Sirius skips dinner and goes straight to bed, where he wracks his brain, trying to remember—even just a faint  tingle  of a memory—ever having a sweet, soft date with Remus. Remus, who was all books and comfy sweaters, who wore soft things to hide all his hard edges. Remus, who Sirius had stared at so much in fifth year that James had pulled him aside and told him to be careful, to not hurt him, and "you better be serious about this Pads, he has no one if he loses you." Remus, who James had chosen, and trusted, and loved, even when Sirius fucked up and hurt him and tried to get James to hurt him too. Remus, who Sirius wishes to have taken out on bookstore dates and romantic, soppy dates, and anything other than the memories he does have of the pub with their friends and a fuck at home after, just the right amount of drunk. 