Author's Note: My first attempt at Wolfstar! And all because of a tumblr post :) Also my first non-magic AU. Enjoy!
P.S. I own nothing, anything recognizable belongs to the lovely Ms. Rowling.
Chapter 1: Raiders Of The Lost Underpants
It was the last pack. It was the last pack. And they were white. He hated white. White was the colour of nothing, a blank space, a void. It was the colour of the Oxford shirt he had to wear at the job he hated in the restaurant where he took orders for ridiculously expensive food from people with much more money than sense. Food that was made by a guy his same age with a phony French accent and a questionable diploma in culinary arts who literally thought his shit did not stink.
Remus scowled at the package. This was the third time this month he'd had to go out and buy new underwear. Cursing the powers that be, he snatched it off the shelf. Yes, he hated white, but he hated going commando even more. No matter how soft he bought his trousers, chafing was unavoidable, and he did not want to think about the comments that would come out of Chez Louis if the pretentious food snob caught him walking funny.
He paid for his purchases and left the store and that's when he saw it. A flyer taped to the store's front window with a picture of an orange cat. At first, Remus thought it was a lost pet poster and he took a mental picture of the animal just in case he noticed it wandering around his house. But something else caught his eye. As he looked closer to get a good visual on the cat's markings, he read the note.
The cat was not what was missing. The cat was responsible for what was missing.
If you are missing any items of clothing of a personal nature, please get in touch. My cat is a notorious knicker thief and I have nearly a box of - mostly men's - socks and underwear. You'll be pleased to know that I am in the process of moving, so this little blighter shouldn't be causing any more grief. However, I would like to return any items I can to their rightful owners. Please call me and let me know when you can come over. I'm home all day today. Thank you.
Under the note was a name and number and Remus almost dropped his bags in his haste to retrieve his mobile. He dialed swiftly and heard one ring before a slightly rough, highly educated male voice answered.
"Hello, is this the owner of George the cat?" Remus asked.
"Yes, it is! Are you one of his victims?"
"I think I may be, yes. Your flyer says you're home today. Could I come by?"
"Absolutely! Here, let me give you the address - "
The man gave Remus the information and told him to come by whenever he wanted. By a strange coincidence, the address was right across the alley from Remus' backyard, so he decided to go there first before heading home. If all went well, perhaps he could get some of his things back and throw them in the wash along with the new ones. Or, if things went really well, perhaps he would find all of his underwear and could take the white abominations back and return them. The very thought made him smile as, minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of a cozy-looking bungalow. Looking at the number on the house, he confirmed he was in the right place.
904 Potter Way...
There were boxes on the front porch and the front door was open as Remus walked up. He knocked on the door frame and called out, getting a yell from the back of the house. A moment later, a young man of medium build wearing black jeans and a red t-shirt with a lion on the front came bouncing up to him. His raven hair was piled on top of his head in a bun and secured with a pen and his grey eyes were deep enough to drown in. Remus' mouth began to water.
"Hi! Remus, right?" the man said, holding out a hand for Remus to shake. "Sirius Black, pleasure."
Remus took the offered hand and cleared his throat. "Pleasure's all mine," he replied, a bit more breathless than he'd intended.
"Come in, come in!" Sirius said, leading Remus into the living room, where more boxes were piled up and the furniture was collected. "Would you like to meet the scoundrel?" he asked, nodding to the sofa where a lanky, ginger cat was perched on the back.
"Hello, George," Remus greeted the animal. George ignored him entirely, licking his paw with an expression of boredom.
Sirius tutted. "Ignore him. Bloody princess," he said, shaking his head.
"Interesting name for a cat," Remus said. "'George' is a person name, not a pet name, surely?"
"Ah, well," Sirius chuckled. "He had a twin brother named Fred. I named them after a couple of blokes I used to know whose initials were 'F' and 'G'. They died in a car crash just before I got the kittens and... well... you know, I'm a bit sentimental. So... yeah, Fred and George. Lost Fred last year, so this guy's the last one. And that's the only reason I keep you," he said to the cat, who ignored him as well. "Bloody nuisance. Anyway," he turned back to Remus, "the box of nicked knickers is over there. Go through them and see if there's any of yours, yeah?"
"Thanks, yeah." Remus headed over to a small box sitting on top of a nightstand with a neon green sock sticking out. Well, that's not mine, he thought. A fair portion of the box was, though, and Remus wished he'd brought a bag with him. Those were his purple striped boxers, several pairs of plaid boxers, one of his pale pink socks and four different argyle print socks from four different pairs. There were others as well and he was just pulling out his favourite pair of boxers when he heard a crash and a cry of pain.
A moment later, Sirius came rushing out to the kitchen, holding his forearm. He turned the water on full blast and thrust his arm under the tap.
"Sirius? Are you okay?" Remus asked, feeling a little stupid. Obviously, the man was not okay, but as he was a stranger, Remus didn't want to be too forward.
Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back. He was pale and shaking. "I... I can't do blood... can't stand it... ," he stammered, his voice as shaky as the rest of him. "Could you... um... there's band-aids and things in... in the bathroom... c-could you... ?"
"Yeah, mate, of course," he said, dropping the boxers and rushing in the direction Sirius nodded. Barely noticing the smashed antique mirror on the floor, he sped to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and pulled out the necessary. By the time he got back to the kitchen, Sirius looked about ready to faint.
"I'm really... really sorry about this," Sirius said quietly, still not looking down at his bleeding forearm.
"Don't worry about it," Remus dismissed, wrapping his fingers around Sirius' wrist and adjusting the angle so the water would wash away all the blood. "It's not that bad, you know," he said, inspecting the wound. "Just one of those areas that bleeds a lot. Looks worse than it is. You didn't even hit a vein."
"Fascinating," Sirius replied in a tone that said he found it anything but. "Are you... a doctor or something, then?" he asked between deep breaths.
Remus nearly laughed. "Hardly," he said. "I'm a waiter. I work at this really posh place and when they hired me, I had to take a first-aid course as part of my training. A kitchen can be a dangerous place. You get burns, cuts, scaldings... " he went on as he dried Sirius' cut and reached for a large bandage.
"What restaurant?" Sirius asked, the conversation keeping his mind off his blood loss.
"Orion's. Do you know it? Over on Grimmauld?"
Sirius went still. "Yeah, I know it," he said. "My parent's own it."
Shit. "Oh, well... erm... it's not a bad place to work... "
"Yes, it is," Sirius countered. "They used to make me bus tables during school breaks. I hated it almost as much as I hate them." He looked at Remus. "I'm the son they try to deny exists."
"Oh... erm... " Remus was decidedly uncomfortable now, but he finished Sirius' bandage anyway. He could feel the other man's eyes on him, though.
Sirius couldn't help staring. Remus was quite adorable with red-tinged ears and a flushed neck. The sandy-blond curls that hung in front of his forehead made Sirius wonder how cute he'd be waking up in the morning. And Remus was tall. Sirius had always been a sucker for blokes taller than him and Remus had a good four inches on him.
"You should probably eat something," Remus said, letting go of Sirius and gathering the bloody paper towels and the band-aid wrapper.
Sirius nodded. He did feel shaky still. "I, um... I haven't packed away the kettle yet. Fancy a cuppa?"
"Um... yeah, sure," Remus agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll just... uh... finish going through that box."
Sirius busied himself at the stove and pulled out a box of biscuits while sneaking peeks at Remus. The man was hunched over the knicker box, rifling through it, and Sirius could tell whenever he found something of his because Remus would make a 'tut' noise and cock his head towards the sofa where George was busy licking himself. The kettle whistled, causing Remus to drop the boxers he was holding and Sirius' eyes went wide when he saw which ones they were. Dark blue with crescent moons on them, he'd laughed when George had brought them home.
Pouring them both cups, Sirius cleared off tow bar stools and beckoned Remus over. "So, the moons belong to you?" he asked teasingly, laughing when Remus' flush returned.
"Yeah. It's an old joke with my friends. I got really drunk one night and... apparently I mooned several people," he said.
"That's brilliant!" Sirius said. "I can't imagine you mooning people!"
"I don't even remember it, but clearly there were witnesses, so... " he smiled ruefully as Sirius laughed. "Yeah, that's the reason I don't get drunk anymore." Remus shook his head. "The stupid things you do in college, right?"
The conversation continued as they drank. Sirius told him about his Uncle Alphard who was elderly and had started to need constant care. That was the reason he was giving up the house, he said. Uncle Alphard had been the only person who supported his decision to leave his parents and had even put him up for a while as he searched for a place of his own. Now was his chance to pay off some of the debt he felt he owed.
Alphard didn't even live that far away - just across town, but Sirius felt he needed to be there at all times, just in case. There had been a couple of instances where he'd gotten a call in the middle of the night from his Uncle's live-in housekeeper and Sirius wanted to be there.
Remus, in turn, told him about not finishing school. He'd gotten sick the last year of university and had had to skip all the last exams. The school had told him he could make up the grades by doing another year, but by that time he'd had no more money. He'd made the tough decision to quit and focus on work rather than a degree in theater management. Waiting tables sucked, he said, but it was decent money if you got good shifts. Remus had also been talking to some local theaters to see if he could come on as an assistant.
It was late afternoon by the time Remus checked his watch.
"Shit!" he swore. "I'm sorry, Sirius, I've got to go. My shift starts in a couple hours and I've still got to do laundry."
"That's fine, Remus! Don't worry about it," Sirius said. "Thanks for patching me up." He smiled.
Remus smiled back. "No problem," he said, grabbing his bag of underwear.
"Hey, Remus?" Sirius called, just as Remus stepped onto the porch. "I was thinking... I'll probably need to change this bandage tonight, yeah?"
"Be a good idea, yeah."
"D'you think... maybe you could come by when you get off and do it for me?"
Remus blinked. He hadn't expected that. "Erm..."
"I've passed out before at the sight of blood and wounds and I don't want to pass out when I'm alone, you know?" Sirius added, trying to play the sympathy card.
Remus hesitated. "It'll be late. I'm not usually done before 1 or 2 in the morning."
"That's okay," Sirius said immediately. "I'm a night owl. I'll be up."
A slow, shy smile spread across Remus' face. "Okay," he said. "See you later, then."
Sirius' face lit up. "See you later." He watched Remus drive away and then turned to George. "Thanks, mate."
Author's Note: Thanks for reading!