Chapter Text
Remus Lupin’s life changed on a Wednesday, of all days.
By all accounts, it should have changed on a Monday; that’s when he’d originally planned to return to work after his short summer holiday. He’d been visiting his father, Lyall, in his Welsh hometown and had only intended to stay for a three-day weekend. As Sunday came and went, though, things kept cropping up that delayed Remus’s departure: the internet connection needed fixing, some fencing around the garden needed replacing, an oversized play tower Lyall bought for the cats had to be hauled out of the boot of his car and assembled...it went on like that for ages. Every day, Remus would declare half-heartedly that he really had to get back to work, but he was secretly glad to have excuses to spend more time with his father. He only got back home a few times a year, busy as he was, and knew the missing was mutual.
So it was Wednesday when Remus gave Lyall a long hug goodbye on a platform at Cardiff Central before catching an early morning train back to London. He had just enough time to stop home, change, and sort out his mail before hopping on his bike and heading into work.
The first thing he noticed was the paint job.
Remus locked up his bike in its usual place on a rack that stood a few meters from his shop’s front doors. He was adjusting his rucksack on his shoulder when he looked up at the building next door to his and stopped, staring curiously. When he’d left last week, the brick facade had been painted an off-white; not unattractive, although years of neglect on the upkeep followed by nearly a full year of abandonment had left it cracked and peeling in places. It had received a makeover in Remus’s absence, now painted a slate gray that gave the place new life. It had also gotten a new sign; white with red bordering, and bold, black letters spelling out BLACK DOG TATTOOS.
His own shop, Fedelius Flowers, looked the same as he’d left it, with its pale yellow paint and assortment of blooming plants in window boxes and terra cotta pots. A bell jingled softly as he pushed open the door. Alerted by the noise, a young woman looked up from the thick textbook she had cracked open on the front counter next to the register. “Wotcher, Remus,” she said with a smile. “Welcome back. As you can see, I haven’t burned the place down.”
“Hello, Alice,” Remus replied, grinning back. “I didn’t doubt you for a moment. What’d I miss? The delivery for the Dearborn wedding went off alright?”
Alice filled him in on the events of the past six days; the wedding delivery had indeed gone smoothly, and they’d received a thank-you note and a generous tip from the mother of the bride for fulfilling their order on such short notice. The rest of the week had been business as usual. August was a steady but not overly busy time for the shop, with the occasional wedding or engagement party supplementing their regular orders, such as the small arrangements they did for meetings of the local garden club, historical society and woman’s club.
After he’d gotten caught up on news, Remus made his way to his tiny back office, putting an ancient kettle on a hotplate as his official first order of business for the week. Sorting through his desk, he noticed Alice had been keeping up with the shop’s emails and had jotted down any phone calls he’d missed with name, date, time and reason for calling. Bless that Alice Longbottom, he thought as he steeped tea for them in a pair of mugs. Remus didn’t know what he’d do without the help of his sole full-time employee.
Reemerging in the front of the shop, Remus leaned a hip on the edge of the front counter and passed one of the drinks to Alice. “So, I’ve noticed we have new neighbors next door,” he said before taking a sip of his own.
“Oh my god, that’s right, you missed it!” Alice said in a rush, setting down the mug she’d raised halfway to her mouth as Remus was talking. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “Have you had a look at the owners?”
“Er...no,” Remus said, a questioning lilt at the end of the word. Alice clearly had something she wanted to say about them, whoever they were. “But I saw the building. Are they open already?” Before he’d left, the only indication they’d had that the place would soon have tenants was the removal of the “To Let” sign. Remus was surprised and more than a little impressed at how much work had been done in just six days; the exterior looked like new, and the inside looked at least partially set up, from the brief glance he’d taken through the tall front windows.
“I don’t think they’re fully up and running, no; they’ve still got workers coming and going,” Alice replied. “They showed up literally the morning after you left.” She paused, leaning in conspiratorially. “You’re going to want to go over there, Remus. The people who own the place are famous.”
“Famous tattoo artists?” Remus asked, quirking an eyebrow. He couldn’t think of many.
Alice pulled out her mobile from the pocket of her linen jumpsuit, tapping quickly with the hand not holding her tea. “Instagram-famous, at least. Look!” She turned her phone around and Remus peered down at Black Dog Tattoos’ Instagram feed. Scanning the screen, he learned that they had a few hundred posts already of various finished pieces, shot as closeups without clients’ faces—not a new business, then, Remus thought. The most interesting bit was their follower count: 2.7 million. He also noticed their bio included a line about having just moved to a new location.
“Right, well, they’ve got us beat,” Remus said, looking back up from the screen to Alice. “Why move here, though? I mean, it’s a nice area, but...doesn’t seem like the ideal location for a tattoo shop.” Fedelius Flowers was one of only a few businesses on that particular avenue in Maida Vale. The quiet, affluent residential district was characterized by its leaf-lined streets, trendy cafes and a picturesque canalside. Most of Remus’s clients were community-minded retirees and well-to-do families that looked like they’d stepped out of a Pottery Barn catalog. It didn’t seem to him the right demographic for the services offered next door.
Alice shrugged, tucking her phone back into her pocket and wrapping both hands around her warm mug. “Seems like they have enough of a following to move just about anywhere,” she said. Then she threw Remus a smirk, waggling her eyebrows. “Besides, you know the grannies that come in here are cheekier than they look.”
“You’re right,” Remus mused, grinning. “Maybe Mrs. Gadsby will be first in line!”
“Oh, she would do, yeah, definitely,” Alice laughed before leaning forward again in that same conspiratorial manner. “But Remus. Remus. They aren’t just famous; they’re gorgeous.”
“Oh? What, you’ve been checking them out through the windows all creeper-like?” Remus teased.
“Duh,” Alice replied, unruffled. “Frank spotted them, too, when he was picking up for the Dearborn wedding on Saturday. He fully agrees.” She was referring to her husband, a nursery school teacher who also worked as part-time driver for Remus, handling the larger deliveries. “It’s a man and a woman; they could be married, but they sort of look related. Both of them look like supermodels, but like...punk-rock supermodels.” She gave Remus a pointed look. “The guy is absurdly hot, Remus. You should say hi.”
Remus laughed, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll be saying hi regardless. They’re new neighbors, it’s the polite thing to do.”
“You know what would be even more polite? Taking your ‘new neighbor’ to dinner,” Alice said with a carefully schooled expression of innocence. With her short stature, round eyes, playful pixie cut and a face that looked younger than a 28-year-old’s, it was almost believable. But then she winked.
“Christ, you’re shameless.”
“I’m telling you! One look at him and you’ll be agreeing with me, too.”
“I’ll be sure and wear my best dress,” Remus deadpanned before tapping his finger on the open textbook between them. “Now tell me how exam prep is going. Do I need to supplement your tea with espresso?”
The rest of the day was unexpectedly busy and Remus, who’d shown up already tired from the early train ride, was grateful when four o’clock rolled around and it was time to close. He left ten minutes after Alice did, locking the door behind him and slinging his rucksack over his shoulder before cycling home. Instead of relaxing once he’d arrived back at his rented studio flat, though, Remus headed to the kitchen to throw a batch of brownies together. Remus was an excellent baker and had a massive sweet tooth; it came as no surprise that he had all the ingredients he needed even after being away for nearly a full week. An hour later, he was wrapping up the brownies for transport (after eating one himself—for quality control, of course).
He checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror before leaving to make sure he wasn’t covered in flour or cocoa powder. Despite the warm summer weather, he had on a cream-colored jumper, tan trousers rolled at the ankles and boots. He ran a hand through his soft brown hair to tame some of the wilder curls. His eyes inevitably found the long, white scar that cut diagonally over the freckles across his nose and right cheek and he frowned at it, pulling back to look himself over from head to foot and shrugging when he decided he was presentable enough to meet the new business owners.
It was nearing six when Remus arrived back in front of Black Dog Tattoos, but the lights were still on and there was movement inside. Remus opened the door with one hand, carrying the package of brownies in the other, and found himself in a waiting room with a main reception desk, two sofas, a handful of chairs and a long, wood-and-metal coffee table with a stack of binders on it. The furniture was modern with an industrial flair; the room nicely lit and spotless. The exposed brick walls housed tons of artwork, from black-and-white photographs and modern paintings to the rows and rows of tattoo sketches which showcased more styles than Remus had known existed. He could see several private rooms straight back behind the front desk. The Kinks were playing over the sound system. It sort of felt like someone’s very cool flat, and Remus liked how inviting it was.
He was still looking around when one of the most striking people he’d ever encountered walked up from one of the back rooms. “Hi there. We’re not open just yet, love,” she said with an apologetic smile. Alice had not been exaggerating when she’d described this woman. Sleek black hair tumbled all the way down to her waist, punctuated by a few streaks of silver. Her dark brows arched elegantly above almond-shaped brown eyes, a slightly pointed nose and high cheekbones. Her makeup was flawless, from her plum lipstick to her winged eyeliner. She looked like royalty. If not for her piercings (small, black gauges in her ears, studs through her left brow and a ring through her bottom lip) and outfit (a form-fitting, ribbed black tank top, high-waisted trousers with a black and white striped pattern and black heels), Remus thought she could have been pulled from a dinner scene in Downton Abbey.
“Oh, no—I’m not here for an appointment, actually,” Remus replied, turning to face her fully. “My name’s Remus, I own the flower shop next door. I wanted to welcome you to the street.” He held the brownies out in front of him.
“Oh!” Her eyes lit up and her smile lost its sympathetic slant. “That’s very sweet of you, thanks. Andromeda Black.” She extended a hand. “I’m co-owner. Nice to meet you, Remus.”
“Likewise,” Remus said with a smile, handing the brownies over. “I would have come over sooner, but I’d just gone on holiday the day before you moved in.”
Andromeda waved away the implied apology, setting the brownies down on the front counter and oohing over them appreciatively. “I’m just happy you came in at all. I think most of the neighbors are scared of us.”
Remus laughed a bit at that. “Well, they’re not as prudish as you might think.” Andromeda raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe they are, but it’s a nice neighborhood. They’ll come ‘round.”
“I hope so,” she said, breaking off a bite-sized piece of brownie and popping it in her mouth. “Oh no, these are way too good! You’re a very dangerous person to work next door to.”
“That’s what they call me, yeah. Remus Lupin: Very Dangerous Florist.”
She returned his grin. “You said you’re the owner? You look like you’re barely out of uni.”
“Not quite. Just turned thirty in the spring. But I’ve run the shop for about six years now, so basically since I was just out of school, yeah.”
“That’s fucking impressive,” Andromeda said. “My cousin Sirius—he’s co-owner with me—he’s the same age as you. It takes a lot of nerve and a lot of hustle.”
Cousins, Remus thought. So they were related, not a couple, like Alice had guessed. “I’m sort of married to the place at this point,” he said with a laugh and nod of agreement. “We’re open six days a week, 8-4. Sundays are my off day. I have one full-timer and some part-time help but, yeah, it’s a lot of work.” He paused, gesturing to the tattoos on the wall. “Are these yours?”
“Oh, no,” Andromeda said, looking over at them for a moment then back at Remus. “Sirius is the artist. This whole place was his vision, really. But he’s shit at the business side of things, so I make sure bills are paid and appointments are set up and all. I do the piercings, too.”
Remus opened his mouth to reply but at that moment, they were joined in the front room by Sirius himself. And, oh. Alice was very, very accurate in her description of him, too. He stood about a head shorter than Remus (not a big surprise there; Remus was six foot two) and was obviously quite fit under his leather jacket, well-worn Sex Pistols t-shirt and jeans that hugged his lower half in ways that were borderline inappropriate. He was also wearing heavy, black motorcycle boots that should have looked ridiculous but somehow worked. Black hair fell in carelessly gorgeous waves to his shoulders—sex hair, Remus’s brain unhelpfully supplied—and he had the same aristocratic bone structure as Andromeda. His jaw was more defined, though, more masculine, with just a hint of five o’clock shadow. The most striking difference between them was his eyes; instead of Andromeda’s brown, they were gray, just a few shades lighter than the paint they’d used on the building. Those eyes flicked from Andromeda to Remus, who took what he hoped was a subtle, steadying breath.
“Speak of the devil,” Andromeda said, glancing between them. “Sirius, this is Remus Lupin. He owns the flower shop next door and came to say hello. With baked goods, I might add.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re officially my favorite neighbor, Remus Lupin,” Sirius said with a devastating smirk, offering a hand. Remus could see the hint of a dragon’s tail peeking out from the sleeve of his jacket and tried very hard not to imagine how many tattoos Sirius had, and where.
“That’s all it takes, huh? I should’ve brought some to my landlord’s when I was late with the rent,” Remus replied, shaking his outstretched hand for perhaps a second longer than was absolutely necessary.
Sirius’s smirk widened into an even more devastating smile. “Booze also does the trick, in my experience.” He walked over to the counter, pilfered half a brownie from the tray and popped it in his mouth while dodging a swat from Andromeda with an easy, loping grace. “I take it back,” he said after swallowing, looking at Remus with raised eyebrows. “Sod the booze. These are heaven.”
Remus laughed, warmed by the praise. “My landlord’s sort of a dick, but I’ll try it next time.”
“Live around here, then?” Sirius asked, propping an elbow on the counter.
“Mhm. Studio flat, about ten minutes away by bike. It took ages to find; rent is insane around here.” Remus always joked it was the smallest piece of property in Maida Vale, but it was worth not having to take the Tube or a taxi to work in the morning.
“You’re telling me,” Sirius agreed. “But I was already paying out my arse in Soho, so when we moved the shop here, I moved upstairs.” He pointed to the ceiling. “Bit small, but it’s got a decent kitchen and little lounge that’s separate from the bedroom. Andy’s up in Canonbury with an excellent sofa she never lets me crash on.”
“Take it up with your niece; she’s always got friends over. Besides, I see enough of your ugly mug at work,” Andromeda said, grabbing her purse and the brownies before Sirius could do more than shout in protest and snatch one or two as she passed by him. “Right lads, Canonbury calls. Don’t be a stranger, Remus!”
“Fucking thief!” Sirius said in lieu of goodbye as the door closed behind her. He grinned at Remus again, taking him in with those gray eyes. “So. As a local expert, can you tell me where I can find decent takeaway? The deli on the corner is shit.”
He didn’t know when it happened, but Remus found himself sat in one of the chairs across from Sirius, who was leaning back in his own with a foot resting on his opposite knee and listening. Remus told him about his favorite chip shop, the best places for curry, Chinese and pizza and where to find the cheapest beer. Sirius was easy to talk to; Remus almost felt like they’d already been friends for a while with their comfortable banter. He was also quite literally the most gorgeous man Remus had ever laid eyes on, but that was just an added bonus. He was sure Sirius had a significant other who was probably just as unreasonably attractive.
The sun began to set outside the windows of the shop, catching Remus’s attention. “I’ve probably kept you too long,” he said, getting to his feet reluctantly. Sirius didn’t seem to be in any hurry, either, standing slowly and stretching his arms above his head as he gave a huge yawn. He glowed in the golden evening light; Remus was reminded of a lion getting ready to sleep in the warm savannah.
“Bloody knackered from the week,” he said, rolling his shoulders a bit. “Andy’s a slave driver. But I want to get up and running, too. Monday, I think.”
Remus nodded, a mental image of Sirius hauling boxes in nothing but his tight jeans and t-shirt dancing through his mind, unbidden. “The place looks great, really,” he said with a smile. “And anything you need, just pop over. I’m in around 7:30 every day except Sundays.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” Sirius replied, and was Remus imagining things or was his (already sexy) voice just a tiny bit lower as he said it? Remus made his way to the front door, Sirius hanging back a bit.
“Hey,” Sirius said suddenly as Remus put a hand on the door handle. Remus turned back around and was met with a playful grin. “I thought of something I need.”
“Oh?” Remus swallowed hard.
“Yep. I had this really badass cactus for the front counter—tall and pointy with red flowers on—but it was a casualty of the move. And now that I know a plant guru…”
Remus’s heart skipped. “I have some like that, yeah. Never heard anyone call a cactus ‘badass’ before, though, I’ve got to tell you.”
“But I’m not wrong,” Sirius said, grin widening. “I’ll come by tomorrow, then?”
“Sure.” Remus grinned wryly. “You can discuss the badassery of various plantlife with all the little old church ladies.”
“Sounds like an excellent use of time. See you, Remus.”
“Goodnight, Sirius.”
Remus didn’t even mind cycling home in the dark. He dreamt of dragons and bright gray eyes.