Regulus Black never saw himself as someone who was meant to be loved.
He sat across from his brother in a shit little cafe, drinking piss-poor-quality black coffee and watching Sirius wave his hands around like a man possessed as he worked his way through a story involving his boyfriend, his best friend, and his recently acquired godson.
Sirius was the sun. He always had been. He escaped the rotting clutches of Walburga Black long before Regulus even realized there was something wrong about their house. Sirius was radiant, angry and beautiful, growing his hair and screaming protests in their mothers face for as long as Regulus could remember, taking every beating with proud shoulders and a straight back, keeping Regulus sheltered for as long as he could until he escaped. He had found people who loved him. He deserved that love, Sirius did. His gentle hands despite the madness in his blood, his inability to be anything other than his ridiculous, ethereal self, loud and unapologetic in his existence. Regulus was nothing like him.
Regulus was all Black blood and cold heart, not escaping their mothers deadly grip until she had died. He wasn’t brave, he never had been.
“You have to come meet them sometime, Reggie, they’ll just adore you!” The delivery was casual, but Regulus knew Sirius well, better than he ever knew himself. There was a calculating glint in those black-ringed eyes, a tilt of the head that betrayed exactly how closely Sirius was watching Regulus’ reaction.
“Best not,” Regulus said calmly, not allowing the features of his face to give anything away. “I’m busy these days.”
Sirius’ face twisted in irritation, all sharp angles and pale skin. He looked like their mother. They both did, Sirius just wore it better. Regulus had always just looked like a washed-out copy. “Reggie, we have coffee or lunch twice a week. You’re not all that busy.”
Regulus took a long, pointed sip of his coffee, knowing that Sirius could damn well see every tensed muscle in his hand and throat. They had always been a little codependent. “Maybe I don’t want to meet your friends.”
“I’ve known them since school,” Sirius pushed. “I’ve been dating Remus for seven damn years, and Harry has been alive for three. You haven’t met any of them. I’m pretty sure Jamie thinks I made you up as a trauma delusion.”
“Right.” Regulus knew his face was twisted into something ugly. Something Black. “James Potter.”
Sirius paused. “Is this still about me leaving?”
“No.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Sirius leaned over the table, scowling like a demon. He really did look like their mother now. Regulus was pretty sure he was the only person who got to see Sirius like this, in all his temperamental and mad glory: he felt a sick sort of pride about it. Sirius’ friends didn’t get to see this particular side, but Regulus got to share it. They were insane together. “You can’t just go about hating James forever because he helped me escape.”
“You called him your real brother when he left me behind,” Regulus said. His tone was casual, cold. Black. “I’m allowed to hold a grudge.”
Guilt creased Sirius’ face. “I’ve apologized for that.”
“I’ve forgiven you.”
“I really doubt that.”
“You’d be right to.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Sirius sat back in his chair, twirling a spoon in his own coffee like he didn’t drink it as plain as Regulus did. Regulus stared at the table, wondering if it had been long enough for him to semi-politely take his leave. He doubted it, but maybe his brother would feel charitable and let him escape.
Sirius spoke.
“We’re doing dinner at Jamie’s,” he said, forced casual in a way he had never been able to pull off before. He still couldn’t. “Not tonight, Friday. I know you don’t work.”
“I have plans.”
“To do what?”
Drink himself into a coma, Regulus thought. But he couldn’t say that. Sirius would get fussy. “Things.”
“Right,” Sirius said slowly with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Just come. Please? I’ll pick you up and everything so you don’t have to drive.” Regulus hated driving. “We’ll leave whenever you want, I’m asking for an hour. A free meal, if nothing else.”
Regulus kept staring at the table. There was a spot where someone had dug a butter knife in, a pattern that inexplicably looked like a constellation. How ironic. “Just an hour,” he said softly. “And you promise you won’t fuss if I make you leave after an hour? No guilt tripping to stay longer?”
Sirius’ eyes were wide and earnest, and Regulus felt like a little kid again, like Sirius was going to try and convince him I’m fine, don’t worry, it’ll stop bleeding soon just like he used to. “Just an hour,” he promised.
Damn him. “Fine,” Regulus said. “But I’m not going to promise to behave myself.”
Sirius beamed, like the fucking sun, and Regulus winced. “I expect nothing else.”
Sirius picked him up mid-afternoon.
“You said dinner,” Regulus grumbled, swinging a leg over the back of Sirius’ motorcycle and taking the helmet he was offered. His hair was gonna look awful. “It’s far too early.”
“We’re gonna help cook!” Sirius said cheerfully.
Regulus went to protest, but Sirius was quick to turn on the engine and drown him out, making sure Regulus’ grip was secured before pulling away from his apartment building with flourish typical of the two of them.
The ride was quick – Sirius was many things, but a safe driver was not one of them – and it was all too soon before they were pulling up in front of a sweet-looking little cottage that had a wild, flourishing garden surrounding the walkway. It was ridiculously untamed. Regulus found himself smiling at it.
Sirius parked the bike and slid off, taking off his helmet and whipping back his too-long hair. Bastard looked like a model. Regulus followed his lead, smoothing his own errant curls to the best of his ability. “You ready?” Sirius asked.
“I want to go home.”
“That’s the spirit!” Sirius grabbed Regulus’ elbow to ensure he didn’t run, all-but dragging him to the front door and bursting inside with a loud announcement of, “I’m here my beloved!”
A dark-skinned man appeared in the kitchen doorway, whooping loudly and moving forward to press kisses to Sirius’ face. He pulled back to beam at Regulus, and Regulus felt his breath catch in his chest.
The man was beautiful. He shone brightly in the warm lamplight, even brighter than Sirius, with twinkling eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses and wild, soft-looking hair that Regulus wanted to bury his hands in. Without his permission, Regulus found himself staring at the slant of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the shine of his –
“Reggie!”
Fuck. “What?” Regulus snapped back to reality to the sounds of the beautiful man laughing kindly, and Sirius staring at him like he’d grown a second head.
“Lost you for a minute there, mate,” the man said, sticking out his hand with a boyish motion. “You have got to be Regulus, I’m James, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!”
“Right,” Regulus said, taking the offered hand and feeling the useless pit in his chest crash and burn. This was James Potter. This was his replacement in Sirius’ life. “Pleasure.”
If James sensed a shift in mood, he didn’t comment, instead turning and jabbing Sirius firmly in the chest. “Shame on you, keeping this poor love away from us for so long. Selfish twit.”
“I tried!” Sirius whined. “He’s so stubborn, I don’t know where he got it from!”
James stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t, do you?” he said after a moment, rolling his eyes at Regulus companionably. Regulus stifled a snort. “Well, go ahead and make yourself useful – go get Moons out of my bleeding closet, he’s stealing my sweaters again.”
Sirius cackled, bounding up the stairs like an excited puppy, and James shook his head. “Doesn’t know where you got it from, my arse,” he muttered, before focusing his overwhelming attention on Regulus once more. “Moons is Remus, I don’t know if Sirius has explained our little nicknames to you.”
“Very vaguely,” Regulus murmured, and James laughed.
“Sounds about right,” he said. He tilted his head slightly, and Regulus suddenly was filled with the insane feeling that he was put under a microscope to be studied. “You two are funny, you know.”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry, no harm by it,” James said, raising his hands in easy surrender. “It’s just, you have the exact same face. You’re carbon copies. Yet, you can tell in a glance that you two are entirely different people, just in the way you hold yourself. Does that make sense?”
“We are different people,” Regulus said coldly, and James’ grin widened.
“Well of course,” he said. “You already seem much more sensible. Would you believe I had to keep Sirius from taking free coke from some random bloke in a club when we were twenty?”
Regulus blinked, unable to keep his icy expression in place, when Sirius came running back down the stairs clutching the hand of a ridiculously lanky man with tawny-gold hair and a scar slashing across his face.
“Reggie!” he sang happily, practically bouncing in place. No, actually, he was bouncing in place. “This is my lovely Remus! Remus, this is my baby brother Regulus.”
“Grew up with you and he still looks sane, I’m impressed,” Remus commented, offering Regulus a wry smirk. “Hello. Do you have the brains in the family, or should I be worried I have double babysitting duty?”
Regulus felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He quite liked this one already. “I got the brains,” he sighed. “Sirius got charisma and mental illness.”
“I should have anticipated this,” Sirius said under his breath, before unleashing truly horrendous puppy-dog-eyes unto James. “Jamie, they’re teaming up against me!”
“You poor sod,” James hummed. “Let’s go cook, shall we? I know you like cutting things.”
“You treat me better than any other man ever could,” Sirius said.
“They’re always like this,” Remus said in response to Regulus’ raised eyebrows. “I was honestly surprised he was in love with me and not James, in the end.”
“I can see why,” Regulus murmured back, and Remus snorted.
“Enough gossip, ladies!” James said, clapping his hands together, not unlike a preschool teacher. “I’m off to wake the beast from his nap, you lot go to the kitchen. Remus, you know where your place is.”
“Sitting down and not touching anything,” Remus droned in response.
Sirius grinned brightly at Regulus. “Moons can’t cook for shit,” he gossiped as James turned and headed up the stairs. “He once set pasta on fire because he forgot to put water in the pot. That was Jamie’s last straw.”
“One time!” Remus protested. “How was I supposed to know?”
“That strikes me as common knowledge,” Regulus said hesitantly.
“Et tu, brute?”
Somehow, the three of them made their way into the kitchen, which was painted a cheerful yellow and had several signs with different versions of ‘Kiss The Cook’ hanging over every surface. There was a shelf entirely dedicated to mismatched novelty mugs. Sirius seemed right at home, finding a cutting board and knife immediately and starting to rummage through the fridge entirely of his own volition.
Regulus didn’t even know Sirius knew how to cook.
Remus had sat himself sprawlingly at the kitchen table, his long legs taking up the span of the underside, and was scrolling through his phone. Regulus moved to sit with him, but was quickly stopped by Sirius aiming a knife at him.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Sitting,” Regulus said drily. “Is that a crime now?”
“You’re helping me cook,” Sirius said. The knife didn’t waver, and he smiled. “Chop chop, Reggie. I know you used to help the cooks in the kitchen all the time.”
Regulus felt his face burn. “How the hell did you find that out?”
“You always used far too much salt when you were little, I put two and two together,” Sirius said airily, gesturing vaguely with the hand holding the knife. “It always coincided with when I was starting shit.”
“Please don’t put your brother's eye out,” Remus called from the table.
“Forgive me if your bitch fights with Mother were a stressful time,” Regulus sniffed.
Sirius paused, then put the knife down. “I’m sure,” he said. It wasn’t really an apology, but then again, Regulus knew better than to expect one. It wasn’t in their blood.
Instead of replying, Regulus picked up the knife and a large tomato Sirius had put on the counter. “Diced or sliced?”
“Diced,” Sirius said, starting to pull various small glass containers out of a spice rack. “It’s curry night, Jamie has the best curry recipe, you’ll just die.”
Regulus, against his will, felt himself perk up in interest. “Spicy or sweet?”
Sirius grinned at him, crooked and sharp, the grin that used to always land them both in trouble as stupid kids. “Deadly spicy.”
Remus groaned, letting his phone hit the dark grain of the table with a loud thud. “Christ, you freaks,” he said. “Can’t we have sweet just this once? Some of us aren’t built for spice!”
“Poor little white man,” Sirius cooed.
Before Remus could retort (something sure to be scathing, based on his contemplative look), James came back down the stairs holding a small child with his same messy hair and a onesie decorated in little flames. His hold on the child was easy and confident despite its wiggling, and the brilliantly content look on his face made Regulus’ heart feel like it was swelling rapidly enough to require an ambulance. Terribly inconvenient, this.
“He’s here!” James announced, and the child looked up with a sleepy, vague expression that betrayed its recent nap. As soon as it saw Sirius, it made an impatient noise, wiggling harder in James’ grip.
“Give me my boy,” Sirius demanded, making grabby hands until the child was transferred to him. Both calmed immediately, and Sirius started jabbering away nonsensically without missing a beat.
James shook his head. “My own son, and he likes Sirius better than me,” he complained, winking at Regulus to show his jest. He raised his voice. “Siri, love, if you’re gonna kidnap him, you gotta do introductions.”
“Oh right!” Sirius said, shifting the child until it was balanced on his hip. “Harry, sweetheart, this is my brother Regulus. Regulus, this is my godson Harry!”
Right.
Regulus peered at Harry, who was eyeing him back with a similar reserve. “Hello,” he said politely. He didn’t quite know how to act around children – he never had the opportunity to learn. How did Sirius make it look so easy?
“Hi,” Harry mumbled. He had brilliantly green eyes, unlike James’ warm hazel, but otherwise seemed to be an exact miniaturized version of his father. He screwed up his little face. “Rega- reguh-” he stuttered, and Regulus coughed.
“You can just use Reg, if you’d like,” he said. He was sure he sounded stilted and awkward, but it was less painful to just shorten the name.
Harry paused, then nodded. “Reg,” he said. “‘M Harry.”
“So I’ve heard. Pleasure to meet you.”
“You’re such a proper twit,” Sirius said fondly. “He’s three, you don’t have to treat him like royalty.”
“Sometimes, I wonder how we were raised in the same house,” Regulus hissed.
“Enough bickering, children,” James announced, backed by Remus’ quiet snickering from across the kitchen. “What have we gotten done?”
“I pulled everything out, and Reggie was supposed to dice the tomato, but we got distracted.” Sirius placed Harry delicately on the counter so that he could throw his hair into a messy bun, keeping inky strands out of his way. Regulus scowled at his own curly bands hanging in his eyes – they weren’t long enough to tie back.
James smiled again. He seemed to do that often, and it seemed to be truly awful for Regulus’ health. “You’re helping?”
“Sirius pointed a knife at me,” Regulus responded.
James laughed, before trailing off as no one joined in. “Ah,” he said. “Not kidding. Sirius, we’ve talked about this.”
“That’s how everything got done in our house!” Sirius said innocently. “By threat of physical violence!”
“Jesus,” Remus muttered.
James sighed. “If your mother weren’t already dead, I’d kill her myself,” he muttered. He procured an apron from a nearby cupboard, tying it around his waist. “Please no violence in front of Harry, at least.”
“Violence!” Harry crowed, raising a chubby fist.
“Hell yeah!” Sirius cheered, laughing as James sighed.
Remus folded his hands delicately. “Funny,” he said. “You chose to make our resident crazy person your son's godfather, and he teaches him violence. Who would have suspected that?”
“You got into far more fights than I did, gorgeous,” Sirius said cheerily.
“If anyone teaches my son to get into fistfights, I’m gonna start and finish the next one,” James threatened. “Harry, love, no violence. This is a violence free household.”
Harry blinked. “Why?”
James stared. “What?”
“Why?”
“Oh god,” James groaned.
“Reg?”
Regulus blinked at the little voice addressing him, looking to Harry, who was kicking his feet wildly in the air. “Er, yes?”
“Do you know why no violence?”
James shot him a significant look that Regulus had no hope of interpreting. “Um,” he started. “Because violent people go to prison?”
“Oh,” Harry said, nodding. A beat passed. “What’s prison?”
“Bad place,” Sirius swooped in, pinching Harry’s cheeks. Regulus was suddenly and violently reminded of Sirius’ brief stint in prison a few years ago. “Everyone is so mean and boring all the time, and there are no sweets or toys!”
Harry looked appropriately horrified. “No sweets or toys?” he asked, batting Sirius’s hands away from his round little face. “Why?”
“Because it’s a super long time-out,” Sirius said mock-seriously. “So no violence, or else that happens.”
“No violence,” Harry said sadly, and James sighed.
“No one ever warned me that so much of fatherhood would be keeping my toddler from committing war crimes,” he said, throwing his hands up dramatically.
“He truly is your son,” Remus said.
Regulus quickly started dicing the tomato after that, trying to tune out Sirius’ relentless distribution of affection onto the toddler two feet away. He felt something brush his arm, jumping as he realized just how close James Potter had gotten to him.
“Sorry,” James whispered, still with that damn smile. “I’m trying not to get food on Harry, it’s a pain to wash him down.”
“You’re quite alright,” Regulus said stiffly.
James hummed, and allowed a few blessed moments of silence before speaking again. “Sirius was just as bad as you when I first had Harry, you know.”
Regulus side-eyed him, then Sirius, who was now nodding seriously as Harry recounted the events of what sounded like a cartoon. James laughed.
“I’m serious,” he said. “He refused to hold him for two months because he was convinced he’d drop him. It took even longer to convince him that he’d be a good godfather, and not like your mother.” He paused, sensing he may have overstepped. “Point is, if you choose to keep coming around, you’ll get more comfortable. He’s a real easy kid anyway, doesn’t fuss much. Chatty as anything though.”
“And apparently, with a penchant for violence. I can work with that,” Regulus said, and James shook with barely suppressed laughter, a hand darting out to squeeze warmly at Regulus’ wrist. His skin tingled at the contact. Like hives.
“I feel like I should worry about just how many bad influences I bring into my son's life,” he lamented. “I’m raising a serial killer.”
“Violence!” Harry yelled again.
“Sirius!”
“I’m not teaching him that!” Sirius protested.
The rest of dinner preparation went smoothly – Sirius and Remus, after a few moments, took Harry out to the living room to play some game that involved way too much hysterical screaming from both Harry and Sirius, leaving Regulus and James alone in the kitchen. It was quiet, but in an oddly companionable way that Regulus wasn’t quite sure what to do with.
“I have a question,” James said, breaking the silence.
Regulus waited, before sighing. “Go on then.”
James was quiet for a moment, like he was trying to find the best words. “Oh, piss it,” he muttered. “Sirius said you hate me. Well, resent me. For the way everything happened.”
“I do. I did,” Regulus amended.
James stopped his flurry of motions. Regulus got the feeling he wasn’t still often. “What changed?”
I met you, Regulus didn’t say. You’re frustratingly beautiful in a way that I can’t describe and can’t hate, he also didn’t say. “Dunno,” he did say. “I suppose I grew up.”
James was still watching him instead of cooking, his face oddly solemn and contemplative. “I wouldn’t blame you,” he said. “I took him from you. He was your brother, your protection. He called me his brother instead of you. It makes sense to hate me.”
“Are you apologizing?”
“God no.”
That was enough for Regulus to pause, and finally, he met James’ eyes. He was smiling again, but it was melancholy.
“I’d do it again,” James said firmly. “Over and over, I’d do the same damn thing. I wasn’t going to let my best friend die in that house.”
Regulus watched him back, carefully. “Good,” he said. He didn’t recognize his voice. “She almost did kill him that night. She would’ve if he didn’t escape.”
James’ face twisted like he had been stabbed, and he sighed. “I know,” he said. “Sirius is under the impression that maybe she wouldn’t have, but I think deep down, he knows he got lucky.”
Regulus broke eye contact, staring down at the knife still clutched in his hands. He remembered that night. Remembered Sirius’ screams, the blood staining the carpet, the crack of fingers breaking one by one. He remembered Walburga’s dead silence, and how she came into his room late that night to tell him his brother was gone.
He had thought she killed him until he saw Sirius in the street, a month later. He had mourned. He would never tell Sirius that.
“I’m glad he got out,” Regulus said in that voice that still wasn’t his. “I don’t tell him that, and I won’t. But I’m glad. He was always braver than me. He deserved to escape.”
Suddenly Regulus found himself being gripped by the chin, his face being turned to see James once more, who looked horrified and concerned as one. “You don’t think you did?”
“That’s not your business,” Regulus said. He didn’t pull away.
“I should’ve somehow taken you too,” James said. “You deserved to get out just as much as he did. He nearly killed himself trying to figure out how to get to you.”
“I’ve always been more like Mother than Sirius. I chose to stay,” Regulus said. He recognized his voice now – ice cold, running like Black blood in his veins. “If you had tried to take me, I would’ve killed you myself.”
“I don’t believe you,” James whispered, and Regulus’ breath hitched. Finally, he pulled away.
“It’s too late, regardless,” he said. “We all made our choices, and here we are.”
James was still watching him. “Here we are,” he said.
The silence that followed was no longer pleasant. It was suffocating, like a thick, wet blanket forced over Regulus’ mouth and nose.
Sirius burst in a moment later, holding Harry aloft like Simba. “Guess what!” he cried.
“I killed Moony!” Harry bragged.
“I’m not dead!” Remus called from the other room.
“Sirius,” Regulus said, and Sirius turned to him, lowering Harry with a concerned expression as he took in the tight line of Regulus’ shoulders, the minute tremor of his hands. “It’s been over an hour.”
Sirius blinked, looking from Regulus to James. “What happened in here?” he asked, placing Harry on the floor and hitting James with a dark look.
James winced. “We were talking,” he said carefully.
“It’s been over an hour. I want to leave,” Regulus said firmly.
Sirius nodded, not missing a beat. “Yeah, alright.” He patted Harry, then sent James another hard stare. “I’m dropping off Reggie, then I’ll be back.”
“That’s fair,” James muttered, looking guilty. “Regulus, I’m sorry.”
“That’s nice,” Regulus said. He didn’t look back at James as Sirius led him past a confused-looking Remus and out the front door.
He didn’t want to see that sunshine-smile gone again.
Sirius didn’t pull away from the curb immediately when he dropped Regulus off. “What did the git say?”
“I’m not trying to start a fight between you two.”
“You’re not, I’m starting it myself. What did he say?”
Regulus sighed. “He asked about me hating him. For everything. We talked, he pushed, I didn’t want to answer. I don’t need him to fuss over me, I’m an adult.”
Sirius winced. “He’s always been a mother hen,” he said softly. “I used to try to take his head off for it, back when we were kids and I didn’t know that I was allowed to be cared for. He probably sees that in you.”
“I’m nothing like you,” Regulus bit out.
Sirius smiled sadly at him. “Au contraire, little brother,” he said. “You’re all too much like me.” He flipped his visor down. “Get some sleep. Stay away from the wine.”
“Whatever,” Regulus said. He turned and started to walk away, but then paused, speaking quickly before Sirius could turn his bike back on. “We’ll never be normal brothers, will we?”
Sirius didn’t answer. Regulus pushed on.
“You’ll always feel the need to hover. I’ll always feel the need to resent you. We’ll never learn how to truly say sorry, or express affection. We’re products of being Blacks and we always will be. Doesn’t it make you sick? Doesn’t it make you angry?” He didn’t turn, but he could hear the sound of Sirius taking off his helmet and getting off the motorcycle.
“I spent too much time being angry, Reg,” Sirius said, more serious than Regulus had heard him in years. “Yes, I fucking hate what that bitch did to us, to both of us. I hate that we have to put in so much more effort just to be near each other. But I’m also so damn tired of being angry all the time. Aren’t you?”
“I’m pretty sure anger is all I have left,” Regulus whispered.
Then Sirius was in front of him, hugging him, and Regulus was five years old again, crying in the dark over a mother that would never truly love either of them, crying because his big brother was hurt and he was nauseous and didn’t understand why, crying because this was all he was destined for.
But he wasn’t five. He was twenty-two, and the world didn’t have room for children with no backbone. The world was cruel and unfair, no matter how hard his older brother hugged him and promised he’d take care of him.
Regulus tried to pull back, but Sirius held tight until he relaxed into the grip once more. “I promise you,” he whispered fiercely. “I’m never going to leave you behind again.”
Regulus didn’t bother mentioning that Sirius had broken plenty of promises before. They both already knew it.
“Therapy,” Sirius said, speaking the words into Regulus’ hair. “We ought to go to therapy.”
“We aren’t a bickering married couple,” Regulus argued, but Sirius just squeezed him harder.
“Don’t care. We’re going anyway. I’ll pay for it.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Sirius pulled away, finally. Regulus didn’t mention that that was possibly the first time he allowed someone to touch him since childhood, and even then, it was still only ever Sirius. He was sure Sirius knew that too.
Sirius smiled at him, gently touching his face. “I’ll text you,” he said. “Let you know when I find someone.”
“I’m sure you will,” Regulus said. They both politely ignored how thick his voice was.
“Goodnight, Reggie.”
“Goodnight, Sirius.”
Regulus stood on his lawn for a long time, first watching his brother disappear into the night, then watching the constellations come out. Sirius was the brightest star in the sky. Regulus was part of Leo, symbolizing bravery and boldness.
He had always found a sick sort of irony in that.
Regulus woke up the next day to a text from an unknown number.
Hey, it’s James, I got your number out of Sirius’ phone when he wasn’t paying attention. I just wanted to apologize again – I way overstepped, I should know better by now. I just worry, you know? Habit of mine. You don’t have to forgive me, but let me buy you lunch or something. Next Tuesday, maybe? Let me know. No pressure if you hate me again. I won’t blame you. :)
Damn him.
For the first time in his life, Regulus found himself unable to hold a grudge.
Before he could convince himself not to, he texted back.
I’ll allow it. You’ll have to pick me up, I don’t drive.
James responded within the minute.
Perfect!! I’ll see you then!!
Regulus put his pillow over his face and screamed until he could taste blood.
Next Tuesday came far, far too fast.
James was outside at a prompt 12:30, leaving Regulus to scramble to find a half-decent shirt to button up over his chest as he ran out the door, before forcing himself to walk more calmly so that James wouldn’t know he was feeling frantic.
“Hey!” James greeted as Regulus swung into his passenger seat. The car was cleaner than he would expect from a single parent. “I’m really glad you came.”
“I’m still mulling over my exact feelings,” Regulus said coldly.
James laughed, starting the car and humming along to the radio the whole drive, evidently not feeling the need to force conversation. He was terribly off key. Regulus hated how endearing it was.
They pulled up outside of a nice Thai place.
James grinned cheekily at him.
“You think you’re cute, don’t you?” Regulus asked.
“Sirius hates this place, says none of it is genuine Thai food,” James said gleefully. “I doubt you’ll like it either, but can you imagine his face if you said you did?”
Regulus raised his eyebrows. “Evil,” he said approvingly. “I can respect that. Fine, let’s see how insufferable it truly is.”
It really did end up being terrible. But the company was good, and James seemed determined to keep his word and cover the cost, so Regulus went along with it.
They talked more than Regulus was used to talking with another human being. About Harry, about Regulus’ affinity for trashy romance novels, about James’ decade old collection of Adam Sandler movies. Somehow, Sirius never came up. Regulus couldn’t decide if he was relieved or not.
“So what do you do these days?” James asked. “I don’t believe Sirius ever mentioned you working, but I remember him going on and on about your graduation.”
Regulus snorted. Of course he did. “He’s right that I’m done with uni,” he said. “I’m currently finishing up applications for another academic program. A doctorate in pre-seventeenth century literature, Chaucer and the like.” He felt his face flushing as he explained – his mother had been very clear on what she thought of that particular degree.
James, however, looked amazed. “So you’re like, properly clever,” he marveled. “Chaucer is nonsensical, you couldn’t pay me enough to read it again, much less understand it. That’s amazing.”
“It’s not that special,” Regulus said, waving a hand absently. “What do you do?”
“Biomechanical engineering, prosthetics and stuff.” He beamed. “I designed Moony’s leg.”
Regulus blinked. James was doing something as amazing as that, and he thought Chaucer was impressive? “Sirius never told me Remus had a fake leg.”
“Probably because we’re all just used to it by now,” James shrugged. “Dunno really.”
“Interesting,” Regulus said, shoveling more of his truly awful Yam Nua in his mouth to keep from saying anything else stupid.
“You should talk to Remus about books,” James continued. “He has no reading buddies right now, he’s sick to death of me mocking him with movie adaptations.”
“You really are evil,” Regulus said in horror.
James cackled. “Fear me, bookworms everywhere!”
“I have to leave immediately. This is my last straw.”
“Unfortunately, I’m still your ride.”
“A tragedy of epic proportions,” Regulus groaned.
James’ cackle turned back to his normal easy laugh, and then he was back to watching Regulus with an odd, soft look.
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Staring at me.”
“Am I doing that?”
“Yes. You do it often. It’s unsettling.”
“Sorry,” James grinned. “You’re awfully pretty, and interesting. I want to figure you out.”
Regulus froze. “Pretty?”
“Pretty,” James nodded.
Regulus took a long sip of water. “I look exactly like Sirius, but lesser,” he said. “Perhaps you are in love with him.”
“Nah,” James said. “You’re pretty in a much different sense. You’re much more…genuine.”
“Genuine?”
“Yeah. Understated.”
“You don’t know me at all. How can you call me genuine?”
“I feel like I do. I’d quite like to.”
“I doubt Sirius would like that.”
“If anything, he’d sooner trust me than anyone else with you. But this isn’t about him.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Despite what he says, not everything is.”
Regulus blinked. It was odd, hearing that. Most things tended to be about Sirius. He was older, brighter, more beautiful. That was just the way things were between them. “Interesting theory.”
James tilted his head. “So you think I’m interesting too?”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
As soon as he said it, Regulus wanted to slap a hand over his own mouth, or maybe go off and kill himself in the bathroom. That seemed like a good plan.
But James was smiling wider still. “Beautiful?”
“Like the sun,” Regulus forced out. “Like a god.”
James reached out, grabbing Regulus’ hand in his own larger one. “I’d like to do this again. Say we can.”
“I’m not someone you can save, James.”
“I’m not trying to save you, but I’d quite like to watch you save yourself.”
Regulus paused. “Sirius and I are starting therapy,” he said.
“That’s brilliant,” James said. He squeezed his hand. “That seems very smart.”
“He had to bully me into it.”
“Baby steps are still steps.”
“I’m difficult. I’m mean, and I’m withdrawn, and I don’t understand affection. I’ll hurt you.”
“I’m resilient. Remarkably stubborn, really. And I was recently compared to a god.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Let me take you out again.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“Then let’s do it together.”
“Fine. Yes. I’d like that.”
“You would?”
“Yes, damn it, I would.”
James really was so beautiful, the lights bouncing off his dark skin like he was glowing from the inside out, looking at Regulus like no one ever had, like he mattered, like he was the only thing that mattered. “Thank you,” he whispered. Reverent.
“Make it worth my while.” Don’t make me regret this. Regret you.
James lifted Regulus’ hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to pale knuckles. “I will,” he said.
Somehow, Regulus heard I’ll take care of you.
Somehow, even odder still, he believed it.