Chapter Text
It is a fact of life that James Potter loves Sirius Black.
His hair is a mess, his eyes are brown, the sun rises, the sun sets, and James loves Sirius. Has done ever since they were shoved together at eleven in a dorm at their posh boarding school and told to play nice. It isn’t anything romantic; Sirius is, plain and simple, James’ brother. The other half of his soul, if you will.
James Potter loves Sirius Black.
And Sirius Black loves karaoke.
“FUCK YEAH, JAMES, I LOVE YOU!” Sirius hollers at the top of his lungs as James takes the tiny stage at the Three Broomsticks, resigning for the umpteenth time to prove his love by wailing into a mic he doesn’t want to even consider when it was last cleaned.
He goes first with only one drink in his system, just as he always does, because it makes Sirius happy.
“This one’s for you, Pads.” James points at his best friend, his brother, his soul mate, and grins at the theatrical swooning happening at their table.
The song begins, quite abruptly, and James sways absently to the melody, still grinning widely at the platonic love of his life.
I'm forever locking myself
In the glass of your rearview
Trying to make friends
With the friends you're close to
If you ever leave, I'm coming with you
He starts bobbing his head along to the beat, failing abysmally because he can’t really keep time with it, and points to Sirius again.
You know I'll do
Whatever you want me to
Throw a banquet in a mosh pit
Sirius clutches at his chest, eyes glittering underneath the dim lights of the pub, grin splitting his face from ear to ear, as he sings along to the lyrics, low enough not to disturb James’ serenade. Marlene has no such qualms and is shouting the lyrics at the top of her lungs. To be fair, though, she was the one who introduced the band to James and Sirius in the first place. Remus is merely looking fondly at the stage, neither singing nor laughing yet, while Dorcas sips her drink.
James performs the air-drums in the short ramp-up to the chorus, grinning widely.
And if you ever leave, I'm coming with you
Stuck to the gum that's stuck on your shoe
If you ever leave, I'm coming with you
James moves his hips, shaking now more than swaying, as he shouts into the mic when the song picks up the pace. He can see Dorcas laughing even if he can’t hear it over the music blaring from the speakers, and he winks at her.
He twirls a little, then blows a kiss to Remus. Sirius leans into James’ eyeline, obscuring Remus, and points with two fingers at first his own eyes, then James’, then back at his own. James misses a few lines due to laugher and has to actually stare at the screen to pick back up where he’s lost his way.
Am I losing you in the dark baby?
Am I losing you in the dark baby?
He croons into the mic, quite against the general vibe of the song, but Sirius beams at the endearment even while the girls giggle helplessly and Remus smiles.
The cheap spotlight overhead blinks out for a moment then turns back on, momentarily blinding James. When the spots clear from his vision and his eyes unerringly find his friends once more, he falters.
When Sirius told him that his younger brother, Regulus, would be joining them tonight, James hadn’t really given it much thought beyond finally!
He hasn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting his brother’s brother. Remus has met Regulus, and James has tried very hard not to be jealous of that fact. Honest. He hasn’t really succeeded in his endeavour, but the effort has been made!
Sirius isn’t looking at the stage anymore. Snapping back to attention, James clears his throat and keeps singing, the lyrics more automatic than heartfelt now.
So if you ever leave, I'm coming with you
Stuck to the gum that's stuck on your shoe
If you ever leave, I'm coming with you
Sirius stands up and throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders, squeezing tightly even as there’s some hesitation to the physical affection, stilted in its unfamiliarity. Regulus rolls his eyes, the motion clear even to James, then takes a seat after shrugging off his coat. Further greetings are apparently postponed because everyone’s attention is redirected back onto James’ performance.
Regulus, however, isn’t looking at James, instead fussing with his scarf and pulling it off in a way that makes James’ mind go strangely blank. He swallows, his mouth dry and his movements suddenly stiff. He focuses on Sirius again to shake it off.
Am I losing you in the dark baby?
Am I losing you in the dark baby?
Sirius' eyes, while mostly locked onto James, keep darting to where his brother sits next to him. James can’t really say for sure from where he’s strutting around on stage, but he thinks there’s a gentleness to Sirius’ smile that hadn’t really been there before Regulus showed up. Something soft that’s usually reserved for James or Remus or the girls, now turned onto a person that to James is a stranger.
If you ever leave me, I'm coming with you
If you ever leave me, I'm coming with you
The song eventually trails off, and there’s raucous applause from the few patrons aside from his friends that frequent the pub on this random Thursday. James can’t sing, any note he hits correctly is purely accidental, but he puts on a decent enough show. When Marlene wolf-whistles, he bows as gracefully as he can manage, and skips off the stage, eagerly drawn back to their table and to the newcomer.
As he nears, Regulus turns toward him.
And James halts.
Oh.
Oh.
Pretty
Pretty
Pretty.
Regulus’ eyes are stormy clouds and an overcast sky. They are quicksilver and dusky pearls, mercurial and cold, yet James has never felt so warm. His face is rather small, all sharp angles and clearly defined lines, from his jaw to his cheekbones to his lips but oh, how soft those pink lips look and oh how pretty he is, with his smooth black curls and small frown between perfectly shaped dark brows.
One of the brows arches and James realises he’s staring, quite blatantly.
He shakes himself, trying to get out of his stupor. Blinks.
The one brow is joined by the other, before they’re both lowered into a confusingly angry scowl.
“What?” Regulus snaps.
“Hi, sorry, hi,” James breathes, stumbling forward once more, hand reaching out. Touching, yes, oh, what a marvellous idea.
The distaste on Regulus’ face is so obvious that even James doesn’t miss it, but he does eventually grasp James’ outstretched hand, squeezes it, then quickly drops it as if burned. The ghost of Regulus’ grip makes James’ hand clench, and the thought not enough keeps bouncing around his (momentarily) empty skull.
“I’m James,” he blurts, eager to keep Regulus’ coldly gleaming eyes on him. Look at me, please keep looking at me.
“I figured,” Regulus mutters, then turns away.
He just…turns away.
James inhales sharply.
He wants to keen at the loss of Regulus’ attention.
But that would be even weirder than he’s already being, so James swallows the whine and resumes his seat instead, right next to Regulus (which he’s trying not to swoon about), dimly recognising that his friends are all looking quite intently at him. He could do without the suspicious glare Sirius is throwing his way.
He frowns, then shrugs. It’s not like he has an explanation other than look at the pretty boy.
“So who’s going next?” James asks, desperate to take the attention off himself for once in his life.
“We’re doing a duet.” Marlene grins and nudges her girlfriend. Dorcas rolls her eyes.
“Why did it have to be me?” Dorcas deadpans, the double meaning making Sirius laugh and Remus smile. Regulus hums quietly. James nods and takes a sip of his beer, desperately trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach at Regulus’ proximity.
He thinks he should be taking this moment to get to know the younger Black brother, yet his mere presence is apparently enough to reduce James into a quivering mess, desperate for just a single touch. It’s odd and new and exciting – and achingly familiar at the same time. But James doesn’t want to think about that, no thank you, because that way lies sadness and abandoned dreams and that’s something he generally saves for a far later hour and solitude if he thinks about it at all.
While Marlene and Dorcas get to their feet and approach the stage, James turns to Regulus. His profile is just as breathtaking as his front and James swallows the wistful sigh that threatens to escape his lips.
“Glad you decided to join us, Regulus,” he says, earnestly.
Regulus glares at Sirius. “Didn’t really have much of choice, did I?”
“Of course you did,” Sirius protests, raising his hands defensively, as if afraid Regulus might launch across the table at the slightest provocation. The thought of seeing something like that probably shouldn’t make James stomach clench in anticipation, should it?
“Ah yes, because ‘join us or find somewhere else to sleep tonight’ left so much room for interpretation.”
“Sirius!” Remus whips his head to his boyfriend and frowns.
“What? I didn’t mean it, I just–”
“Wait, you’re living with them?” James asks.
Finally, finally, Regulus looks at him.
Oh, hi, hello, there you are.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He tries to look away, he really does, but he simply…can’t. It’s rather confusing, however, as Regulus thus seems to be under the impression James is talking to him.
“Because I don’t know you?”
James blushes and waves a hand toward his best mates who clearly should’ve understood and jumped in before Regulus had the chance to answer.
“I was gonna,” Sirius mutters.
The girls have started to sing so the conversation is momentarily abandoned, and James reluctantly tears his gaze away from Regulus, heart thundering a tattoo against his ribs, almost too distracted by his presence to remember to be disappointed in Sirius for not sharing the fact that his estranged brother was living with him.
Sure, Sirius doesn’t owe James any information. But they’re best friends, brothers, soulmates! Yet all James has been told by Sirius is that Regulus cut ties with their parents about a month ago, and that the Black brothers were reconnecting in the wake of this – which, frankly, is huge since Sirius hasn’t been able to even mention Regulus’ name for years.
And, come to think of it, James hasn’t been over to Sirius’ and Remus’ flat for two weeks. Were they hiding Regulus?
Great, now he’s hurt his own feelings.
He sips his beer, then proceeds to hum along to the Abba-song. In a not-at-all shocking turn of events, Dorcas is the most enthusiastic up on stage, belting her heart out to the chorus. James laughs, then shivers as he could’ve sworn a puff of warm breath fans across his neck. He can feel the hairs raise in the wake of it, joined by the ones on his arms, and before he knows it his entire body shudders.
Oh, he’s rather fucked, isn’t he?
The girls finish the song and stumble back to the table, giggling, while the boys cheer and applaud.
“Brava!”
“Incredible!”
“Not too bad, actually.”
Remus rounds out the exclamations while Regulus remains silent.
Marlene reaches out and squeezes Remus shoulder with one hand, dashing away fake tears with the other. “Oh, Remus, you sure have a way with words.”
Remus makes a sound of amusement, low in his throat, and pats Marlene’s hand. “Only for you, dear.”
“Oi!” Sirius (who James is sure is only like fifty percent serious) pouts at his boyfriend’s words.
Without looking back at him, Remus calmly says, “You’re still my favourite, Padfoot.”
“Knew it,” Sirius says, smugly. Still not looking at him, Remus rolls his eyes. Dorcas snorts into her drink.
James, who would very much like to continue the discussion from before, clears his throat. But when he goes to speak, he can’t seem to form the words. He can’t figure out a way to make them non-accusatory, no matter how much he mulls it over, and he doesn’t want to start a fight.
He’s just…hurt.
And confused.
Sirius tells him everything. James knows for a fact what Sirius had for lunch today, how many dogs he’s seen and what he thinks about Remus’ jumper, because Sirius told him all this. They keep up a conversation throughout every single day, their texting like an outward stream of consciousness where no thought is too small, too big, or too weird.
And yet…
Sirius hasn’t told James about Regulus, aside from the bare minimum – that they’re talking again and trying to find their way back to each other after years, over a decade actually, of no contact. Sirius has told James how happy, and sad, and confused he is about it all, how desperate he is for a connection with his brother.
But he couldn’t be arsed to tell James that Regulus is staying with him?
With anyone else, it wouldn’t be a big deal. James wouldn’t be bothered if it had been, for instance, Remus whose estranged sibling suddenly moved in with them, because he and Remus have a different kind of relationship. James loves Remus fiercely, but they’re not the soulmates that James and Sirius are, that Remus and Sirius are in turn. Remus doesn’t tell James absolutely everything, and that’s okay, but Sirius always does and that makes this whole thing…not okay.
“…so the bus is actually fucking stuck and everyone is freaking out, and we all sort of collectively bombard the examination-people with emails and phone calls, but then they tell us that they can’t make exceptions!” Marlene throws her hands in the air, frustration evident on her face. “So now we’ll all be forced to fucking wait until the re-examination period in April to take the exam, and it wasn’t even our fault! I mean, if half the class is late because of the bloody bus then maybe allow for some wiggle room, and let us in anyway, but nooooo.”
Dorcas runs her fingers through the ends of Marlene’s short blonde hair, nodding along to the story, likely having already been subjected to the rant more than once if James knows Marlene correctly.
(And, well, he’s known Marlene for as long as he’s known Sirius, so he’s pretty sure he’s right.)
“What’re you taking?” At the sound of Regulus' question, James’ head swivels toward him automatically. Oh, what a lovely voice he has. James wonders if it’ll be just as lovely when he sings.
If he sings.
“I’m doing my masters in physiotherapy, actually,” Marlene informs him with a smile. She leans forward, elbows on the table. “What do you do, Baby Black?”
Regulus glares at her. “Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry,” Marlene says, quickly.
The glare disappears as swiftly as it appeared, his expression smooth, neutral, once more. “I’m also doing my masters, in linguistics.”
“Oh? Why linguistics”
Regulus shrugs. “We were forced to learn so many languages when we were kids that I just sort of…embraced the habit.”
Dorcas leans forward too, caught up in the conversation. “Wait, how many languages do you know?”
“Seven, including English.”
James’ mouth hangs open, quite against his will. “Seven?”
Regulus turns his head slightly, and James can feel himself, quite pathetically, perk up at his attention. “Yes.”
“Which ones?”
“English, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, Swedish and Norwegian.”
“Fuck, that’s…” Hot. “Impressive.”
“I kicked the habit after French and Spanish,” Sirius interjects, leaning into Remus’ side.
“Only three. I clearly fell for the wrong brother,” Remus sighs.
“Moony,” Sirius whines, turning his forehead into Remus’ neck. Remus chuckles and kisses the top of Sirius’ head.
“Why Swedish and Norwegian?” James asks, still trying to keep Regulus’ eyes on him, small intermittent shivers racing up and down his neck. “They’re a bit different to the rest, yeah?”
“That's why I chose them.” Regulus' lips twitch. Is– is that amusement? James’ heart does some sort of weird flutter at the thought.
“Don’t think I’ve ever heard Swedish spoken,” James muses, throwing any and every thought Regulus’ way. Keep looking at me, please, please, please.
“Nu har du det,” Regulus replies smoothly. The words flow together, the D’s clearly enunciated, his lips puckering slightly with every syllable.
James is slightly breathless when he asks, “What does that mean?”
“Now you have,” Regulus translates. And oh, that is amusement, one corner of his lips turning upwards just a little, his mercurial eyes gleaming.
“Say something else,” James entreats, eyes wide behind his glasses.
Regulus huffs, a sound halfway between laughter and exasperation, but he indulges James’ request. “Jag har väldigt svårt för att tolka dina ansiktsuttryck just nu.”
The cadence of his words is so different to how he speaks English, and James is suddenly convinced that Regulus barely has an English accent even when speaking a different language.
And that just does something to him.
It makes him squirm in his seat, makes him swallow, and blink, and inhale in small puffs that don’t nearly fill his lungs with enough oxygen. Perhaps that’s why he’s a little light-headed; being on the receiving end of Regulus’ voice makes it difficult to even breathe properly.
“Show-off,” Sirius sighs. Regulus turns toward him, arching a brow.
“You’re one to talk,” he shoots back.
“Don’t know what you’re on about,” Sirius sniffs.
“I have, easily, a million examples of you showing off.”
Sirius scoffs but as his friends start laughing, it’s clear he’s already lost the battle.
“No one likes a hypocrite, Sirius,” Regulus says, smug with his victory, leaning back further into his chair, then takes a sip of his drink. Sirius rolls his eyes then stands up.
“Whatever, I’m going up there now.” He gulps his cider down, salutes the table, then skips up to the stage.
As Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy starts playing, James finally tears his gaze from Regulus, settling it on his friend. He shoves his disappointment and confusion to the back of his mind, resolved to talk to Sirius about it later, and does his best to get lost in Sirius’ performance.
As usual, Sirius puts on one hell of a show. He trills, croons, and belts the lyrics, he dances and grins and tosses his long hair, all the while hitting every note perfectly. Regulus might be the language prodigy, but Sirius lives and breathes music. He’s captivating, mesmerizing, and James is thoroughly amused when he glances over at Remus to see him look hungry at the sight of his boyfriend commanding everyone’s attention as effortlessly as breathing.
Breathing rather becomes a chore for James, though, when Regulus leans in and mutters in his ear, “See, total show-off,” as Sirius flawlessly nails a high note. His breath is warm against James’ cheek, and smells faintly of mint and something sweet.
When James chuckles, it sounds strained to his own ears. He turns his head, ever so slightly so that he can catch Regulus’ expression out of the corner of his eye, and replies in a low voice, “Old news. I preferred the Swedish.”
Regulus even blushes prettily. Just a dusting of pink along his sharp cheekbones that makes James want to chase the warmth with his lips. To kiss, and nibble and suck at the skin that looks ever so soft, trailing further down until Regulus is positively covered in pink marks and bruises from James’ mouth.
...He’s going too fast again, isn’t he?
He probably shouldn’t flirt with his best friend’s brother. Shouldn’t be desperate to be noticed by him, and then lose his composure the moment Regulus affords him even a crumb of attention. Shouldn’t want the things he’s already yearning for. That way lies heartbreak; he knows this.
But when Regulus’ lips twitch into a sly smile, the first smile he’s shown, shouldn’t goes right out the window.
“Det här är nog en väldigt dålig idé, men jag verkar inte kunna hindra mig själv,” Regulus murmurs, swaying forward another few millimetres. ”I mitt försvar så var det du som började.”
James swallows, hard.
James doesn’t speak the language.
James doesn’t know Regulus, at all.
But he’s pretty sure that Regulus just flirted with him, too. His heart hammers a rhythm against his ribs out of tune with whatever Sirius is still fucking singing about, his lungs are seizing with the lack of air because he has forgotten to breathe because the pretty, pretty, pretty boy flirted with him and–
Regulus leans back as the song finally ends, spell broken, and James inhales. It’s a shuddering breath that rattles his whole body even as he tries to shake off whatever effect Regulus fucking Black has on him.
James blinks and applauds on pure instinct, because he knows to always applaud whenever Sirius graces the world with his singing. Hell, James would applaud for Sirius’ mere presence alone if Sirius wanted him to, simply because it is a fact of life that James Potter loves Sirius Black.
Even though Sirius has kept something from James over the past few weeks, which he’s never done before.
Even though James is ridiculously easily spellbound by the mere presence of Regulus Black.
Which Sirius would likely have opinions about.
“I’m just getting another drink,” James blurts, leaping to his feet as Sirius comes back to the table, momentarily terrified Sirius will be able to read his thoughts on his face.
“Get me one too, mate, I’m parched,” Sirius sighs dramatically, draping over his boyfriend. “I’ll accept adoration now, please and thank you.” Remus needs no further encouragement to stick his tongue down Sirius’ throat, even as James flees the scene.
Leaning on the bar, James tries taking deep breaths to calm himself. His hands are suspiciously clammy, and he keeps rubbing them off on his jeans, clearing his throat and nervously adjusting his glasses even though they haven’t (for once) slid down his nose. The bartender has abandoned their post momentarily, so he’s left to stand there waiting for a few minutes. Under the circumstances, this suits him just fine.
“You okay?”
James lets out the most undignified squawk he’s ever produced, whirling around to stare at Regulus.
Because who else, right?
“Fine,” he wheezes. Regulus tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing. His dark curls shift with the movement, a soft sliding to the side, and James is transfixed by the sight. He wonders what it would feel like to touch them, to run his fingers through them. To grip, and tug, and use to shift Regulus head a little as they–
James blinks.
...Yup. He’s fucked.
“You don’t seem fine,” Regulus presses.
“I’m perfectly alright,” James squeaks, his tone clearly contradicting his statement. He clears his throat and fires off a smile, making a conscious effort to relax. “Honest. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’m fine.”
Regulus stares at him, a long, searching look, then shrugs. “If you say so.”
Thankfully, the bartender has returned by then, so James orders his and Sirius’ drinks, then waves toward Regulus. “And whatever he’s having.”
“Just a Coke, please,” Regulus says, his tone polite. As they wait for their drinks, James turns to Regulus, whose eyes are flickering over the fridges behind the bartender, seemingly cataloguing their contents for lack of other things to do.
“Did Sirius really threaten you to get you to come hang out with us tonight?” The words are out before he’s made the decision to speak.
Regulus sighs. “Yes.”
James scrunches his nose. “I’m sorry. I’m sure he didn’t really mean it.”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “Of course he didn’t mean it.” That faint look of amusement is back on his face when he glances at James. “But the mere fact that he threatened me suggested it was important to him. Apparently, he wanted me to meet his friends.”
James can’t help the grin splitting his face. “Sounds like Sirius. And what do you think of us, then?”
“Too soon to tell.” He shrugs. “Marlene and Dorcas seem alright.”
James’ heart is pounding when he bravely asks, “And me?”
Regulus hums noncommittally, grabs his Coke and simply…leaves.
James watches him walk away. Watches him return to his seat. Watches him enter a conversation with Dorcas, watches as Marlene throws her head back in laughter in response to something Regulus says, and watches as Sirius looks at his brother with a fond expression, warmth in his eyes. His eyes that are so similar to Regulus’, but so very, very different. James has never, ever, entertained any desires to drown in Sirius’ eyes the way he does Regulus’. Has never, not once, looked at Sirius the way he knows he’s staring at Regulus.
James pays for the drinks in a daze, nods his thanks to the bartender and slowly walks back to the table.
His behaviour isn’t sustainable. He knows that. He can’t be this distracted by Regulus all evening, it’s just not on.
So what if Regulus is, arguably, the most beautiful boy he’s ever laid eyes on? So what if his voice is melodious and lovely? So what if his breath is warm and smells of sweetness and James wants to swallow it deep into his own lungs?
James can’t lose his head over Sirius’ brother, and it’s rather pathetic that he can’t really concentrate on anything else just because of Regulus’ proximity. He’s been around beautiful people before, has even dated a few, and sure, he was this pathetic with Lily too, but he’s older now, wiser, has learnt from the pitfalls of falling head over heels by first glance. He needs to get a grip. And not of Regulus, he tells himself, sternly.
Resolved, he sits down and slides the drink over to Sirius. “Here ya go, Pads.”
“My hero,” Sirius coos.
“Anything for you, love,” James coos right back and winks.
“Please stop being disgusting,” Marlene pleads.
“Disgusting? That’s awfully homophobic of you,” James snorts.
“Our love is not disgusting,” Sirius sniffs.
“Not for lack of trying,” James says with a wistful sigh and a leer.
“We’ll run away together when Moony dies, Prongs,” Sirius assures him, batting his eyelashes.
James clutches at his chest and sighs again. “Oh how I yearn for Moony’s inevitable death.”
“So do I,” Remus deadpans.
“Moony,” Sirius gasps, horrified as if he wasn’t the one to bring it up in the first place. “Please don’t talk about your death like that!”
James wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, I’m gonna need to backtrack on that too actually. Keep him, Moony, whatever you need as long as you stay alive.”
“If you insist,” Remus sighs, but he’s smiling.
“You’re ridiculous,” Regulus mutters, so quietly it might as well be to himself. James hears it, though, and grins at him, slightly more at ease.
“Makes life more fun,” James says agreeably. “Imagine how dull it’d be if I couldn’t express my love for these idiots.”
“I’m feeling a little left out, actually, but I don’t really want to be lumped into the idiots,” Marlene says thoughtfully, tilting her head.
“Oh Marlene, beautiful, darling Marlene, let’s run away together right now so that Sirius will miss me even more.” James leans over the table, grabbing her hand, still grinning.
“I would, James, but you’ve got a little too much penis for my tastes,” Marlene says solemnly, patting his hand.
“Plans foiled by my incorrect genitalia once again,” James sighs, head swivelling toward Dorcas. “Dorcas? You, me, the open road, whaddaya say?”
Dorcas sips her drink. “I’m good.”
“Poor Prongs,” Sirius coos. James nods.
“Woe is me,” he agrees, slumping back in his chair. He sort of wants to include Regulus in the joke, but since it would hit a little too close for comfort to James’ actual wishes, he refrains.
He’s getting wiser in his old age.
He’ll probably be a genius when he hits thirty in a few years.
“Right, who’s next?” Sirius asks after a beat.
Marlene rolls her eyes. “Give us a mo to forget your performance first.”
“It was rather good, I suppose,” Sirius muses haughtily.
“People who can actually sing shouldn’t be allowed to do karaoke,” Dorcas declares emphatically. “It makes the rest of us look bad. Which is sort of the whole point, but not like you do it.”
“Hey!” Sirius sits up straighter from where he’s been leaning into Remus.
It’s a familiar argument that they have in one iteration or another every time they go out (which is often), so James doesn’t bother getting involved as they start to bicker. He quite likes it when Sirius sings, and he’s not bothered by his own lack of talent. It’s just a laugh – who cares if he’s pants at it? Sirius enjoys it, and James enjoys making Sirius happy, which makes it a win-win situation as far as he’s concerned.
“–if you’re all too scared, I’m sure Reggie could measure up.” Sirius is looking at his brother now, one eyebrow raised as he issues the challenge.
Regulus, however, is not so easily baited. He rolls his eyes.
“Of course I could,” he says, calmly, sipping his Coke.
...Fuck, really?
“Well, it’s no fun coming to karaoke night if you’re not gonna sing,” James says carefully, heart thumping. Oh, how he hopes Regulus will fall to peer pressure. He’s actually a bit taken aback at the level of desperation he’s experiencing to hear Regulus sing on stage. Even if he’s somehow terrible, James just wants the excuse to stare blatantly at him and listen to his voice for however long the song goes on.
“Not happening,” Regulus says, still so calmly. They all take turns pleading with him to change his mind, but Regulus is seemingly unaffected by their badgering. Eventually, Remus is the one to bite the bullet instead and drags himself over to the stage.
“Coward,” James whispers to Regulus. Regulus breath hitches, minutely.
When he answers, his voice is soft and sounds just a tiny bit brittle, “I know.”
James frowns, turning his head. “Hang on, really? You’re scared?”
Regulus avoids his gaze. “Mhm. Strutting about on stage in front of complete strangers isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”
“Oh.” He gentles his voice. “I understand. Might be a bit therapeutic, though. Just to sing, I mean. You don’t really need to do a whole show of it.”
Regulus tilts his head, eyes meeting James’ once more.
Regulus is…difficult to read. Sure, there are the obvious things, like when his lips twitch into a small, barely noticeable smile, or he blushes a little, but it’s actually quite challenging to make out what he might be thinking. James therefore can’t tell if Regulus would respond well to more needling, or if he’s really sick of everyone butting in.
“Therapeutic,” Regulus repeats quietly, tasting the word even as he meets James’ gaze head on. The seconds tick by. Then he sighs, and says, “How would I even pick a song?”
James works extremely hard to wrestle his burst of excitement under control. He can’t stop the wide smile, though. “Well, just pick a song you like, or something you usually sing to yourself anyway, or something that fits your state of mind.”
Regulus swallows, his throat bobbing, their eyes still locked together. “My state of mind.”
“Yeah.”
Please let it be a cheesy love song.
“What if I don’t want anyone to know that?”
“Then just pick something generic,” James says gently. And oh, when he’s this close he can actually see it working, can see Regulus weighing his options, can see his resolve not to sing falter – it’s all there in his gleaming silver eyes, in how he bites the inside of his bottom lip, and how he quietly blows out a shaky breath.
Regulus is difficult to read, but James is not the type to back down from a challenge.
“I – mostly listen to Swedish music nowadays,” Regulus murmurs. He breaks their eye-contact momentarily, looking over at Remus who’s in the middle of a rendition of The prettiest star, clearly serenading his boyfriend in his deep voice. This works in James’ favour, he suspects, because Sirius can definitely be counted on to be watching Remus with stars in his eyes and mouth watering, and therefore won’t notice how similarly James is looking at Sirius’ younger brother.
James’ heart thumps as he suggests, “Then sing something in Swedish.”
Regulus’ nose scrunches, so minutely James almost misses it. “Won’t that be weird?”
“Not at all, I’m sure it’ll be–“, hot, so very, extremely hot, positively scorching, “–cool.”
Regulus eyes return to James’, and it’s like James has been dunked in gasoline then lit on fire with the careless flick of a match.
“Cool,” Regulus repeats, thoughtfully. A small smile creeps onto his lips and James is burning, burning, burning at the sight. “I guess we’ll see.”
James clears his throat and returns the smile, then turns forward toward Remus, staring unseeingly.
Fucked, fucked, oh so very fucked you are.
***
The evening progresses, as evenings are wont to do, despite James’ minor crises every time he trades looks or words with Regulus. He can feel Sirius’ searching gaze on him several times, but neither of them mentions it for the first couple of hours and James pretends that nothing’s amiss the few times their eyes meet after James blushes or struggles to breathe because of Regulus.
Not that Sirius is convinced – he’s seen it all before.
When Regulus excuses himself to the bathroom sometime around nine, James resolutely avoids Sirius gaze, and tries to give off the impression he’s lost in whatever Marlene and Dorcas are bickering light-heartedly about at the moment. His ruse fails when they start snogging and he has to look away if he wants to avoid being branded a pervert.
“Prongs, I’m getting a smoke. Come with?” Sirius gets to his feet and his tone doesn’t really leave any room for refusal.
“But it’s cold out,” he tries, anyway. Sirius arches a brow.
...Okay, so if he didn’t know something was up before, he certainly does now; James never denies Sirius his presence without an extremely good reason, and rarely even then.
James curses his own idiocy and reluctantly gets to his feet.
He puts his coat on and trails after Sirius as they leave the pub, ending up right outside where Sirius lights a cigarette. He inhales deeply, then lets the smoke go in a thick plume, wafting away in the chilly night air.
It’s the end of January with February just around the corner, and while there isn’t currently any snow on the ground it’s definitely cold and dark enough that the outside is generally to be avoided at any cost. James shoves his hands in his pockets and exhales, his breath mimicking the clouds of smoke Sirius continually creates.
To James’ surprise, he actually breaks the tentative silence first. “Why didn’t you tell me, Pads?”
He doesn’t have to specify what he means.
“I was gonna.” The words are the same as they had been earlier in the evening, but softer now. James waits for Sirius to continue, leaning back against the brick façade of the pub, until he eventually does. “I just…I don’t know.” He sounds frustrated and stubbornly stares right ahead. “Look, I want to tell you everything about it, I do, but – maybe right now isn’t the best time.” He runs a hand through his long hair. Hair that’s the same colour as Regulus’ but kept far longer.
James makes a low sound, a short hum. “Tomorrow?”
Sirius takes another drag of the cigarette, smoke pluming around his face as he exhales, “Yeah. Tomorrow.” He turns his head, finally looking at James. “And maybe we can discuss the way you keep looking at him then, too.”
James clears his throat, trying to not squirm as he pushes off the wall behind him. He doesn’t betray their history, their relationship spanning well over a decade, by attempting a lie.
Sirius was there when James tripped all over himself the first time he laid eyes on Lily, and Sirius was there when James chased her fruitlessly for five years. Sirius was there for the six years James had with Lily, and Sirius was there when it ended two years ago. Sirius has been there through everything and will be for the rest of their lives, just like James will for him.
So, no, he doesn’t lie because they just don’t do that to each other. There’s no point.
He sure wishes he could keep lying to himself, though.
“Yeah, tomorrow,” James echoes quietly.
Sirius nods and finishes his cigarette, putting it out with the heel of his boot, and then they head back inside.
“About time!” Marlene hollers as they resume their seats. “Reggie’s just announced he’s singing; you almost missed it!”
James turns his head, smiling at Regulus who’s glaring daggers at Marlene.
“I didn’t announce anything,” he hisses.
“Yes you did,” Marlene argues.
“I just said I might give it a go.”
Dorcas snorts. “That’s a ‘yes’ if I ever heard one.”
Regulus turns his glare on her instead, but before he can say something, James nudges him with his elbow. “Need any help picking a song?”
Regulus slumps back into his chair with a sigh, still scowling at Dorcas. “No. You already did.”
“A Swedish one?”
Regulus rolls his eyes. He does that a lot, James thinks. “Yes.”
He nudges Regulus with his elbow again, earning himself the scowl. “Go on, then. I wanna hear it.”
Desperately.
Regulus exhales sharply through his nose as he meets James’ eye. Then he gives a curt nod and gets to his feet. Marlene cheers, joined by Sirius, and James beams at Regulus’ retreating back.
“I can’t believe it,” Sirius murmurs to Remus, James can only just make out the words. He sees Remus gently squeeze Sirius’ hand with a small smile.
He turns his head forward again, hungrily drinking in the sight of Regulus as he takes the stage. Regulus trades words with the person in charge – it’s Carl tonight –, who nods and then proceeds to find the song while Regulus picks up the mic. He stands there, mic in hand, gaze avoiding the small crowd, merely staring at the ground as he waits.
James takes deep breaths, trying to calm his heart as it fights to clamber out of his chest and throw itself at Regulus’ feet. The cheap spotlight angled towards the stage makes his raven curls gleam where they fall just to his ears and over his forehead, and his pale skin has a pearlescent shimmer to it from the bright light.
As he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, James is struck by the thought that Regulus looks ethereal, like one of the ancient fae out of storybooks, and he knows he would’ve easily fallen prey to Regulus had he shown up in the woods to try and lure him away.
And then, the song suddenly begins, and Regulus sings.
När jag tvivlar, skyller jag på andra
När vi bråkar, skyller jag på dig
När jag blundar vill ja va nån annan
Det är stort, om du förlåter mig
And it’s just not fair. It’s not fair that Regulus' voice is soft, and lovely, and so easy to get lost in that James fears he already has. It’s not fair that every tone is perfect and clear, that every inhale and exhale Regulus makes forces James to confront what he doesn’t bloody want to.
But he doesn’t really have the choice anymore, does he?
Men nu gömmer jag mig här
bakom drömmen om en stund
en liten blund
där inga tankar står och bankar
om i vilken dörr jag slet
om vilka ord jag valde
när jag sa nej men ville mer
This is tumbling to the ground with skinned knees, glasses flying off his nose, at the sight of someone beautiful and magnetic all over again. This is falling, and chasing, and yearning, and wishing so deeply for a future that never comes to pass, just like before. This is also comfort, and excitement, and awe, because this is eerily reminiscent of way James felt at eleven at the first glimpse of Lily Evans, and this is what persisted for eleven years. What he’s only gotten over during the past two.
And he’s not ready yet.
He’s not ready for that particular heartache that makes him cry himself to sleep, that suffocates him with longing for someone he cannot have, that carves out a piece of him that’s left forever empty when they inevitably leave because he’s too much and not enough at the same time.
He’s not ready.
But there he sits, eyes glued to the beautiful boy with hair made of ink, listening to his siren song and knows he’s setting sail straight into the storm again whether he’s ready for it or not. All aboard the Heartbreak, captained by one James Potter, rushing through the water straight ahead into the inevitable capsize at the cliffside of one Regulus Black. James is already drowning anyway, but at least he’ll get to do it with Regulus looming over him – a small comfort when James is tossed off the ship into the whirlpool and dragged underneath the surface.
He hopes the journey will be worth it. He hopes he won’t be alone for years to come as no one else compares to the one closing his eyes during what seems to be the chorus, as James waits for the chance to prove that he can be just enough; not too much and not too little.
Regulus' fingers tremble at his side as the piano plays, a small interlude, before he inhales, voice rising once more.
Minnena blir mindre när man ser dom från håll
löftena jag brutit har förbrukat min roll
Hoppas det blir bättre om jag säger förlåt
Önskar du var arg men jag ser bara gråt
He trails off in a near whisper before rising back slightly into the chorus, and James feels oddly choked up, a lump in his throat that he keeps swallowing around. He raises one hand to his cheek but doesn’t detect any tears despite being so sure he would.
His friends cheer around him as Regulus eventually makes his way back to their table, and James is suddenly gripped by the feeling that he hasn’t had enough time yet. His limbs twitch with the desire to take off running, to flee and leave all disturbing realisations in the dust. To turn his back on everything Regulus Black already forces him to feel and confront, and just run and run and never stop.
But, well…
James is not the type to back down from a challenge.
So he quells the tremors in his body, he wrangles his breathing back under control, and he ignores the hammering of his heart. He shoves any and all thoughts of Lily into the back of his mind, and he resolves to remain in the moment, because dwelling on what might or might not happen in the future is pointless. He’s learned that much, at least, as he’s gotten older.
He just – forgets, sometimes.
“I didn’t understand a single word, but you sounded incredible!” Marlene beams at Regulus as he resumes his seat next to James.
“You really did,” Dorcas agrees. Remus nods emphatically.
“Runs in the family,” Sirius announces, like it’s all his doing that Regulus also has incredible musical talent. For some reason, Regulus won’t meet his brother’s eye, and James is intensely curious about why that is.
“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll stop pestering me now,” Regulus mutters, a small blush colouring his cheeks as he reaches out for his drink, gulping the dregs of it down.
“No way – you’ll just have to pick something we can understand next time,” Marlene decides.
“I liked the Swedish,” James admits. I just want to hear your voice, is what he wants to add but wisely refrains, because he has gotten wiser – honest.
Regulus glances at him, and James can see the blush spread a little, down to the smooth skin of his cheeks. And oh, how James wishes he could trace it with his lips. Instead, he clears his throat and checks his phone for the time without seeing what it says. “Much as I’d love to stay, I really should get going. Work tomorrow.”
Sirius boos, much like he always does when James brings up what Sirius likes to call his adult job. James laughs but gets to his feet anyway. To his surprise, Regulus follows his lead.
“I’ve a lecture in the morning,” he says, eyes narrowed on Sirius. He reaches out a hand. “My key.”
“Oh, Sirius,” Remus sighs, shaking his head disappointedly. “You took his key?”
“Yeah, well, only way to make the little bugger come out with us, wasn’t it?” Sirius shrugs – more at ease with his earlier deceptive threat with a few drinks in his system – and digs around in the pockets of his ripped jeans for a small, unassuming key attached to a fuzzy keychain of nauseating neon yellow. He drops it in Regulus’ outstretched hand, his bright grin in stark contrast with the clear look of disgust on Regulus’ face.
James and Regulus shoulder on their coats in a strange sort of tandem that makes James' stomach flutter, and James hugs his friends goodbye, one by one, while he catches Regulus fuss with his scarf out of the corner of his eye. Sirius is last, and their hug lasts just a little bit longer than any of the others.
“Tomorrow?” Sirius murmurs in James’ ear.
“Tomorrow,” James agrees quietly.
They squeeze each other a final time, loudly proclaiming how much they love each other and that they’ll dream of the other to their friends’ laughter, then James manoeuvres away and salutes Remus and the girls.
“Until next time, lovelies,” he says, lips split in a wide grin, and he waves at them over his shoulder as he and Regulus turn to leave, side by side.
They emerge outside in silence, and James inhales deeply of the crisp night air. Neither of them speak as they turn onto the street that leads home. James will have to turn right in roughly five minutes at a fork in the road, while Regulus will continue to the left toward Sirius’ and Remus’ flat.
But, for now, they still have a little bit of time, and James wants to make the most of it.
“Underhanded threats aside, I’m glad you came out tonight,” he says.
Regulus exhales sharply through his nose, undeniably a sound of amusement, and his warm breath creates a tiny cloud in the cold air. James is gripped by the absurd notion that he should disperse it, wave it away so that nothing obscures Regulus’ beautiful features.
But, well, older and wiser and all that jazz.
“It wasn’t…terrible,” Regulus mutters eventually. Their steps, taken in synchrony on the pavement, echo between the buildings towering over them on either side. A car appears, the engine revving overly loud for the late hour on a weeknight, and James glares fruitlessly at the driver’s inconsiderate act as the car speeds past before turning back to Regulus.
“I’ll take it,” James smiles. “Maybe next time, we’ll even upgrade it to not bad.”
Regulus turns his head, one eyebrow arched. “What makes you so sure there’ll even be a next time?”
“Because I’ll accept nothing else, obviously.”
“I guess I can see why you and Sirius have always gotten along. You’re both ridiculously stubborn.”
“Oh, you haven’t even seen stubborn yet,” James teases. “But you’re not wrong, we do have a lot in common. Always have, I suppose. Honestly, considering how long we’ve been knocking about, it’s pretty weird you and I haven’t met before.”
Would everything have been different if they had? Would James have been torn between Lily and Regulus? He doesn’t know, and frankly, he doesn’t like the thought. It feels dishonest, somehow, or like the comparison between Lily and Regulus minimizes the impact either of them has had on him, however lasting or fleeting.
Besides, it’s not like there was any opportunity for it, anyway, after Sirius left the Black family home behind at fourteen.
“Yeah. Weird.” Regulus shoves his hands deeper into his coat pockets and burrows his nose into his scarf. His eyes glitter in the light from the streetlamps and his cheeks are pinched pink with cold already.
“Well, better late than never,” James says after a beat of silence, aiming for jovial but his voice comes out far too soft. Regulus hums in reply.
James wants to slow his pace, to shorten his strides so that they can have just a little more time, but he can already see the fork up ahead and the sight of it makes his stomach sink. He’s not ready yet, doesn’t want to say goodnight to Regulus and leave it up in the air when he can talk to him next, doesn’t want to wonder when he can sidle close and bask in the warmth of his presence again.
“Hey, Regulus?”
“Mhm?”
This time, he makes the conscious effort to regulate his tone, and he sounds happy, carefree when he asks, “Can I have your number?”
He sees Regulus' steps falter when he glances at him, trying to see how the request lands.
Regulus' head swivels to the side, facing James, his eyes narrowed in clear suspicion. “Why?”
James snorts, affecting an air of nonchalance, like his heart isn’t pounding double time in his chest. “Because I want it, obviously.”
Regulus abruptly stops walking. James is forced to double back a step when he misses it. They’re standing face to face now, James almost a head taller, and Regulus is staring up at him like he can pick him apart with a mere look. Like he can dig into James’ head through his eyes and sift through his thoughts, fluttering from one to the other like a hummingbird, like he wants to know and is halfway through figuring out just how not unaffected James is and how extremely important it is to James in that moment to get Regulus’ number.
“Fine,” he says, slowly. He removes one hand from his pocket and waves it a little in impatience. “Your phone.”
James can’t help the wide smile that appears with Regulus’ acquiescence. He fishes out his phone, unlocks it and hands it over. Regulus frowns at the background while he tugs off his glove. It’s a picture of James and Sirius in their school uniforms, arms around each other with Hogwarts behind them, making faces at the camera. They’re fifteen in the picture and their hair is in equal horrendous shades of spotty yellow after a prank gone wrong – or right, to hear Remus tell it, since he was the one who’d dribbled hair bleach into their communal shampoo – and they look so stupid that it always makes James smile when he sees it.
Regulus' thumb hovers over the screen for a moment longer, his face suspiciously blank, like he’s made an effort to wipe it clean, before he proceeds to add his number into James’ contacts. He returns the phone and James immediately fires off a text.
James
Testing xx
21.29
He looks up at Regulus, grinning. “Well?”
Regulus sighs, but there’s a small smile in the corner of his mouth, as he brings forth his own phone and turns it around, showing James’ text on the generic lockscreen. It didn’t make any sound, but there it is, plain as day.
“Brilliant,” James declares, still grinning. He really can’t stop.
“Did you seriously think I’d give you a fake number?”
James narrows his eyes, tapping his chin with a finger in mock-contemplation. “You know, I honestly couldn’t say. You do seem the type.”
Regulus rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it. Instead, his smile widens a fraction, and James’ heart skips a beat at the sight.
He’s just so lovely, it’s really not fair.
“Well, you have mine now too, so I fully expect a text letting me know you’ve made it home safely,” James says as they start walking again.
Regulus scoffs. “I most definitely will not be doing that.”
“Oh c’mon, please?”
“Jesus – why would I?”
“Because I’ll worry otherwise,” James wheedles, bumping Regulus lightly with his elbow.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Guilty. Please don’t make me worry about you all night, Regulus.”
“Not even Sirius makes me text him stuff like that.”
“Well, Sirius will be able to find you safe and sound at home later, won’t he? Since I don’t have that luxury, I think a text should be adequate compensation under the circumstances.”
James comes to a halt where their paths are meant to diverge, wishing they wouldn’t.
“Careful with the big words, don’t want to hurt yourself.”
“Regulus.” And there it is, the whine James has been so good about not letting out all evening.
So close.
For some reason, it makes Regulus laugh. A startled sound, wrenched from him, that makes James’ entire body light up, every single nerve firing on all frequencies as the melody of Regulus’ laughter jolts down his spine, pooling at the bottom, settling in his very bones.
“Fine,” Regulus relents, still chuckling softly under his breath. And James just, well – he beams. His cheeks practically ache with the width of his smile.
“Brilliant! Okay – just – brilliant.”
On pure impulse, he lunges forward, brimming and spilling over with joy, and wraps his arms around Regulus. He gets a face full of curls that smell of pine and winter, the January night air clinging to the silky tresses, and he inhales deeply in his shock at suddenly having Regulus so close, his cold nose poking at the hollow of James’ throat. Regulus is stiff in his embrace, and James quickly lets go, mortified by his own actions.
“Fuck, sorry, I didn’t – I just –”
“It’s fine,” Regulus says, awkwardly. “Don’t – don’t worry about it.”
James laughs, because he might cry otherwise at his own stupidity, and takes another step back. “Right, yeah, well – sorry, didn’t mean to ambush you like –”
“James. It’s fine.” He’s scowling, and James laughs again, a weirdly strangled sound.
“Right. Brill. I’ll uh – see you later, yeah? Text me!” Before he can do anything else monumentally moronic, he fires off a shaky smile and turns around, hurrying away.
It’s another five-minute walk until he gets home, and he spends the entire way berating himself, while simultaneously replaying the spontaneous moment in his head.
He’d actually lost his mind tonight, hadn’t he?
Sure, in the grand scheme of things, a hug isn’t a big deal. James loves hugging – he doles them out easily without a second thought, and he adores physical affection. But he’s also spent the entire evening watching Regulus more intently than was probably wise and has reached the conclusion that Regulus is not the type of person who necessarily enjoys hugging. An elbow to the side is one thing, wrapping him in an involuntary embrace is quite another, and James groans at the thought that he’s made Regulus thoroughly uncomfortable with his own lack of impulse-control.
Too much, too much, too much.
The thought keeps bouncing around his skull as he lets himself inside his apartment. It continues as he shrugs off his coat, toes off his shoes and tosses his scarf and gloves on the dresser. It persists as he gulps down a glass of water, then another, and as he gets ready for bed. It sticks around as he slides under the covers and heaves a heavy sigh, plugging the charger into his phone.
It finally quiets when he sees a text waiting for him.
Regulus
I’m home. In one piece and everything.
21.47
James
Thank you!
Goodnight xx
21.47
Regulus
Night
21.47
When he falls asleep, the only thought in his head is of Regulus.