I Got Drunk and Made Fun of the Way You Talk
James pulls out his laptop as Ms Williamsburg reiterates the instructions. Read the booklet, identify problems, and converse with your group. Easy enough, right? Well, his group still only consisted of Regulus, but that was ok. Regulus was smart and quite good, so he didn't mind. Really, he didn't.
"How was your gig last night?" Regulus asks.
"Oh, um, same as usual. You know, you should come to one of them. It is your brother's band, after all. And we're friends, ay?"
"Yeah, I should. When's your next?"
"Not sure...I'll check with the guys. We should hang out as a group more often," James says. See, it seems like a casual thing to say, but James has been preparing that perfectly crafted sentence for three days. He had to make it sound like the way he usually talks, but also prompt the idea of a friendship in a non-threatening way, but at the same time it had to be slipped into conversation nicely.
"That'd be... not awful, I suppose."
"Glad you suppose such a thing."
"Rather odd phrasing, don't you think?"
"Rather odd," James mimics. Regulus rolls his eyes, but laughs a little.
“Don’t make fun of me for having a better vocabulary thank you, you absolute baffoon.” It’s at this that James breaks down laughing.
”Did-“ James wheezes, “did you just call me-“ he tries to recompose himself, but as soon as he starts to speak again, he’s laughing. “Did you just call me a baffoon?” He manages.
“Yes, now shut up. You’re disturbing people.”
”Well I wouldn’t want to do that, not when I’m already a buffoon,” James says, still laughing too hard to breathe properly. Regulus glares at him, but is smirking at being able to cause that reaction out of James. Something about being able to prompt that out of anybody (but James especially) is something to be proud of, in Regulus’ eyes at least.
James doesn’t stop laughing at the glare, so Regulus decides to end things by placing his hand firmly against James’ mouth. What he’s not expecting, however, is for James to be perfectly open to this treatment.
The bespectacled boy hums against Regulus’ palm, and then bites his fucking hand. Regulus pulls back, as anyone would, and James smirks clearly proud of his handywork (get it… hand…?).
"Why would you do that?" Regulus said, not angry. Just disappointed.
"Why not?"
"Because my hands are dirty? Potter, we're at school. You could get sick or something."
"Are you lips dirty?"
"What?"
"Nothin'."
"What do you mea-"
"Shush, Mrs Williamsburg wants our attention," James says, putting one finger on Regulus' lips. Regulus rolls his eyes and lets it stay there. He's not gonna bite someone.
***
Fifth period was English, and for James, Regulus, Remus, and Sirius, this meant English together. And then, because life hated the four boys, their teacher said the worst words imaginable to an introvert like Regulus. Group. Project.
Regulus walked to the back of the room, hoping some other person with no friends would do the same and they could work together. But no. No such person appeared, as everyone had friends in this class. And then it got so much worse.
James made eye contact with him.
James made eye contact with him.
That meant one thing and one thing only. That James Potter knew he didn't have a group. And James Potter was anything but one to leave someone out. So, gorgeous James Potter cocked his head in an obvious question. Before Regulus could find another group to go with to save himself, their teacher spoke again.
"Ah, Mr Black...uh...jr... you should go with your older brother."
"I suppose you're right," Regulus said. Might as well accept your doom, right? He walks over to James Potter, Sirius, and Remus dejectedly.
"Welcome to the group, Baby Black," James says. Regulus looks up at him in disbelief.
"Kay."
"So, now that we're all in our groups, I will be telling you the basis of the project. You will be creating, or should I say recreating, a myth or legend in the form of a play. You will present this at the end of the week." Regulus mentally cursed himself for agreeing to join this group, and then again for realizing that he was the one with all the mythology knowledge, which wouldn't be a problem if nobody knew: but Sirius knew. The four boys all sat down at a square table, Regulus 'next' to Remus and Sirius, and across from James.
"Anyone know any good myths?" James asks. Regulus can just stay silent, right? That's allowed...
"Reggie, here, does," Sirius says, slapping him on the back.
"Mhm..." Regulus hums in form of agreement.
"Care to share?" Remus asks.
"We could go for one of the Greek myths. With the gods."
"Like what myth in particular?"
"Icarus!" James proclaims.
"Really? The boy who flew too close to the sun?" Regulus asks.
"Yes, because you seem to be the most competent here, would clearly be the ideal choice for Icarus. And I'm often being compared to the sun. Therefore you would have to come close to me!" James says and, as Sirius puts his face in his hands laughing, shoots Regulus a wink. Regulus rolls his eyes. Remus glances at the younger Black brother with a curious gleam in his eye. Sirius recovers, and they get back to work. Holy fuck, James Potter is more distracting that expected.
"Agreed!" Sirius says.
"We shall paint James yellow and have Regulus hug him," Remus says, that wicked glint coming back to his face.
"Oi! Don't force me to hug him!" Regulus says, but he's laughing along with the group.
"You can hug me anytime," James adds with an extravagant wink.
"Don't you dare fuck each other," Sirius says, well, seriously.
"Wasn't planning on it," Regulus replies.
"Can't agree. I've been planning our eventual shagging for many years, Reggie-boy."
"Shut up, you kiff," Regulus says with a poor sneer.
They end up choosing Icarus anyway, and James is quickly cast as the sun for obvious reasons. Regulus is Icarus, seeing as he knows the most of the myth and could pull it off the best. Sirius is Icarus' father, the creator of the wings. And Remus is King Minos. Soon after everything was chosen and written down, the bell rang. Their teacher dismissed them and the four boys leave the classroom.
"Wait, Reg!" James calls as Regulus was about to head for his car.
"What's up?"
"Can I have your number? To contact you about working after school for Future Problem Solving."
"Uhh, ok?" James handed Regulus his phone, with which Regulus added himself as a contact with the name 'Baby Black'. He shut off the phone and handed it back to James, who pocketed it. "Text me later and I'll add you."
"Will do. See you Monday, Reggie."
"See you," Regulus says, walks to his car, then adds, "Jamie."
***
Once he gets home, he checks his notifications and, sure enough, James had messaged.
Unknown Number:
hey Baby Black
Hello
Assuming this is James, am I?
Unknown Number:
idk you tell me
So that's a yes.
*Contact added*
Jamie:
love the contact name you chose for yourself
What else would I have chosen?
Reggie?
you'd have come up with something, I'm sure
the guys and i have band practice tomorrow
wanna drop by?
What time?
11am
you know my address right
Yeah
I'll see you there.
Should I bring my sticks?
if you want to play with them then sure
See you
Regulus falls back against his bed, content. He was going to see James tomorrow. He was going to see James tomorrow. That's certainly a thing to be excited about. He was thinking about what he was gonna wear when he hears a knock on his bedroom door.
"Who's there?"
"Me, asshole."
"What do you want, Barty?"
"D'you know where Evan is?" Regulus can tell his voice is shaking, even through the wood of the door.
"No..?" Regulus gets up and opens the door. Barty's standing there, hair a mess, looking worried.
"I haven't seen him since this morning. He's usually home by now, no? It's not like him to be this late," Barty says, wringing his hand.
"Have you texted him?"
"Yeah, loads of times. And called him, too. He didn't respond."
"Shit. Check his location on your phone."
"Good idea," Barty says, pulling out his phone. He types something, and his face falls. "He's... he's at the police station..."
"What? Ok, ok. That's fine. Should we drive down there?"
"Wait, he's moving." Regulus moves to stand next to Barty, and watches as the dot moves down some streets. "It looks like he's coming home."
"Ok then, that's sorted. He'll be back soon, don't worry."
"Yeah, yeah you're right. Barty and Regulus watch the dot move all the way home, and a minute or so after, the door of their flat is opened, and an exasperated Evan walks in.
"Hey, sorry I'm late. I was driving a little over the limit and got pulled over. Turns out that was my 'last strike' and I was brought to the station. It's all sorted now, though. Don't worry."
"We weren't worried," Barty says.
"Oh yeah? Is that why you're standing outside Reg's door looking ever so relieved that I'm back?"
"Yep, that's why. Anywho, can we get pizza?"
***
The next day was a Saturday, and Regulus was up bright and early. And by that he means 10:30. He puts on a black button down shirt, only the top button undone, and black jeans. A total of seven silver rings adore his hands. Four on his left, and three on his right. Also a dark green belt with a snakeskin pattern and silver buckle that he decided on just before leaving. He takes an oatmeal raisin muesli bar to eat on the road, and leaves a note explaining his absence for his roommates on the fridge. The car ride is fifteen minutes, but he can't get there soon enough.
As soon as he knocks on the door, it swings open. A grinning James Potter is standing in the doorway, looking far too smug.
"Hello, Reggie-boy. Come in, come in," he says, stepping out of the way.
"Hey, Jamie. Shit."
"What's up?"
"I forgot my sticks. God, I'm an idiot," Regulus says, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You're not an idiot. I have a pair, if you want to use them?" James offers.
"Uh, yeah. Thanks, Potter." Not that he'll ever admit it, but James saying he's not an idiot fills his heart with happiness.
"Come with me, they're just upstairs," James says, then starts heading, you guessed it, up the stairs. Regulus follows, looking at the pictures of a younger James on the wall. Him losing his first tooth, him at a football (soccer) game, him in front of a school with Sirius. James leads him through a couple of hallways and they end up in what is clearly James' bedroom. It's clean, with only a few dirty t-shirts on the floor. "Here," James says, digging through a drawer and pulling out two sticks before tossing them gently to Regulus, who manages to catch both.
"These are the same ones I have!" Regulus says, happy that the sticks feel so comfortable in his hands. Of course, his are more worn out, as James doesn't play drums, but they're the same length and weight, so that brings a sense of comfort.
"Really? I've had those forever."
"Same..." James leaves the room and starts heading back downstairs, and Regulus follows. They make their way to the garage, where Sirius, Peter, and Remus are fiddling with their instruments. Sirius has a red electric guitar with a flame on it, and Remus has a jet black bass. The drum kit has a few drums, and Peter's spinning a stick in his fingers and sitting behind it.
"Finally," Sirius groans when he sees them enter the room.
"What should we play first, boys?" Remus asks, smirking, clearly comfortable. He has one foot on a stool, and is gently plucking the bottom string, meaning the whole garage is filled with a low, quiet vibration. They end up playing a few of their best songs, and they're really good. James' has a range of volume, roughness, and pitch. Sirius is great on guitar, like Regulus remembers. Remus is very confident on bass. And Peter is good on drums.
"Hmm... Reg, what's you favorite song?"
"Balaclava, Arctic Monkeys. You know the lyrics?" Regulus answers.
"Not all of them, but I assume you do. Can you sing?" James asks.
"Kinda... wait, I've changed my mind. The Bad Thing, by the Arctic Monkeys again."
"I do know that one. Everyone else cool with that?" Remus nods, and Sirius does as well. Peter looks a bit confused.
"I don't..." he says meekly.
"Reg? You wanna step in?" James asks.
"Is that ok?" Regulus asks Peter.
"Of course!" Peter gets up, and Regulus walks over. The instruments are arranged in a circle, and James is directly across from Regulus, who's adjusting to the kit.
"Ready, boys?" James' voice is raspy at this point, and Regulus is trying very hard not to blush. "Three, two, one!" Regulus plays, and god does it feel good to play with them.
Do the bad thing
Take off your wedding ring
But it won't make it that much easier
It might make it worse
Oh, the night's like a whirlwind
Somebody's girlfriend's talking to me, but it's alright
She's saying that he's not gonna slap me or try to attack me
He's not the jealous type
And I only need to get half an excuse and I'm away
But when there's no excuses, that's much easier to say
I've been before
And all these capers make us to look for it to ignore
See, she's talking but I'm not entirely sure (ah)
Do the bad thing
Take off your wedding ring
But it won't make it that much easier
It might make it worse
Oh, a sudden disheartener
Somebody's partner's talking to me
But I don't know that is what she isn't
She murmurs things to confirm that the tragedy is true
And I knew, how could she not? She could have anyone she wants
And I'm struggling to think of an immediate response
Like, "I don't mind, it'd be a big mistake for you to wait
And let me waste your time
Really, love, it's fine"
I said, "Really, love, it's fine"
And then the first time it occurred that there was something to destroy
I knew before the invitation that there was this ploy
Oh, but she carried on suggestin', a struggle to refuse
She said, "It's the red wine this time, " but that is no excuse.
Playing with his brother again was an experience in itself, but hearing James sing one of his favorite songs so well, all the while watching him play, was a whole other battle. Because what the fuck. How is it allowed that someone could look so good while singing and playing guitar? Albeit, he was plenty gorgeous before he started playing, but after the first verse, when he picked up his guitar from where it was leaning against the chair next to him, his entire appearance was enhanced far too much to be legal. This isn't fair. I must look absolutely horrible... but the way he's watching me might say otherwise...
"Good one. We should add that to our selection," James says, resting his guitar against the chair again.
"I don't think I'll be able to play that..." Peter says. Before anyone can respond, however, his phone rings. "I should take this. I'll be back in a minute." Peter leaves the room, leaving the others looking between each other, all thinking the same thing. Sirius was the one who broke the silence.
"I brought beer?"
"Knew I could count on you, man!" James says, fist bumping Sirius and taking the bottle Sirius was offering him. Remus took one, so Regulus did as well. Peter came back into the room.
"Sorry about that," he says.
"What was that all about?" Sirius asks, nosy as ever.
"Oh, nothing much. Just my uncle, is all. He's getting remarried." Now, Regulus hasn't known Peter for long, but it looks like a lie. But maybe that's what Peter always looks like.
"Mkay. Anygay, what should we do?" Sirius asks.
"C'mon, Sir (pronounced sear btw), let's get home," Remus says, placing his empty bottle down beside him on the ground.
"Leaving so soon?" James asks with a smirk, and a wink.
"It seems so, mate," Sirius says, accepting Remus' offered hand and getting up. The two of them leave, waving halfheartedly at Regulus and James. Regulus takes a sip of his lukewarm beer.
"I should probably go too, get a suit and shit. See you guys later, I guess," Peter says before leaving as well.
"It's just us then. What d'you wanna do?"
"Dunno..." The two sit in rather uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, or minutes, or hours; Regulus really doesn't know at this point.
"How long have you played drums?" James asks at last.
"I started when Sirius started guitar, quit when he moved out, and took it back up again a little while ago. It's just a hobby for me, though, I don't really see it going anywhere."
"Why not?"
"I don't think I could make it as a professional. Like, you guys are really good. You could be a boy band one day."
"Ah, that's the dream, isn't it?" James says wistfully, hand on his heart, dramatically staring into the distance. The distance to the garage door, which is approximately two meters away.
"You have the looks, at least." You see, Regulus sometimes has troubles with thinking and thinking silently. This was one of those times, as he'd said that out loud. And now James was giving him a curious look. Fuck.
"You calling me hot?"
"No, I'd never use such language. Gorgeous is better."
"Fine. You calling me gorgeous?"
"You're not really my type-" a lie- "I'm actually calling Remus gorgeous. My dearest brother had better watch his man carefully."
"Well, I can't really argue there. Remus is a stunner. Not my type though."
"What is your type, Mister Almighty James Potter?"
"Not telling." And the bloody fucker winks.
"I'm so fucked." Another one of those times. Fuck.
"Why, may I ask?"
"No you may not ask, thank you very much," Regulus says with an attempt at finality to end this conversation. James seems to accept it and move on.
"You know, you're really good on the drums. If for whatever reason, Peter can't make a gig, do you think you'd want to step in?"
"Jamie, I have one question, and one question only. You need to answer truthfully. Are you, or are you not, planning to murder Peter?"
"Wouldn't tell you if I was," James responds with a mischievous smirk. Regulus rolls his eyes.
"But yeah, I'd probably be able to. As long as I know the songs."
"I didn't ask if you were able to, that's clear from your skill, I asked if you'd want to, there's a difference." Regulus isn't used to people wanting to know what he wanted. It's usually just needs and abilities that people are asking about.
"I probably would."
"Great. I'll text you if we need you. Can you play any other instruments?"
"Piano? But Sirius can as well. I can also-"
"Sirius can play piano?! What?! Why was I not informed?! What the fuck? This is the best news. Thank you, Baby Black, you are a brilliant soul with a wonderful mind and an incredible ability to inform me of Sirius' piano-playing expertise." Regulus grins.
"What about you? Can you play anything else?"
"Er... yeah. Two things, actually."
"Can I guess?"
"Go ahead, you won't get it right."
"I feel like it'll be something obscure. But that'd be too obvious. Trombone...?"
"What the fuck, who told you?"
"Wait- I was right? The second one is bound to be flute."
"No, actually. Worse," James says, rubbing the back of his neck, almost... sheepishly?
"Fuckin' french horn or something." James stays wisely silent. "No. Fucking. Way."
"Told you it was bad." Regulus can't even hear him, he's laughing so hard. Who would've pinned James Potter as an orchestra boy. "In my defense! It was a long time ago!"
"It doesn't matter! That's brilliant! How have I survived this long without that information?"
"Please don't tell Sirius!"
"Don't worry, this'll be our little secret. That I will be making fun of you for forever." James just shakes his head, smiling.
"So, piano? You can play too?"
"Well, I did. I haven't in a while, though."
"I have a piano. You wanna play it?"
"Um, I'll try?" James leads Regulus through his house, while Regulus badgers James and forces him to tell the stories of all the pictures on the wall. Eventually, after who knows how long, they get to the room with the piano in it. There are two couches and a bookcase as well. Regulus scans it for any interesting titles.
"Don't worry about those, they're the ones my mum's reading for her book club. There's another shelf upstairs with some better books." Regulus doesn't mention the fact that he has read, and loved, many of the book-club books. James doesn't need to know that.
"You want me to play?"
"More than anything." Regulus sits down on the stool and James stands, leaning against the piano. He plays a scale to get back into the feeling of the keys.
"This is out of tune."
"Figures. Nobody plays it but my uncle. And he only visits on Christmas. And he doesn't play very well..." Regulus plays Ode To Joy, the only song he can remember. It sounds strange with the wonky notes, but still, the fact that he can play at all is an accomplishment.
"Good enough?" Regulus asks, looking up to James. Before he can answer, though, someone interrupts.
"Oh, hello, Jamie dear." James goes red at the nickname. And Sirius,-" Regulus turns to face the woman. "oh, you're not Sirius. I'm Euphemia, James' mum."
"I'm Regulus, Sirius is my older brother. James and I are in some of the same classes."
"It's wonderful to meet you. You play piano?"
"Not very well-" Regulus starts, but James cuts in.
"Yes he does, mum. And drums. He's better on the drums, no offense Reg. But the important part of this story is that Sirius plays piano. Can you believe it?"
"Well that makes sense, he has those dainty, pianist hands." Regulus makes a mental note to tell Sirius that his hands were described as 'dainty' later. Euphemia looks at Regulus, who's still sitting down. "You do as well, love." Regulus deletes that mental note. And tries not to think too hard about the fact that a total stranger has shown him more love than his own mother.
"Is dad going to be home soon?"
"Yes, he'll be home in a few minutes. Have you two eaten anything?" The woman asks, and James looks to Regulus.
"I had a... um... muesli bar."
"That's it? No, that just won't do. I'll make you some food." *A/N, don't forget to eat and drink ily!* Before Regulus can protest, she's already leaving.
"That's my mother, for you. She makes the best food, though, anyone you ask will agree." Regulus doesn't know what to say. It's not like he could comment on his own mother's cooking. He could say something about Ms Rosier's cooking, he supposes, since he's been over to Evan's a few times for family stuff. But that seems weird. "So, um, about the... er... English project?" James says, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, is Icarus still the plan?"
"Probably..."
"Great. We should definitely get working on a script, then," Regulus says. There's a sound through the wall, and Regulus jumps.
"Boys!" A voice calls out.
"That means there's food. C'mon, it's amazing." James leads him into the kitchen, where he sees a spread of food on the counter.
"It's nothing much, just leftovers. I would have made something if I knew you were coming-" Euphemia begins, but Regulus speaks before she can continue.
"No, no, it's great. Thank you so much, Ma'am."
"Oh, don't call me 'ma'am', too formal, makes me sound like an old lady. Please, sit, help yourself." She gestures at the stack of plates next to the food, and Regulus follows James' lead and instruction on what he's deemed too spicy for the white people spice tolerance, ignoring his mother's attempts at getting him to let people 'make their own decisions, Jamie'. Regulus takes some anyway. The two boys sit at the wooden table and start eating. James was right, the food was incredible, better than the chefs' that were employed in his childhood. And yes, it was spicy, but Regulus was just very used to French food.
"You like it?" James asked. Regulus had to pause to finish chewing his (huge) bite of food. It was rude to talk with your mouth full, after all.
"Yes, it's quite possibly the best thing I've ever put in my mouth."
"You put a lot of things in your mouth?" James asks in a low voice, so his mother doesn't hear.
"You're the one who bit me," Regulus responds plainly.
"Are we still on that? It was one time!"
"What was one time, dear?" His mother asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. His ears redden.
"I- er... got an answer wrong in science."
"What are you learning in science? Oh, are you in his science class, Regulus?"
"Yes, I am. Right now we're learning about..." They continue talking mindlessly, and Regulus grows to like James' mum, not as much as James though. He can never like anyone as much as James. And he's also decided not to delve too deep into that thought.
"Well, I ought to let you two get back to the garage. Can't let those instruments get out of use," Euphemia says, picking up James' plate and reaching for Regulus', but he stands with it in his hands and walks to the sink, ready to help clean up. "Let me, let me. Go have fun."
"I'll help, it's the least I can do."
"No, no, I insist." A sound interrupts Regulus from voicing his next thought.
"Honey! I'm home!"
"Dad! We're in the kitchen!" A tall man walks into the kitchen, looking strikingly like a paler version of James. Messy hair, crooked smile, broad shoulders, straight nose, but blue eyes. A distinctly not James feature. James has his mothers eyes, that look like pools of melted chocolate when the sun hits them right.
"Hello," the man sticks out a huge, dirt-covered hand to Regulus, who shakes it. "I'm Fleamont Potter, James dad, you are?"
"Regulus Black."
"Another Black?"
"Yes, sir. Sirius is my older brother."
"'Sir'?" Regulus mentally curses himself. They don't do that here. That's just you. That's just you. That's just you, you fucking weirdo. Get a grip.
"Sorry," Regulus says quickly.
"Don't be sorry, son. You've got a firm handshake on you, though, giving me a run for my money."
"I'm well versed in meeting new people."
"That's a good skill to have. It's nice to meet you."
"You too." Regulus bites his tongue, stopping himself from saying 'sir' again.
"Alright, Reg, we should head out to the garage before my parents whip out the baby photos," James, oh thank the moon for James, says.
"Right, yes, let's go." Regulus follows James out of the kitchen and back through the picture-decorated halls until they reach the garage.
"Sorry about them," James says, ruffling his hair.
"Don't be. I like them."
"You do? You looked... pretty uncomfortable."
"I didn't want to fuck up." Regulus shrugs. He looks at James when he realizes just how heavy those words are. James, saint, looked understanding.
"It's pretty hard to fuck up an interaction with my parents. And besides, they understand." Regulus attempt at a question with his expression seems to have done the trick, as James quickly adds, "because of Sirius. He also started off calling them sir and ma'am, standing all boxy,-"
"I was not boxy," Regulus cuts in, but James ignores him.
"-being awkward, and generally just looking like you are either about to die or wanting to run. Or both. A lot of the time both." He pauses. "I'm not helping. What I'm trying to say is, they've done this before. They made Sirius feel safe as best as they could in the year he was here. And even though you don't live here, they'll try to do the same for you. I promise."
"I..." He doesn't know what to say. There isn't anything to say.
The sun and the star are standing close enough that words no longer matter. Actions are all that count. But no, James is a coward. The two of them find themselves standing in silence, desperately wishing the other would do something, say something. Anything. It does end up being James to move first, but only to mess with his hair. He wonders if he ruined everything by comparing Regulus to his brother. They really weren't at all alike, besides their habits and mannerisms, which Sirius has since mostly left behind him. They're so different. Where Sirius is loud and vivacious, Regulus is witty and settled, but that doesn't mean that being with him isn't a thrill every time. How lucky is James that he gets to be friends with both brothers.
The silence has stretched on for nearly two minutes, and while it may not seem like a long time, it's two minutes standing in silence with the one boy you never want to see close his mouth. He wishes- he doesn't know. He can't think of anything to fill the miles of space between them. This is going to be a long year, James thinks, and not for the first time.