For the Fanfiction Tournament- October

For the Pairing Diversity Boot Camp with the prompt: flabbergasted

And for the Slash Boot Camp with the prompt: please

And for the 100 Different Characters Competition with the prompt: chocolate

The kitchen is silent and there's an unasked question lingering in the space between them. But they don't know how to put it into words, because it's not as simple as it used to be. And they can't go on as if time and Azkaban don't change a man. It's been more than a decade of misconceptions and regret, but now it's over, and they're over it. Yet forward motion is unthinkable, and picking up where they left off just doesn't seem right, and they don't know what to do.

Sirius doesn't want to ask the question and if he's honest with himself, he doesn't know if he wants to know the answer. He just leans against the counter and crosses his arms, unsure of what to say and struggles to meet Remus' eyes. He waits for him to make a move, to open his mouth, to do something. But he doesn't. He won't.

Sirius takes in the man's appearance and he sees that his robes are still worn, and his eyes are still weary, and he's still so infuriatingly calm. It's as if he has no idea what Sirius is thinking, which is simply not true. And while he seems to be content to just stand there with his hands in his pockets and watch his friend squirm, Sirius can't do that. He needs to do something, so he asks a different question; one that he already knows the answer to.

"Hot chocolate?" he mumbles and turns on the stove.

"Always," is the reply. It's soft and barely more than a whisper, but even so, the sound of Remus' voice manages to reach him deep down in ways the Dementors never could. And it hurts like a wound that never healed, but he's glad. Because even though his heart is breaking, it's because it's too heavy and it means his soul may be bruised but still intact. And both belong to Remus.

They continue to stand and stare for a moment more before Remus finally speaks up. "You look like hell," he says.

Sirius can only nod and wonder how long it's been since he's looked in a mirror. He's avoided it at all costs. He doesn't want to see what hell looks like; it's enough to know how it feels. He's more than ready to forget, but he can't do it by himself.

And all at once, Sirius can't stop the words from forming and he reaches over to turn off the stove; his bloody hot chocolate can wait.

He opens his mouth, but he doesn't ask Remus anything. He can't bear to let the weight of the moment be a question, because he can't take the hint of uncertainty. And so he does what he would never dare do before.

He begs.

"Please," he says hoarsely. The old Sirius Black would be ashamed but twelve years and sleepless Azkaban nights have proven that he is not above begging. Not anymore. He crosses the room and comes to stand before Remus who looks at him, utterly flabbergasted and rightly concerned. Sirius doesn't care. "Please," he says again. "Please."

Remus shakes his head, not understanding. "Please what?"

"Love me." Sirius takes a shaky breath and holds his hands out palms up. He has nothing to offer. He has nothing to hold onto. He's helpless and he hates it and all he wants is one thing. "Please, love me."

Suddenly, Sirius' hands are no longer empty and Remus is answering the question that wasn't asked by pressing his lips to his. And it's not like it was before; it's desperate and tearful and bittersweet. And it's all right. Because Sirius is where he belongs and he doesn't have to wonder anymore.