James loves San Francisco. He moved to the city just over 3 months ago and he still pinches himself every time he leaves his apartment to walk through his picturesque neighborhood.
He’s staring at the new purpley bruise on his wrist (he literally pinches himself, he’s James Potter), smiling to himself in his headphones as he bops his head along to Fleetwood Mac when he hears the Muni 22 bus screech to a stop, doors folding open right in front of him.
James hops on with a warm “Hello!” directed towards the driver, finding a seat easily towards the middle of the bus. He checks his phone to confirm his stop, builds his song queue, and proceeds to engage in one of his favorite activities: people watching. And more specifically in this case: people watching on public transportation, which includes both the people on the bus and the people around the bus - he’s debated the distinction with friends before.
James likes to collect people, he’s a people-person who loves people. No wonder his favorite pastime is making people feel more like people aka ascribing characteristics and backstories to complete strangers purely based on their look.
Directly across from him on the bus is a young girl and her mother. The girl is in fuchsia pink rain boots matched with bright teal overalls, pigtails, and a necklace with a small elephant charm on it. He takes a moment to imagine the pair on their way to the zoo for the day. It’s a gorgeous 63-degree day and James thinks through kid-sized glasses that there’s nothing better than a visit with the elephants on a Saturday.
Filled with what can only be described as adolescent giddiness on behalf of this random public transportation patron, James shoots the girl one of his charming smiles - he’s been told they’re charming but does in fact also own a mirror and has come to the same conclusion himself. She responds with the deepest hitting side-eye he’s ever received.
He’s flabbergasted to say the least. Barely an ounce of joy for a kid on their way to the zoo.
James drops his gaze after that and refocuses on his own plan for the day: ice cream. The beauty of city living is having a craving and being able to satiate it in a timely manner. James woke up craving a fresh scoop on a waffle cone and is now in pursuit.
After gazing out of the window for a bit (he’s collected a marine biology student, a barista in training, and a future farmer so far) he starts to recognize the bus is getting noticeably fuller with each stop which is typical for early afternoon on a gorgeous Saturday.
He feels the bus lurch to a stop and takes a moment to check his maps app to see how many stops he has until he’s meant to get off. As he's about to change his app settings from drive to transit - he can never remember to change his damn default - he feels something jostle softly into his legs.
He lifts his head just over the top of his phone to see legs in black trousers directly in front of him, nearly squishing his own. His instinct is to immediately apologize, so he does.
“Oo sorry!” James says with a raised brow and a grimace.
James begins to look up to the person he’s apologizing to but is immediately met with the close proximity of an arm. It’s not just an arm though - an arm James can usually deal with, he finds a lot of things quite beautiful and noteworthy - this arm is something else.
Sharp inky black tattoos on olive skin invade his vision. His eyes dart from a dagger, to a constellation, to a stick n poke winky face which is curiously warm in tone compared to the rest of this person’s tattoo ensemble.
But oh.
Oh.
The one that really catches James’ eye is the one that moves and shifts as the arm tenses, wrapping delicately around the others as if to show off its unique beauty and demand every onlooker's full attention.
The tattoo is a snake coiled around the arch of the arm’s elbow with scales that glow and fade and just absolutely mesmerize James.
“Fuck me” James whispers without the will to stop it from leaving his lips.
This snaps James out of his tattoo reverie briefly as he belatedly realizes the arm is not its’ own being - he was already crafting its’ imaginary story in his head - but rather belongs to someone. Someone who James has now lifted his gaze to observe from his vantage point below.
The shift in view doesn’t result in a verbal “fuck me” but does illicit a small intake of breath that does not provide him nearly enough air. James imagines his lungs have taken an impromptu holiday - probably to somewhere tropical, pina coladas are definitely present.
Standing far too close to be considered appropriate is a man? A god? A beautiful, gorgeous, mesmerizing being. His black curls cascade over the sharpest jawline James has ever seen. Dark, thick brows arch above gray stormy eyes James immediately wants to drown in, but they’re not aimed his way.
The man in front of him is on the phone and therefore has not seemed to notice James’ blatant observation. His eyes are fixed towards the front of the bus as he multitasks to hold a conversation, pay attention to the upcoming stops, and stay upright by flexing his godforsaken arm on the yellow pole directly to James’ left.
James has the thought he wants the arm to flex around something else.
He nearly pouts but before he has a chance his own hazel eyes find this strangers lips and he’s lost to the world around him. The lips start to curl into a smile and James readies himself for what is sure to be a melodic laugh - to be clear he readies himself by continuing to sit and acknowledge his lungs’ OOO notice - when suddenly the mouth changes course, lips snapping into a thin line.
James furrows his eyebrow and frowns at the mouth, hands twitching to reach out and touch to bring the impending smile back. He doesn’t register the voice until there are black painted fingernails at the end of thin ring-laden fingers snapping in front of his face.
James blinks and meets the strangers now piercing gaze. The man raises a brow at him before saying, with an air of annoyance, “Can I help you?”
If he could melt or combust James thinks he would, right there on the plastic blue seat. His brain’s google cal did not indicate prior commitments today but plans seem to have changed.
Holy fuck James thinks. But apparently his mouth is working overtime today to compensate for his brain and lungs because the stranger reacts to what James thought was in his head.
The thing is though, the stranger’s annoyance has shifted into a look of amusement so James can’t be fussed with anxiety for even a moment. The man suppresses a smile with a knowing glint in his eyes.
“Oh I’m not religious, I gave up talking to the big man in the sky years back,” he responds.
James can only continue to stare, open-mouthed.
The stranger continues for the both of them, obviously recognizing James’ stare for the look of pure lust it is. James Potter has never been talented at hiding his emotions. (he does not resent this fact)
After the man’s eyes take their time raking down and back up his body, he smirks as he says “The fucking bit I do practice on a regular basis though.”
James chokes, maybe even dies. As he’s collecting his entire self, the man turns back to his phone and ends the call with a quick “Barty, I’ll have to call you back.”
The stranger’s gaze falls back to his own and James realizes all at once he’s done nothing but whisper two indecent words to this man. He immediately attempts to fix this by redirecting the conversation to what landed him in this predicament in the first place.
“I love your tattoos” James breathes out, truly all breath with barely any substance to his tone.
“Mm these?” The man releases the pole and stretches his arm further in front of James.
“Yes those” James gasps out, nothing but scales in his brain as he continues “The snake is incredible, the placement is so..”
He hums examining them himself as he says “My ex did that one actually, he’s very talented.”
All at once James finds himself closer to the ground, finding a better sense of his surroundings immediately as he abruptly makes it down from the dreamy storm cloud he found himself in before learning this perfectly beautiful stranger has a close? positive? relationship with his ex. He’s suddenly - very rationally - upset and can barely revel in the fact that the man used ‘he/him’ pronouns when describing his ex. He has to know more.
James scoffs before he can stop himself, eyes flashing up at the man in front of him. With perfect subtlety and the most tact, he clears his throat and redirects.
“A snake by a snake then? Isn’t that awkward to have his work permanently on your arm?” so by redirect he actually meant dig further and cause himself pain. James is multidimensional.
The stranger had been trying - and failing - to hold in a smirk that was doingthings to James. As his lips crawled up at the corners, James watched his eyes gain a glint of mischief. He was absolutely delectable.
“No, actually we’re quite close.” He gestured to his phone “That was him just now. We’ve been friends since we were kids, way before we were ever…intimate.”
James sucks in a breath. Oh he’s going to jump this man.
Presumably to torture James, he leans closer and continues. “You know far too much about me for a stranger on public transportation.”
James uses that breath for all its worth.
“James Fleamont Potter, 24, 6’0”, instructor at an art college. My favorite color is deep blue gray, I’m new to the city. I enjoy painting, thrifting, and being outside in my free time. I am deeply gay but my ex is not in fact a cool, hot tattoo artist that I still keep in touch with. I was in the middle of crafting backstories for all of the people on this bus,” James leans in closer, conspiratorially, “there’s a girl right behind you with a wicked side eye on the way to the zoo - before my healthy imagination was interrupted by a certain tattooed arm entering my bus space.”
The man is staring at him now. James can’t help but feel a bit of a rush at the shift in who is driving their conversation.
“Your bus space” The stranger murmurs, sounding quite dazed.
James continues on with nefarious intentions. “And for the record, I don’t know nearly enough and I doubt I’d ever tire of hearing more.”
The stranger’s eyes are twinkling as he seems to suck in a breath. James feels like he supplied the air directly from his lungs. As the man gazes down at him and parts his lips to respond, their little bubble is popped by an automated voice from the front of the bus: “Fillmore & Hayes”
The man’s eyes snap away from him and he’s moving before James can even process those words.
“Shit” he hears the man whisper as he’s running to the now open back doors. Right before he jumps off he looks back at James and smiles. A soft little thing that reaches his eyes. His face crinkles and glows with direct sunlight now highlighting his god-like features. And if his earlier proximity wasn’t enough, that looks decides James’ next move for him.
The man is off the bus before James can get to his feet. As he finally gets a meeting to go through on his brain’s google cal, the doors close and the bus is moving again.
James jumps up with such a rush, he hears the girl on the way to the zoo scream in high-pitched surprise. He moves as fast as he can to the back doors and loudly calls to the driver “BACK DOOR PLEASE! I NEED TO GET OFF RIGHT THIS SECOND”
James expects a “Next stop kid!” but gets a hard brake and an open door. James shoots his most charming grin at the driver and leaves the bus with a “YOU DESERVE THE WORLD - HERE’S TO PURSUING LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT! CHEERS!”
He doesn’t look as he leaves but he imagines the girl who loves visiting elephants at the zoo has traded her side eye for a big smile. (He won’t be critically thinking about that thought, it’s too lovely)
James is incredibly alert and running on pure adrenaline as he assesses his surroundings. He catches a glimpse of the stranger turning a corner and heading downhill.
As he catches up to him, he hears him muttering to himself with both of his hands in those lovely black curls. James wants to replace those hands with his own. Oh he could get lost in there so quickly.
“Stupid. Fucking. Idiot. Why the fuck would you say that to someone?? WHO says that shit to a stranger?” He hears him say. “God but he was so…fuck ”intimate”, really Regulus?”
James can’t help but soften as he takes in this version of the bus stranger. While the man on the bus was so effortlessly confident, the man in front of him is less bold and more unsure.
“So it’s Regulus then?” James announces his presence, winded and with a sly smile.
The man stops dead in his tracks and slowly turns around to face him.
“I never did catch it you see, too busy spewing my life story at you and watching you get up and leave without a word in response.” James finishes, not even attempting to tame the gigantic smile on his face.
The now familiar stranger he’s just gotten off of his bus for abruptly turns back around and continues briskly walking down the hill. James follows. He’s always appreciated the chase.
“I’ll take that as confirmation, Regulus.” A pause. “So formal, maybe I’ll go with Reg instead.”
The man throws a glare over his shoulder.
“Okay not that one, Reggie then?”
After no response and about a quarter of a block downhill later, James continues.
“Maybe shortening Regulus is too personal. I’m grasping for anything here, love.”
And suddenly James is met with those stormy grays again. The stranger’s hand comes up to his chest to push James to a stop.
He scoffs and says with an intentional harshness that's trying to mask clear curiosity, “Are you following me?”
James’ confidence splutters, “Oh gosh yeah - no, I mean NO god no! Fuck? I am not following you pssht absolutely not at all a possibility, why would you say that? Ha!.”
James’ eyes are wide and Regulus levels him with a look as he continues on his path. He must also be on a mission.
He’s brought to another abrupt stop as Regulus spins around, again, but this time James doesn’t waste his chance.
“Listen, I- I spend a lot of my time on public transportation being completely intentionally ignorant to people’s real stories. I make shit up about who they are, what they’re doing, and where they’re going, and I thought that was enough. I thought that was enough until I got on the bus today and was met with an arm full of upsettingly hot tattoos that ended up being attached to a witty man with a god-like face and eyes I could live in forever. I thought that was enough until I found someone I couldn’t give a backstory to because all I could cope with was knowing the real one. I want to know you Regulus.
“I left the house for ice cream for fuck’s sake, not a man with an affinity for running away who has me yelling at a perfectly lovely bus driver to let me off the bus so I can jump off and run after him.
“Let me know you. Won’t you know me?”
After a pause, Regulus closes his open mouth only to reopen it and whisper “Ice cream?”
Only then does James let his senses take in his surroundings. There are people weaving around them on the sidewalk and walking into a store to his left. He registers the smell of waffle cones and sees a woman walk by with a red cup of ice cream. On the cup, he can make out the letters “Stra-“ indicating part of the name of the store.
James’ eyes widen as he confirms “Ice cream…I'm on my way to get ice cream at a place called Salt & Straw.”
James looks to his left to fully look at the store. He is struck speechless for the third or fourth time that day as he reads the words “Salt & Straw” on the large sign at the top of the store entrance.
A smile sneaks onto Regulus’ face and he laughs, a bright beautiful sound James wants to immediately hear again. Instead, the man in front of him speaks.
“Regulus Arcturus Black, 23, 5’11”, Salt & Straw employee. My favorite color is a sort of bright golden brown, I’m a Bay Area native. I enjoy reading, skating, and writing in my free time. I am deeply gay, my ex is in fact a cool, hot tattoo artist that I still keep in touch with but who also doesn’t stand a chance against the handsome, charming stranger I just met on the bus.” He steps closer until their chests are barely inches apart.
“I was in the middle of my commute to work,” Regulus grabs the strap of James’ cross-body bag to pull him even closer. “When a man swore at me and entered my bus space.”
James swallows and he watches Regulus track the movement with his eyes. “Lovely to meet you Regulus Black.” He smiles down at the man in front of him. “Don’t suppose you’re a handshake type of bloke then?”
Regulus closes the distance between their bodies and James gets to formally meet that mouth from earlier, greeting the tattooed arm now cradled against his chest with a little hello. (a hello translated as a gasp into this hot man’s mouth)
Before James can fully process what is happening, the man is walking away - again - and this time he doesn’t turn around.
James feels stuck. Does he follow him into his place of work? Does he walk away from this man who has thoroughly rocked his shit to the point of having this internal conversation in the middle of a public sidewalk? What was he doing?
He was getting ice cream.
The line stretched outside of the store so James hopped in, grateful for the additional time to pull himself together.
James is going through the motions - walking along in the queue that had gotten him inside at this point, staring at the menu, suddenly being unable to recall what flavor combinations he even liked - when a sultry voice paired with stormy gray eyes across the counter interrupts his train of thought and says “Can I help you?”
That voice, those eyes, that smile.
And James thinks to himself: yeah actually, he can.