Chapter Text
One thing about Regulus Black was that he liked knowing what was going on in advance, and he loathed things being sprung on him. He simply wasn’t a ‘change of plans’ sort of man, and he couldn’t understand anyone who was. There was no flow he was going with, the flow went with him. Schedules and warnings were of utmost importance, and he thought that was perfectly reasonable, thank you very much.
All of that contributed to the fact that, on an unseasonably sunny September morning, Regulus found himself less than impressed. Actually, he was keen to know what sick and twisted higher power had put him in this situation- where he was bombarded in the staff room by the principal, with no way to avoid her. Naturally, she was here to change his plans with no prior warning. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t in support.
“-As you know, the start of term means new students, but it also means new Professors. Each of them is to be paired with someone who’s worked here for a while until they get their bearings. It’s a big school, and to be frank, I don’t have the hours in the day to help with every little question.” Minerva explained, clearly not concerned in the slightest about the grimace that was overtaking Regulus’s face. She had that slightly pinched look she tended to get when she expected an argument, her eyes already narrowed in preparation for Regulus’s inevitable rebuttal.
Surely she didn’t genuinely think this was a good idea? It wasn’t as if Regulus was known for being friendly or, heaven forbid, welcoming. He was just unlucky enough to have had his name drawn out of a hat he hadn’t even been aware it was placed in. Did this count as cruelty in the workplace? It felt like it.
As Minerva, the executive head of the university of London, prattled on about ‘forming good staff relationships with the newcomers, Regulus could see Remus on a table in the far corner. As usual, he had a to-go coffee cup that Regulus would bet his life savings contained hot chocolate on the table in front of him. The little shit was snickering behind his hand at Regulus’s turmoil, eyes bright with amusement. The glare Regulus sent his friend only made him laugh more, which wasn’t the desired outcome.
“Look, Minerva,” Regulus cut in, halting a speech about ‘bonding amongst colleagues’. The way Minerva pursed her lips made it clear she’d been expecting an interruption at some point, and who was Regulus to deny her that? “Respectfully, I’m really not convinced you’re looking at the right man for this.” There was a great deal of mutual appreciation and respect between Regulus and Minerva- he appreciated her no bullshit approach, and she appreciated that one of the best literary minds in the country worked for her- but that didn’t change the fact that Regulus was acutely aware he was the worst man for this job. “I’ve got classes to teach, I don’t have the time to-”
“Everyone here has classes to teach, Professor Black.” Minerva replied calmly, cutting Regulus off much in the way he’d just done to her. As it turned out, he wasn’t too much of a fan unless he was the one speaking over others. “You’re not the only one who’s going to be helping a new professor. Plus, you’ve always been capable of managing your workload, haven’t you? Consider this as a minor thing on the top.”
Regulus huffed quietly, shifting his briefcase in his hand as he thought of the most professional way to say piss off and leave me alone. “While I understand that-”
“Besides,” She bulldozed on, much to his growing dismay, “Isn’t that how you and Professor Lupin met? And you two have become friends both in and out of the workplace.” She reasoned. Behind her, Remus mouthed the words ‘best friends!’ with a grin that had Regulus deciding he was going to egg Lupin’s house and blame it on students. What was even more unfortunate than the suggestion of having to look after a new professor was the fact that Minerva was right.
When Regulus had started his role as an English literature professor two years previous, it was Remus who he’d been paired with. Remus was an ethics and philosophy professor in pursuit of the answers to the universe, which he was convinced hid somewhere in old books written by people who were mostly dead. Naturally, Regulus had found it ridiculous, which had led to the tour Remus was meant to have given him becoming a heated debate on Kantianism. Regulus remembered nothing about the location of his own office, but remembered the fire in Lupin’s amber eyes when he had gotten riled up. There was a mutual understanding there that had felt natural, exciting, challenging. The next day, Regulus had arrived at Remus’s office with a new counter argument, and they’d spoken every day since. Granted, their conversations had quickly left the realm of philosophy, but the connection they’d found didn’t falter. Two great minds that went against each other for jollies, eventually morphing into a friendship so deep that nothing could rattle it.
There was a beat of silence before Regulus sighed in defeat, resenting the way Minerva smiled like she had already known he was going to give in eventually. The woman was bloody brilliant, and Regulus thought she could do well with a day off from it. “I’m not happy about it.” He grumbled, watching Minverva’s hand flap in the air as if dismissing his complaints, waving them away like pests in the summer.
“You don’t have to be.” She replied, voice as even as ever. There was something to be said about how utterly unshakable she was, even if it wasn’t working in Regulus’s favour that morning. “Professor Potter seems plenty happy enough for the both of you.”
… Oh. Oh, absolutely fucking not.
Regulus tensed so hard there could’ve been a gun to his head, which in a way, there was. A gun containing a past he had tried so very hard to free himself from. Suddenly, he was staring down the barrel of his youth, and Minerva’s trigger finger was ready to cripple him with a well-aimed shot of memories.
“Sorry, Professor what?” Regulus asked quietly, his ribs constricting so hard he was surprised he didn’t hear a crack. Surely not, right? Surely she didn’t mean that Potter? There was absolutely no way that she was talking about the Potter who Regulus had successfully managed to avoid for the past twelve years running, because he had no intention of breaking that streak-
“Professor Potter, or James.” Minerva ever-so-helpfully specified as Regulus began considering the quickest route to launching himself out of the window. Was it healthy that his lungs felt like they were inverted? It was clear his face gave something away, which was a rarity in itself, as Minerva’s brows shifted together. “You know each other?”
Regulus opened his mouth to announce his resignation, effective immediately, but shut it with an audible click as footsteps that were just a little too loud sounded from behind him.
“Minerva! Hi!” A voice, one Regulus distantly remembered, filled the now suffocatingly silent staff room. Deeper now than it had been then, but still just as familiar as if Regulus had heard it yesterday. As if he could help, Regulus locked eyes with Remus, who was watching with a mouth halfway to open. If only the ground could open up and swallow them all whole. James fucking Potter. What could Regulus have possibly done in his life to give him karma this bad? “Sorry if I’m a little late, I stopped at a bakery on the way to get croissants for everyone! I hope I got enough-”
Regulus turned slowly, a measured movement that decidedly didn’t reflect the absolute war raging inside of him, and there he was. Taller, broader, but still the same in the most awful, horrible way. Dark skin, darker curls, stupid fucking god-forsaken glasses that Regulus had the strongest urge to snap in half before kicking him down the stairs. James Potter, holding a box of croissants and acting like he was allowed to be here when Regulus most certainly thought he was not.
There was a flicker of satisfaction from deep within Regulus at the look of shock on James’s face, the way his hands briefly let the box in them slip before he came back to himself, catching the croissants before they fell. Regulus wanted them to fall. He wanted to stomp on them until they were permanently stuck to the linoleum floor before doing the same to the man who had bought them.
“Regulus?” James asked, his voice more of an odd squeak than anything that could be considered normal. Despite the vague feeling of bile threatening to come up his throat, Regulus did what he does best, raising a dark brow in the most unimpressed look he could muster. Oh, how he hoped the feigned indifference would hurt.
“Well spotted.” He spoke slowly, pointedly schooling his expression into something best described as bored. It was almost bothersomely difficult to act unruffled, but he managed it just fine, and silently thanked years of having a resting bitch-face for helping him pull it off. James had changed in the most unfair way- he’d aged like a goddamn fine wine- but Regulus knew he had, too. He also knew that James wouldn’t have cared either way, because no matter how old or attractive Regulus was, he was still a bloke.
James was gaping at him like a fish, a mercifully bad look, spluttering like he didn’t know what to say for at least ten seconds before he managed to come up with something.
“Croissant?” He offered weakly, holding the box in Regulus’s direction. His eyes didn’t leave James’s as he replied, his voice a dull, cold sound that echoed through the suffocatingly quiet room.
“No.”
“Well,” Minerva said smoothly, ignoring the tension as James pulled the box of pastries back, wrapping both arms around the cardboard as if it were his child, cradling croissants against his chest with a little too much force. The box crinkled beneath a grip too strong as both Regulus and James stared at each other- Regulus with eyes of vicious, piercing grey and James with wide, terrified brown. “If you want to follow me, Professor Potter, we’ll go to the front desk and get your logins for the school’s computers. Afterwards, Professor Black will give you the tour.”
Either she didn’t notice the discomfort between the men, or she didn’t care. Regulus was certain it was the second one as Minerva ushered James, who was now clinging to the croissants like they were wounded, from the room. He glanced over his shoulder at Regulus with a look that was best described as gormless, eyes wide and panicked like a deer in headlights. Regulus remembered those eyes. Regulus hated those eyes. Regulus wanted to find the nearest pointy utensil and poke those eyes out.
As soon as they left, Regulus went to the table Remus was occupying in an almost dreamlike state, sinking into the chair opposite where Remus sipped his hot chocolate. For a few blissful moments, nothing felt real. This was a horrible nightmare and Regulus was going to wake up and continue a joyfully Potter-free life.
“So…” Remus started, dragging out the ‘o’ sound, unintentionally acting as the catalyst for reality setting in. Upon realising the events of thirty seconds previous weren’t a bad fever dream, Regulus put his forearms on the table and buried his face in them as if he could hide from the entire world. “That was the guy, huh?”
The sound Regulus let out was somewhere between a groan and a scream, Remus winced. Over the course of their friendship, he’d heard all the stories of the past, and shared enough of his own that they were pretty much even in terms of trauma dumping. Granted, Regulus had likely contributed to Remus’s trauma through subjecting him to his worse episodes, but Remus had never complained.
“Yeah, that was the guy. Any other stupid fucking questions you already know the answer to?” Regulus snapped, unfiltered and unapologetic. He’d feel bad about snapping at Remus later, but at that moment? It was quite literally the least of his concerns.
“Touchy.” Remus spoke lowly, not withering under the glare Regulus had so kindly lifted his head to give. It was a sign that they were too close, that Remus didn’t even blink under Regulus’s angrier expressions. Remus sighed, tilting his head as if figuring out how to navigate the conversation. “Look, I know it’s not ideal-”
“Not ideal?” Regulus parroted incredulously, his voice a half-octave higher than normal. “My first-gay-crush turned first-gay-heartbreak turned brother-stealer shows up as a new colleague after I’ve avoided him for twelve years on the trot, and you think it’s ‘not ideal’? Well shit, Professor, let me sit in on a class sometime! Your unique viewpoint is simply astounding.”
Remus snorted, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. There was always something funny to him about Regulus throwing a fit. “It’s been a decade. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” When Regulus’s expression didn’t falter, Remus sighed, his shoulders drooping. “Okay, maybe fine is a stretch, but you’re both adults now. The past is the past, right?”
Regulus let out a sharp laugh for all of three seconds before abruptly stopping. “No, actually. The past was just stood in the staff room offering me a fucking croissant.” He retorted, sitting up properly to run his hands over his face. “After fucking with my head when I was like, thirteen, and then taking my brother out of my life, I’d argue the past has a lot to answer for.”
“Well,” Remus offered in the voice that told Regulus he was about to say something entirely useless, “Socrates believed that virtue is knowledge, which is to say that wrongdoing stems from ignorance. Maybe James didn’t realise how much of a negative impact he had, so wasn’t aware that it was something he should’ve corrected?”
“This is why everyone hates moral philosophy professors.” Regulus murmured, internally cursing his own choice in company. He loved Remus more than life itself, but could occasionally do without his friends’ penchant for quoting philosophers.
“I’m just saying,” Remus continued, undeterred by the insult, “If he’s right in saying wisdom comes from acknowledging one's own ignorance, maybe James has done that at some point in the past decade? It’s not like you know what he’s like now. The last time you saw him, he was fifteen.”
“He was a cunt.” Regulus shot back, stating it much in the same way he’d share a fact in one of his lectures. “And if Socrates were here, I’m sure he’d agree that James is still a cunt now.”
Remus shook his head, muttering an “I’m sure he wouldn’t” as Regulus stood from the table to pace the room, his shoes squeaking on the floor every time he hit the end of the invisible line he’d created in his head and spun around to restart it. There was too much going on, too many feelings that he’d been optimistic enough to believe he wouldn’t have to deal with again. It was normally hard to overwhelm him, but all it took was being in the same room as James for thirty seconds, and suddenly he was drowning.
James Potter had been around a lot when he was younger, thanks to the fact that he was best friends with Sirius. It wasn’t that Regulus had inherently minded his brother making a best friend, because he hadn’t. Regulus had always known that Sirius would be the better-liked brother, and after a long period of being angsty over it, he’d grown to accept it. Besides, Regulus excelled academically in every place Sirius hadn’t, so at least he had something to be proud of.
What he hadn’t been a fan of was the feelings he had gotten when James would come over, or when Sirius would occasionally drag Regulus round to James’s. The way his little palms had gotten sweaty- sweatier than they naturally were for a teenage boy- and how his heart would make his chest feel funny in a way he hadn’t really understood at the time. The unfamiliar and unwelcome and all consuming want to be seen planted itself in his young mind and refused to be uprooted, no matter how many times he tried to trick himself into believing he didn’t care about James’s opinion of him- it was almost all he had thought about.
Despite wanting it constantly, Regulus hadn’t liked how his face would get uncomfortably hot when James looked at it for too long, and especially hadn’t liked that the realisation that he was gay hit him with the force of a truck when James laughed at one of his jokes so hard he had gripped Regulus’s shoulder to keep from sliding off of the couch. Something about it- loud and boisterous and joyful and bright- had made something inside of Regulus click in a way that he spent the entire night staring at his bedroom ceiling thinking about.
Even then, he knew it wasn’t James’s fault that he was gay, it had just been James who abruptly and carelessly brought it to attention. Maybe if it weren’t for James, Regulus could’ve avoided a full blown identity crisis at the tender age of thirteen. Then again, he supposed he’d have had to have it at some point, but shit, couldn’t James have waited a few years before dumping that on him? It was rude, unthoughtful, and Regulus hadn’t even had it in him to be mad about it. Not when James- older and cooler and pretty and lovely James- had been the cause.
No, he couldn’t blame James for causing his entire sexuality, as much as Regulus enjoyed putting James on the proverbial chopping block for everything that went wrong with his life. However, he could and would blame James for taking his first kiss, and in the very same evening, being his first heartbreak. Actually, he became exceedingly good at blaming James for most things over the years that had followed that night, even if it technically had nothing to do with the man.
Because, when it came down to it, everything was James Potter’s fault.
—-
It was Sirius’s fifteenth birthday, and in a rare show of half-decency, Orion and Walburga had let him have a few friends over for a sleepover. It had been the first and last time it would happen, and they only allowed it because they weren’t in the house at all, since heaven forbid they have to deal with outsiders' children in their home- they barely tolerated their own. They had gone to France, where the boys had been raised for most of their childhoods, and left Sirius and Regulus alone in the manor.
Not incredible parenting by anyone's standards, having a newly fifteen year old look after his thirteen year old little brother for a week and a half while they swanned about a country house, but neither child was particularly fussed. Regulus was actually pretty sure Sirius preferred it when their parents were away, even though it left the older boy with dinner duty.
It meant Sirius got to have his school mates over in an empty house, which was simply indescribably cool at the time. No adults? No supervision? No one to tell him ‘no’? Sirius was having the absolute time of his life, Regulus knew it. For his own part, Regulus mostly went about business as usual- homework, reading, scribbling poems that he’d later deem awful into his notebook- though it meant he and Sirius didn’t need to whisper when they snuck on to the roof to stargaze.
It was something they did semi-regularly, since it gave them the chance to talk without Walburga and Orion separating them so that Regulus could ‘focus on his studies’. Ridiculous, really, given that he was barely a teenager, but they’d already considered Sirius a write-off, by that point. To get their brother-time, Regulus would sneak into Sirius’s room under the cover of night, where the two would carefully slide Sirius’s window up before crawling through, sitting on the slanted roof just beyond the windowsill. It was usually freezing, so they’d yank the duvet from Sirius’s bed and huddle beneath it, talking about anything that came to mind.
Regulus looked forward to it every single time- he was sorely lacking in the ‘friends’ department, so he’d take what he could get, even if he was aware that Sirius was likely doing it out of guilt. Probably noticed that his little brother was lonely and took pity, was Regulus’s thoughts, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Sirius had friends- loads, actually- so Regulus would revel in however much of his brothers’ attention he could get.
Terribly sad, if he thought about it too deeply, so he tended to not think about it at all.
Not thinking about his own reputation as a loner was made considerably more challenging by Sirius’s aforementioned friends filling the house, chattering loudly and laughing louder still. James, who Regulus had obviously met, Peter, who was only there because he was James’s mate, and a few girls Regulus hadn’t met before were set up in their living room like it was a camping site. The floor was littered with pillows, blankets and sleeping bags, as well as an errant sock- made even more confusing by the fact that everyone seemed to be wearing two.
Alcohol had been involved, though it had only been a singular bottle of vodka that their cousin, Andromeda, had reluctantly given Sirius as a birthday present. It smelled like nail polish remover, and Regulus would know, because whenever Orion and Walburga were away Sirius asked him for assistance in painting his nails black. Obviously it had to come off when their parents returned, but painting them was usually fun, although it was mostly Regulus snapping when Sirius would move and end up with a black streak down his finger.
The smell of the vodka alone made his nose scrunch, but Regulus didn’t mind enough to leave the party. Besides, he wasn’t actually near the alcohol, since he wasn’t allowed any. Sirius had quite vehemently banned it, to which Regulus had shrugged and stolen some of the pepsi they had been using as a mixer. One of the girls had called him ‘adorable’, which he’d found rather patronising, but bit his tongue so as to not ruin Sirius’s fun.
That didn’t stop anyone else from partying on, and at just past midnight, everyone other than Regulus was happily tipsy or drunk. There was some ginger girl who James was making eyes at, which Regulus rather pointedly didn’t pay attention to. Maybe if he went ginger? No. Even if he was ginger, he was quite sure he wouldn’t have been James’s type for a myriad of other reasons. Primarily the lack of boobs, if he had to guess.
The great gay realization had only hit him a month earlier, and he was doing absolutely everything in his power to avoid acknowledging it- something that was made all the more difficult when spin the bottle was suggested by some overly rambunctious blonde girl with heavy black eyeliner.
Now, Regulus was perfectly aware that ignoring the fact he was gay wouldn’t un-gay him, but he was certainly trying to pay it as little mind as possible. There was no one in the family who he could turn to and say hello, I’m a raging homosexual, how’s best to deal with this? So actually, he had little to no clue how to handle it. The result of bringing it up at the dinner table would be getting kicked out, so he supposed he’d just have to repress it until he was old enough to leave. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard, right?
Fifteen minutes passed, and the game was going about as well as expected, even if Regulus wasn’t even technically playing. While the others had gathered cross legged in a circle on the carpet, spinning a now mostly empty bottle of vodka, Regulus was sprawled on the couch with his nintendo DS in his hands. He liked it like this- present without actually having to participate, content to ignore the hooting of the older kids in the room in favour of absolutely crushing on Mario Kart.
Technically, the DS had been Sirius’s, but it had ended up with Regulus eventually. When Sirius had failed his third exam in a row, it had been taken off of him and given to his little brother. Walburga and Orion probably thought it would’ve been a worse punishment than just throwing it out by giving it to Regulus, letting Sirius be around what he wanted without actually being able to have it, but Sirius hadn’t been too bothered. Actually, Regulus had tried to give it back, but Sirius had insisted he kept it, saying Regulus was better at it anyway.
Regardless, Regulus was fully focused on the console in his hands. Well, at least he was, until it was his name being squawked by the group. Pausing his race, his eyes flicked up to see the bottle pointed at him through the slim gap between where Sirius and Peter were sat. Sirius’s eyes widened in what could only be described as alarm as his head started shaking like it was attached by a spring. The incoming meltdown was palpable, and Regulus had little interest in it.
“It’s the rules!” The ginger girl, Regulus was semi-sure her name was Lily, said in a sing-song voice. Lily was pretty. And she was kind- she’d said hello to him earlier, and it hadn’t been patronising. It was the definition of adding insult to injury that James’s crush on her made logical sense, so Regulus hated her on principle. “The bottle’s clearly on Regulus.”
“Yeah!” The loud blonde added in a shout, and Regulus couldn’t recall her name, but didn’t think he cared to regardless. “The bottle’s on baby Black, whether you like it or not!” He scoffed at the nickname, but no one could hear the noise over Sirius’s protests as they started, rapidly increasing in volume and resulting in a bickering match quickly breaking out. Regulus didn’t drop the nintendo as he sat up properly, mostly to get a better look. Sirius’s meltdowns about defending him were boring- he’d heard it all before- but a group bickering session? Pass him the popcorn.
“No, no, nope. It’s not happening. I won’t allow it.” Sirius stated like his word was law, which to Regulus, it sort of was. Sirius pointed, Regulus went. Sirius ordered, Regulus did. Sirius said no, Regulus stopped. The rest of the group seemed to disagree, but Sirius wasn’t any of their de-facto caretakers, so they had the right to fight where Regulus didn’t. “No one is kissing my little brother. I’ll legally be obligated to throw myself off the balcony if anyone tries- and it’s my birthday, so you have to listen to me.”
“But it’s the rules!” Mary- Regulus had liked her enough to remember her name- protested. “I had to kiss Pete, for goodness sake!” She cringed at her own wording, quickly making the addition of “No offence, Pete.”
“None taken?” Peter replied, though it was definitely more of a question than anything. Mary had the decency to look apologetic, quietening down for the rest of the conversation in shame.
“So? Regulus isn’t even playing!” Sirius replied defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting to close the gap between him and Peter, cutting off the bottle that was aiming for his little brother. Upon realising this wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, Regulus unpaused his game and went back to his race, zoning back in on the DS instead. Sirius would likely argue the toss until the others acquiesced by initiating some good old fashioned Black family stubbornness, so Regulus could be confident that nothing would come of the situation.
“The bottle pointed at him!”
“It’s the rules-”
“The rules don’t apply to Reggie!”
“Oh, for fucks sake!” James finally yelled, standing up from the circle and crossing the room in surprisingly few steps, given the size of the space. Regulus wasn’t even aware of it until there was a warm hand on his jaw tilting his head back and a boy right in front of him, and the next thing he heard was the thud of his DS hitting the carpet as James Potter brought their mouths together.
It was sudden- so sudden that Regulus stilled completely for a moment before his brain caught up, and then he was kissing back so deeply that he could’ve sworn James’s breath hitched. After all, chances like this didn’t come around every day, and who was Regulus to waste the opportunity he had been presented with? That would’ve been outright rude, so instead, he kissed James like his life depended on it.
There was a hint of vodka, or at least that’s what Regulus assumed that taste was, but he didn’t mind it at all. Turns out, the taste wasn’t as bad as the smell, judging by James’s tongue on his- James’s tongue was in his mouth. The sight was probably Sirius’s worst nightmare come true, but Regulus couldn’t have cared less if he’d tried. Actually, Regulus was having a pretty fucking wonderful time, thanks for asking. The shrieking sound Sirius was making sounded like it was miles away as James, with an amount of skill Regulus probably shouldn’t have found so surprising, melded their lips together. It was no little peck, that’s for certain, and if the hollering from Peter and the girls was anything to go by, it was quite a sight. It was quite a feeling, one that Regulus didn’t particularly want to stop, if that was alright with everyone else.
When James pulled back, he did so by only an inch, and Regulus had to go to battle with himself to not close the gap again. So very close, painfully close, that one tilt of a head would bring them together again. Was James still in Regulus’s personal space because he was reluctant to leave it? Regulus hoped so, regardless of how unlikely it was, because he was quite sure that he could kiss James forever and never get bored.
“You made me lose my race.” Was all Regulus could come up with to share, his voice a mere whisper as he felt his spine tingle when James’s breath hit his lips as he chuckled. All the time, please. That. All of the time forever thank you.
“Sorry, mate. Had to give the girls a show, didn’t I?” He replied quietly, clapping Regulus on the shoulder as if he’d done a bang-up job of playing along before heading back to his place in the circle without so much as a glance back. Predictably, Sirius immediately launched himself at James and wrestled him to the ground while yelling about his little brother’s ‘honour’. The girls laughed, Peter laughed, James laughed. Regulus did not laugh. Actually, he didn’t find it amusing at all. Suddenly, nothing was funny and kissing was terrible because it hadn’t actually been kissing- it was a game. Regulus knew that, and yet he’d been foolish enough to forget- too wrapped up in James to remember that it was fake.
He used the chaos of the fighting to his advantage and grabbed his DS from the floor, sliding it into his back pocket and slipping from the living room into the hall. As he speed walked to the kitchen he covered his mouth with his palm, feeling that his skin had heated up around where James’s lips had been. At that moment, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to wash any and all remnants of James off of his mouth and jaw, or press against his mouth where their lips had locked in an effort to burn it into his body forever.
James kissing him had been… magical. Real magic. The kind of kiss that had stopped Regulus’s little heart at the same time as kickstarting it faster than it should ever healthily be able to go. He wanted that feeling again, wanted to keep it and have it and feel it every single day. Wanted to trick himself into forgetting that he had experienced the first kiss of his life because of a stupid game at his stupid brother’s birthday party. But that was the issue, wasn’t it?
It was just a game. James Potter would never actually want to kiss Regulus Black. He had only done it to get a reaction from the girls, namely Lily. Probably to wind Sirius up a bit, too, because James regularly partook in that like it was a sport and he was the world champion. James Potter had gotten everything he wanted from the interaction, while Regulus had only had everything he wanted right in front of him, all over him for a moment, before having it taken away.
“Reg?” A voice came from down the hall, snapping Regulus out of whatever quietly devastating trance he’d been in while staring at the closed fridge as if it held answers to any of his problems. In a flash, he was grabbing a glass from the cupboard and was at the sink filling it with water, figuring that was a better thing to walk in on than a thirteen year old boy having a full blown gay crisis. James peeked around the kitchen door, stepping in when he saw that this was where Regulus had gone. There was an awkward look on his face, and Regulus seethed at himself when he imagined kissing it away. “Hey, mate. Look, sorry about that. I should’ve asked, it’s just everyone was yelling and Sirius was getting aggy-”
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t. “I was just thirsty.” Never been more hydrated in his life.
“Yeah?” James asked, his shoulders sinking in relief. Ironic, given that it only made Regulus tense further. “Good. That’s good. When you left, I thought you were pissed.” Even more irony, because James’s slur on the word pissed made it clear which one of them was. That was the other thing, too, he supposed. James was intoxicated. Sober James would never kiss him like that. Sober James would never have kissed him at all.
“It’s fine.” He repeated the lie, turning off the tap when he realised the water was about to overflow from the glass. It felt like he was going to overflow out of his skin and turn into a puddle on the kitchen floor.
“We’re good, then?” James asked, hands deep in his pockets as he rocked back and forth.
“Peachy.” If James had noticed the fact that Regulus had had to physically force the word out, he didn’t comment. He probably hadn’t seen, since James didn’t watch Regulus in the way Regulus watched James.
“Brilliant.” James replied with a lazy grin, freeing a hand from his pocket to push dark curls out of his vision as he did so. Idiotic curls. Idiotic curls that Regulus wanted to touch and grab and pull. “Well, mission accomplished, anyway. Evans has been giving me the eyes since.”
“That’s…” Regulus started, but was unable to say anything positive, so let the sentence trail off to nothingness.
“Amazing. I know.” James finished for him, as helpful as ever. Such a saint. “I think we might’ve sold it a bit too much, though.”
“Oh?” Regulus pushed, which he’d regretted pretty much as soon as he’d said it. There was just something about the phrasing that had irked him enough to keep the conversation going. ‘Selling it’. Regulus would get up at the crack of dawn, drag himself to the local market and sell it every day of his life, if that was the product. He’d sell his fucking soul for it. Auction off a limb for the sake of James putting their lips together again.
Maybe he was pathetic, or maybe he was just thirteen.
“Yeah. I mean, we proper went for it, didn’t we?” James laughed like it was funny. “Don’t want anyone getting the idea that I’m a poof.”
Oh. Oh. Alright, then.
Regulus had always understood that there was a fine line between love and hate. Hell, he practically skipped back and forth over it when it came to his parents, but he hadn’t considered how quickly James would make him jump over it. Out of all people. James. Consistently kind, generous, funny James was scared of being a poof. That made Regulus feel fucking wonderful.
It was like his heart split open in his chest, all of the blood pouring out of it collecting inside him and filling him top to bottom, flushing his skin an angry red. If he were stronger, the glass in his hand would’ve shattered- and he almost wished it had, so he could throw the shards at James’s ridiculous brown eyes. Oddly, he felt betrayed, though he supposed James had never been outright supportive of anything queer. At the very least, he’d assumed James would’ve been accepting, but this was turning out to be an unfortunate case of Regulus Black being terribly wrong.
And oh, how he loathed being wrong.
There were a lot of things Regulus could’ve said at that moment- his brain filled with poisonous insults that were just waiting to be ingested by James, hopefully shutting his peabrain off for good, but Regulus settled for none of them. Instead, he clenched his jaw and walked right out of the kitchen, actively choosing to not be in James’s space for the first time in… ever. Not able to take a hint, James caught up quickly, taking Regulus’s shoulder in his hand to pull him to a stop. All it made Regulus think of was that very hand on his jaw five minutes before in a moment that now felt horribly tainted.
“Reg? Where are you-”
Regulus twisted, shoving James’s hand from his body like it burned, and ignoring the way his ribcage creaked at the confusion on James’s face. Fuck his stupid fucking eyes and fuck the way Regulus wanted to fix the sad look in them. It was no longer his responsibility- actually, it never had been.
“Get off of me, Potter- and don’t call me ‘Reg’.” He ordered coldly, grey eyes flashing with anger. No James, he didn’t deserve the familiarity anymore. James was the only person who called Regulus ‘Reg’, and he’d set that privilege alight just to warm himself on the flames. James was so scared of people even questioning his sexuality? Hell, Regulus leaned in just to scare him, the inches between them feeling like nothing and miles all at once. “Don’t want the girls to think you’re a poof.” He snarled, letting the words settle between them just for the sake of watching James’s face fall. Good, he thought, fall and crumble and disappear forever.
The stunned silence from James gave Regulus enough time to turn on his heel and climb the stairs, lifting his wrist to his mouth to bite the material of his sweater to stop any quickly rising sobs from escaping. He walked down the hallway and slammed his bedroom door shut before he promptly burst into tears.
As far as Regulus was concerned, James Potter was a prick.