"Absolutely not, tell Albus I'll do the job alone," Regulus spoke into the phone pinched between his shoulder and cheek, disassembling his sniper and fitting them into his bag. "He'll only be a distraction and I refuse to put up with it all night."
"No can do, intel suggests the case will be highly guarded, and if you can't get it through stealth, you'll have to fight through a bunch of guards to get out alive. James will be thrilled to hear you find him distracting though," Sirius added in a teasing tone, the pattering sound of typing in the background of the call.
"Have you met Potter? He's hardly the best choice for stealth missions." Regulus responded, choosing to ignore that last comment. Sirius was always teasing him about James, always trying to read between the lines when James is mentioned, relentless about it. Regulus had a teeny tiny crush on James when they were kids, and somehow that warranted a lifetime of teasing, despite being adults now.
"He's been to the museum's private rooms before, his parents are investors so he's got insider knowledge. I also may have suggested to Albus that you'd work well together because nothing interesting has happened here in ages and I know this ought to be a riot."
Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, "Pissing off someone that kills people and gets away with it for a living is an idiotic move, but by all means, keep giving me reasons, Sirius." It was ridiculous, Regulus was a grown man, not a hopeless lovestruck teenager. James Potter is nothing special, just his brother's best friend, just a man.
"James will meet you with the files in Hyde Park, don't kiss him! Oops, I meant kill him!" Sirius cackled, ending the call before Regulus could respond.
Regulus worked as an agent for The Phoenix, a high-ranking spy for years, specializing in covert assassinations and stealth missions, stealing weapons and various merchandise, or precious intel that aids in protecting the safety of Britain. Sirius was his handler, assigning missions that fit Regulus' strengths best and providing the ins and outs of the job from behind his computer, hacking, and tracking intel for him. It was rare that Regulus wouldn't be working alone, as a lot of what he does has him going undercover for anywhere from a day to a week, biding his time until he could carry out his mission cleanly before disappearing. He liked working alone, he didn't have to defer to another agent, deal with incompetence, or watch anyone's back but his own.
James was a field agent who mostly worked security jobs because of his stature, broad and tall, not built for stealth but surprisingly quick on his feet and strong as all hell. Not that Regulus had noticed how strong he was, he definitely hadn't watched James' arms tense and strain underneath his sleeves when he trained in their practice room. It wasn't Regulus' fault that the man was objectively gorgeous, he's not stupid, Regulus has eyes.
James met him in the park overlooking the water at ten that night, the streetlight offering a flicker of dying yellow light over where Regulus sat on the bench, gazing at the reflection of city lights on the water and pretending he wasn't watching James' slow approach in his peripheral. He looked unfairly good, but that was typical of him, Regulus had gotten used to that fact over the years; from the first time he realized his brother's best friend was incredibly hot at the hormonal age of thirteen, hardly able to stutter out a sentence around him to furiously ignoring him every time he came around at twenty-six and insulting his entire existence when he wouldn't leave Regulus alone. James was dressed in his usual work attire, a button-up, and some black trousers, but he'd foregone his jacket and tie, the sleeves of his navy dress shirt rolled up to show off the muscled tan brown of his forearms.
"Hey!" James waved the file in hand as he walked up to the bench, an easy smile on his face, "Nice night for a clandestine meeting in the park, eh?"
"How you managed to convince Albus to let you in The Phoenix is beyond me," Regulus answered dryly, James sliding onto the bench next to him easily. "Who announces that they're having a clandestine meeting? You're the worst spy ever."
"Oh, well, let's just say I have quite a few exceptional talents that he felt could be of use," He said with a wink, bumping their shoulders together. "And who says a clandestine meeting means spy work? We could be having an affair, running from our spouses in the night to meet up."
"Must you sit so close to me?"
James shrugged and threw a casual arm around the back of the bench, fingers just barely brushing the slope of Regulus' shoulder. "It's quite nippy out, I was just watching out for you, body heat and all that."
Regulus rolled his eyes and snatched the file out of his hand, "It's April, you great pillock, and we have a job to do."
"Take all the fun out of it, why don't you?"
Inside the file were several photos and a blueprint of the layout of the Clearwater Museum's private rooms, used for the most secretive auctions, the only ones in attendance of these were by invite only, forced to sign NDAs, and usually had billions to spend. Every entrance and exit would be covered by guards and cameras, guests would be patted down upon entering, and security would lock their belongings away to ensure nothing was snuck in. The file gave no information on what they'd be stealing, only a detailed description of the case containing the object, and a profile with a clipping of a burly Russian man who was believed to be handling it. The Russian man was clearly mafia, he had a hard look about him, a hard-set jaw, a thick scar down the side of his neck, and a mottled left ear as if part of it had been sliced off, scar tissue lumpy and rippling.
"You ever see this man at the auction before?" Regulus asked, pointing to the photo.
"Nah, think I'd know if I had, scary looking bloke like that," James was so close Regulus could smell the sweet citrus of him, like summertime, lemonade, and morning dew. Their heads were bent together over the file, a phone flashlight between them to illuminate the pages. "What do you figure is in the case?"
"Has to be some kind of weapon, something dangerous enough in the wrong hands to worry Albus and warrant risking our lives against Russian mafia. Why they're selling it, I'm not sure."
From this angle, Regulus could see the thin gold chain resting against his collarbone under his shirt, he had the absurd thought that he'd like to see more, see the gold of the necklace glint off of his smooth dark skin, and the antler tattoo Regulus knew he had on his shoulder, though he'd never seen it. He wondered if James had any other tattoos he didn't know about, wondered what it would feel like to trace the black lines with his fingertips, feel the warmth of James' skin under his hands.
"Could be trading hands, and the auction is just a cover to get the case to one person in attendance. I- Alright?"
Regulus shook himself out of his reverie, quickly dropping his gaze to the papers again before glancing back at James, cheeks burning furiously. "What? I'm listening."
James licked his lips, losing the battle as he fought the grin taking over his face, "Distracted tonight, are we?"
This is precisely why Regulus avoids James like the plague at work, because James makes him very, very stupid, and Regulus isn't stupid. Having James' attention on him always felt like a spotlight, leaving him utterly exposed, bathed in blinding light, defenseless. Having James this close to him was both Regulus' worst nightmare and the best kind of dream, it burned him and lit him up inside all at once, horrible and freeing, terrifying and utterly thrilling.
Regulus stood up to take his leave, hardly able to look him in the eye, squirming under his attention, desperate to hide and somehow longing to see what James would do if he stayed. "Just meet me on the corner of Columbia, we'll scope the place out a few days before security gets there. I'll call you with the time."
"You'd better. I'll be waiting," James replied.
It didn't take long for the job to go to shit. They planned to steal the case two nights ahead of the auction, as there would be far too much security to attempt it the night of. The night of the auction there would be any number of eyes on it constantly, watching its every move, too many witnesses and too high stakes. Regulus wasn't an idiot to think the case wouldn't be well guarded before too, but less security on the building as a whole and the lack of civilians around would give them much better odds.
There were cameras at each exit, as well as two interior cameras that were placed on opposite sides of the inner room, according to the file, a room that could only be entered through a keycard. Sirius' job was to hack into the museum's cameras and shut them down for as long as possible to avoid detection, he estimated they'd have around twenty minutes if they were lucky, maybe more if the night shift was too lazy to look close enough to find the footage looping the same boring feed.
Regulus had planned to take the guards down with poison, or as many of them as possible to even out their odds. It had worked well enough for the first two guards, James dosed the first and dragged him into an open room to be discovered later, while Regulus took down the other, kicking the knees out from behind the man and pressing the poisoned handkerchief to his mouth before he could make a noise. Both men were out before they hit the ground.
They advanced through the halls soundlessly, or Regulus' steps were silent, James seemed unable to do the same, footsteps heavy and echoing down the empty hall. The guards were spread out, stationed at intervals closer to the room where the case was, leaving the rest of the building dark and still.
"Must you romp around like a clumsy deer?" Regulus hissed venomously, glaring at James as if he'd rather stab him with one of his daggers than continue the mission with him.
"I have flat feet! It's not my fault," James shot back lowly but made more of an effort to quiet the sound, slowing down his movements to do so.
"Oh, by all means, take your time, it's not as if we'll be tortured and killed if we're caught. I'm sure the Russians would love a tea party instead."
James rolled his eyes in answer and peered around the corner, they only needed to cross the hall and go through the next set of doors to reach the final guards protecting the case. One stationed outside of the locked room, and two inside it. He checked his watch, they'd only have another ten minutes of the cameras being down before they needed to get out of there. So far, they were lucky, the poison meant they'd made hardly any noise, able to avoid using their guns and no one else in the building seemed to suspect there were intruders. James might even be having fun, which was an odd thing to think considering there was a locked room containing a giant Russian mafia boss waiting for them, but he couldn't help but enjoy himself a little.
Despite Regulus' disdain for him, James was quite infatuated with him, much to Sirius' eternal amusement. James can't help but look at Regulus and want to crack him open, he longs to melt the coldness in his demeanor and wishes daily that he could see what goes on inside his brilliant mind. Maybe it's something about how impervious Regulus seems to his charm, meeting his every flirty remark with burning insults, unphased by James entirely, where most people James can win over instantly, it's been years and Regulus has not broken.
Except, there are these moments, less than that, a sliver of a second here and there where James thinks, there he is, that's the real Regulus. A slight uptick in the corner of his mouth on the rare occasion he finds something James said funny, but is too stubborn to admit it, the softening of his eyes, just by a degree when he looks at James sometimes, when he thinks James isn't watching. But he is, James is always watching, he can't help it. He is constantly desperate for more.
As they crept through the next set of double doors, so close to their goal, they found the next guard not relaxed as the others had, whistling under his breath or having a casual conversation with his partner, but ready for them the second they were exposed in the entrance. There was hardly a breath between the doors opening and the guard firing his gun, rapid Russian coming through the walkie talkie strapped on his shoulder. James curled an arm around Regulus' waist, wrenching him back from the opening and slamming the door closed in front of them, using it for cover as more shots rang out, embedding bullets into the metal door.
James glanced around, hand still resting on Regulus' waist as he searched the way they'd come to see if the previous guards they'd poisoned had somehow gotten up and gone looking for them. Regulus breathed heavily against him, pinned between James' body and the door, cursing under his breath before stealing the gun from the strap on James' waist and whirling around, firing four shots at the guard in rapid succession before ducking behind the door again.
"So much for stealth, huh? At least you can't blame my deerlike romping," James teased even as he checked their surroundings, noticing that the camera in the corner was still blinking red, still shut down. Small mercies. "He already knew we were here, so the others probably do now too."
"Can't rule it out yet," Regulus grits out, the words strained, "Seems like he was expecting us, shot first even though we could've been guards."
With another suppressed groan, he peered over the edge of the door as the returning shots slowed, firing off a few of his own, one catching the guard in the shoulder and another in his stomach. The guard shouted something in Russian over the walkie talkie, likely trying to call for backup, unaware that his friends were unconscious in closets around the building. Regulus knew that the two guards stationed inside wouldn't leave until the threat was handled. Unless Regulus and James got into that room, they'd never get near that case, and now the Russian mafia knew they were there and would be waiting for them to try.
"Regulus Black, did you just agree with me?" James said, half amused and half stunned.
He finally looked back at Regulus, sure they were safe for the moment, and grinning smugly down at him. When Regulus didn't respond, or even shoot him a cutting glare, merely dropping his head back against the door and closing his eyes, James' smile flickered out. He noticed that Regulus' brow was knit together in pain, a muscle jumping in his jaw from clenching his teeth, and sweat gleaming on his forehead and the pale hollow of his throat.
James knew that a shot rang out as soon as they'd opened the doors, knew Regulus was slightly ahead of him, but he never saw where that first bullet went, and suddenly understood why Regulus sounded so strained when he'd spoken, why he groaned when he moved. James was so busy watching their backs that he hadn't realized that he had been shot. James' hands traveled from his face to his neck, down his shoulders, searching and hoping he was wrong, knowing with horrible certainty he wasn't.
"Reg? Where are you hurt? Wher-"
His gaze landed on a spreading puddle of crimson underneath Regulus’ left leg, a bullet had torn through the meat of his thigh, leaving behind a gaping hole of flesh and torn tendons. James cursed, his head moving on a swivel, mind racing as he tried to work out what to do next. They were exposed here, waiting for the Russians to call for backup, or for the boss to come out and face them himself. They needed to move, to get somewhere safe, but if they left the mission now, that case might as well be lost to them. If they left, the Russians would increase their security by tenfold and make it impossible for a second retrieval mission. At the same time, none of that mattered too much when his best friend's brother and James'- something was bleeding from a gunshot wound.
Regulus grabbed his arm, seeming to read his mind, "Don't even think about it, Potter. We're finishing this, we have to." His voice was hard and resolute, despite the pain bleeding through his tightly controlled features. James held his gaze for a moment before coming to a decision.
"I'm finishing this, you are done," James corrected, unbuckling his belt and sliding it under Regulus' thigh, slicking his fingers in thick blood. "You're going to bleed out if you keep fighting at this rate, and I'd rather not have to explain to Sirius how I let his little brother complete a mission while dying from a bullet hole in his leg," He laced one end of the belt through the buckle, pulling to tighten it just above the wound, squeezing as much as he could before securing it, and mirroring Regulus' wince sympathetically. "Sorry love, has to be tight to slow the bleeding."
"I know, but I still think you're a dick for it," Regulus seethed, letting out a harsh exhale and slowly releasing James' arm from where he had it in a death grip. "How do you intend on finishing this mission alone? You've still got to get into that room, and I'm a better shot than you by far."
It was true, Regulus had deadly precision, with most weapons really, but mostly guns and knives, where James did better in hand to hand combat. But James was also a marauder, a member of the notorious group at boarding school, specializing in pulling pranks and getting out of bad situations unscathed.
"There are other ways, I did tell you I had some exceptional skills, regardless of what you think of me." James said with a sly smirk.
In the end, Regulus was stuck in one of the side rooms while James went in to face the boss and retrieve the case. He wasn't the type to back down from a mission, injured or not, but he couldn't argue that if he couldn't move fast enough, he'd only get himself killed and serve as a distraction for James. Oh, how the tables turn.
It didn't mean he liked it or wasn't tempted to follow him right into that room, despite the fact Regulus was not sure he could walk, let alone run right now. He'd completed several missions with various worrying injuries in the past, much to Sirius' outrage, but it was always his life at risk, never someone else who could die because of his stubbornness.
So, Regulus sat on the floor, surrounded by wooden crates filled with packing material, blood forming a puddle underneath him, fighting with himself and worrying for James, the wound in his leg throbbing with such intensity it felt like he'd explode and be torn apart with the force of it. His heart rate thundered through his entire body, a sound like waves crashing in his ears, drowning Regulus in a torrent of anxiety and pain as he listened to James breach the room. A loud bang that didn't sound like any gun he'd heard before echoed through the floor, followed by frantic shouts in Russian. He couldn't hear any distinct words, only shouts of outrage or maybe pain, and the ricocheting of gunshots, glass shattering, and bodily thuds. Regulus flipped his dagger in hand anxiously, the only weapon he had left to defend himself as he strained to hear what was going on down the hall.
He didn't realize he'd closed his eyes until a hand landed on his cheek, the blood loss making him hazy, and forced back to the present danger by the touch, Regulus' hand shot forward to press his dagger against his attacker's neck. Except, he wasn't being attacked at all. He opened his eyes to see James knelt in front of him, eyes blown wide in surprise, one hand wrapped around Regulus' wrist, preventing him from drawing blood.
James seemed a little worse off than before, a small trickle of blood trailed down his chin from a split in his lip, and one on the bridge of his nose where his glasses rested, as well as bruising around one of his eyes. Regulus scrutinized the rest of his features, searching for any life-threatening injuries and slumping when he found none, gaze finally landed on the case next to them, unassuming, except for the complicated locking mechanisms on the side, a simple black and silver exterior no bigger than a satchel.
"Uh, not that I don't find this incredibly hot, but I'd like to get out of here, so do you reckon you can," James gestured to where Regulus still had his dagger poised against his neck, swallowing against it, but clearly unafraid.
Regulus startled into action, ripping his hand away abruptly, "God, sorry, I kind of zoned out," He shook his foggy head to clear it, before James' words registered fully in his brain, "Wait, did you just say-"
"Right! We need to leave before the cameras switch on or someone realizes all the guards are gone." James said hurriedly, he slipped his hands under Regulus' arms, dragging him to his feet and holding him steady as Regulus' head swam with the change, "Alright?"
Regulus nodded, leaning into James as he wrapped an arm around his waist and picked up the case with the other hand. "Are they dead? What- How'd you get out?"
"They're incompacitated. I'll tell you the details later, but it had something to do with those flash bombs Sirius and I used to use for pranks," James said conspiratorially, steering them out the door, Regulus trading his dagger for a gun since he was the only one with a free hand.
Luckily nobody popped out of the shadows, and the pair hobbled and limped to their car without problems, Regulus leaving one bloody footprint behind every time he stepped, blood streaming down his pant leg and filling his boot. James helped Regulus into the passenger seat, buckling his belt for him and murmuring for him to keep pressure on his leg before closing the door and getting into the driver's side.
"We've got to meet Sirius at the drop-off point," Regulus spoke up through the fog, nauseous shivering as cold sweat coated him, hands drenched in crimson as he tried to staunch the wound. “You're going the wrong way."
"We're going to my place to get you patched up first, Sirius will understand." James stated calmly, glancing over at Regulus every few seconds.
"Albus won't."
"I couldn't give a rat's arse about Albus right now, love."
James lowered him down onto his sofa, crouching down to untie Regulus' boots for him and tugging them off carefully as to not jostle his leg. Regulus sunk into the sofa, slowly taking in his surroundings, a worn leather armchair in the corner, a glass coffee table with board games shoved under the bottom, an abandoned mug of tea on the corner table by his head. Love, Regulus thought, his mind stuck repeating that one word, the way it sounded coming out of James' mouth, the curve of his lips as the endearment spilled out easily, Love; what a dangerous concept, what an alluring one.
"Hey," James said, drawing his attention back and pulling things out of his medkit, "Can you take your pants off? I need to see if there's an exit wound."
Regulus' cheeks heated, somewhere between mortified and amused at how strange the night was turning out, "Potter, was all this some ploy to get me out of my pants? Whatever will Sirius say when he hears?"
James snorted, "He'd probably say about time you twit or something along those lines. And don’t be ridiculous, I’m nothing if not a gentleman, I’d buy you dinner first."
Regulus' face was so hot now he was sure he resembled a tomato, and he quickly ducked his head to hide it, fumbling with his pants to get them off and trying not to think about James, or being alone in his apartment, or being pantless on his sofa, or his stupid brother meddling in his love life.
James at least didn't watch him, busying himself setting up gauze and alcohol, disinfectant pads, and scissors. Regulus undid the loop of the belt constricting his thigh and winced as a gush of blood bubbled up immediately. He managed to tug his pants down partially, gritting his teeth against the pain as he tried to wiggle out of them. The fabric caught around the pulsating wound, raw flesh grated against his rough slacks, making his breath catch in his throat.
"Hey, not if it hurts," James said, jumping in to stop his hands from continuing to tug, squeezing them in his own as Regulus exhaled shakily. "I'll cut them the rest of the way, yeah?"
Regulus nodded, relieved, and collapsed against the sofa, sweat running down his back from the exertion. James' nimble fingers picked at the hole in his pants, lifting the fabric slightly without putting any pressure on the wound, and ran the cool scissors underneath it, cutting a long slice of fabric open to reveal the gruesome image of his bloodied leg. His thigh was painted with red that trickled down his shin, the bullet hole a catastrophe, mottled raw flesh was blown open, but as James lifted his leg, it was clear there was no exit wound. The bullet was still in his leg.
James sighed, "Sorry love, we're going to have to get this bullet out before it gets infected. This won't be pleasant."
"Wonderful. Do you have any alcohol? If you're going to rummage around in my leg I'd prefer to be smashed while you do it."
"I can't give you too much, alcohol thins the blood, but you can take a few swallows."
James left briefly, returning with a bowl of water and a flannel, a bottle of whiskey, and a wooden spoon. He set the items on the table next to the kit, blowing out slowly and running a hand through his hair, the only signs he's given that the stress is wearing on him.
James had been playing strong for Regulus, not wanting him to worry or feel worse than he already did, but he wasn't a medic, and he didn't want to be responsible for killing the boy he was madly in love with. He's almost convinced Regulus feels something for him too, because every time James calls him love, a lovely blush spreads across pale cheeks and reddens the tips of his ears, and suddenly Regulus can't even look him in the eye, so quietly pleased.
Despite his stress, James shot him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, handing Regulus the bottle, "Here, just one or two swallows-"
Regulus tipped the bottle back, taking a deep pull with a slight wince when he pulled back. "God, that tastes horrible."
“I think whiskey’s supposed to,” James took the bottle from him gingerly, placing it out of reach and handing him the wooden spoon. "You'll want to bite down on this, I'd really rather not get noise complaints from my neighbors thinking I've murdered you."
Regulus put the spoon between his teeth, all his muscles tensed up in anticipation for the unending pain to get even worse. His already fuzzy mind began to detach itself further as the whiskey kicked in, leaving him in a limbo of both numbness and pulsating pain. His limbs were tingly, buzzing, and somehow other from his body, and he was drenched in a cold sweat that harshly combated the flames licking up and down his leg. His body arched up off the couch on its own volition as James flushed out the wound with alcohol, screams strangled around the wooden spoon clenched between his teeth so hard Regulus thought it might splinter. James worked as quickly as he could, murmuring platitudes and apologies, as he disinfected the wound and pressed a gauze pad to it to absorb some of the blood.
"Relax, love," James murmured, lifting one hand to rub circles Regulus' chest, looking extremely apologetic, the other hand still clamped over the wound. "Breathe through your nose, in and out. In and out, it's alright."
He did his best, but the spoon felt suffocating and he kept forgetting how to inhale properly, pain sparking and cresting several times over as James worked, choking the air from his lungs. James kept instructing him to breathe, but Regulus was losing focus, all he could see was red, on the bare skin of his leg, on James' sofa, on his hands, and the gauze pads that used to be white. When James picked up the tweezers to dig out the bullet, Regulus saw black spots sporadically dancing in his vision before combining into darkness that pulled him under quickly.
"-ulus? Reg?"
A cool damp broke through the relentless heat of his body, of the pain. The pain had dulled a bit, still a throbbing, living thing, but less all-consuming than it was before. Regulus swam to consciousness, following that cold relief and the gentle voice that called out to him, encouraging him to swim. Regulus blinked bleary eyes open, at first only seeing blurs of color before his eyes began to focus. A plush sofa beneath him, his fingers curling around a knit blanket, a discarded medkit haphazardly scattered with bloodied gauze pads and tape, a bloody bullet, and finally, the man before him, tan brown skin and a kind, handsome face with gold-framed glasses.
"Hey, I lost you for a minute there," James murmured, holding a flannel to Regulus' face and patting the sweat away, from his forehead, his cheeks, his neck. "You lost a lot of blood. How do you feel?"
"Like I got shot and some asshole dug a bullet out of my leg," Regulus rasped, still a little out of it, mouth feeling full of cotton, "It's out?"
James snorted, "Yeah, that’s fair. Got it out and stitched you up best I could. A bit messy, but it’ll do the trick. Here," He grabbed a glass of water and helped him sit up properly to drink it, brushing sweat-damp curls from Regulus' temple as he spoke, "I'm no doctor but I think you might be out of the woods."
"The case?" Regulus asked, letting James tug the glass out of his hands and sagging against his shoulder.
"Handled. Don't worry about it, love, just rest." James kissed his temple, despite the thundering in his chest, unsure of how Regulus would react.
Flirting, they do easily, but neither of them ever initiated much beyond that. But Regulus turned his head toward James, a sleepy calm hooding his eyes and a rare gentle smile in the corner of his mouth. There you are, James thought, and this time, Regulus did not hide it, he only nestled closer until his face was tucked under James' chin, closing his eyes and sighing contently. Sirius was so going to flip out over this.