eyes flick to him finally. His amber eyes are swirling with emotion. “Yeah?”

Sirius sits up so that he’s sitting on Remus’s chest, knees either side of him. “ Then I’d be sitting at home, on my couch, watching you knead dough, wishing I could touch you. Thinking about what you’d do to me. How you’d touch me.”

Remus runs his hands—his hands !—up Sirius’s thighs and rests them on his hips. Sirius feels arousal furling inside, which is completely ridiculous, and should be impossible, seeing as they’ve literally just been at it.

“And I’d listen to you talk. To what you say. How you talk to other people in the tent. And I’d think fuck; I want to meet him. I want him. I want him to be mine .”

Remus gasps as his hands clench Sirius’s hips. “I am. I’m yours.”

“Good,” Sirius whispers. “Because I’m yours too.” And then he leans forward to kiss Remus. 

Then he pulls back, moving down Remus’s body, trailing his lips down Remus’s chest as he goes. 

Sure enough, Sirius isn’t the only one who’s affected. He licks his lips and takes Remus into his mouth.

Sirius wakes to Remus kissing along his jaw, nuzzling Sirius’s throat, humming. Sirius moans, reaching behind him to weave his fingers through Remus’s hair. 

He feels Remus smile against his skin.

Remus takes him apart again , but this time he’s needier. He keeps whispering in Sirius’s ear all the things he wants to do to him, how good he looks, how well he’s taking him.

As the first rays of morning sun shine through the curtains, Sirius grinds down onto Remus, his hands propped on his chest for balance. Remus’s hands are on Sirius’s hips as he moves, and he gazes up at Sirius. Remus’s hair is a mess from Sirius’s fingers, his neck a mottled canvas of red splotches, courtesy of Sirius’s lips, and his cheeks are flushed, his golden skin dewy from Sirius’s ministrations. 

Sirius has no idea how much time has passed like this, with Sirius slowly moving his hips above Remus. It could be minutes, it could be hours. He suspects it's the latter, as the sky was definitely dark when Remus woke him up.

He knows he looks like a mess, that his hair’s matted from the friction of his head against the mattress during their previous round, but when Remus gazes up at him like this, he feels like the most beautiful person in the universe.

At that thought, he clenches around Remus, who lets out a gentle, “ah!” and bucks up into Sirius as if he can’t help it. Sirius smirks and grinds down harder, and something flashes in Remus’s eyes. 

He flips them over, and Sirius doesn’t have many coherent thoughts after that.

“Wow,” Sirius gasps, afterwards. “I fucking love pre-coffee Remus.”

Remus, whose head is resting on Sirius’s chest stills for a second. He looks up, expression sleepy and hazy from his orgasm. Still, there’s a clearness in his gaze.

“Pre-coffee Remus loves you too,” he says softly.

Sirius bites his lip. “Yeah?”

Remus smiles slowly, shyly. “All Remus’s love you.” 

Then, he yawns, his eyebrows raised as if he’s surprised by it and Sirius’s heart burns with affection. He’s ridiculous. He’s so far gone it’s not even funny.

“That’s a relief,” Sirius says, his hands on Remus’s chest, his right hand over his heart, his fingers curling in slightly. “Because I’m so, stupidly in love with you.”

“Yeah?” Remus echoes, moving his hand from Sirius’s hip to holding Sirius’s hand over his heart.

“Yeah,” Sirius breathes.

Later, when Remus is in the bathroom, Sirius checks his phone. He blinks. He’s been bombarded with texts from James.

——

Prongs: Jesus christ Pads!!!!!!!

Fml

Im going to murder you

I hate u so much right now

Padfoot: ????

Prongs: Im in a hotel room w lils (v exciting, will tell you more later)

Had a wonderful night ;))))

Aside from the fact that I also had the pleasure of listening to u moaning all night !!!!!!!!!!

Like did u 2 even sleep

We r just wondering

Out of care and concern

And awe

Good god

Padfoot: HAHA

um

i don’t really know what to say

Prongs: Sorry is a good start!!!!!!

Padfoot: lol

to be fair, i specifically booked this room bc all the surrounding rooms were empty

so

not my fault!

Prongs: Hey same ;)))

Great minds think alike

Which Im usually grateful for

But not this time!!!!

It was extremely hard 2 concentrate on my own tender lovemaking when all I could hear was u moaning Remus's name

Tell Remus Im impressed by his stamina

But disappointed in him for enabling ur sinning

Padfoot: i’m not telling him anything

he’d probably get embarrassed and refuse to fuck me again :-(

Prongs: ……..

Oh

Actually……

>:)

——

Remus’s phone buzzes.

Sirius clambers across the bed to check it. Sure enough, it’s James. 

——

James: That was an impressive performance last night, young man

From what I heard thru the wall at least

Only mildly traumatising!!! :)))

Remus: Nice try dickhead

He’s in the bathroom

James: Goddammit Pads :\\\

Whats a man gotta do to get some rest around here

Remus: And as soon as he’s back we’ll be going for round 2 xxx

You have been warned

Get those earbuds in, old chap

James: Um not round 2

Round 50

How tf do you have more in u

Im impressed n terrified

Remus: When you’re a big boy you’ll understand x

Tell Lilypad I say hello

And am sorry about the racket x

——

Sirius gasps as warm shower water cascades over him. Hands firmly planted on the tiles, he twists around to look at Remus. He’s between Sirius’s cheeks, holding them open, as he works Sirius open with his tongue. His eyes are closed, his cheekbones dusted pink, and water drips down his face and hair. His eyes flutter open and he gazes up at Sirius, pulling back and licking his lips. He looks at home down there.

“I could do this all day,” Remus says, stroking Sirius’s arse cheeks, and leaning in to kiss him again, his tongue flicking out.

Sirius whimpers. 

Afterwards, Remus gently lathers up Sirius’s hair with shampoo, then conditioner, as he gently works out the knots.

“What happened, Pads? It’s a proper nest back here,” Remus says, laughing.

“You,” Sirius says simply.

Remus’s eyes flash and suddenly Sirius feels himself being flipped around and pressed into the tiles.

Sirius grins. And then leans in to kiss Remus.

****

Later, after they’ve showered and gotten (somewhat) dressed, Sirius attempts to prepare them coffee with the kettle and the shitty hotel coffee sachets. He takes a sip and grimaces, and thinks briefly about pouring them down the sink. He thinks better of it, though; disgusting or not, they definitely need the energy.

Coffees in tow, Sirius walks over to Remus, who’s seated in one of the armchairs by the window, overlooking the lake and mountains. He gently places the coffees on the little table. The noise startles Remus, who looks up at him, his brown eyes wide and unfocused. He looks sleepy, much as he had in Sirius’s kitchen, his hair a messy halo of curls. But there’s a satiated smile and flush on his face, and Sirius glows at the thought that he put it there.

Sirius tries to sit down in the other armchair, but winces as his tender arse makes contact with the hard cushion. 

Seeing his discomfort, Remus reaches forward and pulls Sirius into his lap. Sirius adjusts himself so that he’s straddling Remus, with his weight dispersed on his thighs.

He wraps his arms around Remus’s neck. “Thank you, Moony. My hero,” he says, fake swooning.

“No problem, Pads,” Remus says, smiling. “I may have gotten a little carried away...” He blushes.

“Mm. And I loved every second of it.” Sirius nuzzles Remus’s hand as he reaches up to brush Sirius’s hair behind his ear.

“Me too,” Remus says, still flushed, tracing Sirius’s cheekbone with his thumb. “I guess you’ll just have to fuck me today instead, hmm?”

Sirius’s brain short circuits at the thought of Remus writhing beneath him. He has to take a steadying breath.

“I look forward to it,” he breathes.

Remus ducks his head, and then looks up again, his chocolate eyes warm and tender. Sirius can see the love in them and it makes him breathless. He can’t believe that this is his life right now; that he’s here in this room with Remus after the night that they’ve had. 

Sirius buries his face in the crook of Remus’s neck. “Mmm.”

Remus hums. 

“Three more days of this,” Sirius smiles into Remus’s skin. “Three more days before we have to leave.”

Remus rests his chin on Sirius’s head, and Sirius leans forward to kiss Remus’s fluttering pulse. “What are you going to do after?” he asks gently. They haven’t broached this topic yet. In fact, they haven’t talked very much at all since falling into bed the night before.

Remus hums again and Sirius closes his eyes, the sound gentle and calming. “I honestly don’t know,” Remus says. “I’m leaving the cottage, but, otherwise…”

“Come stay with me,” Sirius says. “In London.”

“I. Really?”

Sirius pulls back to look at Remus. 

“Yeah,” Sirius smiles.

“Are you sure?” Remus asks, but there’s already a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life,” Sirius says.

And it’s true.

***

21/04/23

Review: Sirius Black - Moonlight

This week in music, we have a new release from England’s Sirius Black. Where Black’s first solo record was a lament on grief and loss, Moonlight is undeniably Sirius Black in love; and it suits him. Ever the controversial figure, this release has been shrouded in speculation and fan theories—most of which link Black to Remus Lupin, former contestant on the Great British Bake Off. 

Album highlights are Wisteria, Silver Spun, and the titular track, Moonlight. On Wisteria, Black wistfully describes his urge to escape the shallowness of modern life and fame with his lover. Silver Spun, on the other hand, is possibly the sexiest Black has ever gotten on a track before. The song is an ode to body worship, as Black intimately describes tasting every inch of his lover’s body with his tongue. His husky voice and the thrumming percussion merge to create a heady and passionate sound. The titular track, Moonlight, merges both the sweet yearning and the heady seduction of the above tracks. It’s an ode to love in its entirety. Here, Black apologises for overreacting, dreams of a future together, and croons about doing the dishes in the arms of his lover. 

The result is a mature and sensual record that never once divulges into the saccharine sound one might expect from a former boy band member singing about love. Whoever, or whatever, this album is really about, one thing is for certain: Sirius Black is unstoppable when he puts his mind to something.