Chapter Text
If Regulus knew that all it would take for James Potter to notice him was getting violently ill, he would’ve gotten himself hospitalized years ago.
New Year's Eve in London left Regulus wishing his suit jacket was a little thicker as he stepped out of the limousine, Barty and Dorcas in tow. Events as fancy as this one used to freak him out and remind him too much of those cold, stuffy parties his parents had forced him to. But this invitation was from Effie and Monty. He could already hear the laughter coming from inside the doors.
Swatting away the festive glasses Barty yet again tried and failed to get him to wear, Regulus stepped inside the venue, absently checking his jacket as he scanned the din.
Not for anyone, obviously. It didn’t matter if he caught a hint of bronze skin out of the corner of his eye, or tried to follow a flash of gold, because he wasn’t trying to find him.
“Don’t worry, you look good,” Dorcas brushed his arm, her eyes as warm as her smile.
Regulus sniffed haughtily. “I know,”
“You were redoing your eyeliner a lot for someone who’s not worrying,”
“It has to be symmetrical, you of all people should know that,”
“Why, because I’m a woman?”
“No, because you’re a f*cking perfectionist!” He scoffed, despite Dorcas’ grin.
“Oh, you of all people-”
“Losers!” Barty interjected, swinging hazardous arms around the both of them. Had they not been tied at the hip for so many years, Regulus would’ve pushed him off much sooner. “We’re not here to argue, we’re here to get f*cked!”
Several heads turned. Per usual, Barty Crouch Jr neither had a filter nor volume control.
He didn’t seem to care though, crusading on at Dorcas’ deadpan look and completely ignoring Regulus’ murderous one. “Okay, yeah, maybe not you, Dorcas, ‘cuz you’re boring and in a committed relationship-
“You’re just jealous you can’t keep someone for more than a week,”
“-but Reg! This is your night!” Barty shook his shoulders, leading to Regulus shoving him off with a scowl and an adjustment to his collar. Barty, used to it by now, just turned to Dorcas. “That actually really hurt my feelings, Meadows, I can’t believe you’d say that,”
“It’s true,” She shrugged with a smug little grin.
Barty gasped. “I can date someone! Everyone loves me!”
“Do they?” Regulus raised an eyebrow at his now-offended friend.
“Uh, duh! I bet you I can cuff someone by the end of the night!” A sudden grin spread across Barty’s face at the idea. “In fact, I bet you we all will have someone by the end of the night. Hundred bucks,” He added when Regulus’ uninterested expression didn’t change. Barty and his trust fund.
Dorcas smiled. “I’ll take that action,”
“But that’s cheating!” Barty whined. “You’re practically a guarantee,”
“Hey, you said a hundred bucks! Or do you want my small talk tonight to be about your little accident at the fair last summer?”
Regulus had forgotten how much he loved Dorcas’ lethal streak.
The threat clearly worked, as Barty blanched at the mere thought of the memory. “Fine, fine, bet’s on for everyone. Right, Reg?”
The boy in question expertly dodged an elbow to the side. “Fine,” He gritted his teeth. He needed a new lego set anyways.
“Perfect,” Barty’s grin was practically maniacal. He said something else, but Regulus had already drowned him out, his focus back to the crowd.
Black tie events were great until you had to find someone. With the room a mess of tuxedos, glittering champagne, and extravagant dresses, Regulus could hardly focus on anything, let alone what he was looking for. Or rather, who.
Absently nodding at Dorcas as she dove into the crowd in search for Marlene, Regulus almost stood on his toes to look into the crowd. Maybe he hadn’t come. Maybe he’d called his parents with soothing apologies in Spanish and promises of dinner next Friday. Maybe he was at some trashy club with Sirius, a little drunk and already dancing with some blond he would stumble home with after. Maybe-
Holy sh*t.
Tuxedos seemed to be made for James Potter. The crisp white shirt clung to his toned figure in all of the best places, cuffed at the wrists and tight at the biceps. The hand he was running through his mess of black curls was adorned with a simple gold ring that flashed as he waved his hands animatedly, in an energetic conversation with Sirius. His gold-rimmed glasses were a little too crooked, his tie a touch too loose. Regulus itched to tighten it. Or even better, to take it off altogether, to chase the line of his neck with his lips and watch James’ head fall back with a pant, his fingers pressing bruises into Regulus’ hips.
He wanted James to do wonderful, horrible things to him, thoughts that had come about ever since he was twelve and had only gotten worse when the Potters took them in. But he wasn’t a kid anymore, he was twenty-four and far too old to keep fixating on something as stupid as this. By all means, he shouldn’t entertain childish crushes, and certainly not on James Potter.
Even if he had imagined that mouth against his skin more times than he’d like to admit.
“You’re drooling,”
Regulus’ heart jumped and he quickly wiped the side of his mouth. When his sleeve came back dry, he glared at his best friend. Barty only looked on with a false-innocent kind of glee.
“You’re not funny,”
“I’m so funny. You wanted to eat him alive,”
Sometimes, Regulus thought that confiding in Barty about his little– whatever it was, was the biggest mistake of his life. Well, not the biggest, but definitely the most annoying. “Keep talking, and you won’t make it to the new year,”
“Awww, but how will you win our bet? I mean, f*cking James Potter is it’s own prize, but-” He was promptly silenced by Regulus’ hand over his mouth.
”Shut up!” He hissed, quickly glancing around the crowd to make sure no one had heard. If Effie or Monty or god forbid James himself had heard that stupid remark, he- he’d-
Well, he didn’t know what he’d do, but it’d be something along the lines of taking a lovely one-on-one bath with his toaster.
Barty took it upon himself to lick Regulus’ hand and free himself as the other boy recoiled, wiping the spit on his slacks. “Oh, you’re dead, Crouch-”
“Regulus!” His head snapped up, rampage paused for the moment as Effie glided up to him, all warmth in a deep purple dress and her signature smile. She swept him up into a warm hug, and he let her. This woman was more of a mother than his biological one could ever be, and despite having seen her just a month ago for Christmas, Regulus found that he missed her more than he thought. “Oh, feliz año nuevo, it’s so good to see you! Why don’t you come around anymore, hm?” She pulled back, raising an expectant eyebrow.
Regulus smiled apologetically. He’d always have a soft spot for Effie. “You know what my work’s like, as well as keeping Barty in check,” He shot a quick glare at his best friend, who smiled innocently.
“Hi Mrs. Potter!”
“Oh yes, I remember,” Effie laughed, nodding at Barty. “Keeping out of trouble, hon?”
“As always,” He grinned. A blatant lie if Regulus ever heard one.
Monty was right behind his wife, a warm hand clapping Regulus’ shoulder as his ears tinged. He quietly thought Monty was objectively hot, and often wondered if James would look similar when he was older. James, setting Regulus’ morning cup of coffee on their bedside table as he climbs back under the covers, pressing lazy kisses to his temple. James, with smile lines and graying hair, chuckling as Regulus works at the buttons of his shirt after a long day of work, when the sky is dark and their fireplace is lit. James’ hands still being as good as ever as they-
“Hey kid, how’s it going?”
Regulus blinked. “Good- It’s going good,”
f*ck, he really needed to get a handle on his imagination. The Potters were making him f*cking soft.
“How come I don’t see you anymore, huh?” Monty’s voice was deep but cheery, and Regulus was almost touched that they seemed to miss him.
“Well, it’s-”
“Come around more often, mijo! We’re going to do family dinners every Sunday this year,” Effie added, before nudging him playfully. “You can even bring a boyfriend if you want,”
“Oh, I don’t- I’m not seeing anyone right now,” Regulus stiffened, and out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw James glance their way.
Effie’s smile was sly. “Well, if you need me to introduce you to anyone tonight…”
It took a few minutes to assure Effie that thank you, but no, he wouldn’t need her help finding anyone at this party, but yes, he would come to the dinners on Sundays, and if she could please text him the time he should be there, that would be great, thank you. But Regulus managed, letting the two spin off to greet other guests with a hug and a cheek kiss that would be given out to no others at this party. Or maybe ever.
“You should’ve taken her up on that,” Barty grinned as the two meandered over to the bar. “Really would’a put you ahead and all,”
“I don’t need help, thanks,” Regulus scowled.
“See, you say that, but you’ve also been pining over the same guy for twelve years, so really, I think I’m beginning to doubt your abilities,”
Regulus’ glare could kill a small country. “I’m going to kill you,”
“Been saying that since you met me, haven’t ya?”
Despite himself, Regulus looked over at where James was. And then whipped his head back around, clearing his throat. He was looking at him. Regulus couldn’t shake those hazel eyes off of him, burning with some kind of bright curiosity behind those stupid, gold-rimmed glasses.
Barty, noticing the state of his friend and then the obvious reason for it, rolled his eyes. “I’m too sober for this. Hey, could I grab a few jaeger shots?” he asked the bartender, whose blond eyebrows shot to his hairline. Evan, his delicately-printed name tag read.
“You sure?”
“Only if you are, hon,” Barty winked. Whether he noticed the tips of the bartender’s ears go red, Regulus didn’t know. That was just how Barty operated.
“And for you?” Evan was apparently choosing to ignore Barty.
“Just an espresso martini works,”
Barty didn’t miss the change in Regulus’ usual drink order. “Staying up late tonight, are we?”
“Not like I’m gonna be able to sleep anyways,” Regulus kept his tone neutral, like his concealer wasn’t hiding killer dark circles.
“Mmm, well, speaking of staying up late,” Barty’s eyes had hooked onto a moving figure in the crowd. “Hon, I’m gonna need another one of whatever that guy’s having,”
Evan sent him an ‘are you serious’ look as he slid their drinks across the counter. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific on that one,”
“Uhh, tall, blond, great ass-” He paused to down his shots, drawing in a quick breath after.
“Unless you can tell me what he’s drinking, I can’t help you,”
“What if you smelled it on my breath in a few hours?”
“...It’d be better than nothing,”
“Then why not a tequila shot for now. For luck?” Barty added innocently when Evan furrowed his brow, taking his now-empty glasses reluctantly. Hardly for the first time, Regulus wondered if his friend was actually an idiot.
“Alright Reg, get your money ready and avoid the coat closet, because I’m about to win this bet,” He grinned, rubbing his hands together rather conspiritally.
Regulus only squinted at him. “Why am I paying you?? This is your bet, and–”
“Shhhh, hush, little lamb,” Barty pressed a finger to Regulus’ lips, something he swatted away with a scowl. “Let's keep it professional, okay?”
Regulus waited all of two seconds.
“I’m gonna go bone in the coat closet!!!” Barty gleefully whisper-shouted to his friend. As if Regulus didn’t already get that.
“Professional. Right,”
“Don’t worry, we won’t bone by your coat,”
“I hate you so-”
But Evan was already handing him his drink, and even through his annoyance, Regulus didn’t miss the way their hands brushed against the glass. “Thanks babe,” Barty winked. “I’ll be back with that drink,”
If this ruffled any of the bartender’s feathers, he certainly didn’t show it. And Barty didn’t seem to mind. “I’ll see ya,” He nudged Regulus, before diving into the crowd of mingling bodies.
Regulus didn’t need to turn around to know that he was making his way towards the middle of the crowd. He simply had to watch Evan’s eyes follow Barty’s back. “He’ll be back,”
“What?”
“Barty. He won’t miss a chance to flirt with someone. Or an open bar, for that matter,”
Evan pretended he didn’t care, taking the drink order of a man a few seats down before turning back to Regulus. “Not worried, I’m just doing my job,” he scoffed.
“If you say so,” Regulus took the excuse to turn in his seat to survey the crowd, his drink in hand. James was nowhere to be found, though by the boisterous laughter he heard echoing off of the walls, Regulus figured he and his little possy were still around the main area of the venue. His eyes snagged instead on a pair of chocolate brown ones, attached to the tall, well-built man he’d clocked within the first ten minutes of the party.
Except now he was making his way over to the bar with an intrigued kind of smile. Maybe Regulus would get some escape from James that evening.
“You must know what those eyes do to a guy,” This stranger’s voice was sweet and polite, an interesting juxtaposition to his buzzed hair and eyebrow piercing.
Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me,”
“Only if you don’t mind me getting another drink for confidence,” The stranger chuckled, letting his hand brush Regulus’ forearm.
Regulus had heard the compliments before, on many different nights, on many different tongues. It was hardly new. But even so, he let himself feign interest, and settled into that easy routine of back and forth, small jokes and smaller touches at the thigh, the arm, and the knee as they shifted against each other on their bar seats.
He didn’t learn much. This stranger’s name was Marcus, twenty-six, and his aunt was a close friend of Effie’s. It was hardly anything, but Regulus didn’t mind. Marcus was nice, with his soft gaze, his easy words, his hands that twitched but didn’t touch Regulus until Regulus did first. Marcus was nice. He needed someone like Marcus.
Even if somewhere in his mind, he wished he was just a year older.
Even if somewhere very small, he wished those eyes were hazel.
Yeah, he needed someone like Marcus.
“Y’know, I’ve been to a few functions here,” The guy mused. “Gettin’ to know the building well and all,”
“Have you now?”
“Could even show you some hiding spots if y’want,” Marcus finally, finally placed a large hand on Regulus’ thigh, where it tentatively stayed as he leaned in. Regulus pretended to think it over, though he knew where this would go.
He’d most likely end up getting Marcus off in some random bathroom or closet, working him into party-acceptable shambles as Regulus would breathe him in, pressed up against some too-close wall and trying not to think of certain people just outside of the space. Then once it was over he’d stand back, adjust his collar, and leave, with the only evidence of anything remotely scandalous happening being his slightly ruffled curls and bruised lips. If he liked it, he’d exchange numbers and keep seeing him until he wouldn’t. If he didn’t, he’d never see Marcus again. Just the way it always went. Just the way it had to be.
“I’d be open to that,” Regulus looked up at the guy through oil black lashes, amused as he felt the fingers on his thigh spasm.
“Great, let’s-”
“Reggie!!”
f*ck.
The one and only Sirius Black was striding towards his little brother, his eyes wild with excitement. He was never one to turn down a party.
He was clad in a tuxedo of his own, his dark curls pulled back to accentuate his ruddy cheeks and bright blue eyes. On his left, with a scarred hand resting on his waist, was Regulus’ favorite of the group, his fiancee Lupin, who gave him a polite nod, and Peter Pettigrew, who, despite apparently being James’ close friend from childhood, Regulus still didn’t know much about. And on his right was the very person Regulus was trying to– he didn't even know at this point. Avoid, maybe? Or even worse, find.
James Potter wore an easy smile, but if Regulus had looked his way a second longer, he wouldn’t have missed the slightest tense of his neck as his gaze went to the stiffened grip Marcus had on Regulus’ thigh. Sirius hadn’t missed the hand placement either, and with a single cough and glare from icy blue eyes Marcus quickly retracted his hand.
“What do you want, Sirius?” Regulus rolled his eyes, choosing not to look at James.
The older Black brother took the harsh greeting in stride, far too used to it by now and far too devoted to his little brother to mind. “To wish you a happy new year!” He grinned, trying and failing to pat him on the shoulder before turning to Marcus. “And to ask who this is, of course,”
“Try none of your concern,” Regulus retorted coolly before a slightly awkward Marcus could introduce himself.
Frankly, he was surprised Sirius wasn’t having an aneurysm at the mere sight of Regulus with a guy. There’d been a ridiculous amount of times his brother had scared perfectly decent guys away from Regulus, though he supposed Remus and the drink in his hand had loosened that stick up his ass, at least for tonight. He got that it was a protection thing, but it wasn’t like Sirius wasn’t twice as much of a manwhor* when he was Regulus’ age. He could voice all of these issues to Sirius (again) later. For now, he supposed he was content with the dramatic, baffled look on his brother’s face.
“None of my concern? You’re my baby-”
“Legal adult,”
“My baby-legal-adult-brother!” Remus, clearly the only rational one of the group, placed a hand on one of Sirius’ outstretched ones and lowered it. If nothing else, the Black brothers had adopted the Potter family habit of talking with their hands when they moved in all those years ago. Sirius just didn’t care about it as much as Regulus did.
“Reg doesn’t have to say anything,” The scarred man reassured his fiance, looking back at Regulus with a raised eyebrow. “We probably wouldn’t run into them anyways,”
Regulus, stupid, moronic Regulus, couldn’t help it. He glanced at James, and upon finding those hazel eyes already studying him, quickly looked away with a scowl. He hoped he wasn’t as red as Marcus.
Even Evan winced at the pause, but Marcus, in all his glory, had apparently decided that he wouldn’t be the reason the conversation died. “My name’s Marcus,” His outstretched hand was finally shook by Remus, always the polite one.
“Remus Lupin,”
“I’m Peter Pettigrew,”
“James Potter,” James’ smile was bright, and something horrible in Regulus sunk at how okay he was with this. With Marcus’ knee pressed against Regulus’, with the idea that it would be Marcus that he’d be going home with tonight. But that was stupid. Of course he wouldn’t care.
Regulus found that in his thought process, he’d zoned out staring at the hollow behind James’ collarbone, and blinked away his frustration. He hadn’t seemed to notice, anyway. Sirius had already given his name to Marcus, who tilted his head warmly.
“You’re his brother?”
“Real smart one, aren’t you,” Sirius narrowed his eyes.
“You won’t have to worry about me and Regulus,” Marcus assured him with a sheepish chuckle, and Regulus bit the inside of his cheek as he finished his drink. “I’m even surprised he looked my way,”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of-”
“Don’t you have other things to do?” Regulus snapped, refusing to endure his brother’s snippity remarks any longer.
Sirius’s toothy grin shifted back into place. “Oh yes, and speaking of,” He pulled his fiance in by the waist. James had stepped away, ordering some more tequila shots from Evan. “While I was doing other things,” Remus rolled his eyes lightly at Sirius’ pointed glance. “We saw somethin’ you might be interested in. Figured I’d let you know,”
Regulus squinted at his brother when he didn’t elaborate. “Well?”
“It’s a surprise!”
Regulus hated surprises, and he was about to say so when James spoke up as he passed a pair of tequila shots to Sirius. The lime slices impaled on the rims of the glasses slid precariously as they changed hands from large, gold-adorned ones to slender, pale ones. “You’ll like it,” He grinned, and Regulus’ stomach flipped. God, he didn’t know what he was doing, did he?
“You don’t know what I like,” He glared at him.
“I know you’ll like this,”
That made something in him prickle, the idea that James knew anything about him, much less knew what he liked making something set behind his ribcage. He shifted at the thought, his cool demeanor dropped for barely a second, to his utter horror. No one seemed to notice, though, focused on Marcus, or each other, or Evan, as Peter ordered another drink.
Regulus glowered at the group for a second or two as Sirius and Peter downed their shots, Remus examined Marcus, and James studied him behind gold-rimmed glasses. He twisted his rings.
They wouldn’t prank him, would they? He’d always been exempt from their schemes back when they were in school, and they were at a high class party, but nothing stopped the Marauders when they had a plan. That being said, even Peter, who couldn’t hold back a laugh to save his life, looked genuine. sh*t.
Chewing on his bottom lip, Regulus finally turned to Marcus. Leaning in slowly, he made sure his breath was hot against his skin, his lips twitching into an almost-smile at the man’s shudder. “Give us a second,” He whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “And I’ll find you. If you’re still in the mood to show me some hiding spots,”
Marcus nodded vigorously as Regulus pulled away, blushing into his buzz cut as he slid out of his seat. “Yeah- great, uh- Nice to meet you guys!” He waved at the Marauders as he backed into the crowd. “I’ll see you later,” He called to Regulus with a wink. And then he was gone. Four sets of eyes settled on Regulus.
Sirius spoke first. “My brother’s a slu*t!” He groaned, burying his face in his hands as his partner patted him sympathetically. Regulus only looked down his nose at him. The couple of inches he had on his brother was definitely up there on his list of favorite things.
“You have no room to talk,”
“He’s not wrong,” Remus shrugged sheepishly as Sirius spluttered. “Hey, don’t tell me you forgot what you were like before we started dating?”
“Hmph, maybe I’d be better off like that, now that you mention,” Sirius sniffed, turning up his nose.
Remus only rolled his eyes, though a smile played at his lips. “Uh huh, see if I care,”
“You would, because you love me so so much,”
“Do I now?”
“Last I checked,” Sirius leaned into his fiance, grinning cheekily. Regulus shifted awkwardly as their conversation dissolved into quiet teasing and pokes before James nudged them, coughing into his sleeve jokingly. Always saving the day, it seemed.
“Okay, okay, maybe save the shagging for after we show him,” He suggested teasingly as the two separated, Remus straightening his tie and Sirius not even caring to.
“Right, sorry Regulus,” Remus tugged at the end of his blazer, flashing him a slightly-embarrassed smile.
“I’m not!” Sirius announced as Regulus rolled his eyes. “If you lose us along the way do not come find us, because I will be-” The rest of his sentence was cut off by Remus’ hand over his mouth, though Regulus never wanted to hear it anyways.
“Right then, if we’re all collected-” Remus glared at his partner. “Lets go,”
“Oh- I promised Emmeline I would meet her,” Peter piped up, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “You guys have fun, though!” He flashed an odd sort of glance at James as he ducked into the crowd, and Regulus didn’t miss the way James stiffened. sh*t, this might be a prank.
“Vamanos!” Sirius exclaimed, diving into the crowd after them, hand in hand with Remus. James followed, and then a hesitant Regulus trailing behind them.
He really hadn’t realized how many people were there until he was forcing his way through them, armed with cold glares and a stiff set of his shoulders. Effie and Monty didn’t often throw extravagant parties, but when they did, they went all out.
James’ back was beginning to get farther away, and Regulus was beginning to struggle maneuvering around the partygoers, his lips twisting when fabric or skin or glass brushed against him. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all. It was too hot, there were too many people around, closing in on him, god, why did he even say yes to those morons?
Curtly pardoning himself as he strode past a clan of women in feather boas, Regulus looked up to find countless flashy fabrics and tuxedos and ties… but no James. sh*t.
Regulus craned his neck as he turned, trying to look above heads for unruly dark curls or gold-rimmed glasses while trying in vain to keep from brushing up against someone. Was the whole town here or something?
He needed to get out of here. f*ck Sirius and his surprises, f*ck James and that grin that made Regulus want to follow him anywhere, really, f*ck this whole party! He honestly shouldn't have come in the first place- why was he even here? He should leave. He should just-
“Reg!” A hand was at his arm, and Regulus blinked, jerking to face a familiar pair of gold-rimmed glasses. “Hey, you okay?”
Regulus furrowed his brow, jolting away from James’ touch with a scowl. He hadn’t noticed he had stopped being quite all there. “I’m fine, Potter,”
“You sure? I didn’t-“
“Are you going to stand there and doubt me?” Regulus looked up at him coolly, suddenly hating the height James had on him. And the inches between them. “Or are you going to show me whatever this is that’ll blow me away? Don’t think I’m not still skeptical,”
Regulus wasn’t special. This was just that compassionate, caring James that was always there for everyone when they needed it. Outwardly, he was just, well, like that. With no exception for his best friend’s little brother.
“Right, I just thought that-“ James tilted his head, a rouge curl falling just above his eyes as he examined Regulus for just a second. It made his spine tingle. “Y’know what, don’t worry about it. C’mon!”
Before Regulus had a chance to say otherwise, James’ hand had gently enclosed around his wrist, and he was led through the crowd.
“Potter- I can follow you on my own!” Regulus protested, almost certain that the other man could feel his pulse racing beneath his fingers.
James didn’t falter for a second, though he half-twisted to look back at Regulus as he maneuvered them around a rather loud group cracking jokes in Spanish. “Hmm, but look where that got you last time!” He remarked, smug enough to make Regulus scowl.
“I was just- I saw someone,” Regulus sniffed haughtily.
“I mean, I can always carry you, if that’s what you’d prefer,” James’ grin was practically devilish by now.
Regulus was sure his glare would be a lot colder if his ears weren’t so red. “I can walk just fine,” He seethed. It was much safer to be mad.
“Suit yourself,” James shrugged, and Regulus was once again struck by how unbothered he seemed. And how much it irked him. “But just know, you’re missing out,”
And he winked.
James Potter winked, and something in Regulus’ brain combusted.
“Just- Just show me this f*cking surprise, before I go back to the bar,” He scowled, his gaze averted as he snatched his hand away. He’d been all too aware at how long James had been holding his wrist.
They had reached the edge of the crowd, just inside a roped off hallway. James promptly ignored the feeble warning and stepped over the velvet cord, seeming much less worried about the people around them noticing as Regulus was.
“You won’t go back to the bar,” His smile was as lopsided as his tone was assured. “You want to know what it is, don’t you?”
These f*cking people skills needed to be taken away from him.
“No,” Regulus scowled.
“Uh huh, so you’re going to turn around and…”
“Call security on you,”
“At my own parent’s party?”
sh*t. “Find my brother,” Who had mysteriously and conveniently disappeared in the crowd, along with his fiance.
“I mean, go for it, but I can only warn you about what you’re going to find,”
Double sh*t. “Go back to the bar, then,” Regulus narrowed his eyes. “I’ve got better people to see,”
James, with his arms crossed and amused smile from across the rope, didn’t seem to have any reaction to this insinuation. That barest set of his jaw must’ve been the light, or Regulus making excuses for James to care.
“What, you’re telling me you don’t want to spend your last night of the year with your best friend?”
Oh, how he wished he could.
“You’re Sirius’ friend, not mine,” Regulus snapped.
“That hurts, Reggie,”
“Don’t call me that,”
“Why not?”
“Because-” Because that name was for Sirius. For his brother. And James was definitely not his brother. He never had been, despite the shared house and holidays and family dinners.
But Regulus would rather do stand-up at Sirius’ wedding than say any of that to him, so instead he begrudgingly ducked under the rope, letting James catch up as he stalked down the ornate hallway. “Let's just get this over with,”
“What made you come around?” James’ grin seemed to split his face as he ambled along next to him.
“The desire for you to stop bothering me. It’s annoying,”
“How am I annoying?” He almost seemed genuine.
“Just- everything,” Regulus retorted sharply, worried that focusing on one specific feature would have… the opposite outcome than intended.
“Everything? There isn’t one thing you like about me?”
Why was he asking this? “If you’re looking for praise, Potter-”
James raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not, I’m not,” He reassured him with an easy grin as he made a sharp left. After a second of Regulus refusing to trot to catch up to him, he simply turned around to grin at him. “Got enough of that already,”
“It shows,”
“Thank you!”
“That’s not a compliment, jackass. I’m surprised your head fits in this building,”
“You’re always so sunny, Reg,” If it weren’t for the word choice, Regulus would’ve almost thought he meant it. But before he could form a sharp-tongued retort, James stopped in front of two large oak doors. “And we’re here,”
Regulus stalled, narrowing his eyes at James. The lighting was low in the hallway, providing deep shadows across his grin and a light glow on his glasses as he rested a hand on the doorknob. He didn’t turn it.
“If you prank me, Potter-”
The man in question furrowed his brows and tilted his head, his eyes widening. “You- you thought this was a prank?” His free hand carded through his curls as he huffed out a small laugh. Regulus only glared at him. What was so f*cking funny? “Jesus, we really need to work on your trust issues”
“I do not have goddamn trust issues,”
“Ooh, maybe we can work on your language while we’re at it!” Regulus hated the glint in James’ eye as he swept open the door. Hated that this was funny to him, and almost bit his tongue snapping back as he walked into the room.
“What, do you want me to tell you in french that my language is f*cking-”
Hold on. What was this?
Regulus’ retort died in his throat as he took a couple tentative steps into the room, suspiciously looking back at James once or twice. There was nothing special about this room; Sure, its walls were pale, ornate, marble, and the flickering fireplace was almost the size of him and inlaid in gold, but the luxury of the room was nothing new to him. It was nothing special, if anything, it was almost lackluster to what Regulus had grown up around. The only thing of real note was-
“You brought me here to see a piano?” He hadn’t meant the question to sound so harsh, but he was confused, and as much as he hated to admit it, a little disappointed.
Anyone on the street could know that Regulus was revered as a musical prodigy with one google search, but even James should’ve known how many times Regulus had been pressured to play at social gatherings. Had he just thought that the mere sight of a piano would set Regulus’ soul at ease? Or had he just wanted to hear a pretty song? Either of these options hardly appealed to Regulus, who turned on his heel to glare at James, who had shut the door behind them and was now leaning with his back to the frame.
“I wouldn’t drag you out here to just see any piano,” Despite his relaxed stance, James’ eyes were trained on Regulus. He almost looked… nervous. “Go look,”
Regulus was sent in the direction of James’ nod like a damn dog, drifting towards the piano with new eyes to scrutinize it with. Keys just a few shades off of white, but the warm wood still glossy, despite its age. A pair of delicate golden candles, and in between them, a carved-out music stand with yellowing paper still standing on it. His fingers grazing the upper panel, Regulus sucked in a breath as something clicked in his brain. He knew this model.
“This is Chopin’s,” He breathed.
“His very own,” James confirmed from behind him. Regulus almost jumped as he turned. He hadn’t heard him walk in.
Regulus had so many questions, but James standing there in the firelight with an almost bashful smile seemed to make his brain melt, and suddenly his words were spilling out in hoards. James was close. “I- How did you- I thought this was in a museum?”
“I guess not,”
One step more and he’d be entirely in his space.
“You just- why is it here?”
If Regulus reached out, he could fix those slightly lopsided glasses. His fingers twitched at the thought.
“Couldn’t tell ya. I just found it while I was walking around a few hours ago,” James shrugged– shrugged! Like finding a world famous pianist’s personal million-dollar piano just some normal occurrence.
“You ‘just found it’.”
“Pretty much, yeah,”
If Regulus were in a less awestruck state of mind, he might’ve questioned this further. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t.
“And I can- I can touch it?” Regulus dropped his gaze, letting his fingers hover over the highest key and feeling as though he would contaminate the instrument if he felt it again.
James let out a small laugh, almost like he couldn’t help it. “Yeah- yes, you can touch it, Reg. Play it, if you want,” He nodded, his grin like afternoon sun. “Whatever you want,”
And oh, Regulus wanted. He wanted so badly. Tentatively, he sat at the bench, his fingers trailing along the keys as he did so.
And for the first time in a long time, Regulus paused over the keys.
Every time Regulus had sat down at a piano, he’d had something to play. Pristine sheet music slid into the stand, his mother expectantly standing behind him, or in a theater’s crowd, a slightly wrinkled playbook with his piece in print. Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich, Chopin himself. Always something. But now, at this piano, the piano, he found himself at a loss.
“This is- it’s really his,” He should’ve phrased it as a question by the way it took James a second to respond, but really, this couldn’t be real. Was this the prank?
“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” James must’ve noticed the way he was hanging in a space between awe and uncertainty. Regulus blinked, stiffening as the other man crossed to sit beside him. “I gotcha,”
“You play piano?” Regulus furrowed his brow.
James beamed, looking all too proud to throw Regulus for a loop. “I do,” He shifted comfortably at the bench, before resting just a pointer finger on the keys and tapping out a simple melody. Regulus scowled, recognizing the tune.
“Mary had a little lamb isn’t piano,”
“Are you doubting my abilities?”
“Very much so,”
James tilted his head, his eyes brightening with an idea. It was like you could see it forming in his head. Regulus frowned. “What,”
“T- You could teach me,”
“What?”
“Piano. Since my skills are apparently so horrible,” He huffed out another laugh at that, as Regulus narrowed his eyes at him.
“Why would I teach you?”
“‘Cuz you’re the best pianist I know,”
Oh. Regulus didn’t know what to say to that.
“Whatever,” He scowled after a second, dragging his eyes off of James and down onto the keys. “Do you even know any other pianists?”
“...Sirius?”
“Sirius is sh*t at the piano,”
“Which really just proves my point,” He grinned lightly. Regulus felt like he could never get used to James’ compliments, his golden energy practically casting a halo around him. Why couldn’t he just get irked like everyone else Regulus insulted? “What are we learning, professor?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Always,” James shrugged, like the word meant nothing. Of course it did. He always had a choice. “We can go back to the party, if you want,”
He knew Regulus wouldn’t. He took a second, squinting at the man next to him. “What do you want to learn?”
“Whatever you’ll teach me. Or you could just play. Or we could just sit here. We’ve got all night,”
He really had to stop throwing out phrases like that.
Regulus decided to ignore the tint of his ears (they were hidden by his curls anyways), and chewed on the inside of his lower lip as he thought. He knew James used to play guitar, but really, how well would that translate to piano? Especially because Regulus didn’t really- Oh. Oh, okay.
“Hands here,” Regulus layed out a g chord easily, something that took James just a little more than a few seconds to replicate on the octave below. Did those glasses even work?
“Now here,” Regulus guided him to an e minor next, and James reciprocated, his fingers barely needing to stretch to reach the keys. And so they plodded along the chord progression, just like that. He’d show James a chord and progress to the next, watching his hands stutter along the keys in a cluttered collection of wrong notes and apologies.
“Ah- sorry, sorry,” James winced as Regulus attempted to show him another chord, his fingers scrunching into fists as he offered a sheepish smile.
Regulus had never seen him like this. The whole world seemed to be James Potter’s comfort zone, yet in this small room, he seemed… different. Earnest, concentrated, hardly the golden boy Regulus had grown up with. It was almost sweet, the way he stumbled along the chord progressions, though Regulus just chalked that up to his own satisfaction of knowing James Potter wasn’t perfect. It made him human, really. Less of the teenage dream that Regulus had built up in his mind, and more real. The idea almost made him laugh.
“What?” James tilted his head, suddenly looking at him with a strange, almost confused smile, his golden eyes searching Regulus’ pale ones.
It took Regulus a second to realize that he’d huffed aloud. “I- Don’t worry about it,”
“Uh huh,”
“I’m serious, Potter,”
“Sure you are,”
Regulus glowered at him. “I am. You suck at piano, by the way,”
“Must be my teacher,” James sucked in his teeth with a jaunty smile. “Y’know, the one who’s stuck in his head all the time?” Just once, Regulus would like James to be bothered by one of his insults.
“I am a fine teacher,” Regulus retorted indignantly.
“Sure you are,” Was he enjoying this? “Should I play Mary Had a Little Lamb again?”
“I just taught you a piece,”
“Yeah, and I think Chopin was rolling in his grave hearing me play it,”
Regulus grit his teeth. God, this man made him mad. “Come here,”
“What?”
“You’re playing this piece, come here,” He shifted closer to him, taking his wrists and placing James’ hands over his own.
If asked at a later date, he wouldn’t be able to say why he did it, only that he was goaded on by an arrogant asshole who had the piano skills of a toddler. But truthfully, it was entirely possible that Regulus had been aching to touch James Potter for so long that if this was how he could manage his skin being on his, so be it.
James looked almost shocked, but followed, fingers skimming Regulus’ as he lined them up just right. Pointers on pointers, pinkies on pinkies, rings on rings, thumbs on thumbs. Even Regulus’ spindly middle finger was dwarfed underneath James’, the cool metal of his ring brushing against pale skin.
“You’re going to follow my hands,” Regulus ordered, deciding that if he faltered for even a second, the fact that James had pressed himself against him to be able to reach his hands would catch up to him, his hair tickling one of Regulus’ ears would suddenly be all too much for him.
James, despite still looking a little surprised, hardly seemed to be having the same issues. “Fine, bossy,” He grinned, having turned his head ever so slightly towards Regulus, and for a split second, he was all too aware of his breath on his cheek.
God, he smelled good.
“I’m not bossy,” Regulus frowned, refusing to look at him.
“Whatever you say,”
“I’m not,” He repeated, placing their hands over the first chord before James could respond. “Shut up, we’re playing,”
That first g chord hardly drowned out James’ low chuckle, and through the filler notes he pressed in with his right hand, Regulus realized he’d only proved his point. f*ck.
His eyes deadset on the keys as he continued, Regulus led him through the progression with practiced ease, James’ hands dipping and brushing against his as he moved.
He heard the small “oh,” as James recognized the tune, breathless and tinged with something Regulus couldn’t think about right now as his fingers twitched against his, setting something alight in Regulus’ stomach. He was full on touching him now, hands no longer gossamer touches but lain fully on his, maneuvering at the barest lift of Regulus’ wrist, the shift of a finger.
The piece was hardly something his mother, or frankly any of the stuffy, rich classical enjoyers he played for would enjoy. It wasn’t Tchaikovsky, or Bach, or, maybe insultingly, not even Chopin himself. John Lennon wasn’t even Regulus’ brand of music, but lately, he found a particular liking to it. Say, just a couple days ago, actually.
He had finished washing the scraped-clean dishes with Effie at the end of the night, the sleeves of his jumper rolled to his elbows and her cozy dress saved from the spray of the sink by a colorful apron. Christmas that year had been out of a picture book, full of glimmering trees, snow-bitten cheeks and laughter and light. Even after years with the Potters, Regulus still found new love for their Christmas, so different from his own family’s.
In his defense, he never would’ve been so soft if he wasn’t a few drinks in. He was just drying off his hands with a spare dish towel as a new song filtered into the room, thanks to the old record player Monty insisted on gracing the house with. Effie had straightened, smiling at Regulus in a knowing kind of way.
“Ah, I used to love this song,” She’d nodded towards the origin of the sound, swaying in some transfixing way.
Regulus had smiled softly at her. “I feel like I should’ve known you were a John Lennon fan by now,” He’d remarked, setting his towel back on the counter. Though Effie Potter was always willing to be one with the music, he’d never seen her have any particular affiliation with John Lennon, or any Beatles for that matter.
“Oh hush, I just haven’t heard it in a while,” She batted at him lightly, a familiar grin across her slightly-smudged lips as she moved towards him. Monty had gifted her a new set of oil paints a few hours before, and now whatever lipstick she was missing could be found across his face. “Come, mijo, dance with me,”
Regulus had let her slip her hands into his, a little shy as they rocked. He’d heard a cheeky story or two about Effie’s talent in movement, but this dance was almost childish, the two a little giddy and a little more drunk as they shuffled across the kitchen tiles. It was nothing like the ballroom dancing he’d grown up with, no, Effie’s dancing was joyous and unpredictable, flowing with the music rather than marching alongside it. She nodded approvingly as Regulus began to lead the way, and they danced lightly throughout a kitchen that still smelled like the duck Monty had roasted that afternoon, and all the herbs on top. Regulus even spun her when he felt giddy enough, his heart swelling for this mother he should’ve had.
“There you go!” She laughed, her dress swinging around her legs as she returned back to facing him, before lifting an arm and beckoning him to do the same. With a chuckle he couldn’t help, he did, ducking under her arm as he did a lazy spin.
As the kitchen whirled across his vision in a blur, Regulus had caught the barest glint of silver and found his heart and feet stuttering as he dropped his hand.
He and Effie had taken their jewelry off to do the dishes.
James Potter stood in the doorway into the kitchen, just… watching. Like he couldn’t stop watching.
His lips had been slightly parted, his hazel eyes holding something Regulus had never seen before, something almost soft. He stood there like it would hurt to breathe, like all that food he and Sirius had shoveled down at dinner had finally caught in his throat, his adam's apple bobbing as he blinked.
All the while gently fiddling with the shining ring Regulus had lightly discarded on a side counter.
“Um- Mama, I-,” Regulus had especially remembered the hint of his tongue as he quickly wet his bottom lip. “Papá tiene otro regalo para ti, he uh- he wanted me to come grab you,”
If Effie noticed the way Regulus had stiffened, or the way her son had been looking at him, she didn’t say anything beyond a glint in her eye. “Ah, él me mima demasiado,” She sighed happily, patting Regulus’ arm lightly. “You got the rest of these?” She pointed her chin at the few dishes left, and Regulus had nodded numbly.
“Well then, until next time, Reggie. It seems Monty’s got some work to do if you’re his competition,” She winked teasingly, and swept out of the room with James on her heels. Leaving Regulus alone in the kitchen with nothing but John Lennon’s Jealous Guy to keep him company.
So even if it wasn’t a liking, no one could blame Regulus for not being able to stop thinking about that song, or the look on James’ face, trying to dissect it, pick apart whatever was behind it, with little success.
Now, he could only look at their overlapped hands, sliding together as the piece filled the firelit room. He doubted James would get the significance of it, and tried to convince himself and his suddenly-tumultuous stomach that he didn’t care. He didn’t know when he’d stiffened against him, but suddenly, Regulus glanced up at him, his mouth dry.
Because James Potter was whistling along to their tune.
The warble flit through the notes they played like the robins that used to nest outside of Regulus’ bedroom, and for a second, James didn’t notice Regulus’ stare, his head bobbing to the slow tune and his eyes on their hands.
But then his eyes flicked up to meet Regulus’, and his eyes widened. “Oh, sorry,”
Regulus frowned, his hands stilling on the keys, and James’ barely shifted off of them before they did the same. “Why are you sorry?”
“Did you not want me to do anything?”
Regulus weighed his answers, opening and closing his mouth once or twice like a f*cking fish. “No,”
“No, you didn’t want me to do anything, or no, you-”
“No, I didn’t mind it,” Regulus bit out, glaring back down at the keys. He didn’t need to look to know that James was grinning.
“So I am musically talented, aren’t I?”
“Not without someone holding your hand,” Regulus scoffed and then realizing that sh*t, they were actually kind of holding hands. His pointer finger twitched, but he didn’t snatch his hands away. And neither did James, to the delight of everything treacherous inside of Regulus.
“Right,” James breathed out a small, beautiful laugh as he looked up at the ceiling, before pausing and meeting Regulus’ eyes, almost bashfully. “...Do you like it?”
“The piano?”
“Mhm,”
Did he like it? Did he like it? Regulus could kiss him. Well, he could always have kissed him, but especially now, with this warm light and smooth piano keys and history and muffled music from down the hall all collecting into one moment, he found his breath had caught in his throat.
He wanted James Potter. Regulus knew that much. It had made a home inside of him, this constant thrum behind his ribcage that went wild as Regulus dared to glance at the slope of his cupid’s bow, the eyelashes dusting his bottom lid. f*ck.
But James was studying him too, breath shallow as he just looked at Regulus, hazel-honey eyes searching for an answer.
Regulus was suddenly all too aware of their line of contact, a wave of heat from James’ thigh pressed against his to the curve of their shoulders, down to James’ hands still laying on his. He could feel the cool metal of James’ intricate ring resting on his middle, and despite himself, twitched underneath it.
“Yeah- yes, I like it,” Regulus breathed against his cheek, beyond certain that the other man could feel his heart racing against him.
“Yeah?” James murmured, his voice like velvet as his gaze flicked down to set on Regulus’ lips. “How much?”
Before Regulus could do something stupid (answer his question, grab him by the tie and kiss him silly, the list goes on), a strong buzz erupted from James’ pocket. The two sprung apart, James jumping to his feet to answer his phone and Regulus gluing his eyes to the yellowing keys as he straightened his tie, face burning.
What the f*ck was that?
“Mama? I- oh sh*t,” James checked his ornate watch hastily, glancing quickly at Regulus. “Yeah, estaremos allí en un segundo,”
A pause.
“Yeah, yeah, bye,”
Hastily shoving his phone in his pocket, James bounced on his heels nervously as he made his way to the door. “We gotta go, it’s like five minutes ‘til midnight,”
His mouth dry, Regulus nodded, following James out the door with half the urgency as the two raced down the hall.
How was he so- so okay? Acting all normal like five minutes ago he wasn’t about to kiss Regulus- he was going to kiss him, right? Or maybe it was Regulus grasping for straws, rose tinted glasses doing nothing but blind him.
“You good?” James looked back at him, and Regulus scowled. He must’ve been breathing harder than he thought.
“Fine,” Whatever locusts were swarming in Regulus’ stomach, they must’ve been tossed and tumbled and ready to come up with that martini the way he was ready to throw up. God, he hated running.
But he ran, and soon the hall opened up to the bright foyer again, guests alight with chatter and chants as Times Square’s ball threatened to drop on a couple flatscreens across the venue. James dove into the crowd without a second thought, and with quite a few of them, Regulus followed.
Despite the amount of people there, Effie managed to find the two in no time at all, a flurry of relief and loving scorn.
“Ah, there you two are! Don’t go sneaking off like that so close to midnight!”
“Ay mama, Reg just couldn’t help himself-” James’ grin only widened as Regulus stomped on his foot (though the yelp omitted did bring him some satisfaction) but it was Effie who reached him first.
“Uh uh, te tengo echado el ojo, chaval,” She poked her son, before widening her eyes. “Grapes! You two need grapes,”
The countdown on the screen was at twenty seconds when a plastic bag of cotton candy grapes were shoved in Regulus and James’ hands, and Effie was whisked away to find her husband.
“Remember that New Year's we went to the actual Times Square?” As the crowd’s countdown chants were growing louder, so did James’ voice as he stepped closer to him.
“Hard to forget, really,”
“You were the only one without a child leash, do you know how embarrassing that is for a ten year old??”
Regulus looked, and the clock read fourteen.
“It was deserved, you two were practically climbing over people to get on the news channel,”
“Listen, we needed our fifteen minutes of fame!”
“You didn’t even get on the channel,”
Regulus catches a glance at the big screen. It reads ten. Ten seconds until the year is over, but James wasn’t counting down with the masses. Instead, he leaned in, and the thought he wanted Regulus, only Regulus hearing him made his spine tingle.
“Ah but we did,” James grinned conspiratorially. “I was on ABC for two whole seconds before Mom yanked me back. I went flying!”
Regulus couldn’t help his lips quirking up at the thought of a ten-year-old leashed James getting jerked out of camera frame in the background of some news broadcast. “I remember that part,” He admitted. “You knocked right into Sirius, Monty had to get you two gelato to make up for the swells on your heads,”
Regulus doesn’t need the clock, the thundering shouts are at seven.
James practically lit up. “Yes! That place near… near that all-silver girl Sirius thought was a statue until she scared him!” He snapped his finger. The shouts are at five. “I think I got the best orange creamsicle gelato I’ve ever had there,”
Three.
Regulus thought about it for a second. “Yeah, I forgot what I-”
“Lemoncillo. ‘Cuz it’s your favorite,”
Regulus went still, his heart beating his throat.
Two.
“Didn’t know you knew that,”
One.
“I’d never not know you, Regulus,”
The year ended with Regulus jerking away, caught between breaths.
A new one began with James breaking into a softly crooked grin.
All around them, people were cheering, hugging, kissing, a whirlwind of movement. And Regulus could only look at James and that stupid, stupid grin.
Until James jumped, reaching forward for the bag of grapes and opening it feverishly. “sh*t, the grapes!”
Regulus cursed as he dipped his hand into the bag as well, grabbing as many of the sweet fruits as he could and shoving them in his mouth, frantically counting as he crushed each one.
He knocked hands with James as his hand dove back into the bag, exclaiming as he swallowed at the pain from the bump of his ulna. Ignoring the other man’s scrabbling fingers, he swiped the last grapes he needed and popped them in his mouth as fast as he could.
Tradition or not, he hated looking like a messy eater.
James seemed to be having no such problem, laughing between grapes when Regulus looked up.
He was shaking the wrist he’d bumped along to the bass of the music, his eyes bright behind those gold-rimmed glasses. He looked so ridiculous, mouth open, empty-bag in hand, that Regulus couldn’t help but smile as his jaw worked.
A small line of grape juice escaped from James’ mouth, and where it trailed down his chin and followed the line of his jaw, Regulus’ eyes did also, the traitorous f*cks.
He wanted to lick that droplet right off of his skin.
As he swallowed his final grapes, James swiped at the droplet, and Regulus looked away, clearing his throat.
Which, in hindsight, was a horrible idea with a mouthful of grapes.
Nothing agreed with him, and Regulus’ elbow rushed to his mouth as he choked, coughing heatedly in the cheery din. Chuckling, James reached out to hold him steady, but Regulus batted him off.
“Fine,” He choked out, lungs on fire.
“You sure?” James asked, his features starting to tinge with worry as he leaned in. Is there anything I can-”
“No,” Regulus shook his head, a hand on his chest as he took a few steps away from James. “I’ll-” He heaved in a sensitive breath, one that was let out in a vicious coughing fit. “I’ll be back,”
Ignoring whatever concerns James most definitely would’ve had, Regulus slid back into the crowd, trying to remain poised as he made his way to the bar. Which turned out to be a challenging feat when he was trying not to hack a lung out.
Evan already had a glass of water and a raised eyebrow ready for him when he reached the bar.
“Everything okay?”
Regulus nodded stiffly as he downed the glass, relaxing his throat with a practiced ease. He only looked back up at Evan when he could breathe again.
“New years thing,”
“Ah,” Evan tilted his head as he took the glass back, absently spinning it between his hands and pretended not to notice the water in Regulus’ eyes. “Isn’t it like, bad luck to not eat your grapes as fast as you can?”
“I’ve never really been a lucky person to begin with,” Regulus eyed Evan. “But sure, I suppose,”
“So what, it just cancels out?” Despite this space of thrumming music and bass felt through floors, there was a quiet humor to him, a small squint of his eye and quirk to his lips that Regulus found oddly comforting. This, like most things, disturbed him.
“One would hope,”
“I mean, you haven’t felt a little bit lucky lately?”
Had he?
Maybe that’s what that night had been, luck.
Maybe it was luck that Chopin’s piano had been in the building, luck that James stumbled upon it, luck that he thought of Regulus.
Nodding absently to Evan, Regulus shifted in his chair, glancing over his shoulder.
Since the arrival of the new year, the lights had been dimmed, but nothing stopped James Potter from glowing like his own sun. Regulus supposed that was part of his appeal, the way that James just attracted gazes without even realizing it. One didn’t even have to be looking for him to find him.
And as soon as Regulus saw him, he almost wished he hadn’t.
He was certainly his mother’s son, alight with movement as he danced. It was beautiful, the way his hips swayed, his hands flitted. He was beautiful. Regulus had to give him that, at least.
He would give no leniency, however, to the girl he was grinding on.
Regulus could do nothing but stare as the two moved, twin silks as they intertwined.
Could do nothing as his throat swelled, his fingers clenched. Her hand was on his chest, on his neck, his in her hair, on her thigh, creeping up. Hands that had rested on his what, not twenty minutes ago? Were now toying with the hem of this girl’s dress, tracing lines on her glowing skin.
He could do absolutely f*cking nothing as James grinned, leaning in to- to what? Tell her they’d have all night, that they could do whatever she wanted, that- that he knew her?. Would always know her?
“Nice to meet you, Evan,” Regulus managed through a set jaw as he tore his gaze away from the pair.
He should’ve gotten out of this f*cking place a long time ago.
This time, he didn’t bother to excuse himself, didn’t care if he shoulder-checked a coursing body aside to clear his path. He was at the door in minutes, barely giving the room a knock before barging in, snatching his coat off of the hook, and promptly leaving again. Barty nowhere to be found, oddly enough.
Unfortunately, Regulus had been kind of banking on that, as Barty was his ride home.
With Dorcas nowhere to be found as well, Regulus found himself stalling by the door, practically biting through his bottom lip in an attempt to somehow distract him from the sinkhole in his stomach.
He couldn’t be here. Not when his gaze kept drawing back to James and- and that girl, hips rutting together to the rhythm of the bass Regulus was feeling through the floorboards. He shifted where he stood, a valet boy eyeing him from outside the doors. Regulus glared at him. Fine then. He’d walk.
He was just outside, adjusting the sleeves of his coat he’d shoved on seconds before and checking inside in case Barty was flitting out for a smoke, when his own name being called made him turn.
Marcus was waving at him from the bottom of the wide-set stairs that lead to the valet circle, his smile sweet as Regulus descended the stairs to meet him. Thank god for Marcus.
“Did you drive here,” Regulus didn’t have the patience or honestly, the f*cking temperment to play coy or tease Marcus. At that moment, he just needed to get James’ languid form out of his mind, and as far away from him as possible.
“Yeah, my porsche is in the garage,”
“Could you take me home?”
Marcus chuckled, though Regulus didn’t really know what was that funny. “I mean, the night is young, if you still wanna-”
“Marcus. I want to go home,”
It didn’t take Marcus more than seconds to sober up after receiving Regulus’ frigid tone. “Yeah- yes, of course,”
He snapped for the valet, and the gleaming car sat in front of them in mere minutes, a uniformed boy tossing Marcus the keys.
The two took off with Regulus in the passenger seat, numbly twisting the silver ring on his pointer. The same ring that James had been twirling through his fingers that Christmas night.
Regulus wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten it back, whether James had set it on the kitchen counter as he followed his mother out or if he’d slipped it in his pocket when Regulus wasn’t paying attention. For all the sharpness his memory held, he found that the possession of his ring wasn’t exactly his main focus on that snowy evening.
“Regulus?” Marcus kept his eyes on the road, but extended a gentle hand to rest on Regulus’ forearm, quieting his fidgeting. “Where am I going?”
Cursing himself for being so stupid, Regulus gave him the address to his apartment, and was silently grateful at how close it was. The less time Marcus had to prod, the better.
“Is everything okay?”
Regulus bit back an ugly quip about being interrogated. “Fine,”
A pause.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes Marcus, I’m sure,”
“Okay,”
The car balked at a stoplight, and Regulus shifted away from Marcus’ touch, shooting a quick text to Barty and Dorcas to let them know that he’d left.
His anger was turning bitter by the second, rotting in his stomach, his jaw, his throat as he seethed. Barely able to blink without seeing James behind his eyelids, Regulus found that he was fisting the edge of his coat, knuckles a stark white in contrast to the black wool. Swallowing back bile, he relaxed his fingers, smoothing out the scrunched fabric.
He could be angry at home.
His phone buzzed, interrupting his internal rampaging, and Regulus checked the notifications with a grimace from the sudden brightness.
Dorcas:
everything ok ?
Barty:
SHOUDL BE
CUZ DID I SEE YOU DNAICING WIHT JAMES POTTER???
offt opic but guys i think this bartender wants me
Dorcas:
with love, shut up barty
reg ?
It took Regulus a second to realize what she was asking, and another to type out that yes, he was okay, yes, he’d tell them later, and no, he hadn’t been f*cking dancing with James Potter.
The car slowed to a stop as he turned his phone off, purring as Marcus pulled it into a vacant spot next to the curb. Regulus rested a hand on the door handle, but paused before opening it.
He was about to be home.
He was about to be home, which meant this night was over.
Which meant this night was real.
“This you?” Regulus didn’t need light to tell that Marcus’ features were marred with worry; It leaked into his voice, making his hand closest to Regulus twitch, as though he wanted to reach out for him.
“Yeah,”
“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to talk about it? I mean, no pressure, or anything, if you don’t, but-”
“No, I’m good,”
And Regulus’ intuition was right, because Marcus did reach out and place his hand over Regulus’ pale one, and Regulus was struck with how similar his hands were.
One gold ring and he might’ve been able to pretend like they were the hands that had been on his not an hour before.
“Okay, is there anything I can do?” In the dim light of a street lamp outside, Regulus could vaguely make out Marcus’ chocolate eyes searching his gray ones, and tried to pretend like he wasn’t as stiff as a board.
He almost jumped when his phone buzzed, lighting up on the leather seat, and quickly glanced at it, expecting it to still be Dorcas and Barty on his whereabouts or what he was doing.
But this was not Dorcas or Barty.
James Potter
New Message.
Something in Regulus’ throat twisted.
Who the f*ck did he think he was? Blowing Regulus off for some girl and now texting him? Like everything was still fine, like Regulus would turn around and run back to him, joke and argue and help his dumbass play John Lennon on the piano of all pianos?
As much as that bartender was joking, he was probably right. That time he had spent with James was pure luck, luck that he had been misinterpreting. Or worse, he’d been toying with him on purpose, another joke, another bit, another prank.
And f*ck Regulus for falling for it, for believing for a second that Potter was some brand of gay, let alone into him. f*ck Regulus for wanting him in the first place, now yearning to cut that ache behind his ribcage out with a meat cleaver. For thinking he’d want him back, thinking that James Potter felt even a fraction of the need that hummed in Regulus’ gut every time he was near.
“Regulus?”
“What?” He snapped his eyes back to Marcus’, who’d ducked his head to meet them.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?”
And oh, how sweet Marcus was.
He was nothing like James, no curls, no glasses, no noticing eyes.
But maybe that was what Regulus needed.
“Kiss me?” He hadn’t meant it so much as a question, but his voice was getting rougher by the second, whether by want or guilt or anger or the lump in his throat.
Marcus exhaled as he leaned in, before pausing with a hand on Regulus’ shoulder. “Listen, are you sure you want to do this? I mean, you seem to be kind of vulnerable right now, and I don’t want to-”
“Shut up, Marcus,” Regulus grabbed him by the collar as he bristled, kissing him with enough force that would hopefully convince the other man that he wasn’t f*cking vulnerable.
Marcus tasted like the shot he’d downed for confidence and also like an overall lack of it as he slid his hands down to Regulus’ waist in an effort to keep him in place even as Regulus tried to pick up the pace.
He had no hair to grab onto, no glasses to push up, nothing like the kisses Regulus had dreamed of when he was younger, but Regulus tried to tell himself and the empty space between his ribs that this was a good thing.
He needed someone like Marcus, remember?
Didn’t matter what he wanted, it mattered what he needed.
What he wanted wasn’t in the front seat of this car, wasn’t kissing him as he opened the door to his apartment, and certainly wasn’t undressing him with gossamer touches and following with velvet lips.
No, who he wanted didn’t care about Regulus at all.
Not one bit.
