carpe diem

9

If someone told Regulus two months ago that by the middle of November he'd be transpiring in daily texts to someone other than Barty, Evan or Pandora, he would have laughed in their face and had them running away from him with tears in their eyes.

In the four weeks since Regulus' drunken phone call, him and James have actually only met up again twice since he picked Regulus up from his shift over the period he was studying with Pandora, all due to Regulus' hectic work schedule and spending his one longer stretch of time off with the group celebrating Barty’s 25th birthday (the birthday celebrations actually only lasted one night out, but a day before and a day after was spent comforting Barty as he had a pretty literal crisis over turning 25).

One of those times James managed to find time when Regulus was off, he’d text Regulus to ask if he could come over after finding out that Regulus hadn't seen the Jaws films. James had turned up at his flat before Regulus had even confirmed he was home, DVD's in hand and his favourite Chinese takeaway ready to be called and ordered. His face had been as if Regulus had run over his dog, clearly personally offended that Regulus hadn't watched what he considered were 'the best masterpiece filmography of their time'. Regulus had been subjected to almost eight hours of shark movies that had literally taken them the rest of the day and all night to get through. James' kicked puppy look only grew more devastated when Regulus refused to gush to the older boys degree about how 'immaculate and fantastic' the movies were. Regulus had said they were enjoyable but certainly not up to the hype James raved about.

If Regulus has watched the movies numerous times since, that’s for him to know and nobody else.

James has also come to the hospital multiple times to make up for all the time he's not able to see Regulus outside of his work. That feels normal, at least. James stalking him and work and forcing free coffee on him? Regulus been putting up with that for months. The only difference now, is that his heart picks up a bit whenever he sees James making his way down the ward or hears his voice by the reception desk when Regulus is standing in one of the ward bays with a patient. James hangs round the ward for longer now, seeming not afraid of Regulus telling him to piss off and doesn't even hide it when he's coming in to see Regulus and not Euphemia anymore. One day, he came in with one latte and a sandwich and gave to Regulus, clearly forgetting his mother was on shift too. Regulus was sure his face was burning just as much as James'.

Regulus is still surprised James has stuck around this long. Anyone else would have told Regulus to get lost by now and that he’s not worth the trouble he gives. Regulus knows he's not the nicest person, and he doesn't even bother hiding it. Which is probably why he doesn't have a lot of friends, and those he has made the friendships started because they couldn't get away from him: either through dorm room/student house sharing for four years (Barty and Evan) or working together (Dorcas and Mary). The only close friend Regulus has got that has seemed him out since the beginning is Pandora, and for some unknown reason to all, she has managed to wedge herself into Regulus' life with no regrets and doubts.

Texting James is an unusual experience, to put it mildly. Clearly being out of work is leaving the older male painfully unoccupied and bored as he spends every waking moment of the day texting Regulus. The content of his messages ranges from random nonsense to his personal film and TV critics to hourly updates on his truly riveting daily experiences. James has clearly taken it upon himself to make sure Regulus is aware of what he is doing every moment of the day, even going as far once to update Regulus that the bathroom in his flat was so cold he hadn’t taken been to the loo for a whole day because the toilet seat was too cold. Regulus was so horrified when he read the text that he took a brisk trip to the mess room on shift to phone James and tell him to never inform him of that information again. Since then, James has thankfully stopped sending Regulus updates on his toilet trips and instead just stuck to the mindless waffle and his opinions on movies his flat mate makes him watch in the evenings.

Regulus has also come to learn that James has a very strict and religious sleep schedule. Apparently as someone who struggled with insomnia and nocturnal sleeping patterns growing up as a child, James treats his bedtime and waking up time with as much precision as a dietician would take consideration of their meals nutritional value. While the time James manages to get to bed frequently seems to vary, he always seems to rise at seven AM every morning. Regulus had started waking up to good morning texts a few days after James gave him a lift home from the hospital, which at first entirely freaked him out so much he had to have a chat with Pandora if it’s normal for friends to do this. Pandora was entirely unhelpful and had the audacity to simply laugh at Regulus and offer him no fragment of advice as to if it is normal. All she did was pat Regulus’ shoulder and ask are you and James only friends though?

Regulus has not thought about that every moment of the day since.

No, he has not.

The result of James’ consistent texting has meant that Regulus knows many small facts about James that he didn’t really need to know. He’s learnt that James’ favourite sweets are these type of vegan candy kittens that he tried because one of his crew mates six months ago introduced him to them and he’s been addicted to them ever since.

He’s learnt that James truly becomes a nightmare in the flesh if he drinks more than three cups of coffee within a 24 hour period (the texts that day had Regulus on the verge of grabbing Euphemia from the ward and demanding she goes and ties down her son until the caffeine made its way out of his system).

He’s learnt that James’ best friend, the mysterious 'Padfoot' is a tattoo artist but when they were in Yorkshire at university, his best friend had a workshop and spent 14 hours solid painting to the point the fumes made him completely delirious.

He’s learnt that James has a personal vendetta against anyone who doesn’t like lemon muffins ('They’re simply impossible to not like, Regulus!).

He’s learnt that James refuses to use tumble dryers since an incident that occurred over four years ago that resulted in one of Remus' precious knitted jumpers being shrunk small enough to fit a small dog after James tumble dried it after borrowing it. Apparently this piece of important history is brought up often enough that James had to warn Regulus to never lend him anything unless he didn’t want it back in the same condition.

All small bits of useless information that Regulus has come to pleasantly anticipate the next round of.

Of course, James insists he isn’t bothered that the ratio of texts exchanged between them is vastly large. Regulus doesn’t often reply to the onslaught of texts he gets throughout the day, especially when he’s on shift and the general content of the texts is simply nonsense. James doesn’t mind. Apparently he’s simply content with using Regulus’ phone number as a form of a diary when he gets bored.

Regulus would be lying if he didn’t enjoy it.

He woke up this afternoon after laying in in preparation for his night shift to an onslaught of texts from James about his tennis match against Padfoot that morning. Apparently, they are that friendship group that go to tennis weekly and play overly passionate and competitive games of the sport. Regulus told him in a few years they'll all be playing golf, to which James replied telling him to piss off, we're not that old!

Regulus is an hour into his last night shift, typing up a prescription for a pain medication regime for a spine injury patient when his phone buzzes multiple times in his pocket.

James (21:11) regulus!!

James (21:11) SOS!!

James (21:11) this is an emergency reply asap

James (21:11) i repeat SOS

Heart instantly picking up, Regulus rushes to print the prescription before thrusting it into the nurses hand to give to the patient. He practically falls out of his chair before dashing down to the mess room.

Why is James sending an SOS? Regulus’ mind instantly goes to Remus. Perhaps something with his epilepsy, though in the back of Regulus’ mind, buried under the instant fog of panic, there is a nagging though that James is a paramedic so surely if it was something to do with Remus’ epilepsy James would know if something was an actual emergency.

Regulus is bursting into the mess room, not even checking if it’s empty before fumbling with his phone to ring James.

It’s then that he notices two more messages have come through.

James (21:13) regulus i can’t cope anymore

James (21:13) they sent pauline home!!!

And what?

Regulus freezes suddenly, staring down at the phone.

What the hell is James talking about?

Who the hell is Pauline?

What does—

Realisation hits Regulus like a truck. The panic washes out of him in an instant, instead replaced by an itching annoyance and white hot anger.

James fucking Potter.

Not even bothering to reply to the texts, Regulus swipes the name on the phone and brings it to his ear.

James picks up after two rings.

"Regulus!" James cries instantly. "The worst has happened, I can’t believe—"

"Potter, are you texting me SOS messages while I’m at work because of fucking Bake Off?" Regulus snaps.

The other end of the phone is silent for a pregnant pause. By the time James replies, Regulus is practically seething.

"I think it qualifies as a perfectly acceptable SOS," James insists, unbothered by Regulus' harsh tone. "It’s Pauline, Regulus! She was my favourite! She didn’t deserve to be sent home, she barely messed up on the show-stopper and—"

"James!" Regulus hisses impatiently, "I am at work, you bloody moron! Why are you texting SOS messages about stupid, fucking Pauline?"

"It was an unjustifiable result, Reggie," James replies. He doesn’t sound apologetic at all, instead his voice is thick with sadness he’s practically choking out the words. "I’m in despair!"

Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose hard enough to bruise. He forces himself to calm down, taking an exaggeratedly deep breath so heavy it’s practically a tsunami of a sigh.

"You’re unbelievable," Regulus whispers. "Tu es tellement incroyable. Je n'arrive pas à croire que j'ai permis à quelqu'un comme toi d'entrer dans ma putain de vie (You're so unbelievable. I can't believe I've allowed someone like you into my fucking life)."

"Didn’t understand a word of that, darling, but what is truly unbelievable is that Gary has stayed for another week and the precious Pauline hasn’t!" James cries again.

Regulus can picture him on the sofa right now: phone in hand and tears in his eyes over a bloody Bake Off contestant being sent home. Regulus didn’t even know he started watching the show, and his stomach feels weird at knowing that potentially James started watching it after that first Sunday together. He must be watching reruns, because Regulus knows the season just gone didn't have a Pauline in it.

"I’m having a crisis, Reg," James adds, "I can’t believe you made me start watching this! It’s making me more emotional than The Lion King!"

Regulus pauses, James' words sinking in slowly.

"James?" He starts.

James hums in reply, still sounding wounded.

"Do you cry at The Lion King?"

The other end of the line is silent for a moment while Regulus is trying to process the fact that he is giving time to someone who—

"Everyone cries when Mufasa dies!" James blurts, sounding sorely offended.

"James, it’s a children’s cartoon about lions."

"His dad gets trampled and he finds his dead body! What isn’t sad about that?" James replies, tone border-lining hysteria now. Regulus can’t hold back the scoff, to which seems to only urge James on even more and he adds, "Only the most heartless people don’t cry at that scene!"

"Did you just call me heartless?"

"I’m starting to question your moral compass if you don’t get choked up when Mufasa dies."

"Oh for fuck sake," Regulus sighs, rubbing an exasperated hand down his face. "Stop sending me SOS texts when I’m at work when it’s not bloody SOS worthy of any sort. Bake Off contestants being sent home doesn’t even constitute for a fraction of a kind of an emergency. Do it again and I will block your number."

"You wouldn’t!" James gasps.

"I would, now dry your eyes and stop bothering me at work."

"So mean."

"Grow thicker skin," Regulus grunts before he hangs up. His phone pings again before he’s even made it back to the reception desk.

James (21:22) please don’t actually bloke my number

Regulus (21:23) debating it now I know you cry at the lion king

James (21:23) heartless.

James (21:23) do you cry at anything?

Regulus (21:24) no

James (21:24) you must cry at those army videos

James (21:24) of the dads coming home and being reunited with their family’s

James (21:24) I refuse to believe you’re that stone cold that even THOSE don’t get you choked up because they make everyone cry

Regulus (21:25) never watched them. why would I purposely watch something sad?

James (21:25) because they’re beautiful!!!

Regulus (21:26) you just said they make everyone cry

James (21:26) something can be sad and beautiful at the same time

Regulus (21:27) I know. I see it every morning when I look in the mirror

James (21:27) REGULUS! </3

With that, Regulus slides his phone into his pocket in time to see Mary come strutting up to the reception desk.

"Never seen you spend so much time on your phone, Black," she says as she starts riffling through a set of files.

"It’s just Barty," Regulus replies as he taps onto the computer again. He still has to write up the notes on someones neurological exam he did over an hour ago. James is becoming a reoccurring distraction at the moment.

Mary hums, "And what does our darling Bartemius Crouch want? He’s not on shift, is he? Is he still having a quarter life crisis about being half way to 50?"

"No he’s not on shift, and no he’s not having a crisis anymore. Well, he brings it up at least three times a week still, and then proceeds to shout at us all when we don’t deny the clear fact that he is 25 years old now," Regulus replies. "He’s taking it quite hard still."

"He treats being 25 as a fucking death sentence."

"Aren’t you 26 next year?"

"Fuck off, Black," Mary grunts, "You’re still a foetus, but your time will come and when it does, we all know you’ll be the biggest drama queen about turning half a quarter."

Regulus chuckles. "Will it sooth the wound if I say you don’t look a day over 21?"

"You don’t need to tell me, I already know. The number of my age may not be on my side but my lack of wrinkles are," she winks, tucking a folder under her arm. "You on all night?"

"Till eight in the morning," Regulus nods. "You?"

"Half an hour," Mary grins. "Then I’m going home and drowning my sorrows in a brand new bottle of raspberry gin."

"Spoken like a true alcoholic."

Mary cuffs him round the back of the head before she’s walking off, clearly trying to fight a smirk.

Regulus writes his report on the neurological assessment, waves Mary off when she goes at just after 10, manages to convince Alex to do a coffee run before the cafe shuts at 10:30 and they have to resolve to instant out of the kettle for the rest of the night. James stops texting after 11:30, so Regulus assumed the older boy had managed to get to bed, and Regulus is not going to admit he missed the tsunami of texts bringing him some form of entertainment during the rest of his shift.

Nightshifts at hospital always go one of two ways: its either quiet to the point of boring and time moves as slow as smudge, or its manic and everyone leaves the shift late, run ragged and regretting their choices to ever join the profession. Tonight, Regulus was sure it was going to be the former. Apart from the speedy neurological exam on a clearly positive stroke patient, it was all sailing smoothly and Regulus even had time at 3:30AM to sit down with one of the new nurses and chat freely for over 40 minutes without being interrupted.

Of course, it all had to go wrong at some point.

First, one of the patients crashed in 407 and Regulus had to firstly perform CPR for 35 minutes to bring them back before rushing them into emergency surgery. Then, a trauma call came in down in emergency for a suicide jumper with spine and neck injuries that he had to go down to deal with. After that, with barely enough time to get back up to neuro ward, the patient he diagnosed with a stroke earlier in the night had another stroke, and it was actually calming down the wife that exhausted Regulus the most. And then to finally top it all off, an hour and a half before his shift was meant to end, Regulus got paged down to the children’s department because a nine year old child had been brought in via ambulance with stroke symptoms. After a gruelling 45 minute exam and blood tests, Regulus was able to safely say whatever was wrong with the child was not stroke-related, but he didn’t feel confident in signing them off so had to direct the skeleton crew of paediatric nurses to getting the sick child moved up to the children’s neuro ward so he could speak to the doctors up there - but of course, the one neuro doctor they had had phoned in sick and the next wasn’t coming in till 7:30. So Regulus had to wait, and by the time the fresh doctor came in and they’d discussed between them the concerns, Regulus didn’t make it back to the adult neuro ward till gone 8:20.

Dorcas was taking over the day shift, but a text on his phone that he reads on his way back to the neuro reception desk from her informed him she wasn’t going to make it in till nine because of the trains. Regulus wishes he could be annoyed, but he doesn’t think he has enough energy after the last six hours of work, so just replies to say it’s fine and he’ll stay.

Regulus had been so run off his feet the last six hours he didn’t even have time to think about how he’d felt a stupid loss at James’ lack of texts while he slept. He’s debating taking a snooze in the mess room before driving home. His eyes are itchy from tiredness and while he wants more coffee to help him through the next hour of his now extended shift, except the only thing in his system right now is coffee and the sugar in the caramel syrup is probably the only thing keeping his blood sugar from bottoming out and sending him into a coma.

It’s almost 9:30 when Dorcas comes in, and Regulus is stuck in a side room with a 26 year old that came in at the start of the night with a six minute seizure. She’s only staying in for a 48 hour check due to the length of the seizure, and Regulus is just telling her that the results from her blood works (albeit, they came back hours ago but Regulus was too distracted with mangled spines and hoax stroke symptoms to make it round to her to deliver a five minute speech), when the door opens and Dorcas, looking fresh though slightly flustered from the probably run she made to get to the ward with being late, walks in.

"Ah, Doctor Meadows," Regulus smiles tightly, "Good morning. You arrived just in time for me to assure Miss Williams here that her blood works have come back as expected," he looks back at the girl on the bed, who’s clutching her mother’s hand beside her like Regulus is about to deliver her a death sentence. "There is nothing alarming in your blood works. Your potassium levels are high as is your blood sugar, but those are standard when someone has had a seizure."

"Do I still have to stay?" The girl asks.

Regulus nods. "I would highly recommend staying for minimum the rest of the day, ideally another night as well. I appreciate you probably spend a fair amount of time in hospital due to your epilepsy, but this was your first seizure last lasted more than five minutes and combined with your meds being changed four weeks ago, I believe it would be smart to stay for some observations."

"She’s going to be alright though, right?" The mother asks.

Apart from live the rest of her life having seizures and never feeling like a normal person? "I’m not concerned, the blood works are another tick box in your favour. I don’t think this is anything out of the ordinary, but I can’t promise anything of course."

"Of course," the mother echoes with a smile.

"Right," Regulus nods, "Doctor Meadows is going to be your doctor for today. I can assure you that—"

"You’re not staying?"

Do the public think people who work in health care are fucking robots? Regulus wants to ask.

"My shift ended over an hour ago," Regulus says, swallowing down the urge to tell the patient to fuck off and let him go home.

"Is there no one else on today?"

Regulus blinks. His abdomen feels like a cold, heavy rock has replaced his stomach. "Pardon? Is there a problem—"

There’s a knock at the door, and a moment later, Alex is sticking her head in the door.

"I apologise," she begins, "Doctor Black, would you mind—"

"Can she be my doctor today?"

Regulus sighs heavily, "No, Alex is a nurse, not a doctor. Doctor Meadows is the—"

"I don’t want Doctor Meadows to be in charge of my care today," the girl says.

Regulus tucks the chart under his arm, flicking his eyes to the young girl.

"Is there a problem with Doctor Meadows?" He asks sharply.

The girl stammers, looking between them all.

"Do you have a problem with the colour of ones skin, Miss Williams?" Regulus asks.

He hears Dorcas inhale sharply behind him.

"Doctor Black—" she starts, but Regulus isn’t having it.

"I don’t understand how you can decide that the shade of Doctor Meadows’ skin has anything to do with her ability in her qualification but I can assure you that she is as, and if not more, capable than me to deliver you sufficient care today," Regulus snaps.

"My daughter has a right to choice," the mother starts, face looking mildly flushed with embarrassment. Good, Regulus thinks, you racist cunt. "Is she not allowed to choose her doctor?"

"Of course she is," Regulus nods. "But surely your choice should be based on the level of capability instead of the colour of ones skin, no?"

The girl at least has the decency to refuse to make eye contact anymore, instead seeming to find the blue blanket covering her legs far more interesting that the faces of the two doctors at the foot of her bed.

"We don’t tolerate racism in this hospital, so if you or your mother have got that much of a problem feel free to self-discharge and find somewhere else to be looked after," Regulus says, shoving the chart in the holder on the end of the bed with far more aggression than needed. "It’s 2022, and in my professional opinion, I highly suggest you both catch up with the appropriate level of diverse acceptance in this day and age otherwise you might yourselves on the receiving end of very unpleasant confrontations."

Silence settles over the room. Alex, still halfway through the door, looks more uncomfortable than she ever has done. Dorcas is silent behind him, and Regulus refuses to look back at her. He feels like he’s vibrating with anger. This is not what he needed at the end of the shift, and he’s surprised he’s managed to get through this entire ordeal without actually saying something to the mother or daughter that’s offensive enough to get him struck off the registrar without even a court hearing.

"Are we done here?" He asks, and when no one replies, he nods, "Fantastic. I’m going home now, if that’s alright with you two, of course."

The mother nods stiffly.

"Wonderful," Regulus snaps. He looks at Dorcas and Alex, "Shall we?"

Again, he doesn’t wait for them to reply before he’s storming out of the door and into the main pit. Alex practically throws herself out of the door way to avoid his long strides, and Dorcas comes barrelling close on his heels.

"What was that?" She hisses.

"I believe, that was a pair of racist twats that just made it very clear that they—"

"No," Dorcas snaps, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to an empty bay. "I meant what was that with you!"

Regulus frowns, "Excuse me?"

"You can't accuse patients of racism, Regulus," she sighs, pinching her nose. "If the board find out about this—"

Regulus scoffs. "If they find out about this, I will happily take a black mark against my name if it means that patients aren’t allowed to be openly racist on my fucking ward."

Dorcas looks at him pointedly. In that moment, she looks deceivingly like Euphemia when she used to find Regulus’ attitude on the verge of rude when he was a student. "Fuck sake, Reg."

Regulus doesn’t say anything, just leans heavily on the wall. If he thought he was tired before, he feels exhausted now.

"I don’t need you defending me," Dorcas says after a long moment.

"I know," Regulus nods. "I never said you did. Maybe I just wanted to defend you."

Dorcas sighs, crossing her arms.

"Well. . . thank you," she murmurs. "I don’t need you to jump in as my defender, but thank you."

Regulus shrugs one shoulder. "My pleasure. I think I needed to snap at a patient after this shift. It was ideal they were a pair of assholes, to be honest. Gave me an excuse."

Dorcas rolls her eyes.

"You going to be alright with those two today?"

"Of course," she smiles. "Would you be surprised if I told you that wasn’t the first time this has happened?"

"Unfortunately, no. Mary’s in at 10, you can tag team them if they kick off again."

Dorcas grins, tension finally seeping out of her shoulders.

"Sounds like a plan," she nods. "You should go home. You look like shit."

"Charming," Regulus scoffs, pushing off the wall. "Have fun holding down the fort."

"Have fun sleeping for four days."

You bet your fine ass I will, Regulus thinks as he makes his way down to the mess room. Even just mentioning sleep has Regulus drag his feet to change out of his scrubs. Glancing out the window for the first time in hours, he rips off his scrub top with a huff. Rain is lashing down at the windows, and even at 9:30, the sky is still looking dark with ominous rain clouds.

He looks down at his knit jumper, scarf and peacoat in despair, wishing he’d worn his raincoat last night. It’s only a brisk walk to the car park, but it’s raining hard enough that he knows the lack of waterproof clothing and a hood is going to have him drench before he even gets to the pay meter.

Unsurprisingly, his hair is flat and dripping in his eyes by the time he slides into his car seat. Chilled down to the bone and now immensely annoyed, he turns on the car and blasts the heating as high as he can. Sinking down in the chair to give his car a moment to warm up, Regulus closes his eyes.

He doesn't care was Dorcas' reaction was, nor does he care if the two nasty patients make a complaint about him, he doesn't regret what he said to that mother and daughter. It's not the first time he's been a witness to racism on the ward, but it's the first time since he's qualified and been in a position to have enough authority to say something. He's actually impressed with how professional he was able to stay, considering it was his 13th hour on the ward and he's lost his temper worse before for much less.

If this job has taught Regulus one thing, is that some people really, really suck. Regulus has no doubts that Dorcas is going to be able to hold her own for the rest of the day. When Mary gets in later and no doubt hears about it too, Regulus is excited to hear what she ends up doing. No doubt Mary will go to impossible levels to make today extremely difficult for the girl and her mother.

Regulus has absolutely no remorse for them.

Opening his eyes again, Regulus reads the car clock and sighs heavily. It’s already 10:15. He’s been on the hospital grounds for over 14 hours now, and he still has to sit through London traffic to get back to his flat to go to bed.

If he didn’t enjoy being a doctor, Regulus would be seriously considering his life choices.

Starting the car, Regulus pulls out of the lot and begins the crawl back to Kensington.

He gets 10 minutes down the road when the car begins to chug. He doesn’t even have time to process that his morning is going from bad to worse before smoke arises from the bonnet and he limps the car to the pavement.

Sitting, shocked and agape, he stares out the window at the plumes of smoke wafting up from his car.

Well, he thinks. Fuck.

"Fuck!" He shouts, dropping his head down onto the steering wheel.

The rain is still pelting down on the windows around him.

"This can’t be happening," he whines, clenching his eyes shut. His head is beginning to throb.

He debates just staying in the car. With the way the bonnet is smoking, he can’t even bring himself to care if the thing blows up. He’ll happily go up in flames with it, at least then he’ll get some decent fucking rest afterwards.

Regulus doesn’t know where he finds the energy in himself to climb out of the car. He’d much rather roll and crawl round to the bonnet, but the manners imbedded in him since he was old enough to walk forbid him from doing so. By the time Regulus has the bonnet up, smoke wafting in his face, he’s soaked through from the rain. The smoke burns his eyes, and he realises as he blinks the stinging tears out of his eyes that this entire ordeal is futile. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. Whoever says cars are like a metal version of the human body are full of shit. It’s a mess of metal and pipes. Regulus can run through an entire emergency spinal and brain trauma from beginning to theatre bed, but he knows fuck all about cars.

He slams the bonnet shut with a frustrated groan.

Cars are driving past him mockingly. The rain is still coming down ferociously, splattering along the quickly growing puddles. The pavements are deserted, with only a handful of people running around with raincoats and umbrellas sheltering them from the impending storm. Regulus rarely see’s London so quiet for people walking on their morning commutes, but he figures everyone else is smart enough to not be standing out in the pouring rain.

At least not in nothing but a fucking peacoat.

Evan and Barty would be laughing at him right now. Style over substance, right?

"Regulus?"

He spins around, water dripping off his hair and going in his eyes. He blinks, both in surprise and to get the water out of his eyes.

The culprit of his name is standing about five foot away from, wrapped up in a thick rain coat, hood up and draw strings tightened enough that he would be hard to recognise if it wasn’t for the huge smile and raindrop covered glasses on his face.

"James?"

A smile breaks out on his face. "Doctor Black, is that you?"

"No, it’s the fucking pope," Regulus snarls, rolling his eyes. "What are you doing out in this weather?"

"I had to post something," James says, jutting a glove-covered hand over his shoulder. His hand falls awkwardly, and he looks at the still smoking car behind him. "Is that your car?"

"No, I’m standing in the rain staring at a random person’s broken down car."

James’ eyes flick from the car to Regulus.

"I don’t think it’s meant to be doing that."

"No shit!" Regulus shouts, throwing his hands up. He runs a hand over his face, then up and through his hair to get his fringe out of his eyes. When his hair is wet and being constantly battered by unyielding rain, it makes his hair flatten and the normally perfectly lengthened curls fall into his eyes like small, stabbing needles.

"Rough night?" James asks tentatively.

"It was fine," Regulus sighs.

"You don’t look fine."

Regulus growls in frustration. "My car is broken down and I’m standing in the pouring rain in a fucking peacoat, James! Of course I don’t look fine!"

A beat of silence passes between them. Nothing to be heard apart from the blearing of car horns and the aggressive splatter of rain.

"I like the coat actually," James says, and Regulus side-eyes him to see a small smile tugging at the corners of the older boys lips. James' eyes skim up and down Regulus, and the doctor is a moment away from squirming uncomfortably when James meets Regulus' eyes again. "Even if it is entirely inappropriate for the weather. The little scarf too. You look lovely."

"It’s too early for your bubbly personality, James," Regulus says. Thankfully, it's cold enough that his cheeks and nose are already coloured pink so it hides the growing blush forming on his cheeks. Thankfully, no one can hear how his heart has picked up fast enough to constitute him being an impatient in the cardio ward.

"Haven’t you been up all night?" James asks.

"Please, add more salt to the wound why don’t you!" Regulus shouts, tone border-lining hysteria now. He’s cold and his clothes are dripping, he’s tired to the point of feeling shaky, his car is still smoking and he’s got at least a two hours to walk home in Kensington.

He thinks he has a right to feel a little bit hysterical right now.

Then to make matters worse, James is now here, looking deliciously ravishing despite raindrops covering his glasses bad enough Regulus is convinced the guy can’t even see. He looks warm as well, wrapped up in his coat and hood pulled tight that only his face is visible.

His eyes are so soft and lovely, and he’s looking at Regulus like he’s an angel sent from heaven instead of a drowned, over tired street rat right now.

There is a small smile on his face too. Merely a quirk on his lips, tugging at the corners like someone is plucking a string gently. Regulus’ eyes feel transfixed, and no matter how much his brain tells him to stop looking at them he just can’t.

"We’re not doing this," he says, and instantly his stomach pools at the way his voice comes out a shaky rasp.

Fuck, he must be really delirious from sleep. He’s never wanted to do something so much before. He’s never felt a knee-jerk reaction like he’s feeling looking at James’ stupidly attractive face.

James blinks in confusion, smile dropping.

No, Regulus’ mind spins. Come back. Please smile again.

"What?"

Regulus jolts with the physical desperation to focus. James might look lovely, but Regulus will not crumble to the puppy-dog eyes and soft lips.

He will not.

"We’re not being those people who have their first kiss in the rain," Regulus demands.

James’ face twists in surprise. His mouth drops open into a comical 'o' shape, and his thick eyebrows slowly rise. For a moment, he looks frozen, and Regulus is concerned for a moment he’s gone into shock. Regulus is sure he didn’t get the wrong impression, because James was looking exactly like Regulus felt.

James’ face slowly changes from genuine surprise to gentle softness. His head tilts slightly to the side, one corner of his lips curling upwards into a blinding, close-lipped smile.

"You want to kiss me?" James asks, and his tone is so teasing and pleased it makes Regulus want to hate himself.

"James," Regulus shakes his head, hands twitching as if he’s fighting the urge to grab James by the front of his jacket and yank the taller guy into him. "I’m serious. We’re not kissing in the sodding rain."

James chuckles breathlessly. "I think it’s quite romantic."

Regulus scoffs and rolls his eyes, scrambling for some fragment of composure to reserve his dignity right now.

"Of course you do."

"Well," James says slowly, rocking back on the balls of his feet, "are you objective towards kissing me?"

"I’m soaked to the bone, freezing cold and my car is smoking from under the bonnet. I am certainly not thinking about kissing you," Regulus replies, somehow feigning difference right now despite his brain catching up with what’s happening and starting to realise that perhaps he is the one that’s suggesting this. "The only thing I’m thinking about how I’m meant to get home."

James’ smile grows. "Well, I’m definitely thinking about kissing you."

Oh.

Oh.

"You cannot possibly be this cliche."

James hums, biting his lower lip for a second and smile growing even more when he see’s Regulus’ eyes dropping down to his mouth. James steps closer, movements slow.

"Do you want me to stop?" James asks, closing the gap between them even more.

"This is ridiculous," Regulus tries to scoff, tries to remain strong but his voice barely comes out a breathless rush. His throat feels tight, heart hammering so hard Regulus can hear the blood rushing in his ears.

"Is that a yes?" James asks. He’s right in front of him now, and Regulus is suddenly overwhelmed with want. James’ head is inclined, looking down at him and Regulus only now realises the height difference between them. It’s only about half a head, but it’s enough that James has to look down and Regulus would have to roll onto his toes to reach his mouth. "Is that a yes to stop?"

James is looking down at him, their faces inches apart. Regulus can feel the warm bursts of breath on his face. He can see every shade of hazel in James’ eyes, can see every inch of his dark skin like a smooth painting. He can see the raindrops caught in the small bits of hair that have escaped out the sides of his hood by his glasses arms.

"No," Regulus whispers, so quiet he’s not even sure if James would be able to hear him over the rain and street commotion around them, but he can’t force the words to come out any louder. Everything feels fragile right now, as if he talks too loud it will shatter this moment. "No, it’s not."

James’ face remains pleased, kind.

"Don’t stop?"

"Don’t stop," Regulus practically gasps. "Please, don’t stop."

Regulus doesn’t know who it is that closes the gap between them. He thinks they do it together, both surging in at the same time.

The moment James’ lips meet his own, it’s like the world goes away. Someone has slipped a pair of noise-cancelling headphones over Regulus’ ears, because suddenly he can’t hear a thing. It’s like every focus in London has zeroed in on them.

James is kissing him.

Regulus is kissing back.

James’ glove-covered hands are cupping his jaw, thumbs curling around his cheek bones so gently like he’s cradling a bird. Regulus is grasping at James’ jacket like he’s going to rip away from him, desperate and hungry. The kiss barely managed stayed as tentative and sweet before James is deepening it, and Regulus allows it. He allows it so much, and his arms are winding around James’ neck without his awareness, pulling James closer as he pushes up on his toes to chase the high that’s making his dizzy.

Regulus pulls away first, but only because he suddenly realises maybe the onslaught dizziness is actually due to lack of oxygen. He breaks away with a shaky gasp, running a tongue over his bottom lip instantly. Regulus doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but when he opens them, James’ nose is so close it’s touching Regulus’ own.

James’ eyes stay shut for another moment. He’s breathing deeply, and Regulus can feel the rise and fall of his chest against his own.

"Wow," James breathes, eyelashes fluttering. He laughs suddenly, merely a breath of a chuckle. "Wow. That was. . . fuck."

"Speechless?" Regulus asks.

"You’re a good kisser."

"Don’t sound so surprised."

"I’m not. I’m really not. I just—" his eyes slowly open, and instantly he’s looking into Regulus’. "Wow."

"You’ve said that."

"Wow."

Regulus huffs. "James—"

"This is the best day ever."

"Bloody hell. You can’t be serious. It was only a kiss."

"That was easily the best kiss I’ve ever had," James replies, licking his lips. "I can’t believe I finally got to kiss you."

"I’ve been up all night. There is a good chance I’m delirious from lack of sleep."

"I can accept that," James smiles. "Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes please."

James’ lips don’t stay against his for nearly as long as the first time. Regulus has barely had a chance to pry James’ mouth open enough to run his tongue along the top of the older boys mouth when James is pulling back.

"Want to come back to mine?" He asks. His lips are slightly swollen, and his eyes are glinting as they look down at Regulus with adoration. "We can call the garage to come pick up your car, then go back to mine to have some breakfast. My flat mate is out, so we can have the place to ourselves."

"Are you coming onto me, Potter?" Regulus replies, and he somehow manages to keep his tone teasing and mocking despite feeling like James has ripped open every possible fragment of him.

"I meant for you to sleep," James rolls his eyes lazily. "You’ve been up all night, after all."

Regulus clears his throat. "Right."

"Come on, ring the garage," James says, but he doesn’t move his hands away from Regulus’ face. Instead, he holds on tighter, eyes flicking over every inch of what he can see. A small, twist of a frown pulls at his eyebrows. "You’re soaked through."

"Obviously," Regulus drawls. "I’ve been standing in the rain for 20 minutes."

James laughs at that, frown dropping. "Smart ass. Do you have a number for a garage?"

"Obviously."

"You’re cranky after a nightshift."

"Fuck off."

James’ hands drop away, and Regulus would be worried James read too much into his tone until he spots the smile still framing the older boys face.

James shuts the bonnet and they get in the car to shield from the rain. Regulus phones the garage, and he holds the phone to his ear with slightly shaking hands.

Shaking from the cold, of course.

"Pick up is coming in 15," Regulus says when he hangs up. He looks at the still lashing rain outside with a sigh. It hasn’t let up in the slightest. "Do you live far? Wait— did you walk here?"

James nods.

Regulus narrows his eyes. "Don’t you have a car?"

"I fancied a walk," James shrugs.

"In the rain?"

"I find it therapeutic."

"Are you mad?"

James laughs. "I’ve got to stay fit somehow, haven’t I? Being unemployed at the moment and all that, it would be too easy to sit on my ass 24 hours a day."

"Of all the days to walk, you choose to do it in the middle of a thunderstorm?"

"Firstly, not a thunderstorm, don’t be so dramatic," James says, and Regulus bristles because he is not dramatic. "And secondly, as I said before, I find walking in the rain very therapeutic. You might too, if you had appropriate weather clothing."

"You’re getting on my last nerve, Potter."

James just chuckles, shaking his head.

"I live near Dalston," James finally explains. "It’ll take about an hour to walk, so I’ll order us a taxi."

Regulus head snaps to face him. "You don’t—"

"We’re both soaking now, and there is no way we’re sitting on a busy train for 30 minutes during peak hour like this. A taxi will take 20 minutes tops," James says, and when Regulus opens his mouth to argue again, James holds a hand up and adds, "No arguments now, I’m ordering us a taxi. You need food and sleep ASAP."

Regulus slumps in tired defeat. "Fine."

"Thank you, darling," James smiles.

"Don’t call me that."

"Okay, darling."

"I hate you."

"Hush," James rests a finger against Regulus’ lips and flashes him a cheeky grin. "I’m ordering us a taxi."

If Regulus hadn’t been already dazed by the lack of sleep and now his thoughts scrambled over the fact he kissed James Potter in the rain, then Regulus would have paid more attention to James’ apologises about him and his friends flat being on the top floor. Stupid studio apartments being five floors up. Regulus would have demanded James to carry him up if he wasn’t already sure his dignity had been shattered on the streets of London for having his first kiss with a pretty boy in the rain like something out of a romantic sit-com.

James’ flat is lovely for someone who currently isn’t working. Turns out savings and your flatmates wages for making art are enough to carry over rent in a studio flat in London. Regulus would feel put out at the fact if James didn’t warn him about the fact the toilet doesn’t always flush and the window in his flatmates room doesn’t open.

It’s run down and old looking, but him and his friend have made it cosy. Well, as cosy as it can be when it looks like two university students are living in it instead of two adults in their mid-twenties.

When they get in, James instantly leads Regulus to the sofa, only getting as far as snatching his bag off his shoulder and pausing when he goes to take his coat too.

"Oh, you’re going to need some dry clothes," he says, eyeing the still wet fabric he’s wearing. "Do you want to take a quick shower too? I imagine it would be nice after a 12 hour shift."

Regulus nods, peeling off his damp scarf from round his neck.

"The bathroom is just in there," James juts his thumb over his shoulder. "I’ll find you something to wear and while you’re in there I can make us some grub. I’m sure I’ve got some old stuff that might fit you, but the trousers will probably be too long."

Regulus rolls his eyes. "I’m not that short."

"Compared to me, you really are," James smiles, eyes flicking quickly down him.

They stand in silence. Regulus begins to squirm under James’ intriguing gaze.

"Uh," Regulus shifts, "the shower?"

"Oh!" James jolts. "Y-yeah. Just, uh— feel free to use anything in there. My flatmate buys nice stuff, I won’t tell him you used it if you fancy something more expensive than my supermarket shampoo."

"Supermarket shampoo? James, if you’re about to tell me you use 3-in-1 I will walk out right now and you will never see me again."

James throws his head back and laughs. "No, fucking hell, calm down Mr Bathing Connoisseur. I don’t use 3-in-1, thank you very much, but I also don’t spend over 20 quid on a bottle of shampoo like Pads does."

Regulus hums distastefully.

"It seems like this Pads at least has some taste."

James rolls his eyes. "Shut up and shower would you? Otherwise, those wet clothes are going to make your skin wrinkle, and then I’m going to have to tell you that you look like a naked mole-rat."

"Watch it, Potter," Regulus grumbles, tossing his scarf at the other boys head before storming into the shower.

"Wait!" James shouts, and Regulus pauses in the doorway to see James dashing into the room next door.

He comes out a minute later, a folded towel in hand and a set of clothes thrown over his arm. He looks flushed when he holds them out for Regulus.

"Enjoy," James smiles.

Regulus takes the clothes and towel with a light roll of his eyes. "Thanks."

The shower warms him up as well as washes the smell of hospital off him. James left him a pair of grey sweats, a clearly old and well-loved t-shirt and a navy blue hoodie with hand-made thumb holes made in the cuffs. Regulus finds it incredibly endearing and absolutely adorable that James is the type of person to like thumb holes in his jumpers, and likes them so much that he actually makes his own. The clothes are threadbare and faded, and clearly a few sizes too small for James as they’re only slightly large on Regulus. They’re warm though, and surprisingly soft for something so tatted. Regulus has to stop himself from smelling the jumper after he’s put it on to see if it smells like James.

Stepping out, the question of where James wants him to put the towel and his wet clothes dies on his lips when the smell of bacon hits his nose.

Following the smell and walking past the dining table in the middle of the main room, Regulus steps up to the doorway of the kitchen. James is standing in a pair of sweats himself, perfectly fitting and hugging all the right places. He’s got his back to Regulus, and the cotton t-shirt framing him is slightly stretched over his back, showing every curl and definition of the muscle there.

Regulus doesn’t say anything as he watches James stand at the kitchen side, frypan in one hand and using a pair of tongs in the other to distribute the bacon onto the rolls. He’s humming to himself, low enough Regulus has no idea was the tune really is. It’s only when James turns to place the frypan in the sink does he notice Regulus standing there.

"Oh!" He jolts slightly in surprise, and then his face splits with a smile. "Hi."

"Hi," Regulus murmurs.

James is silent for a moment, a blush curling on his cheeks. He seems to come back to life with a flinch.

"Hi," he smiles. "Nice shower?"

Regulus hums. "Your friend has good taste in shampoo."

"Told you," James chuckles. "Here, let me take those and I’ll put them on the airer to dry. I made us bacon sandwiches and hot chocolates, figured you’d want something other than coffee after being up all night."

"Thank you."

It’s only a few minutes later that they’re situated on the sofa, plates in hand and two mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table. Now he’s dry and warm, Regulus is struggling to keep his eyes open. His mind feels exhausted from spinning in circles at how much has happened since he left the hospital hours ago. He kissed James, followed James back his flat, used his shower, is now wearing his clothes and eating a bacon butty on the sofa with a hot chocolate to top it off.

It feels incredibly domestic.

Pathetically so.

Regulus can’t help but look to his side. James is merely inches from him, their shoulders are almost touching as he makes his way through his breakfast and scrolls through the channels on the TV. Regulus wants to lean in, to feel the warmth off of him again. He wants their shoulders to brush, for James to look at him again like he did when he found him and his broken down car.

"Oh shit!" James suddenly shouts, turning to him.

Regulus jerks. He’s hoping in James’ sudden outburst he didn’t realise Regulus has been already looking at him the whole time.

"What?"

"Your cat."

Regulus blinks a couple of times, waiting for James to add more. He doesn’t, instead he keeps staring at Regulus like he’s grown a second head.

"Yes," Regulus says slowly. "My cat. Feel free to expand on your worries whenever you feel like it, James."

"Doesn’t he need feeding? Or letting out? You’ve been out all night, and—"

"I left him down extra cat food last night. I figured I was going to be late off because we were understaffed," Regulus explains, forcing himself to shove down the weird feeling of James being worried about his cat. "And he’s a cat, James. He doesn’t need letting out, that’s what cat-flaps are for."

James looks relieved. "You have a cat-flap?"

"No," Regulus admits, turning back to the TV, "but Sylvester isn’t a going-out type of cat anyways. I had a cat-flap for a while but he never used it and refused to leave the flat, so I got rid of it after Barty kept trying to fit through it after nights out."

"Barty tried to get through a cat-flap?"

"Multiple times," Regulus nods. "It was rather amusing, until one day Pandora said if Barty wasn’t always drunk while he was trying it actually wouldn’t be that hard for someone sober and small enough to fit through it. So, I got rid of it, and now Pandora has stopped worrying about me being burgled."

James laughs in amusement. "Barty sounds a lot like Pads, and Pandora sounds a lot like Moony."

"I will never get over how you’re all 25 and refer to each other in fucking codenames."

"Hey!" James yelps. "The nicknames are the foundations of the Marauders!"

Regulus rolls his eyes, eating the last of his bacon roll before putting the empty plate on the table. He reaches for the hot chocolate only for James to snatch them both up, looking at Regulus expectantly. It’s only after Regulus has relaxed back against the sofa does James finally hand him his drink.

"Now, your majesty," James beams as he point the remote at the TV, pausing in mock suspense, "drink your hot chocolate while I introduce you to the glorious world of Modern Family."

"Evan watches that all the time. He started calling me 'Mitchell' after he first starting watching it."

"Mitchell?"

"Apparently I’m high-strung, and also gay of course," Regulus shrugs, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. "I’m not opposed to disagreeing, but I have far better hair than that character, so naturally I took it to insult."

James hums softly. "Naturally."

Regulus doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t make it past the second episode.

— tbc.