Behind The Cameras

REGULUS

Regulus expected to be in a million other positions when he woke up, but tangled in James's arms was not one of them. But he couldn't complain; James was warm, soft, and honestly just an amazing cuddler, like a huge teddy bear. Regulus didn't want to leave, nor could he since James had a tight arm around his waist, and even if Regulus tried, he wouldn't be able to get up without waking James up. But that doesn't mean Regulus isn't going to try.

Regulus tries his best—well, not really his best because, despite his embarrassment, he wants to stay longer in James's arms; if Regulus could, he would stay forever. But the moment he moves, James immediately tightens his arms around Regulus's waist, and honestly, Regulus is ready to die now. James Potter is holding him in his arms, and Regulus doesn't want nor need anything else. Goodbye.

Regulus was fully prepared to lay his head back onto James's warm chest, but he knew it would only fuck him up even more. So once again, Regulus tries to get out of James's cozy hold, but then James lets out the most delicious groan known to man, and Regulus wishes he could swallow it or maybe have James swallow him. He'd happily live inside James's body. Regulus buried his face in his hands, groaning softly into the crook of his arm. Merlin, help him. 

"Potter," Regulus starts and already regrets even speaking at all. 

James groans that delicious groan again and mutters sleepily, "5 more minutes."

"Sleep all you want, but just let go of me." Regulus answers, trying not to show him just how incredibly flustered he was.

"Noooo, stay with me." James whines, his voice muffled against the pillow. He nuzzles closer, and Regulus feels his resolve slipping, his chest tightening with something he can’t afford to name.

For a split second, Regulus considers giving in, letting himself stay here, cocooned in James’s warmth. But reality crashes in just as quickly. James didn’t mean it—not really. He wasn’t asking him to stay; he just wanted someone. Anyone.

Regulus takes a shaky breath, forcing himself to stay still. “Potter,” he tries again, his voice softer now, though he’s not sure if it’s for James’s sake or his own. "I need to get up."

James cracked one eye open, his face adorably scrunched. “Why? You got a boyfriend waitin’ for you?”

Regulus snorted despite himself. “No, I have a life,” he said, rolling his eyes.

To his surprise, James laughed, a quiet, sleepy sound, before finally loosening his hold. The absence of warmth was immediate and sharp, and Regulus missed it the second it was gone.

Carefully, he slid off the bed, doing his best not to disturb James further. He paused at the door, glancing back. James had already burrowed under the covers, his messy hair sticking out at odd angles. Regulus almost smiled but stopped himself, shaking his head.

With one last look, he slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. His heart was still pounding.

Get it together, Black, he thought again, though this time he wasn’t sure he could.

***

Both bands had begrudgingly shuffled into the hotel’s breakfast buffet that morning, the tension between them palpable. It wasn’t planned for them to sit together; the universe just had a cruel sense of humor. The Marauders claimed one side of the long communal table, loud and unbothered as usual, while the Emeralds silently took the other, their icy glares doing most of the talking.

Regulus, as always, was the picture of composure, carefully filling his plate with toast, eggs, and bacon. Very British of him. 

Sirius made the grand mistake of sitting next to Regulus."Hi, Reg."

What do you want?” Regulus asked, annoyed, barely sparing him a glance. But when he did look up, he frowned. Sirius’s eyeliner was smudged, his foundation uneven, and there was a faint sparkle of last night’s glitter still clinging stubbornly to his cheekbones. Regulus fought the urge to immediately fix it.

“Nothing, just saying hi. Is that not allowed?” Sirius teased, shoving a croissant into his mouth.

Regulus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you own a mirror? Or is this… chaos intentional?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, swallowing his bite. “Chaos? This is a look, baby brother. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Regulus muttered, already pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Sit still.”

“What are you—”

Before Sirius could protest, Regulus stood, heading back to his room. He returned moments later with his small makeup bag in hand, earning curious stares from both bands.

“What’s that?” Sirius asked, eyeing the bag warily.

“Your salvation,” Regulus said flatly, sitting back down and unzipping it.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” James whispered to Remus, nudging him.

“You’re not serious, Reg,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair.

“Dead serious,” Regulus replied, reaching for a makeup sponge. “Now sit still, or I’ll make you look worse than you already do.”

Sirius snorted but complied, sitting still as Regulus dabbed concealer onto his face with practiced precision. The table grew quiet as everyone watched, the tension temporarily forgotten.

Remus, seated across the table, had his chin propped in his hand, openly staring at Sirius. His gaze softened with every swipe of Regulus’s brush, his lips curving into a small, involuntary smile.

“You’re really going to let him do this?” Dorcas asked, breaking the silence.

“Why not?” Sirius said, smirking. “If anyone can make me look prettier, it’s Reg.”

“Prettier,” Regulus scoffed. “I’m salvaging a disaster.”

Remus coughed, his ears turning pink. “You’re not a disaster, Sirius,” he mumbled, then immediately looked like he regretted speaking.

Sirius grinned, turning to face him and nearly smudging the eyeliner Regulus was carefully applying. “Hear that, Reg? Moony thinks I’m perfect.”

“I said no such thing,” Remus muttered, looking down at his plate.

“Oh, but you were thinking it,” Sirius teased, his grin widening.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Stop moving, or I’ll stab you in the eye with this pencil.”

Despite the banter, Remus couldn’t take his eyes off Sirius. 

“There,” Regulus announced, finally pulling back. “At least now you don’t look like you’ve been through a tornado.”

Sirius turned to Remus, batting his lashes dramatically. “What do you think, Moony? Do I look devastatingly handsome?”

Remus, cheeks burning, pushed a piece of toast into his mouth to avoid answering.

James snorted. “You’ve officially ruined breakfast, Padfoot.”

But Sirius didn’t care. He was too busy winking at Remus, who couldn’t seem to meet his eyes anymore.

***

A few hours after breakfast, both bands were herded to the venue for their first soundcheck of the tour. Regulus trailed behind the group, his dark eyes scanning the bustling city streets as they passed by. The morning had been… tolerable, all things considered, but the idea of spending hours in a confined space with the Marauders already made his head ache.

The venue itself was massive, its sleek design contrasting sharply with the chaos simmering between the two bands. As they entered, the air was charged with a mix of nerves and excitement. Roadies darted around, hauling equipment and checking wires, their shouts echoing off the cavernous walls.

Regulus stuck close to his bandmates, arms crossed over his chest. The others didn’t speak much, their unspoken agreement to avoid interacting with the Marauders still intact.

He glanced ahead, where Sirius was already at the center of attention, as usual. His obnoxiously loud laugh rang out as he draped an arm around Remus, who looked like he was trying not to combust under the affection. Regulus rolled his eyes, focusing instead on the stage they were approaching.

The Emeralds were scheduled to soundcheck first, which was a small mercy. At least they’d get their work done without interference. Regulus climbed the stage, taking his place at the mic stand.

“Alright, everyone,” the sound engineer called out, his voice amplified through the speakers. “Let’s start with vocals, one at a time. Regulus, you’re up.”

He gave a curt nod, adjusting the mic height before stepping closer. His fingers tapped lightly against the stand as he waited for the signal. As soon as the sound engineer nodded, Regulus launched into one of their tracks, his rich, smooth voice filling the space.

Even as he sang, his gaze flickered over to the Marauders. James Potter had the audacity to look impressed, his grin growing wider with every note Regulus hit. Sirius, of course, looked like he wanted to make a joke but was wisely holding back.

When he finished, there was a moment of silence before the sound engineer called out, “Perfect. Next!”

Regulus stepped back, letting Barty take his place. As the rest of the Emeralds went through their checks, Regulus took a seat at the edge of the stage, watching the Marauders as they huddled together on the floor below. They were talking animatedly, as if this whole thing was just another game to them.

It was infuriating, how easily they could act like everything was fun and lighthearted. For Regulus, this tour wasn’t just about music—it was about proving himself. Proving that he wasn’t just “Sirius’s little brother” or some backup singer riding on his bandmates' talent.

“Don’t glare too hard, or you’ll set something on fire,” Pandora teased, dropping onto the stage beside him.

Regulus glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. “Just thinking.”

“About James?” she teased, smirking.

He scowled. “No. About how I got stuck here in the first place.”

Pandora laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Relax. It’s just soundcheck. The real fun hasn’t even started yet.”

Regulus wasn’t sure if that was comforting or ominous. Either way, he sat quietly as the rest of his band wrapped up, mentally bracing himself for the chaos that was bound to unfold when the Marauders took the stage.

JAMES

The sound check had gone great. but one thing hadn't left James's mind. Who hurt Regulus? Regulus had the most depressing songs known to man. And James wanted to do unspeakable things to whoever dared hurt this adorable man. Regulus deserved all the love in the world and to hear him sing about a horrible ex or being insecure made James go mental.

And how on earth did Regulus feel insecure? He must have been the most beautiful person James had the honor to lay eyes on. James just wanted to take Regulus in his arms and tell him just how beautiful he was and tell him everything was going to be okay but James knew better than that. Regulus doesn't like speaking about his emotions (Sirius says so).

They had just finished their sound check and were getting ready for the actual show. Everyone was doing their own thing, Meadowes and Pandora Rosier were talking together, Rosier and Crouch were making out, Remus and Sirius were flirting- 
James paused. ROSIER KISSING CROUCH? REMUS AND SIRIUS FLIRTING?? What the fuck was actually going on?

It seems like James's confusion was clear since Dorcas leaned over and whispered.
"Barty and Evan have been dating for two years now. They kiss like they're tryna eat eachother's face. You'll get used to it."
"Oh.. Okay." James replies, switching his attention to Sirius and Remus. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could tell that Remus was doing the most flirting and Sirius was just blushing like crazy, which was odd, James had never seen Sirius so flustered. Normally, Sirius would flirt with Remus but he never flirted back. So, to see Remus flirting like this and making Sirius go quiet was so crazy to James. But he wasn't complaining, anything to get these two to kiss already.

And then Regulus walks in, and James's world stops. Even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to peel his eyes off Regulus. Regulus was wearing a white crop top that said 'I heart Nerds' and a pair of sparkling dark green shorts. James's eyes refused to leave his waist and thighs. Regulus looked delicious, and all James wanted to do was swallow him whole. Merlin, help him.

After everyone got their outfits and makeup, the two bands finally headed onto the stage. The crowd screams in excitement. 

Sirius, being Sirius, went ahead and spoke into the mic. "Hello, Athens!" The crowd roars in response. Each band member did a little wave and stood in their positions. James grabbed his bass as the band's bassist, Remus sat in front of the drums and Peter grabbed his guitar, while Sirius stood in front of the mic, with Regulus standing beside him.

The music starts to play and Sirius's sugar-like voice fills the stadium.

"I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be
And satisfaction feels like a distant memory
And I can't help myself
All I wanna ever say is, 'Are you mine?' "

Regulus stepped forward, his voice sliding effortlessly into the verse. The crowd screamed even louder, and James swore the sound made his chest tighten.

Regulus didn’t just sing—he performed. Every gesture, every glance into the crowd felt deliberate, like he knew exactly how to make them fall in love with him.

And James? He wasn’t any better. He wasn’t sure he could remember how to breathe, let alone play.

As Regulus turned toward him during the fifth verse, their eyes locked. Just for a second. A flicker of something—curiosity? Mischief?—passed across Regulus’s face, and James’s fingers fumbled against the strings.

Regulus smirked. The little shit knew what he was doing.

James’s cheeks burned, but he couldn’t let Regulus win this round. He shifted closer, just slightly, letting the bass thrum through him as he played with more intensity.

Regulus noticed. His smirk grew wider, and for a moment, he turned toward the crowd, like he was giving them all the attention. But just as quickly, his gaze darted back to James, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

The crowd was screaming louder now, a mix of energy and chaos, and James wasn’t sure if it was because of the music or the charged tension between him and Regulus. Probably both.

***

The set ended in a whirlwind of applause, the crowd’s energy buzzing through James as they exited the stage. He wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced toward Regulus, who was already surrounded by adoring fans and bandmates.

James hesitated, his bass slung over his shoulder. Should he go up to him? Say something about the performance? About the smirk? Merlin, he’d sound like a fool.

But then, as if sensing his hesitation, Regulus turned, his lips curling into the same infuriatingly perfect smirk. He raised a brow, as if daring James to make a move.

James swallowed hard, then strode over, refusing to let his nerves win this time. His heart thudded loudly in his chest, but he was determined not to let it show. “You know, Black,” he started, his voice laced with forced confidence that wavered just slightly, “if you’re going to smirk at me like that all night, you might as well tell me what’s on your mind.”

Regulus turned fully toward him now, one dark brow arching in amusement. His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, more deliberate. “Oh, Potter,” he drawled, his tone cool but teasing, “if I told you what was on my mind, I’m not sure you’d survive it.”

James tilted his head, leaning just enough to close the space between them slightly. The buzz of the crowd, the chatter of the bandmates in the background—it all faded into white noise. “Try me,” he replied, his voice steady, his grin matching the challenge in Regulus’s expression.

Regulus’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, the smirk slipped, replaced by something unreadable—a flicker of curiosity, maybe even intrigue. He took half a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper that only James could hear. “Careful, James,” he said, his tone softer but far more dangerous. “You might get what you’re asking for.”

James’s breath hitched, but he stood his ground. The proximity was dizzying. He could see the faint sheen of sweat on Regulus’s temple, the way his black eyeliner had smudged slightly after the performance, and—Merlin help him—those lips.

“And what if I am asking for it?” James asked, his voice lower now, a thread of something daring weaving through his words.

Regulus’s smirk returned in full force, this time with a sharp edge. His eyes flickered down, just for a second, before meeting James’s again. “Then I’d say you’ve got more courage than brains. But I suppose that’s always been your thing, hasn’t it?”

James let out a shaky laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “You don’t seem to mind it.”

Regulus chuckled, a soft, almost disbelieving sound. He took a step back, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Careful, Potter,” he repeated, turning away toward the group of fans still waiting for him. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

James stood there, rooted to the spot, his mind racing. Dangerous? Maybe. But he’d never been one to shy away from a challenge—and Regulus Black was the most fascinating challenge he’d ever met.

James couldn’t take his eyes off Regulus as he walked away, the sway of his hips deliberate, his every move radiating confidence. He hated—no, loved—how effortlessly Regulus could get under his skin. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, trying to collect his thoughts. Dangerous game? Fine. James Potter wasn’t afraid of a little risk.

But before he could overthink it, Dorcas slid up beside him, a sly grin on her face. “Smooth, Potter,” she teased, bumping his shoulder with hers. “You looked like a kicked puppy for a second there. Thought I was gonna have to drag you away before you embarrassed yourself.”

James glared at her half-heartedly. “I wasn’t—” He cut himself off, knowing he’d never win an argument with her. “He started it.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did.” Dorcas gave him a knowing look. “But you’re the one who looked ready to combust. Honestly, James, just snog him already.”

James sputtered, his cheeks flushing. “It’s not like that!” he protested, a little too loudly.

“Sure, sure,” Dorcas said, waving him off, her grin widening. “Whatever you say. Just don’t forget we’ve got stuff to do. Try not to let Regulus distract you too much.”

James watched her disappear into the crowd, muttering under his breath. “I’m not distracted,” he lied.

He was completely distracted.

Still, he shook it off and headed toward the greenroom where the bands were supposed to meet. As he pushed open the door, the sound of laughter greeted him. Sirius was perched on a couch, his arm draped lazily over Remus’s shoulder, talking animatedly about the crowd’s energy. Barty and Evan were curled up in the corner, sharing a plate of snacks. And Regulus? Regulus was leaning against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, his phone in hand, typing something with a faint smirk on his face.

James hesitated in the doorway, but Regulus didn’t so much as glance up. Ignoring the weird flutter in his chest, James walked over to Peter, who was fiddling with his guitar in the corner.

“Hey, Pete,” James started casually, trying to act like his heart wasn’t racing. “How’s it sound?”

Peter barely looked up. “Fine. Why?”

James opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, Regulus’s voice cut through the room like a knife.

“Staring again, Potter?”

James froze. Every head in the room turned to look at him, and he could feel the heat rising in his face. Regulus had finally looked up from his phone, his sharp grey eyes locked onto James with the same smirk he’d worn on stage.

“I—” James stammered, his usual charm completely failing him. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, of course not,” Regulus said smoothly, pushing off the wall and walking toward him. “You were just... observing, I’m sure.”

James swallowed. Regulus stopped just a little too close, his head tilted ever so slightly. “You’re very good at it,” Regulus added, his voice low enough that only James could hear. “Observing.”

James’s mouth went dry. “Maybe I just like what I see,” he said, surprising even himself with the boldness of his reply.

Regulus blinked, his expression faltering for just a fraction of a second before that damned smirk returned. “Careful, Potter,” he said for the third time that night, his voice softer, almost amused. “You might start to make me believe you.”

And just like that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving James standing there, flustered and more determined than ever.

Dorcas’s voice echoed in his mind. Just snog him already.

Maybe he would.