that irish muggle
James awoke with the sun streaming through their blinds, the cool air tickling his feet that were sticking out of the covers. He felt around for Regulus on his side of the bed, but it was empty. His worry was quelled by the voices of his his, Harry, and Sirius’ echoing down the hall. James yawned, stretching out in bed. Then, he closed his eyes and started to take inventory.
It was something Riley had taught James in last week’s session. First, start with things you’re grateful for , they said. James first let his mind wander to the people in his house at the moment. Regulus, Harry, Sirius. Remus was probably there too. His parents. He thought about his house, his garden. The sunlight warming his skin. He had listed these same things to Riley at the time. James remembered their inquisitive eyes studying his. Now, what about you? Are you grateful for yourself?
Can one be grateful for themself, he thought? He had asked Riley, and they simply shook their head, assuring him that they would return to this topic when he could handle it. It was a good thing, too, because James had felt his heart quicken, his hands beginning to shake. All signs, he had discovered in their sessions, that he was spiraling. A trigger , he learned.
James abandoned his thoughts when the scent of freshly baked croissants drifted into their bedroom. He promptly swung his legs over the bed and into his slippers, because Regulus’ croissants had to be consumed within minutes of smelling them. It was James’ personal rule, a rule that he had (much to Regulus’ amusement) passed down to Harry, too.
He made his way down the hall, and once he had his glasses on his face, he saw the tray of croissants laid out on the stovetop, and his husband, best friend, and son sitting around the table filled with croissants. James couldn’t see a sliver of countertop that wasn’t covered with a crescent shaped pastry. Harry was in the midst of smearing copious amounts of butter on his treat, giggling. He handed the knife to Regulus, who just raised his eyebrows at his son’s antics.
“ Merci beaucoup , Harry.”
“Marry bear-coop, papa,” Harry said around the crumbs in his mouth.
“Eh, close enough.”
Sirius returned the giggles, poking the side of Harry’s cheek, and swallowed his croissant in one bite. “No, Haz, darling, you would say je vous en prie .”
Regulus grimaced and reached over to wipe a smear of butter off of Harry’s cheek. “Honestly, Sirius, did Mother and Father crucio you so hard you forgot how to chew with your mouth closed?”
“Oi, now that’s just–” Sirius spotted James leaning against the doorframe and smiled, throwing his hands in the air. “Jamie!”
James chuckled and ruffled Sirius’ hair on the way to the stovetop. “I see we’ve got our other child with us today, Reg.”
Regulus rolled his eyes and stood up with his plate, placing it in the sink. “Yes, well, he came unannounced, then proceeded to make enough croissant dough to feed an entire army.”
Sirius held up one finger in feigned indignation. “Well, I seem to remember someone rolling all of the said dough and not letting me near the kitchen!”
Regulus scoffed and wrapped his arms around James’ middle, burying his head in his chest. James places a kiss on top of his unruly morning hair. “Because you’re awful at rolling croissants, always have been.”
James hummed and set his plate down to rub circles in Regulus’ shoulders. He pulled Regulus’s smiling mouth up to his. “Mhmm, say croissant again.”
Sirius made a noise of disgust and raised one hand to levitate his plate into the sink and the other to make a show of covering Harry’s eyes. “Ew, gross, not in front of the child!”
James peppered kisses on his husband's face and neck, while Regulus stuck his tongue out at his brother. “Says you, you horndog.”
Harry giggled and battled away his godfather’s hand, still chomping away at the croissant clutched in his hand. “Da-da, what is horndog?”
James raised his eyebrows at Regulus, unwrapping himself from him and taking a big bite of his own croissant, turning to sit next to Harry. “That’s all you, love.”
Regulus sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, waving his hand over Harry’s high chair tray to clean up the mess he had made. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with, mon chou .” Regulus paused at the windowsill above the sink, and gingerly picked up the pill bottle that sat next to the succulent. “James, make sure to take these.” He tossed the bottle at James, but Sirius was quicker. His eyes scanned over the label with James’s name printed in bold and highlighted yellow. His eyes flitted between James, who was looking at him with apprehension, and Regulus, who had crossed his arms against his chest, eyebrows raised.
“Prongs, what is this?” He squinted at the bottle, then held it away from his face, as if he couldn’t read anymore. “What is … zo… loft ?”
James hastily grabbed the bottle from Sirius, glancing at Harry. He was completely oblivious, fiddling with two of Sirius’ rings that he had managed to slip from his fingers. Regulus took the hint, though, and gently scooped him from his chair, murmuring something about trains. Whatever it was, it made Harry shout with glee.
“James… what’s going on?”
Jame twisted the cap off, quickly dumping out two of the round, white pills and popping them in his mouth. “Muggle medicine,” he said shortly. He reached over and took a sip of water from Harry’s sippy cup, not bothering to get up. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to move from his chair.
Sirius turned his body so he was fully facing James. He took a moment, and then: “Are you sick?”
James let out a strangled laugh that even startled himself. “You could say that.”
“What?! What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
James waved him away, suddenly standing up and walking over to the other side of the kitchen table. He suddenly needed space between the other man. He wasn’t sure why, but he was terrified. “Just a joke, calm down.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself with his hands on the back of Harry’s high chair.
“I’m going to therapy.”
“Like a healer?”
James rubbed the back of his neck. Sirius saw. “No, like Muggle therapy. A psychiatrist.”
Sirius let out a laugh. “Christ, what is a Muggle gonna help you with that magic can’t fix?”
James let out a short sigh of frustration, running his hands through his hair. “Sirius, what I have can’t be fixed with magic.”
“And what is it that you have, exactly?”
“Depression and anxiety,” he shrugged his shoulders, “well, if you want to be technical about it, major depressive disorder and panic disorder.”
Sirius rubbed a hand over the stubble that was beginning to form on his cheek. Harry called them his pokey pokies when Sirius would kiss him on the cheek. “So, you’re sad?”
James felt the tears beginning to form behind his eyes. This is what he was afraid of. He desperately tried to remember what Riley told him. Your feelings are valid, no matter what other people think of you .
“Pads, it’s not that simple.”
Sirius stood up, his chair screeching across the tile. James flinched and stepped back. “No, James, it is! Listen, I know you get in your moods sometimes, but you can’t be putting Muggle chemicals into your body willy nilly! Do you even know what’s in those things?” He gestured wildly to the bottle on the counter, as if it was marked with a skull and crossbones.
“Yes, Sirius, I’m not stupid! They went over them with me before I decided to take them. It’s a form of antipsychotic–”
“Oh, so what, they think you’ve gone mad? Then again, maybe you have, since you’re asking a Muggle for help!”
James could feel the tremors in his hands, his chest heating up. He didn’t notice his voice had risen. “You know what, Sirius, maybe I have! Because every single day it hurts to be alive.” He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and pushed his arm forward, willing Sirius to see. See what James thinks of himself, of what he has . “No sane person would do this.” He said the last part quietly, ashamed.
Sirius sucked in a tiny breath, He began to reach out, trying to find the words to say.
“Sirius, get out of my house.”
Regulus stood in the doorway, and James felt his heartbeat slow down. Regulus’ eyes surveyed James, then flitted back to his brother. He clenched his jaw, biting down all the words and curses James could tell he wanted to throw at Sirius.
“Reg, I–”
“No. You’re done.”
Sirius looked between the two, and James saw his eyes fall lower, toward Regulus’ feet. James followed his gaze, and saw Harry tucked behind the door, holding his stuffed lion in one hand and sucking on his thumb with the other.
“Ok.”
And Sirius was gone.
***
They had put Harry to bed shortly after. He insisted both his dads read to him, so they took turns voicing The Very Hungry Caterpillar , a book Remus had gotten him on one of their many field trips together to the bookstore down the street. Now, they lay in bed, James curled up against Regulus’ chest. He felt his steady heartbeat against his ear, and James mimicked the sound with quiet puffs of air.
Regulus chuckled at the soft noises, carding his fingers through James’ curls. “What are you doing?”
James hummed, wrapping his arms tighter around his torso. “Following my heart.”
Regulus pointed to his chest. “But this is my heart.”
“ Psh , same thing.”
Regulus let out a hearty laugh, the sound reverberating through James’ skull. “And you call me the sap.”
James turned his head, resting his chin on Regulus and giving him a small smile – about all he could give at the moment. “I know. We’re both saps. Deal with it.”
Regulus hummed, carding his hands though the other’s hair. It was quiet, save for the soft whir of the fan above them. Then:
“I know you don’t want to talk about it.”
“What gave you that idea?” James huffed. He felt Regulus’ chest rise and drop suddenly.
“James.”
“Regulus.”
Regulus grasped his chin with his thumb and middle finger, turning James to meet his eyes. “Jamie, stop,” and, softer:
“I just want to help. We just want to help.”
James grunted into a sitting position. “I know. I know, I'll talk to him tomorrow." James pulled at his hair – Regulus took notice, and immediately grabbed the hand, placing it in his own soft, black tresses. "I'm sorry."
“You don’t have to be, but I know you are.” His hand traveled down his arm, goosebumps prickling up on James’ arm. "It's not your fault."
On instinct, James moved his hand down to cup his husband’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbones, his bottom lip. Regulus, the absolute bastard, dipped his chin lower, catching the tip of James’ thumb in his mouth. Distracted with the scene in front of him, James murmured the first thought that crossed his mind.
“I learned a new song for you.”
Eyebrows raised with a soft grin, Regulus propped himself up on his elbows. “Did you, now?” He glanced at their door, cracked slightly in case a certain little wizard decided to come cuddle in the middle of the night. “Well, we can cast a silencing charm.”
“Oh, you want to hear it?”
Regulus playfully shoved James’s shoulder as he got up to fetch his guitar propped on the wall across the room. “You can’t drop that bomb on me and expect me to not want to hear it. “ He placed it in James’ waiting hands and stood, looking. He lightly touched his fingertips to the frets, glancing up at James shyly. “Besides, I can’t stop thinking about your singing ever since I caught you last time.”
James cocked his head, giving him a devilish grin. “Regulus Black, do you like it when I serenade you?”
Regulus gave James a loud peck on his cheek, “Just sing to me, James Potter- Black .” He raised an eyebrow pointedly. He snuggled back up in bed, putting a hand on James’ leg and rubbing circles in the fabric of his pajama pants. He murmured a silencing charm for the door – and yes, James would readily admit, the wandless magic did something to him.
“Your wish is my command, my love,” He strummed with an open fret, then tapped the tip of his wand against the tuning pegs. “Riley showed me this song, actually. A Muggle singer – Irish.”
Regulus wrinkled his nose. “At least he’s not American.”
James let out a short laugh. “Alright, stop pissing on Taylor Swift like that.”
Regulus simply rolled his eyes, nudging James to get on with it. He took a breath, his fingers brushing against the strings, and played.
All the fear and the fire
Of the end of the world
Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl
Happens great, happens sweet
Happily, I'm unfazed here, too
His thumb and middle finger plucked out the notes – James had played this so much the past few days, in the secrecy of his office, that he could close his eyes and just feel . One of the only times in the day he could, where his brain felt detached from his body.
Wasteland, baby
I'm in love
I'm in love with you
All the things yet to come are the things that have passed
Like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass
Like the bonfire that burns, that all words in the fight fell to
James could feel Regulus adjusting, moving so his chest was flush with James’ back. He curled his arms around James’ middle, careful not to interrupt him.
Wasteland, baby
I'm in love
I'm in love with you
And I love too
That love soon might end
Be known in it's aching
Shown in the shaking
Lately of my wasteland, baby
Be still, my indelible friend
You are unbreaking
Though quaking
Though crazy
That's just wasteland, baby
James turned slightly to breathe in the scent of Regulus, then further as he realized that he did not want to play anymore – he wanted his husband. Regulus made a sound of surprise as James, in one swift motion, set his guitar on the ground, pushed Regulus to lay on the bed, and envelop him in a kiss.
“I was going to do that,” Regulus whispered against his lips, “the way you… the way you–” the words died in his mouth as James sucked on the skin behind his ear.
James hummed teasingly, starting to lean away. “I what?”
The hand that was in James’ hair tugged him up to meet Regulus’ lips. “Idiot.”
Before James could debate the accusation any further, Regulus pulled his head down to crash his lips against his. They moved as one, like they always did. James’ hands drifted down to slip under Regulus’ shirt, and the hand in his hair scraped down his back, then further to cup his arse. James groaned against his lips, moving along Regulus’ jaw and scraping his teeth along his neck.
“I need you, now. ”
Regulus was panting heavily, wrapping his legs around James’ middle. “You have me, you have me, you have –”
James’ hand that dipped below his boxers cut off his words with a moan, hips bucking involuntarily. James smirked against his neck, pressing kisses lower and lower, rucking up his husband’s shirt and kissing below his navel. He pulled back slightly, his eyes raking up Regulus’ body, asking. Regulus nodded eagerly, making feeble attempts to push his pants down.
“Please, Jamie , je veux ta bouche .”
James hummed, dipping his head to press a kiss to his stomach again. He recognized that phrase.
“Mhmm, since you beg so nicely.”
He sucked on the exposed hip bone, then pressed his tongue against the future bruised skin. Regulus whined, and James pulled off his pants, tossing them somewhere across the room. He proceeded to ignore what Regulus really wanted him to lick, deciding to press kisses on the newly exposed skin of Regulus’ thighs. He could feel his muscles ripple beneath his tongue as Regulus tensed his legs.
“ Arrête de me taquiner ,” he breathed out, “James, stop teasing, it’s not – nice .”
He reached up from the spot between his legs, making Regulus whimper by brushing a thumb over his nipple. “Oh, you want me to be nice ?”
“No,” Regulus growled, gripping James’ hair so he looked up at him, “I want you to fuck me .”
James let his tongue dart out to wet his lips that were slowly turning upwards. He took in the scene before him: his love, begging yet demanding, below him. The one he got on his knees for, would always get on his knees for.
Smiling, James lowered his head, resuming his worship of the man, his sun and star, beneath him.