Harry Potter, I’m Too Old

Title: I’m Too Old [Remus/Sirius]
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: Somehow, they got old.
AN: Written for the 24-Hour Ficathon.
donnaimmaculata wanted narrative present, Remus/Sirius, with no mention of Pre-Azkaban romance.

I’m Too Old

“Bloody hell!” Sirius whined, hoisted the last box of books onto the desk and leaning against it with a groan. “Don’t you own anything but books, you stupid werewolf?!”

“I told you not to lift it,” Remus said reproachfully, turning from the bookcase he was filing books away in. “I said levitate it or something, or let me help you.”

Sirius tried to stretch and nearly doubled over, gasping in pain.

“For Christ’s sake, Sirius,” Remus snapped, harsher than he’d intended. “What did you expect, you aren’t a teenager anymore!”

Sirius stared pointedly at the floor, waiting for the pain in his side to dull to the point where he could go off and sulk someplace.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said quietly after a moment. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Yes you did,” Sirius said, refusing to look up. Remus sighed softly, unwilling to continue the argument.

“Come on, then,” he said instead, pulling gently on Sirius’ arm. “I’ve got some ointment in the medical kit.”

Sirius jerked out of his grip with a painful grunt and cursed, but Remus knew it was directed at the house instead of at him, at the fact they needed to bring a first aid kit to come and live in this house like it was some sort of enemy territory.

It was enemy territory, actually, and Sirius knew it better than anybody.

Remus pushed Sirius towards his bedroom, admonishing him to take off his robes and lie down, and he’d be back in a minute after he dug up the ointment.

Remus felt slightly less tense in Sirius’ old room than anywhere else in the house. It was partly because he’d been there during his school days, not many times but a few, and partly because most of Sirius’ old Quidditch and rock star posters were still Everstuck to the wall.

The posters had all erupted into cheers the first time Sirius had come back into the room after nearly twenty years of absence, and Remus and Sirius had leaned against each other and laughed until they cried.

Remus sat down gingerly next to Sirius and laid a hand on Sirius’ warm back to let him know he was there. Sirius had his face to the wall and said nothing.

Remus sighed a little, but didn’t try to draw him out, offering silent apology by rubbing Grendaline’s Mystical Muscle Relaxer into Sirius’ muscles until Sirius stopped wincing at every touch.

“How do you feel?” Remus finally asked.

“Old,” Sirius replied curtly, but he turned his face back to look at Remus. “I am old, aren’t I?”

Remus wished Sirius would turn back to the wall so that he wouldn’t have to stare Sirius’ permanent damage in the face.

“Budge over,” he said instead, kicking off his shoes and laying down next to Sirius. Sirius threw an arm over Remus’ chest after a moment’s hesitation and hugged him, a little too tightly. “Too much moving,” Remus sighed.

“Yes,” Sirius agreed. “Nap?”

“Nap,” Remus nodded. He bent his head slightly to kiss Sirius, ignoring the second of hesitation again before Sirius kissed back, because the aggression that followed made up for it.

Sirius drew back suddenly and stared down at Remus, running a thumb along the werewolf’s jaw thoughtfully.

“What?” Remus asked after a few moments.

“I wish I’d loved you before I was old,” Sirius finally said, the childishness in his voice almost funny. And then, “I probably would have, if I’d known what sort of body you were hiding under those robes.”

“Can’t have everyone knowing about the sexiness,” Remus replied with amusement, smiling faintly at the twitch that jerked Sirius when Remus drew fingertips down his bare chest. “I’d have been fighting people off with sticks.” He hooked a finger into Sirius’ trousers and pulled him closer, reaching around to massage tortured lower back muscles that probably shouldn’t be doing this yet.

“What about the nap?” Sirius sighed into Remus’ mouth.

“We don’t need naps,” Remus informed him carelessly. “Not before the shagging, anyway. Naps come after.”

“Then maybe shagging again?” Sirius inquired with a raised eyebrow, a glimmer of old Sirius-banter bubbling up.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Remus answered dryly. “Some of us are old.”

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