Harry Potter Make me feel your words on my skin

Make me feel your words on my skin.

Chapter one: Your words—Sirius style

**AN: I like to pretend 'Creep' is a song from when Sirius was younger—I'm perfectly aware of the fact that it's not, so don't dare complain about it. It happens in my head, so you'll let it be—so ye be warned: I'm aware of the mistake Song is 'Creep' by Radiohead, of course.**

Sirius was a bit afraid. He was happy to admit it—or maybe he wasn't happy, but he didn't mind admitting it—he wanted to curse James, but right now his brunette friend was the only thing keeping him sane, so he couldn't really do that. But, all things considered, his present, freaking-out state was all James' fault. And James didn't even seem to feel guilty about it. He was actually proud of putting Sirius in such a situation—even though the boy was dying inside.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror—luckily the fright didn't show on his face. James popped his head in through the door, and waited for Sirius to get up. Yeah, he was scared—_oh_, so scared—but he'd kisses Remus and Remus'd run away. So this needed to be fixed. Only thinking of that kiss made him feel weak in the knees, no matter how big of a cliché that was. He knew he'd handled it all wrong. Going up to your best friend and just kissing him like that is not how you do it. That's not how it works.

Not to mention, that Sirius had of course been Sirius, which meant he'd grabbed Remus' ass, to top it all off. That had given the kiss such a bad look—the grabbing of ones ass was everything Sirius _didn't_ want to say in that moment. He only wanted to come clean with Remus and admit his true feelings. But it hadn't worked at all—and now they weren't talking. He couldn't forget how hurt Remus had looked, and that was just it. Sirius didn't know how to tell him how he felt—but, first things first. If Sirius managed to get Remus to talking basis again, they could move on from there.

Although that might then screw up their friendship all over again, Sirius was beyond caring at this moment—he needed to be able to tell Remus how he felt. Even if that meant spending the rest of his life without the boy. We all know Sirius Black—he's not one to bottle up his emotions, and he was sick of it. He was telling Remus. He was telling Remus, and it would be good.

"Sirius!"

Sirius snapped his head up, looking away from his own reflection. James was waiting by the door still, and finally pushed his way through the door, walking over to his best-friend-in-distress. He got off his chair, sighing deeply—this was it.

"Don't forget to say 'he' instead of 'she'," James patted his shoulder, walking him over to the door. "Otherwise it'll be completely off."

Sirius dumbly nodded—he was suddenly having second thoughts. Oh, Goddammit, he should have never let James bribe him into doing this. It would be awful! He didn't think he looked that good anymore, and maybe his voice wasn't as nice as it sounded before—but James just grinned and murmured: "you look excellent and you've got an amazing voice—not to mention a talent for the guitar. Now get your butt on stage."

And before Sirius could complain, he was steadily walking onto the stage, into the warm lights. There were some guys nodding at him, holding guitars, and one behind drums. He could vaguely feel hundreds of eyes on him—the Three Broomsticks was absolutely cramped, so much was sure—and before he moved further into the spots, he looked into the crowd.

James hadn't lied—he'd kept his end of the bargain—Remus was sitting next to the raven-head, and though he blushed when he saw Sirius, he didn't avert his eyes. Sirius checked himself in one of the mirrors hung at the side of the stage. He looked presentable. Navy-blue tight jeans and a grey shirt. He was okay. He could do this.

One of the musicians handed him a guitar, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder and he walked on, heading for the mic. Feeling a lurch in his stomach and not particularly liking it he wondered why he'd chosen this song—he knew why, of course. It seemed suitable. It matched how Sirius felt—no matter how strange that sounded, even to him. And of course, it was the song he'd played when he was younger—the first song he'd ever been able to play on his guitar, sometimes being off a bit, but he'd learned now. It was the only song he'd ever want to sing in front of an audience, the end.

Swinging the guitar around his shoulder and holding it in place with one hand, he took the mic in his other and said—his voice quivering: "uhm, I'd like to dedicate this to Remus Lupin—I'm sorry I hurt you," there were some catcalls—Sirius glared when he saw James was howling—and Remus' eyes widened. "I know I've been wrong in the past, and I'm sorry for it—but you can't make me be sorry for loving you."

The room was suddenly very quiet—he didn't look up at Remus, and knew everyone was probably in shock. Looking down he released the mic and nervously put his plectrum to the cords, and then he was off. The others joined him immediately, not missing a beat. The soft tune filled the room, the instruments becoming one, light drum and soft guitar drifting off. Before Sirius even realized, his own voice was singing—and it didn't sound too bad either: "when you were here before," he barely recognized his own voice, or the words he was singing. He looked up and saw Remus looking at him intently—he didn't ever want to stop looking, and locked eyes with him. "Couldn't look you in the eye," it was amazing, this liberating feeling—he'd found the perfect way to tell Remus all he wanted to say, and he couldn't believe he'd never thought of this before. "You're just like and angel, your skin makes me cry," even through the damp air and the darkness he could see the brunette blushing deeply at his words—he didn't make a move, just continued singing. "You float like a feather, in a beautiful world," he saw Remus' cheeks brighten even more—and was that vain hope or did his eyes sparkle? "I wish I was special," the music spiked up a bit. "You're so fucking special," and then it went off with a drum, and his fingers moved faster, playing the cords like it's all he ever did. "But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here," they went slow again, the music continuing softly. "I don't care if it hurts."

He knew this was probably the single most important moment in his life. He'd never been this upright with anyone before. And he knew that Remus would know what a bastard he was—because he was willing to risk it all, even if he wasn't guarantied that Remus felt the same way. He'd give up their friendship, for only the slightest possibility that maybe this feeling was mutual.

"I want to have control," Remus was just sitting there, and Sirius was still not able to look away from the boy. "I want a perfect body," he closed his eyes for only a second, and focused on the ceiling, he knew it must look ridiculous, as if he was praying or something. "I want a perfect soul," but he deserved this—he deserved this moment, and he looked at Remus again—trying to make him realize just how much he meant it all. "I want you to notice, when I'm not around," trying to make him know he wanted Remus so much and he would do anything to have him. "You're so fucking special, I wish I was special."

He stroked the cords hard again, and the drum buzzed in louder. And Remus was still just looking, but dammit, he wanted to do this and he couldn't be distracted. He was halfway there, and enjoying it, so he had to make this fit.

"But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo," he was nearly yelling and Merlin, he was loving every second of it, because this was true freedom. "What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here," he was practically jumping up and down, and people were already applauding and screaming for more—Remus was the only one that stayed completely motionless. "Ooh, ooh, he's running out again," he didn't even think about saying 'she' because this was for Remus and Remus was most definitely a 'he'. "He's running out, he run, run, run, run, run!" Stretching the last 'run's as far as he could—and not even missing the key, his hands slowed down again.

The drum nearly died away, and it was so silent, the music filling the still room—people's eyes were still wide and Remus was still just… but Sirius couldn't stop now—this was maybe the most important part. He needed it to be good.

"Whatever makes you happy," he almost spoke, giving Remus a clear nod and a tinny smile—because it was true. Anything for the brunette. "Whatever you want," his voice turned softer. "You're so fucking special, I wish I was special," now it was barely above a whisper, still radiating through the thick air and reaching even outside the café. "But I'm a creep," he managed to make it sound hurt—just the right tad. "I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here?" he bent his head a bit closer, but his eyes stayed on Remus. "I don't belong here," the others dropped back, room infinitely silent as Sirius played the last notes by himself and whispered: "I don't belong here."

The applause that broke after one second of complete silence was overwhelming. The musicians were patting his back in awe, complimenting him about his performance, and for a moment he was unaware of his surrounding—just happy he'd done something _good_ for once. Then someone tugged him by his jeans, and he glanced down. James was by the stage, tugging him closer, and he had Remus with him. The stage wasn't so high, and Sirius was going to talk—anything to make Remus realize he'd been perfectly honest—but then Remus was standing on tiptoes, and pulled his head down, kissing him full on the lips. The audience completely burst at the brunette's move, and Sirius happily lifted him up—he knew Remus would protest about him treating him like a girl later, but he couldn't care now—and twirled him around in a moment of sheer happiness.

Remus wrapped his arms tightly around Sirius neck, and when their lips parted, for only a second he whispered: "you've always been perfect to me."

And they didn't separate again until James forced them apart, telling them to get a room or at least leave the stage—even though the applause was still blazing through the room.

**AN: Next up is the lemon part. (BoyOnBoy-love, living and breathing) After that I think I'll make a 'Your words—James style' to Lucius… but I'm not too sure. Let me know what you thought anyways! To know if you're up for the lemon or not!**


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Harry Potter, Friendship, Romance