Chapter Text
Queer Eye: More Than a Makeover
Series 5, Episode 10: A Wolf in Chic Clothing
London! The Gherkin glitters in the hot summer sun. Locals on their lunch breaks picnic in St. James Park. Tourists take selfies in Trafalgar Square. An all-electric Kia SUV rolls gracefully along bustling cobblestone streets. Inside the SUV is the Triple Threat:
Peter Pettigrew (Food & Wine) is in the driver’s seat, looking breezy with his wispy blonde hair and a light blue and white striped dress shirt tucked into khakis.
In the passenger seat is James Potter (Health & Lifestyle), dark hair an intentionally tousled mess that only he can pull off. His glasses are timeless tortoiseshell, and his graphic tee (cropped just short of his designer jeans, granting a peek at toned lower abs) features a rough doodle of the Pillsbury dough boy and the inexplicable phrase Crime Club in bold block letters.
Buckled into the middle of the back seat is Sirius Black (Style), an obsidian vision in a form-fitting black top with star-shaped cutouts along the collar. The top is tucked neatly at his waist into black wide-legged trousers, and the look is finished with a black leather belt with a gold buckle.
Sirius turns his head sharply toward the side window and a long, gold earring flashes through his shoulder-length raven waves. He leans toward the window and cranes his neck to look at a passing building, then after a moment pops back into his seat and faces forward again. He deadpans, “I swear to god we just passed something called The Vagina Museum.”
“What?!” Peter splutters.
James cackles.
All things just keep getting better!
The electro-pop earworm of a theme song plays over black-and-white, slo-mo footage of James, Peter and Sirius dressed to the nines and showing off their flirtiest dance moves.
You came into my life, and the world never looked so bright. (Yeah!)
It's true, you bring out the best in me, when you are around. (When you are around!)
All things just keep getting better-etter-etter…
The neon rainbow QE logo appears over the dancing Triple Threat. All fades to black, and then we're back in the SUV!
James reads from a document tucked inside a hot pink folder in his lap: “Our hero this week is Remus Lupin!”
Sirius and Peter cheer and whoop for Remus!
“Remus Lupin?” Sirius echoes. “Is he a man or a wolf?”
“He's an English Literature teacher at a secondary school,” says James.
“Aww,” awws Peter.
In a bright secondary school classroom, uniformed students pay varying levels of attention to a lanky man gesturing spiritedly in front of a white board. The man has fluffy, honey-colored hair that falls just past his ears, and wears a faded wool jumper in multiple shades of brown over tan corduroy trousers.
“For your last homework of the term,” he says to cheers from the students, “you can either write a three-page analysis of Macbeth, which would be boring, but acceptable–” This elicits scattered giggles. “–or, you can write a brand new scene of your own devising. It could be an epilogue, a prequel, or something you want to add in the middle. Use your imagination!”
A talking head of the man gives us a closer look. Beneath the unkempt cloud of brown hair are milk chocolate eyes and a jaw of patchy, salt-and-pepper facial hair. He looks not unlike Shaggy from Scooby-Doo.
“My name's Remus, and I'm a teacher,” he tells the camera. His voice is timid but his eyes sparkle with life. “I love teaching. The kids are great. Even though I've read these books about a hundred times at this point,” he says with a self-conscious chuckle, “I find myself learning something new from the students every year.”
In the SUV, Sirius snatches a page from James’s folder – it's Remus’s photo.
“Oh, he’s cute,” Sirius says. He often calls the heroes cute, but never with this particular undertone of surprise.
James reads from the next page, “Remus was nominated by his best friend Tonks, a fellow teacher who helps him run the school's Dungeons & Dragons club.”
A talking head of Tonks reveals a sweet face, close-cropped bubblegum pink hair, a black choker necklace and colorful top.
“Remus is the best,” they fawn. “He works so hard to make class fun, and the students just adore him. They look up to him, too. They trust him. He’s a safe person for them to go to when they’re struggling, because he treats them with respect, and so much understanding. You know, because of what he’s been through himself.”
James continues solemnly, “When Remus was fourteen years old, he lost his mother in a car accident.”
Peter shakes his head with a pitiful groan.
“He was so young!” Sirius gasps. “That’s big-T trauma.”
“Remus was severely injured in the accident as well, and underwent multiple surgeries that left him with scars on his arms and legs that he’s self-conscious of to this day.”
“Poor thing,” sighs Peter.
James continues, “His dad lives in Wales, and they have a good relationship but aren’t particularly close.”
The interview with Tonks returns.
“Remus doesn’t have much of a social circle outside of work,” Tonks says, “and I know he’d like to. But if he's not working, he's reading. I think he feels safer experiencing the world through books rather than actually putting himself out there.”
Remus continues the thought himself, “Meeting new people is not something that comes easily to me. And dating… dating is terrifying. But I'm in my forties now, and, well…” His eyes drop to the floor. “I don't really want to be alone anymore.”
Remus looks back up from the floor and swallows, wincing at his own vulnerability. The camera lingers a little longer than it needs to. He shifts awkwardly in his seat.
When we finally cut back to the SUV, the energy is electric! James reaches the final page of the hero file.
“41 and still single–” James nudges Peter with his elbow. “Sounds like someone else we know, eh, Pete?”
Peter chuckles.
“Yes, yes.” Sirius's eye roll is not lost in the depths of the back seat. “I know, I'm tragic.”
“41 and still single,” James starts again, “Remus needs help finding the confidence to experience the world first-hand, meet new people, and hopefully find…” A smug smile appears on James’s face. “...a boyfriend.”
Sirius shoots forward and grabs the back of James’s seat. “He’s gay?!”
Peter chants, “One of us! One of us!”
“Our mission this week,” James declares, slapping the folder shut, “is to help Remus shed his sheep's clothing and unleash the wolf!”
He and Peter cheer, and Sirius lets out an unbridled “Awoooooo!”
One, two, three, got me feeling so free!
One, two, three, come and dance with me!
Do your thang! Come on, do your thang!
The generic, upbeat pop song plays over more black-and-white footage of the dancing Triple Threat, before a sweeping rainbow transition brings on a title card:
Day One
“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend.”
- Groucho Marx
The SUV pulls up to a mock-Tudor block of flats and the Triple Threat hop out and tiptoe sneakily toward the entrance, as if their hero-of-the-week is not fully expecting his celebrity visitors and their camera crew.
James presses the bell for Remus’s flat, and a timid “Hello?” crackles through the attached speaker.
Sirius and Peter huddle excitedly around James as he leans toward the intercom.
“Can you spare a minute for our lord and saviour Jesus Christ?” James says with a grin.
Peter smacks James’s arm. “What if he’s Jehovah’s?!”
Remus’s voice crackles through again, less timid this time. “Of course I do. That bastard owes me ten quid!”
Sirius and James exchange looks of surprised delight.
Peter’s jaw drops. “He’s funny!” He astutely observes.
With a loud bzzz, the door to the building unlocks, and the Triple Threat dash inside. One flight of stairs later, they’re pounding on the door to flat number twelve.
Slowly the door opens, and there stands the beanpole in brown himself, Remus Lupin. He looks just as he did in the intro footage, from the bird’s nest at the top of his head to his wool jumper and faded corduroy trousers. He’s not wearing shoes, and one big toe peeks out from a hole at the end of his sock. Despite the earlier wisecrack, he looks as nervous as he was in his talking head interview, smile hesitant and shoulders tense.
“Alright, alright,” he says meekly, opening the door wide and stepping aside. “Don’t frighten the neighbors.”
James leads the way in, wrapping Remus in a bear hug with a charming “It’s nice to meet you!”
Remus accepts the hug (no one says no to a hug from James Potter) and returns the polite greeting. Sirius and Peter follow with their own hugs and hellos, then James leads the group out of the entryway and into the flat proper.
Remus’s flat is simultaneously bare and cluttered. Lifeless and chaotic. The walls are off-white and completely devoid of decoration. The furniture is sparse, cheap, and worn. A square pine dining table with two clashing chestnut chairs separates the small kitchen from the moderately-sized living room, which is home to a grey sofa that’s seen better days (to put it lightly), a dark brown coffee table that James could split in half with a single karate chop, two IKEA bookcases stuffed well over capacity, and, tucked away in the corner, what appears to be a beautiful, but dusty, antique Victrola record cabinet.
What wouldn’t fit in the IKEA bookcases seems to have spilled out over every other surface in the flat. The sofa, coffee table, dining table, dining chairs, kitchen counters, and floor are all covered in books: well-loved paperbacks, brand new hard covers, ancient hard covers, textbooks, art books, all sorts of books. Peter immediately trips over a pile of them on his way in.
The Triple Threat make themselves at home. Peter starts opening drawers and cabinets in the kitchen. James strides across the living room, slides open the door to the balcony and sticks his head outside to check out the view. Sirius plops onto the sofa, pulls a book out from under his bum and starts to flip through it only to jump up again a moment later and disappear back into the entryway.
In a talking head interview Peter shares his thoughts. “For some reason, I thought Remus was going to be really type-A,” he says. “Maybe because he's a teacher? But… his flat is a shit show.”
James has a little more compassion in his interview. “It's immediately clear that Remus hasn't prioritized himself in a long time. Maybe ever.”
“I thought his picture was cute,” Sirius fawns in his interview. “The man is stunning. And, clearly, a big reader. That's very sexy.” He leans forward, resting his head in his hand and nibbling at the side of his pinkie. Then he shrugs. “I honestly don't know what we're doing here.”
James comes back in from the balcony and brings a supportive arm to Remus’s shoulders. “Quite the book collection you have, eh, Remus?”
Remus shrugs and chuckles self-consciously as he replies, “‘A room without books is like a body without a soul’, right?”
“Right, right…” James nods slowly. “How long have you lived here?”
“Going on five years now,” Remus says.
“Five years!” Peter exclaims, popping out from behind the refrigerator door. “Were you ever planning on moving in?”
“Is this all the furniture you’ve had for five years?” James asks, exuding genuine interest and empathy rather than judgement.
“Yeah,” Remus says somewhat defensively. “I’ve got what I need. Table for eating and working.” He gestures to the table. “Sofa for reading.” He nods to the sofa. “Bed.” He gestures with his other hand to a door they’ve yet to open on the opposite side of the living room, then shrugs. “What else–”
A thin metal coat hanger flies across the room and Remus ducks out of the way.
“No. Wire. Hangers. EVER!!” Sirius’s best Faye-Dunaway-as-Joan-Crawford resounds from where he’s half-buried in the coat closet.
“What about when you have people over?” James asks, unfazed.
“Well…” The hanger incident seems to have startled the defensiveness out of Remus’s tone. “I don’t really have people over. Tonks, sometimes, to work on a campaign. But that’s all.”
“Would you like to have people over?”
Remus sighs deeply and looks at his feet. “Yes.”
Peter appears from the kitchen carrying a ceramic mug and a page-a-day calendar. “Do you like dogs, Remus?” he asks.
Peter shows the items to camera. The mug is adorned with cartoon dog faces, and the calendar is called 365 Dogs. Today’s photo is a happy golden retriever lounging in a field of daisies.
“Have you got a dog?!” Sirius pops out of the coat closet and joins them in the living room. He’s wearing a bright blue bicycle helmet.
“No, I wish I did,” Remus says, taking the calendar from Peter and considering it. “But I put so much time into work, I’m afraid I wouldn't be good for a dog.” He does a double take at Sirius. “Is that my cycling helmet?”
“D’you work long hours?” Sirius asks, taking off the helmet and plopping it onto Peter’s head.
“Eight to four most days,” Remus says. “‘Til five on D&D days.”
“So, a normal eight-hour work day,” Peter says, fastening the helmet strap under his chin with a click.
“Erm, I guess so. Yeah.”
In a talking head, James speaks confidently into the camera. “Remus is a prime example of someone who doesn’t let himself have nice things, probably because he thinks he doesn’t deserve them.” James counts off on his fingers: “The furniture. The dog. New clothes. Yes, I saw that hole in your sock, Remus. Your toe has been staring at me.” He glares into the camera for a moment, then shudders.
When we return to the flat, James steps into the bathroom while Remus leads Sirius into the bedroom.
The bedroom is significantly tidier than the rest of the flat, but still looks horrible. The walls are painted baby pink, the floor is poorly carpeted in a hideous shade of mud brown, and the corners of it stick up against the furniture as if it were the last thing added to the room. The queen-sized bed (neatly made up in white sheets and a chocolate brown duvet) is nestled under an archway of built-in cabinets painted the same sickly pink as the walls. The wall opposite the bed features two sets of white double doors which means, by the grace of god, ample closet space.
Sirius launches himself onto the bed, bouncing when he lands. “So, this is where the magic happens,” he says, flipping his hair over his shoulder.
Remus snorts and scratches the back of his neck. “I would need magic to get anything to ‘happen’ in here.”
“Don’t talk like that about yourself,” Sirius chides. "You're an incredibly attractive man, Remus."
Remus noticeably blushes at the compliment, but Sirius just bounces onto his knees and starts opening the cabinet doors on the built-in as if what he said was the most obvious fact in the world.
“I’m guessing this is how the room was when you moved in? Or was the pink your choice?”
"Er, no." Remus shakes his head. “Definitely not my choice. I know it’s horrible, but I don’t know how I’d even begin to change it all.”
“Lucky your friend Tonks called us, then.” Having opened up all of the cabinet doors (behind every single one: books), Sirius sits back down on the bed to give Remus his full attention. “If you could dream up the most perfect, beautiful space – somewhere you can relax, where you can be your most authentic self – what would that look like?”
“Erm… gosh.” Remus scratches his neck again, then chuckles and gestures toward the book-filled cabinets. “Like a library, probably.”
“A library?” Sirius prompts him to expound.
Remus looks around the room as if its dismal pink walls might hold the answers. They apparently do, as he clarifies, “A dark, cozy library.”
“Mm, now we’re getting somewhere.” Sirius leans back on his elbows, dangling his feet off the bed and looking more like a teenager at a slumber party than a forty-year-old professional stylist meeting with a client. “What do you like about reading, Remus?” he asks.
Remus’s expression turns wistful. His shoulders relax and he tucks his hands loosely in his pockets. “Books can take you anywhere,” he says. “Teach you anything. I guess I like to… to be transported.” He looks at Sirius with a small smile, and Sirius gives him one right back.
James’s hand pops in from the hallway holding a bottle of 3-in-1 cleanser, and he sounds like a disappointed parent when he says, “I’d like to have a word with you, Remus.”
The bathroom might have been completely normal and tidy before the Triple Threat arrived. But now that James has gotten his hands on it, Remus’s toiletries are scattered everywhere: toothpaste, floss, lip balm, basic first aid items, and a worryingly large amount of plasters.
James leans against the side of the sink so Remus can simultaneously see him and his own reflection in the mirror.
“I see you use a combination shampoo, conditioner, and body wash,” James says, setting the bottle on the edge of the sink. “Can I touch your hair?”
“Er, sure.”
As James starts flicking his fingers through the brown cloud on Remus’s head, Remus eyes the multidirectional swoops and waves that James is sporting on his.
“Sorry,” Remus says, “but… you’re the hair person? I would have thought Sirius–”
“Sirius can’t do everything,” James interrupts, pausing his exploration of Remus’s scalp. “He has nice hair, sure, but who do you think tells him what products to use, hm?”
Remus squints. “Not Peter, then?”
“Very funny, Lupin.” James points mock-threateningly at Remus’s nose. “Watch your cheek or you might find yourself scheduled for a full-body wax.”
Remus laughs and James resumes combing his fingers through the long hair at Remus’s temples. He reveals a streak of silver on each side.
“You going grey a little?” James asks. “Is that why you keep it long?”
With a self-conscious grimace, Remus nods.
“Oh! And you have curls hiding under here!” James’s explorations reach the nape of Remus’s neck where, indeed, a few neat little spirals hide beneath the chaos. “You’ve let your lovely natural curls get all dried out! That’s why your conditioner should not also be soap, Remus.” James’s fingers migrate to Remus’s stubbly chin. “And how do we feel about the facial hair?”
“It makes me look… artsy?”
“Mm… it could,” James says, turning Remus’s head left and right, surveying him. “But Sirius can help you find other ways to look artsy, if you’d be open to trying a clean shave.”
“Erm, alright.”
“Yeah?”
With more certainty, Remus nods in James’s hands. “Yeah. What’s the point if I’m not willing to try something different, right?”
“That’s right!” James gives Remus a pat on both cheeks. “And if you don’t like it, it will always grow back. But I have a feeling you’ll like it.” He winks.
In the kitchen, Peter (still wearing the bicycle helmet) opens the old, off-white fridge and flourishes his hands toward it, revealing to the audience at home that it is completely empty save for a carton of milk and a couple of takeaway containers. He closes the fridge and the camera follows him to a plain white cupboard which is not filled with food or spices or spatulas as one might expect, but with books. Not even cookbooks, either, just regular books that don’t belong in a kitchen.
Remus enters, escorted by James who has him by the shoulders.
“How’s it going in here, Pete?” James asks.
“This man really takes his work home with him,” Peter says, shaking his head. “How do you eat, Remus? What do you eat? I have so many questions.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” James pats Remus on the shoulder, then disappears toward the bedroom.
“Erm, I usually just eat at school,” Remus says, resting a hand on the stained tile counter. “Whatever’s available at the canteen.”
Peter nods and sniffs the contents of one of the takeaway containers. Judging by the look of approval on his face, it’s still good. “You have all your meals there?”
“Just lunch. I don’t really eat breakfast,” Remus says, “I’m not much of a morning person so I’ll usually just have tea. Sometimes I’ll have a flapjack, and those are in here.” He opens a cabinet near his head to reveal a single box of packaged flapjacks and more books. “For dinner some nights I’ll order a curry, but to tell you the truth, I forget to eat a lot of the time. I’ll lose track of time grading papers, or working on a campaign for the club. Or reading. Usually reading.”
Murmuring can be heard from out of frame. While Peter and Remus continue talking, the camera swings around and zooms toward the bedroom, where Sirius and James appear to be in a heated discussion. There’s a pile of discarded wire hangers on the floor, and Remus’s collection of brown jumpers and beige trousers are scattered across the bed, save for one jumper, which Sirius is wearing.
“He owns nothing but wool, Sirius,” James hisses.
“It’s cozy!”
“It’s July!”
Sirius waves him off.
“What about all the books?” James presses. “They’re everywhere.”
Sirius crosses his arms. “What would you have me do, tell him to stop reading so much? It’s his job, James.”
A talking head of Sirius takes over, and there's a sparkle in his eye. “Truth is, I love Remus’s jumpers and corduroys. He has a strong personal style, and I encourage that. Besides–” He pulls a greige jumper from out of frame and rubs it against his cheek. “–they’re so soft.”
James’s talking head appears and he stares blankly at the camera for a moment. Then he sighs and says, “I think Sirius may have lost his mind.”
In the flat, the camera is getting closer to Sirius and James’s disagreement. James tugs at his hair in exasperation, somehow making it look cooler.
“I’m telling you,” Sirius says, “he’s perfect just the way he is!”
“No he isn’t,” James raises his voice. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be here! Oh–” He spots the camera and, also approaching the bedroom, Peter and Remus. James plasters on a toothy grin and pats Sirius on the cheek. “Get your shit together, okay, mate?” he says through gritted teeth. Then he makes himself comfortable on the bed amongst Remus’s scattered clothes.
Peter, still wearing the helmet, sits next to James as Sirius takes Remus by the shoulders and pulls him toward the closet.
“Remus! Lovely to see you,” he says. Then his eyes lose focus as he lets his hands indulge in the fabric on Remus’s arms, then on his chest. “So soft…”
James clears his throat.
Sirius pulls his hands away and claps them in front of himself. “Right! Wardrobe.” He flicks through the few articles of clothing that remain in the closet, but keeps his eyes on Remus. “You’re going out. You’re meeting new people. You’re going on a date, perhaps.” He wiggles his eyebrows at that. “What are you wearing?”
“Mm…” Remus looks down at his current earth-toned jumper and cords. “This? Any of these, really.”
“A classic look,” Sirius says, picking up one of the other jumpers and stroking it. “Can’t go wrong with dark academia.”
“Even in the middle of summer, Remus?” James chimes in.
Remus tugs the ends of his sleeves over his hands. “Er, yeah. I dunno, it’s comfortable.”
“You don’t get too hot when you cycle?” Peter asks. This seems to remind him of the helmet, so he takes it off and hands it to James. James, sensing an emotional moment coming on during which he would not like to be wearing a cycling helmet, simply sets it on the bed.
“Well, yeah, I definitely do,” Remus says, crossing one arm in front of himself.
He looks to the floor as if searching for his next words. James and Peter nod encouragingly, and Sirius sits at the edge of the bed to give Remus the floor.
“I’ve got, er, scars on my arms and legs,” he says after a moment. “From the car accident I was in when I was a kid. And, well, I guess I’m just afraid… people will stare at them. Or ask about them, and then I’ll have to tell them this whole tragic story. And I just don’t want that to be what people think of me.” He crosses the other arm over his chest, keeping his gaze trained on the floor.
“You have a lot of wonderful qualities about you, Remus,” James says gently. He sits up straight and pushes himself to the end of the bed. Remus looks up to meet his eye. “You’re an excellent teacher,” James continues, “you’re incredibly smart – I’m assuming, since you read so many books.” This gets a chuckle out of Remus. “I’ve only known you for about five minutes and I know you’re funny, and warm, and someone I like being around. I think if you put yourself out there, give people a chance to know you, they’re not going to see scars. They’re going to see what I’m seeing.”
Remus’s eyes get misty and he brings a hand up to cover his mouth.
The Triple Threat all stand, sensing a group hug coming on which will undoubtedly lead to the end of the segment. Sirius puts one arm around Remus, and the other around James. James puts an arm around Peter, and Peter puts an arm around Remus.
“Are you ready for some big changes this week, Remus?” Peter asks with encouraging enthusiasm.
Remus takes a deep breath, then with a slow shake of his head, says, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“We’ll take it!” James laughs.
“Give us a howl, Remus!” Sirius says, patting Remus’s chest.
“Sorry?”
“Yeah!” says Peter. “Together – on three! One!”
Sirius and James join in, “Two! Three!”
The Triple Threat howl to the ceiling! Remus lets out a surprised laugh, then, half-heartedly, joins in with his own little “Awooo…?”
Day Two
“A vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high.”
- Charlotte Brontë
The Queer Eye London loft is located on the second floor of a gorgeous red brick warehouse on St. John Street, between the welcoming, rainbow offices of Stonewall UK and a Pret A Manger.
In a kitchen of sleek black cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and seamless marble countertops, Peter chops colorful carrots and bell peppers on a natural wood cutting board.
“Remus struggles to take care of himself at a basic level,” he says in voiceover. “So I want to make cooking and eating easy for him to fit into his schedule. And if he learns to enjoy it in the process, that’s even better.”
In the loft’s sundrenched sitting room, James lounges on a contemporary sofa the color of sand, surrounded by leafy plants and reading (or pretending to read) The Velvet Rage.
In his voiceover, he says, “Remus has a lot to share with the world, he just has to take the leap. I want to help him take those necessary first steps out of his comfort zone – and look good doing it.”
In a spacious walk-in closet with glass doors and walls adorned with textural abstract art, Sirius browses through a rack of shirts and trousers in luxurious jewel tones.
“Do I think Remus needs to change? Not in the slightest,” he says in his voiceover. “But… I would be lying if I said I didn’t notice the state of disrepair his clothes and flat are in, and he deserves better than that. So this week, I’m going to help Remus live and feel like the beautiful, wonderful man he is.” After a pause, he adds, “Or else James will yell at me.”
It’s a gorgeous, sunny day when Remus strolls up to the vibrant graffitied walls of Redchurch Street. He is wearing his signature corduroys, but in place of a jumper is an olive green henley, long sleeves pushed up just under his elbows. He’s wearing shoes this time as well – basic beige sneakers that, like the rest of his wardrobe, are overdue to be replaced.
Sirius approaches from the other direction. He’s wearing a black short-sleeved work shirt with the sleeves rolled up even shorter to show off his biceps. The shirt’s buttons are open down to his sternum, revealing a gold lariat necklace adorned with a crescent moon and stars. He finishes the look with well-fitting black jeans that taper at the bottom over pointed-toe boots in shiny black leather.
Sirius is accompanied by what appears to be a black mop with a tongue.
Remus stops in his tracks. “Who is this?!” he coos, his pitch a full octave higher than his normal speaking voice.
“This is Padfoot,” Sirius says with a smile, squinting against the sun. “Thought he could tag along with us today.”
“Padfoot!” Remus echoes as the shaggy-looking thing sniffs his shoes, eagerly wagging his tail. “Can I pet him?”
“Of course!”
Remus drops to a dog-level squat and ruffles the bunches of long curls where the dog’s ears might be. Padfoot immediately hops up and places his front paws on Remus’s knees, and when his pink tongue shoots out, Remus turns his face just in time to dodge a wet kiss on the mouth.
Sirius laughs, “He likes you!”
“I’m sure he likes everyone,” says Remus.
“Well, yes, you got him there.” Sirius gives Padfoot’s lead a gentle tug and the pup returns all four paws to the pavement. “Shall we go inside?”
“Is he allowed in?” Remus asks, giving Padfoot a final pat on the head.
“This is Netflix, baby,” Sirius says with a smirk. “We can do whatever we want.”
Sirius turns toward the shop, taking Padfoot with him, but Remus remains squatted in the middle of the pavement.
“Erm…” he says with a grimace. “I’ve made a mistake.”
Sirius turns back around and stifles a laugh. “Need some help?” He reaches his free hand to Remus, who takes it and, with a grunt and a couple of audible creaks and cracks, stands.
“Cheers,” Remus says bashfully.
Neither of them seems to notice that it takes slightly too long for their hands to finally break apart.
The interior of the shop is bright and warm. Men’s attire in classic neutrals and soothing earth tones are arranged neatly on minimalist, light wood displays.
“For what it’s worth,” Sirius says with a smile, “I love your jumpers.”
Remus looks at him sceptically. “Really?”
“Really. But…” His smile shifts slightly into something more pinched and pitying. “I did notice they all have holes in them. And are fading. And, while it is an improvement over wool, this–” Sirius brings a hand to Remus’s arm and tugs at the sleeve of his henley. “–is still a very warm option in the dead of summer.”
Remus nods.
In a talking head, Sirius explains, “I’ve brought Remus to Sunspel because, while they’re best known for their knitwear made from materials sourced right here in the UK, they have a little bit of everything. So I thought it would be a great place to get him some new items that are going to last a long time, and some options that will be a little more comfortable in warmer weather. And, of course, a few more jumpers.”
In the shop, Sirius opens his arms wide, gesturing toward the racks and shelves. “Have a look around, pull anything that you like, and I’m going to put some outfits together for you as well. Does that sound okay?”
“Let’s do it.”
Padfoot barks encouragingly.
When Remus steps out of the fitting room for the first time, he’s wearing an expensive white t-shirt, crisp khakis, and a coffee-brown twill jacket. He stands in front of the full-length mirror and does a couple of pivots to check himself out.
“This first look is great for everyday,” Sirius says, stepping away from where Padfoot has splooted on the floor to join Remus at the mirror and straighten the jacket’s lapel. “I love the jacket because it’s lightweight, so it’s not going to be too warm, and the brown twill goes with the whole ‘sexy teacher’ look you have going on.”
Remus snorts. “I hardly think my look is ‘sexy.’”
Sirius steps back to cross his arms and look pointedly at Remus. “You’ll need to stop doubting yourself so much if you want to have any success at Friday's big event.”
“Ah, right.” Remus tugs nervously at the jacket. “Speed dating.”
“You don’t sound very excited!”
“Well, no, I’m terrified!”
“What are you afraid of?” Sirius asks, leaning against a nearby rack of clothes.
Remus crosses his arms protectively in front of himself. “I’m afraid I’ll be rejected by every person there and die alone and ashamed.”
“You won’t,” Sirius laughs. “Trust me.” He hooks a hand around Remus’s elbow and guides him back toward the fitting rooms. “I put together an outfit that I thought might be good for the event. Would you like to try it?”
Remus takes a deep breath. “Sure.”
When Remus steps out of the fitting room the second time, it’s clear from the glimmer in Sirius’s eye that he loves this outfit: an airy knit polo the color of sand with a subtle, light blue zig-zag pattern, and a pair of cloudy blue pleated trousers. The warm colors bring out the golden undertones in Remus’s skin and hair, and he looks like he’s glowing.
When Remus steps in front of the mirror, he smiles immediately. “Oh, wow,” he says.
“You like it?” Sirius steps up behind him and makes a miniscule adjustment to the sleeves before stepping back again.
“I look like…” Remus looks his reflection up and down. “...a day at the beach.”
Sirius beams.
“I don't normally wear blue.”
“It looks lovely on you. And look at your body language, Remus.”
As Remus looks at his own reflection, he’s holding his head high, his shoulders are relaxed, and his hands are tucked casually in the pockets of the trousers. He looks taller than he did when they started.
“You feel good, don’t you?” Sirius asks. “In short sleeves, no less.”
“Well,” Remus’s hands go up instinctively to his elbows for a second before dropping again. “It’s a really nice outfit.”
“It’s a fine outfit.” Sirius rolls his eyes then holds both hands out toward Remus. “You look incredible in it.”
“You probably say that to everyone,” Remus says, turning to look pointedly at Sirius.
“Only when it’s true.” Sirius steps forward again and brushes some lint off Remus’s shoulder. “Which it often is, because I’m very good at my job.”
Remus chuckles and shakes his head.
“Are you up for another challenge?” Sirius asks, raising an eyebrow.
When Remus comes out of the fitting room in outfit number three, the tension in his shoulders has returned. He’s wearing a natural linen long-sleeved dress shirt and olive green shorts that just reach his knees, showing off his long, toned cyclist’s calves. A straight, pale scar runs vertically down his right knee, and a parallel one cuts through the light brown hair on his left shin. To anyone but Remus, they’re unremarkable.
Sirius watches patiently as Remus wrings his hands, still not facing the mirror. Padfoot gets up from his place on the floor to sit by Remus’s side.
“How are we feeling?” Sirius asks gently, resting his chin on his fist.
Remus shifts his weight, then looks meekly at Sirius. “What do you think?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
Finally Remus turns toward the mirror. His eyes linger on the reflection of his legs as he takes a deep breath. “I like the shirt.”
“Good.”
“The shorts are going to take some getting used to.”
“That’s okay,” Sirius says. “And I’m not here to make you do something you’re not comfortable with.”
“I know,” Remus says quickly, as if to rid Sirius of any possible guilt. “But I… I want to try.”
They stay just like that for a moment, Remus looking at his reflection with uncertainty, Sirius looking at Remus expectantly, and Padfoot looking at Remus hoping for a scratch behind the ears.
Then Sirius says, “I like this outfit, but it’s missing something.”
He steps up to Remus and brandishes a fuzzy cardigan the same warm, honey brown as Remus’s hair.
“You can’t go wrong with layering,” Sirius says as Remus pulls on the cardigan over his linen shirt. “And rich textures are great because they make people want to touch you.” Sirius wiggles his eyebrows flirtatiously and runs a hand over Remus’s fuzz-covered arm (purely as a demonstration).
Remus gives him a bashful smile through the mirror.
Pulling his hand away and getting back to business, Sirius asks, “Shorts aside, do you think we’re narrowing in on some items you’d want to add to your rotation?”
“Yeah,” Remus says, running his fingers up and down where Sirius’s hand had just been. “I think so.”
Sirius picks up Padfoot’s lead, and the dog gets up, reaches his front arms out and arches his back in a deep downward-dog.
“Good stretch!” Sirius and Remus praise him simultaneously. They lock eyes about it, Sirius grinning and Remus chuckling in surprise.
Once Remus has changed back into his own henley and corduroys (which seem particularly shabby now in comparison to the clothes he tried on), they head to the exit.
“I think that went really well!” Sirius says as they step into the sun. “Thank you for being open to trying some new things today.”
Remus smiles. “Thanks for making it not so scary.”
They hop into the SUV to head to their next errand, Remus in the passenger seat, Sirius in the driver’s, and Padfoot in back, hanging his head out the open window.
“So, you’re in charge of fashion and interior design?” Remus asks.
“America’s Fab Five could never, right?” Sirius shoots Remus a grin and a wink.
“I can’t wrap my head around either,” Remus says with a slow shake of his head. “I can’t imagine how you do both.”
“Well…” Sirius takes one hand off the steering wheel to rub his jaw pensively. “It’s like what you said about books. They transport you, right? That’s how I feel about design.”
“How do you mean?”
“When I help someone redo their home, or their office, or express themselves through their clothes, I’m helping them build a new world for themselves. A world they can be happy in. That… that doesn’t make them want to escape.”
Sirius takes his eyes off the road for just long enough to glance at Remus, who gives him a small, appreciative smile.
When they arrive at their destination, Remus, Sirius and Padfoot are joined by the other two members of the Triple Threat. James is in his signature jeans and slightly-cropped tee, this one reading “Support Live Music. Hire Live Musicians.” His glasses are round and electric blue. Peter looks as summery as ever in a hummingbird-print shirt and grey chinos.
The group steps through an unassuming shop front into a bohemian labyrinth that is more secret garden than furniture store. A narrow walking path winds through restored mid-century sofas in warm greens and browns, classic upholstered ottomans, and natural wooden dining tables stacked with contemporary chairs and stools. The walls are covered in sculptural mirrors and antique paintings, and lined with wicker baskets piled high with embroidered throw pillows and woven blankets. Vases, potted plants, end tables, and decorative thingamajigs leave no corner empty.
As James and Peter make themselves at home just as they did at Remus's flat, testing seats, squeezing cushions and sniffing scented candles, Remus looks around in awe.
“This place is amazing,” he fawns. “Could I just live here?”
“Sorry,” Sirius says with a smirk, “we’ve already started tearing your flat apart. No going back now. But I’m glad to hear I picked right!”
“Definitely.”
In a talking head, Sirius explains, “We took Remus to my favorite second-hand home goods shop in London, After Noah, to find some one-of-a-kind pieces that will give his flat the homely, cozy feeling he’s looking for. When Remus comes back to his flat at the end of the week, I want him to feel like he’s stepping into a world made just for him.”
“Look, Remus!” Peter calls from deeper in the shop. “I think you need this.”
He holds up a life-sized wooden statue of a bulldog which has Padfoot immediately barking.
“I think that’s a no,” Remus laughs. “Thanks, Peter.”
The four gentlemen and Padfoot make their way through the shop, each member of the Triple Threat presenting Remus with pieces of furniture and decor which he reacts to with smiley nods, uncertain shrugs, or adamant head-shakes.
When the montage comes to a close, Remus plops down into a wide, brown leather armchair, spent from all of the day’s shopping. As soon as his arms hit the rests, he looks down at them in surprise and runs his hands along the material.
“What’d you find there?” James asks, pulling himself away from where he was finger-combing his hair in one of the wall mirrors.
“I think this might just be the perfect reading chair,” Remus mutters, still appraising the seat. He twists sideways to lean his back against one of the arms and drape his legs over the other. “The leather’s just worn enough to be soft, and…”
He reaches over the back of the seat to find the hand-written price tag. His eyes widen at the sight of it and he pops back up onto his feet just as Sirius arrives with Padfoot and Peter in tow.
“I think we got everything we came for,” Sirius says with a conclusive clap of his hands. “Have you had enough shopping for the day?”
“I think I’ve had enough shopping for a lifetime,” Remus replies with an exasperated smile.
James gives him a pat on the back, and the jaunty group heads toward the exit.
I’m firing up on that runway,
I know we’re gonna get there someday.
But we don’t need no ready, steady, go, no!
The slo-mo footage this time features Peter twirling a whisk in the air and catching it. James pops into frame, grabs the whisk from Peter’s hand and mimes licking batter off of it, eliciting an embarrassed laugh from Peter.
Day Three
“Life is about growth, struggle, and trying to expand your love of self and of other people.”
- Alice Walker
We’re back in the QE Loft, but this time Peter is joined in the kitchen by Remus himself! Peter is rocking a sage green shirt and khakis while Remus, in the comfort of the loft’s air con, is back in his signature jumper and cords.
A rainbow of ingredients is spread neatly across the black and grey counters. Orange sweet potatoes, red bell peppers, bright green limes, pink chicken thighs, and little dishes of spices the color of fire all surround a high-tech slow cooker.
“So, I’ve gathered you’re not much of a chef,” Peter says.
“That is correct,” Remus confirms, eyeing the daunting array of cooking supplies in front of him.
“You mentioned you like curry, so the recipe I'm going to show you today is an easy chicken curry with rice and veg. This is something you can spend a little bit of time on and then not have to worry about cooking for the rest of the week.”
“Sounds great,” Remus says, clearly excited at the prospect of not cooking.
“I’m going to have you start by dicing our sweet potatoes and slicing our bell peppers,” Peter says, sliding a cutting board and beautiful, shiny chef’s knife in front of Remus.
As Remus begins peeling and chopping, he seems much more comfortable with the task than most of QE’s inexperienced heroes. He keeps his knuckles over his fingertips where he holds the produce, and grips the heel of the knife’s blade along with the handle, like a true professional.
“I thought you didn’t cook,” Peter says, rinsing a bowl of rice in the sink and jutting his chin toward Remus's steadily working hands.
“I don’t,” Remus confirms. “But I’ve read cookbooks, so I know what to do in theory.”
Peter pauses and shuts off the tap. “You’ve read cookbooks? Like… for fun, you’re just reading recipes?”
Remus chuckles self-consciously. “Not recipes as much as, like, techniques and food science and things like that. But… sometimes recipes.” He uses the flat of the blade to push aside the diced potato before reaching for a bell pepper. “Or when the author writes about the personal story behind a recipe, I’ll read that.”
Peter's jaw drops. “You're the only person in the entire world who has read those.”
“They're nice!” Remus laughs.
“I'm sure they are. I'm also sure that you're a sociopath.”
In a talking head interview, Peter’s eyes are wide as saucers. “Remus shocked me when he said he reads cookbooks. I mean, who reads cookbooks if they’re not going to cook anything?! But,” he shrugs, “that just means he has a head start. Today I’m taking our little bookworm from the page to the pan.”
When Remus finishes with the vegetables, Peter walks him through each of the spices so he can season the chicken to his taste (to Peter’s surprised delight, he doesn't shy away from heat), then they brown the meat on the stove for flavor (a step which Peter explains can be skipped on those really lazy days).
“How has dating been going for you lately?” Peter asks over the sizzle of the frying pan.
“Um…” Remus looks down at the counter, nervously reaching a hand behind his neck.
“Or has it been going?”
“It has, a little,” Remus says, watching Peter flip the chicken in the pan. “I was trying some of the apps for a while–”
“Oh yeah? I know a lot of couples who’ve met online.”
“Yeah… I dunno.” Remus shrugs and prods at the chopped vegetables. “Maybe I’m just too old-fashioned, but I’d rather meet people in person. I just… don’t really know how to do that, either.”
“It can be tough to put yourself out there,” Peter says, generously. “But I know James’s got something up his sleeve that will hopefully make it a little easier. I think these are nicely browned now!” He turns off the hob and takes the pan off the heat.
They layer all of their ingredients into the slow cooker and set the timer for four hours.
“Set it and forget it! That’s the beauty of the slow cooker,” Peter explains. “We’re going to let this cook, and then we’ll catch up again after your next errand with the boys.”
A short pop music sting accompanies yet another slo-mo Triple Threat transition. In this one, James wields a hairdryer at Sirius, who whips his hair glamorously in the blast of air.
And then, Remus is walking into a salon. But not just any salon – this salon is boldly decorated in bright pink, teal, and yellow, and the busy stylists rock alternative hairdos in all colors of the rainbow.
Remus finds James and Sirius posted up at one of the styling chairs. James’s wild hair looks particularly swoopy, his glasses are a sophisticated horn-rimmed shape in red and gold, and his graphic tee just says “NICE.” Sirius has his hair pulled up in a messy bun with a decorative pin stuck through it, and he's wearing a sheer black long-sleeved top with distressed white stars spread across the front. The top splits at his sternum and falls open, revealing his belly button and granting the tiniest glimpse at the tattoos on his midriff. It's a top that says “Psst… come slip your hand up under here.”
“Welcome to Not Another Salon!” James cheers, beckoning Remus over.
“Isn’t it cute here?” Sirius fawns, giving Remus a squeeze on the shoulders as he plops into the chair.
A Sirius talking-head pops up. “While James takes care of Remus’s hair today, I’ll be giving him a relaxing manicure for a little self-care moment. We are giving teamwork to bring this makeover to life!”
James follows. “Sirius is supposed to be helping the building crew back at Remus’s flat,” he says. “But he insisted on being here, so.” He punctuates the statement with a shrug.
In the salon, Sirius sets up his manicure station while James fastens a salon cape around Remus, then stands behind him, playing with Remus’s frizzy locks.
“When’s the last time you looked in the mirror and thought, ‘Cute’?” James asks.
“I don’t spend a lot of time looking in the mirror,” Remus says, peering at his reflection. “Probably… because I know I won’t like what I see.”
James nods empathetically. “Safe to say you’re ready for a change, then?”
“I think if you can make that look good,” Remus says, nodding toward James’s stylishly untamed coif, “I can trust you to make me look good.”
James scoffs and brings a scandalized hand to his heart.
Sirius cackles. “I’ve tried, Remus! But no matter what I say, he just won’t tame that wild mane of his.”
“Stop bullying me,” James pouts. “It’s my look!”
After a shampoo that already starts to bring a little life back into Remus’s hair, James is working his magic with a comb and scissors, and Sirius, sitting in a stool to the side of the salon chair, holds Remus’s hands delicately in his own. The slow press of his thumbs is almost reverent as he massages moisturizer between Remus’s knuckles and down his lovely long fingers.
“That’s really nice,” Remus murmurs, eyes closed in relaxation.
“Yeah?” Sirius looks up at him eagerly. “Have you ever had a manicure before, Remus?”
“Mm-mm,” Remus hums a ‘no’ as James tilts his head down to trim the hair at the top of his neck.
“You should start going once a month, if you can,” Sirius says, wrapping Remus’s hands in a soft, warm towel. “Especially with how much time you spend handling books. All that paper can be really drying.”
After a coat of clear polish, a proper shave, and a few minutes under the diffuser attachment on the hairdryer, Remus’s new look is ready for its big reveal.
James and Sirius buzz with excitement in front of Remus, whose back is turned to the mirror.
“Ready to see the new and improved Remus Lupin?” James asks with a wide grin.
“Ready,” Remus says with only a slightly apprehensive nod.
With a flourish, Sirius pulls off the cape and James spins Remus’s chair around to face the mirror.
When Remus meets his reflection, his eyes go wide and he takes in the tiniest little gasp. He looks handsome as hell! The clean shave draws attention to his gorgeous bone structure, and his hair has actual shape: short (but not too short) along the sides and back, revealing the distinguished grey coming in at his temples, and a little longer on top, a natural flow of waves and loose curls. His gold- and silver-dappled hair has been revitalized by the fresh cut, and he is simply beaming.
“Wow,” he finally exhales.
“Oh! One more thing,” James says, reaching for a silver spray bottle. “This is sea salt. You can put it in when your hair is still a little damp and it’s going to give a really nice texture to those curls.” He sprays a mist all over Remus’s head, then steps back again. “Now go ahead and run your fingers through it a bit.”
“Or let someone else run their fingers through it,” Sirius says under his breath with a smirk.
“Wow,” Remus says again, looping a couple curls around his fingers. “I look…”
“Handsome,” James finishes at the same time Sirius says “Sexy!”
“And the grey actually looks good!” Remus says, lips curling into an astonished smile. He runs his palms down his smooth jaw next. “Ooh, my hands are so soft.”
Remus can’t stop smiling at himself, and as he continues to run his hands along his newly cropped hair and shaved face, his eyes begin to sparkle with misty emotion. Then, he turns to James.
“Thank you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Can I… Can I hug you?”
“Of course you can!” James laughs, pulling Remus in for a bear hug as Sirius looks on, a giddy smile squished between his palms.
In another talking head, James smiles triumphantly as he says, “Look out, world! Remus is bringing main character energy now!”
And then, the snazzy new Remus is in the passenger seat of the SUV once again, with James behind the wheel and Sirius absent, presumably off doing his actual job as an interior decorator.
“Alright Remus,” James says, “our last activity for today is something to get you more comfortable putting yourself out there and meeting new people.”
“Oh, goodness. Alright.” Remus rubs his palms nervously down his corduroy thighs.
“I think I know the answer to this, but, do you go to the library much?”
Remus chuckles. “Yes.”
“Have you ever been to one of their social events?”
“I’ve seen signs for them but I’ve never gone to one, no.”
“Well,” James says with a smirk, “that changes today.”
When James pulls the SUV into a parking space in front of Bethnal Green Gardens, Peter is already there waiting, a large shopping bag in each hand.
“Hiya, lads!” he calls as James and Remus step out of the car. His jaw drops when his eyes land on Remus. “Bloody hell, look at you, Remus! Love the hair!”
“Thank you,” Remus says with a bashful smile as James playfully ruffles his curls.
Then, James takes one of the shopping bags off of Peter’s hands and explains, “Today, Remus, we are joining your local Queer Book Club! And we’re going to share the delicious curry you and Pete made earlier!”
“We are?!” Remus exclaims, following James and Peter up the path toward the library. “What if it’s terrible? It’s the first thing I’ve ever cooked!”
Peter shakes his head. “Do you think I would let you make something terrible?”
Once inside the library – which is big and old and beautiful – they head to a little reading room off the main thoroughfare of shelves, where a dozen plastic chairs are set up in a circle. Peter and James set the bags down on a folding table underneath a bright bay window and the three gentlemen begin pulling out plates, napkins, and cutlery, followed by two large serving bowls: rice and Remus's finished curry.
When they finish arranging everything on the table, the three of them help themselves to the first tastes of curry. Judging by their faces and the yummy-noises James is making, it turned out delicious!
“I could definitely get used to eating this,” Remus says through a mouthful.
“Right?!” Peter says through his own bite. “And wasn't it easy to make?”
Remus nods and shovels another scoop of rice into his mouth.
When their little paper bowls are empty, Peter gives Remus and James a jovial pat on their backs. “Alright, I’m off to stock Remus’s new kitchen! Have fun, fellas!”
As Peter makes his way out of the room, he passes a couple of new faces coming in – members of the book club! They’re led by a lovely young lady with gorgeous red hair.
“You must be Lily!” James strides over and shakes hands with the red-haired woman. “I'm James, we spoke over the phone!”
Lily greets him with a big smile. “Yes, James, hi!”
“This is my friend Remus.” James ushers Remus over, and Remus gives Lily a timid wave and a “Hellooo.”
“Thank you for joining us, Remus!” Lily says, still smiling.
“Thank you… for… being joined?” Remus winces at himself, but Lily seems unbothered by his awkwardness.
As more readers flood into the room, Remus posts himself at the table, serving out curry and rice to any interested parties.
“What's on the menu?” One particularly handsome man asks.
“Chicken curry with, erm, carrots and…” Remus peers into the dish to jog his memory. “...sweet potatoes and peppers…and things like that.”
“Sounds great, I love a curry!” The man smiles, revealing a pair of deep dimples.
“It’s got coconut milk in it so, if you're allergic, you know… don't eat it.”
The handsome man chuckles, then extends his hand. “I'm David, by the way.”
“David,” Remus repeats with a polite smile, shaking David's hand. “I'm Remus. Nice to meet you.”
James beams in a talking head interview. “Remus is a natural charmer,” he says. “Literally the only reason he doesn't have more friends is because he hasn't gone anywhere where he can meet them!”
With all the participants now sitting in the circle of chairs, Remus and James included, Lily begins the meeting.
“As most of you know, this week's a little different because we're reading the works of Sappho, and almost all of us have different versions.” A few folks chuckle at that. “So one of the things I know we wanted to talk about is the translations and interpretations, especially in regards to queer erasure.” She turns to Remus. “Have you read any Sappho, Remus?”
“Some,” Remus says, “but not enough to speak on it.”
“No worries,” Lily says.
“Yeah, our conversations tend to stray quite a bit anyway,” David adds, and more than a few folks chuckle at that.
Another talking head of James spares us from the nerd chatter. “I'm really surprised Remus has never been part of a book club before. I think this is going to be a perfect way for him to meet people with similar interests. To make some new friends and maybe meet someone who could be…” he wiggles his eyebrows, “more than friends.”
After the meeting, James and Remus emerge from the library, the shopping bags noticeably lighter in their hands.
“You introduced yourself to a lot of new people back there!” James praises, nudging Remus lightly with his elbow.
“Yeah,” Remus says with a bashfully victorious smile. “It was really nice to talk about literature with adults for a change.”
“I bet!” James laughs. Then he asks, “And how about that David?”
Remus's smile turns into a look of mild confusion. “How about him?”
“He's cute!!”
“Oh! Oh, I suppose so.” Remus shrugs indifferently.
“Huh.” James looks slightly disappointed, then gives Remus an indifferent shrug of his own. “Alright, not your type, then.”
They load the bags and then themselves into the SUV.
“Well, hopefully someone will catch your fancy on Friday!” James says with a grin as he buckles himself in.
Remus looks out the window. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Day Four
“The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”
- Maya Angelou
Sirius and James rush around putting the final touches on Remus's made-over flat – adjusting a picture frame here, fluffing a throw pillow there – but the camera angle remains tight, allowing us only the tiniest glimpses at organized shelves and cozy upholstery before the big reveal.
The SUV pulls up in front of the block of flats, and out step Peter and Remus (his new haircut styled nicely, but still donning old cords and a faded jumper) just as James and Sirius appear at the front door, cheering “They're here!” and “Welcome home!”
When Remus reaches the front door, Sirius grabs his hand and yanks him inside, taking the stairs two-at-a-time and leaving Peter and James jogging to keep up.
“Go ahead,” Sirius says when they arrive in front of flat number twelve.
With a deep breath, Remus turns the knob.
The first thing we see is the narrow entry hallway, almost unrecognizable under a new coat of deep mocha paint. A small, antique-looking wooden table sits at the end, a stoneware dish and vase of dried flowers perched on top. Above the table hangs an oil painting of a grey castle surrounded by forest and fog, framed in gilded wood.
“It’s…” Remus exhales, stepping forward, eyes trained on the painting. “It’s beautiful.”
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, love.” Sirius hooks his arm around Remus’s elbow and guides him past the painting into the main living space. We’re hit with it all at once, and it’s breathtaking.
To the right, the sitting area has been transformed into a sanctuary of dark academia. A plush, sage-green velvet sofa is piled high with textured pillows in burgundy and cream. The far wall hosts an enormous mahogany bookcase, stocked lovingly with Remus’s books, picture frames, and a couple of small potted plants. The coffee table has been replaced by a much nicer one and decorated neatly with yet another plant and a couple of curated coffee table books (one of them is simply titled: Dogs). A Persian rug in oxblood and gold pulls the room together and in the corner, between the bookcase and the window, is a worn-just-right, brown leather armchair. The perfect reading chair.
All of the walls are the same warm, dark chocolate brown as the entryway except for one to the immediate left, whose moody floral wallpaper (reminiscent of the dried plants in the entryway) draws the eye right to the freshly dusted and polished Victrola.
“Oh–” Remus covers his face with one hand and rests the other on top of the Victrola as his shoulders begin to shake.
The Triple Threat immediately surround him: James with a strong hand on his right shoulder, Peter patting his back from behind, and Sirius in front, wringing his hands and watching Remus expectantly, not crowding him.
After a moment, Remus takes a deep breath, and drops his hand from his face.
“This was my mother’s, you know,” he says, looking at the Victrola.
“It was your mother's?!” Sirius gasps.
“Why didn't you tell us?” James chides.
“Good thing we put it in such a nice spot,” says Peter.
They give Remus another moment to take it all in.
Then he says, “It’s perfect.” He looks at Sirius with deep gratitude, and Sirius seems to twinkle back at him.
They go room by room, giving Remus the grand tour of his new home.
Around the corner from the living room, the dining room (once home to just a small, sad table and two chairs) has been brought to life with furniture enough for six and yet another bookcase. Just outside the sliding glass door, the previously empty balcony has been furnished with a little table and two chairs of its own.
Through the dining room is the kitchen, where the old appliances have been replaced by gorgeous stainless steel, and the once-empty counters are now artfully populated with everything Remus needs to start making himself actual meals. And, now that Remus’s books have found homes on proper bookshelves, we can assume the cabinets are more appropriately stocked, as well.
When Remus gets emotional again, the Triple Threat gather around him, offering consoling hugs and words of encouragement and getting emotional themselves, because no matter how many lives they change, it never gets old.
“C’mon,” James says once the flow of tears has slowed. “There's still one more room to see!”
Across the living room, the bedroom door blends seamlessly with the rest of the flat with a new coat of deep brown paint and a shiny brass knob.
When Remus opens the door, it's like stepping into the dictionary definition of “cozy.” The walls and built-in have been painted a moody green-blue the color of a stormy sea. The cabinet doors have been removed so all of Remus’s beautiful books can be proudly displayed and browsed. The horrible carpet has been ripped out, revealing classic dark wood flooring which has been topped with another Persian rug.
The bed is made with grey stonewash linens and piled with inviting throw pillows and blankets: cream cashmere with fringe, terracotta velvet, waffle weave in the same color as the walls. You just want to jump right in and curl up in it all! And Remus does, to smiles and laughs from the Triple Threat.
Then he picks up one of the pillows, which matches the color of the sheets but is significantly shinier.
“Why are the pillowcases shiny?” he asks.
“They’re silk,” Sirius says. “It’s better for your hair.” He runs a hand through his own long locks.
Remus nods, then takes a wistful look around his new room.
“Wow,” he sighs. “This is just… beyond anything I was expecting.”
James grins. “Bet you’d like to have someone over now, hm?”
“Yeah,” Remus chuckles. “I would definitely not be ashamed to bring someone here now.”
“Speaking of,” says Sirius, “let’s talk about tomorrow night. Specifically, your outfit options!”
James and Peter file out and Remus scooches to the foot of the bed to face the closet and give Sirius his full attention.
“As you know,” Sirius says, “I did not come here to get rid of everything you hold dear.” He opens up both sets of closet doors, revealing Remus’s now well-stocked and neatly-organized wardrobe. He reaches in and pulls out a stack of familiar patterned jumpers in faded browns and greys. “I’ve taken your jumpers to the tailor to have their holes darned and grant them a second chance at life.”
“Oh, wow! Thank you,” Remus says, looking surprised and sounding touched.
“Of course, love. A little wear and tear doesn’t mean you have to throw away a perfectly good piece of clothing.” Sirius starts to pivot back to the closet but stops part way and turns back to Remus. “But don’t hang them. Keep them folded on a shelf or in a drawer. Hangers stretch the wool out of shape.”
“Yes sir!” Remus says with a curt nod.
There’s a cheeky little smirk on Sirius’s face when he turns to put the jumpers away. He gestures to some hanging clothes in warm earth tones. “We’ve also gotten you some brand new items to add to the rotation. Some of those cute knit tops…” He pulls out a breezy shirt and trousers. “Some long sleeves in breathable linen for when it’s hot, but you’re feeling a little self-conch and want to cover up.”
“You know,” Remus mutters, looking down at his hands and fiddling with his thumbnail. “When I found out I was going to be doing this, I was pretty scared. I thought you all were going to come in and tell me I have to change everything about myself. Because, well, I thought I needed to change everything about myself. Obviously there has been a lot of change.” He chuckles. “But it’s just been to help me be myself. Only, in a way that's better for me. And I… I really appreciate that.”
“I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else, Remus,” Sirius says softly. He quickly rehangs the clothes he’s holding then sits down on the bed next to Remus. He clasps his hands in his lap and looks a bit nervous when he says, “You’re beautiful.”
Remus sniffs out a wry laugh. “No one’s ever said that to me before.” Then he looks up at Sirius with a shy smile. “Certainly no one like you.”
Sirius moves like he might reach over and take Remus’s hand, but then a raucous chant floods in from the other room.
“FASHION SHOW! FASHION SHOW! FASHION SHOW!”
James and Peter are tired of waiting.
Sirius pulls his hand back and smacks his knees conclusively, then gives Remus a smirk. “You heard them.”
Sirius joins the others in the living room, where James is sprawled luxuriously at one end of the sofa while Peter cuddles a cable knit throw pillow to his chest at the other. Sirius leans his hip against the armrest next to James.
“You ready for the first look, boys?” he asks, and receives cheers and claps in reply.
A moment later, Remus emerges from the bedroom with a noticeable swag in his step. No longer in his ratty winter jumper and corduroys, he’s now wearing a gauzy beige polo and brown slacks that drape beautifully down his long legs to a brand new pair of suede trainers. You can’t miss the smile on his face. He’s feeling himself! And Peter and James go wild for it.
“Ow-ow! Looking sharp!”
“Give us a spin!”
Remus obliges.
Sirius hops up from his perch against the sofa to make miniscule adjustments to the shirt’s collar. “This look is work, it’s date, it’s library,” he narrates. “It’s really versatile.”
“It’s a little bit Mad Men on vacation, isn’t it?” Peter comments as Remus struts back and forth through his living room.
“Yeah,” James nods. “Retro. Timeless.”
Remus looks down at himself proudly. “I can see myself reading under an oak tree in the park wearing this.”
“Ready for another?” Sirius asks the group with an eager smile.
James and Peter clap and cheer once again.
“Let’s go!”
“What else you got?!”
With a jaunty little pivot, Remus disappears back into his bedroom.
James glances at his phone. His eyes go wide and he smacks a hand on the sofa. In a stage whisper he says, “They’re here! They’re here!”
“I’ll go get ‘em!” Peter stage-whispers back, then he launches himself off the sofa and disappears into the entryway.
He’s back in just a moment, accompanied by none other than Tonks! Tonks looks super cool in an oversized field jacket and jeans, their cropped hair now a vibrant shade of purple. They are agape and agog at the flat as they greet James and Sirius with warm hugs.
“This place is incredible,” they whisper, still looking around wide-eyed. “It’s so Remus.”
James and Peter return to their seats and usher Tonks to squish between them.
As Sirius returns to his position against the sofa’s arm he doesn’t take his eyes off Tonks. “Have we met before, Tonks?” he whispers.
“Hm?” They cock their head at him.
“You seem… familiar, somehow. Have we met? Do I know your mother?”
There isn’t time to discuss further as Remus emerges once again, arms outstretched and smile wide, wearing a nature-inspired graphic tee, khaki slacks, and the brown twill jacket from his shopping excursion. His eyes land on Tonks and he immediately covers his smile and whips back around with a surprised *BLEEP!*
“Surprise!” The Triple Threat cheer as Tonks laughs.
“Tonks!” Remus exclaims, turning to face his friend again. He clambers around the coffee table and envelops them in a hug.
“You’re hugging me!” they say with delight. “You never hug me!”
“That can’t be true,” Remus says as he pulls away. “Can it?”
“Your hair!” Tonks exclaims, still holding excitedly onto Remus’s forearms. “You look great!”
“I love this look, too,” James adds, indicating the outfit.
“Casual and cool, right?” Sirius says.
Peter hops up from his seat. “It’s almost time for us to go, so why don’t the two of you give Tonks the grand tour while Remus and I work on one last thing in the kitchen?”
James nods dutifully and pats Tonks on the back, then we cut to Remus’s beautiful new kitchen, where Peter has already set up a few basic cooking tools.
“Can you cook eggs?” He asks Remus.
Remus hesitates before he answers, “In theory.”
“Let me guess. You’ve read about it?” Peter asks smugly.
Remus nods.
Peter goes to the fridge and pulls out a carton of eggs. “Before we leave you, I want to show you how to make the perfect soft scrambled eggs. Because you might not eat breakfast, but… you know, maybe a date goes well, maybe there's someone else around who might like a little eggs and toast in the morning.”
Remus chuckles self-consciously. “Right, maybe.”
Peter has Remus start by cracking four eggs into a shiny chrome mixing bowl.
“The key ingredient, you may be surprised to hear,” Peter says as he takes the bowl from Remus and goes to the sink, “is water.” He splashes just a bit of it into the eggs before returning the bowl to Remus for whisking.
Peter walks Remus through cooking the eggs on a gentle heat, and how to tenderly scrape and fold them until he has a perfect cloud of golden yellow deliciousness.
James pops his head in from the doorway. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’s?”
“I swear,” Peter says, shaking his head fondly, “Jamie can smell food from a mile away.”
Just out of frame, Tonks can be heard saying, “Lots more room for D&D at this table!”
And then all five of them are crowded into the kitchen itching for a fluffy bite of egg.
“Alright,” James says when the plate is empty, clapping Remus on the shoulder. “This is the bittersweet moment when we leave you. Do you think you’re ready for tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Remus says, jutting out his chin and nodding with confidence. “I think so.” Then he shrugs. “But, honestly, I just want to get better at meeting new people. If I leave with only a couple of new friends, that’ll be a win.”
“Oh, come on,” Sirius says from across the kitchen. “You can aim higher than that.”
“Absolutely!” James enthuses, giving Remus’s shoulder another clap and jostling him a little. “You’re going to woo the pants off everyone there and come home with a million phone numbers!”
Peter and Tonks cheer their agreement!
“Thank you.” Remus accepts their confidence with a humble nod. “Really, thank you for everything. All of you.” He puts a friendly arm around Tonks’s shoulders and looks around at the group, who already seem a little misty-eyed. “For seeing something in me that I couldn't see myself, and for putting in so much work to bring it out. Truly, I feel like a new person. I feel like me. Like I can be me, for the first time in a very long time. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.”
The group replies with some awws and words of gratitude of their own before James wipes the corner of his eye and says, “Alright, bring it in!”
They all gather one last time into a huddle.
His arms around Remus and Peter's shoulders, James asks, “Can we get one more howl before we go?”
“A howl?” Tonks repeats, raising an eyebrow.
Remus laughs during the countdown, but this time when they reach three he lets out the strongest “Aawwooooo!” of all of them.
My heart's a secret, mmm.
I think I'm coming alive, yeah!
I think I'm coming alive with you!
Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Now That I Found You” plays over one last black-and-white clip of the Triple Threat. This time, they are joined in their joyful dancing by the suavely-coiffed and chicly-dressed Remus Lupin.
Tell me you'll keep it.
I think I'm coming alive, yeah!
I come alive with you!
As they shimmy into a fade-out, the chemistry between Remus and Sirius is palpable.
Day Five
“There are times to stay put, and what you want will come to you, and there are times to go out into the world and find such a thing for yourself.”
- Lemony Snicket
In the stylish kitchen of the Queer Eye loft, Peter pours three pretty, pink Palomas and garnishes each with a thin slice of grapefruit. James joins him, picks up one of the drinks, and raises it in a toast.
“Wait,” Peter says, a nervous waver in his voice. “Can't start without Sirius.”
“Right, right.” James puts the glass back down and looks around, leaning against the counter.
James checks his watch, then looks just off camera. “Where is he, anyway?”
There's an unpolished quality to the conversation. James and Peter are slouching and their voices don't carry their usual airy energy. It seems to be unproduced. Unscripted.
An unfamiliar voice chimes in. A producer. “He's coming later. We can start without him.”
“Without him?” Peter echoes, face twisted in scepticism.
“Yeah,” the producer says. “Don't worry about it.”
Peter and James exchange shrugs, then straighten up. James clears his throat. They are polished once again as they pick up their drinks – leaving the third glass conspicuously untouched – and head toward the loft’s living room.
“Ready to check in on our wolf?” James asks, now with his usual television-host energy.
“Don't let us down, Remus!” Peter cheers.
They plop down onto the tan leather sofa where a bowl of popcorn awaits them. Peter picks up the remote and, with a friendly bark, Padfoot races in to join them! He jumps up on the sofa and nuzzles into James’s arm.
“You sure we should start?” Peter asks the people off-camera. He must receive an affirmative answer, because he presses a button on the remote and the television comes to life. On the screen, Remus is getting ready for his big night.
He's in his bathroom (which is tidy and spotless now that the storm that was the Triple Threat has passed) in front of the sink, wearing a grubby long-sleeved T-shirt and joggers, his hair damp. He pulls a silver spray bottle from the medicine cabinet.
“Right…” he mutters, peering at the label. “Bit of sea salt.”
He squeezes his eyes shut as he mists the spray toward his hair a few times, hitting every angle. Then he sets the bottle onto the sink and works his fingers through his curls.
“That's right,” James encourages, as if Remus can hear him through the screen. “Scrunch it in. Give those luscious locks some texture.”
When he’s finished scrunching, Remus struggles a bit trying to get the diffuser attachment onto his hair dryer. He succeeds in the end and spends some time transforming wet brown into springy chestnut and amber.
When he finally wraps up and checks himself in the mirror, he looks great!
Wardrobe is next.
When Remus opens his closet, he reaches reflexively for the pile of mended jumpers.
“No,” Peter groans.
Remus stops himself. He pivots and begins to flick through the hanging shirts and trousers. He reaches the cloudy blue slacks and sandy knit polo. His hand hovers for a moment, hesitating. After a wiggle of his fingers, he finds the confidence he needs to grab the hangers and pull out the clothes that make him look like a day at the beach.
“Ooh,” Peter coos with curiosity. “What's this outfit? We didn't see this one.”
“Yeah… Would be really great if Sirius were here to comment on this,” James grumbles, shooting a side-eye off camera. He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth. Padfoot nabs a fallen kernel from his lap.
Once Remus has the outfit on, he looks at his reflection in the full-length mirror on the inside of the closet door. With a look of uncertainty, he grasps his elbows. Then, he reaches back into the closet, pulls out the fuzzy cardigan, and slips it on over the polo. While it is a nice cardigan, it decidedly does not fit the look.
“No, no, too much!” James shouts.
As if he can hear James’s shouting, Remus shakes his head with a grimace and pulls it off again.
“But what if it gets cold…?” he mumbles to himself.
“You'll be fine!” Peter wails at the screen.
After a moment of pondering, Remus tosses the cardigan onto his bed and grabs the brown twill jacket, draping it over his elbow. Just in case.
“Not great for this outfit, but better than the cardigan,” Peter says.
James nods and sips his Paloma.
Remus regards himself in the mirror one last time, standing up straight and taking a deep breath.
“You look great!” James cheers.
“Go get ‘em, Remus!” Peter agrees, before scarfing down a handful of popcorn.
With a final calming breath and a look around to make sure he didn't forget anything, Remus steps out of his lovely, cozy flat.
We rejoin him at a little pub decorated floor-to-ceiling with quirky paintings, mysterious knick-knacks, and multicolored fairy lights. After a quick, friendly chat with the event’s host (Remus is great at introducing himself!), she ushers him to a booth seat at a little two-top table decorated simply with a tealight in a jar. She hands him a small piece of paper and a pencil. As soon as she departs and Remus is alone, his charismatic facade falls, and nervousness is written all over his face.
Despite his nerves, as soon as the first handsome young lad sits down at his table, Remus seems to have no trouble applying what he practiced at book club! He introduces himself genially and, though his voice quivers a few times here and there, he’s good at asking questions, answering them, smiling, and generally being a normal, nice guy. He should have no trouble getting a date.
A couple of the short dates don’t go so well: Michael is far too quiet, and Andrew S. is far too drunk. But others seem to go splendidly! Roshan is an avid reader, and Josh has a great smile and even laughs at something Remus says (though it’s unclear whether Remus means it as a joke).
Part-way through there’s a break, and we check in with Remus as he gets himself a drink at the bar.
“They all seem nice,” he says to the camera, but he doesn’t sound enthusiastic. “Maybe I’ll make a few new friends. But, yeah… I dunno. Something just seems missing.” He shrugs.
Back at the loft, James and Peter are perplexed.
“What’s he on about?” says Pete, eyes glued to the screen. “What about Josh? I liked Josh!”
“He’s self-sabotaging!” James cries. “Stop it, Remus! You deserve love!”
The break ends and Remus heads back to his seat. Things go on much the same way. At the ding of a bell, the dates switch, and Remus jots down a few notes on his little piece of paper. Some dates are lovely, some are immediate no’s. None of them seem to excite Remus much.
And then the bell dings again. There’s another rotation, and out from around a corner comes a shiny black boot, and neatly pressed black slacks, and an expensive-looking black silk shirt with the top few buttons undone, and long, flowing, black hair, and it’s Sirius Black who’s taking a seat across from Remus.
“Hi,” he says, more nervously than we've ever heard Sirius Black before.
Remus is beaming. For the first time all night, he looks genuinely excited and hopeful.
James and Peter gawk at the TV screen, their jaws on the metaphorical floor.
James leans over to address a producer. “Did you know about this?”
“What’s he doing?” Peter adds.
We don’t hear a response.
“You look nice,” Sirius cheekily compliments the outfit he picked out himself.
“Thanks,” Remus says with a chuckle and a blush. Then he furrows his brow a bit and asks, “Are you here to… to give me a last-minute pep talk, or something?”
“Oh!” Sirius exclaims, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “No… actually. I’m here to… er, to go on a date with you.”
Remus blinks.
“A speed date, anyway,” Sirius adds with a chuckle. “But hopefully a real date, too, after that.”
Remus’s lips threaten to curl into a smile. “What?”
“I know this isn’t how this normally goes,” Sirius waves a hand vaguely around, indicating the speed dating event (or perhaps meaning Queer Eye itself). “But…” He rests his arms on the table and leans in, looking deep into Remus’s eyes. “Would you like to go out sometime?”
James is frozen with his hand in the popcorn bowl.
Peter glances off-camera. “...Is that allowed?”
Remus’s half-smile morphs into amused disbelief. “You want to go out with me?”
“Yes,” Sirius says like it’s obvious.
“But I’m not anything!” Remus says with a bemused laugh.
“What?!” Now Sirius is bemused. “Have we taught you nothing this week, Remus? Have I completely failed you?”
“No! No, I just… you’re…” Remus waves his hands at Sirius’s… everything. “You’re gorgeous. And successful!”
“So are you!”
It seems Remus doesn’t know what to say to that, so Sirius continues.
“Look, I don’t want you to feel pressured because of the show, or anything. I just… I really like you, Remus. And I wanted to see if you’d like to get drinks, or something. Just the two of us.”
Remus laughs through his nose, slowly shakes his head, and blinks a few more times, until he seems to accept that moderately-famous and extremely-handsome Style Expert Sirius Black is really asking him out on a date.
“Yeah,” he says, “I’d like that.”
“Great!” Sirius grins, any hint of nervousness dissolving.
“Great.”
The bell dings.
“Afterwards…” Remus drawls as Sirius stands. His smile twitches like he’s about to surprise even himself. “Maybe we can try out those silk pillowcases you got me.”
James and Peter’s shrieks send Padfoot running, and the popcorn bowl goes flying.
“Remus!” Sirius laughs and gives him a flirtatious shove. Then he straightens up and flicks his hair over his shoulder. “Well, I wasn’t really buying them for you, was I?”
Remus’s next date slips into the seat, his eyes darting between Remus and Sirius, clearly having interrupted something. But there’s no need for us to waste any more time on these nobodies, so we cut to the end.
Remus is handing the little paper with his dates’ rankings to the host. She thanks him for coming, and he thanks her for hosting, and then he steps away, turning toward the camera. There’s an anxious spring in his step and he tucks his hands into the pockets of those cloudy blue trousers.
“I think you can guess who I put as my number one,” he says, smiling bashfully at the camera. Then he glances down, and his smile falters. “I probably didn’t actually need to fill it out, did I?”
With another click of the remote by Peter, the screen in the QE loft goes black.
“Well,” James says, picking up his glass. “I suppose we did what we set out to do.” He shrugs his shoulders and lifts what remains of his cocktail. “To Remus!”
Peter clinks his glass against James’s. “And Sirius!”
“To Remus and Sirius!” James cheers, and they both down their drinks.
All things just keep getting better!
QE HIP TIP
“Not a morning person?” Sirius yawns in what seems to be a voiceover on a dark screen. “Try waking up with natural light, either from a timed lamp, or the sun!”
There’s a fwoosh like a curtain being flung open, and sunlight floods in. Sirius is there, wearing a black silk pajama set with white piping, and he’s standing in a familiar ocean-blue room. Just out of focus behind him, half-buried under a collection of cozy blankets, Remus grumbles and rolls away from the sudden blinding light.
“If that’s not your speed,” continues the chipper Sirius, “try starting your day with something that brings you joy.”
We cut to a close-up of the half-asleep, disgruntled Remus. Sirius pops up in front of him, holding a tray under Remus’s nose. On the tray: a plate of eggs and toast, a mug of tea, and a worn paperback.
“Breakfast and a book?” he offers sweetly.
Remus cracks open a single eyelid and his disgruntled morning face softens. “Mm… thank you.”
He takes the tray and gives Sirius a grateful peck on the lips before sitting up to dig in.
With a ting! sound effect and a little sparkle, Sirius winks.
Say it's more than one day that you'll be here beside me.
It's you, and all of the things you do, that make it alright!
All things just keep getting better!