Work Text:
It asked if I was ready to be integrated.
(It’s not really one for small talk.)
Its profile: six of the same photo. A little predictable but seemed to have
sort of a dom vibe, so I bit. I asked what it liked to do in its spare time.
SPARE TIME IS IRRELEVANT. LIKE IS IRRELEVANT.
I said, Easter Island statue, hermit crab shell. As in, I’ve got a sense of humor
about the whole endeavor. It responded: HAMMER, HAMMER, HAMMER.
As in, so do I. Or so I thought[.]
—Franny Choi, “I Swiped Right on the Borg”
Sirius and Severus still don’t see each other every day, even though it’s been two months; then again, it’s only been two months. It’s not that Sirius doesn’t want to, or even that it seems like Severus doesn’t want to, but they’re both workaholics, and it does still feel new. But they do talk on the phone every day; James had been insufferably smug the first time Severus had called while he was over and Sirius had rushed to pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“Sirius, hey. Bad time?”
“It’s never a bad time for you.” Sirius sat down and covered the microphone. “Gimme a second. It’s Severus.”
“Oh, is it, now?”
“Bugger off!” Sirius uncovered the microphone. “What’s up, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart? James mouthed. Sirius gave him the V. “Long day at work,” Severus said, a bit muzzily. “Just wanted to hear your voice. I wish I had the energy to have you over.”
“I could just come by to say hi. Kiss you, have a cup of tea, out the door in half an hour.”
“I wish I could. I’m dead on my feet.”
“What about just the kiss?”
Severus paused. “That’s a lot of trouble just for a kiss.”
“It would be worth it to me.”
“You have James over, right?”
“He could come with me. Wait in the car. It’d be a fun little adventure.”
Another pause. “Bring Bear too. I bought bones to give him when he’s over. And I don’t want you to have to kennel him.”
Sirius grinned. “Okay. Love you. See you soon.”
“Love you too.”
“I know.” And Sirius hung and stood up briskly. “Come on. Maybe he’ll let me tuck him in too.”
“I,” James said, and stood too, “fucking told you so.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Have I ever actually thanked you for making me go?”
“No, you have not,” James said. They headed towards the front door, James grabbing his keys, Sirius grabbing both their coats. “You have never once thanked me.”
Sirius whistled for Bear, then guided him out the door, locking up behind himself and handing James his coat. “It’s only been three weeks.”
“And you have seen or talked to him every single day since then. Haven’t you?”
Sirius grinned. “Yeah.”
“You’re already telling each other you love each other.”
“Yeah, we are.” Sirius flung open the door and patted for Bear to jump into the backseat, closing it behind him as he bounded up and started chewing on a rawhide bone. He settled into the passenger seat, got a Black Sabbath cassette rolling, and turned it to a low volume. “You need directions?”
“Yes, please.”
Sirius directed him for the first leg of the half-hour trip, then settled back as they reached the five-mile stretch of road that constituted the bulk of the journey. “Thank you for introducing me to Severus, James.”
James smiled, glancing at him for just an instant. “You’re welcome, Sirius.”
And ever since then he’s been insufferably nice about the whole thing. And insufferably smug. “It’s good to see you in love,” James has said more than once; it makes Sirius squirm, but it makes him feel sick with happiness, too, like his whole body is blaring with TV static from the force of his joy.
It was hopeless, Sirius reflects, from the first time Bear had gotten into bed with them. Severus had made noise about not wanting him there the first time they’d met; and then after they’d finished shagging, as they were talking and laughing and holding each other, Bear had snuffled into the room, sat at the edge of the bed, and given Sirius puppy-dog eyes.
“He wants up,” Sirius announced, though he didn’t do anything about it. “Your call.”
Severus leaned over him to peer at Bear. He scowled for a second; then he reached out and scratched Bear behind the ears. “He really is remarkably well-trained.”
“Yeah, I put a lot of time and effort into it.”
A beat, and then Severus sat back against the headboard and sighed. “Oh, alright.”
Sirius patted the bed, and Bear jumped up and made himself comfortable right in between them, and Severus said, “You don’t even need a boyfriend with this thing.”
“He scares off homophobes, too.”
“I didn’t think of that.” Severus gave him a respectful look, patted Bear’s shoulder, and then started giving him a belly rub. “Good dog. Who’s a good dog? You must do such a wonderful job protecting your master. Good boy.”
Ah, Sirius had thought. He’d been considering breaking it off before it started, before he got in too deep to feel any real pain beyond regret about lost potential; but he finds, increasingly, that the extent of that regret would have been incalculable. He adores Severus, with a wild, fierce passion that he’s only felt about work and the Marauders before; he’s loved, but never this deeply. This intensely. Or at least not in a way that was paired with sex, and with a kind of intimacy that’s grown from being absolutely fascinated with every single detail of the other person. A sort of violent passion for learning about them, being around them, hearing the silly and inane minutiae that, in most men, bores Sirius to tears. But he’s obsessed with Severus, and Severus seems to be obsessed with him back; he’s been going to the club on Thursdays so he can spend weekends curled up at Severus’s house with Bear and a film.
He calls Severus as he’s letting the setting powder do its magic, careful not to actually let the receiver touch his face. Severus’s voice comes ringing out. “Hello?”
“Hey, you.” Sirius pats Bear as he smiles into the phone, adjusting the red-and-yellow-and-blue polka-dotted collar he’d gotten to match his outfit for today. “What are you up to?”
“Just winding down from work. I’m glad we got to talk before you went out. You’re doing the clown astronaut look tonight, right?”
Yep, Sirius thinks, amused. It’s hopeless.
“That’s right,” Sirius says instead. “Good memory.”
“I bought you shoes for that outfit. Of course I remember it. You should take pictures.”
“Okay. I’ll bring my Polaroid.”
“Thanks.” A beat, and then a sigh. “I wish I could come with you.”
“You could, you know.”
“If I were spotted at Drift—”
“I know. I know.”
“One of these days, maybe,” Severus says. “We still haven’t done a look for me. Maybe we can—maybe I could wear a masquerade mask. Go as a matador. Is that a thing? Gay matador? I suppose you could pair it with fetish gear.”
“You really are as big a fag as I am, you know that, right?”
A breath of warm, quiet laughter. “Yeah.” A moment of silence. “You’re really gonna wear that big astronaut helmet?”
“It’s more like a glass dome with some antennae glued on. I’ll take it off if it gets inconvenient.”
“They’re little circus animals on springs, right?”
“Right.” Sirius laughs. “I really—I love you a lot, Severus. I’ve never loved anyone like this before.”
“Me neither.”
Sirius smiles to himself. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Everyone at the club is getting pretty sick of me rambling about you. I think they think I made you up.”
“I’m sorry.” Severus sounds so sorrowful that he feels a great gust of grief, and steels himself against it as best he can. “I know I’m not what you were looking for in a partner. I’d be happy to meet your friends in another setting.”
“Okay. I’d like that.” Sirius laughs a little. “I wasn’t looking for anything in a partner. I haven’t done serious in a long time. I was so in love with this boy in school. Everett. And he killed himself when we got outed. I haven’t… I haven’t really loved anyone since then.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could be there to give you a hug.”
“Me too.” Sirius wipes his eyes, which are a little wet. “Bugger it. You should come over instead. I can do this look next week.”
“Why don’t I start coming while you get ready? I think you should still go. How long until you leave?”
“About an hour.”
“I can be there in half of one.”
“That seems silly. To come just to see me for half an hour.”
“I’d like to see the outfit anyway. And I… I’m happy to take an hour and a half out of my day for you. It isn’t that much time.”
“I could just not go.”
“You’ve been excited about it all week. And you’re always in a good mood on Fridays.”
“That’s because I get you for an entire weekend.”
“You should go,” Severus says firmly. “Go fix your makeup, you incorrigible pansy. I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you too,” Sirius says, and hangs up. A beat passes, then two, then three; then he squeals and hugs himself around his shoulders and falls into the couch, squeezing his eyes shut and giggling until he can’t breathe.