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Fic: Next Stop, Mykonos [Remus/Sirius, soft R]
Title: Next Stop, Mykonos
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: soft R
Word Count: ~1700
Warnings: Vague reference to sex toys, language
A/N: Muggle AU meet cute, fluff, humour and flirting. This was a gift for starstruck4moony and it marks quite a few firsts for me, not my usual fair but there are 2 more parts coming soon.
Extract:
“Hello?”
“Um, hi. Is that Sirius?”
“Uh, yeah…?” The man on the other end had a distinct Welsh accent. Sirius didn’t know anyone with a Welsh accent.
“I’ve got your suitcase and I’m guessing you have mine.”
“What?” Sirius laid the phone on the bed, hurrying over to fumble with the lock on the case. He could vaguely hear the voice on the other end of the line calling him as he turned the little wheels to 1-2-3-4. It wouldn’t open. He checked the luggage tag. Remus Lupin. Shit.
Sirius stood doing the baggage-carousel-shuffle. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he struggled to see through the crowd, waiting for a glimpse of his distinct red suitcase with the gold trim. He kept eyeing the gathered travellers, surveying the shifting gaps, the ways in, the children he may have to stand on or step over. The stream of luggage joining the carousel had paused, the same two unassuming black cases taking another turn around. The small airport was hot and stuffy and Sirius took the opportunity to shrug off his jacket and tie it around his waist. Tiptoes, checking, nothing yet. He crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet as he opened up his satchel to pull out his phone. He was just about to switch it back on when a nudge from behind sent him wobbling forwards, managing to catch himself before he made a total tit of himself. He turned, scowl in place, to see a tall guy apologetically raise a hand without even looking at him before continuing to slide between the waiting travellers. A peek between legs revealed that more luggage had been added to the carousel. Shit.
Sirius quickly shoved his phone into his pocket, slinging his satchel strap over his head. The quicker he grabbed his case, the easier it would be to get a cab. The sooner he got to the hostel, the best chance he had of snagging a decent bed. He shuffled from foot to foot, craning to get a look.
There.
That was it, his case.
“Excuse me,” he said, one hand on his satchel as he squeezed between people, meandering his way through the crowd. He was nearly there, just one row of people in his way. “Excuse me,” he said again, to a rather tall guy wearing an old and worn rucksack, covered in badges. Rucksack-guy didn’t move. Sirius just needed to get through the gap between this man and the pillar. “Excuse me,” once more, a little louder, hand gently nudging the guy’s elbow. Still nothing. Shit, here came the case. Fuck it, Sirius wasn’t going to stand there watching as his bag took another six-minute-long tour of the airport. He elbowed Rucksack-guy out of the way and grabbed his case, briefly looking up to scowl at him as he dragged the heavy case off of the carousel. The guy reached up to pull a headphone out of his ear. Shit, Sirius hadn’t realised he hadn’t been able to hear him. He pulled the handle out of his case and darted off as quickly as the parting crowd would allow, before he ended up in an airport fight with some tall and scrawny twenty-something.
Sirius wondered when his case had gotten so heavy. No doubt Amsterdam had had an impact on the weight of his case, but he hadn’t gone that crazy, really. Actually, he considered that he’d been rather restrained with his purchases, given all the temptation.
Getting a taxi was easy enough, the drivers were practically fighting to get his case off of him. He followed his case to a car, threw his satchel on the seat and fished the hotel name out of his pocket for the driver. Glad the journey was almost over, Sirius sat back and watched the dry scenery pass by, dotted sparsely with green trees and white houses.
The hostel wasn’t the worst he’d been in, during his five months of travelling so far, but neither was it the best. It could do with a lick of paint, a new coat of varnish and a good amount of elbow grease, but the dorms looked clean enough. Sirius grinned as he considered what his parents would say if they saw him living in such cheap, shared accommodation. He could easily afford his own room, after coming into a generous inheritance, but after spending his formative years in a boarding school, this was the type of living Sirius was most comfortable with. He wanted to meet real, ordinary people — and what better way than in a shared dorm, with a shared dining area. The best parts about travelling, in Sirius’s opinion, were the people and the food. His favourite nights were the ones when someone would step up to cook some traditional home cuisine for everyone, and he’d get to try something new. He’d had Taiwanese in Spain, Lebanese in Andorra and Cuban in Luxembourg. For his own contribution, he’d made afternoon tea in The Netherlands. Although, admittedly, the scones would have made decent paperweights.
Check in was quick and easy and Sirius headed to his room. It had a bright red painted door, and there were six simple beds inside, with space for a case underneath and a small side table next to it. Three of the beds already had belongings around them, with no sign of the owners. Sirius picked the bed by the window. He parked his suitcase at the end of the bed and kicked off his shoes, relishing the cool feel of the tiles under his sweaty feet. He was about to grab his case and hunt for his flip flips when his pocket began to vibrate. He pulled out his phone and checked it — it was a mobile number, one he didn’t recognise. He answered.
“Hello?”
“Um, hi. Is that Sirius?”
“Uh, yeah…?” The man on the other end had a distinct Welsh accent. Sirius didn’t know anyone with a Welsh accent.
“I’ve got your suitcase and I’m guessing you have mine.”
“What?” Sirius laid the phone on the bed, hurrying over to fumble with the lock on the case. He could vaguely hear the voice on the other end of the line calling him as he turned the little wheels to 1-2-3-4. It wouldn’t open. He checked the luggage tag. Remus Lupin. Shit. Sirius ran his hand anxiously through his hair and looked at the phone. He was about to reach for it when a thought occurred. If this guy had Sirius’s number, he must have looked inside the case. And if he’d looked inside the case...
Sirius snatched up the phone. “Uh… Remus?”
“Yeah,” the voice sighed in relief.
“Right. Okay. Where are you staying?”
“I’ve already got a rental car, so it will probably be easier for me to come to you?”
“Yeah, okay, great.”
“I can’t check in without my case, left my paperwork in there. Alright if I come now?”
“Yeah, of course, that’s fine.”
“Perfect, see you soon.” His phone beeped to signal the guy had hung up.
Sirius sighed, scrubbing at his face with his palms. He stood, looking again at the luggage tag. Remus Lupin. The Welsh guy who knows what Sirius Black has in his case. Brilliant.
He got a text half an hour later, taking his imposter-case down to reception and hoping this Remus guy would let him just swap and run, avoiding the inevitable embarrassed eye contact.
No such luck.
Sirius turned into the lobby to be greeted by a tatty looking rucksack covered in badges — some of which depicted rainbows — on the back of a tall, young, fair-haired man who quickly turned around with the cutest smile. Buggering fuck.
“Hi, Sirius,” he smiled easily, offering out a hand.
“Hi,” Sirius replied dumbly, putting his hand in Rucksack-guy’s and letting him shake it. Remus, he told himself. He had barged past hot, Welsh, probably-gay Remus at the airport, without a second glance. He realised the handshake had stopped, and he hadn’t let go, so he did. Remus pushed the suitcase he was holding forward and took his own from Sirius, standing it by his side. Sirius realised he was now staring, so he stopped. Remus was looking at him curiously.
“I wasn’t expecting a place like this, after talking to you on the phone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” he said, carefully, “You just come across as someone who could afford somewhere much nicer.”
Sirius was aware that he should be at least mildly affronted by that, but his brain was too busy being stupid. “It’s not about the money, it’s about the experience.”
Remus looked around, seeming to contemplate that for a moment before looking at Sirius levelly. “Bed bugs and gonorrhea?”
Sirius barked out a sudden laugh, smile growing wider when Remus returned it easily. “Exactly.”
“You know, for just ten quid more you could be staying where I am. Free wifi, your own room, big pool…”
Was this guy coming on to him? “Why do you care so much?”
“I’m just puzzled. It would make sense that someone with your…” his eyes moved obviously to Sirius’s suitcase, “interests, would rather have a little privacy.”
“I’ve just come from Amsterdam!” Sirius spluttered, unconsciously putting a little distance between himself and the offending case. “I bought them to take home. I wasn’t planning to… y’know, here!”
“Mhm…” Remus grinned teasingly, obviously enjoying Sirius’s discomfort.
He attempted a scowl and there was a slight shift in Remus’s demeanor. He was looking at Sirius differently, chewing slightly on his bottom lip.
“You know, I thought it was you. You shoved me at the airport.”
Shit, well, that’s blown it. “Yeah… Sorry about that, tired from travelling, y’know…”
“I think you owe me a drink, to apologise.” Remus had obviously been trying to fight the smile but it broke free. Sirius relaxed a little. Remus was definitely flirting with him.
“Well, I think you owe me an apology for snooping through my case,” he countered.
Remus rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re welcome to look in my case, if it will make you feel better.”
“Will I find anything incriminating?” he leered.
“Only if you’re deeply offended by queer literature.” That explains why the case was so bloody heavy.
Sirius could picture it clearly, sitting on a quiet little hidden stretch of beach that Remus had driven them to. Sharing a cocktail, hands running gently through those sandy curls while Sirius read him gay erotica. He wasn’t usually so bold, but he had a feeling about this guy.
“How about we just make it two drinks, one for each apology?”
Remus stepped slowly towards him, eyes narrowed and assessing, voice low. “How about we start with two, and see what happens from there?”
Sirius had a feeling that Mykonos would be his favourite stop yet.
“It’s a date.”
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: soft R
Word Count: ~1700
Warnings: Vague reference to sex toys, language
A/N: Muggle AU meet cute, fluff, humour and flirting. This was a gift for starstruck4moony and it marks quite a few firsts for me, not my usual fair but there are 2 more parts coming soon.
Extract:
“Hello?”
“Um, hi. Is that Sirius?”
“Uh, yeah…?” The man on the other end had a distinct Welsh accent. Sirius didn’t know anyone with a Welsh accent.
“I’ve got your suitcase and I’m guessing you have mine.”
“What?” Sirius laid the phone on the bed, hurrying over to fumble with the lock on the case. He could vaguely hear the voice on the other end of the line calling him as he turned the little wheels to 1-2-3-4. It wouldn’t open. He checked the luggage tag. Remus Lupin. Shit.
Sirius stood doing the baggage-carousel-shuffle. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he struggled to see through the crowd, waiting for a glimpse of his distinct red suitcase with the gold trim. He kept eyeing the gathered travellers, surveying the shifting gaps, the ways in, the children he may have to stand on or step over. The stream of luggage joining the carousel had paused, the same two unassuming black cases taking another turn around. The small airport was hot and stuffy and Sirius took the opportunity to shrug off his jacket and tie it around his waist. Tiptoes, checking, nothing yet. He crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet as he opened up his satchel to pull out his phone. He was just about to switch it back on when a nudge from behind sent him wobbling forwards, managing to catch himself before he made a total tit of himself. He turned, scowl in place, to see a tall guy apologetically raise a hand without even looking at him before continuing to slide between the waiting travellers. A peek between legs revealed that more luggage had been added to the carousel. Shit.
Sirius quickly shoved his phone into his pocket, slinging his satchel strap over his head. The quicker he grabbed his case, the easier it would be to get a cab. The sooner he got to the hostel, the best chance he had of snagging a decent bed. He shuffled from foot to foot, craning to get a look.
There.
That was it, his case.
“Excuse me,” he said, one hand on his satchel as he squeezed between people, meandering his way through the crowd. He was nearly there, just one row of people in his way. “Excuse me,” he said again, to a rather tall guy wearing an old and worn rucksack, covered in badges. Rucksack-guy didn’t move. Sirius just needed to get through the gap between this man and the pillar. “Excuse me,” once more, a little louder, hand gently nudging the guy’s elbow. Still nothing. Shit, here came the case. Fuck it, Sirius wasn’t going to stand there watching as his bag took another six-minute-long tour of the airport. He elbowed Rucksack-guy out of the way and grabbed his case, briefly looking up to scowl at him as he dragged the heavy case off of the carousel. The guy reached up to pull a headphone out of his ear. Shit, Sirius hadn’t realised he hadn’t been able to hear him. He pulled the handle out of his case and darted off as quickly as the parting crowd would allow, before he ended up in an airport fight with some tall and scrawny twenty-something.
Sirius wondered when his case had gotten so heavy. No doubt Amsterdam had had an impact on the weight of his case, but he hadn’t gone that crazy, really. Actually, he considered that he’d been rather restrained with his purchases, given all the temptation.
Getting a taxi was easy enough, the drivers were practically fighting to get his case off of him. He followed his case to a car, threw his satchel on the seat and fished the hotel name out of his pocket for the driver. Glad the journey was almost over, Sirius sat back and watched the dry scenery pass by, dotted sparsely with green trees and white houses.
The hostel wasn’t the worst he’d been in, during his five months of travelling so far, but neither was it the best. It could do with a lick of paint, a new coat of varnish and a good amount of elbow grease, but the dorms looked clean enough. Sirius grinned as he considered what his parents would say if they saw him living in such cheap, shared accommodation. He could easily afford his own room, after coming into a generous inheritance, but after spending his formative years in a boarding school, this was the type of living Sirius was most comfortable with. He wanted to meet real, ordinary people — and what better way than in a shared dorm, with a shared dining area. The best parts about travelling, in Sirius’s opinion, were the people and the food. His favourite nights were the ones when someone would step up to cook some traditional home cuisine for everyone, and he’d get to try something new. He’d had Taiwanese in Spain, Lebanese in Andorra and Cuban in Luxembourg. For his own contribution, he’d made afternoon tea in The Netherlands. Although, admittedly, the scones would have made decent paperweights.
Check in was quick and easy and Sirius headed to his room. It had a bright red painted door, and there were six simple beds inside, with space for a case underneath and a small side table next to it. Three of the beds already had belongings around them, with no sign of the owners. Sirius picked the bed by the window. He parked his suitcase at the end of the bed and kicked off his shoes, relishing the cool feel of the tiles under his sweaty feet. He was about to grab his case and hunt for his flip flips when his pocket began to vibrate. He pulled out his phone and checked it — it was a mobile number, one he didn’t recognise. He answered.
“Hello?”
“Um, hi. Is that Sirius?”
“Uh, yeah…?” The man on the other end had a distinct Welsh accent. Sirius didn’t know anyone with a Welsh accent.
“I’ve got your suitcase and I’m guessing you have mine.”
“What?” Sirius laid the phone on the bed, hurrying over to fumble with the lock on the case. He could vaguely hear the voice on the other end of the line calling him as he turned the little wheels to 1-2-3-4. It wouldn’t open. He checked the luggage tag. Remus Lupin. Shit. Sirius ran his hand anxiously through his hair and looked at the phone. He was about to reach for it when a thought occurred. If this guy had Sirius’s number, he must have looked inside the case. And if he’d looked inside the case...
Sirius snatched up the phone. “Uh… Remus?”
“Yeah,” the voice sighed in relief.
“Right. Okay. Where are you staying?”
“I’ve already got a rental car, so it will probably be easier for me to come to you?”
“Yeah, okay, great.”
“I can’t check in without my case, left my paperwork in there. Alright if I come now?”
“Yeah, of course, that’s fine.”
“Perfect, see you soon.” His phone beeped to signal the guy had hung up.
Sirius sighed, scrubbing at his face with his palms. He stood, looking again at the luggage tag. Remus Lupin. The Welsh guy who knows what Sirius Black has in his case. Brilliant.
He got a text half an hour later, taking his imposter-case down to reception and hoping this Remus guy would let him just swap and run, avoiding the inevitable embarrassed eye contact.
No such luck.
Sirius turned into the lobby to be greeted by a tatty looking rucksack covered in badges — some of which depicted rainbows — on the back of a tall, young, fair-haired man who quickly turned around with the cutest smile. Buggering fuck.
“Hi, Sirius,” he smiled easily, offering out a hand.
“Hi,” Sirius replied dumbly, putting his hand in Rucksack-guy’s and letting him shake it. Remus, he told himself. He had barged past hot, Welsh, probably-gay Remus at the airport, without a second glance. He realised the handshake had stopped, and he hadn’t let go, so he did. Remus pushed the suitcase he was holding forward and took his own from Sirius, standing it by his side. Sirius realised he was now staring, so he stopped. Remus was looking at him curiously.
“I wasn’t expecting a place like this, after talking to you on the phone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” he said, carefully, “You just come across as someone who could afford somewhere much nicer.”
Sirius was aware that he should be at least mildly affronted by that, but his brain was too busy being stupid. “It’s not about the money, it’s about the experience.”
Remus looked around, seeming to contemplate that for a moment before looking at Sirius levelly. “Bed bugs and gonorrhea?”
Sirius barked out a sudden laugh, smile growing wider when Remus returned it easily. “Exactly.”
“You know, for just ten quid more you could be staying where I am. Free wifi, your own room, big pool…”
Was this guy coming on to him? “Why do you care so much?”
“I’m just puzzled. It would make sense that someone with your…” his eyes moved obviously to Sirius’s suitcase, “interests, would rather have a little privacy.”
“I’ve just come from Amsterdam!” Sirius spluttered, unconsciously putting a little distance between himself and the offending case. “I bought them to take home. I wasn’t planning to… y’know, here!”
“Mhm…” Remus grinned teasingly, obviously enjoying Sirius’s discomfort.
He attempted a scowl and there was a slight shift in Remus’s demeanor. He was looking at Sirius differently, chewing slightly on his bottom lip.
“You know, I thought it was you. You shoved me at the airport.”
Shit, well, that’s blown it. “Yeah… Sorry about that, tired from travelling, y’know…”
“I think you owe me a drink, to apologise.” Remus had obviously been trying to fight the smile but it broke free. Sirius relaxed a little. Remus was definitely flirting with him.
“Well, I think you owe me an apology for snooping through my case,” he countered.
Remus rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re welcome to look in my case, if it will make you feel better.”
“Will I find anything incriminating?” he leered.
“Only if you’re deeply offended by queer literature.” That explains why the case was so bloody heavy.
Sirius could picture it clearly, sitting on a quiet little hidden stretch of beach that Remus had driven them to. Sharing a cocktail, hands running gently through those sandy curls while Sirius read him gay erotica. He wasn’t usually so bold, but he had a feeling about this guy.
“How about we just make it two drinks, one for each apology?”
Remus stepped slowly towards him, eyes narrowed and assessing, voice low. “How about we start with two, and see what happens from there?”
Sirius had a feeling that Mykonos would be his favourite stop yet.
“It’s a date.”