Chapter Text
CODE BLACK: YEAR ONE
"Welcome to New York. It's been waiting for you..."
* * *
June 2015, New York City
James
“Okay, last question.”
James and Sirius lock eyes across the dissection table and share an imperceptible smile. After two straight semesters of lectures, late night study sessions, grueling exams, and meticulous dissection of the cadaver on their table, only one question stands between them and the last real summer of their lives.
Frank gestures to the cadaver’s shoulder and continues, “List the five roots of the brachial plexus.”
James can’t help breaking into an actual smile and watches as Sirius fails to suppress a laugh, both of them turning to Peter at the same time. “Oh, Wormtail, this is all you,” Sirius chuckles.
“Sure,” Peter starts, doing a better job of keeping a poker face than his two friends. “C5, C6, C7, C8, and T1.”
“Excellent, student doctor Pettigrew. And the five terminal branches?”
“Really, Frank?” snorts James, under his breath. “Oh, I’m sorry, I mean student doctor Longbottom.”
“James, come on, these table conferences are supposed to be serious, and—”
“No I’m supposed to be—”
“I swear to god, Sirius, I will fail your entire dissection table, and then all four of you will be taking remedial Gross Anatomy over the summer.” There’s a sharp glint in Frank’s eye, but James knows that he would never actually steal their last free summer away from them, especially when they haven’t gotten a single question wrong on an anatomy exam all year.
Remus clears his throat. “I think what James meant to say was: musculocutaneous, median, ulnar, axillary, and radial.”
“Correct, student doctor Lupin.”
“Nice one, Moony.”
Frank picks up the red marking pen but stops just before writing down their score. “Ah wait, I almost forget. Since this is the last exam of the year, Professor Binns is offering one final question for a bonus point.”
“Hit me,” Sirius smiles.
“Okay. What is the name of the injury to the upper trunk of the brachial plexus that occurs most commonly during childbirth?”
Oh shit. James watches as Sirius’s smile falters, because they didn’t study this. To be fair, learning about specific illnesses and injuries is not part of the curriculum at Mungo’s until second year, and it’s just a bonus point they absolutely don’t need. But James knows this is going to bug Sirius for the rest of the day (possibly for the rest of the summer) since they were so close to getting through this course without missing a single exam question.
Sirius glances around at James, Peter, and finally Remus, who gives a small shrug and shakes his head.
“Ah, too bad.” Frank clicks his tongue. “I’m sure you’ll look it up later.” He sets down their exam sheet, with the score 25/25 written at the top and walks away smiling. James watches as he crosses the anatomy lab and puts one arm around his girlfriend, who by the looks of it has just finished the exam she was administering as well.
“Bummer, student doctor Black,” says a teasing voice from the next table over. Mary flashes the group a bright smile while sliding over their own exam sheet, a large red 26/25 at the top. “You know, if you and James didn’t have separation anxiety issues and you’d kept Lily at your table, you wouldn’t have missed the bonus point.”
“Erb’s Palsy,” Lily adds with a wink. “There, saved you some time looking it up.”
“You are so not invited to our end of year party, Evans,” Sirius says with a huff.
“Oh, please. James would never uninvite us. Would you, James?”
James looks back at Sirius sheepishly. “Sorry, bud.” Lily and Mary quietly giggle and follow the rest of their anatomy group out of the lab. Peter and Remus share a look and then immediately burst out laughing.
Peter starts, “Oh come on, Sirius, it’s not that—”
“If you say serious…”
“Okay, sorry, no pun intended, but really it’s not. Come on—that was our last exam. We made it! The last summer of our lives!”
“Hey, I intend to live past my twenties, thank you very much,” laughs James.
“No, come on, you know what I mean. The last real summer where we have actual vacation with no responsibilities or rotations. It’s going to be epic.”
“Speak for yourself,” says Remus. “You know, some of us have to actually work this summer to be able to afford to live in the city.”
“I know, right?” Sirius replies indignantly. “Fucking trust fund kids.”
Remus rolls his eyes but smiles as he pulls the cover gently over their cadaver and flicks his exam gloves into the trash can. No one points out that Sirius was the only real, actual trust fund kid among them before everything happened with his family. He doesn’t like to talk about it these days, not even to James.
“Anyway,” Sirius continues, “you don’t have to work at the bookstore this summer. Just do what I do and take out more student loans.”
“Oh sure,” says Remus. “I’ll definitely start taking advice on financial responsibility from you. What was it you did with your last loan check? Something very responsible, I recall…”
“Hey, motorcycles are a great investment. And eco-friendly.”
“A great… investment?” Remus snorts.
“Hey, I’ll have you—”
“Oh stop bickering, you two,” James cuts in. “We’re going to be the last ones out of the lab at this rate. Help me pack up so we can get home and focus on things that are actually important. Like planning the best post-exam party of our lives.” James feels a rush of adrenaline as he remembers Lily implying that she would indeed be making an appearance at this party. He's been trying unsuccessfully to convince her to come to one of their parties for the better part of the year, but he just has a feeling that today is going to be different. Special. Important.
Sirius snaps James right out of his reverie by smacking him hard on the back of his hand. “Oh my god, James, stop sneaking the fucking towel clips into your bag! For the last time, that is so disgusting.”
“What? No it isn’t! They didn’t even touch the cadaver—plus, I always sterilize them. And they’re amazing, I use them for everything.”
“What’s Lily going to think,” Sirius retorts, “when she shows up at the party and finds your chip bags are sealed shut with nasty used towel clip prongs?”
James feels another tingle of nerves and makes a mental note to move the chip bags in question out of the pantry. Just to be safe.
~~~
Sirius is still grumbling as the four of them push open the doors to the student housing building across the street from St. Mungo’s School of Medicine. “I just… future surgeons don’t miss questions in Gross Anatomy.”
“Don’t be stupid,” says Peter. “It wasn’t even part of the curriculum. Frank just wanted to be a typical second year and put us in our place. Anyway, Erb’s palsy isn’t even a surgical problem.”
They all file inside and wait together for the elevator to reach the lobby. It’s a tall building, as they all tend to be on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, with the same old red brick and green awning as the rest of the hospital. Even though they’ve been living here for almost a year, the view once they get to their apartment still takes James’ breath away. He is no stranger to sweeping views of Manhattan, having grown up right across the river in Brooklyn, but there’s just something about looking down directly over Central Park that feels a little bit like magic.
Even though his family is well off these days, James would never be able to afford an apartment like this if it weren’t part of student housing at the hospital. This is quite literally a million-dollar view. An Orion Black kind of view. James would never mention it to Sirius, but he often wonders whether Sirius’ parents ever stop to take in the Central Park view from Black Tower penthouse on the other side of the park. He frowns and thinks, probably not.
The last time Sirius mentioned any member of his family was just under a year ago. James remembers stepping out onto the terrace of the Brooklyn restaurant where they were celebrating their college graduation, where he found Sirius staring wistfully into the distance smoking a cigarette. "You know they'll kick you right out of med school if they see you smoking those," James had said.
"Oh please, they would never," Sirius had laughed back, but the smile faded as quickly as it appeared. "It's just..." Another long pause. "You know you’re the only brother I need, James. But I sometimes wish he was here too.” James had sighed and put an arm around his best friend. He hadn't heard Sirius utter the name Regulus since their sophomore year. But when he asked whether Sirius wanted to talk about it, he was met only with a soft, "No," and they stared out across the river together for a while.
James hears the apartment door slam shut behind him and turns back toward his friends. Sirius kicks off his boots and strides over to the couch where he immediately lays down, taking up the entire sofa, and stares morosely at the ceiling. Remus proceeds into his own bedroom, probably to take a nap, but James and Peter share a concerned look.
James perches on the arm of the couch. “You alright, Padfoot?”
“Are you going to call me that forever?”
“Well if you keep wearing the stupid hospital socks around the apartment…”
“So, forever then.” Sirius winks, and James breaths a tiny sigh of relief that the grumpiness seems to be fading already. “I have an infinite supply now that we basically live in a hospital. My feet will always be cozy, and I’ll never slip.” Sirius has always tended toward the dramatic, and James has been his best friend long enough to know exactly how to bring him out of a slump.
“Tell you what,” James starts, “I think we need some sustenance to lift our spirits. Can’t plan the best post-exam party of our lives on an empty stomach!”
“I swear to god, James, if you try to feed me anything that has come into contact with one of those god-forsaken towel clips…”
“Sirius, the food doesn’t actually touch the—no, never mind. I meant I am getting you a real treat so you can cheer the hell up and we can start the last, best summer we’ve ever had.”
Sirius perks up. “My favorite?”
“Your favorite.”
“You’re paying.”
James laughs and starts back toward the entryway. He hears Sirius shift on the couch to make room for Peter, and the TV clicks on as he walks out the door.
~~~
James has always loved the summer. When he was little, before his dad’s business had really taken off and the whole family still lived in a tiny sixth-floor walkup on the other side of Brooklyn, James used to lay on the bench by the bus stop right outside to feel the sunshine on his skin. He would never fall asleep there—one, because this is New York and even as a child James knew that you have to keep your wits about you outside; and two, because James’ brain just never turns off. He was always content just to stare at the clouds and watch their shapes change, letting his imagination run free and telling himself his own silent stories.
Life is more complicated at age twenty-three, and the carefree fantasies of clouds shaped like dogs chasing rats across the sky have been largely overrun by real-world responsibilities. More often than not these days, James’ racing brain is occupied with random medical facts, exam schedules, and uncertainty about the future. But some things never change—like the feeling of being out on the streets of New York with the summer sun on his skin. He closes his eyes and lets the warmth sink in as he walks down the block.
James tries to calm his mind and focus on everything positive in his life right at this moment. He is done with his whole first year of medical school at one of the top programs in the country. He passed every one of his classes with better scores than he had expected. He can spend this whole summer relaxing and working on any projects that strike his fancy. And he gets to live here, in the greatest city in the world, with three great friends in an apartment with a million-dollar view.
Plus, he just has a good feeling about today.
He opens the door to Puddifoot’s, the closest coffee shop to the hospital (that isn’t a chain), and it doesn’t even bother him when he sees the line is nearly to the door. This coffee shop is slow, but he’s in no hurry. He takes the opportunity to pop in a headphone and covertly press play on the new Taylor Swift album that Remus would give him endless shit for listening to. What can he say though, something about 1989 really speaks to him. He smiles to himself as “Welcome to New York, it’s been waiting for you...” starts playing in his ear. It’s funny, he thinks, because he’s never even left the city for longer than a week or two.
Enough time passes that he is now trying his best not to dance to “Shake It Off” when he realizes that there is only one person ahead of him in line. He’s just starting to get his order together in his mind when he looks up and really notices the man in front of him. James can’t see his face, but a glint of silver catches his eye as the man hands a black credit card to the barista. Something about the gracefulness of those hands, sliver flashing on long, delicate fingers, is inexplicably mesmerizing. James cannot peel his eyes away as the barista gives the man a pen and a receipt. Willowy fingers curl around the pen—he’s left-handed, James notices—and James has never seen a cheap ballpoint pen look so… elegant? When James signs his own name, it’s a messy scribble (“a doctor’s signature” he likes to joke), but the way this stranger is signing his name in measured, perfect cursive is so bizarrely beautiful that—
“HELLO?”
James jolts back to attention. “Sorry… what?”
“I said how I can help you?” asks the red-headed young man behind the counter. James blinks a few times and shakes his head a little. Exams must really be getting to him.
“Oh, sorry. Right. I’m sorry! I zone out sometimes.”
“No worries,” the man behind the counter laughs. “What can I get you?” James proceeds to order four chocolate hazelnut bars (Sirius’ favorite) and his own drink.
“It’s busy in here today,” James comments as he hands over his card.
“Oh, yeah,” says the red-head, “I was actually just saying that to the guy in front of you. He said it’s orientation day for the Medical Humanities program over at St. Mungo’s.” Oh, James thinks, and something clicks in his brain. Remus is part of the program too and had to show up for the summer session (a crash course in some of the traditional pre-med classes they didn’t take in undergrad) last year. The Humanities kids fit so well into the class of traditional pre-med students by the end of the year that James often forgets they started out a little behind. “Can I get a name for the order?” red-head asks.
“James,” he responds and, still a little lost in thought, automatically follows with, “What’s yours?”
Red-head laughs. “Gideon. I’ve seen you and your friends in here before actually, nice to finally put a name to the face.”
“Likewise,” James says brightly as he signs his scribbly signature on a paper receipt. Gideon hands him the hazelnut bars and tells him his drink will be ready on the bar in a minute. James starts to turn toward the bar and instantly freezes.
The man with the graceful hands and beautiful signature is standing there waiting, still as a statue, and James feels a shiver shoot up his spine. He briefly considers that this man might actually be a piece of classical artwork, and then he thinks that is a very strange thought to have about a real-life person standing right in front of him. It’s just… he’s so… put together. His black hair falls over his forehead in soft waves, looking polished in a way James’ messy hair could never. His skin is pale, but the kind of pale that is more ethereal than sun-starved, and his features are sharp but with a hint of softness. He’s a little shorter and slighter than James, though James feels like he takes up more space than anyone else in the room. He can’t shake the feeling that this man reminds him of someone he used to know.
James isn’t sure how long it takes for him to come to his senses and realize that he is just staring at this stranger who, thank goodness, is looking the other way with headphones in and doesn’t seem to see James at all. He fixes his eyes on the bar, determined to be a normal fucking person for five minutes and not to keep glancing back at the beautiful stranger.
But sometimes James gets ideas. Just little wisps of half-baked plans, and something in him is so impulsive that he finds his ill-formed ideas spilling into reality before his rational brain can intervene.
Another red-head who looks shockingly like Gideon (so much so that James immediately glances back to where Gideon still stands at the register… are they twins?) approaches the bar with two drinks. No one else is standing there waiting but James and the pretty stranger. “I’ve got your drinks, James and…” he glances down at the scribbled name on the other cup, “Leo?”
James’ wisp of an intrusive thought seems to reach out and grab him by the hand and, without really thinking it through, his fingers clasp around the cup labeled Leo. From the corner of his eye, there’s a flash of silver and delicate fingers enclose the remaining cup that, from his angle, is clearly labeled James.
James breathes in and suddenly feels at ease. He has never actually had a problem shooting his shot with a pretty stranger once he has a game plan. He looks up with what he hopes is a winning smile, about to apologize for the mistake, when it all goes a little sideways as a lot of things happen at once. First, James’ stomach drops as the stranger immediately takes a sip from the cup he just picked up (what, who does that?). Then, his breath hitches as he locks eyes with the man for the first time. Oh this is just unfair, James thinks. Pretty stranger’s eyes are an arresting shade of grey that make James feel like he could fall right into them.
The stranger—Leo, James thinks—has an unreadable expression on his face. James’ first thought is that he looks angry, but then his eyes soften ever so slightly and narrow on James. “What,” he begins slowly, “the hell is this drink?” Leo’s face remains a neutral mask, as James feels his cheeks begin to flush and he lowers his eyes.
“It’s, um… it’s a four-pump hazelnut and vanilla latte.” He forcibly drags his eyes back up to meet the stranger’s again. “With caramel drizzle.” For the first time, James gets the feeling that the other man is fighting a smile, but the sensation is gone as quickly as it came.
“You’re a grown man…” Leo glances down at the name on the cup he’s holding and adds, “James.” His expression now back to inscrutable, he continues, “If I were a barista, I would simply refuse to make this for you.”
It’s so mean, but for some reason James just feels warm. He pushes past the rudeness and asks, “Well what’s your very manly drink, then?”
“Why don’t you try it and tell me?”
“Oh no, it’s yours, I really couldn’t—”
“No, go on. You’ve committed to this now, and I’m afraid you’re stuck with my drink.” James feels a surge of panic wondering if Leo knows he grabbed the wrong drink intentionally. Those steel grey eyes stay locked on him, and James slowly lifts the cup in his hands to his lips.
Ugh, it’s scalding hot and so bitter. He tries to mirror the inscrutable mask of the man across from him but immediately knows he has failed and is making a face. “Mm. Black coffee. My favorite.”
“It’s an Americano.”
“So… pretentious black coffee.”
The two men stare at each other in silence for what seems like long minutes but is probably only several seconds, and James feels like his heart is trying to beat right out of his chest. Then Leo exhales a breath of laughter and really, genuinely smiles, and James thinks his heart might have just stopped entirely.
“Enjoy my drink, James.”
As the beautiful man with steel grey eyes turns toward the door, James can’t help himself. “Wait!” The stranger turns back toward him and tilts his head slightly, hand still resting on the doorknob. “Um… Leo, right? Let me buy you another black coffee. Wait, no, I mean an Americano. Can I please?”
“Thanks, James. Maybe next time.” Leo turns back toward the door and grabs the handle.
James pauses for a moment, his ever-racing mind having come to a screeching halt. He blinks. “Next time?” But by the time the words are out of his mouth, Leo has already gone.
* * *
Remus
“Holy shit dude, took you long enough!”
Sirius’ shout from the common room jolts Remus awake from his well-earned, post-exam nap. He sits up slowly, feeling grumpy and rubbing his left shoulder, which is always a tiny bit sore right after waking up.
“Oh, well,” he hears James respond, “turns out the Humanities Program students all got here today for orientation. Must be boring since it seemed like all of them needed coffee urgently. But hey, at least they didn’t sell out of your favorite. Catch!”
Remus hears a loud crinkling noise, which he assumes is Sirius’ snatching a hazelnut-bar-containing bag out of midair. Now he’s really going to get up, because James always brings enough for everyone but Sirius will eat everything he brought if the others are too slow. Remus won’t tell Sirius this, but the chocolate hazelnut bars from Puddifoot’s are his favorite too.
“No, hold on, hold on.” Sirius is now talking with his mouth full. Remus pulls a cardigan over his shoulders, hiding the mottled scar that covers most of his left upper arm, and starts toward the common room. “James, you’ve been my best friend since our first day of college. I know that look. You met someone.” Remus can practically feel Sirius wiggling his eyebrows at James suggestively. “Pretty girl in the coffee shop?”
“Um…”
“Ooo,” Sirius starts to bubble with laughter. “Pretty boy in the coffee shop?”
And Remus’ hand freezes on the door.
He peers through the small crack at the door but can’t see whether anyone else is in the common room with Sirius and James. He hears the water running in the shower down the hall and gathers that Peter is getting ready, while the other two boys are alone in the common room. Shit, Remus thinks, he really wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. This is all on Sirius, really, for being so damn loud. For a moment, Remus considers whether he should stay in his room and ignore what he just overheard. James has known Sirius for years—they were college roommates from their first day, so of course he already knows. Wait, does Peter know too? No, it doesn’t matter, because James should be able to share this part of himself with Remus and Peter whenever he chooses to, on his own terms.
Remus knows this and should respect it. But instead he does the opposite, pushing the door wide open and stepping into the common room.
“Who’d you meet in the coffee shop, James?” Remus cringes at himself for asking what is definitely an inappropriate and prying question, but he just has to know. He's only ever heard James talk about liking Lily Evans. A girl. And now that he's asked, it doesn’t even occur to him that James will lie. He hasn’t even known James for a full year yet, but he knows that’s just not who he is.
“Oh, shit, Remus. Um. You’re up. I didn’t… I thought you’d be dead to the world for hours after that test,” Sirius rambles.
He glances back at James, and now they’re doing that thing they do where they have a whole conversation with just their eyes and subtle facial expressions. Remus is silently kicking himself for creating this awkward situation, but James doesn’t look upset at all. He takes a deep breath and says, “I met a boy in the coffee shop. A very pretty boy.”
“So, wait… you’re—you’re saying you’re…?”
“Bi? Yeah, and it’s okay. I’m really not private about it.”
“Oh,” Remus exhales, then inhales again slowly, steeling himself. “James, me too.” James smiles, and a sense of relief floods through Remus until his words catch up to his brain. “Oh no… wait, I’m not, actually—” Oh, fuck, Remus feels stupid right now. “Not bi, I mean. Just men. I’m gay.” He holds his breath for a fraction of a second until—
“Yeah, Remus, obviously.”
“Sirius, no. Try again,” James responds with a sharp look.
“Sorry, right,” Sirius clears his throat. “Ahem. Moony, we are honored to have created a space safe enough that you felt you could trust us with—”
“Oh fuck off, Padfoot.”
Sirius groans and plucks a pillow from the couch, throwing it right at Remus’s face. “Not you too with the damn nickname.”
“Oh, I see, so I’m the only one that has to have a silly nickname.”
“What are you talking about? Moony is the best nickname! I know because I came up with it!”
“Okay sure, Padfoot.” Remus rolls his eyes but is simultaneously overwhelmed with a surge of fondness for his friends. He can’t imagine anyone he knows from his hometown reacting this… casually to what he just shared. But of course, Abilene, Texas is not New York City. He didn’t even broadcast it in undergrad. UT is in a bigger city, sure, but it’s still the South. And he doesn’t think he’ll ever tell his parents. “But really, you guys, how did you know?”
“Well,” James says softly, “I didn’t know exactly. But I notice how you look at Frank. Honestly man, I get it. You know what I mean when I say I get it.”
Remus feels his cheeks start to flush. God damn it.
“Oh well I knew exactly,” inserts Sirius. “I saw you all over some blonde guy at the Hog’s Head the night before orientation last year.”
“What?” James and Remus shout simultaneously. Remus’ feels like he might actually be sick.
Sirius rolls on, “Recognized you immediately when I moved in here the day after and have been waiting patiently to give you shit for it ever since. I don’t think I’ve seen you that hammered since I actually met you.” James erupts into hysterical laughter, while Remus just wants to sink right through the floor.
“But Sirius,” James chokes out eventually, “What were you doing at the Hog’s Head?”
“Meeting Pandora. Our annual session of the disowned heirs and heiresses club.”
“Oh shit, I haven’t seen Pandora in ages. What’s she even up to these—no wait, hold on. We’re not getting distracted. Moony, tell us more. I mean, if you want to. Please.” James grins again. “How about you tell me about the boy from the bar, and I’ll tell you about the boy from the coffee shop?”