Chapter Text
James’ flat is not what Regulus expected.
It’s… nice.
Not that he’d imagined it as a hovel or anything, but he’d pictured something a bit more–well, more. Something vibrant and messy, something colourful and bright. Something more like James.
What he sees, instead, are pale walls, impersonal furniture, the occasional non-descript painting that looks like it came with the furniture, and the overall impression is so ‘meh’ that he struggles to reconcile the dwelling with the man who lives in it. He can’t stop darting his eyes around the room where they’re having tea on the nice but boring beige sofa, and despite his best intentions he can’t get rid of an ever-present frown.
James just seems so relaxed and comfortable at Sirius’ and Remus’ place that Regulus can’t make sense of why he’s choosing to live inside an IKEA-showroom.
“I can hear you thinking.” James presses a small kiss to his temple, lips warm from the tea.
“Mhm.”
“What about?”
“Your flat is just… not what I’d expected.”
James chuckles. “What, boring as f*ck?”
Regulus snorts, quietly agreeing with the assessment. “No–it’s nice.”
“Impressive how you can make a positive word sound so negative,” James teases. “Should I be offended?”
“Up to you.”
“Well, go on then, why is nice so bad?”
Regulus blows out a breath and leans more heavily into James’ side, putting his legs up on the sofa, struggling to formulate his thoughts in a way that doesn’t overly offend his boyfriend. “Not bad, just, again, not what I expected. I suppose I pictured something–colourful, with millions of personal knick-knacks all over the place.”
He’s unsure why he’s making such a big deal about it, but… the flat just feels wrong, somehow. Like a weird little box where someone shoved the brightest person he’s ever met and told him to make do. It’s nice, and boring, and impersonal.
And that’s when he realises why the flat makes him feel slightly off-kilter: it might be James’ place, but it’s not James’ home.
He exhales softly while James’ makes a sound of amusem*nt. “I haven’t bothered to personalize it, actually. I barely spend any time here to be honest.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Two years, give or take.”
Ah, since Lily then. Regulus drinks some tea so that he won’t make a derogatory comment.
Oddly enough, the thought that Lily hasn’t lived here makes him feel a bit better. He thinks he prefers the boring over a place where every room is suffused with her presence and their memories.
He plucks the mug out of James’ hand and sets it down alongside his own on the coffee-table then turns around with a small smirk.
“Well, at least it’s private,” he murmurs and leans in. He runs his hand up along the back of James’ warm, solid neck and tugs gently on his untameable hair, entwining his fingers in it, relishing how it feels. This close, he can see James’ pupils dilate, and it sends a thrill through him to see the effect he has.
“That it is,” James rasps, and then they’re kissing.
It doesn’t take Regulus long to firmly seat himself in James’ lap, his every nerve ending come alive with each increasingly bold touch, every wet slide of James’ tongue against his, every sound exchanged between them as they kiss, and grab, and frantically scramble to get even closer.
His head is spinning, his skin is burning, and when there are at last no barriers between them, Regulus fears he might sob out of sheer joy to have James this close. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before, this fire, this yearning, this all-consuming desire.
He can’t form any words to reciprocate, but he greedily soaks up every whispered and moaned praise against his skin from James’ mouth, tucks each beautiful and gorgeous and Regulus deep inside his heart, lets them warm his body from inside out and set him aflame.
Afterwards, tucked close together on the sofa that’s been made less boring simply by association, he places gentle kisses against James’ bare, sweat slicked chest, and sighs softly, happily, into the warm skin. He’s still incredulous that he gets to have this, gets to have James, but he does feel undeniably claimed, and it’s delicious.
“Love you,” James murmurs against his damp hair and Regulus has to bite his tongue to not say it back. He hums happily instead and places a gentle kiss against James’ swollen lips.
***
“CALLED IT!” Marlene screams and knocks her chair over as she surges to her feet, waving her arms in the air as Regulus and James arrive hand in hand to the Three Broomsticks on Saturday evening.
Dorcas winces at the volume but she’s smiling brightly at them both, and Regulus can’t stop himself from mirroring it.
He blames his unusual high levels of endorphins.
At his side, James is beaming, practically vibrating with joy, and while Regulus has reconciled that he’ll probably never understand why he causes such happiness in James, he has decided to do his best to simply accept and enjoy it.
“We all called it, sit down,” Dorcas says, and she does look sufficiently smug that Regulus believes her. Marlene laughs, rights her chair and flops into it. James and Regulus shuffle onto the bench on the wall with James in the middle, next to Dorcas, unwilling to separate enough to even sit on opposite sides of the table.
“So when’d this happen?” Marlene gestures between them, still grinning widely.
“Sunday,” James replies with a besotted look on his handsome face, and Regulus doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of seeing it levelled at him.
Marlene whistles quietly, a long, drawn-out sound. “About time. I thought for sure it was gonna happen last Thursday, you looked awfully cosy when we arrived.”
“Yeah well, maybe it would’ve but you’re a massive co*ckblocker so thanks for that,” James snipes.
“Hey, don’t blame me just because you can’t seal the deal!”
“Says the bird who took six months to ask out her girlfriend.”
Marlene rolls her eyes. Regulus is reluctantly impressed. “Oh I’m sorry, were you grappling with an über-catholic upbringing these past few weeks and just forgot to mention? No, because Effie and Fleamont are the f*cking best, so you were just chicken.”
“I am not a chicken!” James exclaims indignantly. “I’m brave as f*ck, regular old lion over here.”
“Please, you’re a prissy little housecat at best.”
James hisses, then both he and Marlene collapse into fits of laughter. Regulus and Dorcas share an exasperated look, and Regulus rather enjoys the opportunity for commiseration.
“Reggie!”
Regulus straightens and looks over at the entrance. Evan raises a hand and waves, but Barty, being Barty, doesn’t content himself with a normal greeting.
Regulus doesn’t know why he expected anything different.
Instead, he soon finds himself with a lap full of Barty, crushing arms around his neck and the breath knocked out of him.
“f*ck’s sake, Crouch,” Regulus grunts. “Get off!”
“But I missed you Reggie,” Barty trills in his ear and rests his cheek on his shoulder, eyeing James. “And helloooooo brother-stealer.”
Regulus glances at his boyfriend, who’s looking a little confused but mostly delightfully murderous, brown eyes flashing with ire. James has an obvious jealous streak a mile wide, and Regulus is sort of loving it now that he’s spotted it.
“I warned you,” Regulus sighs, squirming a little where he sits, but Barty’s effectively trapped him between his thighs and in his arms. He turns his eyes onto Evan over Barty’s shoulder. “Do something.”
Evan shrugs from where he’s taken a seat next to Marlene. “I’m not his keeper.”
Regulus glares at Barty, going slightly cross-eyed from the angle. “Get off before my boyfriend makes you.”
“Ooooh, boyfriend,” Barty grins, but obediently shuffles backward until he’s standing up. “So many titles to choose from.”
As soon as Barty’s off Regulus’ lap, James’ arm descends around his shoulders in a pathetically obvious attempt at claiming, which nevertheless leaves Regulus feeling smug.
“Barty, then?” James asks in a strained voice.
“At your service.” Barty bows, then takes a seat next to Evan.
“And you must be Evan,” James says to Evan, who nods and smiles. Dorcas and Marlene introduce themselves next, and then the whole procedure is repeated when Remus and Sirius arrive.
Throughout, James keeps his arm around Regulus, lowering it from his shoulders to his waist, with the occasional quick kiss to his temple. It’s ridiculously transparent.
Regulus loves every second of it.
Sirius and Marlene eventually head over to the bar to order drinks for the table, and Regulus is not surprised in the least to see a tray of shots in addition to pitchers filled with cider and beer. Sirius is sporting something of a maniacal grin as he places both a glass of cider and a shot in front of Regulus, and Regulus raises an eyebrow but doesn’t object.
“You’re drinking tonight?” James asks quietly in his ear.
“Mhm, no chance I’ll sing your inane picks otherwise,” Regulus murmurs back. James chuckles and presses a kiss to his cheek.
“Let’s do this!” Marlene booms, raising her shot glass. The others follow suit, and soon enough a chorus of ughs and blerghs ring out around the table and only Remus doesn’t grimace at the taste of whatever rat poison Marlene and Sirius deemed acceptable for consumption.
It doesn’t take long for Regulus’ head to start spinning.
James gasps in delight and half hovers out of his chair, pointing over at the stage. “Look! They’ve finally gotten a mic stand!”
“Finally!” Sirius cries, barely able to contain his excitement. “We’ve only been asking for it for years!”
“That’s brilliant–Jamie, hurry the f*ck up,” Marlene hisses, practically bouncing in her chair.
James hurriedly gets back to drinking, downing his beer far too quickly for Regulus’ tastes.
“Right, as newcomers, one of you get to choose the first song of the evening,” Sirius declares pompously at Evan and Barty while James is busy gulping down his beer. Barty immediately starts to grin, and Evan looks intrigued. “The only rule is that is has to be a little odd but decently well known. Bonus points if you can think of something that directly relates to anyone at the table.”
“I’ve got just the song,” Barty says, grin widening. Regulus’ eyes narrow in his direction. He receives a wink and a flutter of eyelashes in return.
“Wicked! Just head on up with James here and tell the bloke–oh look, Ian’s working tonight–which song you’ve picked,” Sirius says, craning his neck to see the podium at the back of the stage where Ian has taken up vigil behind a laptop.
The pub is already decidedly more crowded than Regulus has seen it before, more people trickling in occasionally, and he feels a slight flutter of nervousness at the thought of getting up on stage in front of so many people, especially since he doesn’t get to even pick what song to perform. However, the alcohol is quickly making its way through his bloodstream, and he suspects it won’t be long until he can’t even be bothered to worry any further.
He's already feeling a bit… giggly.
His gorgeous boyfriend finishes the last of his beer and they dutifully move out of his way as he clambers out of his seat. James and Barty head over to the stage, Barty trades some words with Ian and then comes back to the table.
“You’re welcome,” he says, smugly, to Regulus.
“You’ve clearly never heard James sing,” Marlene sniffs even as Regulus’ cheeks darken while he imagines what type of song Barty might have chosen for James.
He doesn’t need to wonder for long.
The song begins immediately, with James holding onto the stationary microphone with one hand and the other halfway down the stand, practically bouncing in place.
Well I’ve never been much for admitting things
That’s why it’s all so hard to say
That I’m head over heels in love with your kind of insanity
James winks, his face split by a wide grin.
And if it please your highness on a sunny day sometime
Can I take your picture in the park with silk and satin on?
Star baby
Regulus chokes on nothing but air.
Flashy little, shiny little, two-timin’ mama
Singin’ star baby
Shiny little, flashy little lovin’ machine
I never been much good at keepin’ a secret
Now, it’s easy for me to say
That I’m head over heels
Shook up about the way that you fool with me
Regulus just knows he’s turned an impressive shade of vermillion as his boyfriend shouts the lyrics.
And if it please your highness on a sunny day sometime
Can you take me ridin’
maybe I’ll tell you what I’m thinking ‘bout you
Star baby
James croons into the microphone and while Regulus sort of wants to strangle Barty with his bare hands for embarrassing him like this, he’s also so unbelievably pleased about the whole affair that he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself other than keep blushing and stare at his boyfriend with stars in his eyes, smiling just as widely as James is.
Flashy little, shiny little lovin’ machine
James dances and jumps around the stage during the interlude, cradling the microphone stand in his arms, alternatively twirling and dipping it almost like he’s imagining it to be Regulus. His energy is infectious, and people are cheering, whistling, and clapping their hands, and all Regulus can think is mine, mine, mine.
That bright, wonderful beam of sunshine up there that has the entire pub wrapped around his finger with his sheer presence, belongs to him.
Regulus can’t suppress a giggle. Another one quickly follows. He drowns the third in his glass of cider, studiously ignoring the delight on Barty and Evan’s faces, and lets himself get swept up in the upbeat music.
Well I saw you last night on a Hollywood show
And now it’s easy for me to say
That I’m head over heels shook up
about the way that you sang to me
James points at Regulus and wiggles his eyebrows, grin growing impossibly wider. He has no shame.
Regulus loves it.
And if it please your highness
on a sunny day sometime
Can you take me drivin’
maybe kissin’ in your Cadillac?
Star baby
The crowd sings along with the chorus, several people wiggling in their chairs, looking moments away from bursting out of their seats and dancing along with James who couldn’t stay stationary if his life depended on it.
Star baby
Flashy little, shiny little lovin’ machine
I want you, star baby
Now don’t’cha wanna love me?
Star baby
The song tapers off and the pub explodes with noise when James takes a bow at the end, leaning the mic stand to the side as he bends over at the waist. He skips off the stage and saunters back over to them, eyes intent on Regulus, who’s staring back just as hard.
The air seems to stretch between them, pulsing, the gasp before getting tugged under the waves.
When James gets close enough, Regulus reaches out and grabs him, dragging him down, and snogs him senseless to the cheers of their table, only Sirius making retching noises, but Regulus doesn’t even hear it.
James isn’t the only one who can stake his territory.
When he eventually lets James go, James’ glasses are askew, his pupils blown wide, and for some reason he’s looking at Regulus like he’s the special one.
Regulus wants to say it.
Wants to reciprocate what James has told him several times already.
But Regulus is a coward and contents himself with another hard kiss to drown the words.
“Strong f*cking choice right out the gate!” Sirius declares loudly and Barty affects a small bow where he sits as the others agree and even offer a small applause.
“Admirable performance, dear chap,” Sirius continues, grinning widely at James. ”You really don’t have any rhythm though.”
Before James can reply, Regulus smugly shoots back with a smirk, “Sure he does, I have no complaints.”
Sirius gasps but the rest of them explode into laughter at the insinuation.
Another patron gets up on stage to sing and they content themselves with drinking and arguing about who among them should head on up next.
Regulus sits tucked into James’ side, occasionally running his nose against James’ throat and inhaling, feeling pleasantly floaty already. Any compunctions he’d normally have about being this affectionate among other people seem to have vanished and Regulus doesn’t even notice. All he can feel, all he can focus on, is James’ warmth right next to him, his lovely scent of summer and the rumble of his laughter.
It takes him a while to realise Evan’s been waving a hand in front of his face, trying to get his attention. “What?”
“How you doin’ there, Reggie?” Evan asks, amused.
“Peachy,” Regulus sniffs and sips his cider. The glass is nearly empty. When’d that happen?
He pours some more out of one of the pitchers.
James is drawn into conversation or some sort of debate with Marlene, Sirius, and Dorcas. Regulus can’t really hear what they’re discussing. James’ body is just so warm against his side, and he sighs softly. He kind of wishes they were back at James’ place, where James happily walks around without a shirt on, and Regulus can easily clamber onto his lap whenever he feels like it.
He sighs again but perks up when James presses a kiss against his temple before turning back to his conversation.
He hadn’t even been angling for that.
“So how’d you three meet?”
Regulus blinks at Remus who’s apparently on his other side.
“Uni,” Regulus answers.
“A man of words, our Reggie. Can barely get him to shut up,” Barty says. Evan nods solemnly.
Regulus flips them off, saying nothing. Barty rolls his eyes.
“I was also doing linguistics for a semester before I realised that I found it mind-numbingly boring. Me and Reggie were paired up for a bunch of assignments. Eventually, I left the programme but not before declaring my undying love as it were for our star baby here,” Barty says, leering a little at Regulus.
Like clockwork, James presses a kiss to Regulus’ temple, and he hums happily.
“We started seeing each other shortly after Barty switched programmes, and I met Regulus pretty much right after that,” Evan adds.
“Well, you had to see the competition to get your head out of your ass,” Barty sniffs.
“Competition?” James asks sharply while affecting a casual tone that isn’t fooling anybody, suddenly drawn into the conversation. Even Sirius looks amused.
Barty smirks at him. It’s obvious how much Barty is enjoying pushing every single one of James’ buttons already. Regulus can’t even really blame him; James makes it so easy.
“Mhm,” Barty says, smiling, refusing to elaborate.
“Did you two date?” James asks bluntly when no other information is forthcoming, looking between Regulus and Barty.
Regulus beams innocently at him. Barty snickers.
Neither of them answers.
Evan looks thoroughly amused.
Regulus expects to be the first to cave at James’ suspicious darting glances–he doesn’t actually want to cause his boyfriend distress, he’s just having a bit of fun–but it’s surprisingly Barty who sighs dramatically and says, “Alas, despite my very earnest attempts at wooing him, Regulus wanted nothing to do with me romantically.”
Regulus snorts. “Yes, because asking me the first day we met if instead of listening to the lecture I wanna go f*ck in a bathroom was so romantic.”
James makes a small sound that might have been an attempted laugh and Regulus pats his thigh under the table.
Evan shrugs. “Worked on me.”
“Slag,” Regulus drawls. He then turns to his boyfriend, smiling gently. “Barty wasn’t actually serious.”
“Shows what you know,” Barty snorts. Regulus cuts him a glare, no longer interested in messing with James, who’s a wonderful beam of sunshine and doesn’t deserve it. Barty rolls his eyes but relents. “Fine. I didn’t mean it, and nothing’s ever happened between me and Regulus. Scout’s honour. I only brought Reg along as a wingman when Evan wasn’t interested in going steady with me.” He smiles adoringly at Evan. “Apparently, he wasn’t convinced I didn’t just want to f*ck him in bathrooms.”
“Can you blame me?” Evan retorts. “You’re not exactly what I’d call a stable individual, darling.”
Barty bares his teeth then bears down on Evan for some enthusiastic snogging.
Regulus grins and turns to Remus. “So, yeah, ‘uni’ pretty much sums it up.”
Remus laughs and shakes his head. “Noted.”
Regulus reaches out and wraps an arm around James’ waist, resting his head on his shoulder.
“You really didn’t date?” James murmurs quietly, sounding a little anxious even to Regulus’ ears. The jealousy and strange insecurity (what the hell would someone like James Potter have to be insecure about?) might have been annoying if it wasn’t so very endearing.
“I promise,” Regulus murmurs back and they share a soft kiss.
“Could you please stop defiling my brother at every given moment?” Sirius groans loudly.
Regulus leans into the kiss even further and flips his brother off without looking.
James, who apparently opened his eyes at the sound of Sirius’ voice, laughs, which makes continued kissing rather difficult. Regulus groans and lets his forehead drop onto James’ shoulder.
“Damn it Older Black, way to ruin the show,” Evan chides from where he’s come up for air.
“I think we’re surrounded by perverts, love,” Dorcas sighs to Marlene.
Marlene nods. “Quite right, dearest one. I think we need something wholesome to get their heads back on straight.”
Sirius is then promptly forced to sing Dancing Queen, which he does happily and with gusto, utilising the microphone stand to its fullest potential with almost exaggerated dramatic flair while their table sings along (as does the rest of the pub at the timeless classic) and dance in their chairs. Even Regulus caves, joining in the chorus, and when he darts a glance at James, he’s beaming right back at him.
Regulus smiles at him and it’s easy and he’s happy and how did life get this good?
***
When it’s eventually Regulus’ turn to take the stage a while later, it’s Sirius who picks the song. The battle for that dubious honour lasted for a full fifteen minutes, indignant squawks interspersed with furious whispering as people shared suggestions too low for Regulus to pick up on, before Sirius got an almost wild look in his eyes and a demented grin that spelled trouble, staring at James, and declaring that he had the perfect pick.
Regulus sways a little on the spot in front of the microphone while he waits, resigned to his fate. He’ll do his best with whatever Sirius has chosen that’s so presumably perfect. It’s the least he can do for his brother, and James seems so very happy whenever Regulus participates that it’s no hardship, not really.
Before the song starts, Sirius halts by his side and whispers, “Keep your eye on James as much as possible, ‘kay?”
Regulus hums in affirmation and wonders whether he’ll know the song well enough to comply. He resolves to try, though, since Sirius seems to have gone to some sort of trouble for James.
The only question remaining, knowing his brother, is if the “perfect” song is romantic or filthy.
The music starts and Regulus smiles once he recognises it, and it’s no difficulty keeping his eye on James.
He places both hands on the microphone in its stand, leans in close, and starts to sing.
You’re just too good to be true
Can’t take my eyes off of you
You’d be like heaven to touch
I wanna hold you so much
At long last love has arrived
And I thank God I’m alive
You’re just too good to be true
Can’t take my eyes off of you
James looks like he might actually burst into tears of joy at any moment.
Pardon the way that I stare
There’s nothing else to compare
The sight of you leaves me weak
There are no words left to speak
But if you feel like I feel
Please let me know that it’s real
You’re just too good to be true
Can’t take my eyes off of you
The song picks up speed a little and Regulus keeps swaying to the music, smiling over at James, blind to anyone else. They don’t matter.
He knows what’s coming next, he can see the lyrics on the screen, and he’s gearing up, preparing himself.
Even a coward can get away with this. Even a coward will dare.
He spares a brief thought of thanks for Sirius, for giving him the opportunity to practice.
He can do this. He can.
He takes a deep breath and raises his voice.
I love you, baby
And if it’s quite alright
I need you, baby
To warm a lonely night
I love you, baby
Trust in me when I say
Oh pretty baby
Don’t bring me down, I pray
Oh pretty baby, now that I found you, stay
And let me love you, baby
Let me love you
Swooning.
That’s the word to describe what James is doing while Regulus lowers his voice again, crooning into the microphone: swooning.
His eyes are glued to James’, his every word is for James, and f*ck it if it doesn’t feel incredible. He didn’t even pick the song, but his wonderful brother did and it’s like he’s plucked every hidden feeling out of the depths of Regulus’ soul and made him share it with James from behind the safety of a song.
At long last love has arrived
And I thank God I’m alive
You’re just too good to be true
Can’t take my eyes off of you
He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of James since they first met in this very pub. How did he get to incredibly lucky that it’s the same way for James?
Regulus smiles.
I love you, baby
And if it’s quite alright
I need you, baby
To warm a lonely night
I love you, baby
Trust in me when I say
Oh pretty baby
Don’t bring me down, I pray
Oh pretty baby, now that I found you, stay
Oh pretty baby, trust in me when I say
The song ends.
Regulus lets go of the microphone and startles slightly at the applause that rings out from everyone in the room. He smiles hesitantly in thanks, gives a curt nod, and then makes his way back to their table, eyes still fixed on James because there’s really nothing and no one else he’d rather be looking at anyway.
James is smiling so brightly it’s almost blinding in its brilliance. His warm, brown eyes are glittering and Regulus’ heart thumps James’ name so loudly he almost thinks James can hear it.
He slides onto the bench and James immediately attacks him much like Regulus had him earlier.
“That was incredible,” James breathes out against his lips and Regulus hums happily in response.
He thinks he can hear Barty comment on what a great wingman Sirius is, but he’s distracted by James’ tongue in his mouth.
***
The next morning, Regulus wakes up, tongue dry as cotton and the inside of his mouth tasting like the underside of a soiled boot.
He blinks, then squeezes his eyes together again, a soft groan of pain escaping his lips.
There’s a rustle from next to him, and he reaches out blindly. His palm meets warm, bare skin and he weakly pushes at it. It might be a shoulder. James grunts. The sheets rustle a bit more. Regulus manages a weak whimper of distress.
“’y’kay?”
Regulus whimpers again in response, eyes still stubbornly screwed shut. If he doesn’t open them, surely the room will remain stationary, and he won’t have to heave his guts out on the floor.
Regulus is cautiously optimistic. It does not come naturally to him.
James huffs, a sleepy but clearly amused sound, and then grunts, “Wha’ d’ya need?”
Honestly, if James could learn to read minds in the next seconds, that’d be fabulous.
Alas.
“Water,” Regulus manages then purses his lips together to keep anything other than air inside his mouth.
His disgusting, dry mouth that is rapidly filling with saliva.
Uh oh.
He whimpers.
Before James can comply with his wish, Regulus rolls out of bed and on unsteady feet blindly rushes in what he hopes might be the direction of the bathroom. He cracks one eye open, because needs must unless he wants to decorate the bedroom by way of his mouth, finds his bearings and stumbles into the loo just in time.
After flushing, he’s tempted to lean his cheek against the cool rim of the porcelain, but Evan had gone on a rant about just how disgusting toilets are even when you clean them regularly a few years back, so Regulus smothers the impulse. Instead, he groans and gets up on wobbly legs, and turns to the sink. He rinses his mouth with both water and mouthwash then fumbles his way back to the bedroom.
The apartment is starting to brighten with the day but is still naturally dark enough not be overly offensive due to it only being February, so he finds his way easily enough despite keeping his eyes half-lidded. At least there’s no sunshine; he might have actually perished were that the case.
James is sitting up in bed when he returns, comforter over his legs but his chest bare, and hands him a glass of water.
“Sorry I wasn’t fast enough, love,” he murmurs with a crooked smile.
Regulus sighs and crawls back under the covers, shivering slightly, and gratefully gulps down the water. He lets James take the glass from him when it’s empty and snuggles down into his pillow.
James carefully cards his fingers through his hair and Regulus hums tiredly to show he appreciates it. “Feeling better?” James asks, quietly, fondly.
“Little,” Regulus mumbles, eyes slipping shut with James’ ministrations. At least the nausea has abated, and his mouth doesn’t taste quite as disgusting anymore, but lethargy is dragging at his bones, and it doesn’t take him long to slip into the liminal state between waking and sleeping.
Soon he falls asleep properly.
When Regulus next stirs, he’s alone in bed.
He yawns and hesitantly opens his eyes. They’re gritty and everything’s a little blurry, but at least the room isn’t spinning this time around. He’s feeling a lot better, actually, although still pretty tired, like his limbs are weighed down and would very much prefer to stay put.
He could just go back to sleep. Regulus seriously considers whether he should for a good couple of minutes, but then James makes a sound from somewhere in the flat and Regulus doesn’t want to spend the rest of the day in bed alone.
Not that he has any energy for that kind of company. Just… it would be far nicer to spend all day in bed if James was there next to him.
He yawns again then pushes himself upright, rubbing at his eyes to get rid of the grittiness. He finds his phone on the nightstand and checks the time. Just before noon. He reluctantly swings his legs over the side of the bed and stretches, arms over his head, enjoying the pop of his spine.
“Mooooorning,” James drawls from the doorway. Regulus turns to look at him with an arched brow. James is grinning. He’s only wearing a t-shirt and some sort of flowy exercise shorts that look far too cold. Regulus has quickly found, though, that James is warmer than a furnace, so he isn’t necessarily surprised at the blatant disregard for what constitutes appropriate lounge wear during wintertime.
“Jumper, please,” he asks primly, a timely shiver punctuating his question now that he’s out from under the warmth of the covers.
“Of course, your highness,” James says with a bow and strides over to the closet. He rummages around for a bit before emerging with a dark red jumper and some black joggers which he hands over with a smirk.
Regulus’ lips twitch. James sees it and presses a soft kiss against his forehead. Regulus blushes a little then shoos him away so that he can put his borrowed clothes on.
He’d accidentally pulled on James’ shirt the previous morning when he went in search for some morning tea, and when that tiny action had led to being f*cked into the mattress on his return, he’d concluded that James apparently enjoyed seeing Regulus wear his things. James had bashfully confirmed his hypothesis and so Regulus had no compunctions about now treating James’ wardrobe as an extension of his own.
“You hungry?”
Regulus stands and sways into James, resting his cheek against James’ shoulder. So warm. My sun. “I could eat.”
James wraps an arm around his waist and carefully starts to tug him toward the kitchen. “Good. Tea and toast sound alright?”
Regulus sighs happily. “Excellent.”
He takes a seat at James’ kitchen table while James bustles around preparing their breakfast. He’s already had some tea but appears to have been waiting for Regulus to wake up before eating anything.
“How long have you been up?” he asks, eyes narrowed at James’ back where he’s filling the kettle.
“Just a half hour or so,” James replies, humming tunelessly under his breath as he’s dropping bread into the toaster.
Placated, Regulus leans back in his chair and stifles yet another yawn. “You don’t seem very hungover,” he remarks after a little while.
James huffs a small laugh and turns around, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I rarely get hungover. Besides, I barely had anything to drink last night.”
Regulus frowns. That can’t be right. “Sure you did.”
“No love, I had planned to get absolutely plastered, but you beat me to it with only two ciders, and I figured one of us should stay coherent.” James grins.
“I was coherent,” Regulus protests indignantly. Sure, the medication he’s on gets him drunk a lot faster than normal, but still…
“Oh really?”
Other than the widening grin, there’s a challenge in James’ voice that makes Regulus flinch, suddenly quite unsure about his own statement. “Um…”
James laughs and finishes making their breakfast while Regulus tries to remember what happened the night before.
It… doesn’t go well.
Things are decidedly blurry. He recalls singing once–no, wait, twice?
Surely, he hadn’t been up there three times?
“How many times did I sing last night?” he hesitantly asks his thoroughly amused boyfriend who’s just taken a seat opposite.
“Three times,” James tells him, confirming his suspicions while biting into his toast.
Regulus rubs his forehead and then starts buttering some toast for himself. “I only clearly remember the first time.”
“Well that one was my favourite so that’s fine.” James gets such a lovely, smitten look on his face at the mere mention that Regulus can’t stifle a smile. “Anyway, Dorcas and Marlene banded together for your second song, and you gave a wonderful rendition of Honey, honey that I was also pretty fond of, not gonna lie.”
Regulus snorts, some memories trickling back in at James’ words. He isn’t surprised in the least that those two took advantage of his lowered inhibitions and managed to get him to sing Abba.
He strains his brain but can’t for the life of him remember what the third song had been. “And the third?”
“Ah, yes, your third song of the evening was quite a riveting duet, actually.” James was barely supressing his snickers at the memory.
“And?”
“You and Sirius, in your poshest accents, made it all the way through Friggin’ in the riggin.”
Regulus groans. “Sex Pistols? Really?”
“Hey, I’m not the one who knew every word!”
“Who chose the song, then?” Regulus demands, almost consumed by belated mortification.
“That would be Remus,” James sighs happily.
“Of-f*cking-course it was,” Regulus mutters under his breath and rubs his hands over his face, trying to quell his blush by sheer force of will.
“Don’t worry,” James coos sweetly, “I got it all on video.”
***
Regulus has not had an easy life in some respects. He knows this. His therapist has assured him of this.
Growing up in an abusive household takes its toll, regardless of how that abuse is committed. Learning that he has to perform a certain role, that he has to meet certain expectations, in order to be loved by his parents, has left some major damage to his psyche.
He started to deal with it somewhat when he met Barty, someone who–despite all appearances–had no ulterior motives for befriending him other than that he “liked Regulus’ vibe”, and with the addition of Evan to his life who also, for some inexplicable reason, wanted to be Regulus’ friend just because. He never really had to earn their love and it left him reeling for a long time, unable to believe them. Part of him still doesn’t believe them all these years later, but he’s working on drowning out that voice when it starts whispering in his ear.
And now he has Sirius back too, arguably the first person who ever loved him without asking for anything other than his love in return. And with Sirius came Remus, with his warmth and his kindness and his this is your home for as long as you want it to be.
And then James.
Oh, James.
Larger than life, brighter than the sun, James.
Who apparently took one look at Regulus and decided that yes, that one, please and thank you. Who has already declared his love, both in words and actions, with endearments such as love and baby and darling spilling from his lips seemingly without conscious intent.
James, who wants to spend every minute of every day with Regulus, even if they merely stay in the same flat but don’t interact, or just sit quietly next to each other, with James’ hand resting on Regulus’ foot, leg, hand, or in his hair.
Work and school get in the way, of course, but Regulus takes to spending every night at James’ flat–James said he wanted that while shyly asking Regulus to tell him if it was too much and Regulus called him an idiot and turned out the lights so that James wouldn’t see his stupid grin.
Regulus has not had an easy life. But things with James are easy.
And Regulus feels so loved.
It is the same sort of feeling he’d get the few times he and Sirius got out of the city with one of their nannies into the forest; that first, deep inhale of pine and warm earth, the scent of wet leaves that never quite seemed to disperse no matter how long it’d been since the last rain. Of brilliant sunlight filtering through the crown of the trees overhead, of being serenaded by birds, and of the rustle in the underbrush as they meandered along winding dirt paths.
The feeling of freedom, of serenity, of pure contentment.
That’s what it feels like to be loved by James.
It is the easiest, most natural feeling in the world.
***
“Play me something.”
Regulus looks up from his phone to see James holding out Sirius’ acoustic guitar. They’re in Sirius’ and Remus’ flat, in the living room, waiting for Sirius and Remus to get home so that they can have dinner together. It’s early March, and while Regulus technically still lives with them, he’s spending most of his free time with James. Occasionally, they pop over just because, and the Thursday night karaoke is still going strong too.
Regulus frowns, puts his phone away and accepts the guitar. James does this occasionally. Regulus hasn’t been able to figure out the pattern yet, for when James suddenly feels the need to hear him play something, but he accepts every single time with only minimal grumbling.
“What do you want to hear?”
He checks to see that the guitar hasn’t fallen out of tune, fiddles with one of the tuning pegs until one of the slightly dodgy strings sounds just so.
“Something Swedish,” James requests, curling up on the other end of the sofa with a hopeful look on his face.
Regulus’ lips twitch into a smile and he hums quietly, gently strumming the guitar while he thinks. Looking at his boyfriend, one song after the other flits through his mind before getting discarded, until he finally latches onto one that he thinks James will enjoy.
He looks up the lyrics and chords on his phone, balancing it on his knee, and clears his throat, testing it out until he’s got the right tempo, then he starts to sing.
Det tar ett tag för mig
Jag kanske glömmer hur man gör
Sist var himlen vit som papper, ovanför
Men jag har slu*tat säga nej
Nu ska jag göra vad jag kan
Jag ska riva mina murar
tills vi ser varann
Regulus smiles and ducks his head.
För jag vet vem jag är
när jag är hos dig
Jag vet vem jag är
när jag är hos dig
He stumbles slightly through the chords during the interlude, but James doesn’t appear to notice so he doesn’t stop to do it right, just keeps on going. He darts a glance up at James who’s sporting that lovely adoring look that only Regulus ever gets to see.
Jag har aldrig fått ihop
modell och verklighet
Jag tankar nya tankar
men långsamt som du vet
Så jag lovar ingenting
Jag säger hellre förlåt
Vi ska va dom vi vill vara
hellre nu än efteråt
He launches back into the chorus, still smiling, daring to look his boyfriend in the eye for just a few moments before it gets to be a little too much, laughter burbling in his throat.
The song makes him happy, and he knows it’ll make James happy too once he looks up and translates the lyrics, like he’s shamelessly told Regulus he used to do when they first started talking. Apparently, James used to hope for love songs and sappy confessions, and Regulus just kept sending him rather dark and gloomy songs because that was what he was listening to at the moment.
Things are different now.
He hears the front door open but doesn’t stop playing, too focused on getting the short interlude right. James calls out a short greeting over his shoulder but doesn’t take his eyes off Regulus.
Sirius and Remus enter the room just as the last part comes up.
Jag har inte sagt till nån
att du blev kvar här igår
Fast det är svårt att hålla tyst
när alla frågar hur det går
För jag vet vem jag är
när jag är hos dig
Ja, jag vet vem jag är
när jag är hos dig
Sirius throws himself down into the large chair opposite the sofa, pulling Remus down with him.
“Well isn’t this romantic,” he says, grinning, once Regulus falls silent.
Regulus rolls his eyes and hands the guitar over to James who bounces out of his seat to return it to the wall.
“What’d it say?” James flops back down onto the couch, draping himself over Regulus and pressing a quick kiss against his lips, his eyes promising more when they’re alone later. For some reason, having Regulus play and/or sing something really gets him going.
It’s the primary reason for why Regulus always gives in to his requests nowadays.
Maybe they can sneak off into his room in a bit.
“You wanna take this one, or should I?” Sirius asks, smugly.
“Försök du,” Regulus taunts, shifting a little so that he’s more comfortable since James seems determined to use him as furniture.
He really should have accounted for his brother’s ridiculous memory when it came to songs.
“Because I know who I am, when I’m with you,” Sirius sings flawlessly, stretching the know to match the Swedish vet, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.
“Regulus,” James breathes then attacks Regulus with kisses that doesn’t leave Regulus any time to feel embarrassed.
“That sort of backfired,” Sirius mutters and Remus chuckles. “Oi, Prongs, get off my brother!”
“I’m good,” James calls over his shoulder and dives back in.
“Like bloody teenagers,” Remus says fondly.
***
Regulus tries.
Every single day he fights to get the words across his lips.
He practices; he sings them, he whispers them to himself when he’s alone, he thinks them constantly.
He says them to Sirius. He mutters them to Barty and Evan. He even manages to throw them over his shoulder to Remus once.
See?
He can say them. He knows he can.
Yet every time he tries to give them to James, his throat closes up, his heart is torn between beating out of his chest and stopping completely, and he feels almost lightheaded with anxiety.
He’s scared. He’s not really sure what he’s so scared of. James says it constantly, leaving the perfect opening for Regulus to say it back, to say anything, even if it’s just a measly me too if he wants to ease into it.
And every single time he chickens out.
James doesn’t make him feel bad about it. Not on purpose, at least. But Regulus has seen the quick flash of hopefulness as it darts across James’ face whenever he says the words, an opening left there just for Regulus to reciprocate. A blink and it’s gone.
Regulus seriously debates whether he should just get pissed and gain some courage that way.
But.
If he’s too scared to even say the damn words sober, how will he ever convince James that he means them?
Because he does.
f*ck, he really does.
It consumes him.
If he were braver, if he were more like Sirius, he’d even be able to tell James about it.
But Regulus is a coward and doesn’t dare.
***
“Would you be up for meeting my parents anytime soon, d’you think?”
Regulus is startled into incredulous laughter where he lies in the wet patch of the bed, still panting softly, slightly lightheaded.
“Interesting timing, Potter,” he says, overcome by helpless giggles. James turns on his side and grins at him.
“Is that a yes or a no?” He pokes at Regulus’ shoulder. Regulus lifts a hand to swat him away, still smiling dopily. He can’t help it; he’s high on endorphins and his limbs are pleasantly loose right now.
“I mean really, you just had your co*ck up my arse, and you wanna talk about your parents?” he teases.
“I wasn’t thinking of them during,” James defends himself.
Regulus snorts. “I sure f*cking hope not.”
“I just remembered that they called me earlier and it got me thinking, that’s all.”
“Mhm, right, but I’m watching you. If you suddenly start calling me daddy or something, I’ll–”
His words are replaced by delighted little shrieks as James grabs him and rolls him onto his back, bearing down on him and peppering his face with kisses while growling at him to shut up.
When James eventually stops and just hovers above him, forearms braced on either side of Regulus’ head, an expectant look on his face, Regulus smiles and nods. “’Course I’ll meet them.”
He’s been anticipating the request, anyway. He’s had time to prepare ever since he re-read his and James’ text conversations, where James made it clear how much he’d want Regulus to adore his parents just as much as Sirius does.
James beams and leans down to capture his lips in a slow, unhurried kiss. When he lifts his head a little while later, his eyes so warm, it’s the perfect moment.
Say it. Just say it.
Regulus swallows. There’s a lump in his throat, a blockage that he still hasn’t managed to get around.
Say. It.
James kisses him on the nose and then rolls off of him.
Yet another perfect moment has passed without Regulus summoning the requisite courage. What is wrong with him?
He feels like he might cry out of sheer frustration as James gets out of bed and to his feet.
“C’mon, shower time,” James declares, holding out a hand.
He’s naked, a little sweaty still, hair sticking up every which way in pure chaos, and his glasses are smudged.
It’s not a perfect moment.
But Regulus is just so sick of himself, so sick of not giving James everything he could possibly deserve.
So, from his recline on the bed, he blurts:
“I love you.”
James blinks. Regulus does too.
Then James is lighting up, smiling, and Regulus is scrambling to his feet, crashing into James who effortlessly catches him with a laugh.
Regulus peppers kisses wherever he can reach, frantically declaring his love over and over and over again against James’ salty skin. A dam has been broken and he can’t keep the words in any longer.
“I love you– I love you–I love you so f*cking much,” he babbles, and James’ peal of laughter sounds like the sweetest music.
James wraps his arms around him and hugs him so close it feels like his ribs might break, but Regulus just returns the embrace, blinking away tears of pure relief at finally having managed what he’s tried to express for so long.
“I love you, James Potter, so f*cking much,” he sniffles, hiding his face against the crook of James’ neck, slightly dizzy.
“I love you too, baby, so much,” James rasps, hugging him even closer. He’s still laughing intermittently, warm puffs of air against Regulus hair, and they sway a little where they stand, clutching at each other for a few moments longer.
So Regulus missed a lot of perfect moments over the past few weeks. Maybe he literally just missed another one. Big deal.
Perfect is clearly overrated.
***
“I’ll be back before you know it.” Regulus rolls his eyes, secretly pleased by James’ pout. He kisses it better and steps out of the door. “Honestly, we’re talking twenty minutes here.”
“That’s practically forever,” James sighs dramatically, leaning against the wall where Regulus left him.
Regulus bites back a smile and rolls his eyes again, ever so fond. “Just do your bloody workout and I’ll see you in a bit.” He closes the door behind him and puts his headphones on.
The walk to Sirius’ and Remus’ flat takes him far less time than when he and James meander over there.
So he might be lengthening his steps a little. What of it?
He lets himself in and calls out a greeting, but none echo in reply.
They must be out, Regulus thinks, and toes off his shoes. The weather has turned, and the mid-March sunshine is surprisingly warm, only requiring simple shoes and a light jacket over his (James’) hoodie.
Regulus hums under his breath and pads into his bedroom, which really is more like a true guestroom these days. He can’t recall the last time he slept there at this point. Still, he’s left some clothes in the dresser and he’s fairly certain that’s where his stupid fancy dress shirt is hiding.
He’s meeting James’ parents tomorrow and his anxiety has dangled the promise of calming down in front of him if he dresses his best and makes a good first impression. Regulus is used to his anxiety lying to him, but every little bit to calm his nerves will surely help at this point.
He’d felt so prepared to meet them, to be introduced as not only Sirius’ brother but James’ boyfriend, yet the closer the day grew, the more he’d begun panicking.
What if they don’t like him?
Contrary to what his current social circle looks like, Regulus is generally not considered a likable bloke. He’s honestly a bit gobsmacked he suddenly has so many people around who genuinely seem to want to spend time with him.
His most destructive inner thoughts even try to convince him James is only with him because he secretly harbours desires for Sirius and is just settling for the second best, which disturbs him so greatly that he vehemently pushes that sick thought away whenever it rears its ugly head.
But it just doesn’t make sense sometimes.
And what if James’ parents will see through everything the others haven’t yet? What if they’ll take one look at him, see what a miserable coward he is, and declare him unfit to date their wonderful son?
Would Sirius follow suit and start pulling away then, too?
Regulus groans as he rifles through the drawers, working himself into a bit of a state when he doesn’t immediately find the shirt.
If he can just f*cking find it–
In the far back of the drawer at the bottom, his fingers finally clench around the fabric, and he exhales harshly, knees slightly wobbly with relief.
He backs up, shirt firmly in his grasp, and flops down on the bed, breathing hard. His heart is racing, and he gulps down air, the room blurring slightly round the edges.
Gods, if he loses both James and Sirius over one disastrous meeting with Fleamont and Euphemia then–
Then–
Well, he’ll just–
Regulus buries his face in the shirt and fights to get his breathing under control.
It’s not working.
He fumbles for his phone and calls James.
He picks up on the second ring, sounding winded. “Hey baby, what’s up?”
“I–” Regulus gasps. “I think–panic–f*ck–”
“You did so well calling me, baby, now take a deep breath for me, yeah?” Like a switch, James’ voice is calm through the phone. “You’re safe, I’m right here, just breathe with me, sweetheart, that’s it.” He starts taking demonstratively deep breaths and Regulus tries to mirror them.
James keeps murmuring encouragements and endearments through the phone as they breathe together. Regulus whimpers and does his best, focusing on the sound of James’ voice and James’ breaths.
He’s shaking and he’s all too aware of his own heartbeat, but the edges steadily start to straighten back out and the rushing sound in his ears begins to recede.
“That’s it, love, you’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you. You’re safe, I’m right here, everything’s going to be okay.”
Regulus’ eyes start to burn, and he clutches the phone to his ear. “I’m–s-sorry,” he sniffles.
“Hey, now, none of that darling, I’m so proud of you for calling me, yeah? You did so well, just like we talked about.”
Regulus sniffs and dashes a fallen tear away. “Alright,” he whispers.
His muscles start to unclench the more time passes and eventually he manages to breathe properly again, his heart calming down.
“Your breathing is sounding much better now sweetheart, you did so good.”
“I love you,” Regulus says on an exhale, rubbing a hand down his face.
“I love you too, baby, how are you doing? Do you want me to come over?”
“No–I‘m–I’m fine, now. Thanks.” He gets to his feet, grabbing the shirt without looking at it, suddenly desperate to get back home (jesuschristwhatthef*ck) when the doorbell rings.
He jumps, curses, and shimmies a little to get the prickling rush of adrenaline off of him.
“Was that the door?” James asks.
“Mhm,” Regulus replies and pads into the hallway, still feeling twitchy and vulnerable from his panic attack. He doesn’t really want to open the door, but since neither Sirius nor Remus is home, he figures he probably should. Maybe they’re expecting some sort of delivery that came early or something.
“I’ll just see who it is,” he sighs into the phone, keeping it to his ear as he tugs the door open.
He blinks.
He doesn’t know how to make sense of what he’s seeing.
James is saying something, but he can’t hear it over the keening, broken, childish voice in his brain that he has worked so f*cking hard to repress.
The one calling out for his mummy.
“Maman?”
