Nebraska
“What the fuck is N.. Ne.. Nebraska?” Sirius groans, looking down at his plane ticket, “isn’t that like.. all corn?”
“No,” Orion snaps, his voice cold and distant, “if you were to listen every once in a while-“
He stops when Walburga’s hand finds its way onto his arm. “What your father is trying to say is that your host family is from Nebraska — and no, Sirius, it’s not all corn — I’ve heard it can be quite pretty, actually.”
“Quite pretty? That’s a load of bullshit-“
Regulus rolls his eyes, looking down at his phone.
Are your parents actually making you go to America? That’s some crazy homophobic bs
Regulus, again, rolls his eyes at Narcissa’s text.
Yeah some major bullshit. I swear. Sirius is actually excited. Can you believe that?
“Regulus are you listening to me?” Walburga says, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Sorry, mother.”
“Now, like I was saying. You will. Will. Uphold the family name, even in America. I’m sure the Potters.. are good people… but still. Hold up the name. You have a lot to be proud of.” She points her finger in their faces, making them back off, “I better not hear any bad things from the Potters.”
Regulus and Sirius make eye contact then immediately split, trying not to burst out laughing.
The Blacks are well known in France, having come from money and power. But in America? They don’t care. All they care about is beer and football.
“Flight 765 to Omaha, Nebraska is now boarding.”
“Don’t forget to call when you get there. I want to talk to this.. Fleamont,” Orion says, straightening his shoulders and standing taller.
“Yes father,” Sirius groans, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
“Yes father,” Regulus repeats, unplugging his phone from the wall and putting his charger in his back pack.
“See you next year,” Walburga says before walking off. Orion follows, walking a safe distance away from her. The Blacks don’t show affection in public. That was one of the first rules Regulus learned.
And just like that, the Black brothers are off to a completely different country.
“Do you know anything about the Potters?” Regulus asks Sirius as they find their place on the plane.
“Not really. Mother said it’s the two parents and a kid my age. James,” Sirius says as he hands the ticket to the gate agent, “also mother said they have a dog.”
“Really?” Regulus says, his eyes lighting up. He’s always loved dogs. He also hands his ticket to the flight agent, watching as she scans the barcode.
“Have a nice flight,” The woman says, smiling.
“You too-“ Sirius starts before stopping himself. He clamps his mouth shut and starts to walk down the bridge to the plane.
“Idiot,” Regulus mumbles under his breath. He takes the tickets from the agent, a smile on his face, then walks down the bridge to the airplane.
In all honestly, Regulus isn’t scared. He’s just annoyed. His parents are so unbelievably petty that they are sending Regulus and Sirius to America, the Midwest specifically. People from the Midwest are so homophobic.
“Maybe. Just maybe. A trip to America would set your mind straight,” Walburga threatened after Sirius was caught bringing a boy home.
Sirius finds their seats, luckily, they are sitting right next to each other.
“I call window,” Regulus says, already slithering his way into the window seat.
“But-“
“Nope.”
Sirius groans as he flops down into the middle seat. He curses under his breath as he gets his phone out.
“How long is this flight again?” Sirius asks, turning his phone to airplane mode.
“Fourteen.. hours. Something like that,” Regulus mumbles, already pulling out his headphones.
Sirius groans again as he picks a movie out on the little screen in the back of the seat in-front of them.
Regulus completely ignores the flight attendant at the front of the plane. He’s heard this speech so many times he practically has it memorized. He knows the safety precautions from the flights he would take with his family. The Blacks do a lot of traveling.
Sirius is paying full attention. He does this every time. He gets so paranoid about the idea of crashing then relaxes as soon as they are in the air. Regulus thinks it’s probably not healthy to work himself up like that, but it’s always so funny to see Sirius grip the arm rest as they take off.
—
It’s not even two hours into the flight when Sirius falls asleep. He rolled his head to the side, resting on Regulus’s shoulder. His mouth is slack and slightly open. It didn’t annoy Regulus at first, but now the heavy weight of his brother’s head is pissing him off.
Regulus curses as he sets down his book, marking the page with a book mark. He cradles Sirius’s head in his hands and tilts it, making his head droop over to the other side.
Finally, Regulus can relax and read his book.
That’s until Sirius starts snoring so loud that Regulus can’t focus. He gets a strange urge to cover Sirius’s mouth with a pillow.
Regulus sighs then puts his headphones back in, blasting music so loud to block out his brother’s snores.
—
It’s six hours into the flight when Sirius wakes up again. Regulus had fallen asleep, book in hand. His head is back and tilted, mouth slightly parted.
Sirius groans, reaching up to massage his sore neck from the awkward sleeping position. He turns the movie he was watching back on, putting in his headphones. Then he looks back over at Regulus and sighs.
He carefully slips the book from Regulus’s grasp and puts the bookmark in. Then, ever so gently, he coaxes Regulus’s head to his shoulder. He doesn’t want Regulus to wake up with a sore neck.
That’s the thing about Sirius. He’s always looking out for Regulus, even if he doesn’t know it. Sirius has taken the brunt of the abuse from his parents. The screaming. The yelling. The fists. Sirius has taken it over and over again so Regulus doesn’t have too. And he’d do it over and over and over again, if it guarantees Regulus is safe.
He loves Regulus, even if he doesn’t say it.
“Soda?” A flight attendant passes by with a cart, her very thick American accent catching Sirius off guard.
“Pardon?”
“Soda?” She repeats, gesturing to the cart.
“Right… errr… waters fine,” Sirius mumbles, his eyes scanning the cart.
“And for your friend?”
“Waters fine for him too.”
And there he goes again, taking care of Regulus without Regulus knowing.
—
The fourteen hours to America is the most boring fourteen hours Regulus has ever felt. He woke up with four hours left in the flight. He finished his book with two hours left. Sirius fell back asleep with an hour left. Regulus has been staring at the map on the screen, watching as they fly over different states.
Regulus opens the screen to the window, looking down as they pass squares of green and brown. It’s different from flying over France. France, all you can see are cities or just green. In the US, you can see squares of farm land, gravel roads, and barely any cities for miles.
Regulus likes watching the squares go past, so that’s what he does. He doesn’t even realize as Sirius wakes up and packs his things up. He doesn’t even realize that the plane had started to descend until the seatbelt light came on. He quickly fastened it over his stomach then looks back out the window. They are so low now that Regulus can make out cars on the busy streets of Omaha. There’s a river right next to the airport, one that Regulus assumes is the border. He’s done a decent amount of research, thank you very much.
Finally, after what feels like ages, the plane touches the ground. They pull into the gate and wait, wait some more, then are cleared to get off the plane. Regulus quickly packs his things up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Sirius does the same. They both walk off the plane; Regulus curses at somebody that bumps into him.
Eppley Airfield is so tiny it makes Regulus feel out of place. There aren’t many gates and they are all in the same terminal. Regulus scans the room. In the middle is a small shop, which has a large shelf for books and magazines. There is a bar with basically no one in it expect an old guy with a beer.
“Where do we.. go?” Sirius mumbles, standing next to Regulus.
“Baggage claim?”
“Right, probably.. and where’s that?” Regulus points to a sign that leads them to baggage claim. They walk around the corner of the airport, back through security, around the Scooters (an American coffee shop) and down the escalator. They finally reach baggage claim, which only has two sad little carousels. Sirius quickly finds their bags.
“Now what?” Regulus asks, yawning. The jet lag is starting to kick in, making him increasingly tired.
“Um.. well.. I texted the Fleamont guy that we made it off the plane.. so.. he should be here soon. He said he’s in a red truck,” Sirius mumbles, rereading the text Monty sent him.
“Right.”
“That one?” Regulus points through the glass doors.
“No.. that one’s too nice… he said it’s pretty beat down.” The two brothers walk out the glass doors and onto the sidewalk outside of the airport.
Regulus won’t lie, Omaha doesn’t smell great, but it’s nothing compared to Paris. Paris is filled with so many people, so many factories, that Omaha seems refreshing. Omaha is a small city compared to some others. Regulus likes it.
“Do these people live in Omaha?” Regulus asks, almost hopeful.
“No,” Sirius mutters, looking down at the photo Monty sent of his truck.
Well, the little tiny flicker of hope Regulus had is now gone.
“They live like.. 30 minutes from here. That’s what mother said at least. Johnson.. something. County maybe? I don’t know. It’s a small town though.”
Perfect. Just perfect.
Finally, a beat down Ford pulls into the pick up lane. It’s diesel. Regulus can tell because he can smell it.
A man gets out of the truck and walks over to them.
“Sirius and Regulus?” He says, his voice gravelly and deep and so American.
“Mhm.” Sirius gazes up at him, not slightly imitated. If anything, he’s interested. Monty is tall, strong, and tan, but something about him is so soft. He has round circle glasses and dark brown hair. He’s in a red shirt with jeans, and actual boots. Like the ones Regulus would see in movies. He smells like his truck and tobacco. The smell of tobacco is overwhelming.
“Well, we better get going,” Monty says, quickly lifting their heavy bags into the back of his truck with no effort at all, “excuse the mess. Busy week at work.”
Sirius and Regulus climb into the back seat. Regulus awkwardly fiddles with his fingers as Sirius falls into a light conversation with Monty.
“Well,” Monty mumbles through a mouth full of chewing tobacco, “James is quite the football player. Quarterback.”
“Wait, like real football? With the pads and stuff?”
“What do you mean- oh. Do y’all not have football back in France?”
“Well, no.”
Monty almost looks offended. He spends the entire car ride to Johnson County rambling on about football. He talks about the NFL and college football. Apparently, the Potters are big Eagles fans, since that’s where Monty grew up.
Regulus observes Omaha through the back window. There is basically nobody walking, almost everyone is driving. They drive past a little league field, where a club baseball team is having practice. Sirius swoons over that.
“I’ve always wanted to play baseball.”
They drive past UNO, the University of Nebraska- Omaha.
“That’s where I went to school,” Monty says “where I met my Effie.”
Regulus notices the amount of confusing roads and mentally notes to figure them out. There’s a bunch of merging and passing that goes on. Monty does it without even thinking. Regulus admires that.
After a while, they make it out of Omaha and onto the interstate.
“This, if you keep going, will lead ya to Lincoln, but we get off only a couple miles onto the interstate,” Monty explains, carefully timing when to switch lanes.
“Lincoln?” Sirius asks, moving his gaze from the window to Monty.
“It’s the capital. It’s smaller than Omaha, though. Where UNL is and everything. You get the gist,” Monty explains lazily, looking over his shoulder and switching lanes.
“Oh.”
The car falls back into a comfortable silence as they make it off the interstate. The road to Johnson County is gravelly and bumpy. Monty turns left past a gas station and up the hill.
“Thought I should show ya. This is the high school you’ll go to.” Monty slows down and drives past the high school. It’s tiny, almost a third of the size of the one back home. Regulus notices the football field, which is way larger than he expected them to be. The bleachers on the side are really tall, almost scarily tall. “James will be driving you to school each day. He has a drivers license and everything.”
Monty drives past the high school and down a hill, onto yet another dirt road. This time, Monty takes a left and pulls into an old farmhouse.
It’s white with a long wrap around porch. Each window has a flower pot, blooming with different types of flowers. The windows are open, along with the screen door. There’s rocking chairs on the porch, a basketball hoop in the driveway, another truck, and an above ground pool in the back. The entire property is enclosed with trees, casting shade over the home. In the back, Regulus can spot an old barn.
Monty parks the truck and turns it off, getting out and walking to the back to get their bags. Regulus and Sirius quickly make eye contact then get out at the same time, Regulus’s shoes squeaking ontop the mud.
It smells much nicer out here than it does in Omaha. It’s fresh and clean. Refreshing. Regulus can smell something cooking from the house and his stomach involuntarily grumbles. He curses himself then walks around the truck to help Monty get their bags out.
“I just want to warn you. My wife is very excited to meet you two,” Monty chuckles, walking towards the porch. A golden retriever pads over from the other side of the house, then immediately breaks out into a run when it notices Monty. “Well, hello buddy.”
Monty kneels down and pets the dog. Regulus now sees what’s so soft about Monty. He’s not scary, just a big man with a heart to match it.
“Boys, this is our doggy, Buddy,” Monty says, moving Buddy by his collar to face the two Black brothers.
“Hi, Buddy,” Sirius greets, ruffling the dog’s fur. Regulus steps forward and pets the dog as well, a soft smile on his lips.
“James should be getting home soon so let’s get you two settled,” Monty says, effortlessly lifting the two bags into his shoulders and walking in the house. Sirius whistles under his breath then follows.
The house makes Regulus stops in his tracks. He felt like he was wrapped in a warm hug the moment he stepped in. The shoes aren’t neat beside the door, instead thrown into a pile. Both Regulus and Sirius take off their shoes and place them neatly. The house smells like vanilla, baked goods, and laundry.There are so many photos on the walls, Regulus doesn’t even know where to start. Nothing about the house is perfect, and that’s what makes it so perfect.
There are clothes on the floor, some of which Regulus assumes belongs to James. A backpack has been long forgotten by the back door. Their mail and keys are all tossed into one bowl on the counter. Winter clothes have been tucked underneath the counter in an old laundry basket, a glove hanging off the side.
Regulus follows Sirius and Monty through the house. The kitchen, living room, and dining room are all an open floor plan. There are flowers in every single room, all in full bloom. The windows are all open, including all the screen doors.
Monty leads them both up the stairs, “so. The room at the end of the hall is mine and Effie’s, this one,” Monty knocks on a door, “is James’s. These two are yours. And then the bathroom is right here.”
Sirius and Regulus nod at the same time. Monty opens the first door.
“This one is Sirius’s.” The room is smaller than Sirius’s back home, but a part of him likes that. There is a dresser, a desk, a twin sized bed, and a large window. On the bed is a tiny box with a hoodie next to it.
Welcome Home, Sirius - Love, the Potters
Sirius almost, almost, tears up as he reads the note. Inside the box is a bottle of shampoo, a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, a small bottle of cologne, and a box of chocolate. The hoodie says Johnson County Central High School. It’s a maroon color with the letters in white.
“Thank you,” Sirius mumbles, his fingers tracing over the letters.
“We’ll let you settle in. Cmon, Regulus,” Monty waves Regulus along to the room next door. The room is almost identical to Sirius’s. Almost everything is the exact same way. Monty sets his suitcase down and slowly closes the door, giving him space.
On the bed is a care package identical to the one Sirius got, except his hoodie is gray with maroon lettering. Regulus sets his stuff in the box and gently closes it, putting it on the nightstand. He flops down on the bed and falls asleep so quickly that he doesn’t remember closing his eyes.
—
“Get up, asshole, it’s time for lunch,” Sirius shakes him awake.
“Mm..” Regulus groans, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He’s so unbelievably jet lagged.
“Cmon. Get up.” Sirius drags him by his arm and forces him to get up. He ruffles Regulus’s messy hair slightly, trying to fix it. “Good enough. Let’s go.”
Sirius leads the way down to the dining room. Regulus almost melts at the smell of a home cooked meal. He feels like he could eat literally anything. Monty is sitting at the head of the table, reading the paper. A woman, who Regulus assumes is Effie, is plating food for them.
“Ah, how nice of you to join us,” Monty mumbles, mouth full of chew, “James will be here soon. He just had to finish up some football conditioning. Sit, make yourselves comfortable.”
Effie comes over with plates of food and Sirius greet in a typical French way, two kisses on the side of her cheeks. She blushes and tenses.
“Idiot,” Regulus mumbles. Even he knows that in America kissing people on the cheeks is not a custom.
“What? What did I?” Sirius asks, genuinely confused.
Effie sets down her plates of food, a soft smile on her lips, “that’s not a custom in America, darling. You either shake hands or hug.”
Sirius blushes so fast that Regulus has to cover his mouth to keep him from laughing.
“I’m so sorry, miss. I didn’t realize-“
“It’s okay, darling, just don’t go around doin’ that. Most Americans won’t appreciate it.” Effie smiles then walks back into the kitchen. Sirius slumps down into his chair. Regulus makes eye contact with Monty, who’s smiling into his paper.
“Oh, go on ahead and eat you two, don’t wait up for me!” Effie says from the kitchen.
Regulus feels odd with the permission to eat before everyone is at the table. Clearly, Sirius doesn’t because he’s diving into the food before Effie even finished her sentence.
In the Black family, you’re always supposed to wait until everyone is at the table until you eat. Sirius, obviously, hasn’t been good at following that rule. Regulus has watched him pop a couple mouthfuls of food into his mouth before his parents sat down.
So, slowly, Regulus reaches over and grabs himself a sandwich; ham, cheese, mayo, and bread. He also grabs a spoonful of fruit and a handful of chips. He felt so sickeningly American in this moment.
That’s when the front door swung open.
“Buddy, seriously, your paws are- ma! You didn’t tell me that they were going to be here now!” James exclaims, quickly jumping out of sight.
Regulus caught a glimpse of his bare chest.
James quickly puts a shirt on then walks into the kitchen, face slightly pink. He’s sweating, his dark hair sticking to his forehead.
Regulus blinks, looking from Monty to James. They look so alike. Same hair. Same skin tone. Same glasses. Same nose. But James had Effie’s eyes, that’s for sure.
“Sorry, honey, I thought your father told you,” Effie says, sliding a glass of lemonade to Sirius and Regulus. “Well, this is Sirius.”
Sirius lifts his gaze and waves, his mouth full of food.
“And Regulus.”
“Hey,” James says, smiling.
“Hi,” Regulus says, his French accent immediately causing James to blush even more.