James' arm reached for the other side of the bed before he was fully awake, subconsciously searching. His eyes cracked open when he was met with cold, rumpled sheets. He sighed, fumbling for his glasses and shuffling out of the room. Regulus was hunched over the kitchen counter with a piping bag in hand, painstakingly filling rows and rows of small flaky balls of dough with icing. His hair was pulled back for once and he was wearing his bulky headphones, shuffling around in his fuzzy socks in a modest little dance that made James smile fondly. James leaned his hip against the side of the counter, waiting for his boyfriend to notice him, admiring the way his mouth curled up as he softly sang the words to the music playing from his headphones and the steady move of his thin hands, piping perfect swirls into each open half of the pastry spheres.
Each night, James would coax him out of the kitchen to go to bed together, and Regulus would lie there with his racing thoughts for an hour or more before eventually going back to the kitchen, or his notebook full of his messily scrawled ideas, or his computer to triple check his order of stand mixers. His mind was a ticking clock, counting down the days and weeks until the unveiling of his bakery, and when he would find out if he would sink or swim in the business. Regulus graduated a year ago from Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, filled with pride that set him alight and a sharp determination to open the best French patisserie London has ever seen. For the last eight months, he's been obsessively trying new recipes and remastering old ones for the menu, on his feet for what seemed like days on end, covered in flour and baking sugar, bits of dough caked under his nails. Regulus had a dream, and every day he worked his arse off to see it come true. James admired that about his boyfriend, he loved seeing Regulus come to life when he spoke about the plans for his shop, the desserts he wanted to make, and even the colors of the tablecloths and wallpaper. Sirius had drawn up the designs for him, beautiful watercolor pictures outlined in a thin black pen, idyllic drawings that were now hung up on their fridge.
Regulus, entirely unaware James was watching him, bopping his head to his music, turned to add more icing to his bag from the bowl in front of James and screeched in surprise when they came face to face, instinctively throwing the bag at his face with incredible force, sending white icing splattering everywhere from the open bottom. James let out his own squeal of surprise that quickly devolved into a wheezy laugh, lifting his hands to wipe the creamy icing off his glasses. Regulus merely groaned, catching his breath and shoving his headphones off and around his neck, glaring at James in faux annoyance.
"You- your face," James laughed, pointing at Regulus, "What was that noise you made? Oh my god, that was incredible."
Regulus batted his hand away from his face, "It's the middle of the night, I thought you were a burglar!"
"Well, you have a brilliant defense tactic, death by icing, very effective."
"You're lucky I didn't wallop you instead!" Regulus swiped at him playfully and James ducked under his arm, tackling his middle, and rubbed his messy face on Regulus' cheek to smear the icing, James' arms wrapped around his waist so he couldn't escape the assault. "Oh, James! Get off! You're making a complete mess!"
James pulled back, flicking his tongue against Regulus' cheek to taste it, "Hey, you started it. Tastes great though, what is it?" He asked, grabbing a plaid kitchen towel from the hook above the sink, and using it to wipe his face and glasses clean.
"Profiteroles, they're like cream puffs," Regulus plucked one off the metal baking tray and popped it into James' mouth, "I wanted to try a hazelnut and peach filling, but it was far too sweet and the peaches made it too heavy, so I was trying to adjust the measurements, but now I can't taste the hazelnut anymore."
"I like it," James mumbled around the pastry, dusted sugar and flaky dough light on his tongue, "I see what you mean about the hazelnut."
Regulus sighed, nodding in defeat and untying the knot in his apron, "I'm a shite baker that's never getting anywhere in life. I'm going to have to work the till at a shitty London bakery to make a living, forced to clean the filthy loos and make pleasantries with customers. I won't survive that, you know I hate talking to people."
James rolled his eyes fondly, "You're exhausted, lovely, you've been at this for hours. You know how I can tell? You always get melodramatic when you're knackered," He booped Regulus on the nose with the towel before wiping at the icing he left behind on his boyfriend's face, one hand steadied on his shoulder, "You're a brilliant pastry chef, the best I've ever known, even though I've never met another one, I'm quite sure you're still the best. You'll figure it out when you're not dead on your feet."
"Ugh," Regulus groaned, dropping his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, "I have to start refining these recipes for the menu or I'll never open."
James scratched his nails lightly across his scalp, "You're not going to finish it tonight though, and a few hours of rest will only make you feel and work better. You're going to finish this menu, open your bakery, and blow the competition out of the water."
"I don't need rest, I need to perfect this recipe," He responded petulant and tired, banging his forehead against James' shoulder to wake himself up more. He'd felt fine before James brought it up and slipped his deft fingers into his hair, the motion always made every tensed muscle relax and melt.
James caught his head in his hands, squishing Regulus' cheeks and giving his head a little shake, "Not tonight you're not. Come on lovely, I'll help you clean up."
Regulus slept horribly and woke feeling as if his bones were in the wrong place, achy and sharp, discomfort in every move. He woke up sweating, eyes bleary and mind fuzzy, disoriented. He had loads to do, as much as he wanted to have a lie-in, he had a very strict schedule for himself and wanted to open the patisserie in the next ten months, despite only having two items on the menu finalized. Everything else had come so easily, he'd pictured exactly what his bakery would look like his entire life, he knew how he wanted it to feel when customers walked in, what the layout and decor would look like, but that dastardly menu kept him stuck. Regulus was constantly torn between wanting to make every abusive, narcissistic chef he worked under in culinary school eat their words with his ambitious flavor combinations and complex desserts, while also revamping classics that would feel familiar and new at the same time. He warred with his perfectionism constantly, a relentless driving force that never slowed or eased, pushing him forward until he reached his goal or his breaking point.
Regulus wiped the sweat off his face with a kitchen towel before kneading the dough again, his arm muscles screaming in pain and his fingers sore, flour caking every surface in his vicinity, piles of raspberry and chocolate dipped eclairs laid out on their kitchen table. He was wearing a thick jumper under his apron, hoping to stave off the chill he woke up with and only managing to make him shudder more as layers of sweat misted his face and neck. His body was so sore and tired, and he found himself standing in the middle of the kitchen often, trying to recall his next steps from his slow-working mind. He'd been testing out various flavor profiles on the eclairs, from classic flavors to more elevated ones, chocolate, raspberry, creme brulee, and lavender. Regulus sighed, setting aside the dough in a bowl to rise before moving on his fillings and coatings, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He squeezed his piping bag with shaking hands, unused to the lack of steadiness in his hands, struggling to hold the delicate pastry still as he filled it.
He let out a frustrated breath when he ripped the seam of the pastry, overfilling it and creating a gaping hole in one end. He picked up another, only to do the same thing, putting too much pressure on the icing bag and ruining the outer shell of the thin pastry. Regulus, tired and aching, the counter in his head ticking down the weeks and months, reminding him that he didn't have time to mess up, to be an average baker, to waste more time on this damned menu. He slammed the ruined pastry down on the tray, intending to pick up another, but accidentally hitting the corner with his hand, sending dozens of the eclairs he'd just made flying everywhere. Regulus cursed loudly, throwing his pastry bag in an empty bowl and sinking to the floor, kicking empty pastry shells out of his way. He closed his eyes, trying to take a deep breath, he just needed a break from the relentless thoughts.
When he was a kid and Grimmauld was filled with shouting and chaos, breaking glass behind closed doors and loud smacks met with quiet cries, Regulus would escape to the kitchen. Mr. Kreacher, his friend, and their family cook would pull a chair up the counter for Regulus to stand on and let him help with dessert. The warmth from the oven would wrap around them like a thick blanket, the smell of chocolate and melted butter on biscuits would make him feel safer, and the loud voices were far away from the belly of the house. He spent countless hours learning to knead dough and roll croissants, tempering chocolate and browning butter under Mr. Kreacher's careful instruction. The kitchen was his safe place, his corner of peace that he made for himself in the warzone that was Grimmauld. Mr. Kreacher was so proud of him when he graduated from Le Cordon Bleu, his parents hadn't bothered to come, disappointed as they were that their son didn't join the family business, but his old friend was beaming with pride, sat with Sirius, James, and Remus in the crowd, shouting their heads off when his name was called. Some of the recipes on Regulus' menus were ones he learned in the kitchen at Grimmauld, dedicated to his old friend who gave a little boy something to distract himself with, something to be proud of, and an escape. It was so important to Regulus to get it right, to prove his parents and teachers wrong, and to make his friends and himself proud.
James walked into a quiet flat, no creaking of the oven door opening and closing, or the whir of a mixer going. It was unusual considering Regulus' keys were in the frog dish by the door, and lately, it'd been near impossible to drag his boyfriend out of the kitchen at all unless he was doing some shopping for ingredients.
"Reg?" He called, shucking off his shoes and coat, and heading toward the kitchen when he didn't hear a response. He rounded the corner as he was about to call out again, but the words died in his throat when he saw Regulus curled up on the floor, pastries littering the tile, his head resting against the cabinets, eyes closed and chest rising and falling with thick breaths. James walked over quickly, crouching in front of him, pastries crunching under his feet and worry gnawing at him as he reached out to rub Regulus' knee, "Reg? Hey, wake up, darling."
"Mm," Regulus' face scrunched up adorably before he blinked awake, glassy eyes landing on James and wandering around the hectic kitchen, "Am I on the floor?"
"You are," James said slowly, taking in the spots of color on his flushed cheeks, and the clammy sheen of his skin.
"Why?" Regulus croaked, disoriented with the fog of sleep.
"I was hoping you'd know the answer to that, lovely," James moved his hand to feel around Regulus' head, "Did you hit your head or something? Are you hurt?"
Regulus shook his head, "No, I think I.." he trailed off, trying to remember, "I think I meant to close my eyes for a minute and just drifted off."
James frowned as Regulus shivered, despite the thick jumper and fuzzy socks he wore. He rubbed his hand up and down Regulus' arm to try to warm him, "You don't look well, lovely."
"I don't feel it, honestly," He answered hoarsely, swallowing thickly around the dry burn of his throat.
James tsked, reaching out to feel Regulus' forehead, "You've a temperature. What made you think you ought to work like this? You should be in bed."
"Dunno, I didn't feel this bad before," Regulus lied, closing his eyes again as James brushed his sweat-damp hair off his face with cool fingers that broke through the heat in his body.
"Alright love," James sighed unbelievingly, but deciding not to push the point, "Let's get you off the floor and into the bath, you're burning yourself alive in these clothes." He pulled Regulus up by his arms, pressing a kiss to his hot forehead as Regulus leaned heavily against him, "Have you eaten?"
Regulus visibly hesitated, which was all the answer James needed, "I got caught up.."
James pressed his lips together, pulling away to look at him, "You've got to stop this, Reg," Regulus looked away from him stubbornly, and James, frustrated and worried, grabbed his chin to make Regulus look at him, "I'm cutting you off. You don't eat, you hardly sleep, and you're so worked up about this menu stuff that you hardly leave the kitchen anymore. I live with you and I hardly get to see you, Sirius hasn't heard from you in days, and Remus says you blew off your brunch date."
"I'm just really focused right now, once I get this menu done, I can take all the breaks you want. But I don't have time to stop, not until everything is perfect." Regulus promised, taking a deep breath to try to quell the anxiety rising within him at the thought of stopping, of slowing down enough for all his thoughts to catch up, for all his fear to take him down.
James put his hands on his shoulders, "Regulus, I walked into the kitchen to find you sleeping on the floor with a fever as hot as the sun, and you're telling me you still can't take a break?" Regulus opened his mouth to respond, but James squeezed his shoulders, interrupting firmly, "No. I'm not giving you a choice, I'm sorry love, but I've let you go on like this long enough, and we're worried about you."
Regulus chewed on his lip anxiously, squirming under his boyfriend's scrutinizing stare. He fought back tears, not really knowing why, he hated being seen so clearly, feeling like everyone could see his faults and were talking about it. He'd forgotten about the brunch date with Remus and hadn't even texted him to say he wasn't going, Regulus just didn't show up, couldn't even recall what day they were supposed to meet. He couldn't remember the last time he spent time with James, or responded to his brother's texts, and he realized belatedly how awful he'd been to his friends, how frustrated they must be with his preoccupation.
"Come on, let's get you in the bath," James murmured, taking his hand to pull him toward the bathroom. He ran the water in the cracked porcelain tub, turning the knobs to warm it while Regulus rifled through the dresser for clothes. James searched the bathroom cabinet for fever reducers, reading the instructions to check the dosage.
Regulus reentered the bathroom with a pile of clothes, still chewing on his lip as he sat on the toilet seat. He reached out, catching the pocket of James' trousers, tugging him closer, and gazing up at him imploringly, "I'm sorry that I've been distant and obsessed, it's important to me, but not more important than you, or Sirius and Remus. I'll make it up to you, and everyone."
"It's more important than your health, though?"
Regulus shrugged, "I don't know, maybe. I just get so absorbed that I don't want to stop, and I don't care to either." He accepted the fever reducers James handed him, swallowing them dry, wincing at the desert stinging in his throat.
"How do you feel?"
"Like shite."
"So it's not working that well for you, is it?"
Regulus huffed, crossing his arms, "If you're going to be a prat about it, I'll take back my apology."
"That's not how apologies are supposed to work," James said, amusement in his voice, "I might argue that you're the arsehole here. I forgive you anyway, but only if you let me take care of you and promise to rest until you're better."
"I'm banned from the kitchen aren't I?" Regulus sighed, rubbing his eyebrow to try to relieve the pressure in his forehead.
"All bakery duties, but especially the kitchen."
Regulus' mouth popped open, "But I-"
"Nope!" James shook his head vigorously.
"What about-"
"Absolutely not."
"James!"
James bent down with a wolfish smile, pecking his mouth with kisses, "Get in the tub, lovely."
Regulus hummed against his lips before pushing his boyfriend back so he could undress, resigned to his fate for now, goosebumps sprouting all over his skin when he pulled his thick sweater off. He shivered aggressively, climbing into the full tub of warm water, not nearly hot enough to chase away the chill. "Bloody hell, I'm going to freeze my knob off in here."
James knelt by the tub, pouring some peppermint soap into the water, "Sorry love, we've got to get your temperature down. Let me make you something to eat, it'll help the fever reducers work better."
Regulus grabbed his wrist before he could walk away, "Join me, please?"
"You need to eat something, you'll feel better."
"I know, but come here first?" Regulus tugged on his wrist, water sloshing around him. James acquiesced, shucking off his clothes while Regulus watched shamelessly. James winked when he caught his eye, shimmying in an embarrassing way that made Regulus snort indecently, which quickly devolved into a coughing fit that made his throat burn. "You're such a menace, look what you did," He croaked once his coughs died down again.
"You're right, I should've been more careful knowing how alluring my bare arse can be, practically hypnotic, stole your breath didn't I?" James teased, nudging him forward in the tub, "Scoot up, lovely."
Regulus rolled his eyes and pressed his chest to his knees, warm water sloshing over the sides of the tub when James stepped in, easing himself behind his boyfriend, long legs bracketing his body. Regulus unfurled slowly, sinking into the warmth of his body, James' arms coming around his waist to reel him in closer. Regulus let his head fall against his shoulder, his tense muscles untying themselves one by one as his breaths synced up with James'. Wrapped in his body like a weighted blanket, everything Regulus was worried about began to slip away, the world narrowing down to their heartbeats and breaths, the lapping of water, and the uncapping of shower bottles. His eyes slipped shut of their own accord, drifting into a half-sleep while James gently rubbed soap over his chest, arms, and legs, humming under his breath as he did. His throat tickled and his head felt stuffed with cotton, but in the cradle of his boyfriend's arms, he felt worlds better and realized belatedly how much he'd missed James. His easy presence, goofy smiles, and smudged glasses, his citrus and summer scent.
Time had slowed, becoming thick and syrupy around him when James dropped a kiss on his shoulder, forming a trail of kisses up his neck before whispering in his ear, "You awake?"
Regulus hummed in response, cracking his eyes open and realizing the water was colder than before, the soap bubbles evaporating. He sat up a little more, groaning when his head pulsed in pain, lack of food and water making itself known. "Ugh."
James rubbed his back for a moment, retracting his legs and stepping out of the tub, grabbing a fluffy towel to wrap around his waist and offering his hand to help Regulus out, wrapping another towel around his shoulders as he shivered. James pressed his lips to his boyfriend's forehead, "You don't feel as hot as before. Feel better at all?"
"A little, kind of lightheaded," Regulus mumbled, letting James dry him off and dress him, thinking dreamily about his bed. A soft jumper was tugged over his head, and he stepped into flannel pajama pants, not as warm as he wanted, but feeling worlds better now that he wasn't sweating.
"Probably because you haven't eaten," James said pointedly, toweling off his hair, "Which we're still not done talking about, by the way, but we'll revisit that when you're well. Go lie down love, I'll whip up something easy."
Regulus nodded tiredly, standing on his tippy toes to kiss the corner of his mouth in thanks before shuffling into their bedroom and crawling under the covers, pulling them around him as tight as possible, listening to James rummage around in the kitchen. There was still a large part of him that wanted to work, that feared he'd fall behind if he rested too long, a large part of his brain still turning, thinking about what was next on his never-ending to-do list. But an overwhelming part of him was deeply exhausted and relaxed for the first time in a long time, his body was forcing him to rest, sleep enveloping him quickly. James woke him up with fingers running through his hair, still a little damp from the bath, curling around his temples.
"Sit up darling, I got some tea and soup for you."
Regulus rubbed his eyes, sitting up against the headboard and accepting the bowl of soup James put in his hands. James joined him on the other side of the bed, a warm hand slipping under his jumper and pressing against his low back as he ate, a gentle pressure, fingers stroking the skin there. When he couldn't stomach anymore, he set aside the bowl, curling up on James' side, sighing contentedly. He slept and he dreamed, warm from the inside out, dreaming of gentle touches and freshly baked bread, flour-caked aprons, and wide grins.