Chapter 12
[James POV]
James knocked on the bedroom door after a concerningly long stretch of silence, and upon receiving no response, he slipped into the room. Attempting to eavesdrop from the next room was unsuccessful, but everyone jumped when angry French sounded close to the door, and then again when a manic, hysterical laughter broke out. James wished he could’ve been in the room for the brothers’ talk, but that wouldn’t’ve helped anyone.
There were clothes scattered by the foot of the bed—by the looks of it, they were Regulus’—and there, propped up against the headboard, sat Sirius with a sleeping, blanket-wrapped Regulus in his arms. There were fresh tears on both their faces, and Sirius’ eyes were red when he met James’ gaze.
The man’s eyes slipped closed, and a new round of tears spilled from under Sirius’ lashes. James’ words died in his throat.
“C’mere,” Sirius whispered, motioning with his head to the spot beside him on the bed. James complied slowly, careful to not jostle Regulus. Sirius leaned his head on James’ shoulder when he was close enough.
James sighed as deeply as he could. “How are you?”
Sirius huffed a laugh riddled with guilt and pain, and the sound went straight to James’ heart. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been worse, James,” Sirius whispered, the confession carrying the weight of over a decade of irreparable damage.
“And him?”
He felt Sirius shake his head. “What have I done?” Sirius breathed, and James felt unbearably small in the face of such a question and its multitude of implications.
“What happened to him wasn’t your fault, Sirius. You were a kid, too,” James said, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ shoulders.
“Regardless, I did far more harm to him than good.”
“Maybe so, but he escaped.”
Sirius went silent and his shoulders stiffened. “I didn’t even ask if he got out before…before he came out.”
Warm tears soaked through the shoulder of James’ shirt. “Hey, Padfoot, listen to me. I’m not going to tell you that you’ve done nothing wrong over the years—”
“Well, now I feel better—”
“But, your parents are the ones who did this to him, Sirius.”
Sirius raised his head to look James in the eyes. “Do you know what they did to him? Do you even know the scale of what’s been done?” Those grey eyes peered deep into James’ soul, nearly as deep as Regulus’ could, and goosebumps erupted up his arms.
He didn’t know. He’d felt the rough topography of Regulus’ waist under the club lights, but he’d never gotten a good look. And he knew better than to bring it up to the younger man. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, not when he spent so long helping Sirius heal and saw how deep the trauma really went.
“He’s not alone anymore, Pads. And he’ll never be alone again,” James whispered, knowing nothing else that could bring comfort to his best friend. Regulus shifted in Sirius’ arms and sighed in his sleep, and it was perhaps the most relaxed that James had ever seen him. The usual frown and crease in his brow were smoothed out, and his long, dark eyelashes were splayed across his cheeks like an angel.
Sirius’ eyes softened when he looked at the boy in his arms, and James was sure his own expression exhibited similar change. “You like him, don’t you?” Sirius whispered, and James didn’t have the heart to lie to his best friend, not at a time like this.
“Ever since I laid eyes on him, Sirius. I’m sorry.” James said, taking a page out of Sirius’ book and leaning his head on the man’s shoulder.
“I’m not mad,” Sirius said, and James could feel the vibration of the words and the weight they carried. “He deserves something good,” he added, barely audible.
The confession was only four words, but the man from which the words came sounded of a memory, a hushed conversation before the fireplace in the living room when James was still too young to understand the words he’d held with him for decades:
“His parents aren’t looking for him. He’s ours, now, dear.”
Mother’s cheeks gleamed in the flickering light of the fireplace, and through the railing at the top of the stairs, James realized the woman was crying. “I want to smother that boy in hugs, Monty. He’s just a kid.”
Father took Mother’s hands in his and brought her fingers to his lips, placing delicate kisses on each knuckle. “He deserves something good. Let’s be that something.”
James remembered that moment with visceral clarity; Mother seldom cried, and rarely were those tears due to grief. Hidden at the top of the stairs, James had felt something akin to desperation grip his heart, and he’d creeped to Sirius’ room, if only to ensure the boy was still there, still breathing, still the force of nature James knew and loved.
Regulus shifted in Sirius’ arms again and a soft groan slipped through his lips. His eyes twitched under his lashes and he slowly blinked awake.
“Fuck,” he muttered with the conviction of a mantra, and met James’ eyes. “Fuck,” he said again, eyes wide.
James’ cheeks flushed and he sat up straight. “Sirius and I were talking, don’t worry.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow. “What is it that I should worry about, Potter?”
“I, um, well—”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “I swear to god, no flirting in my bed!”
James laughed and got out of the bed, rummaging through the closet to find one of his old soccer sweatshirts from university that he kept at Remus and Sirius’ place. He found it and handed it to Regulus, who was clutching the blanket wrapped around his upper body.
“I’ll, um, give you guys a minute,” he said, wishing he could hide his bright red ears as he exited the bedroom. Pandora, Barty, and Evan were nowhere to be seen, and Remus was in the kitchen, humming to himself when James found him.
“Hey, Prongs,” Remus said, leaning against the sink.
James grunted a greeting and plopped onto one of the stools by the kitchen table. “I’m so tired, Moons,” he mumbled.
Remus huffed a soft laugh and placed a steaming cup of tea in front of James. “How are the brothers?” He asked, his worry saturating his demeanor in an entirely different way from Sirius. Since James had known him, Sirius felt loudly. He didn’t try to hide his worry, and Remus had once described Sirius’ existence as “upper case,” and James couldn’t help but agree. Remus was “lower case,” as Sirius had countered, and it was true; the man never yelled, never outwardly portrayed displeasure as anything more than a slight frown or narrowed eyes. He spoke firmly when annoyed, but when worried, he made far more eye contact than usual, reading every move of James’ body. And Remus was the smartest man James had ever met. He wasn’t just book smart, but he had emotional intelligence that could rival Regulus’.
Regulus.
“Regulus just woke up. Neither of them are doing well, but they have each other.” Sirius and Regulus finally had each other, and James knew they’d never be separated again.
Remus hummed and sipped his tea, eyes flicking towards the bedroom. Moments later, the door opened and James wondered if perhaps Remus was psychic.
Regulus exited first, wrapped in sweatpants and James’ sweatshirt—good lord, was this how James died?—and Sirius followed suit, rubbing his eyes. Regulus gave James his signature raised eyebrow and James schooled his expression into something neutral-adjacent, hoping to god that he hadn’t been drooling.
“Good afternoon, darling,” Remus greeted, pressing a kiss to Sirius’ lips. James gagged and Sirius sent him a glare. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regulus. I apologize for the context of our introduction, but I’m glad for your presence nonetheless.”
Regulus’ mouth opened and a strangled “est-il réel?” slipped out. Sirius barked a laugh. “Comment l'as-tu convaincu de t'épouser?” Regulus whispered, eyes wide, and Sirius doubled over, clutching his stomach.
Remus smiled crookedly, glancing at his husband with amusement. “J’aime son cul,” Remus muttered into his mug of tea and Regulus’ face reddened. Sirius was on the floor, still laughing like a maniac.
“Tu parles français?”
Remus held up his pointer finger and thumb. “Un peu.”
“Mais tu connais ‘cul’?”
From the floor, still catching his breath, Sirius piped up: “Apparently I say it too much.”
“Gross,” Regulus said, taking a seat next to James.
Remus busied himself with making Regulus and Sirius some coffee, poking Sirius with his toe as he did so. “Why don’t you get our guests something to eat?”
Sirius gaped from the floor. “Guests? Everyone in this room has seen me naked, Remus.”
Regulus scowled, “I never wanted to think about that again, thank you very much.”
Remus sighed and shook his head at Sirius, who got up to search the cabinets without another word. “So, Regulus, you’re in a band?” Remus asked, placing a mug of coffee in front of him.
“Yeah, we’re on tour right now. They keep adding shows to the tour, though, so we’ve been in the same four towns for like a month and a half,” he said, sipping his coffee. The tension in his shoulders released as the mug warmed his hands, and James wanted to kiss him senseless.
Sirius set a bowl of miscellaneous fruit on the table and smirked—could he read James’ thoughts? “James is an avid fan of yours, you know.”
“After your third show, I’d assume you’re either an avid fan or a stalker,” Regulus said, unfazed. The only true match for a Black was another Black, James mused.
“I’d like to see a performance,” Remus said, the master facilitator. “Can we come to the next one?” He asked, and Regulus’ eyes slipped to Sirius.
“I didn’t see the one I, er—crashed,” he said, guilt pouring from his expression.
Regulus shrugged. “I mean, yeah, you can. But I don’t think Sirius will want to.”
Sirius squawked, “I’ve listened to some of your songs, you know—”
James had to laugh at that, knowing exactly what Regulus was getting at. Regulus shot him a smirk and James drowned his grin in his tea.
“Alright, then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Our next show is about thirty minutes from here. In a week, I think?”
Remus nodded and smiled.
“I should head back to the hotel. The band is probably worried sick,” Regulus said after a moment of silence, and Sirius lurched forward, gripping the edge of the table with shaking fingers.
“Will you…come back?” He whispered, and James hated how quiet the usually loud man’s voice was. “Please, mon étoile, I can’t lose you again.”
Regulus took a deep breath and dipped his pinky into his mug, swirling the remaining coffee in a circle. “I don’t know how to forgive you, Sirius, but I’m not mad at you anymore,” he said, his words slow and deliberate. “Je n'ai jamais appris à te laisser partir, Sirius.”
Sirius pulled Regulus into a hug, his eyes teary again. “I love you, mon étoile. You’re always welcome here.”
When Regulus pulled away from the embrace, he gathered his things from the bedroom and James followed, stopping just inside the doorway. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” He asked, again savoring the way Regulus looked in his clothes. Regulus shrugged and James took that as a yes.
“I really like you, Regulus. Like a lot. Can I take you out tomorrow? Or sometime before your next show?”
Regulus snorted a laugh. “You know, I don’t let just any fan shove their tongue down my throat.”
James blushed, willing himself to not think about that night in the club. “Right….”
Regulus shook his head and a ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. “Tomorrow evening?” He reached up to pull James into a kiss and James nearly died then and there.
“It’s a date,” James said, grinning like a fool.