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“Siri, stop bothering me!”
“But you promised.”
Regulus could practically hear his brother pouting on the other end of the line.
“Listen I— I really don’t feel like going out right now”
“I know, I know,” Sirius sighs. “But I think it would be good for you. You know, get back on the horse? I know the breakup has been hard on you, and I get it, but you’ve been isolating for the last month—”
“You’re one to talk, when you and Remus broke up that one time you refused to leave your bed for a week—”
“Not the point.”
Regulus hears his brother take a deep breath. “Pretty please? You can bring your friends too! And if you don’t have fun you can leave. No questions asked. Please? Just half an hour, that’s all I’m asking for.”
“Sirius, I’m—”
“Pretty please?”
“I don’t—”
“Please, please, please, please, plea—”
“You’re insufferable!”
“pleeeeeeeeeease?”
“OKAY!”
“Okay?”
Regulus sighs loudly, already exhausted by his brothers’ antics. He knows there’s no way to win. Sirius can go on for hours. Aren’t the younger siblings supposed to be the annoying ones? “I’ll be there.”
“Hell yeah! Okay, I’ll text you the address alright? See you there, Reggie! Love you!”
“yeah, yeah, fuck off.”
“What was that?”
“Love you too.”
“That’s what I thought!”
Regulus hangs up the phone. He’s sitting on his couch in his oversized fluffy sweater, Pandora’s “sad-girl-playlist” playing from the speaker in the corner, a tub of chocolate ice-cream waiting for him in the freezer. He looks around his empty flat, and the last thing he wants to do right now is go to a fucking bar. Huffing in annoyed resignation, he stands up and walks toward the shower, dropping a text in the group chat on the way.
“They’re over there.” Pandora points at a group of people in the back of the pub.
Convincing his friends to come with him was easy. He barely had to ask, before the group chat exploded with outfit ideas, screenshots of bus schedules and Barty’s consistent nagging for pre-drinks.
Convincing his friends was easy. The real challenge was him. Actually leaving the house. Not canceling last minute and rolling up under a heavy blanket.
But he’s made it. He’s here. And that’s a big step. And the one thing he’s promised his brother. He can leave at any time, that’s what Sirius said. And what Regulus keeps reminding himself, as they make their way through the crowd of people, Barty at the front, carelessly pushing people out of the way.
“You made it!” Sirius yells, throwing an arm over Regulus’ shoulder, knocking him around. At least he isn’t ruffling his hair. Small mercies.
“Everyone, this is my brother!” Sirius half shouts to be heard over the music.
“And his friends,” Evan adds, winking at a red-headed girl. The girl turns out to be Lily, girlfriend of Mary, who is best friends with Peter, who was Sirius’ roommate back in school. Regulus has met him before, years ago, when they were all teenagers. There’s Remus of course, Sirius’ boyfriend, but Regulus sees the man every week for “family dinner”, so there’s really no need for an introduction.
His friends introduce themselves to the group, Pandora immediately getting engrossed in a conversation with Mary and Lily, Evan starting up a chat with Remus and Barty saying something to Peter that Regulus can’t make out but seems to make Peter incredibly uncomfortable, judging by the way his face turns redder than a tomato.
Well, that’s Barty for you.
Regulus is contemplating rescuing Peter when he gets shaken from his thoughts by his brother.
“Reggie, you remember James, right?”
Regulus looks over to the new addition to the group. The man — James — holding a tray with drinks in his hands.
Huh.
Dark blue jeans and thick thighs. A red shirt, riding up slightly and exposing a happy trail. Cotton straining over a defined biceps. Smooth caramel skin. A moustache and five-o-clock shadow and the most beautiful smile Regulus has ever seen. And those eyes? Soft hazel eyes, the colour of moss and golden leaves, warmed by the sun, glowing in the low light with stored heat, crinkling at the outer corners as the man grins mischievously. He puts down the tray of drinks on the table and Regulus can’t help but stare at those hands. Those arms.
When did he get so hot?
“Yeah I—” Regulus stares at him like a deer in headlights, no idea how to stop. “I remember.”
That’s a lie. He doesn’t remember this James. He stares at the man, forgetting to breathe for a second there. How does he make a fucking moustache look attractive? He’d like to sit on it, really. Regulus tries to will the thought away as all his blood rushes to a place he really doesn’t want it this particular moment.
“So do I,” this fucking Adonis says, smirking. “Good to see you again, Regulus.”
James hands him a beer and he takes it, making sure their hands graze.
Wait. Okay. He needs a minute.
Regulus chucks half of his drink, before staring down into his glass, trying to control his breathing, control his thoughts.
His friends are laughing, drinks are flowing, the music is deafening, and Regulus’ mind is filled with thoughts of those hands on his waist, his thighs, his wrists, his throat. With those soft lips on the most sensitive parts of his body, facial hair scratching his skin. With that voice, whispering obscene things to him. He’d probably drop to his knees right then and there if James just asked, and isn’t that a horrifying thought? He’s in public for crying out loud. Standing right next to his brother of all people! Honestly, get it together, Regulus!
When he finds the courage to look up again, he finds James already — or maybe still — looking at him, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Honestly, when did this man get this damn sexy? Regulus would have remembered if he had that face. Sure, it’s been a couple of years since they’ve last seen each other, but a glow up like this is almost unfair.
He really needs to stop staring. The conversation flows, so do the drinks, and Regulus’ eyes keep drifting over to James, raking across his body and— is that a nipple piercing? Oh god, Regulus is so done for. Somebody call the morgue because he just died and went to heaven. His mouth goes dry as he stares way to obviously at his brother’s best friend’s chest. His very muscular chest. Regulus wants to lick it — to bite it. His fingers twitch with the need to reach out.
James was in no way an ugly kid, Regulus doesn’t know what he was expecting, but this… was not it. He almost wants to apologize for not seeing the vision back then. Or maybe congratulate him.
Of course he’s not going to do either. He needs to get a fucking grip and stop ogling the man in a public setting. Now that he thinks about it, he’d much rather ogle him in a private setting. With less clothes. Regulus would like to play some naked twister with him, if he’s being honest.
Convinced everyone can see in his face just what he is thinking exactly, he hides behind his beer, emptying it quickly. Great. Adding alcohol to the situation is surely going to help.
It doesn’t stop him from grabbing another pint, drinking it in big gulps, hoping the cold beer will somehow cool his rapidly overheating skin from the inside. Logically he knows it doesn’t work that way. But logic flew out the window, the moment James stepped into his field of vision.
Every time he looks over to the man, James is already looking back. Does he think Regulus is weird? Does he notice him ogling him? Or maybe — hear him out, okay — James is thinking the same exact thing he is. Oh, the plot is thickening. Speaking of thick—
“Are you okay?” Remus breaks him out of his spiralling thoughts. He hasn’t even realized that the man made his way to his side. “You know you can leave when you feel uncomfortable, right? You showed up when you promised, that’s all Sirius asked for. I can give you a ride if you need one.” He takes a sip of his bottle of coke. Ah. Designated driver.
“Are you feeling uncomfortable Lupin?”
“Fuck off, take a cab if you want to go home,” Remus retorts, but they’re both grinning.
“I’m okay, thanks. But I’ll step outside for a couple of minutes, yeah? I’ll be back.
When he finally makes it out the door, he leans against the cold stone, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply.
When he feels calmer, he pulls out a pack of Marlboros and a lighter. The smoke fills his lungs, slows his racing thoughts and the cold wind cools his burning skin.
That’s when he realizes — this whole night, since the moment he laid eyes on James, he has not once thought about his ex. He has not once felt sad or lonely. He’s felt a lot of emotions, most of them horniness — is horniness an emotion? — but none of them unpleasant. He’s missed this. The thrill, the high…. The sex. Oh, he desperately needs to get laid.
Well, there’s a decision made. Regulus will not rest until he has James Potter under him. Or above him. Behind him? Regulus isn’t picky. He’ll take it all. God, there’s probably a lot to take… Regulus gets half hard just thinking about what James might be packing in his pants. Regulus bets he has a lightning rod bigger than Zeus’.
Well, only one way to find out.
Taking one last deep breath, he stubs out his cigarette and makes his way back inside.
On to phase one — actually talking to James.