For the world cup final, Remus and James are prepared. If Sirius and Regulus won the last round by invoking the French card, then Remus and James are all for Argentina; they’re ready with their jerseys and their scarves and the world’s loudest horn that James had from his university days. If Sirius and Regulus can use football for their own good, then they’re on James and Remus’s home turf, and they’re not ones to miss out on an opportunity, especially not when it’s presented to them on a silver platter.
James knows Regulus’s -fake- excitement for the game has probably died down by now, so he’s counting on that. Sirius, on the other hand, will definitely milk the football fanboy facade as long as it got him laid, which James commended, but it wasn’t his battle to fight, this one was all Remus. Partners in this or not, at the end of the day, it was every man for himself, and they were both well aware of that.
James walks into Sirius and Remus’s place and is greeted by the sight of Sirius painting the French flag on Remus’s cheek. Remus tries to avoid making eye contact with James in hopes of not breaking at the look of utter betrayal that the other man is giving him.
“I can explain?” Remus tries but James just holds up his hand.
“I am so close to pulling the silent treatment card on you, you’ve been benched, Lupin.” He says as he looks around for Regulus, who is casually leaning against the door frame, twirling a scarf with Argentina’s flag between his fingers. James smiles at his boyfriend. Wait. He does a double take. What is going on? James is, once again, completely and utterly confused.
Regulus walks towards James and pulls his boyfriend in for a sweet kiss. A hello. A how are you. An I missed you. An I’m so glad you’re here. An all the nice things that Regulus doesn’t say out loud but always communicates to James. Of course, James melts into the kiss, of course, he forgets his initial confusion, what even is football and why does it matter and whatever chance does it stand against this pure and utter bliss, James simply doesn’t know, and at this point, doesn’t even care.
Regulus pulls back and James pouts, actually pouts, which earns him a small smile from Regulus. “Don’t want you to miss anything.” He says as he escorts them to the living room where Sirius and Remus are sprawled out on the couch in matching French jerseys with Sirius looking absolutely delighted and Remus trying so hard to hide his disgust for his boyfriend’s sake. James remembers his confusion. He is back to being confused.
He takes a seat on the armchair, pulling Regulus into his lap. “What is going on?” His voice comes as a whisper and Regulus simply shrugs.
“I figured you and Lupin would pull something stupid like cheer for the opposite team today, which you did,” He gives him an accusatory look to which James pouts and Regulus kisses his stupid little pout away. “Ridiculous,” He says fondly. “Anyways, I knew my dickhead brother would also pull something to get Lupin on his team, which he also did, and thought I’d come prepared to be on your team. Which, by the way, you’re very welcome for. You owe me so much, I’m going to cash it all in at the worst possible tim-“ He doesn’t get to finish because James is kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. God, he loves that man so much.
“I love you,” Another kiss. “So much,” Another kiss. “It’s us against them now, huh?” Regulus just kisses him again in response. Sirius throws a pillow at them. Regulus flips him off. The match begins.
The first half is intense, but at the end of it, James and Regulus are celebrating. Or more James celebrating and Regulus trying his best to be excited for him, which James deeply appreciates. Sirius is glaring daggers at them or at least trying to.
“Mooonyyyy,” Sirius whines. “Defend my honor.” He pouts and Remus rolls his eyes fondly.
“Guys, please save all your gloating to the end of the match, when Argentina eventually wins,” He says and Sirius elbows him. “Ouch, sorry. I meant please refrain from any celebrations unless they’re in favor of the French team.”
“Our French team.” Sirius corrects.
“Absolutely not,” Remus replies.
“Our esteemed French team?”
“Fuck no,”
Their bickering is drowned out by the sounds of the second half starting and the boys get engrossed in the game once again, even Regulus seems to be paying attention, giving the tinniest of reactions here and there. James tightens his grip on his boyfriend, still in his lap, and he almost wants to watch him instead. He wants to tune out the noises and the match and Sirius’s annoying cheers-
Wait, why is Sirius cheering?
James’s train of thought is rudely interrupted by one annoying Sirius Black cheering, because apparently, while James was distracted by his gorgeous boyfriend, France managed to sneak a goal, followed by another, and now it’s a tie, and this is starting to feel like a true world cup final.
Extra time rolls in and everyone is so focused, even Regulus has moved to the floor between James’s legs to get a better view. Everyone is on edge, Sirius wants his team to win because this stupid charade actually made him give a shit, Remus wants Argentina to win, but also doesn’t want his boyfriend to be upset, so you can see him visibly struggle, Regulus finally grasps the concept of the game and looks at both Remus and James throughout the match as if to say he gets it now, and James is just happy to be there, he doesn’t really care who wins or who loses at this point, he’s just content that they’re all gathered here, that someone will end up with a smile on their face at the end of the day and they’ll all eventually be happy together, James is just so warm and fuzzy and sated and he wants this to last forever.
James is also anxious. Because not caring who wins does not spare him from the inevitable anxiety that penalties bring him. And so there he is, now on the floor with Regulus, head hidden behind the smaller man’s shoulder, and trying so hard not to look at the screen as the players take turns shooting.
Eventually, someone screams, like honest to god screams. It’s Remus. James peeks from behind Regulus and sees that Argentina won. Remus notices a second too late that he let his bias show, and immediately turns back to console Sirius, who, albeit sad, can not hide his smile and points an accusatory finger at his boyfriend.
“You absolute wanker, I knew you weren’t on my team, couldn’t keep the act up a bit longer?”
A blush makes its way to Remus’s cheeks and he clears his throat. “I’ll make it up to you?”
“Oh, you’d better, Moony, I’ll be expecting a lot of-“ Sirius is abruptly cut off by a pillow to the head. “Hey! What was that for?”
“No sex talk until we’re gone,” Regulus says. “Don’t even try to deny it, we all know it was coming.”
Sirius looks at Remus and James for backup, both of whom just shrug. “Sorry, pads, Reg is right on this one,” James says.
“I miss when you used to be on my side,” Sirius pouts and James pouts. Remus pulls Sirius onto his lap and whispers something to him that gets him to both blush profusely and also shut up for the remainder of the night. James does not want to know.
“You know, I’ll murder you if you ever repeat what I’m about to say to anyone,” Regulus starts in a whisper. “But I’m really going to miss this. It’s not about the game per se, really. It’s just about this, you know? The company and the atmosphere and all of us are passionate about something, despite everyone’s intentions and hidden agenda. It was fun.” He turns to look at James. “I’ll particularly miss you all riled up about football, it is hot. And no, that doesn’t mean I’ll join you for every godforsaken football event ever, but, if you find me watching from afar sometimes, you better remain on your best behavior or else I’ll have watched for nothing.”
James smiles. “You’re an asshole.” He pulls Regulus in for a kiss. “I love you so very much.”
“Despite the asshole thing?”
“Oh sweetheart, because of the asshole thing.”