A Futile Summer

Regulus wakes up to the smell of coffee and something burning.

He groans, burying his face into his pillow, willing the world to disappear—but then there’s a loud clatter from the kitchen, followed by an extremely enthusiastic, “Shit—Sirius, that was NOT my fault!”

Regulus’ eyes snap open. Right. Potter’s here.

He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, already regretting every decision that led to this moment. The summer was supposed to be peaceful. Quiet. Just him, Sirius, and the occasional drop-in from their friends. Instead, James fucking Potter has somehow wedged himself into the picture, him and his friends but him’s the worst part, all bright smiles and loud footsteps and the world’s worst attempts at cooking breakfast.

Another crash.

“That better not be my plate, you absolute wanker!” Sirius yells.

Regulus sighs and drags himself out of bed, resigned to the fact that there will be no sleeping in today.

When he enters the kitchen, it’s somehow worse than he imagined.

James Potter is standing there, holding a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other, his hair even messier than usual. There’s flour on his cheek and what looks like a very burnt pancake in the sink.

Sirius is leaning against the counter, watching it all unfold with the kind of amusement only an older brother could have. His tongue is resting over his upper teeth, trying to retain the smile that slips out of him. His younger brother catches it.

Regulus crosses his arms. “What the fuck are you doing?”

James turns to him, looking far too chipper for someone who just single-handedly destroyed breakfast. “Good morning to you too, Reggie.”

Regulus’ eye twitches. “Don’t call me that.”

“Aw,” James pouts, “but Sirius calls you Reggie.”

Regulus pulls a grimace. “Yes, and I hate him enough for it, too.”

Sirius slips out a laugh. “That’s fair.”

James grins—like actually grins, like this is the most fun he’s had in ages—and Regulus doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand how someone like James Potter can be so relentlessly cheerful. It’s exhausting.

Like, hats off to him, Regulus supposes. It could never be him.

So he does what he does best: he rolls his eyes, grabs a coffee mug, and pretends James Potter doesn’t exist.

A truce. Not in words, not in handshakes. Just in shared space and tolerated presence. He hates the way he looks so—

Oh, fucking hell. Does his biceps always have to look so fucking edible? Regulus clears his throat, which owns Sirius’ reaction. “Old hag didn’t see you sneak out last night?”

Regulus shrugs. “She probably did. Don’t give a shite either way.”

“That’s my boy!” Sirius grins and claps both of his hands on Regulus’ shoulders, making him startle a bit. He rolls his eyes, trying to catch the smile that’s about to slip.

James smiles at Regulus’ groan. He’s still leaning against the counter, stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh, and—

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Regulus pointedly looks away. He is not going to spend his morning analysing the way James Potter exists in his space. He is not going to notice how his shirt rides up just enough to show a sliver of golden skin, or how the muscle in his forearm flexes as he lazily stirs his coffee, or—

Regulus drags his gaze back to Sirius instead, who is watching him like he knows exactly what’s going through his head.

He scowls. “What?”

Sirius’ grin is nothing short of wicked. “Nothing, nothing,” he sing-songs, plopping down into a chair.

Regulus clears his throat. Sirius changes the subject.

“So… I got you a new tongue piercing—”

James immediately chokes on his drink. He coughs violently. His ears are bright red. “Tongue piercing?! Since—uh—fucking when?”

“Last summer,” Regulus shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. He traps the piercing between his teeth. “Got it with Barty and Evan.”

It’s true. Regulus got it with his friends, after a drunken night, which is now why he despises being drunk nowadays. He’s successfully kept it from Walburga, no idea how, if he’s honest, and every few months, he receives a new one from Sirius. Kreacher helps him to make the packages quiet and immediate to Regulus’ room.

James’ eyebrows fly to his hairline, and he visibly struggles to find his words. His voice is high pitched and his gaze is locked on Regulus’ mouth.

His head is slightly tilted, his eyes narrowed, and his lips parted.

It’s utterly maddening.

“Oh.” He chokes out, blinking rapidly. “It’s lovely, Reg.”

“Yes. Well.” Regulus stares at him incredulously. “I should return back to the house. Mother’ll start to get suspicious. Give me the piercing when I come back, idiot.” He walks away.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Of course I will, you ungrateful little shit.” Regulus only answers by giving him lazy wave over the shoulder.

The door closes with a soft click.

When Regulus walks out, Sirius snorts. James punches him on the shoulder, his lips pursed and his eyes widened. “Ow! What the fuck was that for?” Sirius covers his shoulder with his palm.

“You didn’t tell me he got a tongue piercing!”

Sirius blinks. “Well. Was I supposed to tell your panicking arse?”

“Urgh—obviously!” James answers incredulously, waving his hands around in the air. “He’s like, a fucking baby! He can’t have that!”

“Blimey, Prongs.” Sirius snorts. “Let the bloke do whatever he wants. He ain’t your boyfriend, you know that?”

“I know. Obviously.” James freezes. The words seem to hang in the air. He tries to shove the sting of it down and crosses his arms stubbornly. “I know. I’m aware. I’m… I—Well—I mean—I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.” His gaze hardens. He never wants to argue with Sirius when his gaze is cold it’s—well. It’s heartbreaking, really. To see all of his emotions out of his eyes.

Sirius’ words aren’t what get to him—it’s the way his eyes look at him. There’s nothing there. Nothing warm like he’s used to. It feels like they’re oceans apart, even though they’re in the same room.

The look on Sirius’ face makes him want to turn away. He doesn’t like this side of his friend. It makes him feel—well, terribly small. Pathetic, isn’t it?

He glances at Sirius, a small grin creeping onto his face despite the awkwardness.

Without thinking, he leans over and gives Sirius a quick, sloppy peck on the neck, the kind that’s more of a gesture of friendly affection than anything else.

Sirius lets out a surprised laugh, slapping James playfully on the shoulder. “Oi, what was that for?” he laughs, rubbing his neck like he’s genuinely shocked.

James chuckles nervously, his cheeks burning. “Sorry, Pads. Won’t ever do that again!”

Sirius just smirks, clearly amused. “You’re a bloody weirdo, Prongs. But I’ll take it.” He gives James a knowing look, one that says he’s very aware of the situation, even if James won’t admit it out loud.

James rolls his eyes, but there’s a glimmer of something in them. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Sirius just raises an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, I won’t. But hey, if that makes you feel better about whatever you’re trying to suppress, be my guest. I never mind a bit of affection.” He winks.

James can feel the heat rising in his face. He’s not sure if it’s because of the way Sirius is teasing him or because of everything he’s trying to ignore about Regulus.

“You’re a bloody mess, you know that?” Sirius says with a soft laugh, nudging James in the ribs.

“Yeah, I know,” James mumbles. “But that’s nothing new.”

The air between them is light, but the heavy thoughts in James’ head make it impossible to fully relax. His eyes flicker back to the door, wondering if Regulus is still nearby.

It’s maddening.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually worried about little Reggie now, huh?” Sirius says, as if reading his mind, his voice softer than usual.

James blinks, not ready to face the truth of it. “What? No,” he says too quickly. “I mean, it’s just a piercing. Whatever. He can do his own thing. Isn’t he like, eighteen?”

But Sirius isn’t fooled. “Right. You know that’s the most contradictory thing you’ve ever said, right?” James shrugs. Sirius lets it go. “Sure, Prongs. Whatever you say.”

James doesn’t say anything else, letting the conversation hang awkwardly. But deep down, he knows something’s stirring, and it’s definitely not going to stay buried for long.

***

James leans back in his chair, absently twirling his empty coffee mug between his fingers. The afternoon sun is already starting to fade, casting a warm, golden glow across the backyard. He can hear the distant hum of music from the party happening a few streets over, but here, it’s just the quiet of the trees and the soft buzz of insects in the air.

Sirius is talking about setting up a bonfire tonight, tossing out ideas like it’s nothing. “We should do it at the back of the house, you know. Get the fire going before dark so we can drink and chat and—”

“Sounds good,” James says, grinning lazily. “As long as we have enough beer. That’s really all that matters, right?”

“Don’t you worry, love. I’ve got it all sorted.” Mary’s grin turns mischievous.

“Good!” Peter says, half asleep, drooling on Remus’ shoulder. “Can I go back to sleep?”

“Pete. It’s literally one PM,” Remus says incredulously.

Peter shrugs. “Exactly.”

Lily sighs and shakes her head in amusement. She raises from her chair and puts down her book. “Gonna grab a beer. Who wants one?” Quite literally every figures in the room raises their hands, which makes Lily snort. “Figured.”

“Comin’ with ya!” Marlene jumps off her chair. So does Mary and Remus, freeing himself from Peter’s grasp.

“Remus!” Peter whines, raising from his chair, following Remus around like a lost puppy. All of their friends left to the kitchen, happy chatters emerging from it. It’s warm. The way they all laugh and enjoy their time. James purses his lips and smiles softly.

“We can even invite, err. The little family, if you’re up for it.”

James raises an eyebrow. “You mean Regulus?” He tries not to sound too sharp, but the thought of Regulus showing up—even if it’s just for the bonfire—has his stomach twisting in strange knots.

“Yeah, why not? He’s been on my mind lately, mate.” Sirius says with a teasing smirk. “It’s been a while since he joined us for anything. Thought I’d invite him, so.”

James hesitates. He knows it’s not his choice to make, it’s Sirius’. Well, actually, it’s Regulus’, but. He just knows. “He won’t come, you know.” His voice is quiet, more to himself than to Sirius. He thinks about the way Regulus keeps to himself, always standing on the outskirts of their little group, always too distant, too reserved.

Even when his odd friend group join them at their usual bonfires (which James is one hundred percent sure they will), he sometimes declines the offers.

Sirius shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt to ask. I’ve got a feeling he’ll be up for it.”

James stays silent, forcing a half-hearted smile. The thought of Regulus joining them makes his chest tighten, but he knows deep down that it’s never been that simple. Regulus wouldn’t come.

***

The bonfire crackles, sending sparks into the cool night air. It’s a chilly night tonight, and laughter floats through his ears as many odd anecdotes are told from Sirius’ voice, which earns him groans and laughs and cups thrown at him. James is focused on the sparks, though. They’re flying all around the backyard, settles around the fire. The night’s just starting to feel alive, and, well. James is content. Sort of.

The conversation swirl around him, mostly nonsense, and Barty and Evan are joking around with Sirius and Peter, Dorcas and Marlene are off doing God-knows what God-knows-where, and Pandora, Lily and Remus get into a heated discussion with each other. It’s friendly, James is aware. It’s still a bit funny how Pandora catches everyone’s attention when she utters words, though. She’s also quite batshit crazy, the way Barty is. But, she’s kind, and he’s just… well, Barty.

His mind keeps drifting, slowly waving his head to the music’s rhythm. He’s a bit tipsy. Only a bit—enough to cause him a bit of slurred speech, but still. Only just a tiny bit.

He glances across the fire to where Sirius is throwing out another wild idea—something about skinny-dipping or eating the bonfire’s crackles—and it pulls James’ attention just enough to make him momentarily forget the lingering thought that has been gnawing at him all night: Regulus.

Because while Sirius invited him, he hadn’t shown up. Of course he hadn’t.

James knows better than to expect him to. Regulus doesn’t do groups. Regulus doesn’t do them.

But for some reason, tonight, James can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

It’s only when he stands up to grab another beer in the kitchen inside the house that he notices the figure, standing by the edge of the docks, just out of the reach of the firelight. The silhouette is too familiar to be anyone else.

It’s Regulus.

James feels his heart stutter in his chest, his steps faltering. There’s no reason for him to be out there, no reason for him to be alone, but there he is.

A cold shiver runs down James’ spine as he stands frozen for a moment, watching Regulus’ figure sway slightly in the breeze, his head tilted down, like he’s lost in thought or something else entirely. His back never hunched, always straight. James knows that for a fact. Sirius’ the same, too.

“Okay, yeah. You got this. Fuck it.” James mutters under his breath, grabbing two beers this time—one for himself and one for Regulus, even though he has no idea why. He steps away from the fire, the sounds of the group fading into the background as he makes his way toward the docks.

The street is empty, save for a few rustling trees and the sounds of summer evening.

With each step, the air grows thicker, the crackle of the bonfire feeling miles away. He isn’t really sure what to expect when he reaches Regulus but, maybe it’s the silence of the night or the way Regulus’ spine comes to a halt when he hears a leaf cracking down James’ shoe but. He slightly turns his head, his eyes following where his body goes.

“James.” he says, his voice quiet but not unkind.

James smiles awkwardly, holding out the beer he brought. “Thought you might want one.” He gestures vaguely toward the backyard, where the laughter from the bonfire still rises in the distance.

Regulus raises an eyebrow. “What, you came all the way here to give me a beer?”

“Well, yeah,” James says, slightly defensive, but also unable to hide the small grin tugging at his lips. “Sirius invited you, didn’t he?”

Regulus snorts. “You bloody idiot.” He takes the beer from James with a quiet smile.

James shifts on his feet, feeling a little out of place standing here, but something about Regulus’ presence—so different from the group at the fire—makes his chest tighten in a way he can’t explain.

“So.” James begins, clearing his throat, “you like sitting out here on your own, huh?” He nods toward the water.

Regulus’ eyes narrow slightly, but his tone is more neutral than anything. “Just sit down, Potter.”

James jumps to his feet, hurrying to sit beside Regulus while groaning while he puts himself down. “That’s James to you.”

He can practically feel Regulus rolling his eyes. “Right.”

Similar to Sirius, Regulus is cold. Cold hands, cool gray eyes like the moon’s. But when James sits beside him, the heat of his figure embraces him and makes him feel all weird. He straightens, trying to pull himself together. By doing so, he gets closer to Regulus.

Isn’t it mad how James, described as one glowing individual, feels like he couldn’t ever give the same warmth Regulus, possibly the coldest individual ever, is sharing with him as of now?

“So.” James says again, voice softer this time. “You’ve got a kink for disappearing then, huh?”

Regulus glances at him out of the corner of his eyes but doesn’t say anything. The only reason James can tell is because of moon’s glow and the waves’ reflection, both of their feet hanging over.

“Not one for crowds.”

James blinks, unsure of what to do with that. He’s always been the Sun—he gravitates toward the center of things, of people. He gets people. But honestly? By times?

He just wants the world to be quiet, for a day or two. Just for a bit, so he can regain his thoughts altogether and make sense of his own life and his brain. The thing he’s forced to live with 24/7.

“Fair enough.” His voice softens even more, which James wasn’t sure was possible. Maybe it was the Regulus effect. “I, err. I get it.”

James, from the reflection of the waves, can see Regulus smile sadly. He can feel that he doesn’t believe those words, which aches him, because he means it. Some part of it, at least. The night air grows by every minute, and James wants more. Needs more. He wants to ask Regulus more, wants to figure him out. But every question gets stuck in his throat, like every time he would even think about speaking he was swallowing a still beating heart. He’s not sure how to speak to someone so unreachable. So out of reach.

Regulus shifts just slightly, pulling his legs closer to his chest and resting his head. For a moment—a painful one—James is sure he’ll pull away and leave, like he always does. He doesn’t really expect anything else. But then, Regulus doesn’t.

“So… what do you do when you’re not avoiding parties and hanging around docks?” James blurts out, the still beating heart’s still beating, but he found a way to swallow it. His voice sounds stupid to his own but he doesn’t care. He just wants to know. Needs to know.

Regulus raises an eyebrow, that same wry little smile playing at his lips. “Avoiding idiots, mostly.”

“Ah. Well, I reckon I’m lucky to be the exception then.” He answers with a grin, heart hammering to his chest. Yes. It is cold out, not an odd reason for him to have a quick pulse.

James doesn’t push. He instead lays back and stares at the water, letting the silence between them stretch like a familiar tension that’s somehow comfortable. For a while, neither of them speak. The bonfire’s warmth is a distant hum now, and Regulus’ warmth is weaker, but still. It’s better.

“You know, it’s unfair.” James continues.

The younger man scowls, and there’s that wrinkle between his eyebrows again. “What is?”

”That you have a nickname for me, and I don’t have one for you. It’s a nuisance.”

”You’re a nuisance,” Regulus mumbles under his breath, shifting a bit. James, once again, thinks for a moment that he’s made a mistake, but Regulus continues. “Plus, weren’t you the one that started the whole ‘baby Black’ thing? And also, I reckon that calling you by your last name hardly counts as a nickname. It’s just me calling you by your name.”

It’s true, he did. Back when Regulus started school, only a year after them. James felt that there was animosity that Regulus sprawled out onto him, and he wanted to smooth it out. So he tried to come up with a nickname only he could use to do so, but then… everybody started to use it and it wasn’t James and Regulus’ thing anymore.

“I was, in fact!” James says, a bit loud and prideful, which makes Regulus tssks and roll his eyes. “And trust me. You calling me by my last name? No matter how much you hate it—it’s endearing. But everybody started to call you that. It’s not fun anymore.” Regulus stays quiet. “There’s still Reg, and Reggie. But those are Sirius’.”

Regulus scoffs bitterly, “No they’re not.”

“They are, though.” And it’s a statement. James’ voice is soft. (Regulus knows it’s meaningless, but it makes it a little bit easier to hear him out.)

“Then,” he continues, “there’s always the endearing nicknames but I don’t want you to slit my throat if I ever call you… Sugarplums, for example.”

“Good. You know what’ll happen if you call me that ever again.” James laughs.

“Sweetness?” He tries again.

“No.”

“My darling?”

“No.”

“Buttercup?”

Regulus gags. “God, no.”

“Love?” And there it is again.

That wrinkle. Regulus seems to hesitate on it, so James takes his chance before Regulus can spit out any odd insult of his. “There it is, then. Your new nickname!”

Regulus only groans. It’s still a win, in James’ mind. It’s always a win if he can get a reaction out of him.

Regulus shifts again, quieter this time, but also bolder. His ankle is touching James’ thigh, and it’s driving James a bit crazy. Well, not Regulus touching him, obviously. He just dislikes it when his knee is touched, he supposes. Something he didn’t know until, well, now.

But with his ankle getting closer, so is his body. And that heat? In a cool air of a night in summertime?

It doesn’t matter who it’s from, James assumes. He’s just a bit lucky it’s coming from Regulus and no one else.

Isn’t it mad how James, the one who’s always known how to shine and light up a room, now feels like he’s the one searching for warmth?

He watches Regulus out of the corner of his eye, noticing the way the moonlight catches the sharp angles of his face. For just a moment, he lets himself think about how it might feel to be that stillness. To not always have to fill the silence.

But before he can dwell on it for too long, Regulus clears his throat. “If you came out here to talk about your feelings, Potter,” he says, “You can go back to your bloody bonfire.”

James chuckles, but it’s not a nervous laugh this time. It feels easy, relaxed. It startles Regulus, he can tell. “I’m not really the feelings type.” he says, the words coming out lighter than he expected. But his voice falters just a little when he adds, “But I—well, I do like being here with you. Weird as that sounds.”

Regulus doesn’t look at him, but the way his lips twitch at the corner, the tiniest movement, tells James that maybe it’s not that weird.

He stays silent, for now, because somehow, this quiet is more than enough.

***

When James wakes up in the morning, he feels cold. It’s nothing like the warm that hugged him the night before, the way his shoulder grazed Regulus’ or the way he felt the hair in his neck rise every time it happened. 

When James wakes up in the morning, it’s also a real fucking mess. His eyes snap open and he quickly rises from his bed, realising he’s laying next to Remus somehow?

Well, it doesn’t quite shock him that much. When Remus and Sirius get into a heated argument, one of them just goes to sleep with James in his bed. And of course James, the bestest mate someone could ever ask for, never minded. He doesn’t mind stuff. He never does.

He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. Last night feels euphoric. Gods curse him for being tipsy because there’s only a few he could make out from it, which irritated him enough as it is. He doesn’t regret missing out on the bonfire, though. 

Bonfires? He does that all the time. Constantly.

But being next to Regulus? He can never have that. So. Might as well ‘enjoy’ it while he can.

James sighs and drags himself out of bed, covering Remus with an additional blanket. Remus is going to yell at him later, he’s sure but still. You can never be too careful, he guesses.

When James is near the bathroom, muffled groans and hisses can be heard. James doesn’t care. He needs to wash the entirety of his face to wake himself up, and people blocking the bathroom will not do.

And when James enters the room, Barty looks at him over Evan’s shoulders.

Somebody buy him bleach. Please?

”Barty. Evan. Decent, as ever,”

James rolls his eyes and closes them, slapping a hand over his pair. He closes the door when Evan answers with a chuckle and a whine, ”Yup!”

When James careens down the stairs toward the kitchen, he expects Lily, Mary or Marlene, possibly Sirius if he was lucky. Well, he does find Lily, alongside… Regulus.

Having a… civil conversation?

His footsteps falter as he rounds the corner. He blinks twice, certain he’s imagining it, but no—there they are. Lily, smiling at Regulus like she doesn’t mind the man who, not too long ago, made her life miserable in school. And Regulus? He’s laughing. A low, soft sound that James never thought he’d hear from the man who’s spent most of his life perfecting that icy stare.

James loudly clears his throat to make his presence known, not that—he assumes—Regulus cares the slightest. He envies her, really. She made him laugh. Didn’t they like, properly had a chat only two days ago, when they first arrived here? It’s a bit annoying how she got him into her pocket so easily.

But well, James is aware she is Lily Evans, her undefeated emerald eyes and bold smile. He just wishes he could get anything out of Regulus other than groans and insults. So he doesn’t mind. He just hopes that at one point he could accomplish that, too. It’s pure normalcy in James-way-of-being, really.

He doesn’t know how to react. He really doesn’t know how to react. His mouth opens and closes, and he clears his throat once again, loud enough to make sure they know he’s standing there.

Both their heads snap toward him. Regulus’ frown is immediate, a small crease forming between his eyebrows as if he’s just been disturbed in the middle of something important. It’s the same frown he always wears when James is around—sharp, dismissive, but still. There’s something else there. Something James can’t quite place.

He opens his mouth and closes it again, standing awkwardly in stance, not knowing what words to utter at the moment. Lily does, though, and she smiles at Regulus. Her beam is wide. “Well, then. I suppose that’s my cue.”

Regulus scowls. And there’s that wrinkle again, the one James has always wished he could just press his thumb on it to smooth it out. He finally acknowledges James, and there’s the faintest chance that his voice softened for a second, then turns back as dry and sharp as it always is.

James watches her go, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but his attention is quickly pulled back to Regulus, who’s now stirring his coffee with an exaggerated slowness, like he’s trying to give James time to catch up.

“Potter.” Regulus calls out, his tone clipped, almost bored. He stirs his coffee while Lily strides out on the bench that sits porch, reading her ink next to Sirius. 

“Love.” James says, without thinking. Oh. Yes, that is one of the few things he remembers of last night. (Thank goodness.)

The word falls from his lips almost naturally, too easily. And Regulus, ever so slightly, stirs the coffee just a little too vigorously in response, his hand trembling for just a split second before he hides it.

Regulus only mumbles some curses under his breath as an alternative answer.

James settles onto the bench next to Regulus, leaning in just enough to tease him with his proximity. Regulus, for his part, doesn’t acknowledge the move—he pretends to focus solely on his coffee, though James can tell his mind is elsewhere.

“Cursed it with the taste of despair again, Black?” James asks, grinning a bit too widely. It’s a joke that has no real punchline, but it’s always one Regulus responds to with a groan.

Regulus only blinks at him deathly. One word. “Unbearable.”

James puts his index finger on his chin and pretends to think. “Endearing.”

“Conceited.” Regulus’ eye twitch. 

“Adorable.”

“Exasperating.”

“Charming!”

Regulus blinks and gets up. “Die.” He strolls out the door, waving an obscene gesture over his shoulder.

James, utterly delighted, leans back in his chair with a shit-eating grin. “See you later, love!” he calls, just to be insufferable. Yeah. Just to be annoying.

Regulus doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate, but James swears he sees lightest, slightest of smile before he disappears down the hallway.

Sirius, who has been watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement, lets out a loud snort. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

James stretches his arms behind his head, smug. “Not when I’m winning, no, Prongsie.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Winning what, exactly?”

James shrugs, gaze flickering toward the doorway where Regulus had vanished. “Dunno yet,” he admits, voice softer now. “But I’ll let you know when I do!”

Sirius huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re a menace.”

James grins. “And you’re just mad I’m your future brother-in-law, you know, ‘cause he’s so obsessed with me—”

That earns him a cushion to the face.