carpe diem

22

REGULUS

"Is your dad happy?"

"He’s over the moon," Pandora replies, smiling wistfully. 

Regulus can’t stop himself from smiling back, her emotions as contagious as they have been all evening.

They’re laying side by side on his bed in his flat. With all the drama between Barty and Evan, with Regulus and Pandora squashed firmly in the middle, and Pandora’s engagement just over a week ago, Regulus decided that the two of them needed some time together. Regulus has been swamped with shifts due to staff sickness, and Pandora has been drowning on dry land beneath her midwifery studies, so the two of them haven’t been able to find the time to actually meet in person since she turned up at his flat the night Xeno proposed. 

When Regulus finished his shift today at half past six, he went straight to Pandora’s to pick her up. After a quick shower at his own flat and a change of clothes, they went out for dinner to finally have the heavily overdue catch-up and gossip. Dinner and a few drinks wasn’t enough, and Regulus didn’t hesitate to agree to Pandora coming back to his flat. They’ve had sleepovers before, mostly during university, back when they were all camping together to study into the early hours of the morning and then crashing over their text books. Regulus has to wake up at five the next morning, but he doesn’t care and neither does Pandora. He’s finally got her with him again, and neither of them are ready to cut the evening short for the sake of a full nights sleep. 

Plus, it’s not the first time they’ve shared a bed, and it probably won’t be the last.

Regulus has an affection for Pandora so strong he’s sure they’re platonic soulmates. He loves her like a sister, cares for her more than anyone else, and he knows the same feelings are reciprocated. Her achievements are his most precious memories, her successes bring him more pride than his own, and her happiness brings him a sense of ease in his chest. 

Now, both of them dressed each in a pair of Regulus’ pyjamas, lying side by side on his bed with Sylvester stretched out between them, Regulus feels a sense of peace and comfort he only ever feels when he’s with Pandora. It’s a scary vulnerability, like he’s stripped raw and exposed, but when he’s with Pandora, it’s like a safety blanket is wrapped around him, protective and accepting and warm.

"We need to have a proper celebration," Regulus says softly, running his fingers absentmindedly through the soft fur of Sylvester’s back, emitting rumbling purrs of pleasure from the small feline. "When Barty and Evan get their shit together, the four of us need to celebrate."

"We do," she replies. 

"It’s the end of an era," Regulus muses. "One of us is getting married."

"It’s not going to change anything," she whispers, and Regulus can see the fear in her face then.

"It will, but it will be good," Regulus flashes her a supportive smile. "Change can be good sometimes."

"Coming from the person who hates change," she teases.

Regulus rolls his eyes. "I don’t hate change. I just generally dislike the people that come with it. I feel like it’s justified though, as most changes so far in my life has been pretty catastrophic."

"James hasn’t been."

"Not entirely," Regulus agrees, then he grimaces, "But with James came Sirius, and that was a pretty big mind-fuck." 

"I think you handled it beautifully," Pandora praises easily, stroking his hair off his forehead, her face soft and eyes bright. "I don’t know anyone who would have been able to handle and react to a situation like that with such grace, maturity and courage like you did."

"It was hardly courageous," Regulus huffs. 

He didn’t feel courageous.

Not in the slightest. 

When he met Sirius again back in January, he felt the weakest he’s ever been. He felt 17 again. 

Alone, vulnerable, hurt. 

He felt as courageous as a mouse going nose to nose with a wolf.

"It was. You were," she argues, voice firm and with no room for argument. "You still are, Regulus. You faced your demons, dealt with such a hardship from the past, and you dealt with it the best anyone could."

Regulus can’t help but grin widely. "Did you just call Sirius a demon?"

"Anyone who played a part of the pain that almost destroyed you is worse than the devil himself in my eyes," Pandora grumbles, mouth twisted with a slight snarl. "He may be your brother, and he may be trying, but whatever type of relationship the two of you have in the future, I will never forget and forgive what he did to you."

"Thank you," Regulus whispers, voice shaking with the exhale. 

"Always," she smiles, and she curls around Sylvester to rest their foreheads together. "We’re a family, Reg. In everything but DNA."

"I know," Regulus whispers, shuddering with the emotion suddenly inside him.

"I know Barty and Evan feel the same too," she continues. "They’re still so angry for you. It hurt us all to hear what you went through, to know how long you carried it alone."

"I never felt alone," Regulus argues. "You may not have known, but you all helped. Ever since I met you all, everything has been easier. I couldn’t have done any of it without you all."

"I wish we could have done more," she says, squeezing his hand.

"You’ve been enough," he promises firmly. "We just need to stay together."

Because I don’t know how to deal with the demons in my wardrobe without the three of you.

"Do you think they will?"

Regulus pulls back slightly and looks at her, confused. "What?"

"Evan and Barty," she answers. "Do you think they’ll get their shit together?"

"I hope so," Regulus sighs heavily, rubbing his eyes. "Do you?"

"I do," she nods. "I think they love each other too much."

"Sometimes that’s the problem."

"Always so cynical, mon étoile (my star)," she huffs. "Love is beautiful, and what they feel for one another is so complicated but so precious. As soon as they realise it doesn’t need to be as complicated as they’ve made it, as soon as they allow themselves to appreciate the special affection they have and could grow with, they’ll be fine."

"You think?"

"I pray, because nothing will be the same if they stop talking."

"I think I got through to Barty. He seemed less… high-strung after we spoke," Regulus replies wearily. He feels thoroughly exhausted by Barty and Evan’s emotions, and he isn’t even part of the relationship. "He’s just scared. He just needs time."

"We’ll give him time," she nods easily. "Evan needs it too. It’s scary learning something like that about yourself. It’s a huge thing to accept, but they have our support every step of the way."

"Of course," Regulus agrees. "I’d appreciate if they hurried it up though, especially now we have an engagement to celebrate."

"I can wait until they’re sorted," she smiles. "It won’t be the same if one of them isn’t there." 

"It would be quieter," Regulus shrugs, grunting when Pandora punches him in the arm.

"Don’t be mean!"

"Désolé, ma chérie (Sorry, my darling)," he grins. "But don’t worry about them. They’ll sort themselves out in their own time. And while they do that, you just focus on yourself and Xeno." 

Unsurprisingly, both Evan and Barty have been saying in the group chat that they need to meet up and celebrate, but Pandora has been feeding the excuses to delay it. Regulus understands, because despite how hard they’ll try to be civil and pretend everything is fine for Pandora, it won’t be the same. This is the biggest moment as a group they’re having so far, and Pandora deserves to celebrate it with her friends being more than just civil. 

If Pandora is happy to be patient and wait for them then she can do that, and Regulus will support her, but he’s still annoyed about it. If the other two don’t sort themselves out soon enough Regulus is going to organise a celebratory night out without them out of pure spite. 

"It’ll be a bit late, but we’ll give you the best celebration night out ever," Regulus promises. "I’ll make sure they make it up to you."

"They don’t need to," she replies softly. "I’ll wait as long as it takes so we can all do it together."

You’re a better person than me, Regulus thinks. 

"This is meant to be about you. This is your engagement, your wedding, Pan. Even if I have to lock them in a room and get them to fight it out like fucking animals, I will make sure they don’t take this from you."

"Thank you," she laughs, kissing his nose.

She settles back, stroking Sylvester. Her eye catches the ring on her hand, and she bits her lip has she breaks out in another giddy grin.

"I can’t believe it’s real," she breathes, admiring the diamond on her finger.

"It’s impressive, that’s what it is."

"So materialistic," she rolls her eyes. "Xeno could have given me a Haribo ring and I’d still be over the moon."

"Of course you would be," he teases. "Are you happy?"

"So happy," she whispers, voice thick. She takes a shuddering breath then, sniffing slightly. "It’s just so bittersweet." 

Regulus reaches out, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. He can’t imagine how she must be feeling, seeing the sadness on her face now. Through all the celebrations, through all the haze of surprise and joy, nothing is going to get Pandora to forget her mother isn’t going to be seeing it.

"Chérie (Darling)…"

"I miss her," Pandora croaks, eyes wet and glistening.

Regulus’ heart twinges painfully. 

"I know," he whispers, the grief coming off her in waves and suffocating him.

He hates this. He hates that it still hurts her. He hates that something that is supposed to be so wonderful, so happy, is going to have a gloomy fog around it because her mum isn’t there. 

Regulus can’t imagine what she must be feeling. Regulus doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a parent. Walburga and Orion didn’t love Regulus, they didn’t care for him. Their absence at his wedding, if he ever gets married one day, isn’t going to be painful but instead a blessing. He doesn’t want them there, and he wouldn’t miss them one bit. The head table will be empty on his side and he wouldn’t care.

For Pandora, her mother was a wonderful woman. She was kind and caring and loving. She was the light of the room every time she walked in, and she was ripped away from her family too soon. It hurts, and it’s going to be painful knowing she’s not there to see the day her daughter gets married.

A tear rolls down Pandora’s cheek, disappearing as quickly as it appeared but leaving a glistening streak in it’s wake. 

"I’m scared to do it without her," she confesses shakily. "She’s meant to be there. She’s meant to see me get married."

A sob escapes her, her eyes squeezing shut and more tears spilling out. Regulus doesn’t hesitate to nudge Sylvester out of the way and pulls her against him. She curls up, shoulders shaking with quiet cries. Her head tucks into his chest, arms grasping desperately at his hoodie.

He holds her, heart breaking so violently in his chest. It does’t matter that it’s been three years, seeing Pandora break down in grief doesn’t hurt any less.

Grief isn’t linear, it’s a fucking minefield and no amount of time dissolves the pain of losing a parent. It’s always going to hurt Pandora, even if it doesn’t cripple her everyday anymore. She’s been so strong with it, so brave, but it’s not something one just 'gets over'. Pandora has had to learn to live with it, to adapt to a life without her mother, and no amount of time or distraction or acceptance will ever fully remove the pain. 

"She’s with you, Pan," Regulus whispers into her hair, tightening his arms around her. "You can’t see her, but she’s with you. All the time. She’ll be there on your wedding day too, standing right beside you, holding your hand," he breaks off to breathe, his own emotions making his throat thick. Tears burn his eyes, and he squeezes them shut because he needs to stay strong for her right now. "She’s so proud of you. We all are. You’re the best of us, and we’re all going to be with you every step of the way."

"It’s going to be so hard for my dad," she murmurs, voice muffled against his chest.

"We’ll look after him. He’ll be okay, don’t worry."

"Thank you."

"Toujours, ma chérie (Always, my darling)," he promises, kissing her hair and holding her tighter.

Regulus can’t remove her pain, he can’t bring her mother back, but he can keep Pandora up for as long as she needs. Whatever she needs to get through this, Regulus will not hesitate to give it to her. 

* 

Like most disasters, it started out like a normal day.

Nothing out of the ordinary: Regulus woke up with his alarm at 4:30am, carried out his usual pristine morning routine, and took Pandora a cup of tea in bed just before he left. He arrived at work 15 minutes early with a fresh takeaway black coffee in hand from the 24-hour petrol station, sat with the Dorcas while handover was being given, and then the day of work started after he waved a dopey eyed, sleep deprived Dorcas off. They were understaffed two nurses, but that was nothing new, and surgeon Alderidge had phoned in sick, so a few of the scheduled surgeries were pushed back. While Regulus found it frustrating that he was the unfortunate soul to tell the patients and families about it, it's not the worst thing that could have happened. 

No.

Oh, no.

The worst thing that could have happened, happens 20 minutes before Regulus is supposed to go and grab himself a coffee from the cafe that’s just opened. 

He’s sitting at the reception desk, feeling pretty impressed with himself and his work so far. In the eight hours he’s been at work, he’s discharged four patients, diagnosed three, completed three longwinded neurological assessments, written up 14 patient hourly notes, and he’s managed to single-handedly medicate someone out of a status epilepticus condition, that took over an hour, without their heart stopping under the stress. Hence, why as he’s staring at a patients most recent MRI scan, he decides he deserves a caramel latte from the coffee shop downstairs. 

Then ghe desk phone rings, and he picks it up without pausing in his writing about the scans.

"Neurology, Doctor Black speaking," he answers.

"This is Doctor Delacour from Emergency," a thick, familiar French accent comes through. "There’s been critical incident on London Bridge Junction. Multiple RTC, number of patients is currently unknown. We’ve got emergency services on scene but all crews are being diverted to us for treatment. We’ve got six en-route at the moment, the closest is four minutes away. All transported patients are currently in critical condition. We need all available staff down to the department as soon as possible and we’re requesting immediate action for bed availability on every ward."

Shit.

Shit shit shit!

Regulus has only ever been on shift during one declared critical incident, and it was the worst day of his career.

For the hospital to declare a major incident, it means that the emergency services on scene have categorised it as a multi-casualty scene that is likely to overload the emergency department of the hospital if it’s not prepared. Regulus knows these kinds of scenarios are more hectic at the scene, where triage and hot zones are set up to give patients appropriate treatment before hospital transfer, but the chaos bleeds into the emergency department with the sheer amount of sudden, and often, highly critical patients. 

Doctor Delacour’s words are crisp and precise, but Regulus can read between the lines. 

All available staff down to the department? This means that only skeleton crews stay on the wards. All doctors and nurses par from one of each go down to A&E while the rest stay on the wards. 

Requesting bed availability? Discharge anyone and everyone that can be in speedy fashion because A&E is going to be so overwhelmed that patients are going to need to be moved to wards as soon as their injuries and treatments are assessed. 

"Understood," Regulus nods, already doing a mental scan of the staff on the ward. "Available staff will be down as soon as possible. We currently have five beds free, and I’ll get some more cleared."

"Thank you."

As soon as the phone is down, Regulus is up and grabbing the closest nurse, telling her to gather all the staff for an urgent meeting at the desk. She’s only gone a few minutes , but it gives him enough time to figure out who is staying, who is going to emergency, and what patients are able to be discharged. 

It only takes a few minutes before he has all the nurses rallied around the nurses desk. As soon as they're listening, he begins to explain.

"There has been a critical incident declared on London Bridge Junction. Multiple RTC, number of casualties unknown but emergency have phoned up and we’re proceeding with the hospital critical incident protocol. Me, Alex, and Mads are going to go downstairs and help with patients coming into A&E. The rest of you are going to stay up here. I’ve already paged theatres, they’re going to be prepping for any surgeries coming through," he holds up a stack of patient files he's sorted into a pile, "Here is a list of patients ready to be discharged, their papers are signed and they’re ready to go. I know no one likes basically throwing patients out, but we’re going to need spare beds as soon as possible, but work like magic and get these people out in half an hour max. Okay?" When he gets a round of nods, he adds, "Slughorn is being called, and he will be up here and will help you, and I’ll have my pager on me. As it’s a critical incident, I will only be responding to code blue’s up here, but only page me as a last resort. Trust me when I tell you whatever happening up here is not going to compare to down there, so I can only come back if absolutely necessary." 

Despite the nods he receives, the majority of the faces staring back at him look terrified. While Regulus appreciates their fear of such an incident, he doesn’t have time to reconcile them right now. They're staying on the ward without the head doctor at their immediate disposal, not being sent to the bloody firing squad. 

"Look, just do your jobs up here as you usually would. Take the obs, look after the patients. Your jobs aren’t changing up here, you just have to use some initiative on your own," he tries to comfort as best he can, but today is not the day for holding hands. The emergency department is probably flooded right now and it’s only going to get worse. It’s time these nurses and HCA’s put their big pants on and learned to tread water on their own. "Okay?"

A round of nods again.

Good enough, Regulus decides.

"Great. Right, you two," he motions to Alex and Mads, "with me. The rest of you, continue as normal. Do your best impression of a swan today: calm and pretty on the surface, legs flapping in secret," he says as he stands. "Oh, and if the phone rings, make sure someone answers it."

This is possibly the worst day to be the only doctor on the ward, but as the most specialised in brains and spines in the whole hospital right now, Regulus is needed downstairs. He can’t pretend he isn’t worried about the staff he’s leaving up on the ward, but he’s praying to the God that has never answered him that they’ll manage.

Just as long as nothing goes wrong while he’s gone. 

"You two ever attended a major incident before?" He asks the nurses as they stand in the lift a minute later.  

They both shake their heads dutifully.

"It’s not as scary as it sounds," he tries to assure them, and when they both look at him like he’s grown a second head, he can’t help but chuckle. "Honestly. It’s going to be chaotic, but just make sure there is no one bleeding out unattended on the floor, assist the doctors, and stay out of the paramedics way. Nothing is more humiliating then being knocked down by a rolling stretcher with a half-dead patient on it, and if it does happen to you, I will laugh." 

"Wouldn’t expect any less from you," Alex grins. "Do you know how many patients are already here?"

"Doctor Delacour said they had six en route when she phoned up, but that was almost 10 minutes ago now. So I imagine all six are here and maybe more," Regulus guesses. "When we get down there, stick with me while I find someone to give us a bit more of a handover about what happened so we have a better idea of the types of casualties that might be coming in."

"If this is such an emergency, shouldn’t we be taking the stairs?" Mads asks. "We’d be faster than the lift." 

"This is going to be the hardest shift of your life so far. Trust me, you need to save all the energy you can," Regulus replies. 

"Good point," she laughs nervously.

"And stop looking so scared," Regulus adds. "These patients are going to be scared out of their wits. They’ve been in what sounds like a severe and traumatic incident. They’re going to be hurt, and the department is going to be chaotic. You looking like a rabbit in headlights is not going to bring them any reassurance at all."

Her cheeks flare red instantly. "Sorry." 

Regulus eyes the scale above their heads, slowly counting down the floors. He sees it ping to the emergency level, and he looks back at the girls.

"Ready?" He asks.

"No," Alex shakes her head.

"Good," he nods. Then, the doors slide open. "Let’s go."

The emergency department resembles something of a war zone. It’s loud, it’s chaotic, there are bloody beds and screaming patients, machines beeping and shrilling. There is a flurry of beds moving, stretchers coming in and out, doctors shouting demands and paramedics firing off handovers. 

Regulus leads his two nurses through the mayhem, spotting Doctor Delacour by the large reception desk. She looks ragged already, fine blonde hair falling out of her plaits and scrubs splattered with small dots of blood.

"Doctor Delacour," Regulus greets, and she looks up. 

"Oh, fantastic! You're here," she breathes, seemingly relieved. 

"Do we have an update from the scene about what happened?"

Delacour nods. "A driver ran a red light coming East at the London Bridge Junction. They T-boned straight onto a bus, which went sideways onto the pavement. Other cars on the road got caught in the collision. The latest update from the scene was they’ve got 37 patients so far. Nine are in critical, six of which are here. We’ve got nine currently categorised as P1, another nine as P2, and the other 19 as P3. The numbers keep climbing though, the updates seem to coming every few minutes." 

Regulus nods. They can work with that. Not great, not horrendous.

Nine in P1 means they are anyone who either has a catastrophic haemorrhage, unable to walk, unconscious but breathing, have an abnormal breathing rate or heart rate. People categorised as P2 are anyone who can’t walk, and patients classified as P3 can walk. Regulus appreciates it’s only an initial triage system the paramedics use to classify who immediately needs medical attention in the first five minutes, so the ranking of patients always changes. 

37 patients and counting is not good, but hearing that a double decker bus was rammed onto it’s side, he’s grateful the number is currently so low. He has no doubts, and he’s sure Delacour feels the same, that it won’t take long before the number of patients gets higher and higher once the critical patients are transported to hospital.

He turns to his nurses, who both, naturally, look scared out of their wits.

"One patient at the time, okay?" He says, hopefully to assure them slightly. "Assess who you can, help out the doctors and the patients, and don’t be scared of all the blood."

"We got it," Alex smiles, nodding. 

Regulus nods back, then turns back to Delacour. "Where do you need us?"

"Can you go in resus please," she says to Regulus, and then turns to Alex and Mads, "and you two, we’re still currently trying to clear beds at the back of the department. Can you do everyone’s checks and inform the doctor back there so he can get them discharged?"

The two girls nod. Then, they’re all moving.

Regulus swipes a handful of gloves out of a box on his way, shoving some into his pocket and quickly donning two layers on his hands. The department is hot and overwhelming, but he doesn’t falter in his step as he swings through the doors of resus. 

If he thought the rest of the department looks like a war zone, then the resus room looks like a massacre. Patients on the bed lay with missing limbs, blood dripping off the bed from the saturated sheets. Equipment is being frantically ripped from cupboards, doctors are barking orders and results as they desperately try to keep the people alive on the beds. Regulus ducks out of the way in time to avoid a paramedic coming running in with a stretcher. It’s a young lad, looking stressed out of his wits, and glances at Regulus for guidance of where to go.

"Bed four," Regulus replies, and grabs a clipboard for handover notes as they go. He spots a nurse standing at the foot of another bed, and he taps her on the shoulder, "Do you mind helping us with transferring?"

She nods rapidly, wordlessly following him.

Regulus takes in the patient strapped to the stretcher. He’s unconscious, top of his head clad in bandages. His shirt and trousers have been cut off, blankets covering his dignity. There is a cannula sticking out of his chest, an instant sign he has a tension pneumothorax and the air building up in his chest cavity from the hole in his lung is putting pressure on his heart. His right leg is in the pre-hospital Kendrick, a mess of metal and straps getting traction on his tibia and fibula to keep the broken bones temporarily aligned. There is a tourniquet strapped around the upper flesh of his left thigh, a gaping hole and the shattered end of his broken femur sticking out amongst the mess of blood on his leg. 

The guy looks a fucking state, pale as shit and clammy. Regulus doesn’t need to be told to already know he’s in the scary stages of hemorrhagic shock.

He helps the paramedics slide the guy onto the hospital bed, and turns to the paramedic waiting to give a handover. 

"This is Scott, 42 year old male," the paramedic starts. "He was the driver in his car at the time of the accident. He swerved to avoid the collision between the primary car and the bus and hit a lamppost. Estimated speed was 35 miles per hours. Down and under mechanism of injury. Upper body trauma from the steering wheel, legs crushed in the foot well from the dashboard. He had to be cut out of the car by fire before able to transport. 

"Head to toe injuries; anterior impact injury to skull, laceration at the hairline. No airway concerns, c-spine tenderness but no abnormalities on palpation. Right humorous dislocation, left arm no concerns. Right sided tension pneumothorax, successful chest decompression en route. Bruising and tenderness to abdomen, no pelvic bone concerns. Compaction of both legs, right tib-fib open fracture, Kendrick in place. Tourniquet applied to upper left femur, cat-hem maintained to femural from open-fracture. 

"He is estimated to have lost one and a half litres of blood, showing signs of hemorrhagic shock. Minor superficial wounds from glass to arms and face. GCS three on scene, briefly sustained GCS nine en route to tell us his name. Latest observations were 127 heart rate, irregular and fluctuating, respiratory rate of 24, oxygen saturations 90 on 15 litres of O2, blood pressure 84 over 61."

"Okay," Regulus nods. "Perfect. Pain relief?"

"20 milligrams of morphine, five milligrams of ketamine, one gram of paracetamol, single dose of co-amoxiclav."

"Wonderful," Regulus says as he grabs his stethoscope. He looks at the nurse, "Can we can an updated set of observations please?"

He listens to Scott’s chest as the paramedics gather up their equipment and leave. The right side is silent, proving that the original attempt at chest decompression has stopped working. 

"I need the equipment for needle thoracentisis as soon as you can."

"Of course," she nods. 

"We need to take bloods so we can give him the correct infusion," Regulus continues. "Can you do that too while I assess his abdomen and femur?"

"Of course," she repeats. "Obs are on the screen. I’ll grab a bloods kit and the decompression pack."

As she goes, Regulus spares a glance and grumbles when he sees the man’s numbers are even worse. The tourniquet on his leg is stopping him from bleeding out, but the bruising and the abnormal hardness of the mans abdomen confirms to Regulus that he’s bleeding internally from the impact to the steering wheel. Regulus inspects the the right arm, listing the humorous dislocation as a low priority compared to the mangled mess of the mans legs. He pages for the orthopaedics just before the nurse comes back and while she’s getting blood, which is proving to be difficult to transfuse with his shut down circulatory system, Regulus works on adding another needle to his chest for temporary relief until they can get Scott under the knife for repairs and a chest drain. 

When the orthopaedic doctor arrives, it’s a whirlwind of cracking bones, realigning limbs and dodging the anaesthesiologists who work on sedating Scott fully to help aid his battered system. His blood pressure is in his boots when bloods are attached, and finally, he’s being rolled into surgical theatres with the grim reaper following him. 

Regulus strips his bloody gloves before going to the next. 

The number of casualties has gone up from 37 to 49. The nine P1 critical patients have upped to 13 as four P3 walkers have revealed to have catastrophic internal injuries that adrenaline allowed them to move with on scene. The waiting room is filled up with minor injuries, and every bed in the department is taken up by a still and severely injured individual hanging onto the rope of life by the tips of their nails.

As soon as Regulus’ patient is stable, he moves onto another one. Then another, and another. The emergency doors are constantly open, stretchers rolling in and patients being slide from bed to bed. 

Head injuries. Spine and neck deformities. Internal bleeding. Crushed chests and limbs. Blood and chaos. Tears and pain. Medication and antibiotics. 

It’s relentless. 

Endless. 

He’s dragged over to a head injury patient from the bus, taking the handover from the exhausted looking paramedics who brought them in.

"How’s it looking out there?" Regulus asks.

"Almost at the end. Low category patients have been diverted to other hospitals."

"How many were black-tagged?"

"Five on scene, including the driver who caused it," the paramedic replies, and Regulus nods in empathic grief. Considering the nature of the incident, five black-tagged is a fucking miracle. "How is it here?"

"Take one look and that’ll tell you," Regulus grumbles. It’s been an hour since he came down, and the department is only looking worse with every passing minute. The original nine critical patients have been whisked off to surgery, but their beds have been rapidly filled since. 

The patient brought in needs an MRI scan, though Regulus doesn’t think it’s any worse than a nasty laceration and a concussion. 

Regulus is in the middle of stitching up the weeping gash on the mans forehead when he spots Euphemia approaching. 

"Is it 6:30 already?" Regulus asks hopefully, knowing she’s not meant to be in until he finishes.

"No, it’s only half three, but I came in early," she replies. 

Regulus has been down here for two and a half hours then. Wonderful. 

"You been upstairs?" He asks, dreading the answer if she has or not. He finishes up the stitching with precise movements and takes the rubbish to the bin.

"Yes, they’re all fine," she nods. "You okay?"

Regulus wants to scoff at the question, but he’s distracted by the look of a dreadfully pale patient lying supine on the opposite bed. 

"Absolutely grand. Fancy grabbing a crash cart for me? I’ve got a feeling that guy there is going to—"  he’s cut off by the blaring sounds of the obs machine informing everyone of the lack of heart beat. "Motherfucker!" 

The classic scene of CPR rolls out. They go for 30 minutes, but they don’t get the man back. Regulus rolls his shoulders to rid the ache of chest compressions with the rest of the staff. No time to dwell, because there is still a scary amount of patients to be seen still.

Now the department has a more paced influx of patients coming in, so Delacour designates doctors to go to patients most requiring their speciality. Regulus and Euphemia are instantly assigned all those with head, neck or spine injuries. 

They spend their time taking patients with the main focus being their neurological injuries, looking at scan photos and consulting with one another about beds and admissions. 

A patient with sustained neck and spine injuries comes in via ambulance a little while later. After a quick assessment, Regulus goes down with the patient to X-rays, cringing at the sight of the completely shattered vertebras he sees on the screen. He sends them up to neuro and speaks to Slughorn on the phone, who agrees for surgery. With Euphemia now in the emergency department, Slughorn invites Regulus to join him on the vertebroplasty procedure. 

The surgery takes two hours, and as soon as it’s done, Regulus is running back down too emergency ward after a quick check on the staff in neuro who, thankfully, are all fine and plodding along comfortably as if it’s a normal day. 

The emergency ward hasn’t emptied a bit, but the scene has cleared up and no more ambulances are rolling in.

Regulus and Euphemia continue to help with assessments, working their way through the waiting room for people who have made their own way in. Regulus is grabbed by an orthopaedic to help set some bones, assists the anaesthesiologists when sedating patients, stitches up cuts and gashes with the nurses. 

The adrenaline from the whole ordeal keeps Regulus going. The emergency department begins to quiet down enough that doctors are directed to go back to their wards to continue the care for the patients from the incident that have been moved up. 

Home time comes and goes, but by then, Regulus is in the middle of a delicate craniotomy surgery with Slughorn for a patient who came in hours later from the accident and collapsed on the hospital waiting room floor following a massive traumatic brain bleed. 

When the surgery ends, it's almost 11:30 in the evening, four hours after Regulus was due to end his shift. Slughorn congratulates him on his assistance in the surgery while they’re washing their hands and striping from their surgery scrubs and hairnets. With the adrenaline of having done the most part of a craniotomy and doing it successfully, Regulus is internally screaming at the praise while maintaining a calm but grateful external response. As soon as Slughorn claps him on the back and leaves with the strict instruction to go home, Regulus slumps boneless against the wall. 

17 hours. 

An 17 hour shift, with a chaotic critical incident in-between, and multiple trauma patients and surgeries. Regulus can feel the ache in his body, the strain in his legs and the persistent twinges of pain in his back and shoulders. His head is pounding now he’s allowing himself time to breathe for the first time since midday. His eyes feel dry and gritty, burning whenever he blinks and has to force himself to open them again. His feet are throbbing in his shoes, something that hasn’t happened to him since he was a student and only just adjusting to being on his feet for more than half of the day at a time.

After letting out an exhale that’s so heavy and long he feels like his lungs become limp and deflated balloons from it, he suddenly realises that he hasn’t checked his phone once since before the incident was declared at 12:30.

The stream of notifications almost has him whining.

Barty (16:12) unfortunate day to be on shift, you unlucky prick!!!

Evan (17:01) just heard there is a critical incident declared, would you rat me out if i phoned in sick tonight? i don’t even want to know how fucked the A&E’s are rn

Evan (19:22) can confirm that the children’s A&E is in a much better state than the adults. bad luck you smug bastard

Pandora (12:12) just left the flat. it’s all locked up and tidy for you :) i put some washing on as well so you don’t have to do it when you get home x

Pandora (18:37) i’ve gone round and fed sylvester for you as you’re probably going to be finishing late. i also took the washing out and hung it up for you too. hope you’re okay, remember to let someone know when you’ve finished <3

Regulus quickly replies to the three of them. He tells Barty to fuck off, tells Evan to go fuck himself with his stupid quiet paediatric emergency department, and tells Pandora she’s a literal angel for feeding Sylvester and doing his washing. 

James (15:37) i saw the news, hope everything is okay at the hospital xx

James (15:51) just got off the phone with mum, she said she’s going in early to help because you’re likely to be down in A&E right now. hope you’re alright, but i know you’re going to be smashing whatever you’re doing!! xx

James (18:02) text me when you finish, i just want to know you’re okay. i know critical incidents are utter shit :( thinking of you <3

James (20:48) hope it’s calming down for you so you can finish soon. worried about you! pads and moons keep taking my phone so i won’t bombard you with texts, but they don’t understand how hard critical incidents are and they think i’m being dramatic wanting to make sure you’re okay

James (21:09) okay i’ll stop texting now, but let me know when you’re finishing <3

Regulus smiles. He’s not surprised by the texts in the slightest, and he wishes he’d had the chance to grab his phone hours before to let James know that he was okay, to quench his panic for Regulus. 

He forgets sometimes that James grew up with a mother working in hospitals and is a paramedic himself. Of course James knows all about critical incidents, and it makes Regulus’ stomach twinge to think of James ever being one of the poor sods who has to be first on scene picking between the dead and the alive. 

Pushing off the wall outside the theatre room, Regulus begins a slow, slightly stumbling stroll while he texts back.

Regulus (23:26) just finished with the last surgery, heading home in 5

The reply is so instantaneous that he doesn’t even have time to put his phone back in his pocket before it buzzes with the reply.

James (23:26) thank fuck!! 

James (23:26) stay there I’m coming to pick you up

Regulus begins typing to deny James’ offer, not wanting the older man to have to turn out at this time to pick Regulus up who, despite being tired to the bone and getting worse, has a car here and is perfectly capable of getting home by himself.

He’s halfway through a text when another pings through. 

James (23:27) no arguments!!! you’ve done a fucking 18 hour shift and i saw everything from the crash on tv, there is no way i’m letting you drive home after today. stay there or i’m never bringing you a latte to work again

Regulus can’t stop himself from scoffing at James using his coffee generosity as a threat, but despite how amusing it is, it’s also incredibly sweet. Regulus feels his stomach swoop from James’ seemingly endless kindness.

Regulus (23:29) okay, thank you xx

James (23:30) always, sweetheart <3 i’m leaving now, i’ll text when i’m parked xx

Trust James to make Regulus feel a hundred times better despite every bone and muscle in his body protesting about still having to function. 

Regulus pockets his phone, making his way down to the neuro mess room to get changed. The ward is calm and sated as he walks through it, the nightshift crew bustling about before the patients begin to turn into sleep. All the staff Regulus started his day with have gone, and he’s suddenly grateful that Euphemia came in early, which means he doesn’t now have to spend 20 minutes getting her up to speed about the ward - which actually would have been challenging considering he hasn’t worked a minute in it since midday. 

Shuffling his way inside the mess room, Regulus stops short when he spots Euphemia standing by the kettle, focus instantly falling on him the moment he walks inside.

"Oh, love," she winces, voice worried and soft. "Are you okay?"

"It’s been a very long day," Regulus mumbles, feeling so wrecked that even the idea of opening his mouth properly to pronounce words is too exhausting. 

Euphemia’s sympathy multiplies ten-fold at his reply. She watches him slowly make his way into the room, dropping down heavily on the bench by the lockers.

"Have you had a break today?"

Regulus shakes his head, which is hanging heavy, chin almost touching his chest. "No. I was planning on going on one just before they declared a critical incident. There hasn’t been time for a break since."

"You have worked 18 hours without a break?" She cries suddenly. He dares a glance up, and grimaces when he sees her shocked and annoyed face staring back at him. "Regulus! That is unacceptable."

"I don’t think Delacour would have appreciated me telling her I was going for a coffee break when they had 49 patients sitting in the ER."

"Still," Euphemia grumbles, shaking her head. "It’s unacceptable. Really, Regulus. It’s dangerous."

"It’s fine," Regulus argues tiredly. "I survived. Plus, I could have gone for a break in between surgeries with Slughorn, but I didn’t want him to start any operations without me."

"He wouldn’t have," she denies firmly. "He needed you. I saw him before he left, he was very impressed."

"I only assisted."

"He said you practically did the whole craniotomy on your own," she argues, lips curling up with clear pride. "Slughorn said he didn’t have to do anything but observe."

Regulus flashes her a tired smile. He hasn’t got the motivation for it tonight anymore, but tomorrow he’ll appreciate the work he did with Slughorn. Right now, all Regulus can think about is going home. 

Suddenly, Euphemia is in front of him, having crossed the room without him noticing. She’s crouched down on the floor, but Regulus is so hunched over that she barely has to look up at him. She brushes the hair off his forehead soothingly, then cups his cheeks.

"You did incredibly well today," she says. 

It’s another testament to how tired and strung out Regulus feels that he doesn’t even bother being arrogant and arguing that he’s great every day. Instead, he blinks slowly and mumbles, "Thank you."

"How are you getting home?"

A tug brings the corner of his mouth up. "Is that your sly way of beginning the lecture about driving after long shifts?"

She rolls her eyes fondly. "You’re exhausted, darling. I don’t like to think about you having to drive after an 17 hour shift like today."

"I know," he breathes. "James is coming."

Euphemia looks surprised. "You asked him?"

"He offered. Actually, no, he specifically told me to stay here until he picks me up with the threat of never bringing me coffee again."

"That threat worked?"

"I don’t have the energy to argue about it."

"Probably best," she laughs. "Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?"

"Yes please," Regulus replies gratefully.

She stands, moving back to the kettle while Regulus heaves himself up to get changed out of his scrubs. His muscles burn in his shoulders and biceps as he pulls his scrub top off for the fourth time this shift, the first three stained with blood and grime. This time at least, he's tossing it in the wash basket and grabbing his sweater out of his locker. His legs shake when he changes his trousers, momentarily hating himself for coming in hours ago in jeans instead of joggers because right now, he wants nothing more than something comfy on his unsteady legs.

Effie has finished making the tea in time for him to close his locker and drop his bag onto the bench. 

"Take a seat, love," she commands softly, and when Regulus instantly slides down the wall and sinks onto the cold, hard floor, she snorts disapprovingly. "I didn’t mean on the floor."

"The chairs are too uncomfortable," Regulus replies, pulling his knees to his chest and inclining his head back to rest heavily against the wall. 

"And the hard floor isn’t?"

"No," Regulus argues, tone slightly petulant. He closes his eyes and slumps even further. "I can curl up on the floor."

He hears Euphemia chuckle softly. "You’re really quite precious sometimes, Doctor Black."

"Keep it to yourself," Regulus grumbles. 

"Worried about your street cred being ruined?"

"Always," he replies, opening his eyes to find her holding a steaming mug out to him. He takes it gratefully, exhaling a quiet, "Thank you." 

She flashes him a soft, motherly look. Then, taking Regulus by utter surprise, she sinks to the floor to sit beside him. 

"What?" She asks at his bewildered look. "You going to say something about me being too old to sit on the floor?"

"I don’t need to," Regulus smirks. "The groan when you sat down speaks volumes."

"Cheeky," she rolls her eyes. "It’s been a long time since I’ve sat on a mess room floor after a shift."

"Bringing back good memories?"

"Of course," she smiles. "It’s a bit easier when your bones are 20 years younger, though. I may need help getting up."

"You’re going to have to page for someone else. I’m pretty sure I won’t be standing anymore today," Regulus mutters as he sips his tea. "I’m going to have to crawl to James’ car."

"As if you'd allow yourself to sink to such an action," she teases. "You sitting on the floor is already below the bar for someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Prim," she answers simply. "Proper." 

"Stuck up?"

"Sophisticated."

Regulus hums. "A posh twat?"

"Just posh," she corrects. "You're not a twat, love. A bit prickly, perhaps. But not a twat."

"Thanks," he laughs, drinking some more tea that instantly soothes his dry throat. Jesus, he can't remember the last time he drank anything this shift. He didn't realise how thirsty he was until the tea was in his hand. "You up here from now on?"

"Yeah," she replies. "It's managed down in emergency, so I've been released back up here. Much calmer, so I'm happy."

"That's good."

"It is. They did such a good job of clearing the beds up here all day I've got hardly any patients to manage tonight."

"How lucky." 

"Jealous?"

"Absolutely not," he scoffs. "I'm going home. I couldn't muster up the energy to be envious right now even if I tried. I just want my bed."

"Bless you," she coos. An arm goes round his shoulders and he's gently tugged sideways to lean on Euphemia. "James won't be long, sweetheart." 

Regulus is too busy melting into a puddle of putty at the soothing feeling of Euphemia's hand gently running through his hair.  

He's not sure much time passes as they sit in silence. The last thing he’s aware of is someone taking the half-drank mug of tea out of his hands, and then everything is drifting away.

JAMES

He's in the tattoo shop with Sirius when it happens. 

He'd had a good morning. He woke up, went for a run, had a shower and sat by the window with a cup of tea all before the sun came up. It's the end of March, but the sun began to shine like it's the middle of summer. The sight of the bright light seeping through their windows and lighting up the whole flat brought a skip into James' step. 

He spent the first half of the day at the Pettigrew cafe, helping Peter make batches after batches of muffins and pastries to help his mother out after she had to open with a half empty store because she had to run the kids to school. With his arms caked to his elbows in flour and mixture for hours, James enjoyed the activity of baking with Peter. Of course, everything Peter made was far more neat than James', but Mrs Pettigrew didn't mind and thanked him with a bag of blueberry muffins and an extra large latte on his way out at lunchtime. 

From the bakery, he went straight to Sirius' tattoo parlour, the nice weather making him opposed to sitting inside all day. Sirius was busy with a client when he arrived, but he ended up happily chatting to the new receptionist and finishing off the muffins while he waited for Sirius to show his face. 

James sat outside with Sirius while he had a cigarette between his clients, the pair of them discussing and laughing at the escapades the day before where, during their common tennis practice, Peter and Sirius had gotten so angry with each other over Peter's inadequacy at tennis that the Scottish man had launched his racket at the pitch so hard it had broken. 

Still content, James had then watched Sirius create a small piece on a young man's arm before being joined by Remus, who'd come to bring Sirius some late lunch.

It was then that it happened. The small TV in the corner was playing re-runs of Gavin and Stacey on the BBC channel before a afternoon news update. It had just come in, a fresh news story taking the crown for the PM catch up and updates:

A multiple car and bus pile up on the London Bridge Junction. A rogue driver went through a red light, barrelling the front of his car into the side of a bus like a bowling ball aiming for a strike. The bus toppled over easily, crashing horrifically onto the pavement where loads of pedestrians were walking. Cars have swerved and crashed, hitting each other and causing a pileup in the road. 

James' stomach drops at the sight of the bird-view video they provide of the scene. Ambulances, fire engines and police are already there, and James know exactly what's happening. 

It's a critical incident if he's ever seen one. Its practically textbook: multiple casualties, not enough resources, trapped people. James has only ever been to one critical incident while he was a paramedic up in Scotland, and no amount of practice and theory in class could have prepared him for it. It was chaos, harrowing, and he wasn't even the poor sod who was assigned to go around and tag the dead and the living. It had stuck with James for weeks, the exhaustion not even enough to grant him a good night sleep. The screams and cries stayed in his head, the sight of parents and children crying a permanent fixture in his mind. 

One look at the crash on the screen and James knows: it's a critical incident and he knows that the hospital is going to take the brunt of the patients. 

He also knows Regulus is on shift today. 

James doesn't quite know the ins and outs of hospital regulations for critical incidents, but he does know that Regulus has been diverted down to the emergency department to help out at times. And judging by the number of people looking injured on screen, the emergency department is going to need all the help they can get. 

The news reporter says the accident happened 14:10, and it's 15:30 now, which means that it's been over an hour since the crash and the scene doesn't look any less manic than before. 

Without hesitation, James drops a text to Regulus.

James (15:37) i saw the news, hope everything is okay at the hospital xx

He knows he's not going to get an answer. If Regulus has been dragged down to A&E, there is no way he's going to have time to step aside and reply to a text. 

"Fucking hell," Remus murmurs, breaking James out of his head. He glances up to see his best friend staring at the TV, shaking his head. "That looks horrendous."

"They're saying there's over 40 casualties," Sirius adds, whistling. "All from one car going awol?"

"Poor sods," Remus pities. Then, he flashes a look to Sirius, "And this is why I hate you having a bike."

"Why?" Sirius cries. 

"You have no protection on a bike."

Sirius rolls his eyes, but James can't focus on it. 

40 casualties. 

Bus passengers, drivers, pedestrian. 40 of time, injured and hurt, maybe dead. It could be more than 40 if they include those declared dead at scene. 

Suddenly sick with worry and panic for the boy he knows doesn't know how to look after himself while he's on shift, James texts his mum to see if she's awake.

Her reply is instantaneous, and her call comes a few minutes later. 

James practically runs out of the tattoo parlour to answer the call. 

"Hi, love—"

"Mum!" James interrupts. "Mum, are you on shift right now?"

"Technically no," she replies slowly. "I'm not due in till tonight, but I've just pulled into the car park. They need all the help they can get, so I'm going to go and give them a hand."

"It looks bad," James winces. "I just saw the news. It— do you think the hospital is struggling?"

"It's probably overwhelmed, but we have our regulations and guidelines for what to do in these situations," his mother placates kindly, patiently. "What's going on, sweetheart? You sound really shaken up. Is it... darling, is it bringing back the times you were on the road up in Scotland?"

"No. No I'm fine, mum," James assures quickly. "I'm just... I'm just worried."

His mother is silent on the other end of the phone for moment. Then, she gently prods, "About?"

Regulus. 

If he's okay. 

What he's doing. 

If he's drinking enough water. 

If he's had a break. 

If he's okay. 

Regulus.

Regulus. 

Regulus. 

"Darling," his mothers voice appears in his ear, grounding him like an anchor. "Is this about Regulus?"

James begins to stammer a denial, but all that comes out is stuttering and garbled letters. 

"Oh, James!" she laughs. "You're so precious. You have nothing to worry about. Regulus is one of the best doctors that hospital has got, and I'm not just saying that because he's your boyfriend or my old student."

"I know, but he— he—"

"He'll be down in emergency. He's probably been there since they declared the critical incident. They call for everyone apart from the skeleton crew of each department down to A&E for all spare hands to deal with the casualties. He's going to to feel wrecked later, but I promise you, Regulus is fine. You know what it's like, the adrenaline is going to keep him going and then he'll crash later. But for now, you don't need to worry about him. Have faith in him, darling. He's good at his job."

"I know," James squeezes out, feeling choked. 

And James does know. He knows, he's seen, and he feels like the biggest fan and advocate for Regulus Black. He was born to be a doctor, to take care of people, to be filled to the brim with medical knowledge and skill to be able to solve illnesses and provide people with life changing and life saving assessments and surgeries. James used to think there was no one in the world as good as his mum, but having heard about Regulus at work, seen him buzzing around the ward, James can't help but out Regulus high on that podium with the woman who raised him. 

But, for all the brilliance and professionalism that Regulus is, he's also appalling at taking care of himself, in and out of hospital. James has seen his bare cupboards in his flat, stripped of edible food and worthy condiments. He's seen the bags under Regulus' eyes, the weight on his shoulders from work and friends. He's held Regulus in his arms, so boneless from exhaustion yet so brittle and bony against him, his wrists and ankles so sharp and bird-like that James has been scared the younger man would snap in his hands. James has seen the hours Regulus works, inhumane and criminal with not enough time to recuperate between them. He's gone in before, to pick Regulus up after a shift he's over ran and found the younger man hasn't had a break, hasn't sat down or consumed anything but coffee in over 14 hours. 

So, no. James isn't worried about Regulus' flawless ability to handle a critical incident, or provide anyone and everyone who comes through the accident and emergency doors with the upmost care. What James is worried about, is the state Regulus will push himself to by the end of it. For someone who claims to be made of ice and stone, Regulus actually has a heart the size of the Atlantic. Whether he's at work to at home, Regulus puts his patients and his friends before himself, always. Without fail, Regulus will make sure everyone around him has what they need before he thinks about himself. 

"James, love, I need to go," his mother says. 

"Okay," he replies, pleased it comes out somewhat stable. "Look after yourself, mum."

"Of course," she murmurs softly. "And, James?"

"Yeah?"

"I’ll make sure Regulus looks after himself too," she says, and James’ chest just bursts.

"Good luck with that."

She laughs, "Thanks. I think I’m going to need it."

"I love you."

"I love you too, my sweet boy."

When she hangs up, James texts Regulus again with shaky fingers.

James (15:51) just got off the phone with mum, she said she’s going in early to help because you’re likely to be down in A&E right now. hope you’re alright, but i know you’re going to be smashing whatever you’re doing!! xx

The reply never comes. James waits for hours, hands wringing together, palms sweaty and knees jumping. His whole body is practically vibrating, constantly searching for new news articles about the crash and any hospital updates. 

At one point, Sirius takes his phone, declaring him cut off so he’d calm down. James almost rips his head off for it, fully prepared to slam the other boy into the ground and pummel him until he gets his phone back. It’s Remus who sedates it before James goes off like a feral animal.

"Give him the phone, Pads," he says, looking unimpressed.

"Why?" Sirius cries, holding it up as if his shorter height will achieve anything from it. "He’s working himself up, Moons! Look at him! If he stresses anymore, then he’s going to have a fucking aneurysm!"

"Well, if he does, then at least he’ll be on Regulus’ ward," Remus sighs, rolling his eyes when Sirius flashes him a heated glare. "Pads, he’s worried about Reg and his mum. He’s allowed to be, he knows more than any of us what these things are like. Did you forget he’s one of those poor sods who are currently scraping dead bodies off the pavement?"

James winces at the slightly brutal wording, but he meets Sirius’ eyes afterwards. Remus gets it; James knows what’s going on enough to worry about the details he doesn’t know. 

Sirius sighs, arm holding the phone up dropping to his side. "I’m just worried about you," he says. "You’re wigging out, Prongs. You know they’re not going to reply. It’s been hours! You’ve practically paced a hole in my floor from walking back and forth!"

"I just want to know if they’re okay," James says, running a hand through his hair for the hundredth time in an hour. It’s almost half five, which means it’s been hours since the crash and since he spoke to his mother. It also means Regulus is supposed to finish in an hour, but James isn’t holding onto hope of that. The more time that seems to pass, the more James wants to hear from him. Just a small text, a single word. Anything. 

James just wants to know that he’s alright.

"Give him back his phone, Pads," Remus repeats. "If it was me you were trying to get ahold of, we all know you’d be much more of a flapping pain the ass than he is."

"Thank you," James adds, smugly. Then, he frowns. Is he really being than much of a pain in the ass? "I think?"

Sirius rolls his eyes. Clearly, he knows as much as they do, that he’d be much worse than James if the shoe was on the other foot.

"Fine," he grumbles, tossing the phone back. "But we’re getting milkshakes on the way home. You’re paying."

"What?" James cries, looking up from his phone. "Why am I paying?"

"Because you are the one who’s given me your stress headache. You owe me."

James rolls his eyes, flipping him off.

"It might make you feel a bit better, Prongs," Remus says, suddenly beside him and giving his shoulder a squeeze as Sirius packs up his stuff. "You haven’t eaten since before lunch. Some sugar would do you good."

They do get milkshakes. Despite James’ indifference, Remus is right: it does make him feel slightly better. They also grab a takeaway of fish and chips, because Remus’ opinion is everything is easier on an empty stomach.

Half past six comes and goes.

Then so does seven.

And eight.

And nine.

Sirius and Remus do a good job at attempting to distract him for the majority of the evening. They put on the Spiderman movies, which any other time, James would be over the moon about. The fish and chips send Sirius into a mini food coma, so he ends up passing out half way through the first movie half slumped into Remus’ lap. They disappear at some point to shower, and they take enough time for James to know they’re doing more than just washing in there. He FaceTimes Peter to distract himself, and gets to spend an hour getting the piss ripped out of him by Peter’s rogue younger brother who seems to take great pleasure in borderline bullying James until Peter is red in the face from laughing. Ego bruised and questioning a small lads morals, James finds himself floating around the flat by ten in the evening. 

He gets a text from his mum saying it’s calmed down, and that she’s back up on the neurology ward now. James doesn’t even need to ask for an update before she lets him know that Regulus is just finishing up in surgery with the chief surgeon. James will never get bored of the buzz he gets when he hears about Regulus kicking metaphorical ass at work and getting into the surgical rooms - even if it is four hours after he was meant to finish his shift.

Keeping himself busy to avoid texting Regulus and bugging him even more, James reorganises and tidies their pots and pans, their tubberwere cupboard, and the tin and pasta cupboard. His patience wears off, because a text comes through. When his phone buzzes on the sofa, James leaps two steps from the kitchen and leaps over the back of the seat to snatch his phone. 

Regulus (23:26) just finished with the last surgery, heading home in 5

James slumps against the cushions in relief.

He’s okay. 

Regulus is okay. 

Of course he is, James chides himself. He’s your Reggie.

James (23:26) thank fuck!! 

James (23:26) stay there I’m coming to pick you up

As soon as James sends it, he knows Regulus is going to decline. James won’t allow it. Not after today, not after an 18 hour shift. James needs to see him. He needs to see Regulus with his own eyes. James doesn’t know who he’s doing it for more: him or Regulus. 

Either way, James is picking him up.

James (23:27) no arguments!!! you’ve done a fucking 18 hour shift and i saw everything from the crash on tv, there is no way i’m letting you drive home after today. stay there or i’m never bringing you a latte to work again

James is pretty sure the threat of never providing coffee at work again will work. Regulus may not admit it often, but he bloody loves the lattes James brings him. Even now, after months of doing it, James knows it makes Regulus’ shifts. If James is ever busy or forgets, Regulus will always pout about not receiving his latte at work. It’s quite adorable really, hence why James knows the threat will get Regulus to fold.

Regulus (23:29) okay, thank you xx

James smiles.

Simply adorable!

James (23:30) always, sweetheart <3 i’m leaving now, i’ll text when i’m parked xx

James has his keys in his hand, jacket on, and shouting at the boys he’s off before he can blink. 

He gets to the hospital in record time. He pulls up in the waiting bay, fishing out his phone to text Regulus that he’s there when he see’s a text from his mum.

Mum (23:52) come up to the neuro mess room when you get here x

James’ stomach flips, threatening to provide a reappearance of his fish and chips.

After he moves the car into the car park, he practically runs up to the neurology ward.

The ward is locked without a keycard, so he has to wait for one of the nurses to answer the call bell and let him in. Thankfully, it's one that recognises him, and she lets him in without a fuss. James manages to control himself to not run like a mad man into the mess room, but he doesn't walk with speed and purpose. 

Bursting through the door, James stops short at what he sees.

There on the floor, both leaning against the wall, is Regulus and his mother. His mothers eyes meet his as he comes in, but James' heart stutters to a stop when he see's Regulus. 

Knees drawn up and arms tucked into his chest, Regulus' head rests on his mothers shoulder, fully asleep and oblivious to James' sudden appearance. 

"Hiya, love," his mother smiles, soft and warm, voice low. "Sorry for making you come up here, but I didn’t want to wake him and make him walk down alone. He’s absolutely shot tonight."

"It’s okay," James breathes. He drinks in the sight of Regulus sleeping, breaths soft and slow. "It’s okay, mum. Is he… is he okay?"

"Of course," she nods. "He’s just tired. He worked hard today."

"I’m sure he did," James replies, crossing the floor and sinking down in front of them. He reaches out, tentatively running his fingers through Regulus’ messy curls. The younger boy doesn’t even twitch, making James smile. He looks at his mum, noticing the bags already under her eyes and the hair that is barely being held in her bun anymore. "Are you alright, mum?"

"Yeah, love," she nods. "It’s just going to be a long shift."

"Will you leave early? As you came in early?"

She shakes her head slightly, mindful to not jostle Regulus too much. "No. I’ll still leave at seven tomorrow when Dorcas comes in."

James can’t help but frown.

"I’ll be fine, sweetheart," she smiles. "This isn’t the first long shift I’ve done."

"Yeah, but…"

"If you’re about to call me old, James Fleamont Potter, I will personally hand Regulus your baby photo albums," his mother warns, expression serious. "Do you want him to see the outfit you wore to your cousins fifth birthday party?" 

"Absolutely not," James blanches in horror. 

"Good. Then pipe down about my age and get your boy home. He needs a warm meal, a shower, and then his bed," she says, and then, she adds, "and when I say 'bed', I mean to sleep, James."

James sputters, cheeks suddenly burning with flush. 

"Mum!" He cries. "I— what? We— we weren’t—"

He cuts himself off from his stammering at her laughter. 

"Never mention anything like that again," he groans. "I mean it, mum. I’m an adult. I’m too old for that."

"Says the boy who turned into a blushing, blubbering idiot the moment I suggested anything of the sort."

"Shut up," James grumbles. 

He looks back at Regulus, who thankfully hasn’t roused in the middle of that pleasant conversation. Head still resting on his mothers shoulder, James aches to wake him. He looks so exhausted, and while his head looks comfortable pillowed on his mother, James knows the rest on him won’t be.

His mother is right: Regulus needs to go home, eat, shower and sleep in a bed.

"Regulus," he says softly. James runs his hand through Regulus’ hair again, then giving his shoulder a gentle shake. "Reg, baby. Time to wake up."

It takes a couple more shakes, but eventually, Regulus begins to wake up. It starts small; a twitch of his eyelashes, the furrow between his eyebrows. Then, his entire face scrunches almost childishly, taking and releasing a long and heavy breath. His eyes open slowly, like his eyelids are too heavy.

James waits patiently for Regulus to get his bearings. His eyes are unfocused, blinking slowly. Then, he seems to snap out of it, eyes meeting James’. A look of complete confusion and puzzlement comes over him. 

He frowns, his head lifting off Effie’s shoulder as he rasps out, "Wha—?"

"Morning, sleepy head," James smiles, chuckling. 

"Did I…" Regulus croaks, swallowing audibly and clearing his throat. He looks around, dazed eyes tracking the room. He looks at James again, then Effie beside him. "Did I fall asleep?"

His mother nods. "For a little bit."

"Sorry," Regulus groans, dropping his head in his hands.

"It’s alright, sweetheart," Effie chuckles.

James feels whole and warm as he scratches the back of Regulus’ head, at the nape of his neck where the hairs are short and soft. "You ready to go home, love?"

Regulus nods. After a moment, he lifts his head and looks bleary-eyed again. James almost coos. 

"Come on," James prods, pretty sure if he leaves Regulus sitting for much longer than he's going to fall asleep again. "Up we get. It's not good for you or mum to be sitting on the floor like this for too long."

Regulus grunts in reply, but begins to unfold his legs. James helps his mum up first, and she presses a kiss into his cheek before going to the sink to ditch the mugs that were by her feet. James quickly helps Regulus, who's clumsily clambering to his feet, and wraps an arm around the younger man's waist to hold him close. 

When he feels Regulus practically melt against him, James can't resist pressing a kiss into his hair. 

"Let's get you home," he murmurs. When he feels Regulus nod, he looks at his mum, "Thanks for texting."

"No worries," she smiles as she finishes drying her hand on the dish towel. 

She steps up to them, running her hand over Regulus' hair to get his attention. When the smaller man looks to her, her eyes soften and she cups his cheek. 

"Get some rest, sweetheart," she says. "You deserve it after today."

"Thank you for coming in early," Regulus replies.

His mother laughs. "Compared to the rest of you, I barely made a difference. You had it all handled on your own."

"We didn't," Regulus scoffs. "Still, it helped that you came in early." 

"You're both troopers," James adds, "but I can feel you shaking where you're standing, baby, so let's get you home."

"Yes," his mother smiles, "Go, both of you."

"Love you, mum," James says, kissing her cheek. 

"Love you too," she replies. 

James has to half carry Regulus down to the car. The younger boy is stumbling and slumped into him, and if James knows if anyone saw them right now, they'd think that Regulus was drunk by the way he was acting. 

Regulus passes out as soon as he's sat in the car. He manages to shakily strap himself in, but by the time James is getting in the drivers side, the smaller boy is slumped against the passenger door with his eyes closed. James can't help but feel his chest clench for the hundredth time this evening. 

Starting the car, James drives back through the streets of London as gently as he can as to not disturb the sleeping passenger beside him. He takes turns slowly, breaks softly, all to keep the slumbering man beside him safe and comfortable. Regulus doesn't stir a single time, clonked out cold against the door. 

James drives straight to Regulus'. It doesn't cross his mind once if he should take him to his own flat. Regulus needs his own bed, his own shower, and most importantly, he needs peace and quiet. James knows there is no chance of getting that in the flat with Sirius and Remus there. 

Pulling up outside, James kills the engine and climbs out. Regulus is still asleep against the door, so James opens it slowly, reaching inside with one arm and bracing the younger boy so he doesn't fall out. 

Regulus' eyes flutter and he grunts softly when James unbuckles his seatbelt. 

"...mes?" He mumbles, head flopping against James' shoulder. 

"We're home, sweetheart," James replies, kissing his hair. He gently but quickly winds an arm around his shoulders and another under his legs. "Go back to sleep. I'll get you upstairs."

"Wh—!"

Regulus cuts himself suddenly when James lifts him out of the car, his body jolting in surprise. James laughs softly at Regulus' momentary shock, but keeps him settled in his arms securely and nudging the car door closed with his hip. 

"James, you don't need to carry me," Regulus argues, but it falls flat when he wraps his arms around James' neck as he says the words that come out mumbled and slurred. 

"You deserve to be carried after a day like today," James replies, already striding up the converted house. "You're exhausted, Reg. Let me get you upstairs."

"Do not tell anyone about this," Regulus grumbles, face tucked into James' neck. 

"Of course, my love."

Carrying Regulus upstairs isn't half as hard as it should be. Regulus is a fully grown man, despite how much he's teased for his height, yet he's as light as air and seems to have gone limp enough that his long limbs hang easily without hitting any walls or doors. 

When James gets to Regulus' door, he doesn't have chance to try and figure out how he's going to unlock the door while holding Regulus. Instead, the younger boy shimmy's a fraction and a pair of keys jingle in his hand. 

"Can you reach the lock?" James asks. 

Regulus raises an eyebrow in momentary question, but doesn't say anything as he reaches over and unlocks the door still in James' arms. 

"I'm getting the proper princess treatment tonight," Regulus says as he pushes the door open. 

James grins, "You haven't had half of it yet, baby cakes."

"Never call me that again."

"Boring," James scoffs as he nudges the door shut behind them and leans towards the wall so Regulus can flick the lights on. "What do you want to do first? Shower or eat?"

"Shower," Regulus replies instantly. 

"Okay, baby."

James doesn't put Regulus down, instead walking them into the bathroom. He sits Regulus down on the toilet seat, turning quickly to turn the shower on and get it to the right temperature while Regulus undresses. 

When he turns back around, he almost sighs with sympathy when he sees Regulus has only got his jumper off. He's sitting hunched, face in his hands and elbows on his knees. 

James crouches in front of him slowly. "Reg?"

Regulus hums as he lifts his head. He looks so damn tired and worn that James can't help but wince. His eyes are bloodshot and bruised, lids drooping. They look unfocused for a moment. 

"Do you want help?" James asks. 

"I haven't got the energy for anything fun tonight," Regulus breathes heavily, blinking slowly. "I'm sorry."

James' eyes widen in surprise and horror. 

"No, no, no. I didn't mean it like that!" He hurries to correct, shaking his head. "I meant do you think you can stand and wash your hair or do you want help?"

Regulus sighs, rubbing his eyes roughly. He's trembling slightly, and if James wasn't sure that a shower would make him feel better, he'd be adamant to convince him to just get into bed instead. 

"Let me help, Reg," James says softly, squeezing his knee reassuringly, "You look exhausted. I'll do it, you just relax, okay?"

"Okay," Regulus nods wearily. "Just to be clear, though, I could do it on my own though."

"I know," James smiles, finding Regulus' pout absolutely adorable. "I want to help. Princess treatment, remember?"

Regulus grumbles and rolls his eyes, but doesn't argue about it. 

James takes it as a solid win. 

Dashing from the bathroom, he goes into Regulus' room to grab them some clean clothes. He grabs some navy sweats and the his own hoodie that he knows Regulus sleeps in, and a set of his own pyjamas that he's left here. On his way back to the bathroom, he grabs another towel for himself too. 

Regulus is exactly where he left him, looking slumped and small. 

"Come on," James says softly. "Sooner we do this, the sooner you can sleep."

Before the younger man can find the energy to deny it too, James stands up and begins helping him strip his clothes. He strips his own as he goes, deciding it'll be easier to grab a spare towel than trek his wet clothes through Regulus' flat. 

When James is down to his boxers, he helps Regulus stand before whipping both his pants and his trousers down in one. He guides Regulus into the shower, kicks his own pants off before climbing in after him. 

Truthfully, James was slightly worried that with all the good will in the world to look after Regulus, despite his mind being aware that this is meant to be a tender and kind gesture, his dick would not. The only time the two of them have shared a shower has always resulted in at least one of them pleasuring the other. James knows now is not the time, but he wasn't sure the rest of him would. After all, there is never an occasion, never a sight, never a state that Regulus can look that James will ever not find attractive. 

Hence, Regulus in the shower?

Absolutely delicious. 

Yet, James is very impressed and grateful when his dick decides to behave. 

James makes sure to take his time too. He knows Regulus is exhausted, but the more the warm water pelts down on him and James massages the shampoo into his hair, the more he can see the younger man relaxing. 

"This is nice," Regulus says, eyes closed and body swaying. 

James smiles, "Yeah?"

"Mhm," he hums. 

"Good," he replies. "Glad to make you feel better."

Regulus is practically purring, hair white with shampoo bubbles and foam, wet hair curling around James' fingers as he cleans it. James can't help but smile knowing that something so simple, so domestic and tender, is making his boyfriend feel good. 

"Head back, love," James murmurs, "Let me wash it out. Then I'll condition it. We're only doing a three step shower today. Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. The rest can wait until you have the energy to hold your own arms up."

"M'kay," Regulus mumbles in reply, moving his head up so the shampoo and water doesn't run into his eyes. 

James works quickly at washing it out. He does the conditioner just as quick, following the same suit. 

He grabs the loofah and squirts a small amount of body wash on it - only the size of a two pence coin, because this shit is fancy and James still remembers the horror and berate he received from Regulus when he used a handful the first time. 

He doesn't take his time covering Regulus is bubbles, but he can't help but appreciate the body in front of him as he does so. 

Regulus is just so damn perfect. 

He's all sharp lines and long limbs. His shoulders are narrow, wrists and ankles delicate, making him seem so angelic and gentle. His torso is long and pale, nipples small and pink, his waist tiny and so fucking sexy when it leads down to the peachy buttcheeks that James thinks about probably far too often. 

James is so in love with every inch of him. 

He's beautiful, and James feels so lucky every time when he thinks about how he managed to get the attention and affection from someone like Regulus Black. 

Mind wandering into dangerous territory, James shakes himself clear of his undeniable affections for the younger man and washes off the bubbles. 

Regulus is swaying by the time he's clean, small trembles wracking his limbs. His eyes are closed, both from fatigue and from the rivulets of water running down his face from his hair.

"All done," James murmurs, cutting off the shower behind him. "Come on, let's get out and get dry before you get cold."

Helping Regulus stagger out, James grabs the fluffy towel from the rack and instantly wraps it around the smaller boy. He grabs another, laying it over Regulus' head and wrapping it around his shoulders to stop his hair from dripping everywhere. He quickly but gently towel dries Regulus' limbs, and when he's not dripping on the floor anymore, James grabs the last towel and rapidly dries himself too. 

Regulus continues to sluggishly dry himself as James gets himself dressed, and when he's done, he uses the towel on Regulus' head to dry his curls. He helps Regulus into the sweats and hoodie, heart soaring at how much he bloody loves seeing Reg in his clothes. 

"Do you think you can manage something to eat?" James asks. When Regulus opens one eye and flashes him an unimpressed look, James adds, "Only something small, like toast. You need to eat something, love."

Regulus exhales heavily.

"Toast," he grunts. Then, he squints his eyes open and wuietly adds, "With jam?"

"Of course," James smiles. He dips his head to press a kiss to Reg's forehead, pleased that the smell of sterile hospital is gone. Instead, his boyfriend now smells like a walking fruit bowl from the shower gel and hair wash. "I'm getting you some water too. I don't doubt all you've drank today is coffee, so you need some proper fluids in you too before you go to sleep."

"Okay," Regulus nods. "I'm going to brush my teeth now because I'm pretty sure when I sit down I won't be able to get back up."

"Okay, love," James replies. 

He bends down to grab the damp towels, moving to hang them up and get into the kitchen to make something for Regulus to eat before he passes out. He doesn't get two steps before a hand is wrapping around his wrist. 

He looks down at Regulus, "What's—?"

He's cut off by Regulus reaching up and pressing their lips together. It's short and sweet, but still makes James feel weak at the knees. 

"Thank you," Regulus murmurs against his lips. 

"Always," James replies, kissing him once more quickly. "I'll bring your toast and drink into the bedroom, okay?"

As soon as Regulus lets him go, he doesn't stall in hanging up  the towels and going into the kitchen. 

He hears Regulus in the bathroom, and then shuffle into the bedroom. James quickly puts some food down for Sylvester. He's not sure if Pandora came over to do it while Regulus was at the hospital, but it won't hurt the cat if he's accidently fed twice. Regulus will be more heartbroken to know his cat went hungry because of his shifts. 

When the toast is done, James takes it and a glass of water into Regulus' bedroom. 

The bedside lamp is on, casting a soft golden hue over the room. Regulus is on the bed, curled into a ball and his hood up. For a moment, James is sure he's asleep, but then his head lifts off the pillow as soon as James takes a step towards the bed. 

"Hey," he croaks, smiling dopey. 

"Hey," James replies as he rounds the bed to put the plate and drink down on Regulus' bedside cabinet. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," Regulus grunts as he pushes himself into a sitting position. "Just tired."

James hums disbelievingly. "I feel like 'just tired' doesn't quite cut it."

Regulus raises an eyebrow, but doesn't verbally argue which makes James grin. He takes the plate off the side, nibbling on the end of a slice. James busies himself going round to his side of the bed, striping his clothes and getting under the covers. 

After a few prods and words of encouragement, Regulus finishes the toast and drinks his water. As soon as he's done, he's flicking the bedside lamp and sliding down the bed. He scoots so low only his nose and drooping eyes are visible. He pulls the duvet up to his nose, shuffling across the bed and plastering himself at James' side. 

James doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around the smaller boy and pull him as close as he can. He feels content, calm now that Regulus is in his arms, warm and sleepy. He runs a hand up and down Regulus' back, soaking up the quiet and deflating sigh the younger man lets out as his body goes completely boneless and limp in his arms. 

"Love you," Regulus says, words mumbled and slurring as he practically burrows his face into James' neck. 

James presses a kiss into the still damp curls on Regulus' head. 

"I love you too, sweetheart."

REGULUS

James stays at the flat with him for two days. 

When Regulus woke up the morning after his shift, he was wrapped in James' arms in bed with his face squished against the older man's bare chest. If it wasn't the best way to wake up after a harrowing shift, then Regulus doesn't know what is. 

Regulus has done a lot of hard shifts at the hospital. He's done a lot of long days, where the scheduled 12 hours have bled into 14, or 15, or 18. He's done shifts back to back without sleep in between, he's had shifts where he's declared time of death more times than he's prescribed medications. He's had shifts where he's left the hospital feeling like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, his legs too weak to pick his feet up properly. Regulus is used to it - he's had to be. He hasn't had any other choice than to get on with it, until now. 

Now, he has James. 

Or more like, James has barrelled into his life and refused to let him suffer with anything alone. 

Six months ago, no one would have drove him home. No one would have carried him into his flat, helped him shower, and made him toast to eat. Regulus would have done it all by himself, and he's always been fine with that. 

Except now he doesn't have to. 

It's a strange change of perception, but damn did it feel good. 

Never has such simple, domestic tasks felt so tender, so loving and thoughtful. 

Sure, Regulus has had the type of friendship group that are strangely domestic at times. Their relationships are platonically soft and loving, with tactile touches, sleepovers and Pandora going to his flat to feed Sylvester when he's on an overrunning shift. Yet, when James does it, it just feels so much more because he's doing it entirely out of choice, out of dedication. 

The thought makes Regulus feel kind of mushy inside. 

The first day after the critical incident shift, they just stay inside and watch movies. James waits on Regulus hand and foot, or at least he tries to. Regulus doesn't enjoy it. There's one thing being doted on a couple of times when you're deliriously tired, but when someone won't let you get off the sofa to make a cup of tea? He was just about climbing the walls by the evening. He agreed to watching films and relaxing with James, but he didn't expect the older man to become his servant. 

The day after, Regulus wakes with more spirit and energy. He also wakes up to James' mouth around his dick, so that helped lift his mood drastically.

"I need to go shopping today," Regulus announces as their finishing up their coffees. He's just got the email with his paycheck, which means the money is now in the bank and he can easily treat Sylvester to some of the expensive cat treats from the independent pet shop him and Pandora like to go to. 

James looks up from where he's reading the news on his phone. "Okay. That sounds like fun."

Regulus rolls his eyes. "You think everything sounds like fun, James."

"Well," he shrugs, "if I'm doing it with you, then yeah, anything and everything sounds like fun."

Regulus tries and fails to hide how much that makes his stomach flip.  

After about a minute of Regulus looking at his phone, James asks, "You okay?" 

"Yeah," Regulus replies, nodding. "Just looking at my payslip."

"There a problem?"

"No. It's quite good actually." 

"Can I be cheeky and look?"

Regulus lifts his head in surprise. "Why?"

"Because it's been so long since I've seen one and I was to live vicariously through yours."

"You're an idiot," Regulus huffs, but it comes out fond instead of mocking. He slides the phone over to James before turning to the coffee machine. "Knock yourself out."

He busies himself with making them both another coffee while James drools over his paycheck. 

He hears James whistle behind him, and then he cuts himself off and says, "Wait, is this how many hours you've worked this month?"

Regulus hums and nods, pressing the button so the machine whirls to life. 

"You've worked 286 hours in a month?" James asks, tone shrilling. "Regulus! What the fuck!"

Confused and startled by the outburst, Regulus looks over his shoulder and frowns, "What?"

"What!?" James shrieks, throwing his arms up in frustration. "What do you mean 'what'? That's insane, Reg! That's like 70 hours a week?"

Regulus blinks. 

Did James just do that calculation in his head?

Heat swims in Regulus' body.

That was kind of hot. 

"That was some attractively quick maths you just did,"

"Regulus!" James hisses, waving his own phone at him. "Do not distract me. This is serious!"

Regulus sighs in exasperation, swapping the mugs over when the first coffee finishes. "It's not a big deal, James."

"You're killing yourself working like this," James shivers, looking genuinely pained and upset. "You... you can't keep this up, Reg."

"Keep it up? This is what I do most months, James."

It's true. The numbers on the paycheck are no surprise to Regulus. Even Regulus' quietest months of shifts are still eye watering to some people. That's just the job. He's a doctor, of course he works a lot. He's needed. It's shift work; it's 12 hours minimum, and they start to add up after a while. 

"When was the last time you took a holiday?" James asks. 

Regulus frowns. "I haven't."

James' face falls. "What?"

"I haven't," Regulus echoes, shrugging. 

He's really struggling to understand James' expressive distress right now. 

"You've worked at the hospital for two years since you qualified. Before that, you spent four years doing placement and studying and exams. You've seriously never taken some annual leave and gone on holiday?"

Regulus shakes his head. "I'm pretty sure the only sick leave I've taken is those few days after New Years as well."

"I'm horrified," James whispers, breathless and looking so stumped. He shakes his head suddenly, tutting. "That's it! That's it, Reg. I'm not standing for this. We're going on holiday."

"What?" Regulus laughs. 

James shakes his head vigorously, pointing his finger at him like a disapproving mother does to their delinquent child. "I'm not joking. You need a holiday, Reg. It's bloody long overdue, and I'm not standing for it anymore."

"You want to go on holiday with me?"

"Of course I do," James assures softly. 

"What would we even do?"

James sputters, stuttering for a moment. "That's the joy of a holiday, Reg! You don't have to do anything."

"Then what's the point?" 

"Oh my god," James groans loudly. "You're breaking my heart, Regulus Black."

"You're welcome," Regulus quips as he slides the fresh mug of coffee towards the taller boy. 

"So not a good thing," James grumbles, rubbing his nose. "We're going on holiday. You're taking time off work, we're going to a different country, and we're going to do holiday stuff."

Regulus smiles. "Holiday stuff?"

"No arguments," James adds. "I'm taking you on the best holiday of your life."

"I'll hold you to that," Regulus warns, but he can't stop grinning. 

James smirks, rounding the counter slowly. "You'll be pleasantly surprised at my holiday planning skills. I'm quite the expert of fun."

Regulus' breath catches in trepidation when James suddenly grabs him by the hips, lifting him swiftly onto the kitchen island top. The taller boy steps in between his legs, his huge hands still on Regulus' waist, fingers teasingly rubbing circles on his hip bones. 

"Anything else you're good at?" Regulus asks, voice suddenly husky. He feels delirious with need, his blood boiling and his spine tingling. 

He can see that James is feeling the same as him. The familiar fire of burning hunger in his eyes shines through his dark eyelashes. 

James slowly connects their lips, passion floods ever inch of Regulus' body. A shiver runs down his spine, his stomach flipping and all the blood rushing to the growing tightness in his boxers. When James breaks away, their both breathless, lips swollen and arousal swarming them.

"Would you like me to tell you?" James asks gravely, kissing the angle of Regulus' jaw, "Or show you?"

"I've always been a visual learner."

"Is that so?"

"Definitely."

"I can work with that."

"Good," Regulus nods, grabbing James by the jaw, kissing him roughly once and growling, "Now get on with it."

"Aye, captain."

— tbc.