The music was playing so loud James could feel it rattling in his bones. The Firewhiskey settled in him in a way that had his head feeling fuzzy and his body feeling light. Weightless, even. The scent of leather, cigarettes, and something earthy fills his senses. Familiar. He’s quite content snuggled next to his best friend, Sirius Black, but the urge for more Firewhiskey has him shifting up and out of it. He sways a little as he reaches for the half-empty bottle, grinning triumphantly to himself when he manages to grab a hold of it. He’s just about to bring said bottle to his lips when a pale hand reaches out and takes it from him.
“Hey!” James protests, whining a bit like a child whose parents just told him he couldn’t get a candy bar from the shops.
“Sorry, Jamie, but we both know how much of a lightweight you are. You don't want to be too hungover to be able to go to Quidditch practice tomorrow do you?” Sirius says.
Oh, how James hated and loved how well the boy knew him. Of course, he knew the mention of Quidditch and James being too hungover to be able to practice would be enough to deter him from protesting further. “Fine,” James grumbles, definitely pouting a little.
“Oh don’t give me that face. That’s just unfair!” Sirius exclaims, setting the bottle back down.
“I don't know what you’re talking about,” James says, though he definitely does know.
“That,” Sirius points a long finger at his face. “That…pout. You know what you’re doing.”
“Being sad because my Sirius here decided to be the rational one for once?” James supplies, grinning slightly.
Sirius’ lips twitch up, just for a second, before settling back into a thin line. “I’m always rational, thank you very much.”
“Sure,” James says, sounding every bit unconvinced.
“You’re an arse,” Sirius grumbles, pushing James off the place he had resettled into against him. “Off.”
James obligingly moves, settling down in an armchair a few feet away from where Sirius sits on the couch. He’s not against being petty.
Sirius frowns immediately, eyebrows furrowing in a ridiculously endearing way. “Well now I miss you.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t thrown me off of you-” James starts.
“I did not throw you off of me. I simply just pushed you off,” Sirius argues.
James rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Potato, patato.”
Sirius huffs. “Come back.”
James pretends to think for a second. “Hmm, I don't know, this chair is really comfortable.”
Sirius rolls his eyes. “Oh fuck off, that chair is not comfortable. I, on the other hand, am.”
James gives an amused raise of his brows. “Is that so? I don't know, I found you rather lumpy and rude.”
Sirius scoffs. “Fine. Stay over there then. Arse.”
“Okay,” James says.
Sirius manages to last all of two minutes before sighing and speaking; “Okay fine you win the pettiness game. Now come back.”
James grins. “Well that's not a nice way to ask, is it?”
Sirius shoots James a glare before standing, walking the few feet to the armchair James is in, and then dumping himself rather unceremoniously into James’ lap. James lets out a shocked breath, cheeks tinging slightly at the sudden closeness. “And when have I ever been nice, Jamie?”
“You’re nice to me all the time,” James supplies. “Just yesterday you gave me your precious leather jacket because I was cold.”
Sirius rolls his eyes. “That’s because you’re you, that doesn’t count.”
“And why not?” James questions, finding it quite unfair.
Sirius gives him an unamused look, like James is stupid for even asking it. “Because you’re my favorite person so of course I’m nice to you.”
James smiles at the words. “You’re my favorite person, too.”
Sirius wrinkles up his nose. “Cheesy.”
James grins, bringing a finger up and smoothing down the previously wrinkled nose. “You love it.”
Sirius gets this glossy, dazed look in his eyes, pupils dilated. “I love you,” Sirius says, voice as much of a whisper as he can make it with how loud the music is playing.
James’ smile widens. He ignores the way his heart thudded harder at the words. Because Sirius loves him as a friend, a best friend, nothing more. And throughout the two years he’s been in love with the boy he’s come to realize that Sirius not reciprocating his feelings (though he doesn't actually have any proof of this because he’s never told Sirius about said feelings) was a manageable enough thing as long as he still got to be close to the boy. As long as he was still the person Sirius laughed with and pulled pranks with and played Quidditch with and came to when he had a bad day and smiled that perfect smile at. Sirius just being close would be enough.
“Look who’s being cheesy now,” James teases.
Sirius narrows his eyes at him. “I'm being serious.”
“Of course, you’re always Sirius.” James grins even as Sirius hits his shoulder.
“You are an-”
“I love you, too,” James interrupts. Sirius’ lips turn down and his eyebrows furrow slightly in the cutest way when he’s annoyed and James just couldn’t help it. And oh how James means it. I love you. I’m in love with you.
“Of course you do. You’d have to be a fool not to,” Sirius says, a cocky smirk crossing his face.
James rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty or else I’d push you off my lap,” James says before he can really think about the words.
Sirius cocks an eyebrow up. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks with a shit-eating grin.
“Everyone thinks you’re pretty,” James states. He swallows the they’d have to be a fool not to down his throat.
“I don't care what everyone thinks, I care what you think. Everyone pales in comparison to you,” Sirius says, gaze set on James.
“Even Pete and Remus?”
“Yes,” Sirius says immediately. James should probably not feel as happy as he does about that.
“Even your brother?” James challenges, certain that he’d prove Sirius’ earlier statement wrong.
“Yes,” Sirius replies again.
“Well, what about the girls?” James attempts.
“Yes,” Sirius says simply.
“Well what about-”
“Shut up, James,” Sirius says, effectively shutting James up by placing a hand over his mouth. James' mouth closes. “You could list every person on the planet and I’d still say yes.”
James feels his cheeks heat, probably tinging pink or, horrifyingly, red. James forces himself to laugh rather than confess his feelings right then and there because of how fondly Sirius is looking at him. “I guess I really am your favorite person,” he attempts to joke, voice muffled by Sirius’ hand but still audible. Sirius pulls his hand away.
“Yes,” Sirius agrees. He drops his hand back to his side and then moves both of them until they're wrapped around James’ stomach. His head comes to lay on the open space between James’ neck and shoulder a moment later, nuzzling his head a little to get comfortable.
James, in turn, wraps his arms around the boy as well, hands settling on his lower back. Though it's not long before he brings one of his hands up and cards it through the curly locks of Sirius’ hair.
They’re silent for a while after that, the sound of their in-sync inhales and exhales the only noise between them. The music still plays at a loud volume but James seems to mind a little less with Sirius pressed against him, holding the boy close. James runs his fingers through Sirius’ hair and along his scalp with delicate fingers, much like he does when Sirius wakes up from a nightmare and slips into James’ bed for comfort. There’s a soft familiarness to the way they hold and love each other, like they’ve done it for lifetimes and not just the past seven years. Maybe they have, done it for lifetimes that is, if that sort of thing exists. James is more sure than ever that it does, there’s no way one lifetime of knowing Sirius is enough.
“You deserve the world, Jamie,” Sirius says rather suddenly, breath tickling over James’ neck.
James wants to laugh over the suddenness of the statement, and he does, just a little. “I don't want the world,” James confesses. “I’d much rather just have the things I love.” James' hands tighten around Sirius unconsciously at the ‘things I love’ part of the sentence.
“What things?” Sirius asks, voice slightly muffled because he’s nuzzled his face deeper into James’ neck, nose tickling the hairs behind James’ ears.
James doesn't say anything. He’s too scared that if he opens his mouth Sirius’ name will fall off of his lips, and while that in itself wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing James knows he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from confessing the extent his love for Sirius goes.
Sirius pulls back from James’ neck, slightly dislodging James’ hand so it rests on Sirius’ neck now rather than in his hair. “What things, James?” Sirius asks again. His eyeliner is smudged from the heat of the collection of bodies in the common room and James finds himself wanting to reach out and try and fix it. He doesn't, knowing he would just smudge it more. He wonders if this is how people look at the stars, wanting to touch them but knowing not to.
“You know what things. I doubt I’m very hard to read,” James attempts to joke.
Sirius’ eyes scan over James’ face. “Not usually, no,” Sirius agrees. “But that’s because you usually just tell me things. Now you’re not.”
James sighs. He takes a second, figuring out what he wants to say so he doesn’t just start blabbering out things he definitely doesn’t want Sirius to know. “My family. Quidditch. My friends.”
“Me?” Sirius asks.
James thinks it’s a rather ridiculous question, of course him. Always. “Of course, you’re my friend. Best friend.”
“I know,” Sirius says.
James raises a brow. “Then why’d you ask?” he teases.
“Wanted to hear you say it so I don't do something stupid,” Sirius says.
James’ brows furrow. “What?”
“Nothing, Jamie.” Sirius’ tone is light, almost bordering on playful, and yet Sirius still starts unwrapping his arms from around James and shifting away.
“Why are you being all enigmatic now, that’s my thing,” James jokes, trying to lighten the mood even though he’s not quite sure why it shifted.
Sirius says nothing, just looks away and shifts more like he’s prepared to leave any second now.
“Siri,” James says, reaching a hesitant hand out and using it to take hold of Sirius’ chin and turn it back to meet James’. “You know you can tell me anything.”
Something twists in Sirius’ face and he shakes his head. “No, not this.”
James’ brows furrow again. He and Sirius always tell each other everything and Sirius is never one to keep a secret (except in regards to Remus’ transformation). “Why? You know I would never judge you,” James says. “What, are you finally going to quit Quidditch like you’ve been thinking about for months? Because I wouldn’t be upset if that’s what this was about.”
“No. Well, I probably will quit but that’s not what I was talking about.”
“Then what were you talking about?” James asks, concern growing. “You know I love you and that I would-”
“That’s the problem,” Sirius rushes out, looking like he immediately regretted saying it afterwards.
James’ brows furrow impossibly further. “Me loving you is the problem?”
“No!” Sirius sighs. “I’m the problem. Because I can't stop…why is it…it feels like impossible t-to ignore it.”
“Ignore it?” James asks. “Is this about your parents? Did they send you another letter?” Even the mere thought of it makes James angry. Because even though Sirius pretends to be unaffected by it, the last letter they sent had Sirius having a panic attack and crying and clinging to James for at least a few hours.
“No,” Sirius says again. “This-this is about you and your stupid need to care about someone like me. Do you know how hard it is to not just…A-and every room seems better when you're in it. And you have that stupid perfect smile that I’m sure could make even the saddest person's day better. And you touch like the fucking sun and I dont even know or understand how that’s possible but I think with you anything is.” Sirius is breathing heavy now and James’ first instinct is to soothe him, to run a hand over his cheek and the other over the place where it still rests on his neck. “And I’m tired of pretending and acting like-like I don't…”
James waits for Sirius to finish his sentence but after several moments he realizes that the boy isn't going to. “Then stop pretending,” James says, running a finger over Sirius’ cheekbone.
Sirius leans into the touch. “I-you’re my best friend. That…I can't.”
“Haven't you already started?” James asks.
Sirius seems to realize this fact for the first time. James can see the way panic seeps into his eyes, as well as his body. He no longer leans into James’ touch, rather shys away from it entirely. James berates himself for making the boy panic, because that’s what Sirius is doing; panicking.
“You need to breathe, Sirius. Okay? In…and out,” James says, exaggerating his breathing so Sirius will follow along with it. He does. “Good, you're doing so good, Siri. Another one, okay? In…and out.”
In.
Out.
In and out until their hearts are beating the same steady rhythm.
James’ hands move to cup the boy's face, leaning his forehead against Sirius’. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into the small space between them.
Sirius closes his eyes. “Wasn’t your fault,” he whispers back.
They’re quiet for a while after that, just leaning into each other, existing in each other's space, breathing in each other's oxygen.
James is, admittedly, all too aware of how easy it would be to move just an inch forward and press his lips against Sirius’. But he doesn’t know if that’s what the boy really wants. Yes, James is all too aware of the extent of what Sirius had just said but he never actually said what he felt, more like cut-up sentences that could have led to admittance but were cut short.
And then James realizes just how much of a hypocrite he is. Because he told Sirius to stop pretending but isn't that what James himself is still doing, pretending because he’s scared? Scared because he’s in love with his best friend, in love with the boy named after a star. And maybe, just maybe, Sirius is scared for the same reason.
James moves, the smallest shift of his nose against Sirius’. And Sirius shifts right back, nose nudging against James’ own. And then Sirius’ breath is hitching as James shifts an inch closer, close enough to brush his lips against Sirius’ if he wanted to. He waits, for Sirius’ reaction or the courage to actually move. Maybe both.
“Please,” Sirius breathes out, voice barely audible against the volume of the music playing.
But James hears him.
He moves, lips brushing against Sirius’. He hears and feels the shaky exhale that comes from the boy at the touch.
“Please,” Sirius whispers again.
James is quite sure he can taste the words, can feel as they flow from Sirius’ lips to his own. That’s all it really takes for him to press their lips together fully. Sirius makes a noise into the kiss, a whine maybe, and that just makes James press impossibly closer. The sun and the stars collide together as their lips, and eventually, tongues, move against each other. They are a burning fire, a flaming clash of heat. It should be catastrophic, the sun and a star clashing together, but really, it’s just them.
Minutes and hours and lifetimes flash before James as they kiss. It feels like an infinite thing, their lips against each other, something that is destined to be repeated again and again. And the kiss only gets more intense as they continue, desperation and wanting and love seeping into all the places that they meet until it feels like that’s all that they are.
James doesn’t know how long they sit like that, Sirius in James’ lap, kissing each other, before they pull away. The laws of time seem to cease to exist. The rest of the world seems to as well. That is until:
“Get a room you two!” Peter says from a few feet away, though he’s smiling. James has half a mind to believe that Peter thought that this was inevitably going to happen, him and Sirius.
Sirius grins. “I think we will.”
Peter grimaces. “I just remembered that we do, in fact, live together.”
“Mhmm,” Sirius says absentmindedly, much more focused on getting off of James and pulling said boy up and off of the chair. James goes willingly, dazedly smiling fondly at Sirius like the in-love fool that he is.
“Don’t have sex on my bed!” Peter calls out as Sirius leads James away from the party and towards the stairs leading up to their dormitory.
James and Sirius both laugh at that.
They go up the stairs at a leisurely pace, the alcohol still in their systems making them not so eager to move too quickly. James is quite sure he’s more drunk on Sirius’ touch than the alcohol at this point though. They’ve barely shut the door to their dorm before they’re kissing again. It’s much like the first time, though there are more frantic hands exploring every inch of the other that they can find. The door is hard against James’ back where he’s pressed against it but he finds he doesn't mind, not at all.
Sirius’ lips move down from James’ and to his neck, at first just letting his lips graze over the skin and then leaving soft kisses there. Yep, it's definitely just Sirius’ touch that is making him feel so drunk because James’ head is swimming with Sirius’ lips against his neck like that. The water matches the color of Sirius’ eyes.
James has never got so hard so embarrassingly quick. Sirius must feel it too, ‘it’ being James’ tented pants, because he pulls back from James’ neck. James whines at the loss (he wasn't even aware that was a sound he could make) and Sirius smiles up at him.
“Do you want to…?” Sirius asks, sounding just as breathless as James feels.
“Yes,” James says. “Do you?”
“Yes,” Sirius says immediately.
And then they’re kissing again, moving backwards as they do to get to James’ bed, the closer of the two. When Sirius’ legs hit the back of it the two pull back. It’s frantic after that, hands pulling off clothes in an unceremonious manner, flinging them off and away without a care about the mess they’re making. Once they’re both undressed they settle themselves on the bed, quickly getting lost again in kissing each other and touching the newly exposed expanses of skin.
“How do you want to?” Sirius asks, making the cutest moan as James sucks on the skin of his neck.
James’ mind reels at the thought of being with Sirius like that, of being with Sirius at all. “However you want,” James says.
“Do you want me to get you off?”
“Do you want to get me off?”
Sirius’ breath hitches at the question. “Yes.”
James nods. “Okay. Yes,” James says. “Do you want me to, too?”
“Do you want to?”
James nods embarrassingly quick. “Yes. Please.”
“Okay. Then yes,” Sirius breathes out.
It’s all a haze of pleasure after that. The whole world dies down with Sirius’ hand against him and his against Sirius. The loud music from earlier fades away, being replaced by Sirius’ whimpers and James’ own slew of something between a moan and a whine. Sirius’ hand feels nothing like how James’ own feels and James wonders if that’s just because it’s Sirius or if that’s how it always feels when someone else does this for you. He admittedly wouldn't have the experience to know. See, James only ever wants to do things like this if he really likes someone, and since he’s been in love with Sirius for two years and was much too young to have been having sex before then, this is his first time having someone do this for him. He’s glad Sirius is his first, glad he’s doing this with someone he’s in love with.
The whole thing doesn't last very long, both coming after a few mere minutes. They’re both panting afterwards, slumped against each other in an unceremonious heap. James can't stop smiling, the endorphins released from his orgasm or simply the effect of Sirius being close leaving him happy, so happy. Though James reckons it's mostly just Sirius.
“Do you want me to get my wand, I can do a cleaning charm for your hand?” Sirius asks after a moment.
James pulls back, looking down at his hand which is covered in streaks of white. Without really being able to stop himself or wanting to, James brings his hand up to his mouth and flattens his tongue against his palm, licking up a decent amount of Sirius’ come.
“Oh fuck, that should not be as hot as it was,” Sirius groans.
James grins, repeating the same motion again all the while keeping eye contact with Sirius. Sirius stares up at him while he licks his hand clean, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed.
“Do you want me to…?” James asks, looking pointedly at Sirius’ still messy hand.
“You have your wand on you?” Sirius asks, thinking James meant cleaning his hand with a cleaning spell.
“No,” James says. And then he’s picking up Sirius’ hand and bringing it to his mouth, repeating the same motion he did with his own.
“Merlin, are you trying to kill me, Jamie?” Sirius asks, voice airy.
James smiles. “Maybe,” he says. He presses a kiss to Sirius’ fingertips before slotting their fingers together.
Sirius laughs. James thinks it might be his favorite noise.
After, they resettle on the bed together, legs and hands intertwining. Sirius is practically laying on top of James, head resting on James’ sternum, arms wrapped around his waist. James runs his fingers through the boy’s hair, gazing fondly down at him. James thinks that if every day was like this, if every morning he woke up to Sirius lying on top of him, or if he spent every day in Sirius’ arms, he’d be the happiest boy alive. He supposes he already is.
I love you I love you I love you James thinks as the boy hums contentedly against James’ chest as James’ fingers run through his hair. The thought momentarily scares James, already ready to shove those feelings back down inside of him like he has so many times before. But then James remembers that he doesn’t have to be scared anymore.
James loves not having to be scared anymore. James loves the boy laying on top of him. The boy named after a star.
“I love you. I’m in love with you,” James whispers. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know.”
Sirius shifts his head, chin now resting against James’ chest so he can look up at him. He’s grinning, wide and beautiful, and James is quite sure Sirius is looking at him as fondly as James is looking at him. “I love you too. I’m in love with you.”
James is quite sure he’ll never tire of hearing that. And now he gets the chance not to. He can love Sirius openly, in the light and the dark and the time between.