Fic - How Soon Is Now? - Remus/Sirius - R
NOTE: Written for the rs_games 2010.
Team: Team AU
Title: How Soon Is Now?
Author: lotherington
Rating: R for language
Contains: Lots of blue language
Genre(s): Hurt/Comfort, Drama
Wordcount: 1715
Summary: Four snapshots of the life of Remus Lupin, a young striking miner, and the start of his relationship with Sirius Black, a grammar school boy and son of a local councillor.
Notes: Set during the 1984-85 UK Miners’ strike. Dialogue-heavy and largely gen - despite my best efforts to make it a bit smutty!
Prompt: 48 - ‘You are the music while the music lasts.’ T. S. Eliot
October, 1984, Sheffield, South Yorkshire.
‘What the fuck are you lookin’ at?’ Remus Lupin spat, turning and squaring up to the lad he’d caught watching him out of the corner of his eye. ‘What the fuck you lookin’ at, eh?’ He stalked over to the other man, the can of red paint he’d been using still in his hand.
‘I... I wasn’t... I didn’t...’
‘Looked like you were pretty fuckin’ interested a second ago,’ Remus said, his thick Sheffield accent a sharp contrast to the other man’s RP. He moved in closer, intimidating, his brown eyes hard and unblinking. His face was illuminated under the orange glow of one of the few street lamps dotted around, his nose and hair throwing half of his face into shadow.
‘No,’ the man said, his voice weak as he shook his head, his too-long dark hair falling round his face.
‘Good,’ Remus said quietly. ‘Why don’t you run ‘ome now then, and let your Mam tuck you up in bed?’ He smirked. ‘It’s gettin’ late.’
‘I... I really wasn’t, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...’
‘I ent interested in an apology,’ Remus said, frowning again. ‘Just clear out, will you?’
‘Sorry,’ the lad said again, hanging his head and walking off quickly down the road, glancing back for one last look at the words Remus had emblazoned on the wall of the council building, the angry red of the foot-high letters standing out clearly against the brick.
COAL
NOT
DOLE
~*~
‘You ‘adn’t better of grassed,’ Remus muttered, glaring at the same young man who’d caught him spraying his politics over the bricks of the council house as he slid into a seat at the same table in the cafe he usually sat in to keep warm in the afternoon.
The man lifted his head from his book, clearly surprised. ‘I... I didn’t say anything,’ he said quietly, closing his book and making space for Remus and his mug of tea, made out of brown glass so that you could still see the teabag that Remus had stewing in there.
‘You better not’ve done,’ Remus said, glaring, tapping his forefinger and thumb on the plastic table between them, staring the other man down. It didn’t take much for him to avert his gaze.
‘I didn’t, I swear,’ he murmured, looking down at the table. ‘I wouldn’t.’
Remus didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘What are you doin’ in a place like this?’ he asked eventually. ‘We don’t get your sort in ‘ere very often.’
‘My Dad won’t find me here,’ the lad replied, still not looking at Remus, who smirked.
‘Like that, then?’ he said.
The lad nodded.
After a moment’s hesitation, Remus extended his rough, work-hardened hand across the table. ‘Remus Lupin,’ he said, his voice nowhere near as harsh as it had been when he’d sat down.
‘Sirius Black,’ the lad said, taking Remus’s hand and looking up at him with a slight smile.
‘What is it you’re reading, Sirius Black?’ Remus asked, leaning back and sipping his tea, wrapping his hand right round the mug. He pulled a face at the bitterness and pulled the teabag out, squeezing it between his fingertips before placing it in the ashtray on the table, pulling the sugar bowl towards himself and spooning some in, stirring with the sugar spoon before putting it back in the bowl.
‘Brideshead Revisited,’ Sirius said. ‘It’s, uh, it’s required reading for the A-Level but I’m enjoying it. I don’t suppose you’ve read it?’
‘You suppose right,’ Remus said, raising his eyebrows at Sirius, taking the book in his hands and flipping it over to read the back cover.
‘Oh,’ Sirius said.
‘Oh indeed,’ Remus muttered, handing Sirius his book back.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘Why is it you’re so bloody terrified of your old man findin’ you, then?’ Remus asked, sniffing, sipping his tea again.
‘I’m meant to be playing rugby at the minute,’ Sirius said quietly, a note of contempt in his voice.
‘You’re bunkin’ off?’ Remus said, grinning for a brief moment. ‘P’raps I shouldn’t have written you off after all.’
Sirius smiled awkwardly.
‘Suppose it’s the grammar you go to, then?’
‘Yeah,’ Sirius said with a nod.
‘I see.’
Again, Remus was quiet.
‘I’m in the upper sixth,’ Sirius explained, perhaps through there being a lack of conversation, a slightly uneasy silence. ‘Which school do you go to?’
Remus huffed through his nose and shook his head. ‘I don’t go to one.’
‘Oh. You look young enough.’
‘I am. I started work eighteen month ago. M’nineteen next year.’
‘You’re the same age as me,’ Sirius said, trying a smile.
‘I don’t feel it,’ Remus replied, sipping his tea, looking out of the window at a group of girls running past in P.E. kit.
‘Are... are you a miner?’ Sirius asked after a short silence between them.
‘Got that far on your own, did you?’
‘I... I just thought, I mean, what you were...’
‘I’m a miner.’
Sirius nodded. ‘I didn’t tell anyone,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
Remus frowned and leant across the table. ‘Good. Because if you have done...’
‘I haven’t. I haven’t.’
‘Stop actin’ like you’ve got a guilty conscience, then,’ Remus muttered, drinking some more of his tea.
‘Sorry.’
‘S’alright,’ Remus said, draining his mug and standing up. ‘I’d best be off.’ He zipped his worn bomber jacket up and shoved his hands in his pockets, giving Sirius a nod. ‘Thanks,’ he said, barely audible.
‘What for?’
‘Not tellin’ anyone,’ he said, flashing Sirius the slightest of smiles. ‘Right, I’m off.’
‘Um, see you,’ Sirius said and Remus held up his hand in a farewell as he left the cafe.
~*~
‘Why were you so scared of your dad findin’ you the other day, then?’ Remus asked, taking a chip out of Sirius’s bag, the newspaper soaked through with vinegar. They were sat on a bench outside the chip shop, opposite a pub, the wind blowing Sirius’s hair around and reddening Remus’s cheeks.
‘Oh, you wouldn’t be interested,’ Sirius muttered, digging around in the bag.
‘You don’t get to decide what I am and aren’t interested in,’ Remus said, bringing his foot up to rest on the bench, pulling his corduroy trousers tighter over his knees.
Sirius glanced at Remus, clearly uncertain.
‘Go on,’ Remus urged.
‘He’s on the council,’ Sirius said quietly. ‘Catching me bunking off would be the end of his career, or it would if you believed what he said.’
‘Your dad’s on the council?’ Remus said, very quietly. Sirius nodded.
‘Your dad’s on the council and you saw me vandalisin’ council property and you didn’t tell him? You picked [i]my[/i] side over your dad’s?’
‘I... I don’t agree with what’s happening to -- to, well, people in your situation. The miners. And besides, you’re terrifying.’
Remus laughed and looked up at the sky, the stars largely obscured by pollution and cloud. ‘D’you want to go and see a film?’
‘I’d like that,’ Sirius said, smiling.
‘Eat your chips then, lad. You’re payin’.’
‘Fine by me.’ His smile widened, and so did Remus’s.
~*~
A month passed, and winter and the strike bit harder. Many of the miners gave up, gave in, got tired and went back to work, went back down the pits. Not Remus, nor Remus’s dad, nor any of his family. They were struggling; every day was a struggle. Remus had resorted to scavenging for bits of coal on the slag heaps near the pit so they might keep warm for a night or two. Whatever he found never lasted long enough, and they’d lost two wooden chairs and an old bathroom counter to the effort of keeping the house heated. His family were now completely reliant on charity, whatever the miners’ wives could get from bucket-shaking in the town centre, whatever their friends and better-off relations could spare to lend them. They ate whatever had been donated - again, whatever was given to them.
Remus couldn’t bear it. It wasn’t fair. His family needed more - they deserved more. His Mam wasn’t well and his Da had no idea what to do with being away from the pit for so long and the house was too small, too small for the three of them. Sheffield was too small for the three of them.
He escaped whenever he could. Out the house, down the road, left at the corner, left again, carry on a bit, right, and then down the footpath to where he met Sirius most days.
‘How’s it gone today?’ Sirius asked when Remus appeared round the corner.
‘Shit,’ Remus muttered, his hands shoved in his pockets, his repeatedly-darned scarf wrapped tightly around his throat. ‘Too fuckin’ cold for words in that house, lad, and there’s nowt else I can do to keep it warm.’
Sirius didn’t say anything. They walked along the by-now familiar path into a small wooded area, where Remus suspected tramps lived for the most of the year. ‘I wish I could help,’ he murmured eventually.
‘Nowt you can do without attracting your dad’s attention,’ Remus said, pulling half a cigarette he’d been saving since he conned it off somebody at the pub, lighting it and holding it between his lips.
‘That’s not true,’ Sirius said quietly. Remus heard him take a breath before he felt a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m here.’
Remus leant back into the touch and sighed. ‘Cheers,’ he murmured, letting a breath go. ‘Really.’
Sirius smiled and hesitated for a second before he moved his hand lower down Remus’s back, stopping near his waist. He took another deep breath in before he wrapped his arms around Remus and pulled him in gently. ‘I’m here,’ he whispered. ‘I’m here.’
Team: Team AU
Title: How Soon Is Now?
Author: lotherington
Rating: R for language
Contains: Lots of blue language
Genre(s): Hurt/Comfort, Drama
Wordcount: 1715
Summary: Four snapshots of the life of Remus Lupin, a young striking miner, and the start of his relationship with Sirius Black, a grammar school boy and son of a local councillor.
Notes: Set during the 1984-85 UK Miners’ strike. Dialogue-heavy and largely gen - despite my best efforts to make it a bit smutty!
Prompt: 48 - ‘You are the music while the music lasts.’ T. S. Eliot
October, 1984, Sheffield, South Yorkshire.
‘What the fuck are you lookin’ at?’ Remus Lupin spat, turning and squaring up to the lad he’d caught watching him out of the corner of his eye. ‘What the fuck you lookin’ at, eh?’ He stalked over to the other man, the can of red paint he’d been using still in his hand.
‘I... I wasn’t... I didn’t...’
‘Looked like you were pretty fuckin’ interested a second ago,’ Remus said, his thick Sheffield accent a sharp contrast to the other man’s RP. He moved in closer, intimidating, his brown eyes hard and unblinking. His face was illuminated under the orange glow of one of the few street lamps dotted around, his nose and hair throwing half of his face into shadow.
‘No,’ the man said, his voice weak as he shook his head, his too-long dark hair falling round his face.
‘Good,’ Remus said quietly. ‘Why don’t you run ‘ome now then, and let your Mam tuck you up in bed?’ He smirked. ‘It’s gettin’ late.’
‘I... I really wasn’t, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...’
‘I ent interested in an apology,’ Remus said, frowning again. ‘Just clear out, will you?’
‘Sorry,’ the lad said again, hanging his head and walking off quickly down the road, glancing back for one last look at the words Remus had emblazoned on the wall of the council building, the angry red of the foot-high letters standing out clearly against the brick.
COAL
NOT
DOLE
~*~
‘You ‘adn’t better of grassed,’ Remus muttered, glaring at the same young man who’d caught him spraying his politics over the bricks of the council house as he slid into a seat at the same table in the cafe he usually sat in to keep warm in the afternoon.
The man lifted his head from his book, clearly surprised. ‘I... I didn’t say anything,’ he said quietly, closing his book and making space for Remus and his mug of tea, made out of brown glass so that you could still see the teabag that Remus had stewing in there.
‘You better not’ve done,’ Remus said, glaring, tapping his forefinger and thumb on the plastic table between them, staring the other man down. It didn’t take much for him to avert his gaze.
‘I didn’t, I swear,’ he murmured, looking down at the table. ‘I wouldn’t.’
Remus didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘What are you doin’ in a place like this?’ he asked eventually. ‘We don’t get your sort in ‘ere very often.’
‘My Dad won’t find me here,’ the lad replied, still not looking at Remus, who smirked.
‘Like that, then?’ he said.
The lad nodded.
After a moment’s hesitation, Remus extended his rough, work-hardened hand across the table. ‘Remus Lupin,’ he said, his voice nowhere near as harsh as it had been when he’d sat down.
‘Sirius Black,’ the lad said, taking Remus’s hand and looking up at him with a slight smile.
‘What is it you’re reading, Sirius Black?’ Remus asked, leaning back and sipping his tea, wrapping his hand right round the mug. He pulled a face at the bitterness and pulled the teabag out, squeezing it between his fingertips before placing it in the ashtray on the table, pulling the sugar bowl towards himself and spooning some in, stirring with the sugar spoon before putting it back in the bowl.
‘Brideshead Revisited,’ Sirius said. ‘It’s, uh, it’s required reading for the A-Level but I’m enjoying it. I don’t suppose you’ve read it?’
‘You suppose right,’ Remus said, raising his eyebrows at Sirius, taking the book in his hands and flipping it over to read the back cover.
‘Oh,’ Sirius said.
‘Oh indeed,’ Remus muttered, handing Sirius his book back.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘Why is it you’re so bloody terrified of your old man findin’ you, then?’ Remus asked, sniffing, sipping his tea again.
‘I’m meant to be playing rugby at the minute,’ Sirius said quietly, a note of contempt in his voice.
‘You’re bunkin’ off?’ Remus said, grinning for a brief moment. ‘P’raps I shouldn’t have written you off after all.’
Sirius smiled awkwardly.
‘Suppose it’s the grammar you go to, then?’
‘Yeah,’ Sirius said with a nod.
‘I see.’
Again, Remus was quiet.
‘I’m in the upper sixth,’ Sirius explained, perhaps through there being a lack of conversation, a slightly uneasy silence. ‘Which school do you go to?’
Remus huffed through his nose and shook his head. ‘I don’t go to one.’
‘Oh. You look young enough.’
‘I am. I started work eighteen month ago. M’nineteen next year.’
‘You’re the same age as me,’ Sirius said, trying a smile.
‘I don’t feel it,’ Remus replied, sipping his tea, looking out of the window at a group of girls running past in P.E. kit.
‘Are... are you a miner?’ Sirius asked after a short silence between them.
‘Got that far on your own, did you?’
‘I... I just thought, I mean, what you were...’
‘I’m a miner.’
Sirius nodded. ‘I didn’t tell anyone,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
Remus frowned and leant across the table. ‘Good. Because if you have done...’
‘I haven’t. I haven’t.’
‘Stop actin’ like you’ve got a guilty conscience, then,’ Remus muttered, drinking some more of his tea.
‘Sorry.’
‘S’alright,’ Remus said, draining his mug and standing up. ‘I’d best be off.’ He zipped his worn bomber jacket up and shoved his hands in his pockets, giving Sirius a nod. ‘Thanks,’ he said, barely audible.
‘What for?’
‘Not tellin’ anyone,’ he said, flashing Sirius the slightest of smiles. ‘Right, I’m off.’
‘Um, see you,’ Sirius said and Remus held up his hand in a farewell as he left the cafe.
~*~
‘Why were you so scared of your dad findin’ you the other day, then?’ Remus asked, taking a chip out of Sirius’s bag, the newspaper soaked through with vinegar. They were sat on a bench outside the chip shop, opposite a pub, the wind blowing Sirius’s hair around and reddening Remus’s cheeks.
‘Oh, you wouldn’t be interested,’ Sirius muttered, digging around in the bag.
‘You don’t get to decide what I am and aren’t interested in,’ Remus said, bringing his foot up to rest on the bench, pulling his corduroy trousers tighter over his knees.
Sirius glanced at Remus, clearly uncertain.
‘Go on,’ Remus urged.
‘He’s on the council,’ Sirius said quietly. ‘Catching me bunking off would be the end of his career, or it would if you believed what he said.’
‘Your dad’s on the council?’ Remus said, very quietly. Sirius nodded.
‘Your dad’s on the council and you saw me vandalisin’ council property and you didn’t tell him? You picked [i]my[/i] side over your dad’s?’
‘I... I don’t agree with what’s happening to -- to, well, people in your situation. The miners. And besides, you’re terrifying.’
Remus laughed and looked up at the sky, the stars largely obscured by pollution and cloud. ‘D’you want to go and see a film?’
‘I’d like that,’ Sirius said, smiling.
‘Eat your chips then, lad. You’re payin’.’
‘Fine by me.’ His smile widened, and so did Remus’s.
~*~
A month passed, and winter and the strike bit harder. Many of the miners gave up, gave in, got tired and went back to work, went back down the pits. Not Remus, nor Remus’s dad, nor any of his family. They were struggling; every day was a struggle. Remus had resorted to scavenging for bits of coal on the slag heaps near the pit so they might keep warm for a night or two. Whatever he found never lasted long enough, and they’d lost two wooden chairs and an old bathroom counter to the effort of keeping the house heated. His family were now completely reliant on charity, whatever the miners’ wives could get from bucket-shaking in the town centre, whatever their friends and better-off relations could spare to lend them. They ate whatever had been donated - again, whatever was given to them.
Remus couldn’t bear it. It wasn’t fair. His family needed more - they deserved more. His Mam wasn’t well and his Da had no idea what to do with being away from the pit for so long and the house was too small, too small for the three of them. Sheffield was too small for the three of them.
He escaped whenever he could. Out the house, down the road, left at the corner, left again, carry on a bit, right, and then down the footpath to where he met Sirius most days.
‘How’s it gone today?’ Sirius asked when Remus appeared round the corner.
‘Shit,’ Remus muttered, his hands shoved in his pockets, his repeatedly-darned scarf wrapped tightly around his throat. ‘Too fuckin’ cold for words in that house, lad, and there’s nowt else I can do to keep it warm.’
Sirius didn’t say anything. They walked along the by-now familiar path into a small wooded area, where Remus suspected tramps lived for the most of the year. ‘I wish I could help,’ he murmured eventually.
‘Nowt you can do without attracting your dad’s attention,’ Remus said, pulling half a cigarette he’d been saving since he conned it off somebody at the pub, lighting it and holding it between his lips.
‘That’s not true,’ Sirius said quietly. Remus heard him take a breath before he felt a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m here.’
Remus leant back into the touch and sighed. ‘Cheers,’ he murmured, letting a breath go. ‘Really.’
Sirius smiled and hesitated for a second before he moved his hand lower down Remus’s back, stopping near his waist. He took another deep breath in before he wrapped his arms around Remus and pulled him in gently. ‘I’m here,’ he whispered. ‘I’m here.’