Sirius ‘Can’t Shut Up’ Black
Sirius leaned back against the counter, one arm draped over the back of Remus’s chair as he nursed his beer. The kitchen was warm, filled with the easy sounds of their weekend tradition—bottles clinking, low conversation, the occasional burst of laughter from Peter’s terrible jokes. James was in his usual spot at the island, fingers drumming idly against the beer bottle in front of him.
Sirius could tell something was on his mind.
James took another sip, then set his beer down with a quiet thud. He turned to Sirius, his tone casual—too casual. “Your little brother works at the hospital, right?”
Sirius blinked. The words hit with an unexpected weight, cutting through the comfortable haze of the evening. His gaze flickered to Remus instinctively, and sure enough, Remus was already looking at him, brow slightly furrowed. A silent warning passed between them.
Don’t do anything reckless.
Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head as if to say, I’m not. This wasn’t his doing. James was the one asking.
Remus didn’t look convinced.
Sirius turned his attention to Peter, hoping for backup, but Peter—predictably—was no help at all. He avoided eye contact, taking a long, suspiciously slow sip of his beer.
Right. Great.
Sirius exhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers against the bottle before answering. “Yeah… he does.”
James nodded, gaze unreadable, then took another sip. “Do you visit him often?”
Sirius frowned, caught off guard by the question. There was something too measured about James’s tone. He knew James too well to believe he was asking out of pure curiosity. He was digging.
“I mean, yeah,” Sirius said slowly. “He’s my brother.”
James hummed like he was turning that over in his head, then tilted his head just slightly. “At his work?”
That threw Sirius completely. He let out a short, incredulous laugh. “No? Why the hell would I?”
James just shrugged, all casual indifference, but Sirius could see through him. There was a sharpness in his hazel eyes, an intent that had nothing to do with casual conversation.
“I dunno,” James mused. “I don’t have a brother, but I’d imagine brothers visit each other at work all the time.”
His tone was light, but Sirius wasn’t fooled.
James turned to Peter. “What do you think, Pete?”
Peter, the traitor, nearly choked on his beer. He coughed, wiped his mouth, and muttered, “Keep me out of this.”
Sirius set his bottle down with a soft clink. His fingers drummed once against the counter before he turned his full attention to James.
“Where are you going with this, Potter?”
Because James was definitely going somewhere. And Sirius had the sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like it. James, swirled the beer in his hand like he didn’t have a care in the world. That forced nonchalance was so James, acting like he was just making conversation when he was obviously leading somewhere.
“I’m not going anywhere with this,” James said, voice light, easy. Too easy. “I just think you should visit your brother at work more often.”
Sirius took another sip of his beer, eyeing James with growing suspicion. “Oh yeah?” he said, setting the bottle down with a soft clink.
“Yeah,” James said smoothly, barely missing a beat. “You should do it. And I can go with you.”
Sirius blinked. “Wait, hold on. Let me get this straight. You want me to drive you to the hospital?” He tilted his head, lips twisting into a half-smirk. “For what, exactly?”
James shrugged, the picture of casual ease. “For one, I can’t drive, and also, we’ve been friends for years, and I’ve never met your little brother.”
Sirius felt something sharp lodge itself in his throat. His grip tightened around his beer bottle, knuckles briefly going white. Met him? He wanted to scream. You didn’t just meet him, James, you loved him. You planned a whole damn life with him.
Desperate, he turned to Remus, silently pleading for permission, for some kind of sign that he could jus tell James the truth. But Remus, steady as ever, only gave him a small, firm shake of his head, a reminder that this wasn’t his secret to tell. Regulus had made his choice. He wanted to pretend James had never been his, that they were nothing more than strangers. And Sirius, no matter how much he hated it, had promised to respect that.
Sirius exhaled sharply through his nose and looked back at James, who was still watching him with that infuriatingly casual expression.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Sirius said, forcing his voice to stay even. “ Besides, James, you can drive.”
James exhaled sharply and muttered, "No, I can't. Not after the accident. You guys know that." Sirius sat up a little straighter.
James was avoiding his gaze, fingers idly peeling at the damp label of his beer bottle. His voice was light, almost too casual, but Sirius heard the tension beneath it.
"I get nervous behind the wheel," James continued, "so I was thinking... maybe you could stop by to see your brother, and I could catch a ride?"
Sirius placed his beer on the counter and leaned in, his arms folding over the island as he gave James his full attention. "Sure. Tell me again why I should drive you to the hospital?"
James’s fingers froze on the label, and for the briefest moment, he looked cornered. A faint flush crept up his neck, his eyes darting away before he let out a soft, uneasy chuckle.
"It’s not a big deal." He took another sip of beer, as if that would somehow make this conversation easier. "I’ve just been having these... weird flashes. And I just want to check with a doctor that everything’s alright with my head."
Sirius narrowed his eyes, reading between the lines. "James, the accident was a year ago."
"I know," James said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I swear I’m not making this up. It’s just... I keep getting flashes of a past relationship. Someone I forgot."
That made Remus put his beer down.
The room shifted. Sirius felt it instantly. His eyes flicked to Remus, then Peter, who had gone very still.
"Someone between Lily and Kacey," James clarified, his voice quieter now, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud.
Remus reached for his drink, taking a slow sip, and Sirius could see the way his fingers tightened around the bottle. Peter, beside him, looked paler than usual, his expression unreadable.
They all knew who James was talking about.
Peter cleared his throat, his voice oddly forced when he asked, "And who do you think that person is?"
James hesitated. His fingers resumed their slow peeling at the beer label, the silence stretching before he admitted, "I don’t know. I never see his face." He let out a slow breath. "But I know it’s a man."
They exchange a knowing glance.
It’s Regulus.
None of them said it.
Remus cleared his throat, shifting his weight. "I don’t think going to the hospital is a good idea."
James frowned, his brows drawing together. "Why not?"
Remus shrugged, then reached out to squeeze James’s shoulder in that steady, grounding way of his. "I don’t know, mate. They might want to put you on medication for that."
James didn’t look convinced. Sirius could see it in the slight downturn of his mouth, the way his shoulders tensed just a fraction. He was looking for something, chasing something, and Sirius had no doubt that if he kept digging, he'd end up exactly where they didn't want him to.
Peter took another sip of his beer, longer this time, before he cleared his throat and said, "So, who’s up for another round?"
The subject changed. But the tension lingered.
...
As the taxi carrying James and Peter pulled away, Sirius stood at the door for a moment, arms crossed, watching the tail lights fade into the night. James had insisted on calling a taxi, refusing to get in a car with Peter, who had claimed he was "hardly drunk" after two beers. Sirius couldn’t blame him, not after everything.
With a sigh, he shut the door and turned back inside, rubbing a hand over his face. Remus was already at the sink, loading dishes into the dishwasher with the quiet efficiency Sirius had always admired. The familiar clinking of plates filled the comfortable silence between them.
Sirius lingered by the kitchen island, absently wiping the surface with a dishcloth, but his mind was elsewhere. The conversation from earlier replayed in his head, looping over and over until he couldn’t take it anymore. He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair.
“Remus,” he called.
Remus, mid-rinse, turned his head slightly. “Hm?”
Sirius hesitated, gripping the edge of the counter before finally saying, “James is starting to remember Regulus.”
Remus didn’t react at first, just placed a glass into the rack and let the water run. Then, with a slow nod, he murmured, “That’s what it looks like.”
Sirius clenched his jaw. “We should tell him.”
That made Remus stop. He turned, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he regarded Sirius carefully. Sirius could see the wheels turning in his head, the measured consideration that always came before Remus spoke.
“He deserves to know,” Sirius pushed. “They were pinned to each other since high school. You know how long it took them to get their shit together? Years, Remus. And now it’s like... It's like it never even happened. That’s not fair. He deserves to have his life back.”
Remus sighed, walking toward him. “I agree,” he said softly.
Sirius’s eyebrows shot up. “Then we tell him.”
But Remus shook his head. “No. Not us.”
Sirius huffed. “Why the hell not?”
Instead of answering immediately, Remus stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Sirius, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple before resting his head against Sirius’s shoulder. His body was warm, steady, grounding in a way that made Sirius’s frustration waver, but only slightly.
“If it were me,” Remus said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur, “if I lost my memories… forgot you, forgot everything we’ve been through… I’d want to know, yes. But not from someone else. Not from a third person telling me about a life I don’t remember living.” He pulled back just enough to meet Sirius’s gaze. “I’d want you to tell me.”
Sirius swallowed, chest tight.
“This isn’t our story to share,” Remus continued, his hand cupping the back of Sirius’s neck. “It’s Regulus’s. The decision has to come from him.”
Sirius let out a sharp breath, his hands gripping Remus’s waist. His head dropped, resting against Remus’s shoulder, and he let his eyes close. “Regulus is a selfish, spoiled brat,” he muttered. “I want to punch him.”
Remus chuckled, running his fingers through Sirius’s hair. “Do it, then.”
And that was when the idea struck him.
Sirius lifted his head, a slow, mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe I will.”
...
Sirius knocked loudly on the door, rocking back on his heels as he waited. He heard a muffled groan from the other side, followed by the slow shuffle of feet before the door finally creaked open.
Regulus stood in the doorway, his hair a tangled mess, eyes puffy with sleep, and a dried streak of drool on his chin. He blinked at Sirius, clearly disoriented, before scowling. “What the fuck,” he muttered, voice thick with sleep.
Sirius grinned, holding up the coffee cup he’d brought. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Thought I’d bring you a little something to help with your beauty rest.”
Regulus glared but took the cup anyway, stepping aside to let Sirius in without a word. Sirius walked in and took a slow look around, his smirk fading as he took in the state of the place.
It was…bare.
Not in the way minimalist homes were, not in the way some people preferred to live without clutter. No, this was different. This was sad.
Everything Regulus owned was packed away in boxes, each neatly labeled and stacked along the walls in sections, dividing the loft into some semblance of a living space. Sirius had been here before, of course, but every time, it struck him anew just how little Regulus allowed himself to settle.
Nine months. He’d been here for nine months, and still, the only things outside of a box were the absolute bare essentials. A coffee pot. A few dishes. Some clothes draped over another box. Sirius let out a slow breath. Regulus didn’t even own a chair.
His gaze swept toward the mattress on the floor in the corner, sheets tangled as if he’d rolled out of it just moments ago. No bed frame, no bedside table, no decorations. Regulus lived as if he needed to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, unable to commit to something as simple as furniture.
The accident had wrecked James, but looking at this, Sirius thought maybe it had destroyed Regulus even more than anyone gave him credit for.
Regulus took a slow sip of his coffee and gestured vaguely. “Sit, I guess.”
Sirius looked around. “Right. And where exactly am I supposed to do that? On the air? Or should I balance on one foot like some kind of circus act?”
Regulus rolled his eyes and hopped up onto his kitchen counter, coffee in hand. Sirius sighed and moved toward a section of boxes near the kitchen, picking one at random before sitting on it.
Regulus swung his legs slightly, watching him with an unreadable expression. “Alright,” he said, voice still scratchy with sleep. “What do you want?”
Sirius feigned a look of offense. “Can’t I just visit my little brother?”
Regulus narrowed his eyes. “Cut the shit.”
Sirius sighed. There was no easy way to say this. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the floor before looking back up. “James is remembering.”
Regulus went still. Then, without missing a beat, he tipped his head back and downed the entire cup of coffee in one go. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaled sharply, and set the empty cup down beside him.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet. “What do you mean, James is remembering?”
Sirius exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face before locking eyes with Regulus. "James told me he's having flashes from a past relationship," he says, watching for a reaction.
Regulus's grip tightens around his empty coffee cup, but he keeps his gaze trained on the floor. "Could be Lily," he mutters. "They dated for a while."
Sirius scoffs. "Nice try. He said he hears a man's voice."
That gets Regulus to look up, just for a second, before he schools his expression back into something unreadable.
"He's remembering you, Reggie."
Regulus doesn't flinch, doesn't blink. If Sirius didn’t know better, he’d think his brother hadn’t even heard him.
Sirius leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping lower. "He told me he can't see a face yet, doesn’t know who it is, but he called it a relationship. This isn’t just random flashes of being in a place or hearing a song—he’s remembering what it felt like to love you."
Silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating. Regulus stares at the counter, his jaw tight. He doesn’t say a word.
Sirius watches him carefully, the way his fingers clench around his cup, the slight twitch in his throat like he’s swallowing something back. And Sirius knows. He knows Regulus better than anyone. When they were kids, this was how Regulus always looked when he felt guilty.
"Do you even miss him?" Sirius asks, his voice softer now.
Regulus still doesn’t answer. But this time, he looks away, and that’s answer enough.
Sirius sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "Listen, just… tell him. Tell him it’s you. Or hell, let me and Remus do it. We’ll invite him over for dinner, and you can meet him again. Maybe you won’t even have to say anything—maybe as soon as he sees you, it’ll all come rushing back."
Regulus finally turns back to him, but his eyes… they’re empty. Distant. Like he’s already decided this conversation doesn’t matter. "No."
Sirius blinks. "No? That’s it? No?"
Regulus exhales through his nose, setting the cup down with slow precision. "This was James’s last wish," he says, voice hollow. "He didn’t want me in his life before. I’m not forcing my way in now."
Sirius groans, throwing his hands up. "Oh, for fuc—quit being a dramatic, self-sacrificing little shit. James loved you. Hell, I’m willing to bet he still does."
Regulus tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. Sirius sees it, the way his throat bobs, the way his lashes flutter like he's trying to force back the sting of tears. He exhales slowly through his nose before finally lowering his gaze back to Sirius.
"I know," he murmurs. "I know James has a boyfriend."
Sirius narrows his eyes. "Oh, do you now?" His voice is sharp, edged with something dangerously close to frustration. "Then you also know it’s Kacey, yeah? That bland, soggy piece of white bread?"
Regulus doesn’t respond, just presses his lips together, but Sirius isn’t letting this go.
"You know how I know James doesn’t give a shit about that guy?" Sirius leans forward, pointing at him. "Because he’s been dating Kacey for six months, and I just learned that boy exists. Do you know how many times James has introduced him to me? Or Remus? Or Peter? Go on, guess."
Regulus says nothing.
"That’s right. Zero. Meanwhile, after you so much as kissed James for the first time, he was already talking about weddings and what color flowers you’d have at the damn reception."
Regulus’s breath stutters, just slightly. He blinks hard, eyes glassy for a second before he steels himself again.
Then he looks Sirius dead in the eye and says, voice quiet but firm, "I appreciate you coming here. And I appreciate you telling me. But James and I… that was another life ago. He’s moved on. And so have I."
Sirius stares at him, mouth opening like he wants to argue, to fight, to shake some sense into him. But Regulus is already standing, taking his empty coffee cup to the trash, his body language screaming finality.
"Yeah," he mutters. "You’re real convincing, Reggie."
Sirius sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. His frustration is bleeding through now, raw and unfiltered. He loves his little brother, really, he does, but Regulus is infuriating. And James? James is his best friend, he's part of his soul, and Sirius just wants them both to be happy. But the only thing standing in their way is the stubborn idiot in front of him.
He exhales sharply, leveling Regulus with a look. "I’m sorry, alright? I just don’t get it. Why can’t you and James be together?"
Regulus finally turns to face him, his expression unreadable, but his voice is firm. "Because I’m over him, Sirius. I’ve moved on. Why can’t you understand that?"
Sirius scoffs, and his eyes sweep over the apartment. The packed boxes, the barren space, the goddamn mattress on the floor. It’s pathetic. It’s like Regulus never truly unpacked, never let himself exist here or anyehere. As if he's been holding his breath for the past year, stuck in that single night, the night that never ends, unable to move forward.
"Yeah?" Sirius drawls, crossing his arms. "And how exactly have you moved on?"
Regulus tilts his chin up slightly. "For starters, I’ve been seeing someone."
Sirius nearly chokes. He presses his lips together tightly, trying to keep the laughter at bay. Oh, this is rich.
Regulus, dating? The same Regulus who spent years pining over James like some tragic Shakespearean character? The same Regulus who never so much as looked at another person properly after they finally got together in college? Sirius knows his brother, knows that any so-called boyfriends before James had been nothing but distractions, half-hearted attempts to prove to himself that he wasn’t hopelessly, irreversibly in love with one person.
Regulus must realize how unconvincing he sounds, because he straightens, clearing his throat. "It’s true."
Sirius quirks a skeptical brow. "Sure, sure. What’s his name then?"
Regulus hesitates for only a second before answering, "I’ve been having non-committed sexual intercourse with Dr. Rowler."
That does it. Sirius laughs. A full-bodied, obnoxious laugh that echoes through the empty apartment.
Regulus glares. "What the hell is so funny?"
Sirius wipes at his eyes, still grinning. "Oh, Reg, come on. You? Casual sex? Please. You get emotionally attached to stray cats after feeding them once." He leans against the counter, shaking his head. "Besides, Rowler? He’s at least ten years older than you. Sure, you’ve got daddy issues, but not that many."
Regulus scowls. "That’s not true. I’m actually quite good at sex without commitment. And, if I remember correctly, you thought Dr. Rowler was hot."
Sirius leans back against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I don’t remember ever saying that."
He did, of course. He definitely remembered making some offhand comment about Dr. Rowler being attractive, but that was beside the point. He wasn’t here to talk about Regulus’s alleged sex life, he was here to convince his stubborn little brother to stop being an idiot and talk to James.
His frustration simmers under his skin, but before he can say anything else, his eyes catch on something he hasn’t noticed before. A photo.
It’s stuck to the fridge with a magnet, and Sirius furrows his brows because he's been to this apartment more times than he can count, and yet he's never seen it.
Curious, he pushes himself off the box and walks over, eyes narrowing as he gets closer. It’s a Polaroid. A familiar one.
Regulus’s white coat ceremony.
The magnet holding up the picture is placed just so it covers James’s face, but Sirius doesn’t need to see it. He knows it’s James. He knows because he was the one who took the picture.
In the picture James has his arms slung around Regulus’s shoulders, his head resting on top of Regulus’s like he belongs there, like he always had. Regulus is smiling, an actual, genuine smile, and they look, Sirius swallows hard, they look in love. Like they always did.
Sirius exhales sharply, plucking the Polaroid off the fridge and holding it up. He waves it in the air, turning toward Regulus with a smirk.
"Right, yeah. So over James," he drawls sarcastically. "Totally moved on. That’s why the only picture in this entire apartment is of you and him, pinned to your fridge."
Regulus’s jaw clenches. "Put it back, Sirius."
Sirius ignores him, still staring at the photo. His chest feels tight. "It would hurt less if you were just honest with him," he says, quieter this time.
Regulus sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. "It doesn’t matter," he mutters. "If James really is remembering, then it’s only a matter of time before he remembers the rest. He’ll remember that he was cheating on me, and he’ll be glad not to have me in his life."
Sirius’s head snaps up, irritation flaring hot again. "Oh, for fuck’s sake," he grits his teeth, running a hand through his hair. "Regulus, come on. You really believe that? You think James, THE James Potter, was cheating on you?"
Regulus folds his arms tightly over his chest, lips pressing into a thin line. "I know he was, Sirius."
Sirius lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Right. Yeah. That must be why he spent weeks hunting down a first-pressing vinyl of The Joshua Tree because he needed to be the one to give it to you for your 20th birthday. That’s why he pretended he loved U2 for years, suffered through your Bono obsession, who learned the fucking lyrics to ‘With or Without You’, just to make you smile."
Regulus’s face flickers, something fragile cracking through his defenses.
Sirius steps closer, voice gentler but no less firm. "Does that sound like a guy who didn’t adore you? Who didn’t worship the ground you walked on?" He shakes his head. "James loved you, Reg. He loves you. And whatever story you’ve convinced yourself of? It’s not real."
That does it. Regulus’s expression shifts from defensive to outright pissed. "Are you done coming to my house and torturing me?" His voice is sharp, angry, but Sirius knows his brother. He knows that anger, this anger, is just a mask for something else.
Pain.
And just like that, Sirius softens.
He takes a breath and does what Remus always does when Sirius is on the verge of losing his shit.
He steps forward and hugs him.
Regulus stiffens in surprise as Sirius wraps his arms around him, holding on tight. For a moment, neither of them speaks.
"I’m sorry," Sirius murmurs, his chin resting against Regulus’s shoulder. "I just… I just want you to be happy, alright?"
Regulus is silent for a beat too long. Then he says, barely above a whisper, "I am happy."
Sirius closes his eyes. They both know that’s a lie.
Regulus pulls back just enough to meet Sirius’s gaze. "I’m not going to talk to James," he says firmly. "And I need you to respect that."
Sirius studies him. Sees the exhaustion in his eyes, the way he’s barely holding himself together. It hurts to see him like this.
But Sirius sighs and nods. "Okay."
Regulus blinks, like he hadn’t expected Sirius to give up that easily.
Then Sirius claps him on the shoulder. "Now, go shower and put on something decent. I’m taking you out for food."
Regulus blinks again. "What?"
Sirius grins. "You look like shit, Reggie. It’s frankly offensive to my eyes. Go."
Regulus huffs, but there’s the barest hint of amusement behind his tired expression. "Fine."
And for now, that’s enough.