Remus hadn't shown Sirius the tattoo expecting to gain anything from it. He had gotten it for himself, an in memoriam tattoo to a friend who, thought not dead, had disappeared from his life. All Remus has wanted was to ground any diffuse, spoken gratitude into a concrete decision he made almost 8 years ago.<br/>When Sirius reached out for him, it made the muscles in his abdomen tense and relax, Sirius' touch too much and too intimate; Remus hadn't realized just how badly he had wanted Sirius to touch him, anywhere.<br/>It was Sirius' question that made the ground disappear from beneath him, a thrill of vertigo running down his spine and settling, warm, in the pit of his stomach. It wiped the smile clean off his features, leaving him stunned and with his lips parted.<br/>Remus found it near impossible distinguishing the intent of the invitation. Up until now their interaction was loaded with intimacy of a different kind, and having to adjust to the thought that maybe Sirius wasn't asking tor a quieter place to talk almost broke Remus' mind ind half.<br/>Thoughtlessly, he let go of his shirt, sending a shiver across his skin. Sirius' hand, unwavering on his skin, now partially under his shirt, was distinctly<span style="font-style: italic">different</span>to the hug they had shared, making Remus' heart rate quicken.<br/>"Yeah," he breathed, a laugh creeping into both his voice and his features. He had realized the intent didn't matter, as long as he could keep Sirius' company another while longer. "Sure."