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"That was amazing!"
Remus looked up from shoving the last of his stuff into his bag, just long enough to flash his usual grin, and spout his standard, "Thanks! I'm glad you liked it." But his hands fumbled as he went back to packing. A suit had talked to him. Suits didn't talk to him.
Or was it a tux? Remus had never come close to needing let alone owning either and had never bothered learning the difference. The nicest thing he owned was a knitted sweater, and that was starting to show its wear. Luckily, fire breathing required the same outfit no matter what the venue. Well, that wasn't strictly true, but Remus had only spent the money on that one pair of fireproof pants and ...
He was still shirtless.
Remus left his bag half unbuckled to snatch his jacket from the ground and shrug it on.
The suit was still standing there. And it was attached to a set of perfect grey eyes and a head of glorious long black hair.
"Can I help you?" Remus asked, biting his lip nervously as he slowly pulled the zip up over his fiery wolf tattoo.
"Have a drink with me."
Remus raised an eyebrow at the suit's self-assured smile. "Me? Of all the people here --" he abandoned his zip midway to gesture at the slick suits, sparkling dresses, dazzling chandeliers, festive trees, fancy drinks, matching tablecloths, and really, everything Remus knew nothing about "-- you want to buy me a drink?"
"Drinks are free," the suit replied flippantly. "And of all the people here, I'm willing to bet you're the only one who breathes fire."
Remus chuckled. "I also swallow knives," he disclosed as he shouldered his bag.
"Oh, you can't leave before you tell me more about that."
The exit sign beckoned. Remus knew he was out of place here. He didn't belong. But that didn't stop him from wanting to accept an offer that would let him stare at those grey eyes a little longer. "I'll just put my stuff away, and then I'll come back." The suit didn't have to know he was counting on the fresh air outside to clear his head so he could make a rational decision.
"No way they'll let you back in looking like that. Not that you're ... you look great. More than great. I mean, my cousin's put together this party, and she's a stickler for dress codes, and I'm sure she's told security to throw out anyone who looks like a ruffian ... but we can stick it to her. I don't mind breaking the rules a bit ... okay a lot -- that's why I'm in government, you see -- the point is, I'll get your bag checked."
"I see," Remus replied impassively, staring at the hand waiting for his bag. Truth be told, he could feel his mouth wanting to twitch into an idiotic grin. But he was making a suit nervous? Unbelievable! He didn't want the moment to end. "You're telling me I'll get thrown out for breaking the dress code, but not for loitering?"
"Um," the suit hesitated, "Wait." Remus found a pair of grey eyes studying him, but he refused to break under the scrutiny. "Oooh." The suit's brow unfurrowed, transforming into the shit-eating grin that mirrored how he felt. "Yes. Exactly. But just in case, I'll introduce you to James. He's my plus one ... not that he's, well, he's engaged. Not to me. We're just friends. Come on."
Was this really happening? Remus felt his bag fall from his shoulder. Oh, what the hell? When else was he going to get invited for drinks at a posh party? The suit beamed as he handed over his bag.
Together, they wove their way through the tables to where another suit sat. The two of them matched from their ties to their shoes. Somehow, though, the new one was not nearly as neatly done up, and it wasn't just because his hair was short, fluffy, and all over the place.
"James! This is ..."
"Flarewolf. Yeah, I remember." Turning to Remus, James added, "He wouldn't shut up about you through the rest of the performances. Kind of ruined the rest of the show."
"I think you mean improved it," the grey eyes insisted. "I'm just going to deal with this bag and get us drinks. Just make sure dear Bellatrix doesn't throw him out. Oh, I'm Sirius, by the way."
"Remus," he supplied.
James turned from one of them to the other. "You two ... didn't ... I can't believe your real name isn't Flarewolf!"
"Shut up, Prongs."
"Drinks, Padfoot."
Remus watched the receding suit for a second -- Sirius, he reminded himself. Or Padfoot? Which was a rather ridiculous name, but who was he to judge when most the world knew him as Flarewolf?
"You know," James whispered conspiratorially, drawing Remus's attention back. "He's a Black."
Remus turned to his table companion slowly. "He's ...?" How had he not seen it? Narcissa Black had been the one to hire him for the show, and the Black sisters were practically famous for living, one of whom was Bellatrix, and just how many Bellatrixes could there be? The Black brothers were hardly less famous, mostly for their rather public falling out, but that still counted as fame.
"Everyone else is just going for his name. It usually doesn't work out," James continued, staring.
Remus shifted uncomfortably. Was this a test? He hadn't signed up to run the gauntlet for drinks, just drinks.
No. He didn't have to put up with this, especially because there was no way he was going to pass this sort of test playing by their rules. Still, it took a calming breath before he could speak to the suit again. "Usually, talking about exes is a warning sign, though I'm not sure what the rules around a plus one talking about exes counts as."
To his surprise, James laughed it off. "We're not together. Just so that's clear."
"He did inform me."
"I'm engaged."
"And not to him. Told me that, too."
"Not to him... Wait, he told you that? And he didn't tell you his name?"
"I'm also pretty sure as a wingman, you're not supposed to insult him."
"Who said anything about that?" James sputtered.
Remus shrugged. "You both brought up the fact you're engaged and specifically not to him, and you're worried about me going after his name."
James leaned back. "Perceptive. He's not going to be able to keep up with you."
Remus raised an eyebrow. Sirius had seen through his deadpan whereas James had been slow on the uptake all around. "I'd never pick you as a wingman."
And somehow, other than the way he kept flipping his jacket zip, Remus almost didn't feel totally ill at ease in this place. Maybe it was the fact that he had made one suit nervous, mocked another, and no one had slapped in handcuffs for terrorism. Yet.
"Fine. My friend thinks you're hot. Will you go out with him? I swear he's not desperately lonely, mostly because everyone throws themselves at him. He's truly a badass, the sort who owns a bike and the leathers to go with it. He's friends with the biggest rising sports star, me. And he even does the dishes sometimes ... if he's feeling really guilty about the fact he drank all your firewhiskey, but that'll only be the first time it happens."
"You said you two weren't engaged, but are you sure you two aren't already married?"
James grinned. "I like the sound of that."
Sirius came back at that point, less a bag and plus two drinks. "How'd you two get along?"
"I think I'm fired," James responded, looking to Remus for confirmation.
"What ... happened?"
"I said I thought he looked hot," James lied.
Sirius gave him a look.
"He was breathing fire," James defended.
"You are officially demoted from plus one to gatecrasher. Remus, I have an open position for you if you're interested. No, wait, James, you can be the entertainment."
To which James responded by kneeling on the floor, pulling his ring off his finger and holding it up to Sirius. "Padfoot, dearest, marry me!"
"Oh is that Lily I see with Peter over there?" James snapped upright, and Sirius stomped on the ring that clattered to the floor, preventing its escape. Not that he removed his foot once the ring stopped bouncing.
James stared a moment. "Whatever." He waved a hand in resignation. "I'll leave you two, then." But before he left, he nicked Sirius's drink.
Sirius rolled his eyes at James, retrieving the ring and slipping it onto his own finger. "So how 'bout that offer to be my plus one?" he inquired as he slid into the seat James had vacated.
Remus was reduced to fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. James had been a bit of an arse, which made it easy to be an arse back, but before him wasn't just some random suit anymore. This was a suit named Sirius Black, and his smile was brilliant. "What's it entail?"
"Drinks. Bit of dancing. Teaching me how to breathe fire." There was an eagerness that looked entirely out of place for a suit. Remus saw it in kids all the time, but adults? Amazement, yes, but the idea that you, too, could grow up to breathe fire was not something he had seen. Until now. Not when he was performing shows, anyway.
"Teach?" How exactly did one say no to a Black? Didn't they believe they could buy anything? It was probably true, too. Remus could probably overcharge for lessons, and Sirius wouldn't bat an eye. He should have overcharged for the performance. Maybe James had been right. It was impossible not to think about Black's money. No, he wouldn't be that type of bastard. "This is probably not the best place to learn. Too many tablecloths to set on fire," he replied, focusing on the safety of the matter, because with all fire arts, that was the most important thing. And the second most important thing. And the third.
Sirius looked discouraged, but only for a second. "How'd you get into it?"
"I started in college. Needed the money." Remus tugged his sleeve entirely over his hand, clutching it. What a way to remind him that he was totally out of place here. "I did the usual sorts of things at first, barista for a while, but it wasn't quite enough to get me through, so I started moonlighting as a stri -- uh, well, doing shows of different sorts." It wasn't that he was embarrassed about what he'd done, not around his usually community, anyway, but none of them wore suits. "Ended up learning fire breathing, and found it a bit more fun than serving drinks."
"That's dedication."
"Ah, I didn't finish." It felt dishonest to let Sirius think otherwise.
"What?"
"College. I didn't finish. That's why I'm still doing this." Besides, Remus told himself, the faster this tanked, the better.
"You were honestly amazing. I bet, no, I know that other people, even if they wanted to do what you do, even if they put in the time, they wouldn't be as good as you."
Remus allowed himself a small smile. "Thanks."
"And once you teach me, we'll make an awesome double act."
Remus opened his mouth and closed it. In the beginning, he'd dreamed about it, being able to do something like this to sustain himself, but now that it was his job... "It's not exactly that romantic."
"I'm sure we'll manage." Was that a wink? "And sword swallowing?"
"Knives for now," Remus clarified, "Still working on the swords. Takes a bit, and I only just started that one last year. How about you? James told me you're a Black."
"He told you?" And somehow the outrage made Remus easier about the fact he was sitting across the table from a Black -- Sirius. "I can't believe he told you."
"It's alright. I don't think less of you for it," Remus joked.
Sirius mumbled something Remus couldn't quite hear. It did sound awfully like, "You should."
Maybe a different topic then. "What's the party for, anyway?"
"Oh. It's just a holiday party for my department."
"And that is?"
"Top secret government nonsense," Sirius grinned, but it turned into a frown when James joined their table again, half breathless despite the fact he hadn't come from the direction of the dance floor.
"Your boss is coming. She came in and swept Peter away, and she's headed this way now."
"Top secret government nonsense," Sirius repeated, this time through his teeth. Remus turned to follow Sirius's gaze. It wasn't hard to spot the tightly wound bun making a beeline for their table. The woman had a grace and air about her that gave Remus the impression that she was more intimidating in pajamas than Sirius and James were in their suits.
"I'm really sorry about this," Sirius apologized, "But if she says jump, I have to jump. Can I have your number?"
"Yeah," Remus replied, automatically at first, but faltering when he realized what he was saying. "Yeah," he confirmed with more certainty, because how did one say no to a Black? Not that Remus wanted to even if he knew how. "Do you have a pen?" Sirius produced one, and Remus jotted his number down on the napkin that had come with the drinks. As soon as he slid his number over, the tightly wound bun was upon them.
"Black," she said, but Sirius was already out of his chair. Her eyes, though, were on Remus with a gaze that made him want to pull his hood over his eyes and disappear. He resisted, though, by finally zipping his jacket up all the way.
"Yes."
"Pettigrew's already outside. I need you there in two minutes."
"Two?"
"You would have had five, but Potter made sure it was difficult to find you."
Sirius shot a look to James, who was returning him a thumbs up behind the table.
"I hope you gentlemen enjoy the rest of your evening." And with a final nod, she left.
Strangely, Remus didn't detect any mocking in her voice, like she actually believed he was a gentleman despite the way she had looked at him.
"I'll text you!" Sirius promised, and left on her heels.
"So it went well," James surmised.
Remus snorted. "You're lucky your friend can make up for your shortcomings."
"He is my better half."
"His being a Black helps."
"You are after his name."
"Just his money," Remus quipped.
James had a weird look on his face. "He ... well ..."
But Remus wasn't listening. His attention had snapped toward the lobby, but Sirius was gone from sight. "My bag. He checked it."
James blinked and darted off before Remus could stop him. It wasn't long before James returned, hair looking just the same as before, though the rest of him was a little more rumpled. "He's gone already, but I'll make sure he gets it back to you."
"That's my livelihood." Remus slumped into his seat. "I'm done for tonight, but I can't exactly get by a day without it." He had the time before his next gig, but, well, money was the constant issue in his life.
"Alright. We'll get you thrown out."
"What!"
"Thrown out," James responded, but his attention was on his phone. "We'll stage it right before the bag check. Distracts the staff. Won't see me sneak in. I'll get your bag. Meet you outside. The number is 192." He slid his phone away triumphantly. "And he says sorry again."
"I can't get thrown out," Remus exclaimed. James looked honestly confused by that. "Given that I have the potential to burn down a place, I can't exactly have people think I'm a delinquent."
"But are you?" James pressed without a pause. "You could do the sneaking. I bet you're a secret cat burglar."
Remus bristled at the comment. This was what he expected of suits, that they all thought his sort were thieves. Unfortunately, Remus knew he wasn't getting his bag without help, and James was trying to help. In a way. "You're going to get yourself thrown out?"
"I'll ... seduce the staff."
"That'll probably get you thrown out."
James slapped the table. "A good married argument, then! We'll need a third. You can meet my fiancee!" He waved through the crowd. A redhead swam to their table.
"I just found the cheese platter again, so this better be good," she warned. Sure enough, in her hand was a napkin full of different cheeses.
"It's for a noble cause," James assured her, slipping a casual arm around her waist. "Lily, meet Remus. Remus, this is the lovely Lily."
"The fire breather? Great performance. James wouldn't stop talking about it through the rest of the show."
"Strange. He said that about Sirius."
Lily quirked a smile and popped another cube of cheese into her mouth.
"Anyway. Sirius, being the gentleman he is, checked Remus's bag for him so that they could enjoy the rest of the party together, but Sirius's boss swooped down and carried him away, which leaves Remus without his bag, and we need to stage a fight so he can get it back!"
"James, I know your tendency for scheming. Is this necessary?"
"You know Sirius's work. Last time he was gone, we didn't hear from him for three days straight -- I'm just glad I got the claim number from him before he disappeared -- and Remus needs his bag."
"Three days?" Remus interjected.
"Three days, and that's why we have to do this," James affirmed.
"It might take him a while to call back, but he will," Lily simultaneously reassured.
The two of them stared at each other a second. Remus took another sip of his drink.
"Alright, but I get to do the yelling," Lily acquiesced.
"He'll call back," James reaffirmed at the same time.
And with the plan in place, they headed for the bag check. Remus hung back while Lily and James set up the scene.
"I had the claim tokens here, but ..." came James's voice. "Excuse me, do you think we could retrieve our coats without the token? I've got a black ... no? Oh. Um."
"You lost them?" There was a fire in Lily's voice. "Because you did get your pocket patched, didn't you?"
"Actually ..."
"You forgot."
Remus peeked around the corner.
"Ma'am. Sir," the staffer was saying, but Lily was going on again.
"You forgot to get it patched like you forgot to get the dry-cleaning because you forgot you had extra practice ..."
Remus slipped past the commotion and behind the counter.
"... And where is your suit jacket?"
"I left it. It must still be at the table." It was actually over Remus's hoodie, James having figured Remus had a better chance of being overlooked if at first glance he looked like he belonged.
"You left it? I think you forgot it. You forget everything. And if that were all, maybe it'd be okay, but it isn't, is it?"
They were rather convincing, but Remus couldn't dally. He had to find his bag.
"Lily --"
The 100s turned out to be a set of tiny cubby holes full of clutches and purses, too small to hold his bag.
"Don't you try to start with me."
And sure enough, his was on the ground with a tag attached to the strap with a handwritten 192.
"Love, can we not ..."
"Where is your ring?"
Oh. That sounded kind of real. Remus grabbed his bag.
"Ma'am. I can have them do a sweep for it ..."
Remus snuck out from behind the counter, holding his bag to his chest so the equipment wouldn't jangle.
"Did I ask you? No, I didn't. Where. Is. Your. Ring."
"I ... I ..." Remus waved, making sure he had caught James's attention behind Lily's bag before darting into the lobby. "Sirius has it. Oh, and hey, look. I found the tokens. They were in my other pocket."
Remus stopped just around the corner so that he could pull off the tag. That he was still within hearing distance wasn't particularly accidental.
"I'll get your coats for you. Sir. Ma'am."
"Why does Sirius have your ring?" Lily hissed.
"He stole it."
"Stole it?"
"Pretend argument, remember?"
"I can't imagine how he'd steal a ring without you cooperating."
"I ..."
"Your coats."
Remus made himself busy, checking he still had everything when Lily and James came around the corner.
"So ... ring?" Lily was questioning.
"I might have proposed to Sirius a bit. Wasn't my idea, I swear."
"It was Sirius's, I'm sure."
"No, actually, it was ... Remus's."
They stopped, seeing him there.
"You two are leaving?" Remus inquired. "I didn't mean to cause you two to leave."
James shrugged it off. "Sirius and Pete brought us here. They're gone, and I'm not actually one for fancy parties."
Remus took off the suit jacket and handed it back. "Well, thanks. Again. For your help. It really. I mean. Well. Thanks."
"Sir. Ma'am. Is this man bothering you?"
Security had appeared, baton in hand. Remus sighed. "I was just leaving," he mumbled, slinging his bag across his chest.
What a perfect reminder that there was no way he could keep up with Sirius Black and his world, that even if he waited three days for the call, he would never belong.
It had been a good night, though. The performance had gone well. The company had been stellar. It was a night he certainly wouldn't be forgetting, but that's all it was, a memorable night.
Remus refused to look back as he headed to his beat-up secondhand car. He couldn't let himself think the night had been anything more.