The things I do for love
James was in deep trouble—whether it was because he was going to be the death of himself, or Sirius was going to kill him, either way, things were a mess.
He tried hard, really hard, not to let his thoughts drift toward Regulus. Regulus was beautiful, which would have been enough of a problem. But he was also Sirius’s younger brother, which should have been the ultimate deterrent. Should have been.
But how could James not be affected? Regulus had been dressing in ways that felt almost criminal—shorts that barely seemed legal, crop tops that showed off his toned stomach and waist god that waist, and sweatpants that, on more than one occasion, rode low enough to make James contemplate the strength of his own moral fiber. Keeping his focus when Regulus was around was becoming a Herculean task.
Today started like any other. James woke up before dawn for his morning run, a ritual that helped clear his head and, more importantly, put some space between him and Regulus for an hour. Typically, he’d return, make breakfast for them both, and then Regulus would retreat to his favorite spot in the indoor library to read.
But this day was decidedly *not* typical.
When James got back from his run, still catching his breath, he was greeted by the sight of people trying to climb through his window. He blinked, sure the early hour had somehow warped his vision. But no, there was definitely a boy balancing precariously on another’s shoulders, trying to wiggle through the frame.
“What the fuck...” James muttered, too confused to even sound properly angry. The boy on top lost his balance and fell backward, landing with a thud on the ground. He jumped up quickly, brushing himself off and flashing James a sheepish grin.
“Uh, hi,” the boy said, far too casual for someone who had just fallen out of a window. “We didn’t expect anyone to be up this early.”
James just stared, trying to process this circus that was unfolding on his front lawn or was it even a lawn since it didnt have grass? Wait no he wqs getting sidetracked. “You think? What are you doing climbing through my window?”
The blonde boy who had just set down the now-recovered tumbler shrugged awkwardly. “Uh, we were just… you know… didn’t mean to cause a scene. I’m Evan, by the way, and these are—”
“—Barty, Dorcas, and I’m Pandora,” another girl chimed in from behind him, waving like this was the most normal introduction in the world. “We were just visiting Regulus.”
Regulus? James’s brain stuttered. “At this hour? Through the window?”
Evan chuckled, clearly not understanding the severity of the situation. “Yeah, we thought it’d be fun. You’ve got a nice place here, and it seemed like no one was home.”
James pressed his fingers to his temples, already feeling the headache brewing. “Right. Well, since you’re already here, you might as well come in. But please, use the door next time.”
He stepped aside, motioning for them to enter as if this whole encounter wasn’t completely unhinged.
As they shuffled past, James stayed outside for a second longer, listening as they greeted Regulus enthusiastically. The sound of Regulus’s laughter, light and genuine, filled the air. James couldn’t help but smile despite himself; it was nice to hear Regulus that happy. His friends clearly adored him, and judging by the way Regulus's eyes lit up, the feeling was mutual.
Quietly, James slipped into the house, unnoticed by the group now sprawled across the couch, chattering away like they did this every day. Regulus looked relaxed, lounging among them, his smile softer but just as warm. James busied himself with making breakfast, half-listening to their laughter and ridiculous conversation, feeling like an outsider to the cozy scene but not entirely minding.
He quickly made his toast, grabbed his things, and decided it was time to head over to Sirius and Remus’s place. After all, it was safer over there. Renovation dust was less dangerous than Regulus's friends climbing through windows and his own rapidly deteriorating willpower.
After a brief goodbye, he slipped out of the house.
The drive to Sirius and Remus’s place was uneventful, though James did manage to yell at one particularly aggressive pigeon on the way. He pulled up to their house, half-expecting to find Sirius lounging in a chair, yelling at the workers to "try harder." Instead, he was greeted by the sight of an actual construction zone that, miraculously, wasn’t on fire.
Sirius was outside, wearing a hard hat like he was born to manage renovations—though given his usual sense of responsibility, it looked more like a prop from a children's play. “James!” Sirius called, waving a hand. “Come in, mate! Check out this chaos.”
“Nice hat,” James said, trying not to laugh as he followed Sirius inside. “Really screams ‘serious builder.’”
“Thank you,” Sirius replied with a grin. “Remus says I look like Bob the Builder, whatever that means.”
Inside the house was a whirlwind of noise and sawdust. Remus, of course, was the calm in the storm, standing by a stack of blueprints and looking like he’d actually read them. He glanced up when he saw James, his face lighting up. “James! Good to see you,” he said, pulling James into a hug, which might have been a bit overzealous considering James could now taste drywall dust.
Remus gestured to the plans. “Come see what we’ve done! We’ve finally got the kitchen sorted—Sirius only threatened to fire one person.”
“Two,” Sirius corrected with a proud smile. “But to be fair, one of them used the phrase ‘minimalist chic.’”
James followed them into the kitchen, his eyes widening at the transformation. The last time he was here, the kitchen looked like it had lost a wrestling match with a wrecking ball. Now, it was sleek, modern, and… clean? It was borderline unrecognizable.
“Wow,” James said, his voice full of mock awe. “Look at you two, living the HGTV dream. Where’s the camera crew?”
Sirius flashed a grin. “They wanted to film us, but I told them I wasn’t ready for my close-up.”
James rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “This place looks amazing,” he admitted, running a hand along the countertop. “I mean, it’s nice that you’re finally living like adults.”
Remus chuckled. “Yeah, we’re thinking of making it official. You know, buying matching hand towels and everything.”
Sirius gestured dramatically to the living room, now decked out with new furniture and free of the debris that had previously made it resemble a hoarder’s paradise. “James, imagine this: a couch. A real couch, that doesn’t smell like old pizza. We’re practically royalty now.”
“I don’t know how I’ll ever sit on a normal couch again,” James said, trying to keep a straight face.
They made their way to the guest room, which was still in progress. Remus opened the door with a flourish, revealing a bright, airy space that was mostly ready, save for a few scattered tools and a slightly suspicious pile of plaster in the corner.
“Won’t be ready for a while,” Remus said, “but it’s for Regulus.”
Right, Regulus wasn’t going to stay with him forever. Soon, James's house would be void of the angel who’d somehow decided to grace him with his presence. The thought gave him a brief, inexplicable pang.
Sirius clapped him on the back. “Hm. Is he doing well? Regulus, I mean.”
James smiled, pushing the thought away. “Yeah, he’s doing great. His friends visited him today.”
Sirius beamed proudly, like James had just told him Regulus had won a Nobel Prize or something. "That's brilliant."
They spent the next couple of hours catching up, with James quietly thanking every higher power that Sirius was as oblivious as ever. When it was finally time for him to leave, James felt more at ease. The house looked great, and he’d managed to avoid making an idiot of himself—mostly. And the ticking clock on his time with Regulus? Well, he'd figure that out eventually.
When James returned home, the house felt unusually still. The quietness unsettled him, but he shrugged it off, hanging up his coat and thinking it might just be a peaceful afternoon.
That thought was quickly interrupted by the sound of laughter and chatter coming from the back of the house. His curiosity piqued, James wandered toward the noise, finding Regulus and his friends filing in through the back door, full of life and excitement.
“Hey, James!” Dorcas greeted with a smirk, her eyes dancing mischievously. “We’re about to start a movie. You coming, or are you too busy brooding?”
James chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sure, sounds good. I could use a distraction.” He followed them into the living room, settling on the couch.
The group was lively, chatting and jostling for space, while Regulus, ever the calm one, drifted over to the kitchen. When he returned, James's attention was drawn to the popsicle in Regulus’s hand. He watched as Regulus unwrapped it with slow, practiced fingers, exposing the bright, icy treat.
And then it began.
Regulus brought the popsicle to his lips, his eyes half-lidded as he licked it slowly, dragging his tongue over the icy surface in a way that felt far too deliberate. Each motion was languid, as if he was savoring every frozen drop, his lips closing around it just long enough to pull it into his mouth before letting it slip free with a subtle glisten.
James swallowed hard. He could feel his pulse quickening, his throat dry as he watched Regulus. There was nothing overtly seductive about what he was doing, and yet—James couldn’t tear his eyes away. His mind betrayed him, imagining the feel of those lips, soft and teasing, on his own. The way Regulus's tongue moved with such intent, such precision...
James barely registered the movie playing, let alone what anyone was saying. His eyes flickered to Regulus, and each lick of the popsicle made the heat in his body rise. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying and failing to focus on anything else.
“Everything alright, mate? You seem a bit... distracted,” Evan commented, looking at James with a raised eyebrow from across the room.
James blinked, struggling to pull himself from his reverie. “Uh, yeah. Just tired, I guess.” He forced a smile, trying to sound casual, but even to him, his voice sounded strained.
Regulus, who seemed fully aware of James’s predicament, glanced over with a smirk. “You’re missing the best part, Potter. This movie’s brilliant, and here you are staring off into space.”
Barty snickered, lounging lazily nearby. “Because you, Regulus Black, are such a connoisseur of movies.”
Regulus shoved him lightly, laughing. “Hey, it’s not my fault my mother kept me locked away from the world. Can’t blame me for catching up now.” His eyes flicked back to James, a playful glint in them. “Anyway, James, maybe if you weren’t so serious all the time, you’d enjoy it more. Relax. We won’t bite—unless you want us to.”
James’s face flushed, the teasing only adding fuel to the fire raging inside him. He tried to focus on the movie, but every time he stole a glance at Regulus, the sight of his tongue running over the now-dripping popsicle made it impossible to think about anything else.
Finally, unable to stand it any longer, James shot up from the couch, his voice too hurried. “I need to, uh, step outside for a minute. Just... need some air.”
He barely registered the glances that followed him as he left the room, his heart pounding in his chest. Once inside his office, James closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his hand running through his hair as he let out a long, frustrated sigh.
Regulus Black was going to be the death of him.
Later that night, around midnight, Regulus appeared suddenly, like a ghostly apparition slipping into the room. But, by Merlin, was he beautiful in the low light. The soft glow from the desk lamp caught the sharp angles of his face, his pale skin glowing like porcelain.
"Oh? To what do I owe the honor of the great Regulus Black?" James quipped, pulling off his glasses with a teasing grin. "Sorry, it's a bit of a mess," he added, gesturing loosely around his cluttered space.
Regulus rolled his eyes, unbothered. "It's fine. I just needed to ask you something anyway." He walked over with that effortless grace and perched himself on the edge of James’s desk, to the right of his chair, his presence demanding James's full attention.
Without missing a beat, James turned, adjusting his swivel chair to face him. They were close now, closer than they had been in a while, and the casual ease of the moment was making it hard to breathe. Regulus had come to ask a simple question, but James found himself captivated by the way he moved, by how his dark hair framed his face, by the way his lips curled when he spoke.
James was trying to listen, he really was. But then Regulus dropped his pen.
The sound of it hitting the floor was deafening in the silence. And then—Regulus kneeled.
Right there. Between James's legs.
James’s brain short-circuited as he watched Regulus lean down, searching for the pen under the desk. His dark hair fell in soft strands across his face, and when he found the pen, he looked up with those wide, doe-like eyes—eyes that were soft, innocent, and yet somehow filled with that quiet confidence that always drove James mad.
"Shit... shit... shit..." James’s mind raced. He clenched his fists on the arms of the chair, trying to hold himself together. It took everything he had not to reach out, tangle his fingers in Regulus's hair, and pull him up for a kiss—or worse, bend him over the desk and give in to every forbidden fantasy that had been haunting his dreams for months.
But he couldn't. He *wouldn't*. He wasn’t going to let temptation get the better of him. Not when it came to Regulus Black. Not when there was so much at risk—his friendship with Sirius, his reputation, everything.
And yet... as Regulus straightened, that smug little smirk playing on his lips as he handed James the pen, James knew he had already failed. Miserably. The hunger gnawing at him was undeniable now, the temptation too strong, too real. He wanted nothing more than to grab Regulus by the collar, crush their mouths together, and lose himself in the taste of him.
The raw, animalistic desire clawed at his insides, begging him to leave his mark on Regulus’s perfect, pale skin. To pull him close, kiss him senseless, and make him his. The smirk on Regulus’s lips only fed that hunger, made James's restraint falter. He wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, to claim him, to ravage him.
But he stayed still. Barely. His breath hitched as he watched Regulus, still fighting to keep control, even as every fiber of his being screamed at him to give in.
The air between James and Regulus thickened, charged with unspoken tension. Regulus, still holding that pen, studied James with an unreadable look, his smirk fading into something softer, more knowing. The silence was heavy, and James felt the weight of it pressing on his chest, making it harder to breathe.
Regulus didn’t move from where he was perched on the desk, but he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’re tense, James. What’s got you all wound up?”
James let out a strained laugh, trying to push through the heat crawling up his neck. “You know exactly what’s got me wound up, Reg.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Do I?” His eyes sparkled with amusement, as if daring James to say it out loud, to cross that invisible line that had been growing thinner and thinner between them. The deliberate ease in his posture, the subtle tilt of his head, the way his lips seemed to linger around every word—it was all part of his game. A game that James knew he was losing.
James clenched his fists again, trying to regain control, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the arms of his chair. “You’re playing with fire,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, though whether it was a warning to Regulus or to himself, he wasn’t sure.
Regulus’s smirk returned, though there was something softer in his gaze now, something almost tender beneath the teasing. “Maybe I like the heat,” he whispered, his words sending a jolt through James’s already frayed nerves.
James swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to Regulus’s lips, so close and yet still maddeningly out of reach. His resolve was hanging by a thread, and he knew if he didn’t do something soon—if Regulus kept looking at him like that—he’d lose control entirely.
But before James could say or do anything, Regulus stood, pushing himself off the desk and taking a step back, breaking the tension with a casual grace that only he could pull off. “Thanks for the pen,” he said with a wink, twirling it between his fingers before slipping it into his pocket.
James let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his body slumping slightly in the chair as Regulus walked away, his presence lingering in the air like a storm that had just passed.
“Goodnight, James,” Regulus called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall, leaving James alone in the dimly lit room, his pulse still racing.
James sat there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where Regulus had been, his mind a chaotic whirl of desire, frustration, and regret. He knew he was in deep—deeper than he’d ever intended to be. And as much as he tried to convince himself that he could walk away, that he could keep his distance, part of him knew the truth.
He was already lost to Regus black.