are all doctors alcoholics?
6
The day after Regulus’ day shift where he had to allow Frank Longbottom to shadow him like an annoying buzzing fly, Regulus is up far too early to compensate for the lack of sleep and strenuous activities he partook working almost four 14 hour shifts in a row. Bleary eyed and chronically sleep deprived, he drags himself out of bed just before nine o'clock when Sylvester doesn’t stop clawing his pillow because the cat is hungry. The little shit.
Regulus grumbles the whole way to the kitchen and the whole time he’s getting the stupid cats food ready. He then even proceeds to glare at the cat with a look that could kill while he’s eating his meal, because the horrible cat ruined his precious sleep just to get a full stomach of food.
Regulus didn't get to bed the previous night till after three in the morning, mind so focused on revising for a theory exam set to take place in a months time. He got home from work just before 11 o’clock, because even at nighttime it still takes 45 minutes to get from the hospital to his flat. He still refuses to begrudge it though, because he really hates getting the tubes. By the time he got home after his shift with Frank, having a shower prioritised over everything else, and only when he got out did he manage to find the motivation to reheat some lasagne Dorcas gave him the day before. He ate the food and treated himself to a generous half a bottle of wine while he was studying, losing time in his work and when he looked at the clock next still sitting at his desk, it was almost three AM. Hence, he was not impressed when he looked at his clock this morning to find Sylvester had woken him up at 8:45.
Again, the little shit.
It takes the desperate downing of three coffees for Regulus to stop internally murdering the cat, and by the time he's on his fourth, it's just gone 10 in the morning. He's in his study office once again, nose deep in a textbook in the office, one hand scribbling down notes and the other occasionally running through Sylvester fur where the cat is curled up on his lap.
He’s entrapped in an article about a rare neurological disease recorded back in 2004 when his phone buzzes beside him, breaking him out of his trance.
Pandora (12:02) i’m having problems with someone
Regulus rubs the dryness out of his eyes from staring at the bleak white pages of the huge textbook for so long before he replies.
Regulus (12:03) like their dead body won’t fit in a bag kind of problems or you like them kind of problems?
Pandora (12:05) so charming
Pandora (12:05) the second one i think
Regulus (12:06) you think?
Pandora (12:06) love is complicated!! you would never understand
Regulus (12:07) then why did you text me about it?
Pandora (12:07) because you give good advice and i want to see you. so wrap up whatever studying you’re doing and meet me <3
Regulus (12:08) retail therapy and lunch?
Pandora (12:09) see, this is why I texted you and not barty or evan
Regulus (12:09) usual place?
Pandora (12:09) always <3
Regulus tosses the textbook to the side and when Sylvester jumps off his lap, he stands up too. He’s been engrossed in his studies for a solid two hours, which isn’t much but he’s got time to do it later. Pandora didn’t need to say it, but he knows she’s being serious about needing some help. Plus, they haven’t seen each other in over a week because of shifts and classes clashing and their timetables being so opposite. He misses Pandora, so studying, for once, can wait a few hours.
It’s sunny out, but the October chill has barrelled into London over the last week like a bowling ball through a glass cabinet. Regulus untucks the collar of his jacket and folds it to stand up straight to give his neck some grace against the autumn bite of London weather as he makes his way towards his and Pandora's favourite cafe.
It's a hole in the wall kind of place. Vintage furniture, mismatched mugs and saucers, handmade paintings and art plastered on the walls. The place looks like a yard sale that offers coffee and sandwiches, and when him and Pandora first started coming here Regulus had never felt so out of place. Still coming to terms with not being under his mothers thumb anymore and being able to speak and breathe his own opinion and desires, he felt like he stuck out in the cafe like a sore thumb when they found it back in first year of university. He still does, sometimes. It's the kind of place that only Londoners know because to visiting tourists it doesn't compete with the Oxford road cafes or the artsy places by Big Ben. It's small, run down, and borderline falling apart, but they make the best banana bread Regulus has ever tasted so he folds every time Pandora says that's the place they're going.
Now-a-days, Regulus stops fighting the inevitable and just accepts that he loves the metaphorical runt of the London cafes.
Pandora is already waiting for him outside by the time he arrives, which is also to be expected: Pandora takes Regulus' need to be on time to places to a whole new level. The time management has been slowly beaten out of Regulus since he qualified as a doctor, mostly because he can't remember the last time he managed to finish his shift on time or not run over into an arranged dinner. Pandora, however, has yet to battle through the mental breakdown of time management that shift work in a hospital does to you, and hence is still the most time precise person Regulus knows.
If Pandora isn't 10 minutes early to an arrangement, she, in her eyes, is late.
You can never be late if you always plan to be early, is what she likes to drill into their heads when all three of the boys are late for dinners or the last to arrive for nights out.
Regulus used to be very good at it, but it's just another thing working as a full time doctor has taken away from him.
She looks up from her phone as she approaches him, lips curling upwards.
"It wouldn’t be a Regulus and Pandora fun-day if Regulus wasn’t dressed straight out of a fashion magazine for funerals," she greets.
"Good afternoon to you too," Regulus smiles replies. "And have to remind people my surname is Black somehow."
"I only speak out of envy, my darling," Pandora giggles. "You know you’re the best dressed in London."
"Oh, I know," Regulus winks, "but feel free to keep reminding me."
Pandora rolls her eyes.
"Swot."
Regulus kisses her cheek, "Ma chérie (My darling)."
Pandora hums, looking at him with warmth. It's almost concerning how quickly she can switch from being the most sassy person in the world to feeling a the mother hen. It still confuses people to this day how Regulus and Pandora get along so well. Seemingly crafted from completely different roots, they are polar opposites of one another. Even by looks, with Pandora’s thick and flowing blonde hair that is now reaching as low as the small of her back even as it’s braided in a loose plait, and dressed in a pale blue pinafore dress and long sleeve white top underneath the straps, with cream wool socks pulled up to her knees and feet covered by a pair of brown boots. She’s a stark contrast against Regulus' black peacoat, black thick knitted jumper, black jeans and his favourite black Doc Marten shoes.
It wasn’t until Regulus met Pandora that he believed the saying opposites attract.
"Sleep well?" She asks as they go inside. She waves at the girl behind the kiosk, before leading Regulus to their usual seats that thankfully, are free.
"Yes, until the cat decided breakfast comes before beauty sleep," Regulus replies, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of the chair.
"I've missed you this week," Pandora smiles, sighing. She adds, "and Sylvester. I missed him more than you, actually."
"Thanks," Regulus scoffs. "I'm sure Sylvester missed you too."
"Of course he did. I'm his favourite."
Regulus raises an eyebrow. "He's my cat, remember?"
"And he'll be mine if you die," Pandora nods, voice so stiff with seriousness that it punches a heartily huff out of Regulus' chest.
"Yes, Pan, we've discussed this a dozen times. If and when I die, if Sylvester is still alive and kicking, you may have him."
"Good," she smiles, "just double checking you remember."
"You hardly let me forget."
They order their usual: a chai latte and vegetarian full English for Pandora and a caramel latte and scrambled egg and bacon on toast for Regulus.
"Caramel latte?" Pandora asks, tone teasing.
"Yes," Regulus replies, ducking his head to straighten his sleeves so his hair will fall over his face enough to hide the creeping heat settling in his cheeks, "and what?"
"Nothing," she shakes her head, eyeing him. "Just never seen you order anything sweeter than a regular latte. Who the hell managed to get you into something so. . . lovely?"
Regulus stops short quite abruptly.
Round glasses and smooth dark skin flashes behind his eyes. His chest tightens as James comes to mind. James, who has no right to take up so much space in Regulus’ head when the man has barely supplied Regulus with enough caffeine put together to get him through a tough shift.
The man is so kind and gentle it makes Regulus sick to his stomach, ashamed how quickly he’s become reliant on the guy coming in during shifts to give him that five minutes of change.
James is the only person not already in Regulus’ small and tight friendship circle to ever make him feel warm in a room, and James has no right to be able to do that. He’s annoying and loud and always overstepping his boundaries on multiple occasions.
Yet Regulus is finding himself craving that warmth like a man who's spent years inside an igloo.
Blinking, he shrugs, "No one has 'managed' anything. Cafe got my order wrong once on shift and put a caramel shot in my latte. It’s nice to have a change sometimes."
Pandora narrows her eyes inquiringly.
"Black, are you hiding something?"
"Va te faire foutre, je ne cache rien (Fuck off, I’m not hiding anything)," Regulus growls, slipping back into French in his haste to hide his growing panic.
"Don’t swear at me in French," Pandora laughs, and then she gasps, "You’re blushing! Someone has made Regulus, the cold stone of a human, Black blush?"
"I am not blushing and there is no ’someone’," Regulus snaps. He rolls his shoulders straight, huffing a breath. "We’re here to talk about you, so stop asking me questions about my coffee order."
Pandora holds her hands up in mock surrender, only driving Regulus to roll his eyes so hard he worries for a moment they might get stuck to the inside of his head.
"What's your problem then?" Regulus grumbles. "Do I need to buy a shovel and a body bag?"
Pandora giggles, shaking her head.
"No, I don't think so. Not yet, anyways," she says. "You remember Xeno?"
"The one we met in the Leaky a couple months ago that squared the asshole round the jaw because he refused to refer to them with non-binary pronouns?"
Pandora nods. "Yeah, that's them."
"They still have that ridiculous bleach blonde hair?"
"Regulus, it's their natural hair colour."
Scoffing, he replies, "No one's hair is naturally that white. I refuse to believe it."
Pandora rolls her eyes.
"Anyway," she says, taking a delicate sip of her latte, "we had our fifth date on Thursday. We went out for dinner, it was so lovely and honestly that Italian place did the best spaghetti bolognese I think I’ve ever tasted."
"Better than Papa Fontayne’s?"
"Yes, but do not tell him I said that," Pandora says seriously. "So we went our for dinner and naturally, we went out for drinks afterwards—"
"Naturally."
"— as we’d already drank wine at the restaurant. So, then later when we’re walking along the thames after all the drinks, by this point we’re both quite drunk and laughing at some stupid TV show Xeno's been watching. Then, my phone rang and guess who it was."
Regulus doesn’t even bother opening his mouth, mostly because he knows whenever Pandora asks someone to guess something, she only gives about 0.5 seconds to make the guess. He lifts his mug to take a sip of his coffee when Pandora leans over the table and stares him straight in the eyes.
"Benjy Fenwick."
Regulus chokes on his coffee so hard it almost comes out of his nose.
"Fucking hell," he sputters, hacking loud enough to echo in the cafe. "I haven’t heard that name in years. Is he back in London?"
"Yep, and he wants to meet," Pandora sighs.
Regulus raises an eyebrow. "So, the problem is Benji?"
"No, the problem is my ex is back in the city and Xeno feels uncomfortable about it."
"You have explained that Benji wasn’t 'Benji' when you dated, right?"
"Of course I have," Pandora practically hisses. "I told them straight away that we dated for a year when we were 19, that at the time we were both girls, that Benji admitted to me eight months in that he was transitioning into a man and was going to change his name. I told Xeno everything, Reg."
"You have nothing to be ashamed of," Regulus frowns. "It was sweet, actually. You and Benji. You helped him transition, supported him the whole way and then he moved back to Japan to live with his parents. What’s Xeno’s problem?"
"The problem is Benji is my ex, and I don’t think Xeno likes that he’s back and I agreed to meet him before he goes back to Japan," Pandora admits.
Regulus never had a problem with Benji. He didn’t like him as much as the rest of his friends, only because the guy was gravely annoying and had the mental maturity of a six year old during a sugar high. When Benji transitioned, Pandora was genuinely the best. Supportive and open minded, she did everything she could to encourage Benji to do whatever he needed to feel comfortable in his own skin. She even accepted the breakup, when Benji decided that after all these years of being in England trying to find himself, he’s ready to go home and confront his family to see if they accept him as a boy.
Regulus knows Pandora was expecting the relationship to end, so when it finally did happen she wasn’t sad about it. Again, like everything else, she was endlessly supportive and motivated for Benji to do what he needed to do to pursue the life he’d been depriving himself of from being too afraid to come out.
That’s who Pandora is though: a force to be reckoned with if you do her wrong or she’s fighting for something she believes in, but when you need her, she’ll will drop everything and stop at nothing to make sure you get it.
Regulus runs a hand through his hair.
"Pan, you’re not doing anything wrong here in my eyes. You’re always the one to preach that ex’s can still be friends. Plus, you and Benji went through something not a lot of couples go through. In the end, you two were more friends than partners anyway."
"I know, but Xeno doesn’t believe me," she says.
"Then introduce them."
She blinks. "What?"
"Introduce them," Regulus repeats, shrugging. "Take Xeno with you when you go to meet Benji. Show them that there is nothing between you and Benji apart from a heartwarming history and friendship."
"What if they don’t get along?"
"Firstly, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like the two of them are going to be part of the same friendship group anyways if Benji is only visiting. Secondly, that’s a ridiculous thought because those two are literally cut from the same cloth."
Pandora frowns.
"They are both disgustingly happy all the time and think the world is turned by rainbows and angels."
Pandora throws her head back with a laugh.
"My, Regulus," she muses, "people can be happy all the time, you know."
"They can't."
"They can."
"It's annoying."
"So lovely," she smiles.
The waitress comes over with their food, beaming smiles as she converses kindly with Pandora about the last time she was here and talking about her exams. When she leaves, Regulus stares Pandora down, horrified, as she saturates her plate in enough salt and pepper to give someone a heart attack. Regulus takes a bite of his own meal before she speaks again.
"Do you think it will work?"
Regulus swallows his mouthful. "Taking Xeno to meet Benji?"
She nods.
"I think it will make Xeno feel better. Firstly, it will make you look like the angel you are for what you did for Benji, and secondly, it will shoot down any ideas Benji may have about getting back together," he replies. "Not that I think Benji does want to get back together, but you meeting him with your new partner will make it nice and clear."
She smiles round a mouthful of vegetarian bacon.
"See," she says a moment later, "this is why I ask you for advice and no longer Barty."
"Did you ask Barty?"
"I mentioned it to him the other night."
"And what was his advice?"
"Have a threesome with both of them."
Regulus stabs at his scrambled egg, smirking, "That doesn’t surprise me. Maybe make that plan B."
"I will not be making that plan B. Maybe plan Z, more like!" Pandora exclaims.
"I agree. My plan won’t fail. You won't even need a plan B."
When they finish with lunch, Pandora drags him to the underground vintage shops. While Regulus never finds things he likes apart from the odd coat or jumper, he does enjoy shopping for Pandora. He’s always enjoyed clothes, enjoyed looking and feeling good, and while he’s not the best at up cycling old clothes, Pandora is a gem at it and always seems to find the hidden diamonds in vintage stores.
Regulus remembers how pristine and perfect him and Sirius had to look growing up. They never got to play in mud as children, or go to the park or dig their fingers in the dirt in the garden to make mud pies. Their childhoods consisted of being moulded as early as possible to be the perfect business men their parents desired. They were never children to them, they were simply heirs and spares.
Regulus knows he hasn’t fully shaken off the lifestyle his parents shoved down his throat growing up. There are still some parts of him that scarily remind him of his parents, but moments when he’s in the literal underground shop that smells like stale clothes and is flicking through the old racing jackets to find the perfect one for Pandora, he likes to think he’s broken the mould enough.
"What about this one?"
Regulus turns around to see Pandora holding a bright orange jumpsuit.
"That's for Halloween, right?"
Pandora gasps, blanching, "No! Why would it be for Halloween?"
"Because if you wear that it will look like you've dressed up as a giant traffic cone," Regulus replies, tone very matter of fact.
Pandora rolls her eyes before stuffing the jumpsuit back on the rack. "You have no fashion imagination, Black."
"Yes I do. I imagined you looking like a traffic cone in that prison jumpsuit," Regulus says, mindlessly going back to flicking through the rack. He pulls out an old looking suede tan leather jacket that looks like its come right off a western runway. "What about this?"
Pandora gasps loudly and snatches it out of his hands.
"Yes!" She cries, looking at the jacket like Regulus has handed her a million dollar diamond. "Oh, it’s perfect. Yes!"
Regulus smirks and leans back to watch her as she stands in front of the mirror, sliding the jacket over her clothes and turning in every angle to check out the item he found.
"Like it?" He asks, smug.
She looks at him over her shoulder, face split with a smile.
"It was made for me."
He nods.
"Couldn’t agree more."
He buys Pandora the jacket as she paid for lunch. They quickly dip into the pet store where Regulus bought far too pricey treats for Sylvester because the cat is more fussy than a human and will only eat the chicken flavoured ones from a specific shop downtown. They end up spending about half an hour in there when Regulus struggles to drag Pandora away from goggling at all the fish at the back.
Pandora is wearing her new jacket, looking in every shop window they walk past when Regulus’ phone buzzes in his pocket.
(3 unread notifications from 'lady gaga’s fan club')
Barty (15:33) lady, gentlemen and regulus
Barty (15:33) hospital night out out tonight at leaky, everyone confirm you are free
Barty (15:33) and if you’re not free, cancel whatever you’re supposed to be doing because OUT OUT PEOPLE!!
Regulus looks up from his phone to see Pandora already looking at him. She smirks suddenly.
"I mean, it is a Saturday," she grins, baring her pearly white teeth. "Saturdays are meant for partying."
Regulus rolls his eyes. "If Barty heard you say that he’d correct you to say everyday is meant for partying."
His phone buzzes again, only this time it’s Evan in the group chat.
Evan (15:36) I confirm I’m free
Barty (15:36) yes rosy!!! frypan??
Regulus smirks at Pandora. She hates that nickname.
Pandora (15:37) always free to go to LC
Barty (15:37) that’s my girl!
"Does this mean we need do more shopping to find you a new dress for tonight?" Regulus asks.
"Oh, no need for that," Pandora smiles, "I have the perfect dress at home."
"This 'perfect dress' a gift from Xeno, perhaps?"
"They have got exquisite taste," Pandora nods.
Regulus rolls his eyes. He wants to say that Xeno dresses like they’ve fallen off the back of a hippie van, but he doesn’t. Mostly because Xeno is the only person who seems to be able to actually pull the look off without looking like a total idiot. Head turning though, absolutely.
Barty (15:45) reggie-kins?? you there sweetheart?
Regulus rolls his eyes again and types out a quick message.
Regulus (15:46) don’t call me that
Barty (15:46) confirm yes or no to tonight
Regulus doesn’t even bother entertaining to decline the evening. He knows, more than anything, that Barty is not going to take no for an answer. Hospital nights out are a tradition, much like fajita night or getting breakfast if they’re all on a nightshift together. Plus, as much as he enjoys moaning about being forced to go out, Regulus has a burning weakness for cocktails and dancing.
Regulus (15:48) yes, only because I already know I don’t have a choice in the matter
Barty (15:48) correct you do not :)
"Guess that's our evening organised," Pandora muses, tucking her phone into her jacket pocket. "I feel foolish for ever thinking graduating was going to get you guys to grow up."
"Growing up would involve Barty no longer trying to pull girls in freshers," Regulus corrects, closing his phone. "Just be grateful he's grown up as much as he has."
"It wasn't hard for us all to pass as first years even when you guys were finishing your courses," Pandora smiles. "I mean, you still get asked for ID most of the time."
"We all still get asked for ID," Regulus huffs indignantly. "You and Barty should be the ones insulted, as you're both 25 next year."
Pandora closes her eyes dramatically, holding her hand up as she bites her bottom lip.
"Don't remind me," she whispers.
"Don't worry, ma chérie (my darling)," he smiles, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as a nudge to get her walking again. "You don't look a day over 35."
She rips his arm off her and shoves him so hard he almost stumbles straight into a large restaurant dustbin.
Regulus already has the glasses out ready when the trio arrive at his door hours later. Freshly showered and dressed, he's standing in the tiny kitchen in his flat washing up the plate he used for his dinner, when the front door opens behind him.
"There he is!" Barty’s voice rings out.
"The man!" Evan adds.
"The myth!" Barty cries.
"The grumpy git!"
Regulus turns just enough to glare directly at Evan over his shoulder, who’s shit-eating grin falters slightly.
"Oh, don’t be like that, Reggie-wedgie," Barty croons, skipping over to him.
"Don’t call me that."
"So mean," Barty kisses him wetly on the cheek, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "Did you enjoy your day out with Pandora today? Must have been boring considering you forgot to invite me."
"Don’t be so envious, Barty," Regulus says as he dries his hands on a tea-towel. "You know me and Pandora meet up every two weeks for a lunch just to specifically gossip about you."
Barty stares at him, eyes narrowing a fraction. "You know, I can never tell if you’re joking about these things."
"Good."
"Hey, Black!" Evan says from where he’s already snatched the glasses from the side and is pouring them all vodka and orange juice mixers. "Barty told us about your exciting shift on Thursday. Want to fill us in on your exciting rendezvous with your student?"
Regulus’ eyes flick to Barty beside him, who grins sheepishly and shrugs.
"What the fuck did you tell them?" Regulus hisses.
"That the dude you mentored the other day was also the guy you slept with a few months ago drunk off your ass," Barty grins.
"And why, dare I ask, did you decide to tell them about that?"
He snatches a glass off the side and takes a greedy gulp. "It’s exciting news, Black."
"Exciting?"
"It’s incredibly riveting to me when things like this happen to you," Barty shrugs. "Your whore lifestyle comes catching up to you and in the most funniest way possible."
"Whore lifestyle?" Regulus echoes. "You sleep with far more people than me!"
"Yeah, but they never come into my work."
"That’s because everyone you sleep with is either too young to have finished university or too stupid to work at a hospital."
"Now, now, boys," Pandora smiles as she slinks up, kissing Regulus on the cheek, scooping Sylvester off the side and gracefully sitting down on the bar stool with the cat in her lap. "Though, it does make me sad you left out that glowing part of your week when we met up earlier."
"Hardly a glowing part of my week," Regulus grumbles. "More like a 12 hour shift I’m ready to block from my memory."
Evan laughs into his glass. "It’s too funny. The coincidence is unmatched."
"Rosier, shut the fuck up."
"Touchy, are we, Doctor Black?"
"Did you really not expect us all to be informed of this, Reg?" Pandora asks, stroking Sylvester like a villain out of a film. "You told Barty Crouch Junior. You should have known better."
"I should have," Regulus huffs. "The only thing to tell is a one night stand shag turned out to be a student on neuro on Thursday and Euphemia blackmailed me into mentoring him before I found out who the guy actually was."
"How did Euphemia blackmail you?"
"She knows Regulus can’t say no to her when it comes to feeding his ego at being ward manager for a shift," Barty grins, flashing his teeth. "Ain’t that right, Doctor Black?"
"Keep talking and I won’t come out tonight."
"Lies!" Barty wails with a laugh. "Now, less talking about Regulus’ tragic non-existent love life and instead hilarious backstabbing sex stories, and more drinking because we have to be at the Leaky in exactly two hours to meet the beautiful ladies of neurology and cardiology and none of us are even a fraction of tipsy."
"We just got here?" Evan quizzes. "How are we meant to already be tip—"
"Less talking, more drinking!" Barty cheers, clinking his glass with Regulus’ before chugging the just over half-full drink.
Evan roars a laugh and does the same, while Pandora rolls her eyes.
Four drinks in each later, they’ve moved from the kitchen to the lounge. Evan and Barty are sitting on the sofa, Pandora is spread out comfortably on the large sofa chair that practically swallows her body whole and Regulus is laid out on the floor, wine glass cradled loosely in his fingers and Sylvester curled up by his legs.
Barty is pouring shots when Evan suddenly grabs a deck of cards out of the bag, declaring he wants a poker rematch. Crowded round the coffee table, all buzzed on vodka and shots with cards in hand reminds Regulus painfully of their university days. Many blurry nights were spent the four of them, sitting round for hours losing money to each other with card games. They haven’t got the cards out since way before they (minus Pandora) graduated and started the rollercoaster ride of their careers. Regulus’ stomach is pinched with nostalgia and warmth when Evan is laying out the cards to play rummy, Pandora and Barty already in a semi-yelling argument about the rules.
Regulus’ favourite thing about card games is that Barty absolutely sucks at them. Evan’s older cousins taught him how to play many games when he was growing up, and Pandora’s parents had a Sunday tradition of playing rounds of rummy after dinner. Regulus was never taught to play cards, but he stole a deck from Sirius’ room after his older brother ran away and before they moved from London, so he’d taught himself some pretty impressive shuffling skills before they met at university, making Evan believe for a while that he was actually raised in Vegas instead of France.
Regulus picked up all the rules to card games very quickly when they all first started playing, becoming Evan’s number one rival at poker, but Barty never did. Still, to this day after four years of friendship, he still sourly sucked at any and all card games.
And to top it, he was an incredibly sore loser.
They start playing with chips for bargaining, but after a few more drinks Evan decides they were going to bring real money into the games. When Barty loses five rounds and is £150 down to both Regulus and Evan, he swipes his wallet off the table and declares that they were bargaining shots instead. Already hammered and drunk enough to feel giddy and senseless, they all agree.
They stop playing just before Barty looks ready to flip the table when Pandora beats him at another game of rummy, and quickly shoves a homemade sex on the beach cocktail under his nose.
That is another thing about Barty: he is classically macho enough when sober to consistently rip the shit out of Regulus for always drinking cocktails, but as soon as he's drunk enough, he too is downing them himself like they're merely water.
After obliterating Evan’s ass at poker, Regulus has moved closer to Pandora in the last games of rummy between her and the other two. He’s reclined in-between her legs, slummped enough that his head is cradled on her knee and her hand calmly running through his hair. When Barty tackles Evan on the sofa after calling him a sore loser, Regulus tilts his head up and meets Pandora’s eyes that are already gazing down at him.
"Are you alright, mon ange?" She asks, hand never moving out of his hair.
"If you keep playing with my hair I’m going to fall asleep," Regulus murmurs back.
"I know," she smiles, "I’ll stop in a minute. It’s just nice to see you so relaxed. You’ve been very stressed lately."
Regulus closes his eyes slowly. "I live a stressful life. Today was nice though. I enjoyed it."
"So did I," Pandora replies, and a moment later a kiss is pressed against his forehead. "Thank you."
"Toujours, mon préféré (Always, my favorite)," Regulus recites automatically.
"Oi!"
Regulus lifts his head, glaring at Barty where he’s now somehow sprawled out on the floor and Evan is looking victorious on the sofa.
"Are we ready to party, my disgusting platonic lovers?"
"Fuck off, Bartemius."
As per, everyone is already at the Leaky when they arrive. In their usual booth, the girls are all sat with a table of cocktails and empty shot glasses.
"Lily!" Evan cheers, beaming and eyes lighting up, "You made it!"
The red-head grins as she stands up to hug Evan.
"Managed to convince Fred to swap shifts with me," she replies. "Couldn’t miss another night out. Feel like it’s been forever since I went out with you guys."
"It has been forever," Dorcas corrects. "You need to talk to the paeds chief and swap your rota so you have more time off when we do."
"I’ll get right on that, Cas," Lily rolls her eyes, sitting back down. "My sincerest apologies that I haven’t worked my shifts accordingly to match all of your social lives."
"Get right on it, Evans," Barty says, "You miss too many evenings here. It’s essential for your mental health, y’know."
Lily narrows her eyes at them. "I feel like all you four do is shift work, go out for lunch and fuel your borderline alcoholic disorders."
"Obviously," Evan replies, scoffing, "What else is there to do with life? Can’t be all work and no play."
"There is no better way to wind down after 50 hour weeks than to get black out drunk," Barty adds.
Lily tilts her head, "And what would your patients say if they saw you all knocking back tequila like water?"
"They’d say 'Wow, what a unit! Doctor’s are so much more fun than nurses!'" Barty cheers, tone confident and mocking. He shoulder bumps Evan when the blonde glares at his comment about nurses.
"Right!" Barty claps his heads, "Drinks! Usuals, my lovers?"
When the three of them nod, Barty is running to the bar like a race gun has gone off.
Regulus sits down next to Dorcas, frowning when he finds her smirking at him.
"Can I help you, Meadows?"
"Taking an evening off to spend time with your best friends, Black?"
"I literally never miss a night out unless I’m on a shift and yet you all seem surprised I turn up?" Regulus frowns. "Why does everyone expect me to ditch you all?"
"Because you’re a grumpy loser who spends all of his free time studying."
Regulus looks around at the girls, "Do you all expect me to become a surgeon without studying?"
"Darling, you work too much."
Huffing, Regulus rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it - mostly because he knows they’re right but isn’t going to give them the verbal confirmation.
When Barty comes back, he practically slides onto Mary’s lap before she shoves him right off with impressive strength and he takes his appropriate spot in-between Evan and Pandora. It’s a tight fit, all eight of them and in the already hot and stuffy club, it would be unbearable if the atmosphere wasn’t making it entirely worth it.
Bright lights flicker and flash around them. Music plays blaring through the speakers, contributing to the buzzing alcohol thrumming through their systems.
"Oi!" Barty shouts, breaking all the conversations at the table suddenly. He has a mischievous glint in his eyes when they momentarily dart towards Regulus, making the latter’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Nothing good has ever come of Barty having that expression. The last time he wore it he ended up roping Regulus and Evan into going to a casino drunk out of their minds at 4am after spending hours drinking at the Leaky. "Has everyone heard about Regulus' super fun week?"
"Barty," Regulus warns, eyes hardening into a glare but it only seems to spur his friend on more.
Barty’s grin only grows as he dismisses Regulus with a tut and looks back at everyone.
"Official information was confirmed this week. Reggie-kins here likes to sleep with his students!"
Regulus has to refrain from throwing his drink over Barty there and then. So much for best friends. The drunk evil shit.
"I'm going to kill you," Regulus growls, moments away from jumping out of his seat and strangling Barty when the girls start laughing.
"Regulus Black!" Mary roars, "You saucy devil!"
"It's not— that is not what happened!" Regulus snaps. "I do not sleep with my students. I don't even have students."
"You don't get assigned students because you're a walking spawn of satan," Dorcas laughs.
Regulus closes his eyes in despair. They’re not going to let this go tonight. It’s going to be the highlight of all conversations, he can feel it like a apprehension in his gut.
"They were Euphemia's student that I looked after because she's horrible and decided to spend the day in with ugly babies," Regulus grumbles.
"Ah, so you sleep with Euphemia's students," Mary grins, nodding. "Because that is so much better."
"I didn't even know he was a med student!" Regulus almost shouts. "We met months ago, slept together once, and then I had to mentor him for one shift for Euphemia. End of story."
"No, no, no," Marlene laughs, shaking her head and holding up a finger to silence him. "That's not the end of story! Who is this guy? Was he good in bed? Are you going to meet again? Did you reconcile your love on the romantic neuro ward? Details, Black! We want details!"
"McKinnon," Regulus hisses, "Seriously, I will actually kill y—"
"Wait," Dorcas says, blinking. "Are we talking about that Frank guy you mentored this week?"
"You slept with Frank?" Lily gasps, jaw dropping open comically. "As in Longbottom?"
Regulus groans, "Evans, I swear to God if you know him—"
"Of course I know him!" Lily beams. "He did some paediatric placement earlier this year. Oh, he's lovely!"
"For fuck sake," Regulus moans, dropping his face in his hands. "Donne-moi une putain de force. Je vous déteste tous tellement (Give me fucking strength. I hate all of you so much)."
"He's lovely, Black," Mary mocks, tone teasing and sickly sweet. "Was he so lovely when he was ploughing into you that special summer night?"
Barty and Evan's laughing had Regulus lifting his head enough to glare at them underneath his eyelashes.
"Regulus isn't interested in Frank," Dorcas scoffs, hand clapping him on the back where he's hunched himself over the table in the hope he would disappear. "Isn't that right, little star? Your dick is too focused on pining after James."
Well done, Dorcas. If tonight couldn’t get any worse. It just went from colossal, to nuclear bomb.
Silence falls around the table like someone's turned off the volume button.
"James?" Barty echos, now frowning.
"Who the fuck is James?" Evan adds, voice high with excitement. When no one explains, he adds, "Regulus, you little whore, answer us!"
Can people stop calling me a whore?
"James," Dorcas starts, because Regulus refuses to lift his head. His cheeks feel hot and he knows he's blushing, and not just from the drink. He hates this. He hates them all. He hates how his heart has sped up. He wants them to go back to talking about his rendezvous with Frank. "Is a little birdy who's been bringing ickle Regulus here expensive coffees and lunch almost everyday for the last few weeks."
It's actually been over a month, Regulus wants to correct, but he doesn't even have a chance to open his mouth before the table erupts into more chaos.
"Regulus!" Barty practically screams, voice shrill and loud. "How could you keep this from us? Why have we not heard about this James before?"
"There is no James," Regulus grumbles, finally lifting his head. "Don't listen to Dorcas. She's lying—"
"I am not!" Dorcas gasps. "Don't bullshit everyone, Black. You are in smitten—"
"I am not!"
"You are," Dorcas smiles, "Don't be ashamed, my dear. You guys should see him too, James is absolutely whipped for our Regulus. I've never seen someone look at Regulus like the sun shines out of his ass."
Regulus opens his mouth to object he doesn't even manage to get a word out before Dorcas is using one arm to wind round his chest, locking his arms down with undeniable strength and slapping her hand over his mouth. His eyes widen comically, body bucking to shake her off and screaming muffled behind her hand. She doesn't even flinch, face still split with a wide smile.
Evan looks genuinely confused. "What Regulus are we talking about? Because there is no way anyone thinks the sun shines out of your ass."
Regulus bites Dorcas' hand and she pulls away with a sharp yelp.
"Fuck you," he spits at Evan.
"He’s getting mean, guys," Barty hollers. "That means it’s true!"
"Fuck you too."
"You wound me, Black."
"You bit me!" Dorcas shouts.
"Is this who has gotten you into caramel lattes?" Pandora asks, eyes wide.
Regulus gives her a pointed look when Evan squeaks next to her.
"Have you got his number?" Mary asks. "Please tell me you're going to actually meet him outside of work, Regulus."
"He does have his number," Dorcas says, completely unfazed by the glare Regulus shoots her with. "James gave it to him on a coffee cup."
Regulus groans as he flops his head back against the booth wall. He mutters, "Dorcas, you are dead to me."
"Love you too, little star."
"Have you text him?" Marlene asks.
"No."
"Are you going to?" Pandora adds.
"No."
"Do you want to?" Evan throws in.
"No!"
"Lies!" Barty roars.
Regulus lifts his head and snaps, "Si vous ne vous taisez pas, je vais cracher dans chacun de vos verres toute la nuit! (If you guys don't shut up I am going to spit in every single one of your drinks all night!)"
"I love it when you talk dirty to us, Regulus," Mary purrs, fluttering her eye lashes.
Regulus huffs, rolling his eyes.
"Tas de chattes irritantes (Irritating bunch of twats)."
"Stop insulting us in French!" Barty shouts, jabbing his finger over the table at him, "You know we can't understand. Be a man and say it with your chest!"
"Mourir."
"I know that one!" Evan laughs.
"What did he say?" Barty asks, and when Evan only chuckles at him, he whines, "Evan! Tell me!"
"He said he loves you."
Barty narrows his eyes. "He did not say that."
"No," Regulus hums, taking a sip of his drink. "I did not. Meadows, with me now. We need shots and you are going to buy them for the stunt you just pulled."
"Stunt?" She echoes, feigning an frown despite her lips twitching as she fight a smirk. "What stunt, my little star?"
"Up. Now."
Regulus grabs her wrist and yanks her up into standing with him before leashing her to the bar. There is a decent enough of a que that the bartenders are busy but Regulus still finds an empty spot and has to restrain himself from collapsing his head and arms on the bar top in exhaustion from the teasing from the group. The bar is always sticky, and Regulus has ruined many sleeves from previous nights of forgetting to not saturate his clothing in the spilled drinks on the bar top.
"James really get you that flustered, star boy?" Dorcas asks, and for the first time tonight her tone isn't teasing, but instead curious.
Regulus grunts, staring at a knot in the wooden bar. "Of course he doesn't."
"Of course, he does," Dorcas shoulder bumps him, resting her head against his a moment later. "It's a not a weakness to like someone, darling."
"I don't like him."
"Of course."
"I don't."
"That why you saved his number?"
"I wanted it incase I needed to get hold of Euphemia and she doesn't answer her own phone."
"Ah," Dorcas chuckles softly, "because that makes total sense."
"It does," Regulus nods stiffly. "What's your poison tonight? Strongbow or pornstar?"
"Pornstar," Dorcas grins. "For me and for Marlene, and I believe Mary will drink anything that contains vodka."
"Vodka, gin, battery acid," Regulus muses, "Mary will take anything that makes her feel less sober."
Dorcas laughs, "Don't let Mary hear you say that. Are you getting shots?"
"Tequila?"
"I was thinking along the lines of sambuca."
Regulus side eyes her, "This is why I brought you and not Evan."
"Rosy is a darling but he is afraid of shots like Barty is scared of the dark."
"Are you surprised? Getting alcohol poisoning from drinking black sambuca straight from the bottle in university has scarred him."
"I love that story," Dorcas says. "Every time you guys talk about your university days it made me realise mine were incredibly boring."
"Surprised we're not stuck up prudes who always drink out of champagne flutes?" Regulus asks.
"More so about you," she smiles, "You radiate rich, snotty boy energy. Don't get me wrong, you're still a crude mean bitch, but you're also a lot of fun. It's very confusing."
Regulus laughs, the emotion punched out of his chest like a physical blow. "So kind, Meadows. Glad to be confusing."
"I didn't know you before university, of course," she muses, "I've heard plenty from Evan and Barty on how much you've changed. They brought you out of your shell, and who knew you'd be more wild than them."
"I'm not wild."
"No, you're very contained," she agrees, "But you can be wild, when you loosen your leash."
"You're making me sound like a dog."
She squeezes his shoulder, "Order our drinks, sweetheart. The bartender is looking at you like you're something to eat."
When they get back to the table, Mary and Barty are having an arm wrestle across the table while Evan, Marlene and Pandora have moved the glasses out of the way of the pending carnage about to come from wherever wins.
Mary wins. Barty says he let her, because he's a gentleman. Mary steals his tequila shot and Evan gives his to Barty, which is disgustingly sweet and has both Regulus and Dorcas gagging into their cocktails.
At some point, Regulus and Barty go outside for a smoke. The night air is chilled, but the alcohol keeps the heat seeping through their muscles. It’s early enough into the evening that the smoking area is empty par from another pair standing in the opposite corner.
"Why didn’t you tell me about James?" Barty asks after a few minutes of smoking in silence.
Regulus should have known the question was coming. Barty was being too silent, too quiet. Even sober, Barty wouldn’t have been content with standing in a peaceful serenity while they smoked, and drunk Barty would never. The lack of conversation should have had Regulus prepared.
He wasn’t prepared though, so when Barty finally did ask, Regulus felt thrown off guard.
Looking up from where he was staring unfocused at a crack in the paving slab, Regulus blinks at him.
He breathes out a lung of smoke before he answers, "There wasn’t anything to tell. Still isn’t, in fact."
"Reg," Barty murmurs. He looks shockingly sober suddenly, a whip-lashing change from the hysterically laughing and flushed cheek friend Regulus was sitting across from inside. "There clearly is something."
Regulus closes his eyes with a huff, moments away from throwing his arms up like a frustrated child.
"Dorcas spilled all the beans," he assures Barty. "He comes into work to see his mum and has started bringing me coffee when she’s in too. He’s too nice. Really, it’s actually infuriating. I can’t upset him, no matter how mean I am, it’s like his body doesn’t register when he’s being insulted."
"Is he clinically insane?" Barty laughs. "Half of the hospital staff run away when you simply look at them."
"Exactly," Regulus takes a greedy toke from the cigarette, breathing it out with a hint of a sigh.
"Do me and Evan need to bring in the big guns?" Barty asks. "You know we will. Regulus Black’s personal body guards to the rescue."
Regulus raises an eyebrow. "You’re a doctor now, Crouch. Don’t think they would like you and Evan beating up a visiter in the hospital. Kind of defeats the object of duty of care."
"Don’t be dim, I wouldn’t do it in the hospital," Barty scoffs. "But seriously, if this guy is bothering you and it starts going weird, you know me and Evan have your back. After all, that little twat in second year never touched you again after me and Evan had a chat with them."
"A chat?" Regulus asks. "Is that what you’re calling it now? Kid got sent home with two broken arms and trauma so bad he became a psychiatrists wet dream."
"Went full circle then, didn’t?" Barty grins wolfishly. "Got the creepy dude away from you, and helped the economy by potentially sending him to counselling."
Regulus rolls his eyes. "You don’t need to do that to James. He’s. . . harmless."
Barty stares at him for a moment. And then suddenly, his eyebrows pinch inwards.
"You like him."
"I do not," Regulus replies quickly. His skin feels hot and he hopes it’s the alcohol. "I simply enjoy getting free coffee."
Barty’s face splits slowly with a grin. "No, you like him."
"Barty—"
"My Reggie!" He cheers, and Regulus bristles at the nickname. "My little Reggie-poo is in—"
"Don’t call me that."
Barty roars as he throws an arm around Regulus’ shoulders and pulls him into a suffocating side hug.
"You’re a naughty boy, Reggie-winkle. Falling in love with your bosses son? Scandalous!"
"I’m not— will you stop—"
"Never did I ever think we’d see the day!"
Regulus throws Barty’s arm off, glaring at him with a look that could kill.
"If you keep going on about this, I will rip your jugular vein out and stomp on it while you die from blood loss."
"Kinky," Barty winks, unfazed by the gory threat. "Tell me, does James know you have a foul mouth?"
"I’m going to kill Dorcas," Regulus mutters as he walks away.
Barty meets him at the door, slinging an arm around his shoulder as they walk inside.
"Shots?" He asks.
"Always," Regulus huffs. He’s more than desperate now to drown his sorrows in tequila like the days when they were at university.
When Barty skips off to drag Evan to the bar, Regulus slinks back towards the table. Pandora gives him sympathetic eyes as he drops down beside her.
Wordlessly, she slides her martini towards him.
"They’re ripping you limb from limb this evening, aren’t they?" She asks as Regulus finishes off her drink in a few sips.
"Only a smidge," he grunts. "Do me a favour, bring up some drama in your life so they’ll leave me alone?"
"No can do, my treasure," she smiles, "I’m an open book. Plus, nothing anyone can be doing at the moment tops your situation."
"It’s not a situation."
"It’s something, though, isn’t it?"
Regulus looks away, mostly because he can fool the others with insults and crude threats, but Pandora can read him like no one else. One look and she’ll probably understand more about Regulus and James than Regulus does.
That’s the hardest part, really. Regulus doesn’t even understand what this 'something' is. He doesn’t know when or why or how he came to start enjoying the irritating boys company. He doesn’t know why James occupies his brain, or why he fills Regulus' thoughts.
James makes his heart speed up. He makes Regulus nervous, makes him jittery. His laugh makes Regulus’ spine feel like it’s got a ball rolling down it, making him shiver. Just seeing him makes every nerve ending in Regulus’ body feels like they’re set on fire. He’s like a breath of fresh air when the ward get’s too stuffy, or a secure blanket of warmth when it gets too cold.
Regulus has never looked at someone and feel like he does until James. The walls, the defences, the egotistical persona Regulus has built around himself since running from his parents feels like it cracks every time James comes close. It’s like he can see past the defence mechanisms already. As if he already knows that beneath the glares, harsh scowls, the blazing self confidence, he can see the Regulus beneath that’s terrified of living still.
Regulus hates that.
It doesn’t take long to feel the buzz of tequila and espresso martini’s again. Soon, the atmosphere of Leaky comes alive. Alcohol travels through the moisture in the air. Regulus doesn’t remember getting to the dance floor and he's lost count of the drinks they’ve all consumed, but he gets a suspicious feeling that they’re giving him more than they’re drinking themselves. The club sways and spins around him, but he manages to embrace the vertigo feeling when they’re all dancing. Dorcas requests for Lady Gaga's song Love Game, as she does every time and her and Regulus practically climb on top of their table booth to sing it.
At some point, Evan loses his shirt, so Barty and Mary do body shots off him that has Regulus and Dorcas laughing to the point they both end up toppling on the floor. Pandora records the whole thing, and Regulus makes a drunken mental note to ask her to delete that immediately in the morning. He’ll be damned, drunk off his ass or not, if anyone has videos of him rolling around on a dirty club floor.
The hours bleed together. Barty, Evan, Mary and Marlene have a dance off in the middle of the dance floor that ends up involving a handful of strangers. Regulus was easily placing bets on Mary and Marlene winning until Barty and Evan spiritually find the embodiment of pole dancers inside them and thoroughly wiped the floor with the girls.
They all find themselves outside. Dorcas steals a cigarette off Regulus but she only manages to take two puffs of it before Mary is spewing up all over the floor. Barty is howling with laughter and Evan looks sickly pale at the sight as the girls drag Mary inside to the toilet. Pandora takes Evan in when he won’t stop staring at the pile of sick, slowly getting more and more ashen to the point that Regulus is concerned he’s going to add to the mess.
Regulus leans against the wall, head back and eyes closed as he smokes. He’s vaguely aware of Barty chatting to the strangers next to them, and he zones back into the focus of the world when he feels someone poke his shoulder.
He blinks at Barty hazily. "Yes?"
"Pottery."
Regulus blinks again. He feels like his brain has just buffered.
"What?"
"Pottery," Barty repeats. "Want to go pottery painting?"
"Have you been spiked?"
"No!" Barty laughs. "I mean it, Pandora talks about it all the time. She goes to this place in Camden market and paints pottery. It’s where she gets all her cool mugs from!"
Regulus narrows his eyes. "And you, Bartemius Crouch, want to go pottery painting?"
"Hell yeah!" Barty cheers. "Don’t you?"
Regulus breathes out a breath of smoke before he grins, loopy and drunk. "Fuck yeah. When?"
Regulus is aware they’re both slurring and grinning like idiots. Barty is barely standing, swaying from side to side and loose fingers threatening to drop his cigarette at any second. Regulus knows he’d be the same if he wasn’t using the wall as support.
"Tomorrow?" Barty asks, and suddenly his face lights up, "We can invite James!"
"My James?"
"Yes!" Barty roars, practically jumping up and down. "It will be so fun! And plus, we’ll all get to meet him!"
"Barty," Regulus whines, high-pitched and childish. "You can’t meet James. You’ll scare him off. He’s too nice. He’s like a small puppy."
"Come on," Barty drawls, "He needs proper initiation if he’s going to get the hottest piece of ass in the whole of London! Only the best for our Reggie, and we’re the best judges of that."
Regulus whines again, but Barty isn’t having any of it.
"Plus, there is nothing more romantic than pottery."
Regulus rolls his eyes. "You need help if you think pottery is the most romantic form of attraction."
"Are you saying you don’t want to paint some mugs while staring at his lovely face?"
"You haven’t even seen him. You don’t know he’s lovely."
"I trust your judgment when it comes to attractiveness."
Regulus hums, lips twitching into a smile. "He is lovely. Unfairly, actually. He’s very pretty."
"Then he must come to pottery!" Barty declares. "Text him now."
"M’fine," Regulus huffs. "This is peer pressure, y’know."
"Shut up and text your pretty boy."
Regulus tries. He does, but his fingers refuse to work properly. It takes him a whole minute to just find James’ number and text him.
Regulus (02:56) do you want to com to pottery wit ne?
"He’s probably sleeping," Regulus pouts, taking another cigarette out.
"Give him a minute," Barty slurs, lighting his own as well. "If he doesn’t reply, we can phone him."
"What if we wake him up?"
"This is an emergency."
"It is?"
"Yes, a pottery emergency."
It’s not funny, but somehow Regulus and Barty are doubled over chuckling. Time feels indifferent, and Regulus is sure at least 10 minutes has passed before he sends another text.
Regulus (02:59)wake yp this is a emrrgenvy
"He's not answering," Regulus whines, and Barty bumps into him to look at his phone screen. "I can't believe he's asleep!"
"Phone him," Barty nods, lips pursed. "Phone him. This is serious."
Regulus nods, and fumbles with the buttons.
It rings long enough to almost go to voicemail, and on the last ring, it answers.
"Hello?" A groggy, deep and sleep-riddled voice comes through.
"James!" Regulus squeaks. "How are you?"
"Uh, who is this?"
"Regulus?" He frowns. "Have you forgotten me already?"
A beat of silence passes. "Doctor Black?"
"Yes! You do remember me! Barty, he remembers me!"
"Let me speak to him!" Barty shouts at the same time that James' rumble of a laugh goes straight into Regulus' ear.
"So that's your first name," James muses. "Regulus Black. It's lovely."
"He says my name is lovely," Regulus says to Barty, and his cheeks hurt from smiling. Barty huffs in reply and makes grabby hands at the phone, which has Regulus twisting away from him to avoid and asks, "Were you asleep?"
"It's three in the morning," James laughs. He has a nice laugh, Regulus wants to tell him. "Of course I was asleep. Why aren't you asleep?"
"You ignored me texts," Regulus says, and he's pouting as if James can see him.
"You haven't text me?" James replies. "Wait, it's really loud were you are. Are you—"
"Yes I did!" Regulus whines, brain not registering that James was half way through asking him a question. "You ignored them. It's an emergency too!"
"What's wrong?" James sounds concerned now. "Reg, what’s—"
"Read the texts! They're important!" Barty shouts, and James must hear him.
"Who is that?" James asks, then he adds hastily, "I'll read the texts now. Stay on the line. Don't hang up!"
"Perfect," Regulus breathes, he side eyes Barty, "he's reading the texts now."
After a moment, a soft chuckle comes through.
"Please tell me the emergency is going to pottery and not because you're in trouble somewhere?"
"Of course that's the emergency," Regulus slurs a garbled reply, because isn't that obvious? "You weren't replying, and me and Barty need to know if you can come or not."
"Barty?"
"My body guard."
James sounds like he's choking for a moment.
"Body guard?" He repeats. "You need a body guard?"
"Of course," Regulus physically nods. "He fends off the predators."
"Right, okay," James laughs. "I feel like I should be concerned about that. Are you alright though? I'm guessing you're out considering I can hear lots of noise and music around you. You're safe, yeah?"
"James, emergency on hand here, stop stalling. Will you come to pottery with us?"
Regulus doesn't get to hear James' answer, because suddenly the phone is snatched out of his hand with such force that it sends him unsteadily stumbling to the side.
"James, this is Barty," Barty is suddenly saying, phone against his ear. He winks at Regulus, and his words are more slurred and messy than Regulus'. "Yes, the body guard. You better remember that if you're infiltrating yourself with our Regulus."
"Barty, give me back my phone!" Regulus grumbles, reaching for it only for Barty to twist away.
"Don't feign innocence!" Barty shouts at the phone, "I know he's a hot piece of meat everyone wants a slice of, which is why you need to participate in your initiation. . . Yes, were we will all judge if you are the best person for our Regulus. . . The pottery, obviously. . . Don't be stupid, of course we'll feel well enough to go to pottery class tomorrow morning. Who do you think we are? We're London's finest! We don't get hangovers! Do we, Reg?"
"Give me my phone," Regulus growls, and when Barty doesn't, Regulus grabs his chest and gives him a very mature nipple twist until Barty is screaming high pitched enough to shatter a wine glass. Regulus snatches the phone back, breathless suddenly with victory.
"James! Hello, me again. Sorry about Barty, ignore him. However, pottery?"
James is laughing on the other end. Regulus is starting to get impatient. This is the longest it's taken him to convince someone to do something as mundane as pottery. Why isn't James saying yes yet?
"Yes," James says, tone soft and fond and silky as velvet. "I'll come to pottery class. What time?"
"We haven't figured that out yet," Regulus answers, because now he thinks of it, they hadn't actually got that far into planning this escapade.
"Meet us at Reg's apartment!" Barty shouts, chin practically smacking the end of the phone to Regulus' ear. "He'll send you the address!"
"Okay," James replies with a breathless laugh. "You sure you're able to text? Your last ones weren't very accurate in your wording."
"Shut up, if you'd drank as much as us tonight you wouldn't even be standing right now," Regulus grumbles.
"How much have you drank?" James asks.
"Enough to put a heavy weight in hospital."
"That's. . . incredibly reassuring," James sighs, and he doesn't sound as impressed as Regulus was hoping. "Please be safe tonight, your bodyguard still there?"
Regulus looks at Barty, who's making immature gestures with his mouth and hands at Regulus.
Regulus rolls his eyes and says to James, "Yes, unfortunately he is still present."
James just laughs at him again. Regulus doesn't think anyone has ever found him so amusing before.
"Okay. Good. Text me your address," James says. "It's nice to finally hear from you, even if it is when you're clearly very drunk."
"Thank Barty for this," Regulus replies. "He's the one who suggested bringing you to pottery class."
"Well, I'll be sure to thank Barty."
"Not in sexual favours, though."
"No! Fuck— what?" James cries indignantly, "Regulus, no, why?"
"Just checking. He's making blowjob gestures at me right now," Regulus shrugs. His words are still so garbled together he's surprised James is even understanding him at this point.
"Lovely," James chuckles. "Be safe tonight. I'll see you tomorrow, text me if you change your mind though."
"Yes, sir. Good night, sleep well, don't let the bed bugs bite!"
"Good night, Regulus."
Regulus doesn't know if he manages to hang up the phone or if James does it on his end, but he doesn't get a moment to process what the fuck just happened before Barty is jumping on him.
"Reggie and James sitting in a tree!" He sings, loud and jarring and tone deaf.
"Barty!" Regulus shrieks, pushing back at his friend and unlocking his phone again. "I need to send him my address!"
"I'll do it!" Barty says, swiping the phone. "If you do it, you'll manage to sober up enough to change your mind and this would all be for nothing!"
"All be. . . huh?"
"Hush, my angel," Barty murmurs, placing a finger on Regulus' lips to silence him. "Just trust me."
"Never done me anything good doing that."
"So cynical."
When they find Pandora and Evan again, the pair are on the dance floor holding everyone's drinks. Apparently the girls have gone home, because Mary became concerningly paralytic after throwing up and needed some sleep.
The four of them keep dancing and drinking. Regulus feels transported back to his university days, when it was just the four of them going out and crawling home at ungodly times in the morning dragging their tired feet from dancing for hours on end.
Pandora leads them all out just before The Leaky closes. She tugs Regulus onto her back, and if he was sober he would be embarrassed that she can easily give him a piggy back. Evan and Barty are skipping ahead until Barry's leg gives way on the curb and he goes rolling over, trying to drag Evan with him. Crying in hysterics, Evan has to practically help Barty walk the rest of the way home.
"Barty is staying with you tonight," Pandora says.
"Alright," Regulus murmurs against her neck where he's slumped over her back. "Why?"
"Because I can't be asked to try and get him home," she laughs. "I've never seen him this drunk."
"Enfant idiot ivre. Il ne peut même pas marcher tout seul (Silly drunk child. Can't even walk on his own)," Regulus murmurs.
Pandora laughs, tightening her grip on his legs. "I have no idea what you just said, but I'm sure it wasn’t complimenting."
Regulus chuckles halfheartedly. "Just to clarify, if you put me down I would be able to walk just fine on my own."
"I know," Pandora turns her head slightly so Regulus can see her grin. "But I want to carry you. It’s easy, plus the fact you’re going to severely kick yourself tomorrow when you’re sobered up over it."
"Wow. Thanks."
After a few more minutes of walking - or in Regulus’ case, being carried - Pandora speaks again.
"Did you have a good night?" She asks. She’s speaking softly, despite the two ahead of them being loud enough that they probably wouldn’t hear Pandora even if she was shouting.
Regulus hums in affirmation. "Did you?"
"Yes. It’s been a good day, actually."
"Felt like it wasn’t even today that we went shopping," Regulus hums again.
Pandora chuckles softly. "Time flies when you’re having fun."
"I hate that saying, you know."
"You hate anything remotely optimistic."
"C'est exact, ma fleur (That is correct, my flower)."
"I love measuring how drunk you are based on how much your French accent comes back."
"It does not."
"It does. You sound more French at the moment than you do English."
"Va te faire foutre (Fuck off)."
Regulus doesn’t remember them getting to and into his flat, but suddenly he’s going from being comfortably draped over Pandora’s back to being launched onto the sofa. He lands with a groan, flopping against the cushions and looking up to see Pandora looking down at him disapprovingly.
"You’re not even going to put me to bed?" Regulus asks.
Pandora smiles softly at him. "If you want the bed, you get up and go to the bed. I still have to get Evan home yet."
"Is he not staying?"
"You know Evan," she shakes her head. "No matter how late or how drunk, the boy will not sleep anywhere other than his own bed after a night out. Pretty sure he’s got an ego-thing about people seeing how hungover he gets trying to keep up with you and Barty."
"That’s because no one can keep up with me and Barty."
"Of course," she muses, brushing his hair off his forehead affectionately. "Evan has put Barty on the floor, by the way. He’s already asleep, so don’t worry about him."
"Wasn’t going too," Regulus mumbles. "Bloody flat crasher."
Pandora hums at him. "Evan has got you both water. We’ll leave them in arms reach. Sleep well, and stay on your side. No choking on vomit in the night."
"Oui mère (Yes, mother)," Regulus mumbles. "Have fun getting Evan home. Je t'aime chérie (Love you, darling)."
She places a kiss on his forehead. "Je t'aime plus (Love you more)."
"Bye, Reggie!" Evan shouts, walking past him with a gaiting stumble. He swings to clearly smack Regulus in the head, but misses and ends up smacking the back of the sofa cushions.
"Come on now, Rosy," Pandora laughs. "You home next."
Regulus is asleep before he hears the front door close.
The first thing Regulus is aware of when he sluggishly crawls to consciousness is that his mouth feels drier than a drought in a desert. That, and the rhythmic pounding in his temples.
Regulus doesn’t often get hangovers. Normally, he can go out on a night out drinking and wake up the next day just a few levels down from normal and fresh. He can thank his father for that, because the only good thing the man ever passed down to Regulus was the older mans immaculate drinking skills.
Clearly though, today is not one of those glorious days where Regulus can spring from his bed feeling a little bit tired but otherwise fine.
No. Oh no, no. Instead, he doesn’t even need to open his eyes or move a muscle to know that his body is in serious danger of rejecting the last sources of life inside of it.
Keeping his eyes shut in the hope he will drift back to unconsciousness and sleep off the mistakes he’s done to his body, Regulus grasps at the wisps of drowsiness still fogging his mind.
At least, that is until a shrill and hoarse voice shouts out.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Regulus’ eyes snap open. His vision instantly flicks down to Barty, who’s laid out sprawled on the floor with nothing but a blanket thrown over him. It takes him an extended minute to realise Barty is looking across the room. When Regulus looks too, his brain stops short as if the circuit has been cut.
James Potter is standing on the other side of his living room.
— tbc.