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Remus leaned closer to the bathroom mirror, the counter top digging into the top of his thighs just below his hips. He tilted his chin down and strained his eyes upwards to continue looking into the mirror as he dragged his hands through his hair.
So, it was official. His hair was entirely gray now.
He sifted his hands through his hair for just a minute longer, hoping that he had somehow missed a spot–a hidden streak of honeyed brown that was tucked away in the sea of gray, but there was none. He straightened up, ignored the twinge in his back, and frowned at his reflection.
He had started going gray very young. Even at Hogwarts he had occasionally turned a certain way in a certain light and caught sight of a shimmering silver strand or two at the crown of his head. He had attributed it to stress, bad health, and the moon, but it had never particularly bothered him. He had always had far more pressing matters than his own vanity. But now that life had settled, war had passed, and he was finally living what could be considered a peaceful life (as peaceful a life as a werewolf married to an ex-convict could have, that is) it was a bit disheartening to see that his old age was so prominently visible.
There was a rapping knock on the bathroom door and Remus was startled out of his thoughts.
“You alive in there, Moony?” Sirius called. “We’re supposed to be getting over to Harry’s!”
“Yes, just a second.” Remus turned on the sink and washed his hands vigorously.
“You sure you’re alright?” Sirius said a few minutes later, as Remus sat down on the bench beside the door to tie his shoes. “Harry won’t mind if you’re not feeling up to it.”
“I’m fine,” Remus said. He knew Sirius had been anxious about this dinner for nearly a week, and he didn’t want to reschedule it now over some silly midlife crisis. It was the first time Harry had invited them for a meal since his divorce, and subsequent moving out. Remus was as anxious as Sirius to make sure that their godson was doing well on his own, and surviving off more than owl order to go meals.
Sirius helped him stand up when he was finished tying his shoes and handed him his cane. “If you’re sure,” Sirius said, smiling.
Remus smiled back and leaned down to kiss his cheek. It seemed that while age showed itself proudly on Remus it had passed over Sirius Black entirely. His hair was eternally silky black with the exception of a distinguished streak of white on each temple, and his skin remained soft with only the thinnest smile lines around his eyes and mouth. And, Remus thought to himself, even if Sirius’s body had decided to show the signs of his age his style was as youthful as ever. His hair remained long, down past his shoulders, and he wore the same leather jackets, silver jewelry, and ripped jeans as he always had–and he had visible tattoos on his arms and neck. Meanwhile Remus finally looked the part for his bulky grandpa sweaters, and tweed elbow-padded jackets.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Sirius asked, bringing a hand up to hold Remus’s cheek.
“I’m fine,” Remus said again, and leaned down to kiss his lips this time. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”
…
“I’m glad you’re doing alright pup.”
“We’re very proud of you Harry,” Remus said, setting a hand on his godson’s shoulder.
Harry’s new home was very nice. Clean, organised, and with the maturity of a young man settling into his life, rather than the chaotic half lived in energy that most of Remus’s homes had held in his twenties and thirties.
Harry smiled and shuffled his feet, maybe a bit embarrassed. “Thanks guys, and thanks for coming round. You’ll come back one of the weeks I have Jamie?” he asked.
“Oh don’t worry, Sirius would never miss a chance to teach your son bad words,” Remus said, grinning. Sirius punched his arm.
“I am a perfect and responsible role model, and Jamie is lucky to have me. I don’t know how you turned out to be such a mature father pup, James would be ashamed,” he said to Harry with a wink.
Harry grinned, “yeah but mom’s probably pleased with me,” he chuckled.
Remus and Sirius both smiled. “I’m sure they both are,” Remus said. He hugged Harry one more time, patting him on the back. “Look after yourself.”
Sirius sighed when they returned home, and leaned against the wall to kick off his shoes. “I’m glad he’s alright,” he said genuinely.
“Me too,” Remus agreed, picking up Sirius’s shoes and putting them in the basket. The last few years hadn’t been kind to Harry, it was good to see him settled and happy.
It wasn’t until after they had laid down to sleep, Sirius had doused the lights, and silence had fallen over their bedroom, that Remus began to think about his hair again. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. He had had more gray than brown in his hair for ages now, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this coming. And he was in his forties, plenty of people went gray in their forties, Sirius was more of an exception than the rule.
Maybe it wasn’t just the hair then. Maybe it was the hair in addition to everything else. He walked with a cane, had been through two wars, consistently tore his body apart on a monthly basis–it would be hard for anyone to feel particularly attractive amidst all that.
And then there were his clothes. When he was younger he hadn’t minded that he dressed older than everyone else his age, it was a quirk of his style, and it had never seemed to bother Sirius, whose was the only opinion Remus really cared for anyway. But, ironically, now that he was the appropriate age for his style of clothes he found he didn’t really like how they made him feel. Worn out. Tired. Old.
As quietly and carefully as he could he extracted himself from the bed, having to lift Sirius’s arm off his chest to do so.
He picked up his wand and walked into the closet. He closed the door behind himself.
“Lumos,” he whispered.
By the light of his wand he looked over all of his clothes. Nearly everything he owned was the same; bulky woolen sweaters, old plain collared shirts, black, brown, and gray robes. Did he truly not own anything that didn’t look as if it belonged in a senior assisted living home?
He turned instead to Sirius’s side of the closet. Almost nothing was on its hangers or folded. Clothes, shoes, and jewellery were scattered across the floor and top of the dresser, but amongst that mess were plenty of exciting and attractive things. Remus set his lit wand on top of Sirius’s dresser and bent down to the floor, picking up one of Sirius’s leather jackets. This one had fringe on both sleeves. Remus had always liked it on Sirius.
He held it awkwardly in his hands for a moment. Was he really going to do this? It was the middle of the night. He felt suddenly stupid and embarrassed, despite being completely alone. He glanced at himself in the mirror, wearing old sweatpants and holding his husband's jacket.
Well … he was up now. No one had to know.
He pulled some nice slacks and a shirt from his side of the closet and put them on quickly. He looked in the mirror again and then undid the top few buttons, experimenting with his collar for a bit to try to find something he liked. Then he leaned over and picked up the jacket again.
It did not look on him nearly as good as it looked on Sirius. Sirius was quite a bit shorter than him, and a bit stockier built, so the jacket fit Remus awkwardly. But, even if it had fit right, Remus suspected it would still look stupid. It didn’t match him at all, he looked like an old man wearing his son’s clothes. If he saw himself on the street or in a pub he would think he was an idiot.
The image of himself in the jacket made him feel worse than he had expected. Like something uncomfortable had been wrapped around his stomach and ribs. With a sudden jolt, as if the question had snuck up on him from behind, he wondered if people ever thought about him and Sirius that way. Like they didn’t match at all.
He took the jacket off and tossed it back onto the floor where he had found it, running a hand down his face.
“Moony?”
Remus jumped. He brought a hand up to clutch at his heart as he whirled around to see Sirius. He was standing in the doorway of the closet in only his boxers, his hair a tangled nest and his eyes still blurry with sleep. “What’re you doing?” Sirius yawned.
“N-nothing,” Remus lied. “Nothing love, go back to sleep.”
Sirius frowned, looking Remus up and down. “Are you going somewhere?” he asked slowly.
“What?”
“You’re dressed,” Sirius said, gesturing at him. “Are you going somewhere?”
“I- n-no. No I was just …” his words faded away.
Sirius didn’t look sleepy anymore, instead he looked worried. He brought his arms up and crossed them over his chest. He waited for Remus to say something for a while, and when he didn’t his lips pulled down into a stern frown. “Going to see someone?” he asked coldly.
Remus’s mouth fell open. “Wh-what?! No!” he said. “No. Love, I was just …” he sighed. At least the truth was far better than that. “I was just … looking at my clothes.”
“Looking at your clothes,” Sirius repeated, sceptically.
Remus nodded miserably.
“Why?” Sirius asked.
Remus frowned, looking away from Sirius and back at the mirror instead….
“My hair’s gone all gray,” he said eventually.
There was a moment's silence before Sirius said “what?”
“My hair,” Remus repeated. “It’s gone all gray. And it made me think … Well, I’m getting older. I’m old now. And I look it. And my clothes are all old,” he frowned. “And you always look so … and I just thought-... I wanted to-... I don’t know. I was being silly,” he finished quietly.
Sirius breathed in deeply and then stepped into the closet to wrap his arms around Remus’s waist. “Moony,” he said, tucking his face against his neck. “Your clothes are fine. And your hair. You look handsome … distinguished,” he hummed, pressing a kiss into the space where Remus’s neck met his shoulder.
Remus shivered, tilting his head back a bit to give Sirius more room. “I don’t know,” he said.
Sirius kissed him again, a little higher on his neck. “I know,” he said confidently. “You’re incredible Moony, and if you think a little gray hair makes you any less sexy then you are mistaken,” he purred this last word against Remus’s ear and slid one hand across his stomach.
Remus gasped.
Sirius grinned and bit his ear. “And hey. If you want new clothes anyway,” he pulled back, “we’ll go shopping some time. Find you some stuff you like. You’ve owned these same jumpers since the dawn of time anyway.”
Remus chuckled breathlessly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Sirius smiled. “Now come back to bed. You look best with no clothes at all.”
…
“I’m not going to find anything in a place like this,” Remus said, looking around at the various clothes on display. They were in a fancy muggle store, one where most of the clothes didn’t even have price tags. Remus tapped his cane against his leg and frowned, lingering in the doorway.
“Come on, give it a chance. You wanted to get outside of your box right? Try something new,” Sirius said. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Remus followed Sirius into the store. There wasn’t a single wool sweater or tweed jacket in sight. He felt very out of place.
“May I help you sirs?” a young sales associate asked as they approached one of the displays.
Sirius spun around with a smile and immediately started offering them Remus’s measurements. “We don’t want anything super colorful or patterned, but we don’t want brown or gray either,” Sirius said. “Maybe some dark blues and greens.”
The sales associate nodded and immediately began to lead them around the store. Remus gripped his cane a bit tighter.
After about an hour or so Sirius was holding an armful of suggested clothes and the associate had led them to a private dressing room. Despite his nerves Remus couldn’t help feeling optimistic. None of the clothes were anything like he would normally wear. Hopefully that was a good thing.
“I’ll wait outside,” Sirius said, pressing to his toes to kiss Remus’s cheek. “You try these on and see if there’s anything you like. If not we’ll go to the next store.”
“You’re having way too much fun with this,” Remus teased, tapping his cane against Sirius’s leg.
Sirius smirked. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll try to have less fun styling my handsome husband. I’ll complain more in the next store, don’t worry.”
Remus pushed him out of the dressing room, then turned back to the clothes.
Some of them were awful, making him feel the same way he had when he’d put on Sirius’s jacket in their closet–but not all of them. Some of them were actually very nice. He found himself liking things he never would’ve picked out from himself; things that made him feel stylish but not as though he was trying to be something he wasn’t.
He finally stepped out of the dressing room wearing a pair of loose fitting jeans, a dark green turtleneck and a black jacket.
Sirius’s gaze snapped up to him and he beamed. “What do you think?” he asked.
Remus nodded slowly, looking down at himself. “I like it,” he said honestly.
Sirius grinned, winking at him. “Me too.”
…
They spent the rest of the day shopping together. It had been a while since they had spent the entire day outside of the house together. Remus was resolved to do it more often. He liked seeing the joy on Sirius’s face, how excited he was to explore new places. It reminded him of a younger Sirius, before Azkaban and the war, who was reckless and always eager for a new experience.
“We should do this more often,” Sirius said, dipping his spoon into Remus’s ice cream, having finished his own.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Remus laughed, “literally just now.”
Sirius grinned, his silver eyes twinkling. “Well now we really have to do it then,” he said. “I liked getting out of the house with you. You’re more talkative.”
“What?” Remus chuckled. “Talkative?”
Sirius nodded. “Yeah. I like being at home, but we don’t really talk anymore. We both sort of settle in and do our own things. You read, I cook, or work–we don’t really just sit around and talk to each other like we used to do.”
Remus smiled. It seemed like both of them had been reminiscing on old times then.
“You’re right… we’ll do this more,” he agreed, and Sirius stole more of his ice cream.
“How are you feeling about your clothes now?” Sirius asked.
“Better,” Remus said, a bit sheepish. He felt embarrassed now, in retrospect, over his little mid-life crisis. “Thank you. For …”
Sirius nodded and Remus didn’t finish his sentence, just took his hand across the table and squeezed it.
“Guess Harry isn’t the only one growing up,” Sirius sighed wistfully.
“Hmm,” Remus said dramatically. “Calling you a grown up does still feel a bit of a stretch.”
Sirius kicked him under the table and Remus laughed.