Chapter Text
Morning falls soft and sweet over the Potters cottage, autumn seeping in around them outside, the trees by the window losing leaves and making way for the orange beams of low, warm, sunlight. It defrosts the grass and slowly melts the white cold overnight cast on the flowers, but spills its way through the white, thin curtains hung on the kitchen window.
Its for this reason, James’ parents and the rest of the boys visiting in the house - who spend at least a quarter of their break lounging around and enjoying the vast openness of the cottage - believe James Potter wakes as early as he does. Always eager not only to experience, but soak in what he can, whether it be alone time - unlikely, not with that boy, - or the opportunity to sneak a quick appreciative walk down the lane and back before the others tease him relentlessly for his routine early rising, save for a very tired, sleepy moony who’s only morning objective is tea.
So it is not unusual that James hears soft, socked footsteps padding a little uncoordinated down the hall and into the bright morning glory of the kitchen. Although morning glory is what James would call it, Remus squints at the light and mumbles a quiet ‘Mornin’” like the fact he's awake this early has barley registered, and wont until he's several cups of tea in, and half asleep at 5pm that evening.
James smiles, noticing the direction he’d come from, Sirius’ room upstairs rather than the spare he and peter had been sharing every break since they were first allowed the visit. Not unusual, James thinks, as Peters a known snorer and the four of them know that better than anyone after sharing a dorm with the mouth breather for seven, long, happy years. And James knows that Sirius, oh Sirius, would be glad to let his dearest moonbeam bunk with him. He smiles to himself, looking down at the mail from the day before as Remus shuffles around behind with stiff joints towards the kettle.
It really hadn't taken a detective to realize the two of them had something going on. James couldn't quite pinpoint where things had warmed up so significantly between Remus and Sirius, his memory may be fuzzy but part of him believes that there was a high possibility that it had been forever. Whenever it had switched over, it had been so natural that James hadn't questioned it until Sirius blurted out a quiet, scared, shaky, whispered version of ‘I’m Gay.’ late one evening as he’d crawled into James’s canopy bed in the comfort of Gryffindor tower, not even a year ago. So yes, that had been eye opening to James, but things only clicked when Remus asked them frustratedly to ‘stop trying to set me up with a new girl every week.’ after rejecting several perfectly fit and albeit popular date candidates. Later, when questioned, he’d asked them to drop it with a tone that ended any investigation and a sense of not quite knowing how to explain himself. James had thought about it that night and he’d crawled into Sirius’ bed, shaking him awake despite Sirius having not even drifted off yet, and asking him what he thinks of moony.
James had expected a confirmation, a gaydar going off like a bell in a similar fashion to James, but to his surprise he was met with a pink cheeked sirius and a long, long night of trying to coax him into calm after freaking out that everyone knew, and repeatedly asking ‘but really, Prongs, am i being obvious?’. That was how James Potter found out Sirius Black was truly, deeply in love with Remus Lupin.
James looked up at Remus, who was rubbing his eyes as he crosses the kitchen to pour the boiled water into his assigned mug. His movements are habitual, comfortable like the house has become muscle memory now.
“Tea?” he asks, glazing at James over his shoulder.
“Please,” James says immediately, leaning back against the counter as the quiet settles comfortably. Remus matches James’ stance across from him, leaning back against the counter, arms folded loosely, facing him.
James doesn't move, he just watches him. Remus, standing there and up before 7:30, more coherent than James thought possible, coming from Sirius’ room. He must have slept well, James thinks, feeling that familiar pang of suspecting something but not knowing quite how to approach it.
Remus notices, he always does, but doesn't comment. He knows the look James is giving him, always wearing his curiosity openly like he never had any reason to learn how to hide it.
“Moony?” James says, eventually, soft and careful like his thoughts are still tossing between whether to speak or keep it to himself. But James had never been good at that. Keeping secrets, yes, forever if one wishes, but never one to keep something in.
Remus hums in response, eyes lifting to James.
James hesitates, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck, eyes darting once to the doorway as if making sure no one could be listening, then back to Remus. Remus finally hands over James’s mug, quiet settling again as Remus looks back, brow creasing like he can already sense somethings the matter.
“You alright?” Remus asks, his voice gentle and sleepy, and James almost feels bad for thinking of bringing it up. Almost. But someone's got to ask the important questions, and when ones got the rare mixture of Remus alone and awake before anyone else, laid there before them…
“Yeah,” He stops, then starts again. “Yeah. I just.. Well, I don't want to say something wrong here.”
Remus’s frown doesn’t deepen but shifts with the confused tilt of his head, his heart giving an unhelpful jump. “James.”
James sighs, a loud breath pushed out through his nostrils. When he looks up again, he meets Remus's eyes properly this time. “I know you.. Care about Sirius.” He says, quietly.
“Obviously, we all do, but..”
Remus’ chest tightens ever so slightly, his pulse stutters guiltily and then picks up, loud and on edge in his ears. “What do you mean” he asks, carefully.
James hesitates again, clearly choosing his words with almost painful care, slow and important and treated with delicacy. When he speaks, it comes out a little faster than intended, as if he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve.
“It’s just, the way you’re there for him. You know he has nightmares and.. I guess Peters snoring would echo in that spare room but..” He winces slightly. “It’s different. How close you are. If i were having nightmares, or anyone else, I can’t imagine you doing the same. Even under the excuse of Peter snoring.”
Remus’ cheeks warm immediately, a flush creeping up his neck, uninvited and telling. He straightens his posture a little, squaring his shoulders in instinctive defensiveness.
James clocks it and pauses instantly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-”
“No,” Remus says quickly, too quickly. “it’s – its fine. I just, I dont–”
James lifts a hand. “I’m.. not accusing you of anything. Or, y’know, pushing. I swear.”
He swallows and then continues more gently. ‘I just wondered.. If maybe it’s because its not the same with him as it would be with me. Or Peter. If I’d have asked you to come and sleep with me, not that I don't think – well, you would If i asked nicely but–”
Remus’ jaw tightens like he knows where this is going. He looks away, eyes fixed on the window, the soft light washing over the garden. His grip on the mug tightens, bracing himself until his knuckles begin to pale. James goes still.
“Im sorry.” he says again, “I– that was– that came out wrong.”
Remus exhales slowly, visibly forcing himself to relax. When he speaks, his voice is quieter, steadier, but there's an undercurrent of something fragile and insecure, as if he knew this day would come eventually but hadn't quite braced himself or sorted through the outcomes in their entirety. Then, Remus remembers this is James, James who took on his werewolf secret with a grin and a pat on the back like it was just something Remus had told him over coffee. James who could keep a secret like his life depended on it, and loved with so much loyalty that even a look from him in a situation out of Remus’ control would make him feel just that bit more secure. That it would be ok.
“It’s okay,” he says, “You’re not wrong to ask.”
James blinks. “I’m not?”
Remus shakes his head slowly. “No.”
There's a long pause. Remus stares at his tea as if it is suddenly very important, like he can find his thoughts translated into words there and read it off like a script without making any mistakes. James waits. He always has.
“I know I dont talk about myself much.” Remus says finally. “I’ve never been good at it.”
“I know,” James says gently. ”That's kind of why im asking.”
He hesitates another moment and then adds, earnest and sincere, “You know I wouldn’t say anything. Ever. I’ve kept your secret for years.” He says, voice careful still like Remus might unfurl. “I just want to be there for you, too.”
Remus’ throat tightens at that.
James continues, stepping carefully closer to the truth without directly naming it. “I know you’ve never dated girls. Or talked about wanting to. And that’s fine. Completely fine. I just thought we all tried so hard to get you a girl and.. I guess now I see it a little clearer.”
Then, he risks a glance at Remus. “That maybe you.. like Sirius.”
Remus closes his eyes and for a moment, James thinks he’s pushed too far. Then Remus opens his eyes, glassy and bright with nervous emotion that he’s been keeping a tight lid on for far too long.
“It’s not… simple,” Remus whispers, eyes looking down in a motion of shame. Shame that James can see through him so easily despite having had this side of him on absolute lockdown since.. Forever.
James nods. “I didn’t think it would be.”
Remus lets out a breath that trembles only slightly. “I don’t like him in the way people like someone when they fancy them and… and its easy and harmless and–”
James’ heart gives a tiny, painful squeeze.
“I like him,” Remus whispers, his voice steadying only as he speaks, “the way you like someone when they feel like home.”
He swallows around the tightness in his throat, reminding himself this is just James. “When they’re the first and only person you think of when something goes wrong. When you measure your days on whether or not they’re okay,”
James doesnt dare interrupt. His gaze is set on Remus, so intently listening its showing in the way his eyes zero in on him.
“Thats why this… I–,” He sighs, frustrated at his lack of words despite the embarrassing shame that comes with the knowledge that James knows. That James guessed it. “I trust him with something I don’t give to anyone.”
His eyes flick back to James, and in every ounce of his being, he is grateful that he is staying quiet. James nods slowly, understanding settling in his chest like a weight and a steady, solid relief all at once. He listens intently despite knowing that this is groundbreaking. That Remus, Moony, is opening up about something that is so… He’s opening up and he doesnt know that Sirius feels the same. He’s opening up because James approached it in a certain manner that gave off a sense of safety and security and not because Remus knows the result is worth it. Because he trusts James even if on the odd chance this whole thing crumbles at his feet.
The kettle clicks softly as it cools, the sunlight creeps higher up on the wall. Upstairs Sirius remains asleep and unaware of the quiet disarming sense of understanding downstairs.
James doesnt speak straight away. He lets that quiet stretch again, a thoughtful weight to it rather than purely heavy, and he shifts a little closer to where Remus is leaning against the counter looking all small. Not crowding, just there. Close enough to say I hear you and I’m sorry that the world is so unaccepting. I’m sorry you feel so scared and ashamed to tell me this.
Remus of course, notices, and his shoulders tense just a fraction before easing again, as if reminding himself that James Potter has never once hurt him.
“Can I ask you something else?” James says.
Remus swallows. Nods. “You usually do, anyway.”
James huffs a laugh, relieved. He turns his mug in his hands then looks back at Remus with that honest, open and earnest expression that makes it almost impossible to lie to him. “Does anyone else know?” He asks. “About… all this?”
Remus blinks, “What– that I?” He stops, lips pressed thin to halt it in a decision lead by lingering nerves. He takes a short but deep breath. “No. Not really.”
James tilts his head. “Not really?”
Remus hesitates before speaking, licking his lips briefly then admits, “Lily.”
James’ brows lift, a small smile on his face. “Evans?”
Remus nods. “She… sort of, told me?”
James stares at him a second and then laughs, sharp and fond and understanding. “Course she did. Bloody hell.”
Remus smiles, ever so faintly. “Shes like that, isn’t she? Noticing things all the time. Puts them together before you’re ready.”
James shakes his head, looking up as his expression softens at the lack of relief on Remus’ face. “And me?”
Remus’ fingers slip past the cuffs of his sweater, curling into his sleeve. “You're… the first I’ve actually said it to.”
The words feel strange and fragile once they’re out. Almost otherworldly to Remus, not fitting for this reality, this kitchen, this space. Though real in a way they’ve never quite felt before echoing in his own head. James goes still.
“Yeah” he says, quietly.
Remus nods, eyes now fixed stubbornly on the kitchen tiles.
James lets out a slow breath, one that feels like it belongs to a feeling of relief going to someone more deserving of it. Not to Remus, who feels so pathetic about it all. “Well. I’m honoured.”
Remus glances up quickly despite himself, surprised. “You are..?”
“Yeah,” James says simply. “It’s not easy.” He smiles, before shrugging, giving him a real and honest look that means more to Remus than James will ever know. “Means you trust me.”
Remus’ throat tightens further, looking away quickly, embarrassed by how hard and much it lands. James watches him for a moment, then asks – carefully, almost as though he’s stepping around something precious and barley holding itself together – “Are you… you know. Gay?”
Remus freezes at the words, sharp and harsh despite the gentle tone and the softness to avoid it feeling so crushing. Its unavoidable, really, what with all the negativity in the world. For a half second, panic flashes, white and hot – reflexive, old and ingrained. He bites his lip, eyes darting away, shoulders hunching like he’s prepared to walk the plank and meet his unfavourable yet inevtiable, deserving fate.
“I—” He shrugs, helpless. “I think so.”
James waits.
Remus looks, finally. He nods. Small. Scared and final, giving in, giving up.
James’ face breaks into a grin whether he wants it to or not, like its in his nature to accept Remus’ answer with open arms, smile so bright and honest it almost hurts to look at.
“Thats good,” He says immediately. “That’s great.”
Remus stares, frowning slightly. “It… is?”
“Yeah!” James says, baffled by Remus’ question as if he is shocked to realise he had expected anything less of him, even if it took a moment for him to catch up. “Obviously.”
Something in Remus’ chest loosens, just a little. He smiles – soft and uncertain but real nonetheless. “I’ve never… said it like that.”
James’ grin gentles, “Yeah?”
Remus nods. “Lily, sort of just… threw it at me. Informed me, very kindly. Over tea. Like she was telling me I’d left my jumper somewhere and she’d found it.”
James laughs again, giving Remus a fond smile. “That is so Lily.”
There is another pause, after the mention of Lily, though lighter now Remus still feels the need to fill it, suddenly anxious at the reminder in his head.
“I don’t– this doesn’t mean,’ I–” He rushes uncharacteristically, cheeks flushing, “I promise I don’t like you. Not like that and… it’s not… I’m not going to be weird.”
James recoils dramatically, clutching at his chest. “Excuse you?”
Remus startles. “...What?”
“You’re telling me,” James says, wounded, expertly pulling it off in a way only James can. “That I’m not attractive to you at all?”
Remus still manages to snort despite himself. “That’s not what I said.”
“That is exactly what you said.”
“I said… I implied that you’re not my type.”
James gasps, frowning, scandalized. “I’ve never felt so utterly insulted in my life.”
Remus laughs, properly this time, warm and earnest and relieving. “You’ll survive.”
James squints, rolling his eyes playfully. “What is your type? Musical poets? Brooding guitar players?”
Remus flushes, shaking his head with a smile still woven into his open expression. “Shut up.”
James grins in victory, then, a little more tentatively he asks, “Have you ever… been with anyone?”
Remus’ flush deepens immediately, blooming vivid and hot across his cheeks and ears. He shakes his head.
James’ grin doesnt soften, only leans forward in a playful motion of mateship, of trust. He studies him for a moment, then deliberately casually, he says “For what its worth, I do get the hype.”
Remus frowns, “What hype?”
“Sirius.” james says deadpan. “I mean. He’s ridiculously hot.”
Remus laughs, shaking his head a little startled. “Oh shut up.”
“I'm serious!”
“You’re… an idiot.”
James grins, then adds, eyes bright and honest, “You are too, though.”
Remus sputters, cheeks still pink and a laugh still blooming in his chest. “James.”
“I’m just saying,” James laughs back, cheerful. “You’re a proper hottie. And the scars? Badass. Absolutely devastating, bloody fit you are.”
Remus flushes crimson, mortified. “Stop.”
“I bet Sirius is drooling into his pillow dreaming about–” James cuts himself off, abrupt and overly happy to move on. “-- Uh, anyway!”
Remus stares at him, blinking, embarrassed and teased but in a good, fond and friendly way. He doesnt catch the stumble, too busy being mortified.
“Right.” He mutters, pushing off the counter and turning back towards the kettle quickly, in order to hide his face. “I’m making another tea.”
James lets him, and he moves into the living room to sit by the fire. When Remus finally comes in with his tea, all dark and milk-less, lacking sugar and in James’ opinion, everything that makes tea good. James stands, allowing Remus to place his mug down before pulling him into a hug without warning. Firm, warm, unmistakably affectionate.
“I love you, Moony.” He says into Remus’ hair. “And we should really talk like this more often. You should talk more.”
Remus exhales into the hug, hands curling just ever so lightly into James’ jumper, “I know.”
“Theres only so much advice Sirius can give you,” James adds quietly. “Only so much you can tell the person you’re in love with.”
Remus nods against his shoulder, hugging him just a tinsy bit tighter in an action of wordless appreciation.
“Yeah,” He murmurs. “I know.”