carpe diem

10

When the flat door opens behind him, James inclines his head backwards so his neck is stretched over the back of the sofa and eyes as Sirius stumbles in.

The door closes behind him with a bang, his boots dragging on the floor as he moves to shrug off his leather jacket and slings it over the back of the sofa chair.

"Morning," James greets, sitting up more so he can see as Sirius rounds the sofa.

Sirius replies with a grunt before he's flopping down heavily across the sofa and James. His elbow jigs in sharply into James' thigh, but the shaggy haired man doesn't show any remorse to James' yelp, instead sinking further into his human pillow with a sigh.

After a moment, he adds, "M'r'nin'."

James huffs a laugh. "Fantastic English, Pads."

Sirius doesn’t reply. James gives him a minute, choosing to run his fingers through his best friends hair instead. When Sirius doesn’t speak or move from where he’s draped over James’ body, James asks, "You okay?"

"Hmm," Sirius hums. He shifts his head up enough so James can see his face, his eyes closed. "Tired."

"You look tired," James agrees, because he does, but James knows Sirius has been bouncing between the tattoo studio and Remus’ place like a yoyo the last week. It’s not wonder he’s exhausted. "Where’s Remus?"

"He told me to leave," Sirius pouts, eyes still shut. "Apparently I was distracting him."

"He working today?"

"Yeah. They’ve had a huge wedding order come in and they’re super busy with these huge decorations, so Remus has gone in to help his mum despite the fact that he’s worked the last four days anyways."

"You’re worried about him," James says, and it’s not even a question. Sirius always worries about Remus. Despite being together since they were 14, and Remus living with his condition long before, Sirius always worries.

It takes Sirius a long time to let people in, to trust and let them get close, but when he finally does, he really does give everyone his all. He’s run himself into the ground caring and looking out for the people he loves before. He’s stayed up for nights on end, not sleeping a wink because he’s watching Remus after having a bad seizure to make sure he doesn’t have another one. He’s spent countless hours, of all times of the day sitting with Remus is A&E. When Peter’s dad died, Sirius practically adopted Peter’s younger siblings and helped them understand the realism of their father never coming home and giving Peter and his mum space and time to grieve properly. Whenever one of them was sick, even with something as small as just a cold, Sirius would lay with them for days, watching films and getting them anything they needed while keeping them company.

James remembers when he looked at Sirius when they’d just met, fresh meat in a huge London secondary school, and within in a few weeks James knew that they were destined to be best friends. They’re closer than brothers, all amplified when Sirius literally moved in with him when he was 16. James has always hated Sirius’ family for the way they treated him, and when Sirius finally ran away from them, James and his family welcomed them with open arms.

James has known Sirius long enough to know that Sirius being worried about Remus isn’t anything new, and while sometimes it becomes unreasonable and greatly annoys Remus, James understands. He understands that Sirius seems to have this need to look after people like he was never cared for, loved like he was never loved. He’s so terrified of losing the people that showed him life wasn’t meant to be like it was for him when he was growing up, that he almost becomes unbearable in his desperation to keep them all healthy and happy.

"I don’t want him to make himself sick," Sirius replies. "He had a bad seizure the other day, and I thought we were going to have to go back to hospital again. His mum didn’t want him to go to the shop, but he’s being so fucking stubborn about it."

James hums, not stalling in running his hand through Sirius’ hair. "Remind you of anyone?"

"What?"

"Reminds me of a little artist friend I have, who spends unhealthy hours at his art studio also working himself sick to then skip the fundamental needs of life to take care of everyone else," James muses. "Oh, and he’s also stubborn as fuck."

"Fuck off," Sirius grumbles, sitting up. "I’m being serious!"

"All in the name, Pads."

Sirius shrieks, punching James hard in the arm, glaring. "Stop it! Moony could be—"

"Moony is fine," James smiles softly, "He’s at work in a quiet flower shop with his mum who has known and looked after him since he shot out of her vagina 25 years ago."

Sirius grimaces, "Gross."

"He’s being looked after, Pads," James adds. "If he’s not being cared for by you, he’s being looked after by his parents, or Peter, or me. He’s never not being thought about. You’re going to make yourself sick by worrying about this so much, and then who’s going to fill your shoes when you’re out of action?"

Sirius slumps in defeat, head flopping over the back of the sofa. "I just worry."

"I know," James nudges him. "You’re allowed to worry, Pads, but Moony is a big boy. He knows the signs way better than you do, not that you’d like to admit that."

Sirius grunts at him.

"You’re a very good boyfriend, Pads," James teases.

"Fuck off."

"Hey!" James yelps. "I was—"

"You’re taking the piss and it’s not helping."

"It is helping, because already you don’t look as uptight."

"I’m not uptight."

"You are. You’re forehead vein is doing that thing again and you keep scrunching up your face. Keep it up much longer and you’ll have more wrinkles than dad."

"I’m telling Monty you said that."

"Go for it, he knows he’s a DILF even at 50."

"Prongs, you shouldn’t say that about your dad."

"Are you disagreeing?"

"Absolutely not."

James smiles is triumph and relaxes back into the sofa. "How’s the piece going?"

Sirius whines loudly, running a hand over his face roughly. "I hate it. I hate everything I’m producing at the moment. I can’t get it right, can’t get it how I want it."

"When’s it due?"

"End of January."

"You’ll get it done, you always do," James offers softly.

"I’ve restarted it four times now."

"Maybe wait till the end before you scrap it next time," James shrugs. "Y’know, trust the process and all that."

"Prongs, shut the fuck up, you can’t even draw stick men properly."

"Someones touchy today," James pouts, jabbing his foot into Sirius’ side. "Stop being so touchy."

"Prongs—"

James cuts him off by toeing his side again and again, watching gleefully as Sirius squirms and tries to get away, yelping and crying out from the onslaught. It doesn’t take long before Sirius is grabbing James’ foot, bending his toes back and tickling the bottom of his foot. James reacts with a squark, full-body jerking so hard he tumbles off the sofa and almost brains himself on the coffee table.

Panting and laying face down on the floor, James groans. Above him, Sirius is practically howling.

"That was completely uncalled for, you know," he grunts.

Sirius’ laughs fold into a deep chuckle. "Karma. Shouldn’t have been poking me with your stinky feet."

"You know I hate my feet being tickled," James whines, pushing himself up.

"Then don’t put them where they don’t belong," Sirius grins at him. James decides face planting the floor was more than worth it to see a sparkle back in Sirius’ eyes and healthy flush in his cheeks.

James likes it when Sirius looks happy. When his eyes are dull it reminds James too much of the times when he still lived with his old family, when he seemed to float through life sometimes with eyes as haunted as a WW1 soldier.

Happy looks good on Sirius.

"Hey," Sirius sits up straighter suddenly, "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Yes."

Sirius blinks. "What?"

"Yes," James repeats. "You have my permission to marry Moony and yes, of course, I will be your best man."

Sirius rolls his eyes with a chuckle. "Not what I meant, you twat."

"Are you saying I'm not going to be your best man?"

"Of course you will be!" Sirius scolds. "Just not yet, Prongs, don't get ahead of yourself."

James pouts, but let's it go quickly. Him and Peter have had a bet running since they were all 18 on when Sirius and Remus were going to get married. Peter bet on when they were all 24, so he's automatically lost despite being certain they'd get married after their 10 year anniversary. James bet on 26, so time is running out for him if he wants to make an easy £100 off Peter.

Shuffling forward, James rests his chin on the seat of the sofa, body sprawled out still on the floor as he looks up at his best friend.

"What did you want to talk about?" He asks, tone soft. Nothing normally comes good of Sirius wanting to chat about something. The last time they did this he was bracing himself to tell James he wanted to move to Yorkshire to go to university, and while that wasn't a bad thing, the state Sirius got in about telling everyone was. James is still fully convinced he was most scared of telling their parents and Remus, and actually not at all worried about James as he knew he'd follow Sirius to the end of the Earth if he wanted to go.

Sirius smirks, and James barely gets a moment to be confused before he blurts out, "The hot doctor."

"What?" James blinks. "Why do you—"

"Because, my soft and gooey friend, you are absolutely smitten on this man and have been talking about him nonstop for weeks, making all of our ears literally bleed with the mushy shit you come out with," Sirius doesn't even halt in his speech when James begins to sputter in defence. "Yet to my recollection, you haven't even been on a date with him yet."

James sighs, closing his eyes pitifully.

He didn't need reminding of that, nor did he need the dig about how much he's been talking about Regulus.

Regulus is just so busy though. All the time. Literally. If he's not at work, he's studying, and when he's not doing either of those things, he's got about 24 hours to spare and almost always his friends are dragging him out to get drunk somewhere. James would be concerned about the amount Regulus seems to be at the pub, except he probably only goes once every two weeks, yet it stands out against the rests of his texts when he's either at the hospital or sweating over gruelling surgery notes.

James admires him though. He admires the younger man, who's qualified so young yet knows as much as someone who's been doing it for decades. He admires, and hates, the way Regulus throws his own personal agenda and physical health in the bin the moment he's called into the hospital. He admires Regulus’ unyielding commitment to the hospital, the staff and the patients, to the point where sometimes he ends up working five or six days a week without complaint. 

James admires it. He really does. Only, James is human, and as a human, he likes a healthy amount of attention. Unfortunately, the one person he’s been dying for quality attention from is more dedicated to work than he is the general fundamentals of living.

Hence, the natural dilemma of having been texting and occasionally seeing Regulus for weeks and weeks when he sneaks onto the neurology ward to greet him while he’s working, yet they haven’t been on a date.

The only form of date they’ve are on three occasions that if one looked closely, are no where near dates. One was a cancellation of pottery that involved Regulus sleeping off a hangover and cooking a meal to make up for it. The second was when James crashed round Regulus’ apartment again to make the younger man watch Jaws, which can hardly be counted as a date and instead more of a hangout. The third was when James picked Regulus up from a nightshift when he was dead on his feet and bought him breakfast bagels to counteract the severe lack of sleep the younger boy was suffering from.

All three were not dates.

No matter how much James wished they were, they simply weren’t.

Does Regulus even want to go on a date with him?

They’ve kissed already, sure, but Regulus has already said that he doesn’t 'do' that sort of thing. What this 'thing' between them is, James isn’t so sure anymore. The lines between Regulus' wants and fears have been blurred since they kissed and proceeded to spend half the day napping on the sofa.

What does Regulus want?

Is James just a bit of fun?

Does Regulus make out with all of his 'friends’?

No, surely not. James may not know Regulus as well as he knows the Marauders, but James is certain Regulus isn’t the type to mess him around.

Regulus just cautious. Yes, that’s it. Maybe he’s had a bad relationship before and is hesitant to try again.

James is happy to wait. He’d wait as long as it takes to be able to be given a chance by the riveting Regulus Black and his soft hair and stormy eyes and huge brain. James would wait as long as it takes to show Regulus all the wonderful things the young doctor deserves.

A date would be nice though.

Very nice, in fact.

"Prongs?"

James blinks. Sirius is looking down at him with a face twisted with concern.

"You good?" Sirius asks. "You really zoned out on me then. Has something happened with the pretty doctor?"

"No," James blurts, shaking his head. "No, nothing has happened."

"I’m guessing that’s the problem, then," Sirius nods. "Nothing has happened, and you want more to happen."

"It’s not— I don’t need— he’s just—" James sighs, rubbing his eyes. "You know we kissed, right?"

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Yes, Prongs. I know, Moony knows, Wormtail knows. I’m pretty sure you’ve told every stranger in London about that kiss."

"Shut up," James gripes, groaning. "It’s just. . . it’s been two weeks since we kissed, and I haven’t seen him since because he’s been so busy with work and—"

"Prongs, dude, you need to speak to this guy," Sirius says, tone cooling to stern seriousness. "If he's leading you on, you need to say something. He can't be doing this to you. You've giving him your all, and if he's not reciprocating the same then that's not fair, you need to drop the guy before he breaks your heart."

"It's not like that," James tries.

"Is it not? I bet he's not at home right now worrying about what you guys are and why you haven't been on a date yet. He doesn't ever arrange to see you or give you free coffee or--"

"He's busy working."

"Your mum is a doctor too, and she's always made time for Monty."

James wants to argue that that statement isn't entirely true. James can recall times when he was younger that his father would argue with his mother that she was spending too much time at work, missing out on too much of life and James growing up. It didn't happen often, James could probably count on one hand all the times Monty had to say to her that she needed to work less or stop picking up extra shifts and missing family dinners with them all.

It all turned around when James was 11 and his mother missed his first football game at Hogwarts because she was working. The game was only for fun, and James actually ended up quitting the team before he turned 12, but his father made a huge deal out of his mother missing it. His mother was more heartbroken than she was angry that Monty blew up at her, and she promised she wouldn't miss anything else. It helped when she became chief doctor, and she could have more control over the hours she worked and the overtime she picked up.

Sirius didn't see that, and James is never going to tell him that he spent most of his childhood with just his dad around because his mothers focus was on the hospital. Sirius had it way worse than James, so he doesn't have a right to complain about how much his mother prioritised her profession over him and his dad.

James doesn't get the same sickly feeling from Regulus like he did with his mother. He doesn't mind how much Regulus works, if anything he just worries about how much the young man is taking on his shoulders.

Sure, James misses him. James wishes Regulus had more time, and he tries not to wonder if Regulus uses work as an excuse to not see him more.

"You deserve better than chasing tail, Prongs," Sirius adds. "You’ve been talking for months, you two literally kissed and he spent half a day napping round here a few weeks ago. You’re more than in your right to ask the guy on a date. If anything, you’re long overdue a date at this fucking rate. Couples would be on their fifth date by this point."

"We’re not a couple, though."

"That’s another thing you should figure out," Sirius counters. "You’re everything a couple is without the dates and the label. You need to make sure this guy isn’t stringing you along for the fun of it, Prongs."

"He’s not!" James defends, though the clench in his chest makes him doubt it.

"Then go for it!" Sirius bellows, throwing his arms up. "Ask the jerk on a date, woo him with your Prongsie-power and get that guy as whipped for you as you are for him."

"He’s not a jerk," James grumbles. "And I am not whipped!"

"Oh," Sirius groans, "Prongs, I love you, but my guy, you are more whipped than a trained dog."

"Hey!"

"Am I wrong?"

"You are literally nicknamed after a dog."

"Irrelevant."

"We called you Padfoot!"

"Text him, Prongs. Be a man and ask this guy on a date before I steal your phone and do it for you."

"But, what if—"

"Now!" Sirius shouts, voice booming. "Before I murder you for literally killing me slowly over this shit. Take him ice skating or something."

"I can't ice skate."

"Neither can he probably. You can fall into each others arms on the ice. It will be incredibly romantic."

It sounds like the least romantic thing to James, although highly amusing. Regulus doesn't seem like the type to enjoy flailing and slipping around an ice rink.

"Fine," James grumbles, standing up. He snatches his phone off the coffee table and makes his way into the kitchen. Once the kettle is on and his tea is prepped, he types out the first text.

Him and Regulus haven’t text this morning yet due to Regulus sleeping in today for his nightshift tonight. Still, if James doesn’t text now he has no doubt Sirius will steal his phone to do it for him.

James (10:06) good morning! how do you feel about iceskating?

The reply, surprisingly, comes quickly.

Regulus(10:11) i don’t resent it. why?

James (10:11) wtf are you awake?

Regulus (10:12) sylvester has a vet check up appointment at 11 so i had to get up. don’t start worrying now I’ll have a nap later before my shift

James smiles. Regulus really loves that bloody cat.

James (10:11) when are you next off work?

Regulus (10:13) i’m on my last night shift then I have four days off. i’m not answering anymore questions until you tell me what this is about

James (10:14) because the ice rink has opened by the tower of london and i was wondering if you fancy going if you have any time off

James (10:14) don’t feel like you have to say yes!

James (10:14) it’s just an offer! no pressure!!

The reply doesn’t come as quickly as the rest. James’ heart is pounding in his chest stupidly, like a rabid animal fighting it’s way out of a cage.

He’s so stupid.

Why did he listen to Sirius?

"You okay?" Sirius asks.

James shakes his head helplessly, "I—"

When his phone pings, he almost drops his cup of tea in haste to unlock his phone and read it.

Regulus (10:17) like a date?

Will Regulus be scared off if James says yes?

Will be be put out of James says no?

James (10:18) it’s whatever you want it to be. it would just be nice to see you again when it’s not on the ward :)

James (10:19) still no pressure though!!!

Regulus (10:22) I suppose it would be foolish of me to pass up an opportunity to see you stack it straight on your ass on the ice. friday good for you?

James’ eyes widen. He reads the text once, twice, again and again. He feels like a giddy child again.

He looks up at Sirius, who’s watching him intensely from over the back of the sofa.

"He said yes," James murmurs, lips tugging into a beaming smile. "This Friday."

"Hallelujah!" Sirius cheers, punching the air. "Atta Prongsie boy!"

James smiles as he looks down at his phone again.

James (10:25) friday is perfect! i'll book the rink and let you know the time :)

Regulus (10:26) you already seem far too excited to go ice skating

Regulus (10:26) can you ice skate?

James (10:26) i'm going to leave that up to a surprise

Regulus (10:27) i'm taking that as a no. friday will be highly amusing

James (10:27) can you ice skate!!???

"You're going on a date, Prongs!" Sirius shouts, whistling and throwing himself across the sofa. "My boy is going on a date!"

"It's not a date."

"It is!" Sirius laughs. "Oh, dude, this is so weird."

James' head whips up from his phone. "What?"

"You're going on a date with your mums work colleague."

"Oh, for fuck--" James groans, "Don't start bringing that up again."

"In fact, they're one up from work colleagues really. Your mum is his boss, also his right hand man, as far as Effie always says when she's talking about how fantastic he is on shift and how she loves working with him," Sirius teases. "Does your mum know how infiltrated you are with her neuro inferior?"

"Pads, please stop," James whines pitifully.

"I'm taking that as a she doesn't know."

"Yet!" James stresses. "She doesn't know yet!"

Sirius hums, clearly unconvinced but thoroughly enjoying James' suffering.

"What happened to my supportive best friend?" James asks, throwing his hands up. "Minutes ago you were convincing me to go on a date with him and now you're teasing me for it!"

"That's what best friends are for, Prongs."

"Was I ever like this to you and Moony?" James asks, collapsing on the sofa beside him. "I'm pretty sure I was completely supportive form day one."

"Oh, you were a little shit to me and Moony!" Sirius cackles. "Do you remember how much you and Wormtail teased us for how long it took for us to get together?"

"Well, you were both pining after each other for about two years without ever hinting to one another you like each other," James laughs. "I mean, you both dated different people and flirted with everything with a pulse apart from each other!"

Sirius grumbles, rolling his eyes. "I don't recall."

"You literally had a fist fight with a kid in third year in the playground because you were jealous he kissed Moony at a party when they were playing spin the bottle, and when Moony asked why you did that, you said he was spreading rumours about everyone."

"Well, he was going on about kissing Moony, so it technically wasn't a lie."

"You were both hopeless."

"Fuck off."

"No, you fuck off."

"Love you."

Sirius rolls his eyes.

"Love you too."

"What do you fancy for breakfast?"

"Anything that's not coco pops," Sirius grumbles. "I swear Moony lives off cereal."

"Coco pops are rather lovely."

James is about to get up when his phone rings, his dads name flashing up on the screen.

"Dad!" He answers, but he doesn't get to hear his fathers reply before Sirius is snatching the phone out of his hand.

"Monty!" He cheers, bottling up from the sofa. "Long time no speak!"

James is still gaping with surprise as Sirius is walking away from the sofa. He doesn't bother chasing for the phone after he hears Sirius' laugh echo through the studio flat. Sirius can speak to Monty for as long as he wants, James decides. He'll chat to his dad later, because he knows he has no chance of getting his phone back now.

It takes Sirius an hour to get off the phone with Monty, but that's not anything new.

James lets them.

James Potter is not a self-centred man. He takes pride in his appearance, sure, as much as one can when they have a head full of untameable hair and a slight (large) obsession with red converse. James likes clothes as much as the next person, and he enjoys looking good when he goes out. He enjoys making an effort, he enjoys picking out nice clothes and standing in front of a mirror feeling confident.

Normally, he doesn’t struggle with it.

Today, however, he is currently freaking out.

A lot.

"What about this one?" He asks, stepping away from the mirror and standing in front of the phone that he’s rested up on his bedside cabinet.

Peter’s face stares back at him on the screen, looking thoroughly more exasperated than he did an hour when he picked up the phone.

"It’s lovely," he nods, "Just as lovely as the last nine fucking outfits you’ve tried on, Prongs!"

"This is actually number 14," James replies, frantically unbuttoning the black shirt with gusto. "I tried on five outfits before I phoned you."

"And I’m so pleased I picked up," Peter snarks, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, mate, all of them have looked fine. It’s just a date. What is even so special about this guy? I’ve never seen you stress over the colour of shirt you’re going to wear."

"What is so special?" James practically shrieks. "Wormtail, would I be freaking out this much right now if he wasn’t bloody special?"

"That’s why I’m so confused," Peter shakes his head. "You didn’t even put in this much effort to your graduation outfit."

"Graduation doesn’t even compare to going on a date with Regulus."

"I can’t tell if this is cute or concerning."

"Well, stop trying to figure it out and help me pick a pair of trousers," James huffs. He feels like he’s going to need to shower again. All the rapid changes of clothes and stressing has caused him to break out in a slight sweat.

"Outfit number seven was the best."

"My seven or your seven?"

"Fucking hell— the one with the grey trousers and the navy and blue pinstripe shirt," Peter says. "But keep the top two buttons undone and roll the sleeves up."

James pauses in kicking off the jeans on his legs, straightening up in just his boxers to stare at the screen. "Worms, we’re going iceskating. It’s going to be freezing, why would I roll my sleeves up?"

Peter rolls his eyes, hard. "Because, Prongs, you have lovely muscly arms and even straight men like the look of them. Also, I know you’re going iceskating, you twat, you’ve told me about thirty times since I answered the phone. You’re going to  have a jacket on top, so roll up the damn shirt sleeves, Potter."

James blinks in surprise.

"Right. Sleeves rolled up, muscles out, got it," he nods. "Uh, shoes?"

"Put some trousers on and then we can discuss shoes."

"On it."

"I’m also about to break you’re heart, Prongs, because we’re not going with the classics."

James snaps up. "What!"

"You heard me," Peter replies. "Put the red converse away and get out the black shoes."

"Wormtail," James whines. "We’re going iceskating—"

"Yes, I know, but you’re also going to a restaurant afterwards and red converse are not it."

"Black all-stars."

Peter rolls his eyes again. "Fine. Are your trousers long enough to cover your socks?"

He frowns. "Why do I need to do that?"

"Hold up your foot."

James lifts his leg so his striped socked clad foot is clear in the camera.

"That is why," Peter nods. "I don’t have the energy to argue with you about wearing socks to match your shoes because I know for a fact you don’t known a pair of plain black socks."

James quickly pulls on his trousers and grabs the all-black trainers from the wardrobe. Tying then one quickly, he shows Peter.

The blonde nods solidly. "Smashing. Right, coats next. Try on the one from outfit two."

"The tan jacket?"

Peter nods, so James swipes up the tan leather jacket laid on the bed and shrugs it on. He takes a moment looking in the mirror, running a hand through his hair only to immediately try to flatten it down a little bit.

Peter nods, satisfied. "You look cracker, mate."

"You think?"

"Ay," he nods again. "I’ve got great taste, if I don’t say so myself."

"You sure it’s good enough?"

"Fuck me, Potter. You’re going on a fucking date, not a wedding."

"It’s a date with a pretty doctor."

"Yeah, a doctor, not the bloody queen," Peter huffs. "You look grand, trust me. Don’t you dare fucking change, or I’m hanging up and you can give yourself an aneurism on your lazza!"

"Alright, alright!" James yelps. "I won’t change, please don’t hang up! I still need help—"

"Put the chain with the your grandmothers ring on, and the Marauders ring," Peter interrupts. "That’s all you need. Trust, it’ll be enough."

"Thank you, Wormtail."

"Ay, what’re friends for," Peter smiles. "Speaking of which, where’s Pads? Why isn’t he here helping with the meltdown?"

"He’s at the studio," James admits. "I managed to convince him to stay off yesterday to give him a break, but he insisted on going in today."

"Ah," Peter nods. "Lad works too much."

"You’re telling me," James scoffs weakly. "So, just the chain and Marauders ring?"

"Yeah, trust me."

"Thank you so much, Worm."

"I take full credit, so you’re welcome," Peter smiles. "Seriously, Potter, you look hot. The pretty doctor won’t know what hit him when he sees you."

James smiles and shakes his head. "I don’t know. He is really pretty."

"You’re gonna make me puke in a minute, mate."

"You haven’t seen him, Peter," James argues as he snatches up the necklace off the side and turns to the mirror to clip it on. "You have no idea."

"No, I don’t. Only you and Moony seem to have met the mysterious doctor," Peter smirks. "And Moony said he’s a bit of a cunt."

"Moony calls everyone a cunt."

"True. I’ll give you that."

"He’s just a little bit cold when you first meet him."

"Melted him with your charm, did you, Potter?"

James smirks over his shoulder. "Damn right I did."

"Atta lad," Peter laughs loudly. "What time are you meeting pretty boy?"

"I’m getting a taxi to his for five," James glances at the clock on his nightstand. It’s just gone four. "Shit. Oh my— it’s four o’clock! How—what— I started looking for an outfit at two!"

"Yeah, tell me about it. We’ve been doing this for an hour, mate," Peter says. Though his tone is exasperated, James is too busy processing the fact that he spent two hours on choosing what he was going to wear and having organised nothing else.

"Prongs, mate, you’re fine for time," Peter says, apparently being able to read the panic on James’ face. "You’ve got an hour to get your last shit together and get your fine ass over to his."

"He lives in Kensington, Wormtail!" James yelps. "It’ll take me 50 minutes to get there by taxi at this time of day!"

"Ever heard of the tube?"

"His apartment is ages away from the tube station."

"How do you know that?"

"The first time I went round to his place," James admits. "I didn’t drive because I assumed we were going to pottery. The walk to his from the underground is like 20 minutes alone."

"Sounds like you need to leave now then."

"Thanks, Peter!" James shouts, scrambling around to throw the clothes back into his wardrobe and chest of draws with some form of order so they’re not left askew on his bedroom floor. "I can’t believe this is happening. I’m going to be so late. He’s going to think I’ve completely bailed. I don’t—"

"James!" Peter yells, and James freezes, and his next words come out so thick with his Scottish accent James can barely understand him. "Yer off your head, ya twat! Calm down, would you? Text him to say traffic is shite and you’re gonna be late. Take a breath, tie your fucking shoes and book a taxi in 10 minutes when you know you’ve got your shit together."

James blinks. He looks down at his shoes, where true to Peter’s assumption, the laces are still untied and sprung on the floor. Cheeks burning, he looks back at phone sheepishly.

"You’re right," he breathes, nodding. He runs a hand through his hair and straighten his glasses that have come askew on his nose in all of his manic haste to tidy up. "You’re right. Yeah. Thanks, mate. Okay. Text Reg, tie shoes, finish tidying, find wallet and keys and book a taxi. Got it. Great."

"This is painful to witness, y’know that, right?"

"I don’t need you anymore, Wormtail!" James hisses as he picks up his phone. "I will hangup on you if you keep on at me."

"Be my guest," Peter laughs. "This whole ordeal has been sickening. I haven’t even met this guy and I already feel sorry for him having to spend the evening for you when you’re in this much of a tiff."

"Fuck off."

"Watch the language, Potter. The foetus’ are next door, ya cunt."

James throws his hand up in despair before swiping Peter’s face up to text Regulus a quick apology text and a new ETA time.

He somehow manages to get his room remotely put back together, a taxi booked and ready to go in under 10 minutes.

"Go get that doctor ass, Prongs!" Peter cheers down the phone. "I heard doctors have big di—"

"Bye!" James hangs up abruptly, cheeks flaming a violent red as he slams the studio apartment door and shoves his phone in his pocket roughly.

He takes the stairs two at a time, descending quickly before spilling out onto the London pavement in a gangle of long limbs and flapping clothes. He practically stumbles into the taxi, breathlessly panting out Regulus’ address before he melting into the seat.

He feels exhausted already. So ridiculously worked up and nervous, and he hasn’t even seen Regulus in the flesh yet.

Did Regulus know how much of a date tonight is going to be? He didn’t make the comment over their texts about it not being a date, but nor did he confirm that he wants it to be either.

Did Regulus really think it wasn’t a date?

Can iceskating and dinner not be a date?

Regulus has barely texted James since he accepted the idea of iceskating and dinner, only the odd update to show he’s still alive here and there and the one confirmation that he likes Italian food when James was stressing over where to book dinner for.

His phone buzzes in his lap. He holds it with sweaty hands.

Regulus (16:43) you never did strike me as the type to be punctual. you’re lucky we hadn’t arranged to meet in public otherwise i wouldn’t be impressed with being left stranded to loiter in the streets

James rolls his eyes. If he’s learnt anything about Regulus so far, it’s that he’s an expressive drama queen.

Not that James would ever tell him that. He can’t imagine Regulus taking the observation well.

The taxi gets to Regulus’ flat building 15 minutes after five. Late, but not too late. James pays the guy with a stream of pleasantries before dashing out of the taxi like it’s on fire. He tries the front door, and like last time, it’s left on the latch so he can get inside. His legs are trembling underneath him as he ascends the stairs to Regulus’ floor. He wipes his hands on his trousers, brain telling his heart to calm the fuck down and stop beating so fast.

Standing outside Regulus’ front door, James freezes.

His heart is pounding so fast he feels like it’s crawling up his throat. The hallway suddenly feels dark and tiny, the walls tight and the air nonexistent in his lungs.

This isn’t the first time he’s meeting Regulus outside of his work. They’ve done it various times, and most of which have been on James’ invitation, just like this evening. There just feels like there’s so much pressure now. This was James’ idea, this was James’ intention, so what if Regulus doesn’t enjoy it? What if Regulus begins to hate him for it?

What if James annoys Regulus too much tonight? Will Regulus realise he really does repulse James like he always teases he does?

James really wants this, but what if Regulus doesn’t?

He just needs to knock. He needs to knock on the door, and as soon as he see’s Regulus he’ll feel better. Regulus always makes him feel happy, a lightness he hasn’t felt in a long time. The younger man makes James feel like he’s walking on air.

So, he just needs to knock.

Yet, he can’t bring himself to do it.

He barely has to move his hand to reach the wood of the door, but the task suddenly feels too hard.

He just—

The door swings open suddenly, and then there he is.

Regulus is staring at him, jaw set and a single dark eyebrow raised. James just stares back, face slack because wow, hello.

"I could hear your heavy breathing through the door," Regulus says, tone gruff but James practically melts. "Breathe any louder and even Darcy and Malcom will hear you."

James blinks stupidly. "Who?"

"My deaf neighbours downstairs," Regulus replies, already turning away from the door. He stops a few steps away, turning to face James and frowning. "Well, aren’t you coming in?"

"Oh— y-es," James stammers, stepping in.

The flat is warm, curtains still open to allow the setting sun to shine through, making the living room glow a soft yellow. It’s as tidy as it always it, with a tasteful amount of disorganisation with it’s overflowing books dotted in the empty spaces and blankets placed haphazardly over the backs of the sofas and chairs. Sylvester is stretched along the back of the sofa like a thick black scarf, but his green eyes are open and staring at James intensely, like he’s a mouse creeping into the room.

Regulus is placing a mug in the dishwasher before he’s rounding the kitchen island. It’s then that James gets a look at him.

His jaw promptly drops to the floor.

While Regulus has never looked bad, tonight he simply looks ravishing.

A perfectly fitted black sweater vest sits on top of a crisp white long sleeve shirt, the collar unbuttoned enough to show the dainty silver chain clasped around his long, pale neck. His hands are decorated with a collection of silver rings and finger nails painted a stark shade of black, making his fingers look even longer and thinner than before. His black trousers make his legs look a mile long but hug his ass like they were made for him, the legs folded up at the bottom enough to leave a section of space where his black socks are pulled up and his clean, unmarked Doc Marten shoes are tidied tightly on his feet.

So simple, the black so dark and contrasting with the white shirt and his pale skin, yet James feels like he can barely breathe looking at him. All sharp angles and long lines, he looks like he’s come straight out of a fashion magazine.

He feels ridiculously giddy, because Regulus just looks so good.

So good that James is itching to rip off the perfectly fitting clothes to see the masterpiece underneath.

Eyes mentally underdressing Regulus from toes to head, James lets his eyes travel up until they land on his face.

Only to find two sharp grey eyes staring at him.

"You done?"

James barely resists folding to the floor there and then.

"You look amazing," he breathes, barely coming out strong enough to be heard.

Regulus must hear him, though, as he rolls his eyes before turning around. He doesn’t turn quick enough to hide the red tint colouring his cheeks, and James heart ticks at the fact that he caused that.

"I wear things other than scrubs sometimes," Regulus replies, swiping the coat folded over the arm of the sofa. He shrugs it on, and then wraps a thick, warm looking emerald scarf round his neck too.

He suddenly looks both deadly and cuddly at the same time. It does dangerous things to James’ mindset.

"You just. . ." James licks his lips, heat pooling like an open wound in his stomach. Regulus looks up at him, storming eyes practically twinkling, his curls looking practically crafted around his head and so soft. James wants to run his hands through them, pull on them, yank on them to stretch Regulus’ head back and expose the skin on his throat to— "You look delicious."

Regulus blinks, looking startled and surprised. Pink decorates his cheeks, and his normally clenched jaw seems to loosen for a moment.

As quickly as it went, the younger man seems to snap back into his usual hard focus. He tilts his head slightly, eyes travelling down James slowly enough that it makes James wants to squirm. The dark eyes snap back up to his own, and then Regulus is curling his mouth into a sly, smug smile.

"You don’t look too bad yourself, Potter."

James feels frozen on the spot as Regulus leans over the sofa to give Sylvester a gentle stroke and scratch before stepping round the statue of a man in his living room.

"Well?"

James startles, turning around so fast he almost loses his balance. Regulus has already got the door open, and is staring at James with intent.

"Are we going?"

"Yes."

Fuck yeah, we are.

"You can skate, right?"

James looks up from where he’s tying the laces on his skates. Regulus is looking down at him, arms crossed over his chest.

"Of course," James grins, standing up and immediately wobbling into balance on the skates.

Regulus looks at him blankly before rolling his eyes. "Unsurprisingly, I’m not overly confident in your assurance to not completely embarrass yourself and me this evening."

"I’m not going to be embarrassing!" James defends, still grinning. "It’s going to be fun. Plus, no one can ever actually skate that well on these things. It’s for amateurs. It’s supposed to be embarrassing and funny."

"If you fall and break a bone, I’m not helping you."

"You’re a doctor!"

"I’m a neurologist," Regulus corrects pointedly. "I don’t do broken bones and bruised prides."

"Tomato, potato! Same thing!" James sings, slinging an arm round Regulus’ shoulder as they begin to walk (or hobble, in James’ case), to the door out onto the ice rink. "Don’t lie, Reg, I know you’ll pick me up when I fall."

"Don’t rely on that assumption too much, Potter," Regulus grumbles, the tension that shot through his body when James grabbed him slowly bleeding out. James tries not to giggle about the fact that Regulus is the perfect size tucked into his side.

When they get on the rink, James keeps a hand on the railing around the outside like a lifeline. So focused on getting his balance as he practically shuffles along the ice, he barely notices that Regulus is skating alongside him instead of following behind him like he’d expected.

James jolts in surprise.

"You can skate?" He asks.

Regulus raises an eyebrow, gliding slightly ahead of him with no effort to keep his unfazed balance.

"Yes. Clearly, you can’t."

"I’m just warming up," James argues.

Regulus’ eyebrows arch higher and sharper. His eyes flick momentarily to where James’ hand is gripping onto the railing. "Let go then."

James rolls his eyes, puffing his chest. Bracing his own balance, he pushes off the side. He looks at Regulus, who’s skated a few meters away from him and is watching him expectantly. James smirks, motioning down to himself to silently say ha, fuck you, I can skate!

And then, James lasts approximately six seconds before his legs are slipping beneath him and his arms are windmilling frantically. He’s on the ground before he can blink, flat on his back and cold ice seeping into his jacket.

Regulus’ face appears above him.

"I thought you said you could skate!" He yelps, high and loud.

The younger mans face is twisted with shock and a hint of concern, but James can’t even focus on that because Regulus looks ridiculously like an angel at this angle. Curls framing his face, the dark sky behind him, everything looking like a picture perfect painting.

"Are you okay?"

James blinks a couple of times, and then he nods, mouth widening into a cheeky grin. "Yeah. I’m good. A bit cold now, though," he laughs and holds a hand out, "Help me up?"

Regulus rolls his eyes, but grabs James’ hand with hesitation.

It takes an embarrassing two attempts to get up on the ice, and he almost drags Regulus down with him the first time. When he’s finally standing, his legs are wide and body stiff in falling again. Regulus is still gripping both his hands, both his own smaller and colder than James. He’s looking up at James with tension as if he’s waiting for James to just fall again.

"You okay now?"

"Could you, uh. . ." James chuckles shakily, "Can you help me get back to the railing?"

Regulus rolls his eyes again, and as he begins to guide James back to the edge of rink, his lips begin to curl upwards.

"What are you smiling for?" James asks, slightly distracted in how easy and effortless Regulus is managing to ice-skate backwards.

Regulus shrugs half-heartedly. "Just remembering how funny you looked when you stacked it onto your ass."

"Hey!" James cries in surprise, "That’s not very nice!"

Regulus chuckles softly as he guides James’ hands back to the railing. James’ chest instantly mourns the contact, and aches even more when Regulus begins to smoothly skate away from him.

"Wait! Come back!" James whines, scrambling to catch up with him while his skates slip and slide beneath him. "Don’t skate away from me!"

Regulus laughs darkly, and then promptly turns with the grace of a gentle gust of wind and is gliding away on the ice.

James watches, transfixed, as Regulus moves across the ice with confidence and grace of a ballerina. All thin limbs and strikes of dark clothing, he’s practically moving around like a professional. He makes it look effortless as he skates with the current of other people on the rink, weaving amongst them and gliding elegantly in circles in the space in the middle.

James is still standing in the same spot Regulus left him, his jaw so wide it’s practically on the floor. Regulus laughs at him as he drifts towards him.

"You. . ." James murmurs, then abruptly shakes his head. "You’re such a show-off! Where the fuck did you learn to skate like that?"

Regulus laughs and shrugs a shoulder. "I didn’t. I’ve only been skating a few times."

"That’s clearly bullshit!" James snaps, but he’s grinning so wide and his tone holds no heat. He’s simply blown away, because if Regulus wasn’t attractive before, watching him glide over the ice like he was a professional has sold the deal. "You. . . you’re amazing! No one can do that without training!"

"I swear, I’ve never done training," Regulus replies, scratching his neck beneath his scarf. "The first time I ice-skated was when I came back to London when I was 18. Me, Evan and Barty came the first Christmas together at university. I’m just naturally good at everything."

James scoffs, shaking his head. "Fuck me. You’re good, Reg."

"I know," Regulus smirks. He holds out a hand. "Come on, then."

"What?"

"Come on. You can’t stand there holding the railing the whole time. We only have an hour on the rink, and you’ve already wasted 15 minutes of it holding the side like a child or laying on your back," Regulus says. "Time to get your moneys worth, Potter."

James shakes his head. "Reg, seriously, I can’t skate."

"I know, but I can," Regulus’ face is soft, his arm still out stretched and pale hand inviting. "Come on, I won’t let you fall."

I won’t let you fall.

The five words are almost enough to knock James on his back alone. His breath gets trapped in his throat, and suddenly it’s like the chill in his bones is melted away.

Reluctance gone, James jolts to grab Regulus’ hand and lets himself be pulled from the railing.

The moment he’s an arms length away, reality sets in and James’ whole body tenses with fear.

"Fuck! Wait—" he gasps, legs wobbling. The ice feels so much more slippery when there isn’t a whole stable bar to hold onto. "Shit. Oh my god. Reg, I can’t—"

"Relax," Regulus says. "Seriously, Potter. Loosen up, you’re too tense. Relax your legs, bend your knees slightly. Trust me, you’ll fall faster if you try to skate as stiff as a board."

"Easy for you to say," James grumbles, but bends his legs as directed.

"Not that much," Regulus chides. "Bloody hell, Potter, you don’t need to bend over! There’s kids on the ice, keep it P.G."

"Regulus!" James gasps, snapping back into standing, and ultimately sending himself scrambling for balance once more. Flailing back and forth, a scream is on the brink of his tongue before Regulus is grabbing him by the waist and yanking him forward, making them flush together.

James gasps, but this time it’s with pleasant surprise.

Regulus looks up at him, but his arm doesn’t move from where it’s wound itself around James’ back.

"Stop messing around," he snaps, but James is more focused on the pink in his cheeks that is definitely not from the cold. "Or I’ll push you on your ass and leave you there."

"You wouldn’t," James grins.

Regulus merely responds with a quirk on his eyebrow, and James can barely resist the urge to reach up and run his finger gently over the sliver of dark hair there, to ease the tension in the smaller males forehead.

"Come on," Regulus murmurs. "Let’s teach you how to skate."

Ultimately, James does not learn how to skate by the time their hour is up. Regulus manages to stop him from falling over again, but James’ expertise only stretches to being able to bend his legs (slightly this time), and kick with enough gusto to carry him a small distance of space.

He doesn’t let go of Regulus’ hand until the very end when Regulus says to give it a try skating alone. James tries to protest, but Regulus has already detached their hands and slides away from him. When James freezes, arms outstretched and body frozen, Regulus chuckles at him.

"Come on, Potter," he says, skating around him in circles as if it’s as easy as breathing. "Like we’ve done. Just kick your legs slightly. You’ve done it with me, you can do it alone."

"Shut up, this is scary!" James whines. "And stop skating around me. You’re just showing off now and it’s putting me off."

Regulus chuckles again, gliding away slightly. Stupid show-off.

When the time comes for them to get kicked off, James is so startled by the whistle that his back straightens and his legs slide straight under him and Regulus laughs so loud it practically echoes through the whole of the Tower of London beside the ring.

James lays defeated on the ice, arms and legs spread, until Regulus skates over to him and stands by his head.

"Always graceful, ay, Potter?"

"Fuck off and help me up," James grumbles, and only when he’s standing and being guided back to the exit of the rink, Regulus’ arm looped through his own, does he add, "I thought you said you wouldn’t let me fall?"

"You told me to go away," Regulus argues. "How am I meant to catch you when you told me to give you space?"

James whines but cuts it short when he practically scrambles off the ice and onto safe, stable ground.

Regulus laughs at him again, and James can’t even tell him to shut up because he’s making a beeline to the desk to get his own shoes back. Romantic iceskating be damned, he’s never doing that again.

It takes him a moment to get his legs used to being back in shoes instead of balancing on a sliver of metal, but once he does, he practically skips out of the building with a humoured Regulus in tow.

"Well, that was fun," he beams.

"Indeed," Regulus nods, smirking. "I knew it would be fun watching you fall over."

"So mean."

"Where are we going for dinner?"

"You still like Italian, yes?"

"You asked me that two days ago, Potter," Regulus replies. "My food platter doesn’t change that fast that I no longer like a whole food group. Of course I still like Italian."

"Good," James grins, looping their arms once more. "Then you’re going to love this place."

"How far away is it?"

"Just round the corner."

"We’re going to Luca’s?" Regulus asks when they stop outside.

James’ stomach drops like a cold stone.

"Yes. That. . . is that okay?" He asks, "If you don’t like it here, we can go somewhere else. It’s no problem. I know some other places we could go. Or you can choose! Do you want to choose? We don’t even need to have Italian if you don’t want—"

"Woah, slow down," Regulus laughs lightly, hand resting on James’ chest. When he drops it, the space where his hand was burns. "It’s okay, James. I’ve never been here before, but Evan swears by it. I’ve always wanted to try it, but I’ve never had time when I’ve been in this area of the city."

"Oh," James murmurs, taking a few breaths. "Okay. Great! Shall we?"

Regulus nods, smiling slightly.

Inside, it’s as fancy as James expects. He’s never been before, but his mother said it was the best Italian place in London. The waiter walks them to the table, and James is grateful they’re not in the middle of the restaurant but instead slightly to the side where it’s not so loud. The soft glow of lights is complimented by the gentle flicker of the candles on the tables. The waiter hands them their menus, before asking their wine of choice.

James looks to Regulus, already feeling slightly out of depth.

"Do you like red, or white?" Regulus asks.

"White, I think."

Regulus smiles at him slightly before turning to the waiter. "White please, and a pitcher of water."

"Of course."

Regulus nods in thanks before turning to James.

"This isn’t your type of place, is it?"

James blushes sheepishly. "Is it obvious?"

"Yes," he replies, plucking the menu off the table and looking down at it. "But it’s also cute."

James blushes harder. Regulus called him cute.

"Is this your type of place?"

"Used to be," Regulus replies, still looking at the menu. "I guess old habits die hard."

"I wouldn’t say its a habit that needs to die, being able to eat in fancy restaurants."

Regulus looks up through his eyelashes and flashes him a shy smile. "I guess."

James picks up his own menu and is still browsing when the waitress brings them the wine and a porter of water.

"What are you thinking of having?" James asks.

Regulus hums, eyes scanning the menu still. "I’m thinking the gnocchi di patate, ragù di cervo e Sola, or maybe the pizzoccheri della Valtellina."

James blinks in surprise. "You. . . you can speak Italian?"

Regulus looks up at him, expression placid. "Vaguely. Enough to be able to not butcher the pronunciation when I’m eating in an Italian restaurant. I could have a conversation in Italian if I needed to, but I wouldn’t consider myself completely fluent."

"You. . ." James feels hot suddenly. "You can speak Italian and French?"

"And I know a bit of German," Regulus nods. "But I’d be hard-pushed to have a conversation with someone in German."

"Fucking hell," James breathes. "That’s. . . incredibly hot."

Regulus’ face flushes pink. "Oh. Uh, do you know. . . do you know what you want too order?"

"I feel self-conscious now trying to pronounce it."

Regulus smiles slightly. "Maybe read it in the English version then."

"The pasta parcels."

"Cappellacci di zucca e amaretti al burro e salvia."

James nods, grinning. "Exactly."

When the waitress comes to take their food orders, Regulus orders for both of them in flawless Italian. Even the accent sounds natural, and James’ toes curl at the way the words roll off the younger mans tongue effortlessly and smoothly. Like the few times James has heard him speak French, it makes his already smooth voice sound like liquid velvet.

It takes a lot of effort for James to not drool all over the table there and then.

When the waitress goes, Regulus turns back to James, who currently hasn’t got out of his slightly inappropriate thoughts about wanting to sink under the table and devour Regulus like a starter.

"James?"

"Yes?"

"You okay?"

"Smashing, why?"

"You look like you’re having a stroke."

James jolts, blinking hard. He plasters a smile on his face all the while mentally shooing away the thoughts that are highly inappropriate for a fancy restaurant table. "Nah. I’m good."

Regulus hums suspiciously and sips his wine.

"When did you learn Italian and German?"

"Started when I was 15," Regulus says, his tone taking on a slightly harder edge. James notices he does that a lot when he talks about anything in his life before he was 18. "I was homeschooled when I lived in France."

Regulus has been very private since they first met. James has been okay with it, of course, but he can’t ignore the fact that Regulus seems to know every detail of his life and gives nothing back. James has always wondered why, because whenever James brings up life before qualifying as a doctor, Regulus always manages to smoothly turn it on it’s head back to James.

"Where did you live before you moved to France?"

James tries not to think too much on the way Regulus’ shoulders tense into a sharp line at the question.

"I lived here," Regulus replies hesitantly. "I was born in London."

James almost gasps in surprise.

"You lived here?" When Regulus nods, James gasps. "No way! Did you got Hogwarts?"

"No."

"That’s a shame. If you had, we might have met!"

"We would have been in different school years."

"Still!" James beams. "Did you not like France, then? Is that why you moved back?"

Regulus’ jaw tightens so hard James can practically hear his teeth grinding. James’ chest tightens momentarily, wondering if he pushed Regulus too far.

Why is Regulus so worried about talking about his life? What is he trying to hide?

"You. . . you don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to," James murmurs, and he smiles gently when Regulus’ eyes snap up to meet his. "I didn’t mean to pry."

Regulus releases a shaky breath, and his face seems to collapse slightly in relief. "Thanks. I don’t. . . I don’t like talking about it. It was. . . lets say it wasn’t a good time."

"Well, I’m glad then that you came back to London," James replies, itching to reach out and take Regulus’ hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. "I’m glad you went to uni and met Barty and Pandora and Evan. I’m glad you qualified, and I’m glad I met you."

Regulus blinks, jaw slacking slightly. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, and then his face breaks out in a smirk.

"You’re a soppy bastard, Potter, you know that right?"

James rolls his eyes and grins, "Cheers, you absolute charmer."

James decides then to not bring up anything to do with Regulus’ time before London again. It’s clearly a sore subject, and he doesn’t want to see that tense distress on Regulus’ face again tonight. He doesn’t mind waiting a little bit longer to get to know Regulus’ history.

Deciding to change the subject to something far more interesting, James leans forward on his elbows and says, "So, tell me about dorm sharing with Barty in uni. I won’t lie, I’ve been dying to know what kind of a roommate he was considering my first impression of him was to run for the fucking hills."

That, at least, has Regulus throwing his head back and laughing.

By the time their food arrives, Regulus is in the middle of telling James a story about their first year at university where they took a night of drinking in the dorm room too far and ended with Evan having to have his stomach pumped in hospital, and how Regulus and Barty didn’t stay with him in hospital but instead ended up going to get a subway and being so drunk they completely forgot to go back and get him.

"You just went back to the dorm?"

"James, I can not express how obliterated we were. It took Barty forty minutes to eat a sandwich because he was so drunk he was trying to talk through his chewing and kept choking. I ended up dropping half of mine on the floor, then we were kicked out and were still so pissed we just wanted to sleep so we went home."

"What did Evan say?"

"He woke us up when he got back to the dorm in the morning by pouring the last of the Sambuca on us. The smell instantly made Barty vomit in his right in bed. I swear the smell  of that shit lingered for weeks. Barty ended up buying a whole new mattress because he couldn’t get the smell of Sambuca out of it."

Regulus tells James all the memories of him and Pandora sitting in the library all night with coffees and energy drinks revising for exams and clinical placements.

He talks about how Evan was the first of them to learn to drive and his parents bought him a fresh plate BMW as his first car, only for Pandora to crash it a week later when he was trying to teach her in a carpark and she managed to hit the only car in the carpark.

James almost chokes on his dessert laughing at the story Regulus explains about the time when during a game of drunk truth or dare they got Evan to run across the campus naked only to realise half way through all of them forgot their dorm keys to get back into the building and they had to phone maintenance to let them back in while Evan was standing stark bollock naked.

They’re on their third bottle of wine when they start talking about their own experiences as medical students and James mentions the time when he was doing his maternity placement and fainted the first time he saw a baby being born, smacked his head on the table and ended up spending four hours of the shift down in A&E being observed. Regulus laughs so hard James can't even chide himself for drunkenly revealing the story that currently only the Marauders know because he still so mortified.

It's only when James knocks over his last glass of wine do they pay and take their overdue leave. They stumble out onto the streets, having consumed so much wine and hardly moved for hours causing the bones in James' body to turn to jelly. He would have stacked it face first onto the pavement if Regulus hadn't caught him, yanking him arm so hard they ended up smacking into each other and staggering in a fit of giggles.

"Fucking hell, I hate wine," James whines and he loops his arm in with Regulus' and practically uses the smaller male to keep himself upright. "I never drink wine. I really, really hate it."

"I can tell," Regulus laughs. "You're like a child who's gone round at a wedding and stolen half the glasses. Can you even walk on your own?"

"No," James pouts, pressing his face into Regulus' hair - which ultimately knocks his balance off even more as he's not longer even looking where he's going. "Don't let go of me."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to. You're hanging onto my arm like a bloody koalas."

"Would you love me if I was a koala?"

"Absolutely not!" Regulus scoffs. "Do you have any idea how unsanitary they are? They all have chlamydia, Potter."

"Reggie!" James cries, tone petulant and whiny.

He abruptly tightens his grip on Regulus’ arm, yanking the smaller man into him and spinning them quickly.

"Woah, James—shit—" Regulus gasps, arms scrambling for purchase on James’ coat and struggling to stay upright as he’s practically plastered against James’ chest. "You’re insane! Are you trying to make us fall over?"

"No, just wanted to cuddle you," James smiles, looking down. He loves their height difference. Regulus is about half a head shorter, so not much, but enough that he slots against James like a perfect puzzle piece.

Regulus rolls his eyes, but his lips are tugging into a smile.

"You’re sickening, Potter."

"Please don’t mention sick," James grimaces. "I’ve drunk far too much wine for that word to be in tonight’s vocabulary."

"I’m getting you water."

"I don’t—"

"Stay here. I’m getting you a bottle of water from the shop."

Regulus leans James against a lamppost and runs into the convenient store on the corner. James feels like he’s barely blinked before he’s back and a bottle is being shoved into his hands.

He’s drank half of it when he notices something else in Regulus’ hands.

"What is that?"

Regulus pulls the large bottle away from his mouth and frowns in confusion, "It’s Chardonnay."

"You bought a bottle of wine?" James gasps, shaking the bottle of water in his hands for emphasis. "I thought we were sobering up?"

"No, you are sobering up," Regulus holds up the wine bottle, "I am keeping dosed up because I can still walk in a straight line."

James gapes, eyes flickering from the bottle to Regulus’ face in surprise.

"You are the last person I imagined to ever see drinking wine from the bottle in the middle of the streets."

Regulus smirks, quirking an eyebrow. "Maybe you don’t know me well enough then."

And with that, he takes a large and gloating gulp of wine without a single flinch.

James cackles a laughs, loud and manic. Regulus is truly full of surprises. He never imagined he’d see the usually uptight doctor doing something like this, and doing it with such ease it’s clearly not the first time he’s drunk wine from the bottle in public.

"You never cease to amaze me, Doctor Black."

"Yeah, yeah," Regulus waves a hand lazily. "Finish your water, Potter, and maybe then I’ll share some more of this with you."

James just stares as Regulus smugly continues to drink the wine from the bottle in an action filled with such ease it's as if he's drinking water from a container. James watches, focus impenetrable as Regulus' thin throat bobs and waves as he drinks, his Adams apple rippling beneath the tight skin. He looks at Regulus' curls, so perfect and fitting on his head, curling around his ears and laying gently on his forehead. He wants to run his fingers through it, wants to curl his hands around Regulus neck and feel his strong pulse beneath the skin. He wants to leave marks with his lips on ever inch of the skin he can see.

"Reg?"

The younger man looks at him. "Yes?"

James takes a breath, short and punched, and before he can stop himself he's surging forward, hands desperately but gently cupping Regulus' cheeks and smashing their lips together.

Regulus gasps against his mouth, but barely takes a moment to catch up and quickly kissing back. Slotted together, lips moving in sync, James' body feels like it's on fire. His veins are buzzing like live wires, his skin sensitive beneath his clothes. Everything suddenly feels so tight, so constricting apart from the weight of the body pressed against him.

He wants to do this forever. He wants to hold Regulus against him, feel the rush through his body as they kiss and moan into each others mouths. It feels addicting, and James is already craving it like a starved man. He doesn't want to stop, and when Regulus runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth slowly, James can't help but let out a deep groan.

Regulus pulls back first, but only enough that their foreheads are still pressed together, James' neck craned down and Regulus' stretched up. They're both panting, and James' lips feel hot and swollen.

"Come back to mine," James breathes, the words coming out in a rushed, desperate demand.

"Okay," Regulus nods. "Yeah. Okay."

James grins, letting his hands drop from Regulus' face and winding them around his shoulders instead.

"Phone a taxi," Regulus says, "I don't think either us will be able to wait for the train."

Oh.

Yes.

"I like the sound of that," James murmurs, stealing another kiss before pulling out his phone.

They finish the wine while they wait, and James feels the familiar pleasant buzz again when they climb into the taxi.

Its then that it suddenly occurs to James that he has a roommate, and he's currently inviting Regulus back to their flat to hopefully rip each others clothes off.

He rushes to text Sirius.

James (21:42) are you home?

"You okay?"

James looks across the taxi. Regulus is so close yet so far across the seats, looking delicious in his scarf and pea coat.

James nods, feeling his cheeks heating with the sudden onslaught of thoughts about tearing the scarf from around Regulus' neck and mouthing at the heat of his collarbones.

"Yes. Just checking we have a free flat to go back to."

"You think your flatmate will be in?"

"I doubt it. He's probably at Moony's."

Sirius replies in good time considering James is barely holding back the itch to move across the seats and connect his and Regulus' mouths again.

Sirius (21:45) at moonys. why?

Sirius (21:46) OMFG YOU'RE BRINGING THE CUTE DOCTOR HOME AREN'T YOU?

James (21:46) neither confirm or deny. just do us both a solid and don't come home tonight!

Sirius (21:46) GO GET SOME PRONGS!!!!

Rolling his eyes, James pockets his phone before quickly unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding into the middle seat. His arm is around Regulus' shoulders before he younger man can blink.

"Free house confirmed," he murmurs into Regulus' ears, grinning wildly when he feels the younger man shiver against him.

Regulus smirks, turning his head so their lips are brushing, grey eyes so close and despite it making James' vision blur, he can feel the intensity of the hooded gaze.

"How splendid," Regulus mutters, breath hot on James' skin and if that doesn't make James want to rip his clothes off, then when Regulus starts mouthing at the corner of James' jaw does it.

Trousers becoming uncomfortably tight, James squirms. His breath becomes slightly faster, body coiling in anticipation.

"Careful," Regulus whispers, grazing his teeth along the lobe of James' ear. James groans softly, breathing hard. "Wouldn't want to make it obvious to the taxi man you're having too much fun."

"You're a fucking menace, Regulus Black," James hisses. "Teasing isn't very nice."

"No," Regulus grins, nipping at his ear softly with a chuckle. "But it is rather fun, don't you think?"

"I hate you," James sighs, though it comes out shaky and choked.

Regulus' laugh is low and rumbles through James like a shockwave.

"You can get your own payback when we're at your flat," the younger man teases. "I dare you."

The taxi takes far too long, but when it finally arrives, James practically throws the money at the driver before shoving Regulus and himself out. He's barely got two feet on the pavement before he's grabbing Regulus by the collar and smashing their lips together once more. He feels like adrenaline and arousal has replaced all the blood in his system. He feels hot and sweaty, his heart racing and his muscles surging with energy.

Regulus laughs against him, arms wrapping around his neck and tugging at the hairs at the base of his skull. He moans into James' mouth, biting his lip between sharp teeth. He tastes like wine, sweet and sour and addicting.

James walks them to the door without breaking apart, unlocking the main door with ease. It's only when they're inside and Regulus' ankles collide with the stairs and almost send them tumbling does the younger man push on James' chest.

"Maybe we should stop for a moment," he pants.

"Reg," James whines in displeasure.

"Patience, Potter. I don't fancy being undressed in the hallway for all to see," Regulus replies. "It's not for everyone's pleasure."

"Right," James croaks. He swallows thickly, nodding frantically and desperately trying to gather some form of a clear thought. "You're right. Yeah. We should-- we should--"

"Let's go, Potter."

Regulus grabs his hand, leading them up the stairs faster than James has ever seen the young male move. James can barely remember to keep one foot in front of the other as his eyes are practically glued to the clothed ass in front of him. Regulus' trousers really are perfect in a sense that they show off everything.

When they get to James' floor, he practically throws himself to unlocking it. Regulus takes the moment to teasingly run his fingers over his shoulders, tracing down his back and being incredibly distracting.

"Regulus, has anyone ever told you that you're an absolute menace?"

Regulus hums, biting softly into James' coat covered shoulder before murmuring, "Maybe once or twice."

James swings the door open, turning enough to grab Regulus as he steps inside. Their lips are connected in a desperate, hungry heat before James has even got the door closed behind them. Regulus kisses him with more gusto and drive than before, hot breath mingling.

Suddenly, Regulus moves to kiss along his jaw, moving down his neck as he pushes James gently against the closed front door. James lets him, going easily as his body feels as if it's being set on fire everywhere Regulus' lips and hands travel.

Regulus stops for a moment, looking up at James with huge eyes and flushed cheeks. There's a glint in his eyes, a hunger in his whole expression that makes James feel so weak at the knees he feels as though he's melting against the door.

Regulus smirks, swollen lips stretching.

Then suddenly, hands are on James' trousers, the belt and zip undone before James' muddled brain can catch up. Regulus kisses him once on the lips, hooking a finger along James' boxer band in a slow, agonisingly teasing way, and then he's sliding down to the floor and takes James' trousers and boxers down with him.

James barely has time to gasp in surprise as his cock springs free, hard and aching. Regulus licks up the underside slowly and steady, resting his lips barely against the dripping head. James looks down, panting like he's run a marathon. The sight of Regulus looking up through ridiculously dark and long lashes is enough to almost send him over the edge, and then Regulus is taking him in full.

James lets out a low and long, stuttering groan as the heat of Regulus' mouth surrounds him. His knees are trembling embarrassingly beneath him, threatening to give out as Regulus swallows his whole length. His entire body is on fire, but the focus is in his cock as it throbs and pulsates to the rhythm of Regulus' mouth surrounding him.

"Fuck!" he curses, panting through an open mouth.

He can't help but run his fingers through Regulus' hair and giving the dark locks a testing tug. When Regulus hollows his cheeks, James lets out a groan and drops his head back against the door with a loud thump. He's panting, sweat dotted along all of his body. He's trembling, brain short-circuiting because holy fuck fuck fuck! How is Regulus so good at this?

He feels completely consumed by pleasure. His mind is offline to everything but the wet heat surrounding his cock. Regulus is teasing him, teetering him along the edge slowly and quickly all at once. He can't help but grind once or twice, his hips practically twitching against his control.

He's getting close, so close, and if Regulus doesn't stop now he's not going to be able to hold back. His stomach is in knots, every part of him pulsating and hot and tight and—

"R-Reg," he gasps, groan punching out from deep in his throat. "Reg, I'm gonna— if you don't stop, I-I'm gonna—"

Apparently hearing his warning, Regulus gently cups his balls, grazes his teeth slightly in a way that has James shuddering breathlessly. He hollows his cheeks once more, not slowly in the slightest.

"Re-Reg—" James groans. "I’m— fuck!"

His orgasm rips out of him and makes his vision white out. His legs go boneless, and the only thing that keeps him up is the door behind his back.

Breath stolen, he stutters out as Regulus swallows, the wet heat of his mouth barely affected by the sudden orgasm against him, milking him to the very last inch of its ability.

James feels weak and shaking when it's over, cock over sensitive as Regulus pulls back with a wet pop. Unable to catch his breath, he's gasping when Regulus pulls his trousers and boxers back up and stands straight.

James pants, taking in the swollen red lips and messy hair in front of him. Regulus looks completely wrecked, and James can't even begin to imagine how debauched he must look himself.

"Holy fuck," James croaks. "How the fuck did you learn how to do that?"

"I told you," Regulus rasps, smiling, and bloody hell he sounds so fucking good like that. "I'm good at everything."

"You're damn right about that," James mutters, jolting forward and crashing their lips together again in a bruising and messy kiss.

He can't help it, and he doesn't care that he can taste himself on Regulus' tongue because, sue him, Regulus is like the most addicting drug on legs right now. He pushes himself flush against Regulus, hands gripping the small of his back tightly, roaming the expanse of the younger mans back. Regulus groans against him when James cups and squeezes his ass, their breaths mingling, and James can't wait anymore.

He grabs Regulus from under the legs, yanking him up. Regulus' legs wrap around his waist instantly, grinding their groins together and their lips never disconnecting. Every moan and groan sends shock waves straight down James' spine and along his already re hardening dick again.

Without needing to see, he walks them, Regulus' legs wrapped around and the younger man's arms and hands in his hair, tugging and messing it up as their lips move in sync. The kiss is hot and messy, desperate and devouring like their lives depend on it.

In his room, James waits until he feels the edge of his bed hit his shins before he's lowering Regulus down, laying the younger man flat on his back. Fire burns down James's spine like a ball rolling, hitting every vertebrae one by one. He feel hot and tight, his boxers uncomfortable. He moves from Regulus' mouth, kissing along his cheek bones, over the sharp curve of his jaw. He kisses down his neck, mouthing at the pulsating point he's been thinking about all evening. Regulus is panting and squirming underneath him, making the most delicious sounds when James crawls down his body, shucking up the black sweater vest and begins to mouth at the perky nipple beneath the white shirt still covering him.

"F-fuck," Regulus whispers as James tightens his grip on his waist, sounding breathless.

He pulls back, out of Regulus' reach and pulls the hem of Regulus' sweater vest. Moments later, the fabric is flying over Regulus' head, his curls going wild and bouncing from the momentum. James unbuttons the white shirt slowly, kissing the skin down Regulus’ chest and torso as it becomes more and more exposed. When he undoes the last button, letting the unbuttoned shirt still on his arms and shoulders pool at his sides.

James’ mouth waters and his hands burn with a desperate need to reach out and touch. Regulus’ chest is smooth and hairless, his torso long and hips deliciously narrow. He’s thinner than he’d appeared with the shirt and vest on; but the skinniest suits him with the way the lines of his ribs stand under the skin that’s so pale that a roadmap of blue veins are visible across the flat expanse of his stomach.

James licks his lips, mouth salivating, throat tightening. His eyes scan over every inch and centre meter of Regulus' body, laid out below him.

Regulus' blushes, cheeks glowing a cherry red, and looks up at James with enormous grey eyes. James's hands trail down Regulus' slim sides, touch light and teasing. Regulus shivers and trembles beneath him, gasping when James brushes the pad of his thumb over one of nubs of his nipples.

Regulus grinds up against him again, breathless and restless.

"Come on, James," he whines. It’s riveting to hear the younger man be the one begging for the first time tonight.

"Patience," James whispers, leaning down to kiss the groove of Regulus’ sternum and begins to trail kisses down again.

He didn’t realise how long Regulus was considering he’s a head shorter than James, but it takes what feels like a lifetime before James is finally at the zip of Regulus’ trousers.

He unzips it slowly, deciding to torture Regulus like the younger man has done to him far too many times tonight. Regulus’ hips buck sharply, a high whine coming from up the bed. James risks a glance, and heat pools inside him when he sees Regulus practically withering, chest heaving and breaths coming out like punches.

Pulling the trousers down and grinning, James gently brushes his fingers over the obvious swell of Regulus’ pants he’s left clothed over the younger mans cock. Regulus curses, letting out a small growl.

"James, I swear to fuck if you take any longer, I’m going to—"

James doesn’t let him finish.

Instead, he yanks down the last remaining clothing protecting Regulus’ modesty and watches as the hard and straining cock bounces free. His mouth floods with saliva, when Regulus' cock hits his stomach with a wet noise, making James bite back a moan. Regulus rushes to kick off his trousers and boxers so they’re off his legs, James helping get them past his feet when the younger male begins to flail frantically to get them all the way off.

Regulus lets out the longest, most obscene moan, borderline a cry, when James takes his cock in his large hand. He jacks slowly, stroking and teasing the end.

Regulus writhers and quivers underneath him, head thrown back on the pillows and mouth open in a breathless moan.

"You. . ." Regulus starts, breath hitching, "You need to be naked too."

James raises an eyebrow, smirking as he huskily murmurs, "Do you want me to stop?"

"I want to see you," Regulus corrects, voice high. "But don’t you dare stop."

James smiles, letting go. Regulus sits up like a shot, his long fingers scrambling to unbutton James’ shirt. James shoves down and kicks off his trousers and boxers, and when he’s finally naked too he crawls up from the end of the bed, inch by inch over the long, thin legs, like a wave rolling over the pebbles of a shore. He hovers above Regulus, the younger mans dick pressing against his stomach, red and strained. James leans down, licking a long stripe up the shaft, twirling his tongue over the sensitive head.

Regulus curses, melting into the bed, spread out and bucking up his hips.

James takes Regulus in whole, and the sound that comes out of Regulus' mouth is absolutely astounding: long, stretched out moans and swallowed whimpers. James spares a glance up, finding Regulus panting, face flushed and eyes blown.

That's it.

He needs to be in Regulus soon.

Regulus makes a protesting noise when James pulls his mouth off, and the older male shushes him, rubbing his large palm over Regulus’ stomach as he reaches over the bed and plucks the bottle of lube out of the top bedside cabinet draw.

James generously coats his fingers before he reaches down and circles Regulus' hole slowly, slicking him up. He takes Regulus in his mouth again, and then slides a finger in. Regulus is tight and hot, moaning loudly as James opens him up slowly.

He slides in a second finger.

"Fuck, James!" Regulus cries abruptly, back arching.

He hollows out his cheeks around Regulus' cock, feeling them grind against the firm flesh, before sucking off with an audible sound.

"Soon," he promises.

He works his fingers quickly, scissoring them to stretch Regulus as fast as he can. It only takes a few minutes before James has a third finger in, working and thrusting his digits into Regulus' hole.

"Fuck," Regulus curses, "Get inside me. I'm ready, James. Just— please! James—"

Regulus incoherent begs and pleas are cut off when James's fingers slip free and he grabs a condom from the same bedside draw as the lube, ripping it open and sliding it on.

"Shh, I got you," he murmurs, getting up on the bed and lining himself up, dick nudging against Regulus' hole. He pushes forward an inch, the ring of muscle stretching around the head. He stares at it for a moment, listening to Regulus moan, his own breath punched out of his lungs. James grabs hold of Regulus' hips before he slides in completely, his cock disappearing inside Regulus.

Regulus' hole is hot and tight around James. He stills for a second, drinking in the moment of complete bliss. He doesn’t want to hurt Regulus, and while he’s fighting the urge to go slow, he knows he needs to.

Except…

"James," Regulus growls sharply, "Move."

James says nothing, just takes one look at Regulus' face below him before he pulls back and slams in. Regulus screams in pleasure underneath him, meeting James's deep and quick thrusts. After a while, he switches and goes along for the ride as James slams into him, moaning and grunting. James finds Regulus impossibly breathtaking below him, neck and collarbones purple with love-bites, eyes closed and face lax. His hair is darker with sweat, the curls laid out around his head like a fucking halo. There is a single curl against his forehead, bouncing and springing with each thrust between them.

James grips Regulus' hips so hard as he moves that he isn't going to be surprised to move him hands and find bruises underneath. The sight of Regulus spread out beneath him makes James want more, need and ache for more. He pushes Regulus' legs further open and presses his body flush with the smaller one beneath him. He attaches his lips to Regulus’, biting his bottom lip.

James grabs underneath one of Regulus’ knees, bending it up at the same time that Regulus raises his pelvis to meet his own.

"James—fuck! I'm gonna— I need—"

"Regulus," James cuts him off, sliding a hand between their stomachs and taking Regulus' leaking cock between his fingers. He tilts Regulus' hips up, nailing his prostate and thrusting faster as he strokes the slick member between them. "I've got you," he murmurs over Regulus' whimpers, "Come for me, Regulus."

Regulus screams as he comes, nails scratching down the skin of James's back. His hole clenches and spasms around James's cock, pulsating and pushing James over the last hurdle before he's coming too. His second orgasm is punched out of him. Regulus moans his name, his spilling cock coating their stomachs.

Panting, James rests his forehead against Regulus', barely stopping himself from collapsing on the younger male. Regulus wraps his arms weakly around James's shoulders, a loose attempt to hug hims while James runs his hands up and down the smaller mans flank.

For a long time, all that can be heard is fast and hard panting between them. The room is filled with the smell of sweat and sex.

After a moment, James pulls out, both of them groaning from the movement. He quickly pulls off the condom, tossing it in the bin by the chest of draws and making a mental note to definitely change that later. He collapses heavily on his back on the bed, their sweaty sides flush.

"Holy shit," James heaves, lungs burning.

Regulus laughs beside him, a low rumble. James looks out of the corner of his eye to see Regulus run a hand through his hair.

"That was incredible," James adds, because really, it fucking was. It has never been that good, and he feels a whole kind of different drunk now. "Holy shit."

"Yeah," Regulus breathes beside him. "Holy shit, indeed."

James feels giddy. Every muscle in his body aches, but holyfuckfuck does he feel so good.

"Do you want a cigarette?"

James swivels his head, still trying to catch his breath. "What?"

Regulus looks at him. His cheeks are still flushed, and he’s still got his shirt on and unbuttoned, showing off the glint of sweat on his pale chest.

"Did I not speak English?"

"You smoke?"

"Sometimes," Regulus shrugs. "Mostly when I drink. Nothing beats a cigarette after sex, though."

James blinks in surprise. "But. . . you’re a doctor?"

"Thank you reminding me," Regulus sighs. "You aware of how many health care professionals smoke despite the health issues it entails?"

James thinks for a moment. Then nods solidly, "Valid point."

"Lovely, glad we got that clarified," Regulus huffs. "So, I’ll ask again; cigarette?"

"You got some? Because I don’t think there’s any here."

"Got some in my coat pocket," Regulus nods. "Can I borrow a top? This one is slightly sweaty now."

James grins in satisfaction. "Top draw of the dresser. I’ll grab us some shorts too."

He grabs two from the wardrobe, slipping the first pair on and turning around in time to see Regulus’ bare back and shoulders as the younger man swiftly strips the shirt and slips on a grey cotton long sleeve.

James almost trips on his own feet as he drinks in the brief sight of the narrow stretch of shoulders and the skin of his back milky white, smooth and covered in a littering of freckles. His eyes quickly travel down, catching a glimpse of a pinched, tight waist that James wants to wrap his hands around as fast as he can.

The moment is gone when Regulus turns around, but James’ brain still can’t quite catch up with what’s happened.

When his eyes finally flick up and meet the grey eyes across the room, he sees Regulus’ face sly and knowing. The guy knows exactly what he’s caused inside James’ head.

"Enjoying the view?" He asks.

James opens his mouth to answer, but nothing manages to come out. Regulus laughs softly, then holds his hand up.

"Come on," he says. "Gimme them. I want to smoke."

James tosses the shorts across the room. When Regulus slips them on, they barely stay up even after Regulus tightens the drawstrings, leaving them hanging loose on his hips as he leaves the room.

James practically runs to follow him, and when Regulus has retrieved the box and a lighter from his cot pocket, he leads them both to sit by the large window in the living room.

They smoke in silence for a few minutes, both of them basking in the serenity of the moment. James allows the cigarette to relax him again, leaning against the wall and glancing at the other male across from him.

Regulus has his eyes closed, head resting back against the wall to slightly stretch his neck. He looks so tranquil, dark curls slightly damp on his forehead, bow lips still red from all the kissing, cheekbones more defined by the shadows of the dim studio loft.

James can’t decide if he wants to cuddle him or rip his clothes off again.

Preferably, he’d like to do both.

Multiple times again.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a slutty waist?"

Regulus’ eyes snap open and he looks across at James incredulously. "What?"

"You have a slutty waist," James repeats. "Did you know that?"

"You— I— no one— what?"

James chuckles. Regulus’ cheeks are practically glowing and he’s looking at James like he’s grown a second head, but the older man doesn’t care. "Speechless?"

Regulus blinks a few times, so fast he looks like he’s merely fluttering his eyelashes. "In shock, I think."

"Well," James shrugs, taking a drag, "you deserve to know."

"Wasn’t aware I had a waist," Regulus murmurs in-between intakes, exhaling smoke as he speaks."I’ve always been told I have the bean-pole kind of figure."

"Oh, you do. You are quite skinny, almost alarmingly so, but you have got a lovely waist."

Regulus smiles, tilting his head.

"A slutty one?"

James nods, smug, "A slutty one."

Regulus hums, eyes intense as they stare at James with a daring kind of tease.

"What makes it so slutty?" He asks.

"The fact that just looking at it makes me want to bend you over the table."

Regulus’ eyes widen and he lets out a shaky breath. James smiles, stomach already pooling with heat again and he brings the cigarette to his lips to distract himself from the temptation to grab Regulus by the neck and mark any skin he can get his lips on.

"Finish your cigarette, Potter," Regulus grunts, flicking his own dead butt out the window quickly. He stands up abruptly, already walking back to the bedroom as he calls, "I’ll show you what else this slutty waist can do."

James tosses the cigarette immediately.

Regulus has barely made it past the bedroom threshold before James is running in and tossing them both back into the bedsheets.

James wakes slowly, but then the slight pounding in his temples makes itself known. Fuck, he hates wine so much. He hasn't drank that much since his graduation over a year ago, and with good reason. Too much wine makes his head feel like it's filled with loose and rattling marbles using his skull as a sounding board.

Groaning, he stretches so his back pops and shoves his face deeper into the pillow. Last night comes back to him in a tidal wave and, face hidden still, a smile curls around his lips.

Regulus.

James rolls over, hand reaching out to the other side of the bed expecting to feel a warm body wrapped in the sheets.

His hand meets nothing but cold mattress.

Eyes snapping open, he finds the other side of the bed empty.

He pulls himself into a sitting position, body disgruntled by the sudden movement. He listens, waiting for the familiar sound of the toilet flushing or the shower being on incase Regulus is in there.

He's met with total silence.

"Reg?" He calls, climbing out of bed. He swipes a pair of boxers from the draw, stumbling out of the room on unsteady, slightly wine-drunk legs.

Regulus isn't in the lounge, or the kitchen, or by the window smoking.

The flat around James is empty.

— tbc.