starfishstar

BOYS IN SPACE

Summary: "Talent shows and having cute hair and tragic/hot boys in outer space" (the Remus/Sirius AU). A.k.a. it's 1974…in a rather alternate universe.

Characters: Sirius, James, Remus / Pairing: Remus/Sirius

Words: ~850

Rating: PG, I guess, for David Bowie lyrics

Notes: This is a silly little giftfic I wrote for stereolightning – friend, beta, and comrade-in-pondering-writing-questions – who's hard at work on her first original novel (go, stereolightning!) She mentioned to me that this current novel is the longest project she's ever worked on, though she did write a short "novel" in seventh grade, which she described as being "about middle school preoccupations like talent shows and having cute hair and tragic/hot boys in outer space."

I said, that sounds like it should be a Marauders-era Remus/Sirius AU! …and then I ended up writing it. So, this won't make all that much sense beyond that, but I giggled at the writing of it, so maybe you'll enjoy it, too. (This is in the grand tradition of cute, fluffy Remus/Sirius pining fics, of which I have read and enjoyed so many over the years, but until now never written!)

Story:

“Come on, Sirius,” James said, practically whingeing. “Are you going to come work on our song for the talent show or not?”

It was the third-to-the-last day of the Hogwarts annual starship-borne field trip to outer space, which meant that the annual end-of-field-trip talent show was only two days away.

Never tearing himself away from the sight of his own reflection in their bunkroom’s mirror, Sirius moaned, “But my hair.”

“Your hair is fine, you dork,” James said. “Our song, though, is not fine.”

“My hair,” Sirius said again, quieter this time.

He prodded at it again with his wand, but it kept just…lying there. Being sort of shaggy-ish. Not arrestingly dramatic. Those were the exact words Remus had used yesterday about Eric Rawlin’s hair. Arresting and dramatic.

“‘M not dramatic enough,” Sirius mumbled.

“You’re plenty dramatic, believe me,” James grumbled back at him. “One more time, Sirius: Do you want to practise our song for the talent show, thus actually being able to demonstrate, y’know, talent, or do you want to sit there like a doofus and let Rawlin and his lot take first prize?”

Sirius’ head snapped up. “Rawlin?”

“Yeah. They’re having their rehearsal on the Hufflepuff deck right now, just like we should be doing here, if you’d stop staring at your own ugly mug in the mirror.”

“I agree with the hot one,” the mirror said to Sirius. “Frankly, scrunching up your face like that isn’t doing you any favours.”

“What??” Sirius spluttered. “Since when is James the hot one?”

The mirror gave a creaky little shudder that was probably the mirror equivalent of a shrug. Well, the outer space mirror equivalent. Physics seemed to work a little differently out here, even with powerful gravity spells going.

Sirius squawked with indignation, but James just laughed.

“Now will you come rehearse?” he demanded. “Whoever you’re trying to impress, it’s looking like you’ve got a better chance of doing it with your singing than your brooding good looks.”

“It’s tragic,” Sirius told the room at large. “It’s just really tragic.”

“Maybe if you’re fourteen,” wheezed the ORCA (Oxygen Recycling and Conjuration Apparatus) in the corner.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Fluffing his dark hair a last, desperate time with his fingers, Sirius gripped the neck of his bass guitar and followed James onto the makeshift stage by the captain’s control deck.

The depths of space and the endless stars whizzed past the enormous glass viewing field behind them. This was the last evening of the trip; tomorrow they would be back at Hogwarts, back on Earth.

Rawlin and all those Hufflepuffs had been all right, maybe, but “Rocket Man” wasn’t exactly an original choice for an outer space talent show.

The Slytherins, of course, would never have deigned to play a Muggle song, no matter how much the rage that was these days, but their cover of the wizard rock song “Only Magic on the Moon” was plenty creepy.

The Ravenclaws’ “Amoureuse” had been a clever way to slip in an outer-space nod (“I feel the rainfall of another planet…”) but their delivery was pedestrian. Little enough competition there.

Now James and Sirius, as the duo for Gryffindor, were up. Sirius scanned the audience. Where was Remus? There was Pete, in with the other Gryffindors, but where had Remus got to?

Sirius shook his head to clear it and looked over at James. They’d argued for days about which “Ziggy Stardust” song to play, but it had never been a question of whether or not they would play Bowie. It was always going to be Bowie.

They nodded at each other and James counted off.

“I’m an alligator, I’m a mama-papa coming for you.”

James took the verses and Sirius would take the choruses, that was the plan.

“I’m the space invader, I’ll be a rock ‘n’ rollin’ bitch for you.”

Glancing up from his concentration on the bass strings as James sang, Sirius saw McGonagall’s eyebrows climbing higher and higher, and he couldn’t help but grin. Dumbledore’s policy: He didn’t censor what the students were allowed to sing.

Sirius’ turn now.

“Keep your ‘lectric eye on me, babe,” he sang.
“Put your ray gun to my head.”

FINALLY, there was Remus, edging in up front near the stage, a big smile on his face as he looked up at them.

“Press your space face close to mine, love.”

No, it was Sirius he was looking at.

“Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!” Sirius almost slipped up and sang, Moony. A Moony daydream.

James took the verse.

Sirius took the chorus.

“Press your space face close to mine, love.
Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!”

James went off into his guitar solo, but Sirius wasn’t paying attention to that anymore. He no longer cared if James got the notes right. He was too busy watching Remus.

Remus, who was looking right at him. Remus, who didn’t seem to care if Sirius’ hair wasn’t arresting or dramatic. Remus, who was smiling as if Sirius were singing the song just for him.

Maybe he was.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The End