Chapter 4
Remus is on cloud nine after his win. Usually, he hates attending parties after fights, he’s always too tired and too beat up to enjoy it properly. Not that he would enjoy it anyway. But tonight, despite going three rounds in the cage, he’s still brimming with restless energy. Frank must sense it because he invites Remus to go to a bar, normally he wouldn’t bother. For lack of a better option, Remus agrees.
Remus rides with Alice and Frank. They’ve both already congratulated him and Frank has given him some critiques—always in trainer mode—and now they’re talking in hushed tones about Crouch Jr. Remus is pretending he can’t hear. If it really were private they would talk about it at home without him, but it’s the principle of it.
“I invited him tonight,” Alice tells Frank. “Maybe you can talk to him.”
Frank hums noncommittally. “Yeah, I’ll see.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means I’ll see. We don’t even know if he’ll show up.”
“He said he will.”
“Maybe he was just being polite,” Frank says. Remus doesn’t think Crouch is the type to ‘just be polite,’ but he stays silent. “Maybe you scared him so he just agreed,” Frank adds. Well, Remus can believe that. Alice can be fucking scary.
Case in point: she reaches over with one hand to smack Frank’s arm. Hard. “I am not scary,” she says firmly.
“Okay, okay.” If Frank weren’t driving, Remus is sure he’d hold his hands up in surrender. “You’re not scary.”
“Besides, he seemed pretty keen. He even invited his friends. Regulus and Evan, I think.”
“Regulus Black?” Remus asks before he can stop himself. So much for pretending he wasn’t listening.
“I’m not sure, he just said Regulus.”
“Short, curly-haired, grey eyes?”
“I wouldn’t say he was short…” Alice thinks it over. “But yeah, he was definitely shorter than you and the rest matches. He’s rather cute don’t you think?”
Taken aback, Remus just blurts out an unconvincing: “No!”
Alice ignores him and continues teasing. “Why? Were you planning on taking him home?”
“Alice,” Frank laughs. “Leave the kid alone.”
Frank reamed Remus out for his stunt in yelling at Regulus while he was fighting, but it was more for getting distracted than actually yelling at Regulus.
“It could have cost you the fight. You can’t afford distractions when you’re in the octagon,” Frank had said, like Remus was still just a newbie, like he didn’t have years of experience.
Still, Remus knew better than to undermine his coach so he just nodded.
“Why’d you want his attention so bad anyway?” Frank had asked once he finished telling Remus off.
Remus didn’t have an answer.
He wasn’t sure what it was, but the incident with Regulus stayed with him and seeing him again had set something off in him. He wanted to make sure Regulus Black knew he was dangerous, he didn’t need to throw a name around for it either, he just was. He wanted to hang violence over Regulus’ head like a threat and make him get on his knees, grateful that all Remus had done was give him a light choking. If Regulus Black wanted him to know what the Black name was capable of then Remus wanted Regulus to know what he was capable of.
Thankfully, Alice doesn’t push the topic of Regulus. Remus knows that she’s just ribbing him, but it hits a little close. She doesn’t know how much he’s thought about Regulus in the past weeks. It’s not that Remus wants to fuck him—although he wouldn’t be opposed—it’s more that he wants to put Regulus into his place, whether it's in a sexual way or not.
The bar is brimming with people when they arrive. It’s more of a pub than a bar and Remus even spots children sitting at some of the tables. Still, it’s awfully loud, the noise level rivalling an actual bar, and Remus realises that almost everyone in the room was also at the fight. There are people from other gyms but it’s overwhelmingly Gryff and Remus can’t help but wonder if Black and his friends will feel uncomfortable. Can’t help but hope.
Frank ushers everyone over to a table where their friends and other people from the gym have gathered. Peter is among them. Remus tries to follow Frank closely, but he keeps getting stopped by people who want to congratulate him and pat him on the back. He knows they mean well but he can’t help feeling annoyed.
“Congrats, man,” Peter says when Remus reaches him. He slides off his seat to give Remus a proper hug. “I knew you could do it.”
Remus pats him on the back a few times then lets go. “Thanks, Pete.”
“Come on, let’s get you a drink.”
The rest of the people, Frank and Alice included, are wrapped up in their own conversations so Remus just follows Peter to the bar. Peter wants to do shots, but Remus insists on just drinking beer. He doesn’t drink much alcohol, he’s not allowed when he’s in camp before a fight, but he generally tries to stay away.
“But you just won,” Peter whines. “We should celebrate.”
“No, I can’t.”
Peter doesn’t get it. Fighting is everything to Remus. He needs to be strict with himself in order to be successful and that means no drinking, even in celebration.
“Fine.” Peter acquiesces easily, he always tries, but he’s used to it. “But one day,” he says.
Remus shrugs. “Maybe.”
Probably not.
Remus surveys the room as Peter chats to the bartender. It’s a stroke of luck when his eyes are on the doorway just as Regulus Black enters.
+
Regulus hates Barty and Evan. Of course, he hates how much he loves them even more. After all, if he didn’t love them he wouldn’t be here.
“I’m going to find Alice,” Barty says as soon as they enter the bar—no, pub. Regulus fucking hates pubs. He doesn’t understand. If you want to drink, go to a bar. If you want to eat, go to a proper restaurant. But Regulus is actively trying to not be a snob so he keeps his mouth shut.
“I’ll come,” Evan says. Regulus is about to protest but Evan says, “I’ll pretend to be your manager or something. You’ll look more professional.” It’s a good idea, even if it’s only because Barty is terrible at being professional.
“Reg?” Barty asks.
Regulus rolls his eyes and starts walking towards the bar, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be fine. Find me later.”
Regulus orders a beer and is sitting at the bar sipping at it, debating whether he should go through practice questions on his phone or if that would be too strange when someone taps him on the shoulder.
It’s a man. He’s fairly tall, maybe an inch taller than Regulus, and extremely ginger.
“Can I help you?” Regulus asks flatly when the man—Regulus dubs him Ginger—doesn’t say anything.
“I was thinking I could help you,” Ginger replies, dimples popping out when he smiles at Regulus.
Regulus gives him an unimpressed look. “With what?”
Ginger doesn’t falter. “You looked lonely,” he says. When Regulus doesn’t reply, he adds, “I’m Gideon.”
Huh.
He got the G right.
“Cool,” Regulus says. He turns back to the bar, hoping the man gets the hint.
“Are you not—”
“I am,” Regulus says shortly. “Just not for you.”
“Listen here.” Gideon’s voice raises. Great. Another one of those types. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—”
“Can you just fuck off,” Regulus groans. “Seriously. Leave,” he softens his voice, “I’m sorry, I’ve had a bad day.”
The saying you catch more flies with honey must be true because Gideon huffs an apology and leaves. Or maybe the opposite is true? Regulus wasn’t exactly catching Gideon.
Regulus feels a stab of relief when Gideon leaves, going back to his table, but there’s also disappointment. Judge as he may, Regulus likes to fight as much as Barty, just not with his fists. He gets a little—or more than a little—guilty pleasure out of eviscerating people with just his words. It’s unfairly fun.
His disappointment doesn’t stick around for long because, in his peripheral vision, he sees Remus Lupin slip into the spot previously occupied by Gideon. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt and dark jeans. His T-shirt’s not tight but Regulus knows the layers of tight muscles that exist under it. In comparison, Regulus probably looks delicate, swamped in his oversized hoodie that he threw over his shirt. His heart jumps, not out of fear, they’re surrounded by people, Lupin won’t try anything, but anticipation.
Regulus ignores Lupin and stares resolutely at his beer as eyes burn into the back of his head. He just manages to withhold a flinch when he feels fingers graze lightly against the curls lying on the nape of his neck.
He turns to face Lupin, regarding him cooly. “What do you want?”
Lupin smirks. “You’re supposed to ask if you can help me.”
“You heard that?” Regulus hadn’t noticed Lupin lurking.
“Hard not to.” Lupin shrugs. “Why didn’t you bitch slap him too?”
Regulus’ jaw drops. “I didn’t bitch slap you.” It was a very proper punch, thank you very much.
“Sure, sweetheart.”
“Why were you lurking anyway?”
“Thought you might need some help.” Lupin smirks down at him.
Regulus bristles. “Like I’d ever need your help.”
To his surprise, Lupin laughs, low and dark. “Oh, I know,” he says. He leans closer. “I’m much more likely to be putting you in danger.”
Regulus pulls away. “Oh?” he raises an eyebrow, “you don’t seem very dangerous.”
It’s such a blatant lie that Lupin just laughs again.
Regulus takes it as a slight. “You think parading around a ring shirtless, fighting people, and yelling at me makes you scary? You’re a goddamn barbarian and the only thing scary about you is—” Regulus cuts himself off, horrified to realise he can’t think of anything. It’s not that Lupin isn’t scary, it’s more that everything that makes him intimidating also makes him hot— No. “Your face,” Regulus finishes weakly.
“My face is scary?” Lupin asks, amused.
“Horrifying,” Regulus lies.
“Uh-huh.”
Regulus swallows harshly when Lupin brings a hand up to his throat.”What—” He clears his throat. “What are you doing?”
Lupin traces his Adam’s apple absently. “Hm?”
Regulus doesn’t make a move to shake him off. He can’t. The only muscle he seems to be in control of is his mouth. “Get—”
His statement breaks off when Lupin’s hand slides up slightly, his thumb and index pressing firmly where Regulus’ carotids lie. Fuck. it’s not tight enough to cut off circulation to his brain but he feels lightheaded anyway.
“Did it bruise?” Lupin murmurs.
It takes a moment for Regulus to realise what he’s talking about and when he does, he forcibly removes Lupin’s hand, surprised when Lupin moves willingly. “No,” he snaps. Lie.
Lupin cocks his head. “Pity.”
Before Regulus gets to ask what the fuck he’s on about, Barty interrupts, barrelling in between them. “There you are, Reg.”
Regulus looks behind Barty to see Evan, Alice, and who he assumes is Frank. “Hey,” he offers, holding a hand for Frank to shake, “I’m Regulus.”
“Frank Longbottom.”
Barty claps his hand and shoves Lupin and Regulus a bit so they’re facing everyone else. Regulus is surprised Lupin just goes with it. “Lupin. I’m Barty,” he says to Lupin, “otherwise known as the guy you beat up a month ago.” Lupin opens his mouth to say something, certainly not an apology by the unrepentant smirk on his face but Barty continues. “I’m also going to be your sparring partner.”
Lupin doesn’t even look surprised, he just grins at Barty and holds out his hand, pulling Barty into one of those ‘bro-hugs’ that Regulus despises. “Call me Remus,” he says once they pull away. “Welcome to Gryf.”
“Thanks, man,” Barty replies. He points to Regulus and then Evan. “These are my best friends. Reggie and Evan. Ev is my manager too, but you’ll probably be seeing a lot of both of them. I drag them around everywhere.”
“Good to know,” Lupin replies.
Out of patience, Regulus says, “Great. Can we leave now?” Then realising he’s probably coming across as rude he explains, “I have a test coming up and I need to study.”
Frank and Alice smile while Barty and Evan roll their eyes. Regulus pointedly does not look at Lupin. “Yeah, fine,” Barty says.
They say their goodbyes and then they’re leaving. But not before Lupin calls out, “See you around, Reggie.” Regulus has to clench his fists by his side to resist flipping him off.