Two weeks before Sirius’ Departure
Regulus was thankful for house parties. As much as he loved the barn, there was nothing better than air conditioning and couches to melt into.
Plenty of people were mulling about, and he watched from over the rim of his red solo cup and eavesdropped as conversations came and went around him. He had lost Barty to the whirlwind of setting up his equipment and sound-checking with his band once the last band finished, and Regulus knew he’d have to get up at some point and be a supportive best friend but couldn’t find it in himself to get up just yet.
He was watching something much more interesting than Dorcas tuning her bass guitar.
Sirius leaned up against a wall across the way. Regulus could only catch him in the slits between people as the crowd passed and throbbed. He narrowed his eyes, squinting in the dim lighting to make out how his brother was biting his lip and honest to God twirling his hair with one finger, his chin tilted up and baring his throat to none other than Remus Lupin.
They had to have something going on, best friends don’t cage their best friends against walls and give them the most sultry looks while they talk on incessantly about Regulus knows what. He sipped his drink, grimacing at the taste.
Remus chuckled at something when Sirius laughed at his own story, one of his hands coming up to steady Sirius by his hip. A group of people passed, and Regulus craned his neck to see if he saw that right. It was gone by the time the obstruction cleared.
Sirius caught his breath, flopping back onto the wall and sighing. Regulus strained to hear them, but it was truly useless. He watched, enraptured when Sirius lowered his eyes, scanning Lupin from head to toe and flicking his chin up as he asked him something. Lupin's expression darkened, and he took a step forward, Sirius’ eyes lingering on his lips.
Oh my God, they’re going to fucking kiss!
Regulus could feel his eyes widen, too focused on Sirius’ puppy eyes to realize Lupin was reaching for something in his jeans. When he realized, his assumption was immediately that he was fishing for a condom, or at least checking he had one. Sadly, the taller boy produced a metal cigarette holder.
Regulus’ shoulders slumped, not having realized they’d jumped to his ears. He watched as Lupin placed one between his lips, then held one up for Sirius to catch with his own. A lighter lit both of their faces in a warm glow, their faces so close Lupin could light both cigarettes in one go.
Well, at least he knows for certain now that Sirius smokes.
He slumped back into the couch and started looking around again, like he hadn’t been obsessively staring down a dark hallway for the past fifteen minutes. Dorcas caught him just in time.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him up, Regulus spilled a little bit of his drink on the poor couch.
“And you didn’t check the couch first?” He yelled over the noise of the crowd.
“I thought maybe you decided to be social today.”
“You thought wrong.” He scoffed, dropping his cup off on some end table he passed as Dorcas pulled him up to the front and left him to grab her bass.
Regulus cursed himself immediately.
His arms were limp at his side, lips slightly parted, eyes wide.
“Motherfucker,” He whined.
“Are you ready to set this shit off?” Barty screamed into the microphone, pacing aggressively with his shirt off, jeans hanging too low for somebody wearing a belt, hair already clinging to his face.
The crowd went insane behind him, Regulus got brought even closer as the crowd pushed up, closing around Barty and his band.
“This first one is called…Where The Bathroom At?”
Their new single, Regulus braced himself for the crowd's reaction, elbowing a few guys trying to get him out of the way.
Barty swayed right in front of him, and Regulus stilled, watching helplessly as a predatory gaze raked over him. Barty smirked.
Then, his best friend threw his head back and screamed into the microphone, cupping it to his face before launching into the most aggressive song they’d ever written. Barty was coming undone on the stage that was some kid’s poor parents' living room; practiced growls, retches, and the chorus’ the crowd already knew by heart.
And there was Regulus, stock still in the front, holding eye-contact with the lead singer every girl in the room wanted to jump at the moment.
He couldn’t even focus on Dorcas, who had her head ducked in concentration, or the guitarist who was thrashing with every strum; he didn’t even know who the drummer was, and he couldn’t even care less. Barty was in front of him again.
His grin was manic, sweat was making every part of him glisten.
Regulus’ stomach swooped when Barty pressed his forehead to his, he could feel his labored breaths on his face, the microphone the only thing between their lips. Regulus’ eyelashes fluttered as he tore his eyes off the mic and locked eyes with Barty.
The band was giving it their all for the breakdown, people were pushing up on Regulus’ back. Time fucking stopped.
“Get the fuck back!” Barty screamed, his forehead pushing into Regulus’ with the force, his shoulders and abdomen flexing.
Regulus laughed, shoving Barty back hard, finally nodding his head to the music, letting his curls get in his face.
“Where the bathroom at? Where the bathroom at? Where the bathroom at?” It sounded throat-shredding; the crowd nearly tore the house down as the song closed. People were throwing fists in the pit, hair in everyone’s faces, people standing on furniture.
It was pure chaos.
Barty’s chest was heaving as he held the microphone over his head. There was hardly a moment before they launched into the next song, and Barty’s knee was coming into his chest with the force of his screaming.
Regulus couldn’t take his eyes off of him.
He was pushing people back into the crowd, his muscles all contracting as he ran through songs, his hair looking like somebody had poured a bucket of water over him.
Barty finished the last song with a guttural scream, and Regulus clapped his hands in a way that seemed almost polite compared to the way people were throwing their drinks and screaming unintelligibly.
Without a word, Barty handed the mic to one of the tech grunts, more slammed it into the middle of his chest, before he made a beeline for Regulus.
Suddenly, he was lost in the buzzing crowd, a tight grip on his wrist as he wove through people he only had the time to half recognize. Then they were going towards that hallway he was so focused on earlier.
He could hear a protesting whine as they passed Sirius and Lupin, the only thing he cared about was the way the tattooed bat wings on Barty’s back flexed as he walked.
The bathroom light was an assault to his senses, one he hardly had the time to let his eyes adjust to before he was slammed against the closed bathroom door.
“Who the fuck let you out of the house like this?” Barty muttered, his eyes completely obscured, the tips of their noses touching.
Regulus looked down slightly, he didn’t see anything offensive with the tight black shirt and fishnet running down his arms or the baggy cargos he wore.
“You don’t like it?” He tilted his head.
Barty manhandled his way up Regulus’ shirt, a bruising grip around his waist.
“Are you kidding me?” Barty chuckled, looming over Regulus like a rabid animal, his canines just looking for something to sink into.
Regulus wasn’t a stranger to being touchy with friends, having laid in plenty a cuddle pile, but something about Barty right now had his heart rate picking up; his energy was electric and completely infectious.
He leaned into it, throwing his arms around Barty’s neck.
“You look hot as fuck.” Barty said rather ineloquently, and Regulus huffed.
“Thanks, you did good out there.” He said, trying to hide the way he was buzzing under his skin, not wanting to give away how good Barty’s hands felt running up his ribcage and back down to his hips.
Barty dropped his forehead onto one of his collar bones, panting like controlling himself was taking everything out of him.
“Can I kiss you?”
Regulus’ first thought was Evan, who was at home feeling too sick to come to the gig, the flu or something. Did he and Barty get down like that? Kissing friends with some kind of blanket permission? Would Regulus asking ruin the mood?
He went through about twenty trains of thought in three seconds before deciding: What’s being a Black for if not keeping secrets?
“If you want.” He shrugged, hoping it was cover enough for his nerves. He didn’t really have time to worry about it.
Barty was on him in a second, knocking Regulus’ head into the door with a groan. Regulus kicked into overdrive, trying to keep up with Barty’s pace, pure adrenaline in a kiss.
Their mouths were open in an instant, and Regulus could only taste spit and the drinks they’d had. The next band went up on stage while they locked lips, and Barty took advantage of the noise to grab behind Regulus’ knees and hoist him up onto his waist. Regulus grabbed onto the cool, clammy skin of his back, scratching over the bat wings before Barty was back on him.
He was doing his best to keep up while committing it all to memory, carving it into stone so it’d never leave him, but Barty was pressing him up against the door, not giving him any space to think beyond the melding of their lips.
His hands drifted up into the spikey undercut of Barty’s hair before grabbing a sweaty chunk of hair, rearing his head back so he could breathe. Barty’s pupils were dinner plates.
“Put me down.” This had gone far enough, Regulus was comfortable leaving it at this and never speaking about it again.
Barty grinned. “If you insist.”
He stepped a few paces back and turned, dropping Regulus right onto the bathroom counter. Regulus pouted up at his best friend, who pressed his hands onto the countertop on either side of his thighs, still smiling down at him.
“Why are you kissing me?” Regulus demanded, not mentioning how Barty was slotting himself between his legs.
Barty shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Cause you’re hot?”
“What about Evan?”
“He’s hot too. Can we keep kissing now?” Barty went to lean back in, but Regulus dipped just far enough back, examining Barty’s face, how put out he looked by Regulus’ confiscating of his lips.
Regulus had never been called hot- cute maybe, conventionally attractive, of course. That was the whole big whoop about his genealogy. But hot coming from his teenage wet dream? That was new.
It sucked Barty had a boyfriend, really sucked. Not bad enough that Regulus wanted to stop, a sick thrill ran through him.
He flattened either palm onto the countertop, not willing to implicate himself any further but not wanting to stop whatever it was destiny had in store for him. Regulus tilted his chin up to Barty, holding his gaze expectantly. His face blank, whatever Barty decided to do from this point on was his decision alone. Regulus would only be an accessory to the crime.
When Barty gripped his chin firmly, he gasped, mouth falling open. His tongue rolled over his lips, the barbell through his tongue clicking on his front teeth as a greeting before reconnecting their lips.
Regulus only moved his mouth to show he was still interested, but Barty, unsatisfied with prey playing possum, dropped his hands to his hips and pulled him to the edge of the counter. Regulus yelped into his mouth in surprise, he could feel Barty between his legs, every part of them flush.
Oh, this was how it was going to happen.
He didn’t expect it to be a quickie in some randoms bathroom, but you take what you can get.
Regulus clenched his thighs around the solid form of Barty, shivering at the metal studs of his belt on his inner thighs. Barty’s hands dug deep, pulling him up against him in a rocking motion. Regulus fell apart, feeling his boxers dampen. He let out an embarrassing noise, a groan that broke the kiss.
Barty laughed sadistically, pulling back to examine Regulus. He grabbed his face, pouting Regulus’ lips for him.
Regulus could feel how desperate he looked despite his efforts, eyebrows drawn up, covered in the smell of spit and Barty’s sweat. His chest stuttered up and down between them.
“You’re so pent up, sweetheart.” Barty teased, smiling at his declaration. Regulus looked up at him like he was an executioner coming around to collect his pound of flesh.
Please don’t let this end here. Please don’t come to your senses now.
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” His voice was low and raspy from the show, his teeth blindingly white, begging to be bloodied.
As soon as the words processed, there was a banging on the door, and both of their heads snapped towards the interruption.
“Regulus Arcturus Black!”
“Christ on the ever-loving cross,” Regulus whined, screwing his eyes shut.
“I know you’re in there,” Sirius shouted from the other side of the door.
Barty laughed, “Caught in the act.” he bent his head down to leave Regulus with a peck on the lips, and Regulus folded, wanting more to keep for the lecture on the way home. He dug his nails into Barty’s shoulders, pressing his chest to Barty’s unclothed one as he stole one more long, deep kiss. “Come on,” Barty whispered, helping him off the counter.
Regulus tried to make himself look like he hadn’t just been kissed within an inch of his life, tucking his shirt back in. Barty remained in the same state, a lopsided smirk pulling at his mouth. Regulus nodded at his best friend, and he opened the door. Sure enough, Sirius greeted them both with his arms crossed.
Regulus bit back a genuine smile when Sirius made a point of knocking his shoulder into Barty’s, momentarily throwing him off balance. If looks could kill, Barty would be skinned alive.
When Sirius’ eyes fell on him, still in the bathroom, butterflies beat against his guts. Regulus could see Lupin lingering on the wall across the door.
“Get your ass in the car,” Sirius said dangerously low, his eyes were cold, his brow set. Regulus swooned at the tick in his jaw.
“Whatever.” He breezed past him with a smirk, momentarily catching eyes with Lupin, who seemed to be properly amused by all this. “See you around.”
“Later, kid.” Remus simply nodded back at him.
When Regulus dropped himself into the passenger seat, he sulked for only a minute, mourning the loss of what could have been it.
Then, he remembered Sirius’ cold stare, the way he didn’t flinch when Barty knocked into him, those six words he almost spat at him after he’d seen what he’d done to Barty’s back. Regulus had pissed his brother off bad.
It was more than Sirius’ dislike for Barty. It meant something.
That was so totally worth it.