AHAHAHAHA so I'm obsessed with Wolfstar. And I wrote this a few months ago, but I didn't think of posting it til now?

Also DISCLAIMER: I don't own JKR OR her work.


'Screw me for checking my bags instead of taking carry ons,' Sirius Black thinks as he flashes his gate pass at the flight attendants before breaking into a run down the sloping hallway and onto the plane he was supposed to board half an hour ago.

It's typical of Sirius to arrive at his designated areas seconds before the doors close on him, but this, he decides as he breathlessly makes his way towards his row, is too close a call.

This is his first trip on a plane, first of all. He isn't scared, of course: He knows the statistics and the likelihood that his flight will be one to have an accident is small. But he is, admittedly, nervous, because he is flying from his home in Manhattan, New York, to the beautiful college town of Claremont, California, where he will be attending four years at his dream school.

It's a horrifying concept.

Thankfully, Sirius finds his row easily, ducking into his seat next to a lanky, docile looking boy who's wearing a baby blue sweater with what looks like a plaid button down under it. He's also fast asleep, his head lolling on his shoulders, his arms draped limply over his armrests. His light brown hair sticks out in all directions, the unmistakable Beatles song Hello, Goodbye leaking from his earbuds, which are connected to an iPhone tucked under his thigh.

He looks about Sirius' age, and not malicious at all, which is good because Sirius has heard really gross stories about airplane buddies that he would not like to live through.

Two flight attendants step into the aisles, and someone over the loudspeaker begins to talk about safety procedure.

Though he isn't normally one for rules, Sirius assumes this is gravely important, and quickly nudges the boy to his left a little harder than necessary: The boy's elbow drops off the armrest in between them and he opens an eye to glance warily at Sirius.

"They're talking about safety, so unless you want to die..." Sirius raises an eyebrow, expecting the boy to sit up and begin to follow along. If he, a chronic rule breaker, was listening, he assumed everyone else would too.

The boy just rolls his one open eye and closes it again, turning his head away from Sirius and from the announcements.

"Right, fine," mutters Sirius, to no one in particular, leaning over his armrest to watch the demonstration. "Just drown if there's an accident."

— 30 Minutes Later —

Sirius returns from the bathroom and, sitting down, is about to put his earbuds back in (he's been listening to his favorite Doors song on repeat for the whole half hour he's been in the air so far) when the boy next to him stirs.

"You smell like cigarette smoke," He murmurs as he reaches his thin hands up to pull his own earbuds out, though his eyes are still closed. His voice is low, but it has a sort of curvature to the way each word lulls that reminds Sirius of a pillow or a rocking chair.

Barely having the self control to be properly shocked that the boy can smell him, much less properly defend his honor by proving that even if he'd smoked that morning, he hadn't done so on the plane, Sirius retorts, "Yeah, well, you sound British."

If an eye roll could be articulated through a sigh, the possibly-British boy nails the act.

"I am."

"Oh. Are you on a trip to America?"

Sirius is pretty sure the wording of his question is way out of whack, and, coupled with the obvious judgement he's receiving, he isn't as confident about his people charming skills as usual.

Not that he's trying to charm his row buddy.

Yet.

The boy opens his eyes to reveal brilliant emerald irises, and Sirius wonders vaguely why he didn't notice that before.

"No, I'm here for school. I just flew from London to New York and had a layover."

"Ah," Sirius nods as he twists towards the boy in his seat. "Fun."

"Not particularly."

Part of Sirius wants to congratulate this person for baffling him, and the other part wants to know how sheltered a person can be for them not to understand the sarcasm that he clearly had been expressing.

"Are you always this serious?"

The boy shakes his head, but Sirius has a feeling that's a lie.

"No. I'm just tired."

The boy sits upright, tucks his phone with its earbuds into the pocket in front of his seat and then leans back again, yawning widely. Sirius resists the urge to say, 'No shit, Sherlock.'

"Are you always this tired?"

"Not always."

Plain rejection, that's what this is.

But Sirius is already too bored with himself to give up.

"Have you been to America before?"

"Yes, my grandparents on one side live here."

"Do you like it here?"

"Mmhm."

Sirius can recognize an attempt to get him to leave someone alone when he sees it, so he turns forward again and goes back to his phone, resigning himself to his fate of being bored to death for five and a half more hours.

"What's your name?"

"Huh?"

Sirius turns his head, annoyed that now, once he's decided not to talk, British boy wants to.

"Your name. I don't want to keep calling you The-Bloke-Who's-Distracting-Me-From-Sleeping in my head."

For some reason that really grates at Sirius' nerves, though he knows it's stupid.

"It's Sirius," He says, stoic.

"A star. Interesting."

"My parents are gross."

"No, that's...that's nice."

Then, a yawn, which is even more aggravating.

"It really isn't," Sirius snaps. "My parents are assholes."

The boy looks slightly taken aback, and Sirius feels a mix of satisfaction and guilt build up inside him.

"I'm sorry about your parents."

"It's not your fault," Sirius mutters without making eye contact.

He knows he's being equally unfriendly to the British boy as vice versa, making him a huge hypocrite, but for some reason he's so annoyed at the moment that he doesn't want to remedy it.

The boy shrugs and crosses his arms, closing his eyes again.

Sirius just huffs and shakes his head. The boy probably won't even remember this conversation.

Then again...why does that make Sirius angry?

Sighing, he distracts himself with rereading an article all about old vinyl records. He succeeds in becoming so immersed in it that when the British boy's head drops onto his shoulder, he almost jumps.

Almost.

He's surprised and annoyed that the boy isn't waking up, and he sort of wants to shake him. Then again, the bags under the boy's eyes seem much more pronounced now than they had an hour ago.

The boy sniffles and reaches up a hand to rub at his nose before dropping it in his lap. His head rocks the slightest bit back and forth on Sirius' shoulder with the cabin movement, his hair brushing up against Sirius' neck.

He's not exactly attractive, Sirius thinks, but he has this obvious-though-attempting-to-be-hidden vulnerability about him that's sort of endearing. And disarming. And it makes Sirius' opinion of him soften the slightest bit.

How does that happen?

Sirius acknowledges it's weird that he's not being very discreet about observing this boy he's just met. But he keeps watching anyway.


"Sorry, Sirius," The boy says twenty minutes later, lifting his head from Sirius' collarbone and moving away without looking up at him, his voice pulling Sirius out of the velvet doze he's fallen into.

"S'fine," He says, shaking his head to rouse himself and running his hands through his hair as he shifts to sit up straighter, a yawn escaping him, too groggy to notice the ease with which the boy remembers his name. "Your exhaustion is contagious."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

They sit in silence for a minute until Sirius can't live with it anymore. He's not ready to die of boredom just yet.

He twists towards the boy, who's now gazing out the window, completely unaware that his hair is standing out on all sides.

"Hey."

The boy turns his head around and offers Sirius a small smile.

"Hi."

This is encouraging. Sirius pushes on.

"Did you say you were going to school in America?"

The boy nods.

"Mmhm."

"Where?"

"Pomona College."

"In California?"

Sirius wants to punch himself in the face for asking this, not foremost because the flight ends in California, but the boy doesn't seem fazed.

"Mmhm."

"That's..."

"That's what?"

"I'm going there too."

"Guess I'll see you there, then."

"Yep..." Sirius tries to suppress his smile at the fact that he already knows someone who goes to his college, and they're not on completely horrible terms (maybe), and he's pretty sure he's failing at that suppression miserably. "That's a pretty cool coincidence. Right?"

"Right."

A silence ensues that is more uncomfortable than any of the previous ones, mainly because both parties are alert and looking into the eyes of the other.

"My name is Remus," The British boy says quickly, breaking the tension, though not completely banishing it. "In case you wanted to know."

Sirius grins.

"Remus like raised by wolves, and put to death because he mocked the ways of Rome when his brother founded it? Cool."

The boy - Remus - gives him a queer look, and Sirius just widens his grin, as if to say, 'See? I know what your name means too.'

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Another silence ensues, but this time Remus pulls his earbuds out of his seat back pocket and plugs them into his armrest, turning on his television. Sirius unlocks his phone and flips through some songs he likes, but can't find one that satisfies him at this particular moment. He's actually quite tempted to listen to Hello, Goodbye but doesn't want to seem creepy. Even so, he watches Remus out of his peripheral vision. For some reason, though he's always crushed on people who looked conventionally 'hot,' he was very interested in trying to engage Remus in conversation, and he wasn't going to pretend he wasn't at least a small bit attracted to him.

He cracks.

"Are you bored?"

Remus pulls out his right earbud and shrugs.

"Not really."

Sirius takes his earbuds out and bunches them up, then untangles them. It's a long process, but it's calming, and it's something to do. He feels Remus watching him, and looks up. Their eyes meet, a clear question in both the green and grey.

"I'm bored."

"Can I help lessen your boredom?"

"Unless you want to kiss me or something climactic like that?" Sirius shrugs. "I doubt it."

"Oh."

"What?" Sirius smirks. "Did you wanna kiss me?"

"Not particularly. I think I'm too tired to really give it all I've got."

"That's a horrible excuse, man."

"I'm too tired to make up a good excuse."

Ignoring this, Sirius taps his home screen button to glance at the time. "Three hours to go."

"We're halfway there."

"Yup...What are you gonna do when you get to campus?"

"Sleep."

"Of course." Sirius rolls his eyes. How could he not have guessed?

"Jetlag is a good excuse."

"That's true."

"What about you?" When Sirius raises an eyebrow, he elaborates: "When you get to campus?"

"Simple." Sirius smirks. "I'll call you and keep you from sleeping."

Now it's Remus' turn to roll his eyes.

"Wonderful."

"What's your number?"

"Hm?"

"So I can annoy you all the time."

"Oh, right."

They exchange phones and type in contacts for each other.

Sirius doesn't even try to be normal (it's not his thing), inputting: SIRIUS THE GREAT PLANE PILLOW as his name. Once he's done, he clicks into Remus' home screen, simply because... why shouldn't he? He spots the green and black Spotify app in the upper right hand corner of the screen and taps into it.

"You have Spotify Premium?"

Remus looks up, eyes wide.

"Are you going through my phone?"

"Just your music. I love music."

"...Yeah okay." Remus shrugs and finishes with Sirius', setting the device down on the armrest between them.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

Sirius' eyebrows go very high.

"Never heard that one before."

"What one?"

"Someone being okay with me on their phone."

Remus scoffs.

"My phone is the least of my secrets."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

"So they're level ten friend secrets?"

A silence.

"Don't worry, I'll get up there soon enough."

Remus' expression darkens.

"I wouldn't be so sure that you'd want to."

This earns Remus a dubious look.

"You're too serious, Rem. As someone named Sirius, I'm hereby banning you from saying anything serious for the rest of the plane ride."

The dark expression brightens, if only by a fractional amount.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Absolutely."


"Two hours and thirty minutes."

"Who's serious now?"

"I'm always Sirius!"

Remus laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he twirls the end of an earbud between his forefinger and thumb. It's refreshing; Sirius' friends haven't actually laughed at that joke for years.

Sirius has found, in the past half hour, that Remus is actually capable of real smiles and laughter. Really. They just take a certain amount of time to start showing.

"You're always annoying," Remus quips.

"You're always tired."

"Am I?" A grin flashes across Remus' face, one that Sirius wishes would stay. "How do you know?"

"You just seem like a tired kinda guy."

"Well someone pushed my elbow off the armrest to tell me they were doing safety announcements, so my sleep was tainted forever."

Sirius gasps dramatically, adopting the most horrified expression possible.

"Lies! Slander! And anyway, I didn't know they did that every flight."

"It's still your fault."

"You were snoring half a minute later."

"I was not!"

"How would you know?"

"I dunno, intuition?"

"Kinda wish I'd taken a video so I'd have proof."

"I'm extremely glad you didn't."

"I'm not!" Sirius puts a hand to his heart, scandalized. "You were adorable."

Remus cringes, but Sirius can still see a blush color his cheeks, and he smiles wider in response.

"I'm really regretting falling asleep."

"I'm really regretting taking this flight. Then I wouldn't have had to be entertained at all. I could have just been bored."

"Well that's just cruel and uncalled for."

Remus tries to glare, but beams instead.

It makes Sirius giddy.


"Never have I ever ridden a camel."

"Can't say I have either," Sirius says, popping an M & M into his mouth. "We should do this again when we have alcohol. It'll be funner."

"More fun, Sirius," Remus chides. "And when would that be?"

"I'll have some about an hour after we land, British grammatically correct person."

"I bet you twenty pounds you won't."

"Don't have pounds, buddy. Just dollars."

"Right. Sorry."

"Don't apologize!" Sirius squints at him. "Never have I ever apologized for messing up money currencies."

"Shut it, you."

"Never."


There is only one hour left of the plane ride and conversation has slowly dissolved completely, though not awkwardly. Sirius is pseudo-looking out the window at the clouds sifting by, his gaze constantly flickering to where Remus is trying to stay awake, jerking himself upright every five seconds only to slouch in exhaustion the next moment.

"You know," Sirius says, causing Remus to look at him with half closed eyes, "I don't mind if you sleep on me. I mean, you already did it once."

"Prick," Remus mutters, but without much venom, and in minutes he's taken Sirius up on his offer and is completely wiped out on his shoulder.

Sirius resists the urge to brush hair out of the other boy's face, but lets his breath synch with Remus' as he drops off


Sirius jolts awake as the plane makes contact with the runway, blinking as his eyes adjust to the bright lights of the cabin.

It takes him awhile to orient himself, and by the time he does, the plane has stopped, and, next to him, Remus stands, yawning.

"Had a good rest, Sleeping Beauty?" Sirius smirks, stifling his own yawn with the back of his hand.

"Speak for yourself," Remus says, grinning sloppily, sticking one earbud in his ear and slinging his backpack over his shoulder as the lines to leave the plane begin to move.

"I will," Sirius retorts, knowing his eyes are glinting. "I feel completely rested, how about you?"

He says this with so much snark and gusto that for a moment he thinks Remus won't answer.

"I feel great," Remus says, in complete earnest. "Did you check any bags?"

"Two, yeah. You?"

"I checked one."

Sirius gets out of the row first and starts down the aisle backwards so that he can look at Remus while they talk. His eye bags are still prominent, but he seems happier than he had when they'd first been talking.

"Okay, so, we get our things," He says, "And then isn't there a shuttle that will take us to the campus?"

Remus nods.

"I think I read that somewhere, yes."

"Cool!"

"Thanks."

"No problem."


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