definition of insanity

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/46583422.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Regulus Black/James Potter, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Character: Regulus Black, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Kingsley
Shacklebolt, Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadowes, Pandora
Lovegood
Additional Tags: Modern Marauders (Harry Potter), Alternate Universe - Muggle,
Religious Guilt, Religious Humor, religious trauma, mentions of
homophobic family members, sad backstory made into a humorous
present, when life gives you lemons ya know?, Miscommunication,
Misunderstandings, Gay Panic, Gay Chicken, people being young and
dumb, Humor, Mild Angst, Fluff, excessive flirting, Jealous James,
Regulus fighting for his life at all times, regulus/other male character,
just a brief fling, one (1) intimate encounter whilst one of those involved
are drunk, james and regulus trying to one-up each other in being
insane whores for one another, gratuitous use of religious
imagery/metaphors for romance and sex, regulus and james have
some boundary issues, an ode to being twenty-two, an ode to small
town servers everywhere, cw: accurate depictions of the customer
service industry, Explicit Sexual Content, this is very sex positive, In
more ways than one, background wolfstar and dorlene
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-04-18 Completed: 2023-04-20 Words: 54,788
Chapters: 4/4

definition of insanity
by bizarrestars

Summary

Pretty, straight boys will tease, and they will tangle you all up with feelings you can't even
describe; they will give you hope the way you give them an in inch and they take a mile;
they will twist you around their fingers just to see you dance, just for the entertainment, just
because they're bored; they will like you, and like you, and like you so much as a person,
like being around you and how good you make them feel and the power it grants them to
make you feel in return; but they will not fall in love.

In all of that, through all of that, they do not fall in love.

(Or, the one where Regulus flirts a little too close to the sun and loves getting burned.)
 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes

hello, hello all :) this is a little thing i started writing because i missed regulus/jegulus,
and naturally, it sort of took a life of its own. it's a mostly feel-good type of fic, more
humor than angst, but there is little bits of sad moments and tragic backstory etc etc.
that's not really the focus of the fic, though. it's more about how being in your 20s
feels like your whole life is falling apart, but somehow, you're alright <3

now, to be clear!!! there's some religious trauma in this, which of course not everyone
will relate to/agree with, and that's fine. everyone's experience is different, and this
comes with what i hope is a known disclaimer: this is in no way a personal attack!!
okay, just wanted to get that out there. oh, and also! there's use of religious
imagery/religious themes in varying settings and references, and that INCLUDES
sexual/sensual scenes, so if that's not for you, run for the hills, bestie.

there is also a brief sexual scene where one party is drunk, but it's mild and definitely
wanted by both parties. and a character sends an unsolicited sensual video that's not,
like, explicit but definitely risque (and definitely appreciated by the person who
receives it), but just warning you for that now. there's some discussions around the
porn industry as well, and prison/criminal history, etc. oh, and very brief mentions of
death/grief, as well as losing someone to cancer. despite these things, i promise this is
NOT a heavy fic overall.

this is honestly just a silly, fun little fic that is not meant to be taken very seriously, but
could possibly bring a sense of comfort anyway!

enjoy!!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

What comes first is the surprise. James Potter is a surprise. For the life of him, Regulus could not
have seen him coming, or ever predicted him—but that's how life goes, isn't it?

"Listen, I'm at the shop when you have work, so I've enlisted James to take you," Sirius says, voice
tinny over the cell. "He's reliable, and he's a safe driver, it'll all be fine." A pause. "Yeah, alright,
he's just messaged. He's almost at your door. Go open it, and don't be rude."

Regulus sighs, phone on speaker as he moves for the door. "You know how I feel about strangers,
Sirius. You can't just dump strangers on me."

"A couple of months ago, I was a stranger, and now look at us. It's fine," Sirius replies lazily.
"You're my brother," Regulus hisses, because that might just be the only reason they're getting on
now, after years of being forcibly estranged. "I don't even know this man."

Sirius is the one who sighs this time. "James Potter. Twenty-three years old. He's my best friend.
He's friendly, he's funny, and he's a graphic designer who works from home, so he has the free time
to take you to work—oh, and he's straight, so don't flirt with him."

"I'm not going to fffff—fucking hell," Regulus blurts out, changing his tune mid-sentence the
moment he opens his door and lays eyes on James Potter for the first time.

James Potter, who—by the way—is unreasonably beautiful, and clearly a fucking loss to the queer
community, specifically Regulus. James Potter, who—by the looks of things—has heard this entire
exchange, and seems delighted by it. James Potter, who is grinning as he says, "Now that is how
you say hello."

"Thanks for your help, bye." Regulus hangs up before the words are out of his mouth, so Sirius has
no time to respond. "Hi. So, ah, you're my ride?"

"James Potter, at your service," James replies cheerfully, holding his hand out, a little glint of
humor and mischief there in his gaze.

"Sirius says you're straight. Don't be straight. Don't do that," Regulus says, reaching out to shake
his hand, and James laughs at him.

"Can't really help it, you know. It's sort of just what I've always been, but I'm a people pleaser by
nature, particularly the pretty ones, so just for you, I'm tempted to reevaluate," James teases.

"Oh, well, now you're giving me hope."

"Mm, I'm meant to be giving you a ride."

"Sure," Regulus replies, turning slightly to gesture further into his apartment. "Bed's just in here."

James cracks up immediately, his laughter lighting up his face, and Regulus quietly mourns all the
wonderful sex they could be having, if only god wasn't so cruel. Regulus' mother was right. God
really does hate the gays.

Here is the proof.

What comes next is precarious. It's a dangerous game to play, and if Regulus weren't a glutton for
punishment when it comes to pretty, straight boys, then he absolutely wouldn't be playing it. He
probably shouldn't be playing it—shout out to each and every pretty, straight boy he's played it
with, and lost against, to the point that he now knows, for sure, that he should definitely not be
playing it. Knowing doesn't change very much, in the end. Here he is, playing it yet again.

Regulus doesn't mean to, to be fair. Or, well, it's not a one-sided thing. (It almost never is, but no
pretty, straight boy he's ever known is ready for that conversation.) It starts with little quips, just
these passing remarks that shouldn't even have a place between two strangers, and definitely has no
business being indulged in by either party, but James eats that shit up. He likes it; the flirting, the
teasing, the push-and-pull and the give-and-take, the banter of it all. Not only does he like it, but he
participates, and right away from the beginning, too, so there's nowhere to go from here but up, or
crashing down.

After a couple of rides (to work, get your mind out of the gutter), Regulus has gotten to know
James enough to actually like him past just looking at him, enough to give into a sincerity he
doesn't usually allow when he says, "Listen, I just want to say—well, I hope you know you can tell
me if I'm making you uncomfortable. Like, I can stop fucking with you, James. I will, and you
have every right to ask me to."

"No, no, it's great. I love it. Very entertaining way to spend my time, honestly," James replies, easy
as that. "Plus, it's a huge ego boost. Trust me, I'm more than happy with you making it clear that
you'd fuck me if you had the chance."

"You're really missing out, you know," Regulus tells him with a wistful little sigh.

"Give me, like, cliff notes." James wiggles his eyebrows at him. "A little glimpse."

Regulus grabs one of James' hands—not the one on the wheel—and sucks two of James' fingers in
his mouth to 'give him a glimpse', as it were, and James nearly crashes his truck.
"Uncomfortable yet?" Regulus asks, after James has cursed and jerked the wheel a bit, the truck
drifting off the side of the road before James manages to get them straight again (heh).

"No, no, definitely not," James blurts out, poking Regulus' mouth with questing fingers, his head
swinging between watching the road and trying to watch Regulus. "Do it again."

"I have enough self-respect not to do it twice," Regulus replies, and pushes his fingers away.

James pouts about it.

So, all in all, James isn't necessarily giving as good as he gets, but he's taking everything that
Regulus can possibly throw at him, and rather gleefully, too. See?

Not one-sided at all.

What comes after that is a mistake. The big one, in this game. Because, the thing is, it's not that
dangerous until it gets deep. Until it starts to mean something. Until it branches out past physicality
and gets into feelings territory.

There's a party. Regulus and James have been playing some fucked up Frankenstein version of gay
chicken all night, except Regulus is gay, and James is very much not, and they both know this, and
so playing at all is quite pointless. Does this stop them? No, it absolutely does not.

Regulus has upped the ante by finding his way into James' lap. It's a bold move, but James has
been calling him baby since he walked through the door, so retaliation is in order. Regulus does not
ask, as that would defeat the purpose; he simply sweeps in and uses James as a chair, one leg
thrown over the arm of the actual chair, his back pressed into James' chest, a cup cradled in
Regulus' hands that holds more than enough alcohol content in it to get him right here.

James grunts as Regulus gets settled, quite literally snuggling back into him. "Well, hello to you,
too. If you wanted the seat, you could have just asked."

"You're my seat tonight," Regulus says, turning his head to meet James' gaze head on. "Unless you
want me to get up? Just say the word."

But James will not say the word, because then that would be losing this fucked up Frankenstein
version of gay chicken neither of them can actually win, which both of them will end up losing if
they keep pushing it anyway. But James likes the push. Regulus has learned that by now.

Instead of saying the word, James says, "Nah, you're fine," and lazily loops his arm around
Regulus' waist from the front, like a belt.

The party carries on. Sirius is here, and when he comes through the room, he throws them very
blatant disapproving looks. He knows Regulus has a patterned history of getting involved with
pretty, straight boys; that's actually one of the first things Sirius ever learned about him, when they
reconnected. It was the sole reason they did reconnect, but even beyond that, back further, there
was more history for Regulus to divulge. They spent a night getting drunk and sharing various
woes in their lives that the other wasn't around for, and—naturally—this turned to experiences with
heartbreak, which is when Sirius learned that Regulus' all have one thing in common. Yup, you
guessed it. Pretty, straight boys. They're impossible to resist and, each time, his complete and utter
downfall.

James is either oblivious to the disapproval, or doesn't get the sense that he qualifies, which—in
his defense—at this point in time, he doesn't. He can't break Regulus' heart yet. Not so soon. Not
when there are lines that haven't been crossed, and not when there are no feelings—

"You smell good," James whispers, nosing behind Regulus' ear, at his hair, at the warm spot right
under the hinge in his jaw that exists like an intimate little secret only lovers are supposed to know
about. "Like, really fucking good, Regulus. Shit, like—like the best thing I've ever smelled. What,
um. What cologne is this?"

"I'm not wearing cologne," Regulus whispers back. "That's just...me."

"God, I could live here," James mumbles, pressing his face further into Regulus' throat, pulling him
closer and holding him tighter. His fingers drape over Regulus' side, his hip, and they're flexing
there now. It's a mindless motion. Distracted. He doesn't seem to know he's doing it, and can't
seem to stop.

Regulus' heart does a thing.

Ah. Shit.

"You're drunk, and an idiot," Regulus says with a forced huff of laughter as he leans up.

"Yeah, maybe a bit, but I—oh, you're—hey, wait, where are you going?" James surges forward,
scrambling to keep a hold of him. He's struggling to maintain his balance, even sitting down, so
more than just maybe a bit drunk.

"Need a refill," Regulus tells him, and then he simply doesn't go back.

Regulus is gay, and he still loses gay chicken. Yeah, he's not really sure how that works either.

Now, what follows after that is…so fucking cliche.

Regulus has been around the block more than a few times with pretty, straight boys and knows
how these things play out; it's almost like a scientific method, but specifically for gay people. This
is both his least and most favorite part in the cycle; least, because of what it leads to; most, because
of how addicting it is. It's exactly like a drug. He knows it's absolutely going to destroy him later,
but it feels so fucking good in the moment.

To put it simply, Regulus should absolutely, definitely leave James alone. Just stop having
anything to do with him, for the most part. Acknowledge that nothing will ever happen between
them, give him none of his time or energy, and do not slip into further delusions.

Regulus does exactly none of those things, obviously.

"Oh my god, you have checkers?" James gasps, helping Regulus carry in a few packages of water
bottles that he graciously allowed Regulus to pick up on the way back home from work, because
he's nice like that. He's supposed to be dropping them off (done) and heading back to his car
(pending), but has since gotten distracted by a box on what is meant to be solely a bookcase, but
also happens to hold a whole variety of other things, including some boardgames. James has
already snagged up checkers, beaming. "You play checkers? Almost no one plays checkers
anymore, can you believe that? No sense of loyalty whatsoever; they've got clue and monopoly and
suddenly checkers isn't even something people care about, but me? I'm—what's the word? I'm—
I'm a loyalist!"
"To chess?" Regulus asks skeptically.

James gasps, dramatically. "This is not chess!"

Regulus can't help it. He laughs as he unravels the server apron from around his waist and dumps it
on the table. "I'm fucking with you, James. I know the difference between checkers and chess, and
yes, I know how to play checkers. It's, um. Just…"

Coughing, Regulus waves his hand lazily and turns away to start counting his tips, unwilling to
address the fact that it was something he and Sirius used to play when they were kids, before their
parents sent Sirius off to a school that was supposed to help fix him of his disobedience and,
somehow, only 'made him worse', in the eyes of Walburga and Orion. Then Sirius ended up in juvie
a couple of times, and it wasn't long before they were dumping him on Uncle Alphard halfway
across the country and allowing no contact from Sirius within the house at all. Too much of a
disappointment, too big of an embarrassment, too bad of an influence—or so they said.

Since Regulus was young, and Sirius had gone to kid jail, he was inclined to believe it at the time.
But, well, that was his brother, so of course he kept the boardgames they'd play to pass the time in
that horrible mausoleum of a house. Checkers was their favorite.

"Can we play? I mean, are you willing to get your ass kicked, is the better question?" James asks,
already plopping down at the table and setting it up before Regulus can stop him.

Regulus shouldn't, to be clear. It's sort of his and Sirius' thing, even though they haven't done it
since they were kids. Sirius has been in his apartment plenty of times now—helped him get it, in
fact—but he hasn't noticed the boardgames yet, and Regulus hasn't really thought much about it,
because with age, it seems that his and Sirius' new thing is drinking, or getting high, or throwing on
trashy tv shows, or all three—all while chatting, catching up, gossiping about various people, and
bitching about family members. A few times now, they've taken to bickering or arguing a little,
which is sort of nice, in an odd way. They feel less like strangers now than they did when they first
reconnected.

Even without Sirius to consider in the equation, Regulus still shouldn't, just because it's James. Just
because, lately, Regulus has been thinking about him basically nonstop; how he smells, his smile,
the sound of his voice, what his cock would feel like in Regulus' mouth—you know, typical crush
sorts of things.
Dangerous things. Unacceptable things. Pointless things. Silly, stupid, will-most-definitely-end-in-
tears things.

But, well, Regulus never learns.

"Kicking my ass is the last thing I want you to do to it, and trust me, you're not about to when it
comes to this," Regulus says lazily, licking his thumb to separate two tens stuck together from
either ketchup or syrup or some secret third thing that doesn't bear thinking about. It'll pay the
bills. That's all that matters.

"And what other things would you like me to do to your ass, Reg?" James asks, grinning up at him
from the table as he dumps all the pieces out, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Regulus sends him a flat look. "I'm afraid I'm better at showing than telling. Unless you want to
play a different type of game, I suggest watching gay porn. Might give you a few ideas. Might
even change your life, if I'm lucky."

"I lived with your brother for a few years before he abandoned me to go stay with Remus. You
think I haven't seen gay porn before? I've seen gay porn with Sirius in it."

"Why on earth would you tell me that? James, why the fuck—"

James cackles at the horrified expression on Regulus' face. "Hey, you're the one who brought it
up!"

"I can never go on any pornsite without fear now, do you realize that? I'm—oh god. Oh god,"
Regulus breathes out, standing there with money resting in limp hands. So, great, not only is he
stuck with feelings for someone who will never fuck him, but he can't even find escapism through
porn for fear of running across a video containing his whore of a brother. He'd never recover from
that. He's pretty sure that would turn him celibate. "He's awful. He's a whore. He's the worst person
—the worst brother—"

"Well, that's not very sex positive and queer supportive of you, Regulus," James says in mock
disapproval, clicking his tongue.

Regulus shoots him an incredulous look. "Yeah, not for him. This affects me! He didn't think about
that, did he?"

"About how traumatizing it would be for you to scroll past a video of him gagging on—"

"James!"

Laughing, James says, "No, he definitely wasn't thinking about you. He was a little busy gagging
—"

"James!" Regulus shouts, shuddering and feeling rather queasy.

"How do you think he met Remus? Wait," James says in glee, eyes lighting up. "Did he not tell
you how he met Remus? Oh my god, it's so funny, and actually really sweet. They did porn
together and fell in love! I can't believe he didn't tell you. It's practically Hallmark."

"I hate you. I hate everything about you," Regulus chants, frantically gathering his things to flee
away from this conversation as swiftly as possible. James is horrible. Beautiful, but rotted on the
inside.

"Wait, wait, don't you want to hear about when he realized he was in love with Remus?!" James
calls after him in delight, as Regulus all but races to get to his room. "He had just finished letting
Remus peg him, he said, and they locked eyes—"

Regulus slams the door to his room, trying not to gag, thankfully drowning out the rest of whatever
story James was spewing. No. Okay, no, Regulus will just go with denial. James is teasing, none of
this is real, and it can't hurt him. It's fine.

you're a whore. our parents were right. you deserve to burn in hell, is the message Regulus sends
Sirius in a fit of dramatics and on the verge of tears, before tossing his phone aside to change.

james is lying, but on an entirely unrelated note, you should probably stop watching porn. for no
particular reason, is the response waiting for Regulus, from Sirius, when he picks his phone up a
bit later.
i wish we were estranged again.

don't hate the businesswoman, reggie, hate capitalism

"Recovered?" James asks sweetly, when Regulus miserably shuffles back into the room.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Aw, come on, Sirius thought it was funny. I just texted him."

"I know. I hate you both," Regulus grumbles, plopping down at the table, wishing he still existed
twenty minutes ago, before he knew this. Denial isn't enough. He needs to bleach his brain.

James chuckles. "Oh, don't be like that. Be happy for your brother! It's how he met the love of his
life. A love made for movie screens, he always calls it. He's right, if you ask me. Sex sells."

"I've never hated the very concept of sex as much as I do right now," Regulus declares, huffing as
he folds his legs up under him in his chair, leaning forward on his elbows to scowl at the
checkerboard.

"Is someone pouting because they can't watch porn anymore?" James coos at him, eyes bright with
humor. "Use your imagination, Regulus. I'm sure you have one."

"Oh, I'll use my imagination, alright. I'm going to objectify you so much in my head out of sheer
spite," Regulus mutters bitterly, as if he's not already doing that as it is.

"Oh, hell yeah. Let me be the star role in all your fantasies." James leans forward and bats his
eyelashes playfully. "Imagine my dick big and my refractory period short. Fantasy-me will never
disappoint."

"So, you've got a small dick," Regulus says dryly. "Good to know."

"Oh, mhm, sure," James replies agreeably, with the lazy confidence of someone who is quite proud
of their dick, and has reason to be, which is just—not fair. Regulus hates straight people.

Regulus flicks his fingers at the checkerboard, making a sour face, in no mood to remain on this
topic. "You want red or black?"

"Black," James chirps. "You go first."

"Don't you have anywhere else to be? Anything to do other than hang around to bother me?"
Regulus asks as he takes his first move.

"Nope," James chirps, lips popping on the word. His gaze is fixed on the board, though, studying it.
Locked in. Oh, he's taking this very seriously. Oh, he's competitive.

Oh, Regulus likes that.

A lot.

There is nothing inherently sexual about checkers, just as an aside, but tell that to the way James
will raise his gaze and let his lips curl up when he meets Regulus' eyes before every move he
makes. Tell that to the way they watch each other, as they make their move, a ridiculous tension
building. Tell that to the way they go back and forth with taunts that have an edge to them,
something heated beneath a steady exchange that feels, impossibly, like foreplay. Tell that to the
way James sounds when he says, "King me," once he gets a piece all the way across the board, the
stupid sensual, seductive curve of the words rolling around on his tongue.

By the end of the game, Regulus has had half a boner for almost an hour, which only makes him
mourn the new lack of porn in his life even more, and to make matters worse, he's entirely positive
that he can never play this game with Sirius again.

Oh, and James also completely kicks his ass, which—as established already—is the last thing
Regulus wants James to do to it.

So, basically, god really does hate the gays.

The cliche, though—that comes much later that night, after James has already gone, and Regulus
has moped around his apartment in sheer despair for how stupid he is to keep entertaining someone
who has no interest in him whatsoever, outside of friendship, and even that's sort of conditional on
the fact that Regulus is Sirius' little brother, and James is Sirius' best friend. James literally
wouldn't care about him otherwise, probably wouldn't even notice him, which is honestly a bit of a
blow to ego, if Regulus is honest.

That night, instead of objectifying James in his head (okay, well, he does a little bit, but he's only
human), he chooses to focus his energy on having a very stern self-intervention, in which he works
himself up to the conclusion that he will absolutely, most definitely not let himself get caught up
with yet another pretty, straight boy that will only inevitably ruin his life. No. Not again. Not this
time.

This is, of course, when his phone lights up with a message from James, which is innocuous in and
of itself, because they only traded numbers so James could message him and let him know when
he's arrived to pick Regulus up for work, instead of having to come knock every single time. James
has messaged things from time-to-time that have nothing to do with that, usually memes, or a funny
little anecdote about his day, or about Sirius. They have also flirted quite a bit, and Regulus knows
for a fact that James has his contact saved as Baby Black with a fire emoji, an eggplant emoji, and
the sparkly heart emoji, because he likes to think he's funny, and he's the king of mixed signals. To
him, it's a joke. To Regulus, it's torture.

Anyway, despite having just come to the conclusion that he should be leaving James alone,
Regulus scoops up his phone to check it. In his defense, he really does go into it thinking that
maybe James is messaging because he left something at Regulus' apartment, or might not be able
to give Regulus a ride to work tomorrow, which are both things that Regulus kind of can't ignore.

Instead, there's just a video with a black screen that Regulus frowns at and clicks on without much
thought, only to jerk back and then nearly topple over in his haste to lean right back in, nose nearly
bumping into the screen, eyes wide as saucers, because the black screen fades out and fumbles
around to reveal a chest. A very nice chest. Broad shoulders, hills and valleys shaped out from the
angle of the camera, dips in collarbones and wide pectorals, leading into a smooth stomach with a
happy trail below a bellybutton, the impression of a V at the hips disappearing into the waistband
of what appears to be loose gray joggers.

It could be anyone's chest…for all of three seconds, before Regulus recognizes the hand slowly
sliding down it, because he's gay and has, of course, all but memorized the shape, shade, and feel
of James' hands by now, so he knows for a fact that it's James', which means that the chest is also
James', which is—which—

Oh god, there's sound?!

Breathing. Soft sighs. Definitely James. That's definitely James.

That's—

Regulus' brain is overheating. Spitting sparks. Fried. The video is framed like James is lying in
bed, shirtless, the line of his throat at the top of his screen, and the twitching muscles in his
stomach at the bottom. His free hand gently skates across umber skin, briefly brushing over a
nipple on its journey, not like that was the purpose, but simply a happy accident; his stomach
clenches and trembles in response to the fun little mishap, and there's the quietest sound of his
breath hitching. Regulus' goes hot from head-to-toe, heart thundering in his chest, eyes locked on—
well, all of it, as much as he can take in, and his ears strain to pick up every little noise James
makes. Most of it's quiet breathing, but there are a few breathy, soft sighs that border on the edge
of inappropriate. Or maybe it just seems that way to Regulus, who is shaking almost violently from
just the mere chance that it's inappropriate. And, well, it leaves little to the imagination—or, no,
more accurately, it leaves so much to the imagination, and Regulus is filling in the blanks with the
naughtiest fantasies his brain can concoct, and as someone previously steeped in religion and
repression, this means it's all pure filth.

The video ends when James' hand reaches the waistband of his joggers, then slips underneath, and
there's sound of another one of those soft, hitched breaths that could make Regulus fucking weep,
and then the video cuts off, just like that.

Regulus stares at the black screen it ends on blankly, a shrill screech taking place between his ears,
mind buzzing so much that it's like a hive of bees just broke open inside it.

Oh god, did James just accidentally send him this? Does he—fuck, he might have some girl he's
talking to, right? How in the hell is Regulus supposed to look James in the eye after this? He could
lie and say he didn't watch it, maybe, or should he message James back and let him know he sent it
to the wrong person? Should he just ignore it? He should probably just ignore it, and definitely not
watch it again, because that's a terrible invasion of privacy.

It's not—well, it's not too bad, except for the fact that it's very, very clear what context it's
supposed to exist in. It's not something James would send to, say, Remus for example, because
Sirius would get jealous. It's a thirst trap. It's a lure thrown out, just baiting someone to fall for it,
and Regulus is but small, pathetic fish swallowing a hook too big for its body. He has fallen for it,
and fallen hard, so hard, so fucking hard—no, literally, he's actually hard. Fuck.

Regulus takes a deep breath and digs deep within to find the strength to swipe the video away with
shaking hands, swearing to himself that he'll delete it, despite every part of him screaming out in
protest at the mere thought. He debates if he should reply for a second, then sees that there's a new
message already waiting.

For your imagination, James has sent. Always happy to help a buddy out ;)

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," Regulus whispers, sinking back into his pillows
weakly, reading the words again and again, rereading them, even, but nope, they stay the same.

James sent this to him.

On purpose.

James went home and filmed a suggestive, sensual video of him to send to Regulus, on purpose.

He.

He.

Straight people are so fucking weird.

"God," Regulus croaks, staring up at the ceiling in sheer agony as he lays his phone flat on his
chest, "why?"

God is not merciful, and whoever said so is a lying liar who lies.

Blowing out a deep breath, Regulus lifts his phone to stare at the video, then inevitably caves after
approximately five seconds. He starts it again and slides his hand under his waistband, inordinately
pleased that his no-porn issue has been resolved, because no porn could ever compare to this.
James does indeed help his buddy out.

The cliche of it all is, Regulus has never been more happy to be nothing more than a buddy than he
is right now, and he's very sure he's going to keep being James' buddy for as long as he can get
away with it, rather than leaving James alone, like he should.
But, as you know, Regulus never learns.

What comes after is the buildup to the break.

James is entirely shameless about his help. He sees Regulus the very next day to take him to work
and greets him with a cheeky grin, as well as a casual, "Did you get my message?"

"Yeah, I got it," Regulus responds, dryly. "A goodnight text would have sufficed."

"Ah, well." James shrugs. "I'm an overachiever."

"You're a terrible person."

"You're welcome."

Regulus ignores him for the rest of the ride to work, cranking the music up too loud to even think.
But, other than that, there's no further discussion, and Regulus just accepts the fact that he'll be
getting off to that one video for the rest of his life, as well as the fact that James is just going to
strut around smugly about that forever, because he knows that Regulus is doing it.

However, due to this situation, Regulus comes to the conclusion that he and James may have some
boundary issues, and considering the various little games they play, this shouldn't come as a
surprise. Maybe if Regulus didn't like the results of said boundary issues, he would actually
address them, but because he does like them, he says nothing. He does fantasize about beating
James up occasionally, though, if only to prove a point.

Honestly, Regulus had considered telling Sirius, because like, what else are big brothers for if you
can't just summon them to beat up people for you? Except James is Sirius' best friend, so he
probably wouldn't do that. Regulus could absolutely beat the shit out of James himself, like a
reverse hate crime (he may be a little shorter, and his muscles aren't as prominent as James' due to
his body type, but that's deceptive, because he's rather scrappy), but that would probably make
getting off to the video a little more difficult, or maybe it'd make it even better, but the risk is too
great for him to do it. He will not be putting his enjoyment of that video in jeopardy, not even to
knock some sense into James, who definitely needs it, since he thinks it's perfectly acceptable, as a
straight man, to send an unsolicited titillating video to the gay man he knows desperately wants to
fuck him, but won't ever get the chance.

The sad part is, James probably really did believe he was actually helping a buddy out. Sadder than
that, Regulus does feel rather helped when he's getting off to it, so he's kinda right.

In any case, Regulus makes his peace with it soon enough. It doesn't change very much between
him and James, other than more flirting opportunities, and James making inside jokes about it that
seem to please him. He's endearing like that, though. He likes inside jokes, he likes laughing, he
likes having a good time and feeling good and making others feel good. He's silly, and a bit stupid
sometimes, but in a way you can't help but be fond of.

Or, well, Regulus can't help but be fond of him. Maybe he's biased. Maybe his crush is growing out
of control.

No, scratch that, it definitely is.

It's not his fault. James is just—always around. He takes Regulus to and from work, so they see
each other five days out of the week, and occasionally more when Regulus picks up an extra shift.
It's not a long drive, overall, twenty minutes there and back, but Regulus doesn't have a car yet, so
he does take advantage of those rides to stop and pick up groceries or swing by places he needs to
go for various adulting requirements. He gives James gas money, so it's not like he's just using his
kindness, and James swears he never minds.

In fact, James seems to enjoy it, too. He lights up when Regulus tentatively asks if they can stop
somewhere so he can fill his fridge and pantry. James loves shopping with him, and usually knocks
out shopping for himself at the same time, to the point that they're now on the same schedule for
needing to replenish their supplies, and have just fallen into a routine they don't even talk about
anymore.

They stroll around grocery stores with one cart between them, bickering as they throw things in,
fussing about brands and types of foods they like that the other doesn't. James is an avid drinker of
chocolate milk, and loves to joke about the fact that he used to think they came specifically from
brown cows when he was a kid, which his parents let him believe until he was thirteen, because
apparently James gets his penchant for teasing and jokes from them. Regulus, on the other hand, is
firm on the belief that the best chocolate milk is white milk with chocolate syrup stirred in. He and
James argue about this every single time they shop.
Regulus can't deny that he gets butterflies when James follows him around the stores like a lost
puppy, running around with the cart like a little kid, hopping on it to ride one to one end of the
aisle, then ride back to Regulus, never going far or letting him out of sight. The one time Regulus
wandered off—he got distracted in an aisle smelling all different types of shampoos—James
showed up all huffy and pouty because Regulus just left him, apparently. Regulus was then
required to hold onto the cart for the rest of the trip and couldn't let go (a stipulation James' parents
used to live by with him, so he couldn't run off in grocery stores), and if Regulus lifted his hand
away, James would reach out and catch it to put it back. Regulus lifted it away a lot. On purpose.
Because he's pathetic.

As if that's not bad enough, James seems to think that he's just welcome to hang out in Regulus'
apartment all the time now. Excluding the couple of days that they run errands together, there's no
genuine reason that they should spend time together over forty minutes, for the ride to and from
Regulus' work. James, on the other hand, doesn't appear to agree with that assessment.

He just—comes in and sticks around. Wants to play checkers. Wants to sit at Regulus' table and ask
about his day, how work was, as if they didn't talk about it on the car ride back to his apartment in
the first place. Wants to listen to Regulus rant about customers, or complain about coworkers, or
just lament about the industry he works in that he never expected he would, but—well, life has a
funny way of kicking you when you're down, so he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Or,
he did, considering Sirius' place in his life, but his pride wouldn't allow it. Ironic, since working as
a server doesn't always grant much room for pride when he comes home from work with grease
stains and aching feet.

Nonetheless, Regulus has made his peace with that, too, for now. He's twenty-two. His life fell
apart last year. There's no shame in trying to get back on his feet, or so Sirius says. Regulus isn't
sure when he started taking everything Sirius says as law, but this whole brotherhood thing is
starting to warp his brain, he thinks. Maybe not in the worst way. When Regulus first got the job, it
seemed like the end of the world to him. Like a personal failure. Like he was going nowhere in life.
And then Sirius seemed genuinely happy for him, as well as proud, and it didn't seem as bad after
that.

That's another thing James likes to talk about a lot—Sirius. James really loves Sirius. Regulus
wishes it annoyed him more than it does, but it's actually endearing, too. A part of Regulus
appreciates it, because he went years not knowing anything about his own brother, through no
choice of his own, or Sirius', and James is happy to fill in the blanks. It's always different coming
from someone else than the source; where Sirius will say he restored a car, James will go on and on
about how Sirius built it from the ground up.

Sirius downplays his own achievements, as well as the harder times in his life, which Regulus tries
not to take personally. He doesn't think it comes from a lack of wanting to tell Regulus,
specifically, but rather that they don't seem as big of a deal to him as they do to outside
perspectives.
Remus is good for that, too. Regulus really likes him, especially when it comes to learning about
Sirius. He's the person Regulus almost always goes to for a rolodex of information on his brother,
even more so than James, because Remus literally knows everything about Sirius, and has a knack
for figuring out precisely what Regulus wants to know before he even works up the courage to ask.
He never fails to have the best things to say about Sirius. Where Sirius will think he's a little
glimpse in the dark, Remus will make it clear he's the brightest star.

Regulus feels a little bad about being intimidated by him at first, when Sirius introduced them.
Remus is tall, scarred, covered in tattoos, and looks very fucking mean. However, he's probably the
sweetest person Regulus has ever met. His voice is soft, and he's genuinely one of the most
calming presences Regulus has ever encountered, like the personification of herbal tea, or weed, or
something else equally relaxing. He's nice, and Regulus thinks he's good for Sirius, too. From what
Regulus has learned from Sirius, before Remus came along, he had a lot of bad relationships that
had made him all but give up on love, and then, well. Porn, apparently.

Regulus first met Remus when showing up at Sirius' house—or, well, it's Sirius and Remus' house,
but Regulus didn't know that at the time, so you can imagine his shock when a tall, sandy-haired
boy answered the door shirtless, covered in tattoos, having scars on his face, as well as his chest,
which Regulus would eventually come to realize are top surgery scars. Remus had been so tall that
he could reach up and lean his forearm against the doorframe, peering out at Regulus with a look
that seemed to march right through him.

And then he'd spoken, and he'd sounded so kind, and he'd known straight away that Regulus was
Sirius' brother, because apparently Sirius talked about him, and the resemblance was uncanny.
Regulus had been let in and been forced to wait a little over an hour alone with Remus, because
he'd shown up early in the morning due to nerves, and Sirius was still in bed. It turned out to be
quite nice. Remus is so sweet, honestly, particularly about Sirius. It also helped that there were
quite a few dogs around at the time, and Remus has a calming presence on them as well, so that
actually ended up relaxing Regulus quite a bit, as did the knowledge that he was trans, because
queer solidarity supersedes most discomforts.

Plus, truly, any doubts Regulus might have had about Remus at first, due to quick and harsh
judgments based on appearance, all but fled him the second Sirius came shuffling into the room
and lit the fuck up the moment his eyes landed on Remus, who took one look at him and
immediately softened and reached for him. That was, of course, the precise moment that Regulus
realized the kind, calming man hanging around his brother's house was his boyfriend, which,
retroactively, made a lot of sense.

They're clearly happy together, so Regulus is happy for them. He does envy them, though. Just the
ease of their relationship, how well they know each other, how obvious their love for each other
is.
Meanwhile, Regulus has a pretty, straight boy who has sent him a video that's somehow better than
any porn he's ever seen and now won't go away, like Regulus made the mistake of letting him get
his foot in the door, and that's all she wrote.

In retrospect, he sort of brought this on himself, didn't he?

So, the buildup begins. It finds a place in the corners of routine, in more and more time spent
together, in getting to know one another past all the ridiculous (and pointless) flirting. The roots are
planted between the aisles of grocery stores, fussing over the best pasta noodle types, helpless
smiles when people passing them by chuckle at James' antics and Regulus' exasperation. The plant
grows over a checkerboard, moves made and eyes locked, a relentless tension that has Regulus by
the throat and turns James' victory into annihilation. The flowers bloom through conversation, loud
bursts of laughter at a table James has accidentally chipped with his car keys, swapped murmurs on
a sofa they crowd close on to cradle a laptop on each of their legs as a movie plays on the screen.
The fruit turns ripe with Regulus moaning James' name in the peak of release, James' familiar soft,
dreamy from a familiar video playing in the background, a body finely tuned to wanting another
that doesn't share the sentiment.

It's the most natural thing in the world to fall in love with James. Regulus couldn't have stopped it
if he tried.

He never really tries.

The thing is, Regulus always has himself almost convinced that it's just him being silly. Just a
stupid crush. Just the whole thing of wanting someone unattainable, because that's supposed to be
safer, even though Regulus knows well by now that it's not. He'll talk himself into thinking that it's
just the attraction, the flirting, the proximity, and simply something to distract himself with.

And then James will touch him. James will smile at him. James will laugh, and it'll light his whole
face up like it did that very first day, when they first met, and it'll mean something to Regulus now
that it didn't then. It'll make Regulus mourn more than just sex; it'll make him yearn for things that
have nothing to do with sex at all. His fantasies stop being about fucking James—well, not
entirely, but enough to be worrying—and they start being about touching his hair, or holding his
hand, or being held by him. Kissing him. Sleeping with him. Having him, not as a buddy, but really
having him.

It's bad. It's so bad, and only getting worse, and Regulus endures. He suffers the euphoria of it,
getting so much of James, and—in reality—having none. Knowing his name, and never getting to
call him mine. Feeling his touch, and living with the fact that it feels irrevocably different to James,
or doesn't feel like anything at all.

Regulus has been here before. He knows how this goes. He knows pretty, straight boys like the
back of his hand, when they're like James, when they take an interest in Regulus that amounts to a
cat watching a bird trapped in a cage, occasionally slipping claws in between the bars to take a few
feathers for the fun of it, like trophies, but never opening that door to set the bird free, or put it out
of its fucking misery and just swallow it down in one bite.

There is the buildup, and Regulus falls in love, inevitably. He does it every single time, and he
does it alone. Despite the signals, despite the flirting and jokes and, honestly, the delusions that
flourish from simple desire, it's always done alone. Pretty, straight boys will tease, and they will
tangle you all up with feelings you can't even describe; they will give you hope the way you give
them an in inch and they take a mile; they will twist you around their fingers just to see you dance,
just for the entertainment, just because they're bored; they will like you, and like you, and like you
so much as a person, like being around you and how good you make them feel and the power it
grants them to make you feel in return; but they will not fall in love.

In all of that, through all of that, they do not fall in love.

And, for a time, that's okay. That's almost easy to ignore, or it always is for Regulus. He's good at
avoiding his feelings. James does things, and then Regulus' heart does things, and then he thinks
ah, shit and waits to see what James will do next. An easy cycle to get lost in.

It's always fine, for a period of time when everything is so good that ignoring it is pure self-
indulgence. When it's almost close enough to what it seems like that it doesn't matter what it'll
never be.

Then, eventually, there's the break.

Always the fucking break.

On a random Saturday Regulus caves and agrees to a double shift, since he's asked, he's off on
Monday, and the money can't hurt. This takes him from getting off at three in the afternoon to ten
at night, or more realistically, eleven, due to cleaning and such. He'd had to text James to tell him
not to come by and get him, and James had replied that he'd be there at ten instead, which—he
doesn't have to do that, seeing as Sirius would have closed the shop by then and could definitely
come get him, but Regulus doesn't want to bother him. He won't take Regulus' gas money, while
James does every time, no muss and no fuss. And, well, Regulus can admit that he honestly just
looks forward to spending time with James anyway.
Ten o'clock rolls around, and James isn't here. Regulus hardly notices, because he's mopping the
floor and pretending he doesn't know the line cook—Marlene—is fucking the manager in the dry
stock—Dorcas—which is definitely unsanitary, but Regulus doesn't eat here very often; he just
works here, so he doesn't care.

However, by the time eleven comes and all the cleaning has been done, much to Regulus' feet's
displeasure, James is still not here, even though he said he would be, so Regulus is mildly
concerned and also stumped on how the fuck he's going to get home. He shoots off a message to
James, asking if he's alright, then tries to call him after clocking out and standing out the back door
amidst cigarette ends and pieces of trash drifting along like tumbleweeds. James doesn't answer,
and Regulus is just about to get worried enough to call Sirius when the back door bangs open and
Marlene comes out.

Marlene pauses with a cigarette already clamped between her lips, hands half-raised with her
lighter hovering at the ready. They stare at each other for a beat, and Regulus doesn't know what to
say. It's not like they've never spoken—they've had to, to work together—but they've never really
spoken outside of work. Sirius is friends with Marlene, which is how he knew this place was hiring,
and Regulus sort of suspects that he only got hired because Marlene happens to be fucking Dorcas,
who is the person who hired him, despite him having exactly zero qualifications. Growing up
excessively rich didn't exactly leave much room to pick up life skills in this particular area of life,
so you could say he was cast out at sea, and left to drown.

Nonetheless, Regulus is pretty sure Sirius asked on his behalf, and then Marlene…ah, persuaded
Dorcas to take a chance on him, which. Huh, is this the poor people version of a nepo baby? Sirius
did work here at one time… Is Regulus a nepo baby? Nepo little brother? Hm.

"Where's your ride?" Marlene asks around her cigarette. "You never stick around when you're off."

Regulus clears his throat. "I can't get a hold of my ride. It's fine, I'll just call—"

"Hey, Dorcas!" Marlene shouts through the back door, after pulling the cigarette free from her
mouth.

"Yeah?!" Dorcas shouts back.

"Taking Roger home! Keep your door unlocked!"

"Why?"

Marlene rolls her eyes, hard. "You know why!"

"Oh, just get the fuck out of here. I need to run the sales and do inventory," Dorcas snaps,
appearing at the back door, eyes narrowed into slits. Her librarian glasses, square and wire-rimmed,
are still a little askew from her…earlier activities. "Go home, Marlene. It's not happening again. I
told you we were done with—" She stops, flicking her gaze towards Regulus, who pretends to find
his shoes interesting suddenly. Wow, look at that, there's a new questionable substance staining the
toe of the right one—probably coffee creamer, by the looks of it. "My door will be locked, so don't
bother knocking."

"See you in an hour," is Marlene's lazy response, smirking as she plants the cigarette back between
her lips and starts backing up towards her car. Dorcas scoffs and goes back inside, slamming the
door, and Marlene snaps her fingers at Regulus. "Come on, Roger, let's get you home. Where do
you live, by the way?"

Regulus glances down at his phone quickly, seeing no message from James, and when he looks up,
Marlene is by her car, door open, smoking and looking back at him impatiently. In no mood to piss
off someone who cooks food he has to serve to people who help pay his bills, Regulus surges
forward with no idea what else he's supposed to do in this situation. He wants to call Sirius,
honestly, but he thinks it might offend Marlene if he did that now, at this point.

The ride home is fairly eventful. Loud. Marlene plays back to back Eminem songs at a volume to
shake the whole car, and she rolls a blunt as she goes down the road, driving with her knees and
rapping along to the music without missing a beat, which is honestly kind of impressive. Regulus
would be more impressed if he wasn't gripping the oh-shit handle above the door for dear life and
praying to a god his parents swear has forsaken him that he gets home in one piece. Marlene, at
some point, offers him the blunt, and he takes it out of sheer self-preservation, because he heard
that if you get in a wreck, you're less likely to be injured as badly if you don't tense up, and getting
a little high does indeed help him relax, just a smidge.

Miraculously, Regulus does make it home safely, so maybe god hasn't fully forsaken him yet,
though he suspects he's on thin ice. Marlene tells him she'll see him in the morning, gives him a
salute, then speeds off down the street, music thumping as she goes. He stares after her for a bit
and suddenly, viscerally understands why she and Sirius are friends. Yeah. That makes a lot of
sense, actually.

Regulus—who was too busy thinking about how he was too young to die—hadn't really had the
chance to message or call anyone on the ride home, but he plans to do that when he gets inside.
But, before he can do that, he trips over James, who is sitting on the floor by his door, slumped
over like he's passed out.

"James?" Regulus blurts out, startled, then alarmed. Reflexively, he nudges James' leg with his
shoe, jolting in further surprise when James shoots up with a grunt, nearly toppling over to the
other side.

"Reeeeeg, you're hoooome," James slurs, head rolling back as he looks up at Regulus, then breaks
out into a sunny smile.

"Ah," Regulus says flatly, "you're drunk."

James hiccups and pouts at him, bottom lip poked out and all, those stupid big, brown doe eyes on
full blast behind his glasses, rather similar to Dorcas', except his is circular. "Oh, you don't like
that. Mm, not happy, not good, not good…" He tuts and shakes his head, which makes him sway.
"Are you mad at me? Come on, baby, don't be mad at me. Don't do that."

Regulus gets his key in his lock, opens the door, and goes inside.

"Reeeeeguuuuuuluuuuuus," James calls after him in a loud, whiny voice that will surely irritate the
neighbors if it happens again.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Regulus grumbles under his breath, pivoting on the spot to go back out and
glare down at James, who sees his return and immediately beams at him.

"There you are," James declares brightly. "Thought you were gonna leave me out here. Don't want
that. I have to tell you—" another hiccup, "—what happened. You see, what had happened was…"

James trails off as Regulus bends down to get his arms around him and help haul him up, grunting
as he does. James lets out a soft woah as he slumps against Regulus, leaning heavily against his
side. He almost immediately turns his head to press his face into Regulus' hair, inhaling deep,
humming low in satisfaction, which is baffling to Regulus, because he doubts he smells like
anything other than fried food and the white grape scent of Marlene's blunt wraps.

"Missed you," James mumbles, nonsensically, sounding rather sad about it. "Didn't—I wanted—I
swear, I promise I wanted to come get you. Was gonna. Planned to and everything, and then my
buddy Peter—we had plans, and we went—it's always the same bar, we go all the time, and I
wasn't gonna drink, even though I usually do, because we always do; it's a night out with my boys,
ya know? Sirius was there. Remus. And we all—it all got fuzzy, so stupid, I didn't mean—I didn't
forget you, okay? I didn't—I was just—"

"James," Regulus grits out, strained, "please shut up and walk."

"Didn't want Sirius to know you were working a double, and he was getting suspicious why I
wasn't drinking," James continues anyway, shuffling and stumbling along and sounding so, so sad.
"Peter was driving me home, or he was supposed to, so I had no reason not to drink, but if Sirius
knew, he'd go pick you up, and I wanted to do that. See? I wanted to do it, Reg. Me, me, meeeee."

"Really?" Regulus asks sarcastically. "Well done on that one, James."

"I know. I know," James groans miserably. "We left so late, and I made Peter drop me off here so I
could tell you. So you could know I didn't forget you. I didn't. Couldn't. Would never, everrr…"
He gasps a little as Regulus dumps him into his usual seat at the table, slumping forward against it.
"Was gonna call you, I swear, but my phone was dead, and I didn't know until I was already here. I
had to come here to tell you I wanted to come get you. I really did."

Regulus stares at him.

James gives him a sad little frown. "I'm sorry I didn't. Please don't be mad, okay? I just missed you.
I'm sorry."

Regulus stares at him some more.

James is sad-eyes and solemn sincerity. "Regulus? Are you mad?"

Regulus should probably be mad, in some way, because James did say he was going to come pick
him up, and he deliberately made it to where he would be the only one who would know Regulus
needed a ride, then failed to show up. But, at the same time, Regulus isn't really James'
responsibility. Regulus isn't anyone's responsibility, not even Sirius'. He can swallow his pride and
accept help, but at the end of the day, the only person truly responsible for Regulus is himself.
He could have paid for a ride, or even walked, if push came to shove. That's life sometimes. It's a
bitch, and Regulus went twenty-one years coasting through with a silver spoon in his mouth, until
his own stupidity and naivety brought it toppling down on top of him. Sirius wasn't shy about
letting Regulus know that it would be hard; growing up and doing shit on your own is hard, no
matter who you are, even those who have had things handed to them their whole lives, like
Regulus, until it was all taken away, and all he had left was a brother he hadn't seen since he was
twelve.

It had taken months of this new life to really settle into the fact that he was scraping the bottom of
the barrel in ways he used to be rich, but rich in the ways he used to scrape at the bottom of the
barrel. No, he's not wealthy anymore, but he has a family now. Or, well, he has a brother now—his
brother back, technically—which more than makes up for the supposed family he had before; they
all kicked him to the curb, while Sirius welcomed him with open arms, a little stilted and awkward
and nervous at first, admittedly, but with earnest effort nonetheless. No, he doesn't have designer
clothes, or the best of everything that money can afford, but he can buy his own clothes, with his
own money, and wear whatever he wants. No, he doesn't live in an opulent house, and his
apartment is a bit dingy and small, but it's his, and it's not lonely, and he doesn't have to hide
anything about himself or who he lets in just to keep all that he has. No, he can't afford to finish
school, and has no idea what the fuck he's doing with his life, but he's not as miserable as he was
when he was living for people who cast him out in the end anyway.

So, maybe Regulus would be mad, if this wasn't what his life looked like. If he only looked at
people for what they could do for him, like he used to. If he hadn't already come to the brutal terms
that life doesn't care where you come from; if you're going to get anywhere, you have to be willing
to go. If he didn't like James, if he didn't love him, if he didn't take a moment while standing sore
from running around all day with a fake smile plastered on his face in the name of scrounging up
enough money so he can make rent to look at James, who is drunk and genuinely apologetic and
human just like everyone else, and think to himself that this would be such a silly thing to be mad
about, when it's already done and over with, when James fell asleep at his door just to make sure
he'd know he wasn't forgotten. Somehow, that matters more than a promised ride anyway. Regulus
may be poor in promise, but he's rich in mattering to someone, and how is he supposed to be angry
about that, when it's what he really wants, almost more than anything else?

So, with a sigh, Regulus' shoulders slump, and his lips curl up helplessly, and he says, "No, James,
I'm not mad."

"Really?" James perks up.

"Really." Regulus rolls his eyes and points at him. "Stay here. I'm bringing you water. If you fall, I
will laugh."

James erupts into ridiculous giggles, hands coming up to frame his cheeks, his chin resting in both
palms like those innocent little cherubs in paintings. Regulus shakes his head and turns away to
sweep into the kitchen, rummaging around to grab a water bottle from the fridge, then set out to
find some medicine that James will definitely need to help combat his hangover.

As Regulus is moving around, his back to the door, there's a scuff against the linoleum that informs
him James did not, in fact, stay there. He rolls his eyes again and starts to turn, only to stop mid-
motion when he finds himself rather trapped against the counter, because James is right there.

"Have I ever told you," James murmurs, an odd gruffness to his tone that wasn't there prior, "just
how much I like this?"

Regulus follows James' gaze down, though he hardly needs to, because he can feel James hooking
his fingers around the string tied around his waist from his apron, which he still hasn't taken off.
He hasn't really had the time to, considering, and now he's overly aware of his apron in a way he
hasn't been since the first few times he wore it. He thought it was stupid, to begin with. Silly. Ugly,
even. It's a black half-apron that starts at his waist, where it's tied, and reaches to about mid-thigh.
There are three pockets on the front, one of which is stocked with pens (which he misplaces all the
time, but it's okay because he's a bit of a pen-thief and will steal from the other servers stupid
enough to sit theirs down), while another is currently weighed down with thirteen hours worth of
tips. He hasn't counted it (he's been reliably informed by Pandora, one of the only servers he works
with that he actually likes, that it's bad luck to count your tips before the end of your shift), but he
doesn't doubt it's a good bit of money, definitely enough to keep the lights on.

"Um, ah, no." Regulus clears his throat, watching James' fingers slide along beneath the string,
towards where it's tied, slowly curving around his hip. "No, you—you haven't mentioned it."

"Well," James says, gaze hooded, "I do."

Regulus makes a noise that's embarrassingly high-pitched. He coughs. "Right, right, well—"

"Every time I see these," James cuts in, head tipping to the side as he plucks at the tear-drop strings
tied at Regulus' back, hanging down over the swell of his ass, "I want to tug on them."

"James," Regulus says.

"Like pigtails," James carries on, curling the string around a couple of fingers and intermittently
tugging like they are pigtails, slowly loosening them. "Like—like the way Lily used to wear
pigtails in her hair, ya know? God, I always yanked too hard."

"Who's Lily?" Regulus asks, gaze flicking down again, helplessly, as his apron goes slack and
unravels at his back, sliding down his legs.

"Girl," James answers lazily. "Friend."

"Girlfriend?"

"No. Friend-girl. Not—no. I mean, I wanted her to be, when we were younger. S'why I yanked on
her hair, I think. Thought I could make her look at me if I did that. Spoiler alert, it didn't work."

Regulus releases a breathy laugh, heart racing as James lets his apron go and it pools at his feet.
"Yeah, well, would you want to look at anyone yanking at your hair?"

"Mm, depends," James says.

"On?" Regulus asks, even though he knows he shouldn't, but he really never learns, does he?

"Who and under what circumstances," James muses. He grins at Regulus, leaning in. "Lily got me
back for it later. We fucked once, couple of years ago. She was—" a hiccup, again, "—going
through a sexuality crisis. I didn't really understand it at the time, but I was happy to help her clear
things up. Wasn't that nice of me?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Did it clear things up, or make it more complicated?" Regulus asks quietly, struggling to hold his
gaze, and incapable of looking away.

James bites his lip. "Well, she's been with her girlfriend for over a year now, so I'd say it cleared up
a few things, yeah." He pauses, then huffs a weak laugh. "Okay, well, it wasn't me, actually. Not
really. She still likes boys, so fucking me didn't really tell her anything she didn't already know.
But I—I bet fucking her girlfriend did."

"I bet," Regulus echoes faintly, pathetically distracted by the feeling of James' curled fingers
running slowly, gently down the outside of his arm. It's—that's—oh, that is a disaster just waiting
to happen.

"So, I guess it's better to say her girlfriend was the nice one," James says, swaying forward a bit
more until Regulus has no choice but to step back into the counter fully, for the sake of his own
sanity, only to end up quite trapped and boxed in. James makes a pleased noise and crowds closer,
catching Regulus' hand and bringing it up to turn his face into Regulus' palm, breathing in deep
enough that Regulus can feel it. His fingers twitch against James' cheek. It tickles.

"What are you doing?" Regulus asks, aiming for levity, trying to sound exasperated, but it leaves
his lips with a breathless strain.

James shrugs one shoulder. "Smells good."

"My hand?"

"Mhm. Both of them. They always do when you get off work."

"There's no way. I've been handling food all day—"

"Yeah. Yeah. They smell like—like fruit."

Regulus blinks. "Like—"

"Cantaloupe," James whispers into Regulus' palm, lips grazing skin, hot breath spilling out through
the crevices of Regulus' fingers.

"I—yeah, I—I have to cut some for my side work," Regulus croaks, almost shaking, his stomach
squirming. "I do it last, every time."
"I'm glad," is James' lazily, mumbled response, and then he's flicking his tongue out across
Regulus' palm like he's stealing a little taste, and Regulus swears under his breath, because he can
feel it on his dick immediately, like a phantom touch connected to this one. James lifts his head and
looks at Regulus through hazy eyes, and he drops Regulus' hand abruptly, apparently deciding to
do something else, which is putting the same fingers he cradled Regulus' hand with against
Regulus' mouth. "Do you remember that day in the truck? In the beginning. When I asked for—for
cliff notes."

Regulus swallows, and then he nods.

James gazes at him for a bit, just looking, and still visibly drunk, which makes all of this so much
worse, and a terrible fucking idea that Regulus knows he shouldn't be partaking in, but it's like he's
a robot designed to work this way, under the control of how he was coded. He can't help it,
because even when his brain screams at him that this is a mistake in the making, he still feels his
lips part reflexively the moment James taps two fingers against them.

There's no hesitation, only a low hiss from James as he slips those two fingers right into Regulus'
mouth, pushing in past teeth and pressing gently on tongue. James' own mouth falls open a little
bit, and he's watching like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen in his life, utterly enamored
as he eases his fingers out to the tips, then presses right back in.

Regulus shouldn't, but he opens his mouth wider, listening to the hitch in James' breath and feeling
drunk off it, needing no help from alcohol to reach the level James is clearly at, where there are no
inhibitions and they both feel ten feet tall. James takes the blatant invitation, taking that inch given
and turning it into a mile, pushing his fingers in deeper, withdrawing them, then sinking them back
in faster. On his way out, Regulus sucks, and James wheezes, blinking harshly, his gaze snapping
up to meet Regulus'.

"Oh, you're—you look—" James can't seem to finish as he works his fingers back in, but he's not
watching anymore, his eyes locked with Regulus' now. His voice is low with reverence as he holds
his fingers in Regulus' mouth, whispering, "You're so red. Your cheeks are red."

Regulus doesn't doubt it. He can feel the flush in his face, not even from the shame he most
definitely should be feeling, but just from the effect this is having on him. He can easily imagine
how obscene of a vision he strikes, flushed and hollow-cheeked, lips swollen and wet, eyes wide
and dewy.

"You like this. It feels good for you," James breathes out, and then he's slipping his fingers out of
Regulus' mouth, letting them slide across Regulus' cheek, leaving a smear of drool across his jaw.
Regulus doesn't know how he doesn't see it coming, but it wouldn't matter if he did; he's not stupid
enough to even bother pretending that he would have tried to stop it, if he had the chance. He
would have accepted it as easily as he accepts it now, despite having no idea that he would get it in
the first place. It's James, and any part of him isn't something Regulus wants to turn away, but his
mouth especially is taken readily and revered like the gift it is.

James dives in and kisses him. It's sloppy, open-mouthed, the whimper-worthy glide of tongues
that has Regulus shuddering as his insides light the fuck up instantly. Oh, fuck, that's good. Fuck.

Regulus' heart does many things, and he thinks ah, shit with pathetic, habitual surrender, sinking
into the kiss like it's submerging him, rising over him and dragging him further into the depths. He
drowns in it, and doesn't fight it, doesn't try to hold his breath until his lungs burst. He gulps in
greedily, arms rising of their own accord to slide around James' shoulders like holding onto the
siren tempting him further out at sea, tangling his fingers in his hair to keep him here, and angle
him to deepen the kiss, because if this is it, if this is all he gets, he's going to enjoy every second of
it.

Oh, he enjoys every second of it, alright, high off it, tipsy from it. Exploring every inch of James'
mouth like unearthing treasure; it's as if he's struck gold, because James' mouth is hot, writhing
cavern with teeth, meeting and melding against his in a rain of sparks. It's so much, going so fast,
and the vibration of James' groan goes south like that was the only destination available between
their bodies. Regulus moans, helplessly, recklessly, and James has him by the hips, pressing him
back against the counter, holding him there.

It's simple for James to get his thigh between Regulus' legs, because that's precisely where Regulus
wants it. Or, his dick does, at least, and his dick is absolutely leading this show at the moment.

"Oh," James gasps out, breaking away—much to Regulus' internal dismay—to duck his head and
look down at the small space between their bodies, where his leg fits between Regulus', and where
Regulus is capitalizing on that, because he's not a fucking idiot. "You're—you just—are you going
to—"

Regulus stops, leaning back, blinking rapidly and panting, because James can't seem to string a
sentence together, and that's all the reminder Regulus needs to feel it like a slap to the face that, oh
yeah, James is completely fucking wasted right now.

"Okay, hold on," Regulus says, trying to catch his breath, trying to fucking think around his own
fog of arousal. "You're drunk—you don't want this—"
"I do. I do. I really do," James insists, slurring even as he says it, but looking so sincere,
so eager. No one has ever looked at Regulus like that before, with earnest desire, and no one's ever
looked so beautiful doing it. "Don't you want this, too?"

"Yes," Regulus admits, wheezing helplessly, because James' fingers brush against the skin of his
hips under his shirt, a sensation that makes him struggle to catch his breath. It feels so good.
Everything with James feels so fucking good.

"Okay, baby, I've got you, shh," James assures him, fingers tightening on Regulus' waist and
pulling, a bit too harsh, but it does cause plenty of friction that knocks the good sense right back
out of Regulus' head. James keeps pushing and pulling, back and forth, too sloppy and
uncoordinated to have a good rhythm, but Regulus is so wound up that it honestly doesn't even
matter. "It's okay, I know what I'm doing, or—well, I don't know what I'm doing, but you like it.
You like it, don't you? It feels good, doesn't it?"

Regulus curses, dropping his head forward on a whine, hands flying up to clamp down on James'
arms. He holds on, eyes closing of their own accord, hips rocking with James' guidance. James
presses into him, closer, closer, closer. So close that Regulus doesn't know where he ends and
James begins. It does feel good. Regulus does like it. All his earlier protests evaporate on the spot,
and he gives in yet again, as he always does, because why?

Exactly. Because he never learns. Cookies for all of you.

James nuzzles at Regulus' neck, that secret spot below his ear, nipping at it with teeth, and Regulus
jerks against him, which clearly spurs James on to do it again. James does, and more. Puts his
mouth there, sucks and bites and makes a mess, panting hot and wet against his skin, murmuring
nonsense about how good Regulus feels right now, and Regulus nods along stupidly, moaning and
shaking and losing it, losing it, losing—

There's the build, then the break.

Regulus gasps into James' shoulder, body locking up as his hips twitch and grind, everything going
white-hot and sparkling as he comes in his pants like he's a fucking teenager again, even though he
didn't even do that when he was a teenager. Too repressed, back then, but he's more than making
up for it now, and dear god, it's even better than he could have imagined. All of his senses are
assaulted by James, overwhelmed by his smell, his heat, the feeling of his hair and the hard and
soft lines of his body pressed deliciously close.
James peels back to watch, looking as fascinated as he did when his fingers were in Regulus'
mouth, and he barely gives Regulus time to recover before he's surging forward to kiss him silly.

Regulus unlocks and deflates into him, syrupy and sweet from the inside out, all fluttery as he rides
the high, sighing into James' mouth and losing himself to the soft, leisurely kiss.

When James pulls back, he only goes far enough to give him a lopsided grin, glasses wonky on his
face, eyes still cloudy. He chuckles and whispers, "You really liked that."

"What gave me away?" Regulus asks weakly, letting his head thunk down on James' shoulder
again. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in and out, slowly coming down. Fuck. He doesn't
want to think right now. It'll all catch up to him if he does.

"I'm so nice," James mumbles, his voice warm, and he rubs his cheek against the side of Regulus'
hair. "Are you sticky? Was that sticky? You have to be sticky. Do you have Cheerios? I'm sleepy."

Regulus blinks hard and lifts his head. James is still beaming at him, looking so pleased with
himself that it would probably be hilarious at any other time. "Cheerios?"

"The chocolate kind, if you have it." James pauses, then graciously adds, "Please."

So, Regulus makes James a bowl of Cheerios—not chocolate, because he always gets the original
kind, while James gets the chocolate kind, something they bicker about often while shopping—and
he leaves James happily chowing down to go get a shower.

When Regulus returns from the shower, he finds James gone and instantly spirals into self-beration
for his stupidity, because what the fuck did he expect? He knows how this goes. He always knows
how this goes. The bowl is washed out in the sink, and Regulus wants to throw it at a wall, but he
doesn't. Instead, he miserably shuffles into his room and right into his bed with all intentions of
having a full fucking meltdown, but encounters a lump under his covers before he can do just that.
Oh. Well, that's new.

James is fully clothed and conked the fuck out, though he did at least seem to have enough of his
wits about him to remove his shoes. He's just laying there, all cozy, breathing deeply, slack with
sleep. He was apparently not kidding about being sleepy and just—helped himself to Regulus' bed.
Regulus stares at him through the dark, and though he should know better, he dares to let himself
hope.
 That feeling only grows when James latches into Regulus in his sleep, turning over when he senses
that he's there, then winds all around him like he's trying to fold him directly into his body. It's the
stupidest thing Regulus has ever done, but he closes his eyes and lets himself feel happy. That
night, he falls asleep smiling.

He wakes up alone, and this time, James really is gone. As you can imagine, the false sense of
security only makes things hurt worse. You'd think he would have prepared himself for that, but he
never…

Well, you can likely take a guess.

Chapter End Notes

regulus really never learns

this is only 4 chapters, so i will be posting one a day until it's finished, mostly to try
this format, and also because ive already finished it lmaoooo.

so, okay, there's a lot to cover!!!

let's break it down!!! obviously, me being me, ive written sirius and regulus having a
complex little relationship, but it's very wholesome/sweet overall. sirius is a good
brother, and we see more on that later. also just like, i love sirius in this. he's a
mechanic with a criminal history AND a retired pornstar he's lived a million
different lives, and now he's living with his boyfriend who is ALSO a retired pornstar
lmaooo. he and remus are very dear to me in this fic.

and so are dorlene!!! work romance is always fun to see play out and, being that
dorcas is a manager, it allows for room for plenty of humor. those two are very special
to me, and i just can't shake the feeling that marlene has line cook energy. if you know,
you know.

anyway, jegulus!!! jesussssss christ they're a mess and they will CONTINUE to be a
mess james is absolutely fucking insane btw. obviously i do not condone sending
unsolicited messages of a suggestive nature, please don't do that, james and regulus
just have boundary issues and had been flirting already and playing little games with
each other regulus wasnt shy about being open to things like that and JAMES had the
audacity.

i know the last halfend of this chapter isn't a very good look for james, but!!! cut him
some slack, bear with him, we WILL get to the resolution and understanding soon
enough, i promise. james is doing his best ok

and, again, this fic is literally just meant for the fun and the laughs and the drama, so
that's literally all it is. no higher point to the plot, other than like. being an ode to the
service industry + being twenty-two.

yeah, alright, hope you enjoyed! see you tomorrow <3

 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

just a bit of angst in this one, but in a funny way, or at least i think so. this is also
where the whole regulus/other male character comes in, but rest assured, it's brief and
changes absolutely nothing about how he feels for james lmaooo. it's literally just a
little fling, basically. jealous james my beloved <3

oh!! and like, okay, so there's some religious trauma and past childhood/family
abuse/trauma, but it's about sirius and regulus, and it's only referenced, not current!
also a tiny mention of, like, workplace harassment—not because it's happening, but
more just discussing the topic broadly!

but that's about it!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Following the break is the full shatter, pieces left on the floor that will cut if dared to be picked up.
A break creates a fracture, but this? The full shatter destroys it completely.

Regulus is late for work the next morning. He has to pay for a ride that's not James, because James
doesn't show. James doesn't even message to let him know he's not coming.

Regulus knows he's awake, because he has to be, because he snuck out at some point, while
Regulus was still sleeping. Regulus' pride won't let him call or message James, but he's pathetic
enough to wait until the very last minute anyway, which is why he's late to work.

As you can guess, Regulus is in a terrible mood the whole day. Marlene, on the other hand, is
whistling cheerfully in the kitchen, working her magic—the best damn cook in the joint, which
might be the only thing that keeps her from getting fired, because fucking the manager definitely
warrants losing her job. She doesn't seem too worried about it, though, and frequently catcalls and
flirts with Dorcas every time she steps into the kitchen, getting reprimanded each time, which only
seems to put her in a better mood. Dorcas, for all her stiff scoldings, keeps sneaking back into the
kitchen to go hang around Marlene more than once, so he suspects that Marlene did end up with
Dorcas after dropping him off, and they clearly had a better end to their encounter than Regulus did
with his own.

It's a bad day, overall. Being a server and working with the public in a way that requires you to
have a welcoming, approachable, likable attitude is difficult for him on a good day, and not
something he picked up easily when he first started. But, well, when it's the only source of income
you've got, you make do and figure it the fuck out. It's a performance, a customer-service smile and
script that does eventually, thankfully, become something like second nature.

However, the bad days are when it's the hardest. When he greets people in flat, blank tones and
can't quite wipe the scowl off his face, no matter how hard he tries. When he glares at people who
piss him off and snaps at coworkers he usually pretends to have patience for. When things outside
of work are bad enough to carry over inside of it, even though the general rule of thumb is that
you're supposed to leave it at the door. Not the easiest thing to do, in reality.

Needless to say, Regulus gets stiffed multiple times, and the lack of tips only upsets him even
more, and then mid-shift he starts to fuck everything up. He drops and breaks two plates, spills four
drinks, takes out the wrong food to three different tables, has to call Dorcas out to talk to a few
different people when they complain, and keeps forgetting everyone's fucking straws. Two hours
before Regulus' shift ends finds him hiding in the bathroom with the sink running, head in his
hands, and crying from overwhelming frustration.

But, well, there are two more hours left, so he cries it out, hates himself for crying in the first
place, scrubs his face, flushes the toilet he didn't even use, washes his hands, and goes back to
work.

When it's over, finally, Regulus honestly thinks he could kiss the ground when he walks out of the
building, officially a free man. It's the first bit of relief he feels all day, and then he sees James'
truck, and that relief curdles into immediate apprehension.

He checks his phone. James hadn't messaged to say he'd show up. Regulus had assumed he
wouldn't.

And yet, there he is.

Cautiously, Regulus makes his way across the parking lot and peers into James' truck. James
doesn't see him. He's leaning forward, curled over the wheel, his face pressed into it.

When Regulus opens the door and climbs in, James jerks up straight and whips around to stare at
him, wide-eyed. Regulus freezes in the middle of reaching for the seatbelt, having half a mind to
crawl right back out the truck and walk home, because James looks spooked.

"Hey," James rasps. He licks his lips. "Uh. Hi. Hey."

"Hey," Regulus replies quietly, feeling rather stupid, and also very uncomfortable. James has never
greeted him with anything other than a smile. This is…awkward.

"Sorry about. Sorry. For this morning." James pauses for only a second, then hastens to clarify,
"For not taking you to work, I mean. I had—there was a hangover. Fucking sucked. Sorry."

"It's fine," Regulus says, even though, this time, it's not. He clicks on his seatbelt and looks out the
window.

James turns on the truck and begins to drive.

Somehow, impossibly, things grow more awkward on the ride home. They don't talk. Usually, they
do. James wasn't playing music, and Regulus is too uncomfortable to just turn some on to drown
out the stifling silence. It's Sunday before Regulus' two days off, which is generally when he and
James stop to pick up some things, but James is very obviously driving Regulus straight home, and
Regulus can't find his voice enough to speak up and ask to stop anywhere.

The twenty minutes feel like too long and far too fast simultaneously, and then Regulus is home.
James stops, but he doesn't cut the truck off, meaning he's not getting out. Right. Great.

It burns in Regulus' throat like bile, and he wants to throw up, wants to put his first through James'
windshield, wants to cry and wants to never shed one fucking tear for another man in his entire life,
and knows, realistically, he brought all of this on himself. The lump in his throat is his own fault.
The ache in his chest is a trap of his own making. James never said he wasn't straight. Not once in
all of that. In fact, he said the opposite, and Regulus knew it.

Regulus knew it. He knows how it goes. His whole life fell apart to this, so how come he didn't
learn?

The worst part for Regulus is always the point of no return, when things have altered too much,
and it can never go back to the way it was before. It's the shittiest part of it, because in all that
buildup to love, there was genuine care fostered in his heart. A sense of friendship, underneath it
all, if nothing else. And he put that at risk, knowing better, left with no other choice but to lose that,
too.

With James, it's the worst it's ever been, because he—he likes James. He actually, sincerely likes
James as a person, despite the fact that he is, in many ways, Regulus' polar opposite. He likes
spending time with James, in grocery stores, across a checkerboard, tucked away in a small
apartment where it's perfectly okay to laugh as loud as they want, and have things to laugh about.
He likes knowing James, and getting to know him, and just—just him. Just James.

Regulus can feel all of that slipping away, swallowed by the silence in the cab of a truck that's
surely never been this quiet within before. He's losing it, in the worst way possible. Losing all of
it.

Secretly, horribly, Regulus is addicted to this part, too. Like he's been the cat all along, playing
with the bird that's already dead.

But this isn't so simple. This doesn't have an easy, cut and dry ending—not that the last time was
very easy, or cut and dry. When you're this young, your life falling to ruin is just another Sunday,
the worst thing you've ever experienced, and the biggest rush you'll ever have. Regulus can't just
run away from it this time, though. Can't just reinvent himself and build a new, perhaps better life
elsewhere. This, he thinks, is the best life he'll ever get.

James is Sirius' best friend, and he has a place in Sirius' life, so if Regulus wants one too, wants to
keep it now that he's gotten it back, then he's just going to have to come to terms with seeing
James. There's no way around it, and he should have thought of that before he started playing this
game with him—did think of it, in fact, many times—but he was too busy caught up in the rush of
it to care about the fallout he knew was coming.

And, now, there is silence. Stifling, suffocating silence, so thick that Regulus can feel it dragging
across his skin, under it, crawling like ants, squirming like something alive.

Regulus puts his hand on the door handle, but then he stops, because this isn't the same as last time.
This is salvageable, isn't it? Simply because it's James, because he may be pretty, and he may be
straight, but that doesn't mean he's malicious, or cruel, or so completely out of touch with reality
that he can't face this like an adult.

"James," Regulus says, turning to face him with a deep breath, setting his shoulders, "about last
night—"

"Ha, crazy night! Wild," James cuts in, fingers tightening on the wheel. "I—god, I drank so much. I
—I'm, um, I'm really sorry for not coming to pick you up last night. And this morning. Just…well,
I hadn't planned on getting that drunk, but it was me and my boys, and one drink turned into…way
too many, and then—boom!" He laughs a little too loud, throwing his hands up. His laughter
sounds forced. "Just wasted, ya know? Don't even remember last night."
Regulus freezes. He says, softly, "You don't remember?"

James looks over at him, finally, and he does. He does remember, and Regulus knows he does.
They both know he does, because it's right there, written all over his face, choked down with a
harsh swallow as the column of his throat rises and falls. A beat passes, the weight of an incoming
lie settling in, and they both feel it sitting in between them on the seat. Pushing them up against
their respective doors. Keeping distance. James could oh so easily kick it out.

James doesn't. He says, softly, "No, I don't."

"Right," Regulus murmurs, holding his gaze, pinning him there until he can't seem to take it
anymore and drops his eyes, looking away. Regulus feels his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.
He flexes his hand on the door, then gives a sharp nod. "Right, well, I just remembered something.
Good news, you don't have to worry about taking me to work or picking me up anymore."

"What?" James' head snaps back around, eyes wide. "Why not?"

"I finally saved up enough to get a car." Regulus gives him a tight smile. "Sirius is taking me to
pick one out tomorrow. So, I won't be monopolizing your time. That's a weight off your shoulders,
I bet."

James doesn't react to the mild jab the way Regulus expects. He isn't ashamed, or even agitated. He
looks like he's panicking. "Wait, but you—I thought—so, so no more rides? Not even—"

"No. I've got it covered," Regulus declares, digging in his apron pocket to pluck out a crumpled
twenty to drop on the seat between them, then he flings open the door and climbs out.

"Regulus," James calls after him, leaning over the seat, a ridiculous amount of worry and upset
painted across his features.

"Bye, James. Thanks for being so fucking nice to me; I really appreciate you helping a buddy out,"
Regulus tells him with sarcasm dripping over every word. James opens his mouth, and Regulus
slams the door before he can speak, then whirls around to go inside.
He doesn't look back as he goes. Not that he'd see very much if he did, just James Potter banging
his head against his steering wheel.

When Regulus makes it into his apartment, he hovers at the corner of his window to peek out the
curtains, waiting for James' truck to pull off and drive away before giving into his tears.

After that, well, there's the time to hunker down, swallow your pride, and pull out all the stops to
push past all that came before.

Regulus shows up at Sirius' place unannounced early in the morning on Monday, which,
coincidentally, is a day he closes his shop, which, coincidentally, is a day Regulus usually has off.
Not very many Mondays have gone by without them seeing each other, so it doesn't come as a
surprise to Sirius that Regulus turns up at his door.

What does come to a surprise to him is Regulus looking him dead in the eye and saying, "I need
you to buy me a car."

Sirius opens his mouth, then closes it. He looks over at Remus, who is sitting in a recliner with a
dog draped over his lap, and two more sleeping at his feet. Very big dogs, at that, but only one is
his; the other two are being rehabilitated for past dog aggression. Remus is a professional dog
trainer, and apparently a successful one, on account of essentially working miracles; the two dogs
being trained to stop fighting are calm at his feet, with Stella—his dog—peering down at them
from on high like she's ready to correct them at a moment's notice. Remus swears by training with a
dog's assistance, says nothing trains a dog better than another dog that's already trained.

He hasn't been at it long, just a little over a year now, seeing as he's only twenty-three, and Regulus
supposes that he wasn't in porn very long, or maybe he was putting himself through school that
way, but obviously Regulus isn't going to ask. Truth is, Regulus desperately doesn't want to know.
However, he can admit that it leaves one reeling to think this man was a pornstar, met the love of
his life, then retired from sex work to become a dog trainer.

Remus also doesn't have the same background as Sirius. He may look like a delinquent, but Sirius
teases him all the time for having a spotless record. Not tough enough to partake in a life of crime,
he'll say, and Remus will respond that just because he never got caught doesn't mean crimes
weren't committed. It makes Sirius cackle each time, like he's hearing it for the first time every
time.
Sirius, on the other hand, does have a criminal record. Not only was he in juvie (thrice), but he was
tried as an adult when he was eighteen and had to spend twelve days in jail, which he says was
boring enough to ensure he'd never do anything to go back. He didn't go back, or get in trouble
with the law again, but Remus has said that the true reason is because he didn't want to embarrass
Effie and Monty, James' parents, who he was staying with at the time—or worse, disappoint them.
It wasn't too long after Uncle Alphard died from cancer, so Sirius was pretty listless and lashing
out, or so he has told Regulus, but he got his shit together after that. He got the job working with
Marlene, but only stayed for about a year.

Sirius was vague about what he did when he stopped working where Regulus works now, around
nineteen and all the way until he was twenty-one, which Regulus presumes was his time spent in
the porn industry. That checks out, because he has said that he met Remus at twenty, so the
timeline adds up. Following that, however, Sirius gave more detail about how he had fixed up his
beloved motorcycle and found a love for vehicle restoration, which led him to becoming a
mechanic and eventually opening his own shop. And, huh, now that Regulus is thinking about it,
he can take a guess at where Sirius got the money from to buy and open a shop. Sex sells well,
clearly.

Sirius' work is something their parents would label as dirty, but the automotive business is always
booming, and Sirius is actually really well off to only be twenty-four. Well off enough to help
Regulus get an apartment, deposit and first month's rent and all the bills to make it liveable, as well
as furniture on top of that, and then keep Regulus paid up there until he got a job and could take
over paying the rent himself.

Even if Sirius wasn't as successful as he is, there's always Remus, who apparently does well for
himself as a dog trainer. Or, maybe they were smart with their porn money, and that's why they
live so comfortably, but Regulus decides the possibility that Sirius helped him with money he got
from porn doesn't bear thinking about.

All that is to say, in the beginning of all this, when Regulus and Sirius reconnected, and Sirius
helped Regulus as much as Regulus could stand (meaning the help he couldn't refuse), Sirius had
offered then to get him a car. Regulus had said no, because he drew the line at Sirius buying him a
fucking car. He said he'd get a bike to ride to and from work, or pay for a ride if necessary, until he
saved up enough money to buy his own vehicle, and Sirius relented, then roped his best friend into
being Regulus' ride, and now they're here.

Regulus usually loves a full circle moment, but this one?

This one sucks.

"You want me to buy you a car," Sirius repeats slowly.

"Yes," Regulus mumbles, because at this point, he's fucking desperate. He clears his throat.
"Please."

"You got really upset when I offered to do that, though."

"I—yes, I know, but…things change."

Sirius stares at him, frowning. "What's changed? You were really upset by the idea before, and you
definitely wanted to buy your own, so I know you've been saving since James has been—" He
stops. His frown freezes, and then his face goes slack. Something sharpens in his eyes. "Ah," he
says softly, "James. It's James."

Regulus' hands fidget in his lap. He drops his gaze and lets it drift away, scanning the art on the
walls to distract himself, and the custom chrome exhaust pipe hanging up that has a silver piece
shaped like a lion head on the tip of it. There's a stand next to Remus' chair with a small bag of dog
treats, and a closed laptop that has stickers on top of it, like the classic David Bowie lightning bolt,
as well as the trans flag, and a cheeky slogan that Regulus laughed at when he saw it the first time,
because it says cock is my religion.

When Regulus glances back over, Sirius is still looking at him, and now his lips have pressed into a
thin line. Shit. Okay, clearly he's not pleased by the insinuation that Regulus has upset James, or
made things awkward, especially after he made his disapproval quite clear. He even said it all the
way back at the start. He's straight. Don't flirt with him. And Regulus didn't fucking listen.

"He didn't—" Regulus stops and hesitates, because he can't quite make himself say that James
didn't do anything, because he—he definitely did some things. Regulus has a video on his phone to
prove it. So, instead, he says, "This isn't on him. It's not his fault. This is—it's on me."

"You caught feelings, didn't you?" Sirius asks, and Regulus swallows, his eyes sinking shut. Sirius
heaves a very deep sigh. "Well, I'm not sure I'd agree that this is all on you. James isn't entirely
blameless."

Regulus' eyes pop open, because for some reason, he really wasn't expecting that. "You—what?"

"Oh, come on, Reggie, you think I didn't notice how he was with you? He's not an innocent party,
not with how he was acting, even when I told him to cut that shit out," Sirius says, lips twisting in
clear agitation as he shakes his head. "I'm no stranger to this either. Being played with like a toy by
a straight person is basically a staple of the queer experience, and I—I don't think that's what James
called himself doing, at least not on purpose, but if it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, and feels
like a duck—"

"It's a fucking duck," Remus fills in.

"And it's not—it's not like him at all. He's never done anything like this, even though he definitely
had the opportunity to try with me, as his best friend," Sirius continues.

Remus shoots him a look. "Are you saying he doesn't?"

"I mean, that's just James." Sirius stops, considers this, then grimaces. "Okay, so he's a massive
flirt, always has been, but this is different, and you can't say it's not, Remus."

"I'm not. He's definitely weird about Regulus." Remus holds his hands up in surrender. "Listen, I'm
trans—if you think I don't know a thing or two about straight men playing games, you're sorely
mistaken. And, I mean—well, now that you know, Regulus, I can just say it, but—there's a whole
market for straight men in gay porn, and people definitely can have sex with people they're not
actually attracted to, or flirt with them, or do all manners of things, especially when they're getting
paid, or getting something out of it. I know it's not unheard of, but I'm playing devil's advocate
here, because it's James, ya know? He's not… I really don't think he'd do that…"

"On purpose," Sirius states flatly. "That's what you're not saying. You think it might've been
unintentional."

Remus bites his lip. "I mean, he is weird about Regulus. Never shuts up about him, you know that;
talks about him even more than you do, at this point, and you're his brother. I think… Well, I think
that maybe he really, really likes Regulus, and he's a flirt, and he enjoys making his favorite people
happy, and maybe…things got out of hand…"

"Unintentional or not, it's still not fair to him," Sirius snaps, tipping his head towards Regulus, who
sits silently in his chair, wishing he could shrink away and disappear. This is clearly not the first
time Sirius and Remus have discussed this topic. "It's always—oh, well, the gay guy knows he's
straight, that's his fault for getting his hopes up, but fuck that. James knew he was gay, and he still
—"
"Right, no, I know, and I agree," Remus cuts in, "but you know as well as I do that James doesn't
set out to hurt people, not ever, and especially not the people he cares about. Not the people you
care about, too. He knows how important Regulus is to you—"

Regulus flushes, stupidly, feeling his chest grow warm.

"Exactly! And I told him to leave Regulus alone," Sirius grumbles, frowning in clear frustration.
"He acts like I don't know he's been doing the exact opposite. He gets so shifty every time I bring
Regulus up around him, fucking unsubtle little shit—"

"God, he's so painfully obvious," Remus says with a wince. "I don't know, I think it's also because
—well, he's surrounded by queer people, literally everyone he knows is queer—and think about it,
everyone he knows that's queer, he either knew before they came out, like you, Lily, and Peter, or
he met as a part of a couple already, like me with you and Mary with Lily, or as someone who
wouldn't be interested in him at all, like Marlene. Regulus is the first person that would be
interested in him, and made his interest quite evident, and is available. There was room for the
flirting and the weirdness to get out of hand, and I honestly don't think he would have expected it
to."

"Well, he's not entirely oblivious," Sirius insists. "I mean, I—I didn't tell him about Regulus'
history, no, but he knows about mine. He's let me cry on his shoulder when I fucked around and got
invested in a guy who only wanted me when he was drunk."

Regulus winces. Oh, that hits a little too close to home at the moment. He appreciates knowing that
Sirius hasn't gone around telling people what made Regulus come running to him, but he really
wishes they weren't having this conversation anymore.

"I feel like I need to track this guy down to shake his hand," Remus begins, while Sirius
immediately looks offended, "for being so monumentally stupid, because his loss is my gain."

Sirius no longer looks offended. He looks pleased. "You don't have to thank him. I had already
gotten over him by the time I met you, but if I hadn't, I would have kicked him to the curb so fast
for you. And, speaking of kicking, this is what kills me about James in all of this, because he
kicked that guy's ass. Like, I cried about it, and James comforted me, and then two days later, I
found out James went and called him a little bitch to his face, then they got into a fight—"

"Wait, James? James James? James Potter?" Regulus asks, baffled.

"Yeah." Sirius sends him an odd look. "Why do you sound so surprised? I mean, I know James is
cheerful and easygoing, but if you piss him off… Well, I guess it would seem surprising, since it's
really hard to piss him off, but not impossible."

Remus hums. "Yeah, the fastest way to do it is hurt someone he cares about, so that's why I'm
kinda skeptical about the idea that he did, with you. I guess… I mean, does he even know?"

"Um," Regulus says. "Yeah, he—he probably has an idea. I told him I didn't need rides anymore,
and I wasn't exactly…nice about it. Which," he adds, turning to Sirius, "that's where you come in. I
wouldn't ask if—I'm not asking for a handout, okay? I have six hundred dollars saved up, and you
can have it, and I'll—I'll pay you back, and it doesn't have to be anything expensive, just something
that'll get me to and from work until I can get something better. This doesn't have to be a big deal. I
don't want it to be like last time—"

"Hey, no. Regulus, no," Sirius says firmly, "that's not going to happen. Nothing like—any of that is
something you have to worry about anymore. I promise you, it won't happen again, not with me."

And, yeah, a part of Regulus knew that, because Sirius is Sirius, and he's the one Regulus ended up
going to in the first place, when everything fell apart. But, still, hearing that is an odd weight lifted
off Regulus' shoulders, especially because it is different from last time, and the only problem that
Regulus was worried Sirius would have revolves around James being his best friend—his lifeline
for many, many years that Regulus wasn't even around for—so for Sirius to say this, it kind of feels
like Regulus can breathe a little better.

Remus is frowning slightly with blatant confusion, flicking his gaze between Regulus and Sirius as
he pets Stella's head. He also doesn't have all the information, clearly, which soothes Regulus
further. It's not like he told Sirius not to say anything to anyone, but Sirius has apparently decided
it's not his business to go around talking about, for which Regulus is thankful. He doesn't want
anyone's pity.

That's one thing Regulus really appreciated about Sirius, when he came to him. Just that Sirius
wasn't acting like he was something pathetic that needed to be coddled; no, he was angry, utterly
furious on Regulus' behalf, and he'd talked to Regulus for the first time in years for all of an hour
before he was offering to go set their old childhood home on fire for him, with complete and mildly
concerning sincerity. Not that he doesn't have stakes in it enough to want to do that anyway, but the
fact that he was explicitly stating he'd be willing to do it for Regulus—well, that felt a lot better
than if Sirius had hugged him, or tried to talk about feelings.

Regulus still remembers that very first phone call. That ridiculous leap of faith, because he was out
of options, and didn't know what else to do. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, bankrupt, and
entirely unaware that he was about to encounter riches he never had before.
"Sirius? Is this—hi, um, is this Sirius?"

"If you're selling something, no. If you're a bill-collector, also no. If this is about extending a
warranty, definitely not. Anything to do with a criminal record, I have bad news, he's dead and no
longer available ever again."

"No, none of those things."

"Oh, well, yeah, this is him. Who's this?"

"It's—um, sorry, this is—I know this is weird—"

"You sound like you're crying. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I—well, no, actually. This is—it's Regulus. Um, Black. Your—ah, do you remember me?"

"What? No fucking way! Regulus? Reggie, that's you?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Shit. You sound—so grown? Fuck."

"Yeah. I'm—yeah, well, I'm twenty-one. Have been since—"

"January 8th. I know. I remember. Of course I remember."

"Right."

"Right. Yeah. So… I mean, not that you can't call, but—wait, how did you even get my number,
actually?"

"Uncle Alphard sent it to me on a postcard before he passed, and I—I'm sorry, I didn't know who
else to call—didn't have anyone else to call, or anywhere else to go, so I just—"

"Where are you?"

"What?"

"Where are you? I'll come get you."

"I—Sirius, I still live back home. You can't just—"

"I'll see you in twelve hours."

And that had been that. Sirius had indeed shown up twelve hours later—actually a little under,
because he was speeding the whole way there, not because he was rushing, but because he speeds
everywhere he goes. He'd traveled across two whole states and pulled up on his motorcycle in a
leather jacket, with an extra helmet, and a million or so questions, most of which Regulus answered
over breakfast in the same twenty-four hour diner he'd been stranded in all night, the servers taking
pity on him and throwing him sympathetic looks when he kept telling them that someone really
was on the way to him, which—in retrospect—probably seemed a lot harder to believe when he
didn't sound too sure of it himself.

It's something that weighs heavy on Regulus' chest to this day, one of his biggest regrets, because
Uncle Alphard reached out to him before he died, asking him to get in contact with Sirius, hoping it
would help him cope and heal after Alphard was gone.

But Regulus didn't.

For five years, he didn't, not until he had no other options.

And the worst part is, Sirius knows that. Sirius knows, because Regulus told him in the very first
conversation that he'd had his number since before Alphard passed, since he was sixteen years old.
And he didn't call. And he didn't plan to, ever. And, though they've never explicitly discussed it,
Sirius knows Regulus never would have if he didn't need him. And, despite that, Sirius still showed
up.

It's fucked. It's a knot of guilt in Regulus' chest that never goes away, because Sirius didn't even
hesitate to help him get on his feet. Spent a lot of money to do it, too. Never even batted an eye, or
complained, or made any demands. When Sirius needed Regulus, he wasn't there, but when the
tables turned, Sirius was.

Regulus feels like he'll never be able to make up for it, for his biggest regret, his biggest mistake.
He wishes all the time that he could turn back the clocks to pick up the phone at sixteen, instead of
scoffing and tossing the postcard in the bottom of a drawer that he wouldn't open again for years,
until it suited him. All because Walburga and Orion said Sirius was a disgrace, a stain on the
family, a deviant heading straight for hell—and Regulus believed them. It was all he heard his
whole childhood. Of course he believed it.

Sirius had a really hard life, being kicked out at only fourteen, and then Alphard got cancer when
he was sixteen. Sirius dropped out of school at eighteen to take care of him, to make his last little
bit of life as comfortable and full of joy as he could, because when the rest of the family turned
their backs on him, Alphard took him in. Sirius said that Alphard had told him not to drop out, but
Sirius did it anyway, got his GED, and basically played nurse and eventually hospice nurse
towards the end. It's a hard thing, seeing someone you love die, especially to cancer, which is
brutal in and of itself. Sirius loved Alphard like a father, so when he lost him, it fucked him up
pretty bad. All Alphard wanted, before he died, was for someone to be there for him, a sense of
family in the form of a brother, and Regulus didn't care. Regulus didn't even consider calling.

Why would he? Back then, he had it made. His life was perfect, he thought. He'd given his life
away to god, praise be his name, and was paid in riches and approval from his parents. He would
someday go to heaven, and life already felt like heaven, so what could go wrong? Getting caught
up with an estranged, disowned brother occasionally implied to have been possessed by demons
would surely only lead him further from the light, right?

Regulus' delusions back then make him cringe now when he thinks of them. He was so—just so
seeped into it, all of it, so far in that he didn't even know anything existed outside of it. He can still
remember that fresh, hard-hitting panic the first time his stomach swooped when a boy's hand
brushed his in the middle of choir practice. And, afterwards, only seventeen and hitting his knees
late at night to pray for god to remove temptation from his life.

God must not have heard him.

Thinking about James, Regulus concludes that god definitely didn't hear him.
"Regulus," Sirius says, and Regulus jolts a little, blinking at him. Sirius frowns. "Hey, don't—you
don't have to worry about this being like last year, okay? I mean it. I'm not going anywhere."

Now why would he say that? What the fuck is Regulus supposed to do with that? Not only does he
not really deserve it, considering that he wasn't there for Sirius, and basically came to him only
when he needed to use him, and is still using him—but it's also not really earned. Because, see,
when Regulus wasn't there, James was. Every step of the way, James was fucking there.

Fuck, Regulus feels like shit. He should have never entertained James. Shouldn't have risked it, not
Sirius, especially after last year. Not when that's a slap in the face to Sirius, who told him not to do
it.

Sometimes, Regulus thinks that he's too conditioned to worship. For a long time, that applied only
to god and his parents. These days, it's Sirius, and Regulus has enough self-awareness to recognize
that. In fact, it's very blatant. Sirius essentially saved him, and so Regulus takes everything he says
like it's the word of god. The idea of failing him, disappointing him, feels just as bad as sinning
used to.

"I'm sorry," Regulus says weakly, because that's all he can say, because this is not getting on his
knees and begging for forgiveness, and Sirius is not god, and Sirius can't absolve him.

"Stop that," Sirius replies in mock-sternness, waggling a finger at him playfully. Almost like he
knows exactly where Regulus' head is at the moment, he softens and says, "This, too, shall pass."

"You know, that's not even in the bible," Remus says conversationally, and they turn to stare at
him.

"Corinthians," Sirius says, squinting.

"No, it was about Solomon," Regulus corrects, and Sirius turns to squint at him even harder. "The
ring, remember? The engraving?"

Remus snorts. "It's from a 13th century Persian Sufi poet. Or, at least, I'm pretty sure. Could be
wrong, but…"
"Huh." Regulus blinks. "Well."

Sirius hums, lips twitching. "Yeah, uh, don't look at me. I haven't picked up a bible since I was,
like, fifteen. Pretty sure it'd burn me if I tried. They wanted me to swear on it once in court, you
know, and I told them that, but…" He frowns. "They didn't find it funny."

"Personally, I think that's very funny," Remus says with a fond little smile, reaching out to pat
Sirius' hand.

"Uncle Alphard did, too," Sirius says, no longer disgruntled. "He always laughed when I told him I
couldn't go into church because I'd burst into flames. Or, at the very least, sweat profusely."

It takes Regulus a second, and then a laugh tumbles out of his mouth against his will, a startled one
that makes Sirius grin. "Wait—"

"Yeah, because of the saying," Sirius confirms. "Sweating like a whore in church. Get it? I'm the
whore."

"See, it was funny, and then you explained it, and it stopped being funny," Regulus tells him.

Remus clicks his tongue and shakes his head, patting Sirius' hand again when he swivels to pout at
him for, apparently, not being labeled as the funniest person in the room at all times. The height of
insults to him, truly. Regulus thinks, maybe, he's the best person in the room at all times, and
doesn't even know it.

This becomes apparent later when Sirius does indeed take him to buy a car. Again, not even batting
an eye. Regulus is the one who has to limit the price range, because Sirius is flagrantly in support
of Regulus just—getting whatever he wants. Well, that's not exactly true. Sirius is a automotive
expert, so he wants to inspect and test drive every single thing Regulus picks out, checking brakes
and tires and listening to the engine, completely unashamed in telling Regulus he can't have a car
simply because it'll fall apart soon enough and isn't worth the money that would be wasted on it.

Honestly, having a mechanic for a brother really comes in handy.

Either way, Regulus gets a little two-seater that Sirius cheerfully calls a 'buzz-buzz' car. But it gets
Sirius' approval, and Regulus can cover half the down payment, swing the car payments and
insurance, and be able to pay Sirius back for the rest of the down payment, the cost of insurance,
the tags, the first tank of gas, and all the rest of the stupid things that apparently come with
affording a vehicle, which accumulates depressingly fast.

However, Regulus is pretty sure it's doable, as long as he manages his money right, and he thinks
he's getting better at that, maybe, out of sheer necessity, so he'll take his wins.

"Um, so, I—I should probably mention that I don't actually know how to drive," Regulus mumbles
as soon as Sirius finally tosses him the keys and lets him get behind the wheel.

Sirius, who is in the passenger seat, slowly turns his head to stare at him. "What do you mean you
don't know how? You have a license. How could you not know how to drive?"

"I only got my license as another form of identification," Regulus admits weakly. "I barely scraped
by when I took the test, and that's the only time I've ever driven."

"You're twenty-two years old and you don't know how to drive."

"I didn't have to drive. I had—"

"A personal driver. Yeah, I remember," Sirius mutters with a sigh.

Regulus winces. "I'm—"

"Don't," Sirius cuts in, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a beat, he drops his hand, then sounds
so exasperated when he says, "Do not apologize. This is actually hilarious. I can't believe you
asked me to get you a car when you don't know how to drive. Reggie, do you realize how
ridiculous that is? You're willing to risk life and limb on the road just to get away from James.
That's, like, me-level of dramatics."

"Can you please shut up?"

"Yes, in a moment. Just—you were so insistent on getting a car on your own, so what were you
going to do when you did?"
"Well," Regulus mutters, lips pursed, "I sort of thought I'd learn by that time. Or I'd teach myself.
Or…"

"You were going to ask me, weren't you?"

"You're a mechanic! You're the best person to ask!"

Sirius cackles and unbuckles his seatbelt, reaching for the door, eyes dancing with humor. "Oh,
you sweet summer child, you could not be more wrong. Come on, we have to go pick up Remus,
so he can do it. I'd only teach you how to break the speed limit."

Regulus deflates and leans forward to drop his forehead against the steering wheel, suddenly
feeling like he could cry. Just burst into tears. Or maybe scream. "God, I'm fucking useless. I'm—I
just—I fuck it all up. I ruin everything, and I don't know how to do anything, and I don't know what
I'm supposed to be doing, and I—"

"Regulus," Sirius murmurs, and he places his hand flat on Regulus' back, a warm weight of
comfort.

"What?" Regulus mumbles miserably.

"You're none of those things," Sirius says. "You're twenty-two."

"So?"

"So, that's what all twenty-two year olds feel like. Honestly, that's what I still feel like, and I'm
getting closer to twenty-five every day, regrettably. This is not the end of the world, okay? I
promise. Calm down. Relax. Breathe. Enjoy it, even. You're only this young and fumbling for so
long, then you're old and pissed off about it."

"So, basically, life always sucks."

"Yeah, pretty much."

Regulus lifts his head with a sigh. "Great."

"But hey," Sirius chirps, clapping him on the shoulder, "it comes with good music and good food
and good people, sometimes, so it's got its perks. You just gotta take it as it comes, ya know?"

"Not really," Regulus admits.

Sirius squeezes his shoulder, then drops his hand. "Take the good times with the bad, is what I'm
saying. You get them both, and they all teach you something. Like right now. It's a shitty time, but
you're about to learn to drive, and even when things get better, you'll still know how to get
anywhere you want to go."

Well, when he puts it like that, maybe life isn't so bad after all. Or, maybe it's Regulus taking
Sirius' word as gospel again. Maybe it doesn't matter either way, because it makes him feel better.

On the bright side, Remus is an excellent teacher, and by the end of the day, Regulus knows how
to get anywhere he wants to go.

There's something fitting about the fact that the first place Regulus drives to is Sirius' house, to
drop him off at home with Remus riding the motorcycle behind the whole way. They loiter around
outside for a bit, and Sirius gives Regulus an extra keychain he had lying around in the house,
looking heartwarmingly proud about it, all of it, Regulus having keys and a car and learning how to
drive, and maybe it's stupid, maybe it's silly, and maybe things are shitty in some ways, but
Regulus can't deny that, for all that there's some bad, there's a lot of good wrapped up in it, too.
Scraping the bottom of the barrel, yet so fucking rich, and he wouldn't trade any of it for the
world.

Sirius and Remus tell him goodbye, then they go inside, walking hand-in-hand, and Regulus drives
home.

It feels like, maybe, he's actually getting somewhere.

After that is the moping period. The heartbreak era, if you will.

Understandably, Regulus hates this part.

Usually, he allows himself more time for this, but he really only has one day this time, because he
goes back to work on Wednesday. He was too busy on Monday for it to truly settle in, so it seems
that Tuesday will hold the brunt of…basically all of it.

Regulus mopes. He rereads old messages between him and James, and takes note of the fact that
James hasn't messaged him since Saturday, when he said he'd come pick him up from his double
shift, and then didn't. Hours are dedicated to scrolling back and back to scan conversations, reading
them with the same dissection as he did when they were happening, feeling fucking insane as he
comes across all the blatant flirting, the heart emojis, the 'baby's and occasional, even more
devastating, 'love'.

It's all right there, and not just that, but the random selfies James would send him, cheesing into the
camera, or that one picture of a flower he sent just because he 'thought Regulus would like it', or
the ridiculous overflow of memes that honestly should have cemented James as a straight man,
because none are even funny, realistically, and half of them are about sports.

Regulus should not cry about any of this. Shouldn't cry into his pillow, or in the shower, or take his
new car cautiously up the road to buy chocolate Cheerios just so he can cry into a bowl of them,
too. He definitely shouldn't do any of that, because that would make him pathetic, and terribly
human. But he does. What's offensive is that he cries about those damn sports memes, too, right
along with the rest, and fuck James Potter. Fuck him. God, Regulus hates him, and hates his own
phone for containing so much of him within it.

That's not even considering the video.

Yeah, that one.

The one Regulus most definitely should not watch and get off to, and he knows that, so maybe he's
a masochist, because he does it anyway. Not just once. Not even twice. No, he does it
approximately three different times on Tuesday, and hates himself after each one.

God, he really is pathetic.

Or, maybe he's just twenty-two.

What comes next is—new.

Regulus hasn't had his brother around to meddle in his life the times before, so of course it's new.
Everything with Sirius is uncharted waters, including his apparent decision to extend help that
Regulus didn't ask for, and definitely doesn't want. Especially not about this.

Everyone at work is startlingly nice about Regulus getting a car. It surprises him a little when all
those on shift genuinely congratulate him and crack jokes about moving up in the world that,
despite the words, aren't facetious in the least. They're—happy for him.

One thing about working in this industry, Regulus has learned, is that some coworkers foster a
sense of solidarity so simple and real that it doesn't matter age, background, or lifestyle; you'll start
to feel something like a family after a while, if you stick around long enough, or—at the very least
—like friends. He sees a lot of these people multiple days a week, multiple hours a day; he learns
things about their lives, their habits, their pasts and their presents and their dreams of the future—
and, inevitably, they learn about him too, despite his best efforts to mostly stay to himself.

Pandora is, by far, his favorite. When he wants to bitch about customers, she's the person he
immediately goes to, ducking his head and muttering in her ear while she throws her head back and
laughs. Regulus is pretty sure he's her favorite, too. She seeks him out a lot and is always helpful,
so he helps her as well, and more often than not, they sneak into the back to share something small
to eat when they're too busy to sit down and actually enjoy a meal, catching it where they can.
Regulus has seen Pandora talk with her mouth full many times at this point, usually while he's
stuffing half a sandwich in his mouth and ignoring how it's bad manners, and his mother would go
ballistic if she could see him doing it, because honestly, there's rarely any time to eat delicately.

A couple of times now, Pandora has actually asked him if he wanted to hang out after work, or on
Tuesday, because they both have it off, but Regulus has had to refuse due to having no ride and not
wanting to put James out, or not wanting to miss time with him. However, now that he has a car, he
can technically go do things with her, which she points out, and he…doesn't refuse this time. It's
new. He's never really had a friend before. The kids around his age in church didn't really count, he
doesn't think, because a lot of them were in a little clique he wasn't welcome in, due to the fact that
they were doing things they shouldn't, and Regulus' father was the preacher, so they likely viewed
him as a liability.

Oh, if only they knew.

Anyway, Regulus really does like Pandora, so…sure. Friendship. Maybe he'll have better luck with
this than literally everything else.

There's plenty of moments to talk to Pandora on Wednesdays, because they're usually slow—
though, no one ever says this out loud, or quiet, because that's just begging the universe to send in a
rush so nonstop and devastating that everyone on shift has to go hide in the freezer at some point to
take a breather and remember they're human. Regulus had to learn this the hard way. The first
Wednesday he worked, he remarked that it was slow, and he was public enemy number one for the
whole day, because it took maybe twenty minutes before the whole restaurant filled up, all at once.
Needless to say, Regulus hasn't made that mistake again.

So, Regulus is indeed talking to Pandora—or listening to her talk about her cat—when Marlene
comes out of the kitchen and leans up against the counter next to him, interrupting Pandora mid-
sentence to say, "Hey, I have a guy coming up here to meet you."

Regulus, at first, doesn't realize that Marlene is talking to him, as he has no idea why she would be,
considering what she said, and then he realizes she is when he looks up to find her and Pandora
both staring at him expectantly. He blinks and instinctively says, "No thanks."

"Well, he's already coming." Marlene shrugs lazily. "So."

"I—wait, why? What about?" Regulus asks, not at all understanding.

"I mean, fuck if I know. Sirius didn't give me all the details; he just asked if I knew anybody I
could hook you up with," Marlene says, crossing her arms loosely. "I did, so he's on the way."

Pandora gasps. "Oh my god, that's perfect!"

"I—what? It is?" Regulus asks, barely with any conviction, too busy absolutely reeling from what
Marlene has just said.

"Yeah! This place breeds love stories. I met my boyfriend here, you know," Pandora tells him.
"Want to see?"
Marlene rolls her eyes, exaggeratedly.

"Um, sure," Regulus says weakly, because at least that will give him some time to figure out he can
tell Marlene that the last thing he wants is to be hooked up with someone, and then gather the
courage to step out back and leave Sirius a very scathing voicemail. Pandora fishes out her phone,
taps away on it, smiles down at it, then lifts it and shows it to him. He blinks. "Pandora, that's a
mugshot."

"I know. They got him for identity theft, impersonating a police officer, and evading arrest,"
Pandora says with a dreamy little sigh, turning the phone back around to gaze down at it fondly.
"Long distance is a bit difficult to manage, but we make it work."

"That's not long distance." Marlene snorts. "Barty's definitely not somewhere you can't reach him.
He's in prison for five years, and it's a prison on the edge of the city limits, so I'd say it's more…
short distance, unfortunate sentence."

Pandora waves a hand. "Semantics. My point is, this place is a nexus for eros—and, well, also
philia, I guess, but that's besides the point."

Sometimes, Pandora talks, and Regulus has no earthly idea what the fuck she's saying. Who the
hell is Phil? What's a nexus? What does any of this have to do with Sirius having his friend play
matchmaker for Regulus, who absolutely does not want that at all?

"McKinnon!" Dorcas snaps, appearing with a clipboard in hand, and a glare hovering behind her
glasses.

Marlene doesn't jump at Dorcas' harsh approach. She remains lazily propped up against the
counter, breaking out into that grin she gets when Dorcas is around. "Hey, boss, doin' alright?
Looking gorgeous as ever, if not, so you've got that going for you at least."

"One," Dorcas begins, clicking her pen, "how many times have I told you to take that tongue ring
out? You know it's not a part of the dress code, you're not supposed to be wearing it, so remove it
—"

"Aw, but you love my tongue ring," Marlene argues with a fake pout, though her eyes gleam.
"Gotta say, you're really sending me mixed signals here, since my tongue ring definitely helped
you—"
"Two," Dorcas continues sharply, "Dearborn says you didn't restock any of the bar for him
yesterday, so you have to make sure you do that before you clock out, and you can't forget—"

"Mm, it's not my fault you were walking around back there, and I got so mesmerized by the way
your hips were swinging that I was all but compelled to follow you right out the door without even
caring about what I did or didn't do before I left," Marlene says with faux solemnity, reaching her
hands out in front of her about the width of Dorcas' hips, then rocking and swaying her own body
to mimic the apparent swing of Dorcas'. "It was hypnosis. Not my fault, you see?"

"Three," Dorcas carries on, not giving Marlene an inch, or even entertaining her antics, "this is not
The Bachelor, or Love Island; none of us are here to fall in love, or meet hookups; we are all here
to work, Marlene, nothing else, so inviting someone here for—"

"Oh, wow," Marlene breathes out, "you actually said that without a fucking stutter. God, you're
bold. That's so hot. You're so—"

"That's blatant and inappropriate insubordination, Marlene, I will write you up again," Dorcas
warns, and Marlene chokes on a laugh, biting her lip. Dorcas swivels to face Regulus, scowling.
"I'm sure you're not to blame for this—Marlene's doing, no doubt—but this really isn't a social
mixer or a place for speed-dating, not when you're working, so it can't happen again, am I
understood?"

Regulus almost asks her if those sorts of things are saved solely for the dry stock, or if that's
explicitly for sex, and boxes of ketchup packets. Wisely, he doesn't. He just nods, feeling rather
agitated that he's getting reprimanded for something he has nothing to do with in the first place, by
his hypocrite of a manager at that.

"Good. Now back to work, all of you," Dorcas orders sternly, clicking her pen and hiking her
clipboard higher before swiveling on the spot to march away, head held high.

"My god, I hate to see her go, but damn do I love to watch her leave," Marlene mutters in a strained
voice, head tipped to the side to watch Dorcas' departure. She makes an appreciative mm mm mm
noise, then straightens up. "Right, well, that's my cue to go bother her. You two have fun. Roger,
I'll be out here later when my friend shows up."

"Wait, but I—" and Regulus stops talking, because Marlene is already gone, trailing after Dorcas
like no one else exists.
"Who's Roger?" Pandora asks, and Regulus' shoulders slump.

Marlene's friend shows up hours later, right at the end of Regulus' shift, so he's actually led into a
false sense of hope that maybe he just won't come at all, but then Marlene comes out of the kitchen
to actually help him refill salt and pepper shakers on the table so he can get done faster and come
meet her friend who's about to come in. Regulus does not find a polite way to tell her to fuck off
before she's leading him towards the lobby to meet—

Oh. Wow. Okay.

Listen, Regulus was crying about James Potter only yesterday, and is stupidly in love with him, so
he's very aware that getting involved with anyone else would not only be pointless and extremely
unwise, but also excessively unfair to the other person—but, with all that being acknowledged, this
is a very beautiful man. Jesus Christ.

He's maybe an inch or so shorter than Regulus, with deep brown skin and short, cropped black
waves on his head, one ear containing a small, gold hoop earring, and teeth so white in a smile
that's so lovely that Regulus is briefly dazed upon laying eyes on him for the very first time. He's
dressed casually in jeans and a crisp white shirt that hugs his upper arms in a rather unavoidable
way. Regulus feels like a fucking idiot standing there in a strained apron.

"Roger," Marlene says, a hand on his shoulder as she gestures to her friend, "this is Kingsley.
Kingsley, this is Roger. Have fun."

And then, with that, and only that, she sweeps off.

Kingsley chuckles and points at Regulus' name tag. "Either Marlene is spreading misinformation
again, or Roger is an inside joke."

"Oh, I—" Regulus glances down, then back up, grimacing. "No, I think she actually thinks my
name is Roger. I never really get the chance to correct her, and at this point, I think it's too late.
But, um, yeah, I'm—my name is Regulus."

"Nice to meet you," Kingsley says, offering his hand.

Regulus reaches out to take it, his brain helplessly pointing out how soft his hand feels, though his
grip is strong and firm in a way Regulus also can't help but appreciate. "It's—it's nice to meet you,
too. I—sorry, this is—it wasn't my idea. I didn't know—"

"Oh, it's okay," Kingsley tells him warmly, when Regulus can't figure out how to finish. He drops
Regulus' hand, still smiling. "No stress, man. I don't have any expectations or anything, I promise.
Marlene has a habit of making things happen without explaining any details."

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Regulus admits sardonically, and Kingsley laughs again. It's—it's a really
nice laugh. "Look, um, I'm kind of still on the clock, and I think my manager might lose her mind
if I ride it while talking to you, but I can explain and—"

The little jingle for the door sounds, and Regulus looks towards it habitually, coming to a halt mid-
sentence in an overwhelming mix of emotions at the sight of James pushing in through the door.

Oh, come on, seriously?

Why is the universe determined to turn his life into a cosmic joke? Why is this happening to him
now? James doesn't contact him for two days, which hasn't happened for at least two months, and
then he just shows up at Regulus' work? For fuck's sake, Regulus really can't catch a break. And, to
make matters worse, James looks relieved as soon as he sees him, picking up his pace to make it
over faster.

"Regulus," James says eagerly, as soon as he's close enough, coming to a halt right next to him like
he doesn't even notice Kingsley standing there at all. "Oh, thank god. I really need to talk to—"

"James," Regulus snaps, tipping his head pointedly towards Kingsley, partially furious that James
thinks he can just—just waltz in here and demand to talk to him and probably apologize, or come
up with excuses, or try to pretend like nothing ever happened, or—even worse—find some way to
start the cycle back over again.

Pretty, straight boys love taking the cycle for another spin, especially if the second time will hurt
even more than the first. Regulus wishes he could say no part of him wants to go for another round,
but. Well, he's pathetic and never learns. Yeah, you know that by now.

"Oh!" James blinks, starting a little as he looks at Kinglsey and instantly shuffles back with a
sheepish smile. "Shit, sorry, I didn't know you were with a customer. Don't mind me."
Kingsley shakes his head and says, easily, "No, hey, it's not a problem. I was actually just about to
get out of Regulus' hair anyway, since he's still working." He focuses on Regulus with that
megawatt, disarming smile of his. "You said you wanted to explain?"

"Yeah," Regulus says weakly.

"No pressure, but you could explain over lunch, maybe?" Kingsley asks, raising his eyebrows. "I'm
paying."

Regulus flushes helplessly, his whole face going hot, prickling all over. No one's ever actually—
asked him out before. Like, for real. In person. Or just, like, at all. It's ridiculously charming.

James makes a low, choking noise, sputtering out, "Wait, what?"

"Actually, that's perfect," Regulus states firmly, loudly, speaking over James, and very
determinedly not looking at him. He's so brave. He's so strong. He's…so fucked up to do this, but
James is right here, and he no doubt feels entitled to Regulus in some way, and really, what's the
harm? Regulus will explain to Kingsley, leaving no illusions to the current state of his life, because
he deserves that at least. "That—yes, that works out great. I can go home and change and…yeah."

Kingsley, with his brilliant smile, says, "You know the cozy, little bistro with the patio on main
street?"

"I do."

"Want to meet there at four?"

Regulus clears his throat, very aware of James' gaze boring holes into the side of his head. "Sounds
great."

"It's a date," Kingsley announces, and James makes another garbled sound that's drowned out by
Kinglsey's chuckle when Regulus blushes once more, against his will. "See you there."
"Yeah, um, see you," Regulus mumbles, backing up at the same time that Kingsley does, heading
for the door. Kingsley leaves with a little wave, which Regulus awkwardly returns, and then James
is throwing his arms up, drawing Regulus' gaze to find him looking severely, undeniably pissed the
hell off.

Oh, Regulus has never seen him look like that before. Upset enough to be angry. It's—he looks…
so fucking good.

Goddammit.

"Regulus!" James hisses, eyes bulging, looking like his head is about to explode. He waves
Regulus back over. Regulus does not go back over. Regulus stays put. So strong. So brave. "Would
you—can you just—just please come here and let me talk to you? I really need—"

"James, I have to work," Regulus grits out.

"Oh, but you had no problem talking to him?" James retorts, nostrils flaring. "Are you actually—so
you're going to—"

"What's it to you?" Regulus demands harshly. "Nothing, and we both know it."

James' mouth snaps shut with a harsh click. He seems to hold his breath for a moment, then it
explodes out of him, and he takes a step forward. Regulus steps back, and he immediately stops,
lifting a hand to run through his hair. "Please don't—please just talk to—"

"Is this guy bothering you?" Dorcas asks, abruptly appearing at Regulus' elbow, her arms crossed
and her stern disposition up at full blast, intimidating enough that James rears back a little.

"What? No! No, of course not," James blurts out. "I'm not—"

"Really? Because it looks to me like you're harassing him when he's stated clearly that he needs to
return to work," Dorcas declares sharply, and James' eyes fly wide. "You need to leave, sir."

"Wait, wait, hold on, no, it's not like that. I'm his—I'm—" James halts, looking a little lost. "Just—
wait, where's Marlene? I'm her friend. Look, she'll tell you I'm not—"

"Yeah, actually, that doesn't help your case at all. Makes it worse, in fact," Dorcas cuts in flatly,
pointing towards the door, no-nonsense. "Go. Now. Don't make me call the police and have you
banned."

"The police?" James chokes out, looking very alarmed, which is mildly hilarious, considering his
best friend is a past convict. He starts backing up. "Okay, fuck, okay, but—just—Reg, call me, will
you? Or—fuck it, don't even go on the date. Come over to mine instead, and we can—we'll talk.
Okay? Please?"

Regulus groans. "Just go, James, for fuck's sake."

"I am, I swear," James says in a rush, "but are you—will you—"

"Goodbye, sir, have a nice day," Dorcas calls out forcefully, moving forward to pointedly usher
him out the door. She comes back only once he's crossed the parking lot, got in his truck, and
driven away. She's frowning at Regulus, and great, he's in trouble now, isn't he? But, to his
surprise, she reaches out to touch his arm, her voice softening as she says, "I really can have that
man banned, if that's something you need. If he's harassing you—"

"What?" Regulus jolts, horrified to realize that she's being entirely genuine right now. "Oh, wait,
no, James isn't—he really isn't a bad person, I swear. It's not like that."

Dorcas frowns harder. "Are you sure? Because, to me, it seemed like he was a jealous ex-
boyfriend."

Regulus' head spins at the implications, and the mere insinuation that he and James could ever be
perceived in that capacity, as fucked up as that capacity may be. He coughs. "No, it's—we're
definitely not that. You've got him all wrong. He's actually a sweetheart, and we're sort of—or we
were friends. Still are, maybe. Hopefully. We've just had a little…spat. But he's harmless, I
promise."

"Hm." Dorcas relaxes, then nods. "Alright, well, I don't stand for people harassing my employees.
I've seen that kind of stuff before, so I'm cautious. You can come to me if you need to, not
necessarily about him, but anyone. I do not tolerate that behavior, and that goes for everyone who
works here, on both sides of it. If you see anything like that with anyone else, or if it actually
happens to you in the future, don't hesitate to come get me, okay? I'll handle it."

Regulus blinks, mildly startled to find that…really reassuring, actually. Not because of James, but
because sometimes, customers can get a little pushy in a way that he knows for a fact has made
some people uncomfortable. In the service industry, some people start to only see you as an
extension of what you can give them, and some will take it too far. Dorcas may run a tight ship, but
it's suddenly really clear that she actually, genuinely cares about the people she works with, and has
their back. She's definitely the type of person you'd want to have your back, so it's…really nice.

"Oh, okay, thanks," Regulus murmurs.

"Of course." Dorcas nods, squeezes his arm briefly, then drops her hand. "Now get back to work."

With a helpless huff of laughter, Regulus does just that.

What comes next is a turning point. Two paths converging in a road, and it's Regulus' decision to
choose which way he'll go.

Now, to be honest, Regulus has never chosen the path that ended well for him. Every time, he went
running right back to the pretty, straight boy for another trip on that addicting, destructive cycle.

That was before he had Sirius to think about. It's funny how Sirius outranks even god, because
back then, Regulus was thinking of god and still chose to go for another spin. Sirius also outranks
their parents, because Regulus wasn't stupid enough to not know, deep down, that he was running
the risk of losing them with all that he was doing. He knew, but he just—avoided it. Ignored it.
Told himself time and time again that he was being careful, and they'd never find out, and he'd be
through with all of it soon enough, so they'd never have to know. He could repent, someday, he
thought.

Look how that ended.

Regulus hasn't repented, to be clear. Sirius swears there's nothing he needs to repent for, and these
days, Regulus almost wholeheartedly believes that. It helps that Sirius has a boyfriend, and so
many queer friends, because if the exposure has taught Regulus one thing, it's that there's nothing
hell-worthy about love.
If not for Sirius, Regulus knows he'd be at James' door in a fucking heartbeat. He'd blow Kingsley
off, probably only feel a little bit bad about it, and see how far James would take things this time.
And enjoy every excruciating, wonderful part of it.

Thing is, Regulus thinks Sirius is probably the only person in the world who has never hurt him,
not on purpose, or even accidentally. Yeah, being estranged really hurt in the beginning, and
Regulus did sort of blame him for that at first, because Sirius would never just do as he was told, so
if he would have simply conformed, then he would have never been cast out in the first place.
Regulus has grown up, though, and had his own experiences and the time to realize that it was
never simple, and Sirius was no more in the wrong than Regulus was. They were just kids. Their
parents are the ones who brought that hurt down on top of them both. It was never Sirius; all he did
was be himself, and dared to ask to be accepted for it, then wasn't.

Regulus has hurt Sirius, on purpose by complete accident, because he was young and foolish, and
did not have the gift of foresight. If he could go back… But, the thing is, he can't. Regulus can't go
back; he can only move forward, and so he can choose, now, not to do anything that would put a
strain on Sirius. Getting caught up with his pretty, straight best friend, knowing it would inevitably
end in a bigger disaster the second time around, would probably add strain.

So, Regulus kicks the whiny part of him that really, really wants to show up at James' door until it's
curled up into a ball, whimpering quietly enough that Regulus can mostly ignore it, and then he
gets presentable and shows up to that cozy, little bistro on main street.

Kingsley is, to put it simply, absolutely wonderful.

Halfway into the meal, he says, "Wait, so, okay. So, you got invested in your brother's straight best
friend, and your brother then asked Marlene to find someone to hook you up with? I have that
right?"

"Yes," Regulus confirms.

"You know…" Kingsley purses his lips. "That's actually kinda sweet? Or, it's well-intentioned, I
guess. Especially because—I mean, we've all been there. We all fall in love with a straight person
once."

Regulus winces.
Kingsley's eyebrows fly up. "Twice?"

Regulus bites his lip.

"Regulus, how many times have you gotten invested in a straight guy?" Kingsley asks.

"I've…never been with someone who wasn't straight," Regulus admits weakly. He lifts his hand
and does air quotes. "Or, well, 'straight'. But, like, always still straight by the end."

"Wait, so you've never been with an out, queer guy?" Kingsley asks, mystified by this.

Regulus gestures at him. "You're the first. Congratulations."

"I'm honored," Kingsley says, lips twitching. "But, I mean, no offense, after the first time, why
would you…?"

"I don't know," Regulus groans, picking at his food with his fork, feeling like a massive idiot and
knowing he is one. "It's like I have a problem. Or a kink. Or—or something. I can't seem to help it."

"You know that saying? Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me?"

"Yeah, I'm very aware."

Kingsley chuckles, reaching up to press his fist to his mouth. "I'm sorry. I swear I'm not trying to
laugh at you. I do feel bad, because it fucking sucks. I've been there. Only once, because I learned
my lesson, but…"

"And here I was, thinking you were nice."

"Hey, I'm very nice. I'm going to make sure your first date with a guy who most definitely isn't
straight is such a good time that you'll never go back to straight boys."
 "I don't doubt that you could," Regulus murmurs. "I just—I feel like I have to make sure you don't
get the wrong idea, because I'm—I'm kind of on the road to nowhere, and I still—there's still that
guy, and all of this happened, like, last week—or, well, it's been going for months, really, and
before that my life kind of fell apart because of the fourth straight guy I got involved with, so it's all
a bit—"

"Regulus," Kingsley says calmly, and Regulus immediately takes a breath and stops rambling.
With a smile, Kingsley puts his fork down and reaches out to cover Regulus' hand across the table
that's currently tearing apart a napkin. "It's okay. This actually really works out, if I'm honest,
because I was trying to figure out how I was going to ask if we could just have some fun, but it not
be a long-term thing. I have a really good job opportunity I can't pass up, and I'll be leaving for
London in about a month. I—well, it'd be really unwise for me to fall in love with someone here
before that, but Marlene needed a favor, and I owed her, so maybe it was meant to be."

"Oh." Regulus exhales, oddly relieved by this. He considers Kingsley, and glances down at his
very soft hand, then looks back up with a crooked eyebrow. "Just some fun, huh?"

Kingsley gives a half-shrug and pulls his hand back, lips curling up, dark eyes bright with mischief.
"If you're up for it."

"Like a fling?"

"Could be."

Regulus hums. "We'll see." He folds his now-free hand under his chin, says, "Now, tell me about
London," and spears a piece of grilled chicken with his fork and pops it in his mouth.

Kingsley breaks out into a broad grin, says, "Okay," then does just that.

Approximately four hours later, Regulus is stumbling into his apartment, lip-locked onto Kingsley,
and thanking his lucky stars that his brother decided to meddle in his life.

Chapter End Notes

ahhhh sirius and regulus are so dear to me i love them so much

and kingsley!!!! oh i love him!!! he's lots of fun and also makes james jealoussssss

speaking of james, i know all of this seems Really Bad, but there is resolution right
around the corner, and he has a side to this story too!! which we will hear more on, i
promise!!!

im a little too busy to manage writing notes at the moment, so this is all ive got! hope
u enjoyed, and ill be back to post tomorrow!!!
 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes

okay so this is the chapter where we get regulus' sad, tragic backstory, and his past
encounters with pretty, straight boys. it's fucked up! so, be warned for that. there's
religious trauma, past internalized homophobia, homophobia from family/parents, and
just blatant use/mistreatment, and being forcibly outed. these are all things referenced
in the past and, honestly, it's been some time since it happened TO regulus, so he's
mostly flippant about it. basically like: i went through a terrible time, my life was
ruined.... but we move

hm. let's see, anything else? some more jealous james, which is always fun. oh!!! and
again, there's a lot of mentions of sex in this chapter. none of it's really explicit, but
still. yeah, i think that's it! regardless of anything, there's still plenty of humor!!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Following that is…unprecedented, because Regulus hasn't been with a guy who was very sure he
wasn't straight before. This is also new, and it turns out to be really, really amazing.

The thing about pretty, straight boys is, when it comes to the sex part of it, there's often not that
much sex at all. Regulus hasn't actually…had sex. Not penetrative, at least. He's given blowjobs,
only a couple, and a few handjobs, as well as frottage a total of twice, one of which was with
James, while the other amounted to the other guy essentially humping his hip to get off.

James is the first man, ever, to actively get Regulus off. All the others, it was always about them.
They never really touched him, which made sense, because why would they want to, as straight
men?

With Kinglsey, there is no such issue, and ya know, lo and behold, Regulus really likes that. Likes
being touched, and wanted, and likes that Kingsley isn't shy about either. He touches Regulus quite
a lot, and clearly wants to, and clearly appreciates that Regulus returns the sentiments. It's fun.
They have fun.

Regulus has never gotten to do all of this before, so he's lost in the freedom of it rather swiftly.
Kingsley is pretty much down for anything, happy to teach Regulus the things he doesn't know, or
figure it out if he doesn't either. Kingsley is the first person to fuck Regulus, and Kingsley is the
first person Regulus fucks, and it's awkward and silly and exhilarating and amazing and fun. They
laugh a lot. Regulus elbows Kinglsey in the nose once, resulting in a nosebleed that halts all
progressions of sex right in its tracks, and they stand naked in the bathroom, fretting about his nose,
which eventually stops bleeding, then return to having sex like they never stopped, all while
Kingsley continuously cracks jokes for Regulus to watch the elbows, until they're both too busy
moaning to laugh.

They laze around basically naked at all times in Regulus' apartment, or Kinglsey's if they end up
there, and they eat before sex; take a nap, then have sex; wake up, have sex; watch a movie, and
have sex; talk, have sex, then fall asleep for the night; and then, the next morning, what do they
do? Yup, you guessed it. Have sex.

Regulus is having so much sex.

As you can imagine, this improves his mood immensely. He's gay, twenty-two, and happens to like
sex, so he's discovering the wonders of it, unhindered with no repression or restraint involved, for
the very first time. Unsurprisingly, things feel like they're looking up.

"Ha! I told you it was a good idea!" Sirius declares triumphantly, clearly pleased to have meddled,
despite Regulus chewing him out for it on a very scathing voicemail before the date with Kingsley.
"I am so smart. I'm a fucking genius. Look at you, three weeks in, and you're thriving! Best way to
get over someone is to get under someone else. A tried and true method, trust me."

Regulus groans and sinks down further into his sofa, a bowl of popcorn cradled in his lap. He
tosses a piece at Sirius, because he doesn't want him to be too boastful. "Shut up."

"You can't deny it. You really like him!" Sirius insists, scooping up the popcorn and tossing it in
his mouth.

"I do," Regulus admits. "He's so—just so lovely, Sirius. And funny. And fun. God, I want to love
him so bad."

Sirius falters, smile slipping. "Want to?"

"I mean, I couldn't anyway because he's moving to London next week, so it's all coming to an end
soon enough," Regulus mumbles, averting his gaze with a wince.

"Okay, but that's not what you meant," Sirius says. Regulus looks at him and grimaces. "Oh, for
fuck's sake. Are you still hung up on—"
"Please shut up, okay? I'm—handling it."

"Are you, or are you avoiding it?"

Regulus blows out a deep breath, tipping his head back against the sofa as his eyes sink shut. He
has no idea how he and Sirius could spend most of their formative years completely estranged, and
yet Sirius still knows him this well. Knows enough to know this about him. Maybe it's because he
did it first. Maybe avoidance and forced flippancy just runs in the family.

Because, yes, Regulus has been avoiding it. All of it, with James. Distracting himself with
Kingsley, who is just so fucking perfect in every single way, but there's not enough time for him to
be anything other than…not James. Maybe if they had more time, it'd be different. Maybe if
Regulus didn't know Kingsley was leaving, he would have worked up the courage to actually face
his feelings and move on.

And it's so stupid, because it's not like he and James were actually anything at all. But, fuck, tell
that to his heart. Tell that to all those shopping trips where the best thing on every aisle was James
Potter's smile, something that could never be packaged or sold in any other form, something that
can only ever belong to him. Tell that to all the time spent together, talking, flirting, joking, and
laughing; so much laughter between them, loud and unashamed in a way Regulus never truly had
before him, not like that, and certainly not that much. Tell that to how it felt to be with him; the
rush of it, and the comfort he got from it, and the way no part of him ever wanted to stop. Tell that
to the part of him, now, that wants to be with him again.

Regulus hasn't seen James in weeks, since he came into Regulus' work trying to talk to him. James
hasn't showed up again. He called that night, twice, and sent four messages asking if Regulus
would talk to him, even if he did go on the date, promising he'd stay up if Regulus wanted to call or
come over. Regulus was too busy getting sucked off for the first time to reply, and afterwards, in
the daze following his orgasm, he somehow found the strength to delete the messages and pretend
like he never even got them. Out of sight, out of mind, right? He never replied.

James has only texted one time since. Four days ago, approximately two in the morning, Regulus
rolled away from Kingsley, who was sleeping deeply right next to him, to pick up his phone and
check it, since it had just buzzed. And there it was.

I miss you.
Just that. Just one message, after weeks Regulus spent having a great time with a really great guy,
who wasn't straight and wasn't playing with his feelings, unintentional or not, and it was two hours
past midnight, making that message resemble you up? territory so much that it should have been
infuriating, at worst, or mildly annoying, at best. It shouldn't have been devastating.

And yet, Regulus slipped out of bed, closed himself in his bathroom, and cried into the meat of his
wrist like it was the end of the world. He typed out so many messages, some so long that he
exceeded the limit, then deleted them all. He almost called. Almost, almost, almost—over and over
and over—then didn't.

All he did, in the end, was prop his arm against the sink, rest his head against it, and breathe. Asked
himself what made James Potter hurt worse than all the other pretty, straight boys, even the one
that ruined his whole fucking life. The only answer he could come up with was that, honestly,
everything with James was unlike the rest.

Regulus was too busy looking at all the similarities to see all the differences, and there were so
many. None of the others cared about Regulus, not really. None of the others actually, really liked
him outside of using him, or treating him like a toy, knowing he'd keep coming back for more, just
to feel like he had something at all. None of the others ever made him happy. Made him laugh.
Made him feel like he'd found a home. The truth is, with all the rest, Regulus never really fell in
love either.

But, with James, he did.

He really did.

"How is he?" Regulus whispers, opening his eyes and lifting his head to look at Sirius, who frowns
slightly. "What? Has he talked about me to you? Did he—he didn't say…anything?"

Sirius squints at him suspiciously. "No, he hasn't. I keep waiting for him to crack and come to me
about it, but he hasn't yet. Why? Is there something I should know?"

"No. Nothing."

"Reggie."
"Nothing," Regulus insists, "I swear."

"Are you sure nothing happened between the two of—"

"Absolutely positive, Sirius, can you just…drop it, please? I was only asking how he is. Which, I'm
not joking, how is he?"

"Well, he's—" Sirius' frown deepens, and he looks genuinely sad, even worried, like a friend would
be. "Truth is, he's pretty fucking miserable right now. I think…not having anything to do with you
has been hard for him. I hope you don't hate him, because he's—he is such a good person. Capable
of mistakes like us all, sure, but I've never known anyone to care about people the way he does. I'm
not saying don't take all the time you need, but he really cares about you, that's for sure, and if you
two could be friends, no hard feelings or anything, it's something special I don't want you to miss
out on."

"I don't hate him," Regulus says softly. "I miss him."

Sirius sighs. "God, you're a lovesick idiot, aren't you?"

"Hey! Fuck off."

"No, listen, so am I. You know, um, Remus and I… When we first started getting involved, there
was a bit of time where we both agreed that dating would be hard to manage since we were both,
ah, working a lot. And, you know, sex work is just—work, most of the time, but it turns out we
both kinda didn't like the idea of the other being with anyone else, even just for work, and neither
of us were at a place in our lives where stepping back was feasible, not financially, or something
we were ready to do, so we tried to take a step back from each other. I was fucking miserable.
James can tell you; I was pining. Just—sad and mopey and yearning and dramatic all the time. A
complete lovesick idiot, kinda like you right now."

Regulus snorts weakly. "Well, clearly it worked out."

"Yeah, we owe that one to Lily," Sirius says warmly. "She was the genius who suggested we only
do porn together until we were ready to quit. I mean, it's kinda hard to maintain a steady income
that way when you're not switching things up with different partners, but we started switching it up
in different ways, which helped. Plus, all our friends would throw on our videos on mute in the
background when they were doing stuff to give us a lot of views."
"Are you fucking with me?"

"No! I swear they did! You will not believe the conversation James and I had to have when I
popped over to his place unannounced one day and walked in on me and Remus just—going at it,
while James was working on his graphic design project at the time."

"Oh my god," Regulus chokes out, not knowing whether to laugh or shrivel up in sheer horror.

Sirius laughs for him, then softens and murmurs, "All I'm saying is, I don't think it's a bad thing
that we get lovesick, ya know? Maybe it comes from not having the love we needed when we were
kids, but I think it's—it's good that we love until we're sick with it, instead of not loving at all."

"Do you think…?" Regulus halts, then swallows. "What about them?"

"Our parents?"

"Yeah."

"You know, I never worked that one out, honestly," Sirius says with a tight smile. "You'd think,
with all the things they'd preached about, they would have. Love's everywhere in the religion,
right? Love thy neighbor. Hate the sin, love the sinner. For god so loved the world… Love, love,
love." Sirius' mouth twists bitterly. "All the studying they did of that damn bible, and I'm not sure
they ever learned that part. If they did, they never gave any of it to me."

Regulus' heart clenches. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Uncle Alphard more than made up for it, and it's not like they gave it to you either, not
as they should have," Sirius says quietly. He gives a lazy shrug. "It's not on you, Regulus."

"That's not what I meant," Regulus rasps, a lump forming in his throat. He looks down at the bowl
of popcorn, unable to look at Sirius, feeling ridiculously tight on the inside, guilt strangling him
from within. "I was—like them. Before. About you. I—I didn't give it to you either when I should
have, until you gave it to me when no one else would. I'm—Sirius, I'm really fucking sorry."
"Hey, stop that, come on," Sirius mumbles, voice a little thicker than before as he reaches out to
nudge Regulus with his elbow. "That's not fair. Not to you, not to me. You were a kid. You think I
never felt like shit that you were still there, in all of that, and didn't even know me? But I was a kid,
too. And we're alright now, okay?"

"Yeah?" Regulus asks, discreetly scrubbing at his face.

"Yeah, Reggie," Sirius says. "We're alright."

And, like he always does as of late, Regulus decides to take his word and believe him. They do feel
alright, so that helps. Coincidentally, feeling alright with Sirius helps make the rest not feel so bad.
His life is a mess, he's twenty-two, and he has no idea what the fuck he's doing basically ever, but
maybe that's alright, too.

Despite the conversation with Sirius, and the acknowledgement that Regulus has been doing his
usual avoidance routine, he does not get his shit together about James. In fact, you could say he
pulls out all the stops to further run in the opposite direction.

There is yet another party, one Sirius insists Regulus must attend, regardless of personal
reservations, because one, it's Halloween, and two, it's working as a dual party for that and Sirius'
birthday, three days in advance, since Sirius will be working on the day of. Regulus doesn't want to
go because obviously James will be there, and he has no idea how that will go, and he has exactly
zero trust in himself if resisting James is something he'll be required to do.

"Which is where I come in," Kingsley surmises, giving him a wry, but no less fond, look from
where he's lying on his back on the bed, fully nude with an equally nude Regulus sprawling half on
top of him.

"Which is where you come in," Regulus confirms. "I just think it would be a lot easier to…enjoy
myself if you're there."

Kingsley hums, eyeing him speculatively as he blinks innocently and draws lazy shapes on his
chest. "Regulus, I think maybe you're using me to avoid your problems, not that I haven't been
happy to help with that—more than happy, you could say—but I leave the day after, and I think a
group setting would be the best place for you to, ya know, begin to acclimate and…well, face your
problems."
"Don't be sensible. Don't do that," Regulus complains, dropping his head down to beat his forehead
against Kinglsey's chest.

"You're really that worried you'll get involved with him again?"

"If he so much as crooks his finger, I'm going."

"Jesus," Kingsley mutters. "It can't be just the whole straight boy thing. There's no way. Is it really
that?"

Regulus lifts his head and props his chin on his forearm where it's lazily draped over Kingsley's
ribs. "With James? No. I mean, maybe to begin with, sure, but I went way past that a while ago, I
think. But that can't change that he is straight. You'd think after the last time…"

"What happened last time?" Kingsley asks, when he trails off, because the fact that he never learns
doesn't bear repeating. It has been worn out, at this point. "You never really said."

"I—yeah, I don't—I don't talk about it much," Regulus admits, his voice hoarse. He tries to
swallow. Barely manages it. "I mean, Sirius knows. He's…the only one, other than those
involved."

"You don't have to tell me," Kingsley says quietly.

"No, it's—fine," Regulus mumbles and finds, shockingly, that this is true. "You're leaving for
London soon, so that probably helps make it more fine, if I'm honest."

Kingsley chuckles. "Mm, that'll do it. If you wanna unload your deepest, darkest secrets, now's the
time."

"Right, well, this needs…a bit of context. So, um, my family was—is really religious. My father is
a preacher. Like, for as long as I can remember, my parents were always really deep into church,
and not like… Well, you know how some of it's all just—business and politics, in a way? Big
churches and righteous holier-than-thou attitudes? More of a cult and a corporation than simple
faith?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Your parents were like that?"

Regulus clears his throat and drops his gaze. "Yeah, and so was I. Sirius—well, Sirius never was.
He…I don't know, maybe at one time he found comfort in god, but if he did, it was never how they
did it, or thought it was supposed to be done, and they ruined it for him, I think. But that's what we
grew up in, ya know? And, where Sirius veered away from it, I…bought into it, I guess."

"Ah, so you were a good little boy who went to church and read his bible?" Kingsley teases.

"I was a rich, snobby, stuck-up little boy who thought he was entitled to everything and judged
everyone else around him."

"Oh."

"But I did read my bible, so." Regulus sighs. "Anyway, Sirius was dumped on our uncle when I
was twelve, and I didn't see or hear from him again until last year. Our parents thought he was
pretty much damned to hell and didn't want any association with him. Even when my uncle died,
they just—didn't really care, didn't help with the funeral or go, when they got the news. So, I—I
didn't care either. I mean, as far as I was concerned, Sirius was cast out for a reason, and I never
thought past that. My uncle sent me a postcard before he died when I was sixteen with a way for
me to get in contact with Sirius, and I didn't use it for years, but not a day goes by since I did that
I'm not thankful I didn't throw it away. I don't even know why I kept it. I never thought I'd use it,
and I fully believed Sirius was a disgrace, so by all means, I should have tossed it. But I…"

"Just in case?" Kingsley asks curiously.

"I—I don't even think it was that. I just… I mean, when I was kid, before Sirius was thrown out, he
was my best friend, I think. I sort of thought the sun set and rose at his command. Thought he was
the coolest person in the world, which…our parents didn't like, because he was so disobedient. But,
to me, he was just my big brother, and I was so young at the time, so I just—missed him when he
was gone. I, um, kept certain things of his, or ours, and even when I got older, I never got rid of
them. So, I guess when I got that postcard, I kind of just…did the same thing. Like a habit, you
know?"

"That makes sense. It's also terribly cute."

Regulus huffs and lazily swats his chest. "Well, there you go, there's one of my deepest, darkest
secrets." He clears his throat, taking a deep breath, then presses on. "After that, karma decided to
have its way with me. Not that I didn't deserve it, I guess, but you can likely imagine how not fun it
was for me when the hormones started hitting and I realized—woah, boys."

Kingsley busts out laughing, his chest and stomach shaking Regulus up and down. "Oh my god.
Oh, I'm sorry, I'm not—"

"It's okay, you can laugh," Regulus says dryly. "It's kinda funny. I mean, there I was, going about
my business, absolutely sure I was on the fast track to heaven, definitely living my life right, and
then…"

"Woah, boys," Kingsley wheezes, cracking up all over again.

Regulus gives a weak, wry smile. "Yeah, pretty much. I was seventeen the first time I realized.
Freaked the fuck out and doubled down on the praying, asking for forgiveness, begging god to
cure me, all that. And then…Straight Boy Number One."

"Ah," Kingsley says, no longer laughing, "here we go."

"I went into a confessional," Regulus explains. "I thought I was alone. The church was closed. No
one was supposed to be in there. I'd spent the whole day staring at Straight Boy Number One's
mouth, so naturally, I felt like I had to repent. Got into the confessional and started laying it all out
to god, and about halfway in, the door opened and Straight Boy Number One climbed inside."

Kingsley blinks. "Did you…?"

"There was some fumbling. It was dark and cramped and he made it very clear it was only
happening so he'd know what it felt like. I think I spent at least a month after that staring at him
and looking for any sign that it felt, to him, the way it did me. He got a girlfriend later, and never
spoke to me again, so, clearly, it did not."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, I know. Kinda messed me up for a while. I hated myself a lot for what I thought was my
biggest failure in the eyes of god. I swore to myself I'd never do it again, and then, when I was
eighteen, I met Straight Boy Number Two," Regulus says, wrinkling his nose.

"Oh, we hate Straight Boy Number Two."

"Yes, we do. He was the one who taught me that sometimes they just do it for fun. Like, to hurt
you, just because they can. It wasn't even him being closeted or anything, which might've made
things more bearable. He just—noticed me noticing him in school, and decided to fuck with me, all
because he knew I'd let him. And I did."

"Regulus, you have got to work on your self-esteem."

"I was a sheltered, gay kid seeped into harmful religious beliefs, so I'm going to need you to cut
younger-me some slack. Besides, it didn't last long the first time. He got what he wanted, and it
took no time at all. I had a massive crush, hated myself for it, wanted so badly to stop, but couldn't.
He was my first blowjob. Giving, not receiving. It happened in his room when I told my parents I
was going over for bible study, and it happened with the lights off because, according to him, a
mouth is a mouth in the dark, no matter who it belonged to."

"You're joking," Kingsley blurts out, face twisting into a scowl.

"I wish, but no. He wouldn't have anything to do with me after that, at least until he decided he
wanted fuck with me again, and there was a couple of rounds of that before he eventually got bored
of me for good. Meanwhile, I started the cycle of repenting, swearing I wouldn't give into
temptation again, and hoping god would fix me—yada, yada, yada." Regulus sighs, rolling his
eyes. "Anyway, I started college not much later. All paid by my parents, of course. I didn't really
get a choice. I was going to a seminary to become a preacher, and I always knew I would, so I—I
didn't even think about what I would have wanted to do outside of that. I just—went with it."

Kinglsey's eyes bulge. "Wait, for real? You—"

"Yeah," Regulus confirms with a sigh. "And so we meet Straight Boy Number Three. This one… I
do think this one was deeply closeted, like to the point that he didn't even know he was queer. I
never really let the thought form, or wanted it to be true, but I—I did know. Deep down, I knew.
He didn't. So, I don't think he ever meant to hurt me. He was really sweet, actually. My first kiss."

"Your first? Ever? Straight Boy Number One and Two didn't—"
"They never kissed me, no. Barely laid a hand on me, actually."

"That's really fucking upsetting, Regulus," Kingsley whispers. "I wish—I know it's useless now,
but I wish I could go back and give you better experiences."

Regulus half-shrugs and dips his head to kiss Kinglsey's chest. "It's alright. You've definitely more
than made up for it." Kingsley hums in satisfaction, but he still looks slightly displeased, so
Regulus sighs and continues on. This next part isn't so bad. "Straight Boy Number Three was in
college with me. We weren't really friends, but I guess I wasn't as subtle as I thought—being gay, I
mean—because I think that drew him to me. We started texting. It was…intimate, really fast. Not
like friends at all. Then we'd call, and we'd talk about god, and the weather, and then—inevitably
—we'd talk around some hidden secret we seemed to share, always talking in code, like if we didn't
outright say it, we weren't doing it. Wasn't too long before he asked if I wanted to actually have
bible study with him, and I said yes, and we did do that, and then we kissed."

"What happened?" Kingsley asks, frowning.

"He dropped out after that. I found out later that he sent himself to conversion therapy," Regulus
murmurs. "Never heard from him again, or anything about him."

"Maybe…" Kingsley trails off, and he doesn't even need to finish for Regulus to know exactly what
he means.

Regulus gives a sad smile. "Yeah, maybe. For his sake, I hope so."

"There's more," Kingsley says after a long beat. "There has to be, because you're here. Was there a
fourth?"

"That's…complicated," Regulus admits with a wince. This part is very bad. "A couple of years
went by. I was—I thought I was doing better. No more guys. I still noticed them, but I was studying
theology and fully surrounded on all sides by religion, so it—it was almost easy to brush all that
off. I was so sure…" He swallows. Closes his eyes. "On my twenty-first birthday, my oldest cousin
took me out to celebrate. Obviously drinking excessively was frowned upon, but Bellatrix sort of
toed the line on a lot of things, kind of like Sirius, but she wasn't a good person the way he was. Is.
She'd make little exceptions for a couple of things she thought were acceptable, but the things that
she didn't, it was all hellfire and brimstone, you know?"
"Hypocrite."

"Yeah, pretty much. A little bit of drinking and fun was fine. She always said I needed to loosen
up. I'd never had a drink in my life, so it didn't take very long before I was…loose, you could say.
We were in public. There was a guy. Bella went to the bathroom, and I—I made a pass at him. I
just—it had been so long, and I just—I wanted—"

"Yeah," Kingsley murmurs, gently, eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah, I know. Was he Straight Boy
Number Four?"

"We're getting there. To make a long story short, Bella came back out of the bathroom and walked
up on us talking. He did reject me, by the way. Said he was straight, so I guess I have type.
Anyway, I sort of freaked out, because I thought Bella noticed. She was…a little off with me after
that, and she took me home really fast, but nothing happened for a months, so I figured it was
fine."

"It wasn't fine, was it?"

"No," Regulus whispers, "it wasn't. Mother sent me out to the store for something for the church in
June, five months later, and I bumped into the guy. The same one I hit on. I was mortified at first
and just tried to keep my head down, but he recognized me and struck up a conversation with me.
Seemed—interested."

"Ah, shit," Kingsley mutters.

Regulus' lips go thin. His chest feels too small. "I shouldn't have done it. I knew that, but he was
pretty and straight, and I never learn, so I gave him my number, and we—we started seeing each
other in secret. It lasted until September, around four months, but we'd only really meet up in
person a couple of times a month, at most. He was never really…into it, outside of what he got
from it. Typical straight boy stuff, nothing I wasn't already used to, and unreasonably drawn to.
There were a couple of handjobs—again, me giving, never receiving, and once he was turned on
enough to hump me like a dog. The sad part is, that was the highlight of my life at the time. And,
like, excluding the sex part, he had me all wrapped around his finger and thinking we'd actually be
something. He was sweet at first, attentive, and much freer with his affection than any of the
others, so I was fully convinced I was falling in love. Straying further and further from god's light
every day, and a part of me was almost exhilarated by it, which I was ashamed of. Hated myself
again, you know how it goes. Same song, different pretty, straight boy."

"And then?"
"And then… Well, it all fell apart. My parents called me into an office one day in October out of
the blue and asked me if there was anything I needed to repent for. I lied and said no. I was
terrified. I could tell they knew just by how they were acting, and then they had papers printed off
of my text threads with Straight Boy Number Four, and one photo that I took with him, because he
convinced me. I was kissing his cheek in it, so it wasn't like I could pretend it was anything other
than what it was. Turns out Bellatrix had found out, and told my parents, who then—instead of
talking to me, or anything—thought tracking that guy down and paying him off to test me with
temptation and gather proof that I'd strayed from god was a better course of action."

Kingsley bolts up, displacing Regulus, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. "They fucking what?!"

"Yeah." Regulus grimaces and flops on his back, throwing his arm over his eyes so he doesn't have
to see the way Kingsley is gaping at him. "Yeah, that happened. So, um, then they gave me an
ultimatum. I could either go to conversion therapy, or I could get out. I didn't want to go to
conversion therapy, and I begged them not to make me, swore I'd never do anything like that again,
cried, all of it, but they wouldn't budge. I wouldn't either. I wouldn't go, so they—they threw me
out. I had just enough time to grab some of my things, and then that was it. Put out on the street.
Door locked behind me. Nowhere to go and no idea what to do, but that habit of mine… Keeping
all those things dealing with my brother, it saved my life. I still had that postcard, and Sirius still
had his number. He came and got me, and the next day I was here. The worst thing to ever happen
to me and yet, somehow, also the fucking best."

Silence reigns for a long time, and then Regulus feels a solid weight settle next to him, arms
wrapping around him and drawing him closer. It's so—it's so fucking nice, just to be held, to be
comforted in the arms of another man, when he spent years hating himself for wanting that very
thing. He doesn't anymore. It's too lovely, too special, for him to hate it. No, he's not in love with
Kingsley, and he's quite sure Kingsley isn't in love with him, but there is love here.

A part of Regulus thinks god would appreciate that, and most people just don't know it. And, if he's
wrong, and god wouldn't, then he doesn't care anymore. This is worth it. Being free is worth it.

"I can't believe that," Kingsley says softly, lips brushing Regulus' forehead. "They—they paid
someone off to fuck with your feelings, then kicked you out. That's so—Regulus, you didn't
deserve that. No one deserves that. There's nothing wrong with you."

"It took me some time to believe that. Still working on it, actually. It's an ongoing battle, but Sirius
helps. He's—I don't know where the fuck I'd be without him, honestly," Regulus confesses, a lump
in his throat, eyes stinging. "That last guy—that one hurt the most, I think, because he—he was
kind to me. Seemed to care about me. I know now that he was just…getting paid to act, pretty
much, but it meant a lot to me at the time. It was through that that I actually started to realize that
this is who I am, and I can't—change that. I can't change it no more than pretty, straight boys can."

Kinglsey makes a low, choking noise against his temple and says, in sheer disbelief, "And you did
it again. Regulus!"

"I know. God, I know," Regulus whines, tilting his head so they're looking at each other, and
Kinglsey can see how suitably miserable and pathetic he feels about it. "Do you see why I want
you to come to the party and shield me from fucking up? I've literally had a pretty, straight boy
ruin my life, and I still walked right into it again, knowing how it would end, and it's—it's even
worse with James, because he's like the last one, except he's real. He's genuine and sincere. He
cares about me and wants to be my friend, if nothing else, except he's so real that my feelings for
him are, too. I actually fucked around and fell in love this time, Kingsley, and—and I don't—I can't
—"

"Okay," Kingsley cuts in.

Regulus blinks. "Okay?"

"Okay," Kingsley repeats firmly. "Knowing all that I do now, yes, I will go and shield you from the
pretty, straight boy."

"Thank you," Regulus breathes out, sagging in relief. He reaches up and cradles Kingsley's cheek,
brushing his thumb under his eye, his chest panging. "Oh, I really wish I could have loved you."

Kingsley's lips quirk. "You did. There was love here, with us, I think. Maybe not love by the rest of
the world's standards, and not what you feel for James, but love nonetheless. Don't knock it."

"I'm not. You've taught me so much."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Well, for one, I'm never having sex with anyone if they're not going to make me feel good, too.
You've spoiled me."
"Mm, that was the goal. You know, that knocks James out, since he's straight. Hey, did I just solve
your problem?"

Regulus chuckles, helplessly. "Maybe for all the other pretty, straight boys in the world, because I
doubt any could ever amount to you. James, however, is a weird exception. He's gotten me off
before, you know. I mean, he was drunk at the time, but it was all about me. He didn't even want
anything in return. Just…Cheerios."

"Cheerios?"

"I'm telling you, he's such a sweetheart, Kinglsey."

"You're hopeless," Kingsley declares. "What are you going to do after I'm not here to shield you
anymore?"

"Pray," Regulus replies wryly.

Kingsley starts laughing again, and Regulus smiles until Kingsley calms enough to lean in and kiss
him. When he pulls away, his voice is soft as he says, "I think you'll be alright."

"We can hope. As long as I don't do it again, it should be fine."

"If it helps, remember this. Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is
the definition of insanity."

Regulus turns his head to press his face into his pillow, wondering to himself how Kinglsey could
have spent all this time with him and not realize that, the thing is, he's absolutely, unequivocally
insane.

That, at least, isn't something he's ever had to learn. He's almost positive he was born knowing it.
Of all things, that's one that has nothing to do with pretty, straight boys.

No, that one's all on him.

After that is yet another encounter forcing proximity, and Regulus knows from experience these
breed some interesting results.

Regulus shows up fashionably late with Kingsley in tow, not to be fashionably late, but simply
because it started raining bad enough on the way over that Regulus had to pull on the side of the
road, because driving in rain scares the absolute shit out of him. Kingsley had to take over and get
behind the wheel to get them here.

But, eventually, they do arrive.

"Reggie!" Sirius greets cheerfully when he opens the door, clearly quite tipsy already, because he
reaches out to drag Regulus into a back-slapping, frame-shaking hug that makes Regulus wheeze.
They're not really the hugging types, not usually, not with each other. Being estranged kind of puts
a damper on comfortability levels. They're working on it. "Oh! Reggie and co!"

"Hi, Sirius," Kingsley responds with familiarity, and oh yeah, they sort of know each other through
Marlene. Enough to not be complete strangers. "Happy early birthday, and Halloween."

Sirius grins. "Thank you. Where's my present?"

"Here," Regulus says, then holds out the wrapped gift he bought and brought along. "Can we just
give you this and go, or—"

"No, you're both coming in!" Sirius snatches the present gleefully and throws the door open wider.
"Come on, come on, let's have fun! It's going to be so much fun, okay? I promise."

And—and maybe it will be, because Sirius says it, because Sirius is in a great mood and the life of
the party, clearly, and because everything is going well from the start, because James is nowhere to
be found.

Regulus has been here—and in Sirius' life—for a year, shockingly. Sirius came and got him in
October of last year, and Regulus spent approximately three and half months living on Sirius'
generosity, in an apartment he paid the rent for until Regulus got a job. A couple of days after his
twenty-second birthday, Regulus got the job he has now, and met James when he started a week
later, on the seventeenth of January. February through September, six months, Regulus spent time
falling in love with him, and then—ironically—his life fell apart in October all over again. Cycles.
They just go on and on, don't they?

All that is to say, Regulus hasn't had the time or the willingness to meet everyone in Sirius' life (he
really is terrible with strangers, which makes his line of work awfully ironic), other than a few here
and there. Remus, of course, because he's around Sirius all the time. Marlene, through work. James,
through—everything. He's met Peter a couple of times. But everyone else? They're just names he's
heard and photos he's seen, so he's meeting a lot for the very first time, officially. There's Mary,
Lily, Alice, Frank, and Emmeline—all that are happy to meet him, ranging from polite to so
exuberant that it's mildly uncomfortable to warm with simple welcome. It doesn't come as a
surprise to Regulus that all the people Sirius is close to, that he cares about, all those in his life, are
all extremely impressionable people with something undeniably special about them.

It's not bad so far. No one's dressing up, due to some game they all apparently play later where they
have to do some form of charades to tell people who or what they are for Halloween, versus
actually putting a costume together for it, since life doesn't always allow for time or money to get
costumes together. Sirius swears it's a lot of fun, and that's the only reason costumes aren't worn.
Everyone here is very nice, even when Sirius gets distracted talking to Lily and Frank, leaving
Regulus with Kingsley and Peter.

Nonetheless, Regulus takes his first opportunity to drag Kingsley over to Remus, who he's more
comfortable with by this point, and who also happens to be loitering around in the kitchen, where
it's just a little bit quieter, and definitely more secluded.

"Hiding?" Regulus asks when he finds him.

"For as long as I can get away with before your brother drags me back out there," Remus confirms
with a small smile. He holds his hand out to Kingsley. "Hi, I'm Remus. I don't believe you and I
have met yet, have we?"

Kinglsey reaches out to shake his hand, shaking his head. "Nah, not yet. I'm Kingsley. I've heard
about you, though. I've only been around Sirius a few times, and every time, he managed to
mention you."

Remus' smile broadens, eyes brightening visibly. "All good things, I hope?"

"Depends on your definition of good."

"You know, I think I don't even want to know."

Kingsley's lips curl up. "Might be for the best."

Needless to say, Remus and Kingsley hit it off, and Regulus is feeling pretty great, actually,
because they're honestly the two most relaxing people he's ever known. Kingsley has a deep,
smooth voice, while Remus has a soft, steady voice—and, frankly, Regulus has honestly never
been calmer than right now, listening to the two of them talk. Mm, so soothing. His eyelids are
low; he could probably fall asl—

"Ha, bitch, you thought!" The door bangs open and makes Regulus jolt, his eyes flying open as
James comes sprinting at full tilt in the room, a ball tucked into the crook of his arm, his baseball
cap turned backwards on his head and a light sheen glowing on brown skin from clear activity,
looking like the epitome of a pretty, straight, airhead jock—which should in no way make him
more attractive, but Regulus is starting to think he actually does have a kink of some sort, because
that's undoubtedly the single most attractive man Regulus has ever seen in his life, he is sure of it.
"You—what, huh, what are you gonna do, Paddington-boy? Look at me, look at these feet, these
absolute fucking prancers; you see these evasive maneuvers? Oh, oh, which way am I going?
Which—no, not that way; oooooh, what's the matter, birthday boy, have I broken your ankles?"

James has come diving in with Sirius hot on his trail and is now talking shit, rather ridiculously, as
he uses one side of the table to keep evading Sirius, giggling and grinning all the while. Every time
Sirius lunges for the right, James starts for the left, and their eyes stay locked on each other the
whole time. The prize, apparently, is the ball James seems to be refusing to let go of.

"You know what?" Sirius says, then doesn't wait for an answer as he carelessly flings one of the
chairs back and flips the table so hard it skids across linoleum and lands flat on its top with the legs
sticking up in the air, erasing his obstacle entirely.

James yelps and throws himself backwards as fast as he can, which is where, coincidentally
enough, Regulus and Kingsley are currently standing. James backs right up into Regulus, warm and
close and smelling so fucking good that it's actually criminal.

"Shit, sorry, my bad," James says through laughter, turning his head to flash a brief smile at
Regulus, then nearly breaks his fucking neck doing a double-take, his laughter and smile dropping
away from him in an instant. He stops. He just—stops everything, all at once, staring at Regulus as
his chest heaves from the running, standing limply in place when Sirius reaches him and wrestles
the ball from him.
"If you broke our table, you're getting a new one," Remus announces, looking at Sirius with
exasperation.

"Oh, it's fine," Sirius replies lightly, still out of breath. "If not, I'll make James get it. Right,
James?"

James doesn't appear to hear him. He's still looking at Regulus without even blinking, which is—
well, if they weren't in a room full of people, Regulus thinks he'd fuck up and kiss James, just for
looking like that, like a flashing neon sign full of wonder and awe and the want to be kissed,
slapped on like an invitation.

Sirius reaches out and nudges James, in the manner of poking something with a stick to see if it's
dead or not, and James jerks a little, exhaling and saying, "Hight." He immediately shakes his head,
coughing. "Rey. I meant—wait, no. No. Him, right." He points at Sirius, then gestures at Regulus.
"You, hey."

There's a beat of awkward silence, then:

"Hey," Kingsley greets calmly, holding his hand out towards James, who glances at him and seems
to notice him for the first time. He immediately freezes. "I don't think we've officially met, have
we? James, isn't it? I'm Kingsley."

For a long moment, James doesn't move. Doesn't even seem to be breathing. Regulus can see the
cogs turning behind his eyes, clearly thinking fast and hard, and his gaze is fixed so intently on
Kingsley that it's bordering on uncomfortable. The silence stretches.

Then, abruptly, James slaps on a smile that's so blatantly fake it's painful. Wide with too much
teeth on display. Plastic. He surges forward to grasp Kinglsey's hand and begins boisterously
shaking it.

"Yup, that's me! James Potter, the one and only!" James says, very loudly. "Kingsley, huh? Like a
king! Bet you've heard that a lot!"

"Ah, yes—"
"That's great! What a great name! It's so—it's just so nice to meet you, officially, and have you
here. You're—aren't you Marlene's friend? Did you come with her?"

Kinglsey must feel like his arm is about to fall off with how vigorously James is shaking it, but he
just says, "Yeah, I'm friends with Marlene, but I'm actually here with Regulus."

"Oh, greeeeat. Marv—" James' voice cracks, and his smile is so fixed that the words are barely
making it through his teeth. He coughs and tries again. "Marvelous! Just—that's just marvelous. So
glad you're here, man. So glad. Really, really glad about that!"

"Thanks," Kingsley replies. "Can I have my hand back?"

"Oh! Oh, yeah, of course, absolutely," James says, then keeps right on shaking his hand like a
fucking cartoon character.

"Like, now, preferably," Kingsley adds, clearing his throat.

"James," Remus says, softly.

"Right! Right, of course, you can have that." James abruptly drops Kingsley's hand, nodding so
much he looks like a bobblehead. "Back. You can have that back. There ya go. There's—there's
that, for you."

"Thanks," Kingsley repeats, flicking his gaze towards Regulus, who makes a face at him. He has
no idea what the fuck is going on.

"Well." James claps his hands together and steps back. "Well! Yeah! I have to—just, excuse me.
There's…air. Out there. So."

With that, James swivels on the spot and marches right back out of the kitchen, head ducked and
shoulders tight the whole way.

Sirius immediately starts to follow, his eyebrows wrinkled, but Remus catches his arm and shakes
his head. They seem to have a silent conversation with their eyes alone, and though he's frowning
about it, Sirius ultimately gives in and stays put. Remus seems to have to keep an arm around him
to ensure it, but he does do it.

Regulus, on the other hand, does not. He gives it a little bit of time, pretending to be checked in the
conversation with the other three, but when enough time has suitably passed, he mumbles
something under his breath about the bathroom, the others engaged enough in the discussion to not
even bat an eye about him slipping away. He delves into the heart of the party and begins his
search.

One James Potter is located out on the back porch, leaning against the post in the muffled silence
out here. He glances back when he hears the door open, then jerks up straight when he sees
Regulus easing his way outside. He looks—nervous.

Rightfully so.

"What the fuck was that?" Regulus asks, once the door is shut. He doesn't come too close, because
he's trying to be smarter; he keeps his distance as he crosses his arms.

"What?"

"You know what. The way you were with Kingsley. It was really fucking weird, James."

"It wasn't," James blurts out. "I wasn't."

Regulus wants to hit him, and wants to ask him why he looks so scared, and wants to hug him so
maybe he's not as scared anymore. "It was, and it shouldn't have been; you shouldn't have been. I
thought maybe, okay, maybe you'd be a little agitated, maybe a little like someone took your—"
and he can't make himself finish, can't get the words out, can't say James might've reacted like
someone stole his toy, "—I don't know, just not so weird—"

"Don't call me weird," James snaps. "I'm not being weird, Regulus, so just—" He gestures sharply
with both hands, then drops them back down limply, moving closer in his distraction. "I'm trying,
alright? You calling me weird isn't fucking help—" He stops suddenly, jerking to a halt a few steps
in front of Regulus, seeming to realize all at once that he just started closing in. Regulus holds very
still, his mouth incredibly dry, and James blinks at him, then whispers, "Oh, hi."
"Hi," Regulus replies, stupidly. His voice is softer than he means it to be. He can't help it. God, he
really can't.

"How are you? How have you been? How's work?" James asks, and his voice is soft, too. His gaze,
though, is hungry. Eager. Earnest. He's scanning Regulus' face, entirely focused.

"I'm—I've been—" Regulus stops, then finally goes with, "Work has been alright. Mostly the same,
but I've started hanging out with Pandora sometimes."

"The server that pours salt into drinks of rude customers?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

James cracks a weak smile. "You said she was your favorite. So, you two—you hang out now?
You're friends?"

"I—um, yeah, actually," Regulus admits, still not completely sure how it happened, but it has
happened nonetheless. It's odd, but he's never had the opportunity to form connections with people
outside of his family before now. Pandora is the first. Kingsley, too. "And you? How have you—
what have you been up to?"

"Oh, just…" James trails off, still looking Regulus like he can't help it, can't look away, can't look
anywhere else or get enough of looking at him. "Ah, I had a couple of projects to keep me busy.
Graphic design isn't for everyone, I know that, but I really do love it."

"I know," Regulus murmurs, before he can stop himself, because he's heard James babble about
some of his projects before, and his love for his job is palpable. It's not what Regulus would have
expected from him, working mostly only in a virtual setting, not always active or really socializing,
but it is something he's passionate about. It's something that his brain fixates on, a challenge,
something that excites him and stimulates his need to throw himself into things. Yes, he's athletic,
and he loves being busy and doing things, but for all his silliness, he's ridiculously smart, and
thrives in environments that allow him to really use his brain. Regulus doesn't know much about
the profession himself, outside of what James has told him, but he always liked listening to James'
excitement about it. He also used to secretly appreciate that it was due to James' profession,
working from home, that he had the free time to give him rides.

Even after everything, Regulus still appreciates it. Appreciates all that time they had. All the
moments. He wouldn't erase any of it, or replace it with anything else. He wants to keep it all, and
have more.

"How's the new car? Do you like it? Does it ride better than my truck?" James asks, scanning
Regulus' face and lowering his voice and turning this into something it shouldn't be, something it
can't be, something it probably really isn't. Something intimate.

"No," Regulus mumbles, swallowing. "I mean, I do like it. I like driving. It just—it's not…your
truck."

"You can drive my truck, if you want," James says, which is silly, and nonsensical, and ridiculous,
but his eyes are wide and sincere and he's so close now, too close, and looking at him like—like—

"Stop looking at me like that."

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like that," Regulus whispers, something inside him quivering and tumbling down like a stack of
dominos, scattered pieces at James' feet, knocked over by the huff and puff of a man breathless the
closer he gets, eyes sparkling behind his glasses, lips parted, utterly enamored with no reason to be.
No reason. Not one.

God.

God, he's so—he'll send Regulus right back to his knees, praying to an entity that has never heard
him before to fucking cleanse him. Cure him of this disease. Not being gay, but wanting a man
who doesn't want him, but almost seems to, and that—the simultaneous precipice of mistreatment,
and of being someone's false idol, is a temptation too strong to resist. Regulus is fucking pathetic
for it, that knife's edge between worship and blasphemy.

"Like what? Like I miss you?"

"James, stop—fucking stop it—"

"Why?" James snaps, apparently pissy about it. Agitated now, for real. Scowling a little with a
wrinkle of frustration between his eyebrows that Regulus aches to smooth away with his thumb.
Look at him there in his stupid fucking hat, backwards on his head, jaw clenched and the collar of
his shirt loose and faded, slipping down to reveal the divots of his collarbones that Regulus wants
to lick into, and James is still just—even upset, he's looking at Regulus like he'll never look away.
"What, so—so even me just looking at you is too much now? That's not fair. You're not being fair.
I've been trying, okay, trying really fucking hard, but I just—I mean, fuck, even my eyes are too
pushy? Really? Like I—Like I can control that—"

"What?" Regulus asks, baffled. "James, what? What are you talking about? What the fuck are you
even—"

"Because you fucking—you called me weird, you're saying I'm being weird, and fuck you for that,
actually, because you wouldn't have before—before your stupid—" James laughs like it's leaving
him acidic, eating through them both, "—stupid fucking boyfriend—"

"James—"

"Why are you even here?"

Regulus rears back, gobsmacked, admittedly stung.

James holds both arms out. "What are you doing here, Regulus? Huh? You come out here and you
look at me the way you do, and you leave behind your stupid fucking boyfriend to come out here
and look at me the way you do, and what? What? What the fuck do you expect? I told you, I'm
trying, but you're making that really difficult, you know that? And I just—I can't just not—"

The door opens with a clatter, making James snaps his mouth shut and Regulus jolt, exhaling
explosively from where he apparently began to hold his breath, because James was within reaching
distance, easy enough to touch, and it seemed to be going in that direction; all signs pointing there,
despite the way they were having a conversation going nowhere, just a bridge to meet in the middle
of, a kiss away from a cycle on pause lurching into play again.

But the door opens. It opens, and James is tense immediately, and Regulus follows his gaze to see
Kingsley standing there. His stupid fucking boyfriend, apparently, despite being none of those
things. Kingsley is far from stupid, and he's not Regulus' boyfriend, but, tonight, he is Regulus'
shield, and he's clearly taking that role very seriously. He meets Regulus' eyes and quirks an
eyebrow.
 "Regulus," Kingsley says, and Regulus reflexively bites his lip, gaze darting back to James,
because he wants—yes, okay, he wants to give in again no matter the outcome, and feel that bliss
before the fall, then the inevitable crash to the ground, but it's not just that. He wants to hear what
James has to say, wants to understand what he's trying to say, maybe find some sort of closure, or
peace, at the center of it all. Kingsley does not seem to have sympathy for Regulus' bleeding heart
and heated skin. "Regulus, come on."

"We were in the middle of a conversation," James states, and to his credit, he sounds very cordial
and polite. You wouldn't know this was a bad thing without knowing him, because he rarely ever
sounds like this, always easygoing, easy speaking, and easy to talk to. He sounds cheerful and
lovely, never diplomatic like that, like his lips are stiff across his teeth, like maybe he's trying not
to grind them.

"Yeah, well, now the conversation is over," Kingsley replies, a lot less politely, sounding quite
suspicious—which, considering all that he knows of Regulus' situation, is entirely fair. Maybe not
to James, specifically, but he's not James' friend, is he?

"I'm pretty sure Regulus can decide that for himself," James declares, decidedly less polite now as
well, "and you can fuck off."

"Don't think I'll do that, actually," Kingsley retorts, pushing the door open and stepping out fully.
He's shorter than Regulus by maybe an inch or two, which Regulus has admittedly found rather
sweet when tipping his head down just a smidge to kiss him, getting to run the tip of his nose along
Kinglsey's before their mouths met, but this means he's about four or five inches short than James,
except he clearly isn't too worried about stature or height at the moment. He seems very confident
and willing to start swinging, whether James is bigger or not, and oh no, fuck that. Fuck all of this.

"Oh, that's not happening," Regulus snaps, shifting to stand between them, glaring at each in turn.
"We're not doing that. Either of you start that, and I'll beat the shit out of you both."

"Regulus—"

"It's Sirius' party. I swear to god if either of you ruin it, I'll kill you, so put your dicks away and
have some fucking decency."

James almost instantly deflates, cowed either by Regulus' tone, or at the prospect of ruining
anything for Sirius, or both. Kinglsey, on the other hand, is narrow-eyed with his tongue visibly in
cheek, a slight glint of calculation in his eyes as he studies James. Regulus swings his head between
both of them, thin-lipped and pissed off, because this is Sirius' night, and Regulus is finding that—
after all that Sirius has done for him, and all that Sirius now means to him, and maybe always did
in a way he couldn't understand from brotherhood with gaps in it—he doesn't fuck around about his
brother. It's a new realization, though an altogether unsurprising one, and he likes it. Likes that,
instinctively, he'll go to bat for the one person who did for him when no one else would, and
without hesitation, too.

"Go inside," Regulus tells Kingsley, ignoring it as James' breath hitches in audible excitement, or
victory, or both. Kingsley hesitates, meeting his eyes, face softening as they have a silent
discussion. Kingsley asking are you okay, really? Regulus saying just trust me, I need someone to
trust me, because I can't even trust myself. "Kingsley, go inside. I'm coming in right behind you.
Promise."

Kingsley lifts his hands in visible surrender, a clear sign that he tried to do exactly what Regulus
asked him to, but he's not going to push if he's being told to back off. He goes back inside, not like
a man who has lost a battle, but as one sidestepping the war entirely, with absolutely no reason to
fight. He's lovely.

The door closes. Regulus takes a deep breath and swivels to face James, who has tucked his lips in,
eyes bright, clearly trying not to grin, like he has won something. He has no right to look that way.
It's not as if he should be fighting to begin with.

What is he fighting for? Just to be able to win, right? Pretty, straight boys love fucking winning,
don't they?

"Hi," James says again, breathlessly.

"Don't hi me," Regulus snaps, and James' eyes go big and round and sad as if he has no idea why
Regulus would get curt with him. "Don't do that. Don't—none of it. Any of this. Just don't."

"Reg," James murmurs, soft, moving closer again, and actually reaching out this time, on purpose,
with all the audacity.

Regulus swats his fingers away, huffing, and wants to kiss the wounded look right off his face so
badly that it's maddening. He points at him and adopts a stern demeanor. "No, none of that. You're
not going to do anything other than behave."
"I am behaving," James mumbles with an honest to god pout.

"Shut up. Listen to me, James, I mean it." Regulus lifts his finger higher, pretending he has the high
ground, or a leg to stand on, when he absolutely doesn't. "You're going to be good."

James bites his lip. "I will be so good."

"Stop it," Regulus hisses, feeling his face get hot, and oh god, Kinglsey—Kingsley, come back,
please come back—

"You like it, though," James whispers. "Look at you. Talking about how I look at you, and look at
you, looking at me like that. Like that. You ever look at your boyfriend like that, baby?"

"Oh, fuck you," Regulus chokes out.

"Yeah." James' tongue touches his bottom lip, playing with the corner of his mouth. "You'd like
that, too, wouldn't you?"

Yes, god yes, Regulus thinks pathetically, then surges forward before he even knows what he's
doing, on autopilot, blank-brained and entirely empty between his ears outside of James' voice, and
the way he looks, a taunt, a bird flitting just out of the reach of a cat's claws; how the fuck is he
expected not to pounce? He pounces, alright, has James by the face so fast that it sends the world
spinning and crashing together all around them in a blur of color and midnight skies with stars
exploding and raining down to earth, James not trying to get away, leaning into it, a bird with
feathers to be ripped out from the root to reveal even more underneath. A snake shedding its scales,
a snake in the garden, the snake curled around the base of a tree bearing fruit one isn't meant to bite
into, and Regulus is no better than Adam, no better than Eve, no less human with all his ribs and
skin and free will found in the curl of James' tongue around his, mouths meeting like it's Genesis
and Revelation trapped between a kiss that begins and ends from dust-to-dust.

Regulus leads it, guides it, controls it—has James backed up against the post he started out next to
in the first place, right next to the line of bushes bracketing the porch. James goes with it, flows
like water, like the ocean surging up during a storm to break vessels down and drown the poor
fools that didn't dock for the day. Regulus should have gone inside. Regulus is a god-damned fool.

James' hands settle on his hips, fingers digging in, his head and mouth moving with Regulus',
moving with him; working for it, wave after wave building; participating, with a crash, damnation.
Hell is not fire. Hell is the salt of the sea, and the heat of James' mouth is the sin to get him there.
Regulus is a proud sinner these days, or maybe he has it all wrong, all backwards and twisted up,
because James' hand delves into his hair, kissing him with no end in sight, and it strikes Regulus
that he's sober. His mouth tastes like orange tic-tacs and warmth, but nothing else, just that and
maybe the faint lingers of some other Halloween candy. No drinks. Not drunk, and still here
anyway, kissing Regulus like he wants to, and so Regulus could die, or already has, and this is
heaven, actually.

Maybe this is hell, maybe this is heaven, maybe it's both. Maybe there's no difference when it's
James on the other end of the kiss. Tasting so sweet with the promise of bitter to follow, and
Regulus craves it like someone on fire craves frostbite; like someone frozen dousing themselves in
kerosene and striking the match; like a man in the desert crying in relief when the earth breaks
open and the oceans rise to submerge the whole world, and him with it; like a man treading
treacherous waters finally catching sight of land, dragging himself up on the shores and sprawling
on his back to laugh up at the sky in sheer exhilaration from the threat of drowning, and then back
to sea again soon after, helpless to stop chasing that thrill.

James yanks at Regulus' hair, just a little, breaking the kiss and not going far, nipping at his ear and
panting, "Break up with him. Break up with your boyfriend."

Regulus shudders at the feeling of James' breath on his ear, spilling down his neck, the mouth
making demands soon to follow, teeth grazing down the side of his throat. Regulus' head tips back,
eyes shut, mouth slack. Kingsley might just be the best thing that's ever happened to him, even
with the sex aside, because it led to this.

"He's not my boyfriend," Regulus gasps out, and then thinks he might be the biggest idiot alive,
because James freezes. You don't tell someone their toy hasn't been stolen when you still want to
be played with. That's just common sense, and so naturally, James will have no urge to take it back
and claim it and then, inevitably, discard it. Discard him. He will. He's going to. He's—

"Good. Good, good, good," James chants, now the cat that's gotten the canary, and maybe he likes
loyal toys, thinking he misplaced his favorite only to find it later and clutch it closer, clinging
tighter, swearing to never lose it again until he does, eventually, because he'll drop it when he gets
bored, or gets tired of playing with it, or grows out of it, or finds something better. For now,
though, he's pulling Regulus closer, humming in approval. "That's good. That's so—"

He doesn't finish, because his mouth has made it back to Regulus', and Regulus isn't an idiot about
this. He dives into it eagerly, hands flying up to James' hair, only to encounter hat, which he
snatches off by the bill at the back, dropping it carelessly to the porch. James laughs into the kiss,
hands cradling Regulus' face.
"Dumb fucking hat," Regulus mutters against his mouth, fingers tightening in his hair, trying to
pull him closer. "It has a fish on it. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I thought you liked it," James mumbles, speaking against his cheek and chin, keeping his mouth
on him even as he evades the kiss Regulus is chasing after. He's smiling, lips split around a grin as
he speaks. "Saw you looking at it like you liked it."

"You look fucking stupid."

"I always look like this."

"Exactly."

James huffs a laugh and lifts his head, nose running along Regulus' cheek, making him shiver and
then shiver again, harder, when James whispers in his ear, "And you kissed me anyway."

"Shut up. God, shut up," Regulus orders, and kisses him again, yanking on him to find his mouth
and get lost in it once more.

Drowning.

Drowning.

Drowning.

Regulus is drowning, and James is moaning, and there is the muffled sound of laughter, loud and
barking. Too close. Coming closer. It is, in fact, the worst thing that could happen at this moment.
Nothing ruins the mood like an approaching brother.

Sirius can be heard talking, almost here, and Regulus rips away from James so fast that they both
stumble, gasping, reeling. James stares at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, and then he yelps as
Regulus reaches out with no warning whatsoever to shove him directly off the porch. James goes
tumbling over the side and lands with a harsh thump, a choked-off groan, and a loud rustle of
bushes. Regulus whirls around and leans against the post as casually as he can, arms crossed, trying
to catch his breath and calm the fuck down as the door clicks and comes swinging open.

"There you are!" Sirius bellows, stepping outside as Remus follows, hot on heels. Sirius is
grinning, flushed, clearly even more drunk than he started out. "I've been looking for you for ages.
Kingsley said the last place he saw you was out here! Are you having a smoke? Wait, do you
smoke? I've never seen you smoke."

"No," Regulus says flatly, "I don't. Just…wanted some air. You know I'm not a fan of crowds. Or
excessive noise. Or parties."

"Ah, well, you need to come in anyway and deal with it. We're about to play that game I told you
about." Sirius leans into Remus' side, looking excited. "Hey, have you seen James, by chance?"

"No, sorry," Regulus replies with a lazy shrug.

Remus coughs. Regulus looks at him, sees him flick his gaze down, pointedly, and follows the
gesture to find James' hat lying by his feet. Immediately, Regulus shuffles to kick it over the side
of the porch. There's a muffled rustle of James, presumably, retrieving it.

Sirius frowns. "Did you hear that?"

"Probably a deer, sweetheart," Remus says lightly, and Regulus is pretty sure he's the best thing
since sliced bread. "You know they wander in the backyard sometimes. Come on, let's all head
back in, get started on the game. I'm sure James will show up soon enough. I have the feeling he
hasn't wandered far."

"Right, tell me again, how does this game work?" Regulus asks, pushing away from the post and
helping Remus usher Sirius back inside, nodding along as Sirius explains the rules all over again.

After that, Regulus sticks close by Kingsley, keeping a wide berth from James, who shows up with
leaves in his hair and a glint in his eyes, and he does indeed spend the rest of the night being on his
best behavior. Halloween turns out to be a night to remember, in more ways than one, and Sirius
has a marvelous birthday party.

Well. A win is a win.

Following that is the parting of a love that will never part fully, for it leaves an impression that
lingers in life even after the source is gone, and this is new, too. Regulus has never experienced it
before.

Regulus drives Kingsley to the airport and sits with him until it's time for him to board his plane.
He's tired from work, but—well, Kingsley is important to him, and all of Kingsley's family are out
of state, so he was originally going to have Marlene drive him, but he'd ended up asking Regulus if
he wanted to see him off instead, and the thing is, Regulus did. Regulus does.

"So," Kingsley says, "did you kiss him?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Regulus mutters, swiveling in the hard, plastic chair of the airport waiting
area to glare at him. "Did you invite me to drive you just to interrogate me?"

Kingsley flashes him that dazzling smile. "Maybe." Regulus groans, and Kingsley laughs at him.
"No, hey, we didn't even get to talk after the party last night, so I need to know. I'm invested."

"You're an awful person."

"You kissed him, didn't you? You had that shifty, guilty look about you when you came back
inside."

Regulus heaves a sigh and rubs a hand over his face. "Why the fuck did you leave me out there?
You were supposed to be my shield."

"You told me to leave!"

"You should haven't listened! Because I—I—oh god, yes, okay? Yes, I fucking—I did it again, and
it was—it was just—just everything to me and everything it wasn't fucking supposed to be, and
now you're going to London, and I'm going to let James Potter ruin my life—"
"Regulus," Kingsley says, and Regulus shuts up, because he sounds like a fucking moron. He looks
up to find Kingsley surveying him with his lips slightly pursed. "Before the dramatic oh-woe-is-me
routine kicks in, I have a question."

"It's not a routine—"

"It happens a lot."

"Listen, it's a family attribute, okay?" Regulus grumbles, his face hot.

Kingsley chuckles and shakes his head. "Look, just…um, are you absolutely sure that James is
straight?"

"Uh, yes? That's, like, the whole problem," Regulus says slowly, blinking rapidly at Kingsley, who
—to Regulus' disbelief—actually looks rather skeptical.

"The thing is, you said…" Kingsley hesitates, then pushes his lips from side-by-side, then gives
him a long, measuring look. After a beat, he presses on. "You said that you can't change who you
are any more than straight boys can, and you're right—this isn't something we get to choose—but
sometimes, these things do change."

Regulus stares at him. Blinks. Says, "What?"

"It's like… Okay, me, for example. My first real crush, my first kiss, my first relationship—all of
that was with a boy, and so I thought, well, I'm gay. Dated a couple of boys, didn't think anything
of it, and then I met a girl that I ended up really liking, and I was attracted to her, and so I had a
little bit of a journey, and realized, okay, I'm bisexual." Kingsley gives a lazy, casual roll of his
shoulders, clearly at ease with this history of his. "Sexuality, gender, romantic feelings, all of that
—it isn't always set in stone, not for everyone. Doesn't always fit into a box, or a label, or a journey
that resembles anyone else's. Sometimes it's fluid, and it changes; you meet someone who
introduces feelings to you that you've never felt before, or you just start figuring some things out,
or you decide to experiment and learn some things about yourself, right? Like, I think…maybe
you've been hurt in the past, and so now you live by these restrictions, because it's all you've been
exposed to, and it's all you know. Yeah, at times, people figure things out about themselves, and
that's that. Other times, though, some people haven't even started their journey yet, or they've been
walking one way so long that they weren't even aware that there's a whole other path open to them,
ya know?"
"That's—" Regulus swallows, shakes his head reflexively, despite not really disagreeing with what
Kingsley is saying, but what Kingsley is saying makes his heart race, and gives him a quivering
sense of hope, and fills him with fear that has nothing to do with change, overall, but from how,
maybe, Kingsley is entirely right, and the only reason Regulus isn't wanted is because he's him.
"Don't do that. Kingsley, don't—you can't give me hope like that, okay? James is—he's—"

"Let me lay out the timeline for you, from an objective party, just my take on it from the peanut
gallery, okay?" Kingsley spreads his hands and turns to draw one leg up on his chair, clearly
meaning business about this. "So, the way I see it, James met you, started flirting with you because
you flirted with him, and then you both kept raising the stakes, just little games at first, but then
you got close. You fall in love, and you think James didn't, but let's just say he did. He's been
straight his whole life, so this could be really confusing for him, or maybe he didn't even notice.
Then he gets drunk, gets you off, sleeps over in your bed, and he's gone the next morning. Now,
tell me, what are the chances that maybe, just maybe, he simply—panicked?"

Regulus opens his mouth, then closes it. He wants to argue with this, or even say it's a stupid way
to panic, but he really has no right as someone who's version of gay panic involved literally getting
on his knees and praying for god to fix him. If running was James' version of panic, he's already
doing loads better than Regulus, at least.

Kingsley gives a quiet hum, nodding solemnly. "Right, and so then he denies remembering
anything that happened. And, yes, that was fucked up of him, but…he wouldn't be the first. Maybe
he was scared. Maybe he had no idea what to do next, or just wanted things to go back the way
they were, because that's all he knew and it was safe and the rest was uncharted territory."

"Or, maybe he regretted it."

"Okay, maybe he did, and maybe that's fair. He was drunk, Regulus. That fact alone would make
him even more confused. He probably wouldn't remember all the details, and he definitely
wouldn't know how to handle it. He'd need time, and you said he didn't talk to you for a couple of
days, so maybe he took it. Maybe he figured something out and wanted to come talk to you, and
what happened?"

Regulus scowls. "Stop it. Why are you on his side now? You wanted to beat him up only last night
—"

"I didn't want to. I mean, I would have. Could have, even. Probably. But…I didn't really have any
stakes in it. No offense, because you're my friend, but I wouldn't get jealous enough over you to
fight. My feelings for you clearly aren't what James' is, and that's my point. The way he looked at
you… Regulus, if that man still thinks he's straight by now, then my gaydar is broken beyond
repair. I'm against arguing with people on what their sexuality is, just in general, but I can't lie and
say I didn't see what I saw."

"You could be wrong."

"Yes, I could be. I could be way off the mark, that's true," Kingsley allows, and then, gently, "but
so could you."

"You're not being fair," Regulus whispers.

Kingsley gives him a small smile. "If I'm not, then neither are you, to him. I mean, come on, you
two kissed. He wasn't drunk, I know that, and he was in a great mood for the rest of the night after
coming back in. I think, at this point, you have to talk to him."

"And say what? Hey, silly question, but are you still straight?" Regulus asks sarcastically.

"Yes," Kingsley replies bluntly. "You have every right. It's not like you're going up to a stranger
and demanding they tell you their sexuality, Regulus. You two have had encounters. You can ask,
and you can set boundaries, because if he's still straight, then that's when you tell him it's not good
for you to keep falling into the same cycle with him, and if he genuinely cares about you, he'll
realize that it's hurting you, and what you need is a friend, not a game to play."

"Okay, say I go to him and try that, what happens when I get derailed the moment he—he tries to
reel me back in, or whatever? Because they do that—straight boys—"

"It's not fair to compare James to your past, when one, you haven't even talked to him, and two, you
insist he's a good person."

"He is," Regulus mumbles.

Kingsley's face softens. "Regulus, people mistreating you and using you for their own sick
amusement, or because they're getting paid, or for any self-serving reason aren't good people. If
that's what he's doing, and he wants to keep doing it after you've made it clear that's what it feels
like to you and you need him to stop, then he's not a good person. Are you worried that he'll do
that?"
"No," Regulus admits, because he's not, because he knows—deep down—that James wouldn't, not
if Regulus came to him and came clean and actually, genuinely asked him to stop. James would
likely even feel really bad, and back off, and be so fucking understanding and kind about it. But,
the thing is, Regulus doesn't want him to go. Doesn't want to let him go, even when he doesn't have
him.

That's the crux of all of this. As much as Regulus goes on and on about pretty, straight boys, and as
fucked up as the pretty, straight boys that he had experiences with were, the truth is that Regulus
perpetuates the problem, and is just as fucked up as them.

He likes it, the games, the thrill and the crash, the climb back up and the rough tumble back down.
Likes the secrets, likes being played with like he's just a thing to toss aside when it's all over, likes
the sinister sin of corruption, falling into temptation and forming himself into a mockery of it.
Likes laying his hands on those who aren't supposed to want him to, but does want him to, even if
for just that moment, or their own personal gain. Likes the high of hope when maybe, maybe,
maybe, and then the resulting devastation as maybe rots into was-never-gonna-happen. Likes doing
it over and over, expecting a different outcome and knowing he'll never get it, because he's fucking
insane.

"So, talk to him," Kingsley murmurs. "If not for you, then for Sirius. You're worried it'll get messy,
right? And you want to avoid that, so make the effort. If James turns out to be straight and still just
wants to play games, then you go to Sirius, and you let him help."

"James is his best friend."

"Okay? You're his brother."

Regulus grimaces. "I don't want to…make problems between them."

"If James isn't being a good person to you, then he'd probably want to know that, right? And you
can't decide that for Sirius just because you're worried you'll lose everything like you did before."

"Stop being sensible. What did I say about that?"

Kingsley huffs a laugh and reaches out to grab his hand, threading their fingers together and
squeezing. "Sorry, but I'm leaving the country, and I'd like to make sure you're going to be alright
before I go. It'll give me peace of mind, I think."
 "Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm not going to be alright no matter what happens," Regulus says.
"I'm twenty-two, you know."

"Okay," Kingsley replies, "that's fair. You have a point."

Regulus' lips curl up as Kingsley sighs and leans his head over on Regulus' shoulder. Eyes drifting
closed, Regulus leans his head over on top of Kingsley's. Quietly, he murmurs, "I'll be alright. This
is probably the best I've ever been, being twenty-two aside. And, as for you, London's going to
love you. You'll be alright, too."

"Yeah," Kingsley says softly, "I know."

They stay like that for a while, not speaking, just breathing next to each other. Regulus has never
known a love like this, a quiet kind of love with no traditional outline for it, going nowhere and not
working towards anything, but special all the same for the time it existed between them. Timeless
and on a time limit.

The clock runs out, and Kingsley boards a plane. Regulus watches him go and thinks, idly, that
they'll lose touch, and only keep up with one another through social media, but maybe that's alright,
too. Maybe, sometimes, people come into your life, and they teach you new ways to love, and then
they walk out of it.

And, still, the love remains.

Chapter End Notes

kingsley my beloved <3 he's so special to me. he was here for a good time, not a long
time!!! loved, loved, loved having him!!!

so, like, again, sirius and regulus are very dear to me in this, and just in general, so
getting to write their relationship as brothers in this way, estranged but still important
to each other, has been lovely!!! idk just like, i mean, sirius is a very good brother in
this, and regulus tries his absolute BEST to return the favor, and has residual guilt for
not doing so before. but it's like sirius said, they were both kids, they both have things
they regret and wish could have gone differently, but it wasn't their fault. they :( oh i
love them so much

also!!! the partyyyyyy. lmaoooo that was just SO much fun to write, but i got hung-up
on that scene where regulus followed james outside for quite a while, because
ORIGINALLY, i did not want them to kiss, but regulus Insisted On It. like, there was
no way for me to write that scene where they weren't making out, though i really,
REALLY did try but well, it worked out for the better that way in the end, so a win
is indeed a win

but yes, the next chapter is everything being wrapped up and it's fun and sweet and just
happy overall. james has some things to say!!! well, okay, he tried to say some of them
in this chapter, but he was too busy flirting with regulus to manage it, and really, can
you blame him? he has his priorities straight

also², forever find it hilarious that regulus shoved james off a porch to not be caught by
sirius remus my beloved <3 he came in a clutch with the hat and just keeping his
silence. in doi, remus is a jegulus ally!!!
 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

like, basically no warnings for this chapter other than referenced past childhood
trauma/internalized homophobia/religious trauma etc etc, the usual doi regulus mixup
but overall this is the fun, happy epilogue, and there's silly, fun, happy sex to go
with it! there is explicit sexual content ahead!!!

enjoy <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

What comes next shouldn't be as much of a surprise as it is, because Regulus should expect James
to be a surprise by now. From the very time they met, he didn't see James coming, wasn't prepared
for him at all, and after all this time, nothing has changed in that regard.

When Regulus gets home, James is waiting by his door.

"Hey," James says, hands shoved in his pockets, looking like a dog sad about being left out in the
rain.

"Hey," Regulus replies, taking a deep breath and fishing for his keys, inwardly grateful when
James steps to the side to give him more than enough room to reach his door.

"Can we talk?" James asks quietly, as Regulus gets his door open.

With a weak huff of laughter, Regulus shakes his head at the irony of James coming to talk to him.
He slips inside and holds the door open, nodding at James. "Come in."

James files in after him, flicking his gaze around like he's searching for any new changes since he
was last in here. Since that night, when he likely doesn't even remember much of it. Remembers
enough for his gaze to dart towards the kitchen, lingering there and leaving little to the imagination
about what he recalls, and then he rips his gaze away, visibly flustered as he faces Regulus and
rocks back on his heels, fluttery and fidgeting like a little boy instead of a grown man. It's terribly
cute. Regulus wants, inexplicably, to kiss the tip of his nose and is suitably disgusted with himself
for the urge.
"So, um…" James trails off, watching as Regulus slips past him, entering the kitchen with the ease
of someone who has had no choice but to do so, despite what happened between them inside.

"Thirsty?" Regulus calls as he opens the fridge. Against his will, his tone turns mocking. "Hungry,
maybe? I happen to have chocolate Cheerios these days."

"You do?" James asks quietly, his voice soft. He's standing perched in the doorway of the kitchen,
not coming inside like he's unsure of his welcome, but still needing to see Regulus anyway. He was
like this in grocery stores. Regulus thinks he has abandonment issues, and can't imagine where he
got them from.

"Yeah, well, turns out you were right. They are better," Regulus admits grudgingly. "Do you want
something?"

"Ah, no, but thanks."

Regulus nods and grabs himself a bottle of water, gesturing towards the table past James, which
makes James immediately back up and go right to his chair. Well, not his chair, but it was the one
he always sat in all those times he followed Regulus inside, and he goes right back to it now like
it's an instinct.

Regulus sinks down into his chair, drinks a bit of water, and then regards James in silence, waiting.
James says nothing for a while, picking at the chipped wood left behind from his keys months ago,
and Regulus has to gesture at him to get him to speak.

James clears his throat. "Right. So, ah, how—how was work?"

"It was fine."

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"How was your day?"

"Fine," Regulus repeats. James looks lost, so he takes pity and heaves a sigh. "I took Kinglsey to
the airport. He's moving to London, so I was seeing him off before he left."

"Oh." James looks startled. "Wow, okay. Good for him."

Regulus arches an eyebrow. "Is it?"

"I mean…yes?" James is clearly treading carefully here. "If, um, that's where he wants to be, I
guess. He's—your friend, right?"

"Yes."

"Not your boyfriend, you said."

"No."

"But you went on a date with him."

"Yes," Regulus confirms.

James coughs. "Just didn't work out, then? He wasn't your type?"

He wasn't you, Regulus doesn't say. What he does say, instead, is a very casual, "Kingsley was
great. We had, ya know, a fling. I guess that's the word for it. We knew from the start he was
leaving, so we were just friends who were having—fun."

"Fun," James repeats. "What kind of fun? Did you—" He stops, lowers his voice, and whispers,
"Did you play checkers with him?"

"Oh my god," Regulus chokes out, shoulders wrenching up on a helpless laugh as James cracks a
weak smile. "I—fuck—you are so—" He exhales out a stifled groan, still laughing as he reaches up
to brace his hand against his forehead, cheek resting on his own forearm. James is watching him,
relaxed now, eyes sparkling with a smile growing on his face. Regulus gazes at him, lips curled up,
and quietly says, "No, James, I didn't play checkers with him."

"Right." James looks down, pleased, bashful almost, then he takes a deep breath and his smile
fades as he looks back up. "Right, so, more like fun in the, um—the biblical sense?"

"Well, there wasn't very much about it that I'd label as strictly biblical," Regulus says dryly, "but
yes, we had sex."

"Oh." James blows out that breath, deflating like a popped balloon. "Greeeeat. Good, good, good.
Love that. Love, love, loveeee that."

"No you don't," Regulus says, exasperated. "James, no you don't. I don't know if it's because—I
don't know—" He falters, gazing at James, who gazes right back. Regulus lifts his head, slowly,
and swallows harshly. "James, are you still…?"

"What?"

"Ah. Straight?"

James is still for a long moment, staring at him, and then his eyes flutter closed and he lifts both
arms to the table, elbows resting there, hands coming up to cover his face. He scrubs them up
under his glasses, upsetting them and digging his fingers into his eyes, then fixes it and pushes both
hands into his hair.

Regulus' heart clenches. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that. You don't—James, you don't
have to answer that."

"No," James mumbles, exhaling so explosively that his cheeks round out like a chipmunk. "No, uh,
I'm not. Straight. Anymore. Or—" He frowns, eyebrows crinkling together, "—never was, I guess.
It's all, uh, still a little unclear. But…no. No, I'm not. I do know that."

Regulus tries so fucking hard not to react to this selfishly, like it's to his benefit or has anything to
do with him, because James is visibly struggling with the whole matter, and it would be fucked up
to rejoice about it—but, well, it is exhilarating. This has never, ever happened to Regulus before;
he's never even heard of it, just that someone he previously pegged as a pretty, straight boy turned
out to be anything but, and it's someone he has feelings for, and he can't help it, the way his heart
seems to skip a beat, and his chest grows warm, and the hope inside him trembles, trembles,
trembles like it's petrified to be crushed again, but is still defiantly alive anyway.

Regulus does falter, however, when he realizes he has absolutely no idea how to respond to this.
It's shocking to him, a surprise he didn't see coming, leaving him reeling from it, because he never
expected anything to get this close to working out for him, not in this regard, which is a
presumptuous train of thought, but the hope is only getting stronger by the second, despite his
uncertainty in how to proceed. All of this is unprecedented. Miraculous, almost.

But it's more than that, too. Regulus doesn't know what to say. He has never had someone come
out to him, and he has never come out to anyone else. Being ripped out of the closet—or the
confessional, for irony's sake—isn't quite the same. Regulus didn't get a choice; he barely did with
Sirius, who he had to explain the whole situation to when he arrived to pick him up. He didn't come
out to Sirius, didn't even think about it at the time, in the midst of everything else, too caught up in
his life falling to ruin to worry about his estranged brother finding out he was gay. Sirius barely
even batted an eye and was far more interested in trying to needle Bellatrix's address out of
Regulus, so he could do a drive-by. And then, well, everyone else around him was already out, or
just—didn't care about making it known, like Marlene and Dorcas. Then, when Sirius asked
Marlene to hook Regulus up with Kingsley, everyone knew Regulus was into men, and no one
batted an eye about it either, or even reacted at all.

So, in short, Regulus has no idea what to do here.

As if to further drive the point home that Regulus' silence is entirely unhelpful, James croaks,
"You're the first person I've said that to."

"Ah," Regulus replies, stupidly. James frowns down at the table, and Regulus grimaces. "I—
James, I'm going to be honest, I—I'm not really…good at things like this. I want to—put you at
ease, but I don't know what the words are to do that. No one ever said them to me."

"Well, that's depressing."

"Isn't it just?"

"It's—I'm not, like, homophobic."

"Okay," Regulus says, because honestly, he didn't think James was.

James frowns. "I'm not. Sirius would just fucking eat me. In one bite. And he'd have every right to,
considering."

"Yeah, sounds like him," Regulus tells him with a chuckle. He pauses, then crinkles his nose up. "I
was."

"Was what?"

"Homophobic."

"You—" James blinks at him. "What? Why?"

Regulus sighs. "Kinda came with the religion. I mean, not everyone is, but in my corner of it, you
were. And so I was, because they were. Not…maliciously? I mean, not to others. Just to myself."

"Internalized."

"Yeah. Still, um, working on that. Ongoing battle."

"Really?"

"I don't think it's wrong or anything. Just…I sort of struggle with how god feels about it, going
back and forth on whether I even care or not, or if he's even real, or—ah, it's kind of a lot. I'd say it's
more religious trauma than internalized homophobia, but those tend to go hand-in-hand, which
probably comes as a shock to no one."

"Oh, yeah, Sirius struggled with that a lot. Probably still does, on occasion," James muses
thoughtfully, lowering his hands to the table and idly stroking the chipped mark on it, looking
pensive. "To be clear, that's not what this is with me. Internalized homophobia, I mean. Or I don't
—think so? Like, I don't think it's wrong; I think it's lovely, actually, for everyone, and me too."
"But?" Regulus prompts.

"But…" James bites his lip, then sighs again. "You know, I've always been the straight friend.
James the ally Potter. I just—that's just been kinda my thing, since all my friends are queer. It was
a bit of a running gag for a while, actually, and I didn't mind. Didn't have an issue with it, didn't
feel like it was wrong, didn't feel like…I was anything else. I mean, I've always liked girls. Only
ever been with girls. And, sure, I flirted with Sirius—"

Regulus makes a face, and James huffs a laugh.

"No, come on, not like—not just him. Peter, too, and Remus when he came along. Sure, just for
laughs, and just for fun, because I like it. I like flirting. I'm a flirt."

"What? Nooo, I didn't get that from you at all," Regulus says with a heavy dose of sarcasm,
arching an eyebrow at him.

James is clearly fighting a smile. "Hey, you started it."

"I did not!"

"Oh, yes you did. You—with the fucking—the—when I said I was your ride, and you mentioned
your bed—"

"You called me pretty before that!"

"And you asked me not to be straight before that."

Regulus purses his lips, fighting a smile, too. "Well, maybe I just clocked you. Or manifested it."

"You—you definitely had something to do with it, yeah," James admits sheepishly. He looks
nervous again, with a boyish sort of charm, which makes Regulus want to melt. "I've never—I
mean…" He licks his lips, grimacing slightly. "I think this is part of my issue, because it's—
upsetting a little? Just that maybe all the things I brushed off or didn't think about twice were
something, but I didn't notice, or didn't let them be, just because people had told me that they
couldn't be. Like my identity was decided for me. And it wasn't malicious, not from anyone—
because, I mean, how could they know if I didn't? But I didn't know, because I'd just assumed this,
since everyone else did. No one's to blame here, but it…hurts anyway?"

"Yeah, I think that's a part of the queer experience. Or just, life," Regulus murmurs. "It hurts.
You're allowed to be hurt."

"And you said you didn't know what to say," James teases, though his eyes are sad. He reaches up
to grip the back of his neck. "I don't know, I guess I feel like…a fraud? Which is—I know that's
stupid, because I feel what I feel, so I can't really fake that, but—"

"Imposter syndrome?"

"Maybe? I don't know. It's like a habit to be straight, so coming to the conclusion that I'm not is
supposed to break that habit, right? Except, weirdly enough, the habit is still there? I know I'm not,
but I still think in terms as if I am, and still act like it's new information to me when…it's not.
That's stupid, right? I know that's—"

"No," Regulus cuts in. "No, James, it's not. I—well, actually, I knew I wasn't straight since I was
seventeen, just about, and it wasn't until I was twenty-one that I actually acknowledged that I was
anything else. I would get caught up with some guy, then 'go pray the gay away', as that saying
goes, and be so sure that I was straight. It's not stupid. Or, maybe it is, but I've found most queer
people are a little bit stupid like this in one way or another, so…welcome to the club."

"I do like clubs," James muses, lips twitching.

"And, um, you—you could fake it, by the way." Regulus pauses, then clears his throat. "Not you,
I'm not saying you are, but I mean that it's possible, and that people do. And have. With me."

James blinks at him, clearly not computing. "Faked…what?"

"Feelings," Regulus admits. "Interest. Attraction. Things like that."

"With you?" James asks, leaning forward, sounding so disbelieving that a helpless laugh tumbles
out of Regulus' mouth. Ah, well, that's lovely to hear. "Do you mean like, a lesbian didn't know she
was a lesbian and so she faked—"
"No. A guy, James. A few, actually. Straight guys."

"Faked… Wait, how?"

Regulus laughs again, because James can't seem to wrap his head around this, which is honestly
liberating. "Well, rather similar to how you did—or seemed to, at least."

"Seemed—" James rears back, looking downright appalled. "Like me? What does that mean? If
that's the case, then they weren't faking."

"You weren't faking?" Regulus asks. "Not even a little bit? Even in the beginning, for the laughs,
for something to do?"

James' eyes bulge. "Wait. Wait, oh, is that what you think?"

"I don't—I mean, it's not—I don't know, but it's not your fault that I don't know, because the other
guys—they—well, they—"

"Regulus—"

"I don't know," Regulus croaks, shrugging weakly. Defeated. At the end of his rope. "I really
don't."

"Fuck. Okay, no, that's—" James shakes his head, pushing his chair back and standing up rather
swiftly to come around the table, just squatting down right next to Regulus' chair to reach out,
catch his face in his hands, and swivel it so Regulus has no choice but to look at him. Firmly, he
says, "I wasn't faking anything. I don't—do that. I don't fake shit, Reg. What you see is what you
get, and I know that can be a lot sometimes; I know I'm a lot sometimes, and I can be too much,
and come on too strong—"

Regulus shakes his head and whispers, "You're perfect."

"I—okay, well—" James opens and closes his mouth, once again looking flustered. "Well, that's—
thank you. Me too. Or no, you too, I meant. Perfect. You are. I—" He scrunches his face,
squeezing his eyes shut. "Jesus, that was fucking awful. Maybe I was straight just to save everyone
else from how painfully bad I am at being—not."

"I think you're doing well."

"Stop interrupting me, and I'll do even better."

"Alright," Regulus says, trying not to grin, "proceed."

James clears his throat and opens his eyes. "Right. As I was saying, before I was oh so rudely
interrupted—"

"You're pushing it."

"As I was saying, before I was politely interrupted, twice, I was never faking anything with you. I
—I may not have understood all of it to start with, but everything from the very beginning was real.
Every bit of it. Everything I did, or said, I did and said because I wanted to. Because I liked it.
Liked you. I—really, really like you."

"No offense, James, but…" Regulus bites his lip, trying to figure out how to put this delicately and
finding it incredibly difficult to think with James' hands sliding down to settle on the sides of his
neck, resting there, fingers twitching curiously, trying to discreetly feel more skin. "Everything you
did, you wanted to do, right? And it never crossed your mind to think…?"

"I mean, eventually," James mumbles. "At first, I didn't even realize I had a crush, because I didn't
know I could get a crush on a guy. I thought I was straight, so I thought, maybe, I was just really
excited about you being my friend. But, at some point, I was—I could kind of see that it was
beyond that. Way beyond…"

"Like the video?" Regulus asks.

James jolts, his face falling slack, and there's the belated horror and shame he should have felt
then. He chokes on a groan, ducking his head and slowly, repeatedly banging it against Regulus'
leg. "Oh god. Oh my god, the video. The—the—I can't believe I did that. I—"
"How do you think I felt?"

"I—oh, that was insane of me. That was—"

"Yeah, it really was. What on earth possessed you—"

"I—I—Regulus, I'm sorry—"

Regulus reaches out to cup the back of his head, carding fingers through his hair, fascinated by the
way James all but melts down into his lap. "It's okay. I mean, never do that again. Well, actually,
you can do it again, to me, but never to anyone else. And, just as a general rule, unsolicited sexual
messages of any sort are in bad form. I mean, it wasn't too bad, but we both know how you meant
it."

James turns his head and peers up at him. "The worst part is, I know that. My mother absolutely
raised me better than that. I've never done anything like that either. I wish I had a proper excuse,
other than, ah, checkers?"

"Checkers," Regulus repeats, eyebrows flying up.

"Okay, not checkers themselves, but playing with you the first time we did. It was—I don't know,
just the way you looked at me, I couldn't get it out of my head, and you said you were going to
fantasize about me, which I couldn't stop thinking about either—"

"Wait. James, wait, did you—did you get yourself off after the video cut off?"

"Well," James says wryly, "you saw where my hand went. I didn't reach in my pants for no
reason."

Regulus stares at him, then says, "At what point, exactly, did you start to understand you didn't just
have friendly feelings for me? Because if you say anything after you masturbated to the thought of
me, I reserve all rights to judge you."
"Judge away," James confesses, and Regulus gapes at him in pure disbelief. "I know it's silly, but I
was just too fucking pleased with myself, and the thought that you were getting off to me, to think
about it too hard. No, I—I didn't realize officially until the night I was supposed to come pick you
up, but didn't."

"When we…" Regulus flicks his gaze to the kitchen.

James shakes his head. "No, actually. Before that. Before I was drunk. It kind of hit me when I
really, really didn't want Sirius to find out you still needed to be picked up, because he'd insist on
doing it, but I wanted to. Just to see you. Just to be with you. Even though I knew I'd see you the
next day, I didn't want to miss any time with you. I wanted to be with you all the time, and missed
you when you weren't around, and outright lied to my best friend—your brother—just so I could
get more time with you, and I was sitting there, not drinking so I could be sober enough to drive
you, and it hit me like a fucking brick to the face, which was… Well, it wasn't the place for it,
because you weren't there, and I was surrounded by people who'd known me most of my life, but
didn't know this, and I—I just—I had a drink to try to stop myself from freaking the fuck out,
which didn't help, so I had another, and that one didn't work, so I kept trying and then…"

"Yeah," Regulus says faintly, eyes wide, "I know how the rest went. So, you—you knew before
we did anything?"

"Yeah," James murmurs. "I was—I thought I could—I wanted to, um, ask you out. Like, properly."

"James, what the fuck?" Regulus whines, reaching down to grip his shoulder and shake him. "Why
didn't you?! You left, and then you acted like you didn't remember what happened!"

"I know, but I—I was scared I fucked it up," James tells him, shoulders slumping, looking up at
him with big eyes. "I thought I ruined it before I even got to have it. Because I—I took it too far, all
while I was drunk, and that's not how I wanted to do it, but we'd already done it, so that's all I could
think about doing from then on. When I came and picked you from work that last time, the whole
ride I was—thinking thoughts I definitely shouldn't have been thinking, and I knew you were upset,
but I couldn't stop. And I know I come on too strong, I know that night was too much, especially
because I distinctly remember you trying to stop me at one point—"

"Not for me, for you," Regulus cuts in hastily. "I was fully consenting, James, trust me. You didn't
force me. I—I liked it. A lot."

"Yeah, I—I, um—I remember that you did," James says, his voice softer, gaze trailing down to
Regulus' mouth, getting stuck there. The regret in his eyes for past mistakes is swiftly being
overtaken by a growing interest in future possibilities.

"James," Regulus says, and James jolts.

"Huh?" James snatches his gaze up, guilty and innocent, sheepish and unashamed, a myriad of
emotions. Beautiful. "Right, sorry. I was saying that I—well, that's basically it. I thought I fucked it
up, and I thought you were pissed at me, and you certainly seemed to be, so I thought maybe it'd be
better if—if I tried again. Like…if I pretended like it never happened, let things calm down, and
then gave it another shot. I wanted to—to be smart about it, ya know? Not just rush into it and push
too hard, because I have a habit of doing that, and I've been told I'm a lot to handle, too much—"

"Oh, wow, you have problems from romantic history too, huh?"

"What? Do I?"

Regulus frowns at him. "You've mentioned it a few times, that you apparently come on too strong,
you're too much, you're a lot—things like that. Past girlfriends tell you that?"

"I mean, a couple," James says with a wince. "In their defense, I am. I'm loud and full of energy
and clingy and touchy and—"

"Those are only bad things to people who mind them, and maybe they did, which is their
prerogative, but that's a reflection of them, not you, and definitely not me," Regulus says. "I don't
mind."

James eyes him speculatively. "You don't?"

"I told you," Regulus murmurs, "you're perfect."

"Yeah, that's—that just goes straight to my head," James declares breathlessly, lifting his head and
stretching up to hover closer, flicking his gaze from Regulus' eyes to his mouth. "I tried to give you
space, you know. Tried to back off, not be too much, and I—I took a couple of days to figure out…
me, I guess. I mean, I didn't, really. I still don't know what label works, if I really liked girls or not,
or just thought I did, or had to, or—I don't know. I still don't know, and I couldn't really make
myself feel like it mattered when all I wanted was you, so I came back. Ran in and watched you
say you'd go out with another man. Absolutely crushing for me, by the way."
"Oh," Regulus says softly, remembering suddenly how badly James wanted to talk to him. Begged
to talk to him. To be heard. And then Regulus refused to listen. "Shit, James, I'm—I should have
heard you out, at the very least. I have some…baggage, but that's not your fault. I was adamant that
you were a good person, I knew that, but I don't think I could…trust that, fully, which had nothing
to do with you."

"It's—you know, I…handled it. I was fine. Mostly. Okay, not really, but I don't think it's entirely
your fault either. I was working through some things, or trying to, and all I could think about was
how long things had been slipping through the cracks, until you." James exhales shakily, holding
his gaze. "And then I fucked up and let you slip through the cracks, too. It—ah, it wasn't a good
time."

"Oh, and then I called you weird," Regulus says in mounting horror, struck by how fucking terrible
that must have been for James to hear at the time, in light of everything.

James makes a face. "Yeah, you did. Which, rude, by the way. I was trying to back off. The whole
time when we weren't talking, all I wanted to do was talk to you. Come over. Play checkers. Go
grocery shopping. Touch you." His gaze flicks down again. "Kiss you."

"The whole time, I wanted you to do all of that, but worse than that, I was under the impression
you'd only be doing it with the intention of using me like a toy, which you'd inevitably throw
away," Regulus confesses, "so, basically, you aren't the pathetic one in this scenario."

"Regulus," James says quietly, "I would never do that to you."

"No, you can," Regulus blurts out quickly, and James blinks, then his eyebrows fly up. Regulus'
whole face feels like it catches flames. "Oh, okay, that's—mortifying. What I meant was…" He
trails off, pitifully, then feels his eyes sink shut. "Yeah, no, that's what I meant."

"Regulus," James hisses, sounding appalled.

"I know. God, I know," Regulus groans. "I've heard it a million times, okay? Just—I'm pathetic, I
know that. And I'm—I'm infuriatingly into pretty, straight boys. It's so stupid."

A pause, then James anxiously mumbles, "But I'm not that."

"Keep the hat and never let go of those stupid memes, and you're as close as I need you to be,"
Regulus replies, and he opens his eyes when James clicks his tongue in offense. "Relax, James.
Straight or not, you're definitely still pretty."

"Well, I want you to like me for me, not just because you thought I was a pretty, straight boy,"
James mutters.

Regulus huffs a laugh and runs his hand down the side of James' head, cupping his jaw. "You
know something funny? That's all I wanted, too, just in the opposite direction. I wanted to be
wanted for me, not just because I was gay boy who'd let himself be toyed with. You don't have a
damn thing to worry about, James. You could be anything—fucking anything, whatever you want
—and I'm still going to be pathetic about you. That's what made it scarier with you than any of the
others; none of the others ever mattered the way you do."

"What about Kingsley?" James asks, leaning in until their noses bump, his breath audibly hitching.

"Mm, Kingsley," Regulus says lightly, humming to hide a laugh when James immediately frowns.
"He was fun. Lots and lots of fun. He taught me a lot. Just so much, James, you would not believe
—"

"I know what you're doing."

"Do you?"

"Mhm, and it's not going to work."

"Pretty sure it already is. You're pouting."

James scoffs. "Nothing to pout about. How many times did you fuck him and wish it was me?"

"And if I said never?" Regulus challenges.

"You'd be lying. We both know you can't resist me, baby." James breaks out into that stupid
fucking grin of his when Regulus shifts in his chair a little bit, heart racing. "Oh, oh, I see. I get it
now. Wait, yeah, maybe that makes sense. Not just confidence, or arrogance, but you said
something about religious trauma, so it's—oh, it's the fucking temptation for you, isn't it?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Regulus says, short of breath, hot all over and
struggling to be normal about any of this.

"Something that feels like giving into sin, knowing you shouldn't, knowing it'll feel like the best
thing you'll ever do," James concludes, eyes sparkling. "Now, that—I can absolutely make that
happen for you anytime you want, you kinky fuck."

"Shut the fuck up," Regulus chokes out, shifting his hand out of sheer self-preservation to grip
James harshly by the jaw, trying to physically get him to stop talking. His brain is running around
in circles, spitting sparks in all corners. "Oh, I'm going to hell."

James hums, tilting his head back to speak, grinning up at Regulus as he says, "Haven't you learned
by now? All the best people are."

Obviously, this is not the least bit true, and Regulus could give a whole spiel about all the things he
knows, and all that he's learned his whole life, about how hell is reserved for the worst of the
worst, even if half of the people his parents once believed qualified aren't included in that—but, the
thing is, James has clearly said this in a very specific way, far too seductive and sensual for it to be
meant literally, and Regulus has come such a long way, because heaven and hell are not even a
thought in his head when he doesn't argue and chooses to capture James' mouth with his own
instead.

This is clearly the best course of action, Regulus thinks, because it's absolutely the most amazing
thing that has ever happened to him, and James surges into it immediately, hands snapping out to
grab him and hold him and all but crawl into his lap trying to get closer.

Regulus would actually be so okay with having James in his lap, but the chair isn't helping make
that possible, so he has James by his hair and the front of his shirt in an instant, dragging him to his
feet and stumbling to follow. James has him by the face, clutching both sides of his head, not
letting him go and keeping them connected by the mouths as they trip over themselves through the
apartment.

They bump into the wall, then the stand holding the lamp they knock over and do not stop to check
on, then the bookcase where the fucking checkers tips off the shelf and opens upon hitting the
floor, pieces scattering in all different directions. James curses into the kiss, laughing, hands under
Regulus' shirt, yanking on it; a fruitless endeavor, seeing as he's resistant to the kiss breaking at all.
Meanwhile, James has on a stupid fucking letterman jacket that he's definitely had since
highschool, his football team listed on the back, which Regulus absolutely delights in peeling off
and leaving in a careless pile in the hall.

James' back collides into Regulus' bedroom door, both of them gasping into the kiss, fumbling
hands making barely any progress, but Regulus has officially gotten James' belt open—and who
even wears fucking belts anymore anyway? He yanks it out harshly, feeling it jerk James' body, his
hips, making them rock together, and they get lost there for a moment, doing that as the belt hits
the floor with a dull clatter, not managing much more than building the frustration between them,
yet far too desperate to stop.

"Definitely not straight, definitely not—" James cuts him off with a groan, fighting with Regulus'
shirt with one hand, fumbling at the door to find the doorknob with the other, and still trying to
keep his tongue in Regulus' mouth the entire time. "Regulus, you have to—if you don't get this
fucking door open, Regulus—"

"Okay, okay," Regulus gasps out, finding the strength to pull his hands away from where they were
dutifully getting James' pants open to turn his head and find the doorknob. James leaves it to him,
mouth latching onto his neck, which does make things more difficult, but everyone has their
tribulations. He overcomes them on sheer faith, finding that doorknob blindly and turning it, the
both of them instantly falling inside with simultaneous curses.

Regulus immediately begins kicking off his shoes, and James follows suit, and they get maybe
halfway into removing their clothes (socks and shirts) before James has apparently had enough of
the whole not touching thing. Regulus is pretty sure he's the smartest man alive.

Eventually, somehow, they fall into bed together, and this is when James pumps the brakes. He
puts his hands on Regulus' chest, because Regulus is hovering over him, in between his legs, and
his chest heaves as he dumps his head back against the pillow, seeming to try and catch his breath.

"I've never done anything like this," is what James wheezes out, blinking rapidly. "I mean, you
know that, but I—I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing, Regulus. I've seen gay porn, but I haven't
actually watched it, ya know? So I have no clue—"

"Oh no, James, it's nothing like gay porn," Regulus says with a snort, and James blinks some more.
"Real life sex is not like porn sex. And we can't have sex anyway. Not like they do in porn."
"Oh," James says, clearly disappointed.

Regulus chuckles. "I didn't mean never, I just meant not now, because if we're doing that, we need
to take showers, lay towels down, get the lube, take the time to figure out positions and all that. I
don't really think either of us are going to make it that far."

James glances down at himself, like he's evaluating just how much his dick can withstand, then he
says, "Okay, you have a point. So, uh, what did you have in mind, since you're the expert?"

"I could tell you, or I could show you," Regulus says, raising his eyebrows. "Up to you."

"Is it going to hurt?"

"That sort of defeats the purpose of sex, James."

"Does it?" James asks lightly. "Shame."

Regulus huffs a laugh and leans down to kiss him, pleased when James slides both arms around his
shoulders and neck, legs falling open wider to let Regulus settle more firmly against him. It's a nice
place to be, but sadly doesn't last long, because Regulus does have a plan, believe it or not. James
just seems happy to be here.

The plan reveals itself rather swiftly when Regulus insists on James getting out of his pants, then
his fucking—

"James," Regulus says, staring.

"What? What is it? Why are you stopping?" James practically whines, following his gaze and not
getting it at all.

Regulus breathes in, then out. "You're wearing Spiderman boxers."

"Yeah? So?" James asks, frowning. "What's wrong with Spiderman? I love Spiderman."
"I hate you, I can't fucking believe this, can't believe you—" and Regulus gets no further because
he's already worked his way down James' chest, rolled those stupid fucking boxers down, and
occupied his mouth in such a way that speech becomes impossible.

James chokes, flops back down with a loud moan, and does not protest the Spiderman slander.

Regulus closes his eyes and loses himself to it, reveling in it, wired to worship and this might just
be his favorite way. He loves everything about it, the grip James has on his hair, the noises he
makes, how he can't be still to save his fucking life, so responsive, and so Regulus has to hold him
down, feeling James' legs shake and quiver beneath his fingers. It's quite honestly the most erotic
thing Regulus has ever experienced, a heady rush of power perfectly balanced with the shaky thrill
of being powerless to the temptation of it. On his knees before a god, and bringing a god to his
knees.

Frankly, Regulus is pretty sure he could do this all day, and would, if James wanted him to, if
James let him. James could have him on his knees as nothing more than a mouth to fuck into it,
open and ready to be used as he saw fit; all he'd have to do is ask—or not even ask, just tell him,
and that'd be it. He'd love every fucking minute of it.

He is, in fact, lost in that distant fantasy, rolling his hips into the bed in the need of pressure,
friction, some sort of relief, because the mere thought has him hot from head-to-toe. What's
working him up even more is James writhing beneath him, gasping his name, whining and
moaning and whimpering—oh, he whimpers, and it's glorious. It has Regulus pinning James' hips
down and getting a cloudy head rush from taking too much and gagging, listening to James spit out
filthy curses, gasping and arching, yanking frantically on his hair and chanting his name in very
clear warning, but Regulus has thankfully had enough practice to stay, and swallow, and feel his
whole body hum with satisfaction as James fucking loses it.

"Oh my god, ooooh my god," James is chanting when Regulus pulls off and crawls up the length of
his body. His eyes are closed, glasses discarded somewhere, arm thrown over his face as his chest
rises and falls quickly. Regulus dips down over him and kisses the side of his arm, which makes it
slide down, revealing James' eyes, which gaze up at him with all pupil. "The—the cliff notes did
not prepare me for the real thing. Baby, they didn't even compare."

Regulus smiles, helplessly. "Told you you were missing out."

"God, I really was," James agrees earnestly, reaching for him, dragging him in for a kiss. It's a bit
sloppy and trails across Regulus' cheek. "You're good at that. You're really, really good at that,
Reg."
"Mm," is all Regulus can bring himself to say, because he feels like thank you is inappropriate
somehow, which is absurd. He just had James' dick in his mouth, so by all accounts, he should be
able to take praise with no issues. Brains are so strange.

James kisses him some more, leisurely and slow, sinking into it like he's unraveling. Soft and
sweet, now, as well as clingy. Can't seem to get enough of him, touching him, kissing him. Regulus
is high off it, feeling floaty and warm and ridiculously safe, his whole being alight with undeniable,
inexplicable happiness.

"Okay, okay, thank you," James mumbles nonsensically, drawing back from the kiss with what
seems to be herculean effort. He blinks up at him with hazy, honey-sweet eyes and smiles. "Right,
okay, I don't think I'll be that good, but I will do my absolute best."

"James, you don't have to—"

"I know that, but I want to. Or I want to try. You're not allowed to laugh at me if I suck."

Regulus lets James push him over on his back and says, faintly, "Sucking is the whole point."

James snort-laughs, his eyes lighting up, grinning as he sinks down the length of Regulus' body,
dropping off kisses as he goes, clearly happy and riding the high of his orgasm. "You're funny, you
know that? But you know what I meant. Don't laugh at me if I'm bad at it, because I'm pretty sure
my ego will never recover."

"Trust me, I'm not going to laugh at you, James," Regulus assures him, propping himself up to
watch, because he'll be damned if he's missing this. Well, he's probably damned already, but if
missing this was what it took to save him, he'll take being damned any day.

Regulus does not laugh at James, of course. He's a little too busy having the time of his fucking life
to even come close. No, James isn't better than Kingsley, clearly has never done this before, but
that simply doesn't matter. The fact that it's James makes it better than anything else, and—well,
blowjobs are hard to fuck up.

James is obviously getting a feel for it, experimenting, figuring out the mechanics and what he
likes and what he can handle, and all that he doesn't and can't, versus how Regulus responds to it.
Regulus' brain decides this is very hot, being James' first, having a previously believed pretty,
straight boy sucking him off with an underlying curiosity and evident interest. Regulus' brain also
decides that giving directions, encouragement, and praise that James responds to beautifully is the
only thing he can do in this situation. James is in favor, taking orders very well, and happily,
definitely not lying about being a people pleaser by nature, and it becomes very apparent very
quickly that he's a big fan of praise. Regulus is glad for that, because he can't seem to shut up
babbling about how perfect James is, and how good this feels, and this produces excellent results,
because it only pushes James into trying even harder.

When Regulus gives the warning, James does actually heed it and pull off, apparently not ready to
try swallowing just yet—which is fair, as it can be intimidating at first—but he stays close enough
that Regulus can't help but come all over his face, as James clearly intended for him to do, since he
closes his eyes and leans into it, mouth open a little like he's curious enough about the taste to try
it.

Which. Okay. Okay, great, so Regulus will never function as a normal human being ever again,
basically. He's been officially driven over the edge, beyond the brink of madness, ensnared by the
grips of insanity with no way to escape. He's expected to just walk around casually with the
knowledge he's come on James Potter's face, and see that face, knowing that he did, and just—
what, carry on? Not lose his fucking mind about it? Get a grip? That's impossible, and there's no
fucking chance. No possible way. He's not strong enough.

It is the singularly hottest thing that has ever happened to him, and nothing will ever top it,
Regulus knows. He's never going to recover. It's a wonder he doesn't fucking weep, honestly, like
all his dreams have come true. Not all of them have, but. Damn.

Close enough.

"How was that?" James asks, and has the audacity to sound fucking nervous, adorably so, as if
Regulus' brain isn't leaking out of his ears at the moment. James fumbles around to locate his hand,
eyes still closed, currently a mess, but he keeps darting his tongue out to taste, and dear god,
Regulus thinks the sight of him is the simultaneous epitome of torment and salvation.

"Very—" Regulus' voice cracks. "Yes."

"Very yes?" James breaks out into a grin, and nope, Regulus won't survive another second of this.

Regulus scrambles to sit up, still trembling a little from aftershocks, and he braces his hands against
James' shoulders so he can lean in for the sole purpose of kissing his forehead, which is thankfully
free of a mess. "Yes, very yes. Stay here and don't move, I'm getting a wet wipe for your face."
"M'kay," James says cheerfully, sitting back on his haunches and waiting, still blatantly happy to
be here.

Regulus goes to get a wet wipe he uses to clean his face—working around food makes him feel like
he's covered in grease by the time he gets home, so these work wonders—then he takes a minute to
breathe and get his wits about him, trying not replay everything that just happened on a loop in his
head, because his refractory period is short, and his dick will absolutely take an interest. When he
makes it back to his room, the gathering of his restraint turns out to be all for naught, because
James hasn't moved an inch, and the fact that he hasn't, all because Regulus told him not to—
despite how James always struggles to be still, always in constant motion in some way or another—
is enough to have his dick taking an interesting anyway.

"Hold still," Regulus murmurs as he climbs onto the bed.

"Oh, hey, you're back," James replies, smiling again.

"I am," Regulus confirms, reaching out to cup his face, gently wiping it. James mumbles about it
being a little cold, and Regulus says sorry in a soft voice, and then James' face is clean, and his
eyes open, and he's right there, so beautiful, and Regulus loves him.

Regulus really and truly loves him like no other. Like never before. Like he never will again. It's
terrifying. It's exhilarating. It is, and perhaps always was, inevitable.

"Look at you," James whispers, "looking at me like that."

"How am I looking at you?" Regulus whispers back, even though he already knows he's looking at
James like nothing more, and nothing less, than a man in love.

James surveys him and says, gently, in this tender space they've carved out for themselves, "I don't
know a name for it yet."

"You'll learn," Regulus tells him. "Let me know when you do."

"Alright," James agrees, shuffling closer to touch him, wrap his arms around him and keep right on
looking at him, smiling now, sweet as powdered sugar. "I think now's as good a time as any—
possibly the best time—but remember that date I wanted to ask you out on that I mentioned earlier?
What are my chances of that happening?"

Regulus winds his arms around James' shoulders, humming with mock thoughtfulness. "I'd say
fifty-fifty. It's a yes or no question, you see, meaning it could go either way."

"Well, now I have to ask, just to know which way it'll go." James' lips curl up. "Go out with me."

"That's not a question."

"Please?"

"There you go." Regulus leans in and lets their foreheads meet in the middle with a small tap.
"Yeah, alright. Where are we going?"

James proceeds to all but tackle him to the bed, making Regulus yelp, which tapers off into a
muffled hum of immediate approval as James kisses him deeply, with tongue, then pulls back,
beaming, to say, "No idea, but I guess we'll figure it out when we get there," and then dives right
back in to kiss him again, and again, and again.

And, god, Regulus loves being twenty-two.

In the end, everything after isn't comparable to anything before it, and perhaps hasn't been in some
time. It's not a cycle being broken, just a journey that started with a smile and an open door, and the
end is far enough away that they can't even see it. They have a lot of life left to live before they get
close, and life, as you know, goes on.

James takes a couple of weeks before he comes out to anyone who isn't Regulus, trying to settle
into it and feel a sense of conviction and maybe figure it out fully. He confesses, by the end, that
he's done exactly none of those things, but he still wants to tell Sirius anyway. Sirius and Remus
and Peter. Those three, if no one else.
Regulus lets him do whatever he wants, at his own pace, not pushing him. One little benefit of
being accustomed to wanting pretty, straight boys is that he just so happens to like secrets, and
sneaking around, and little forbidden encounters that aren't actually forbidden at all, but feel that
way, slightly, because he knows he can't tell a soul about it—and he likes that. Those two weeks
(nearly three) where James is still working things out, and trying to give this new thing between
them the space to breathe, Regulus is having the time of his life conducting intricate fantasies in his
head of him and James running around in secret with some grand, forbidden love no one could ever
find out about, lest they be torn apart and kept away from each other. It's all very silly and dramatic
and—well, gay, honestly. But that's okay. It's fun for him, and that's all that matters.

Anyway, in the end, James comes out to his friends—Sirius first, then Remus and Peter at the same
time—and, naturally, they're all very supportive. More than that, they don't make it a big deal, or
have a long list of questions about how he knew, how long he waited to come out, or anything of
the sort. James is relieved, honestly, and this spurs him on to do the next thing, which is take all
those fun, silly little fantasies of their forbidden love that Regulus had and crush them to dust with
no remorse.

Regulus allows it, because—realistically—it had to happen at some point, if they intend to
seriously date, and since they're about a month into doing just that, it seems like the correct course
of action. Regulus is so fucking scared that he almost backs out a total of four times, and James
keeps gently reminding him that they don't have to do it just yet; they could wait, they could—

"No," Regulus rasps, then reaches up to knock on his brother's door, heart racing wildly in his
chest.

Sirius answers the door with a scowl, which doesn't put Regulus at ease, but it becomes apparent
very quickly why he's scowling; his neck is littered in bruises and bite marks, hair a mess, half-
dressed and obviously interrupted in the middle of…spending time with Remus. He doesn't seem to
have the patience for Regulus or James right now, glaring out at them with no small amount of
annoyance.

"Ah," James says, choking on a laugh, "terrible time to drop in on you, huh?" He leans forward,
grinning as he starts yelling into the house. "Hi, Remus! Sorry to interrupt!"

"Go away!" Remus shouts back, sounding close to tears.

James leans back and raises his eyebrows at Sirius. "Damn, what did you do to the poor man?"

"Many things, and more to come, if only I wasn't interrupted," Sirius snaps, huffing as he reaches
out to circle his hands over each other in the universal motion for hurry the fuck up. "If it isn't life
or death, I really don't care. What do you want?"

Regulus nudges James, eyes on his feet.

"Oh, ah, we're dating. Together. As a couple. Um, boyfriends?" James says, looking a little startled
by the end, then bemused, then rather delighted. "Yeah. Huh. I have a boyfriend. Sounds so odd,
but—well, yeah, I do. So, yeah, we were coming to tell you about that—"

"Okay, great, good for you," Sirius cuts in impatiently.

Regulus' head snaps up. "Wait, really? That's it?"

"Remus Lupin is naked in my bed right now. Nothing matters more to me than that," Sirius informs
him, then proceeds to give them a rushed goodbye and congratulations before promptly, and with
no remorse, slamming the door in their faces.

"Well," Regulus says, staring blankly at the door and coming to the swift conclusion that he spent
so much time worrying how Sirius would react, only for Sirius to not react at all. It's largely
preferable to being cast out, or turned away as undeserving of acceptance, the way it went last time,
the way he was utterly fucking terrified it would go this time—and Sirius promised it would never
happen again, not with him, that he wasn't going anywhere, but it's a huge relief to have the proof
of that nonetheless.

"Well," James echoes, sounding oddly relieved as well, like he's just dodged a beating, or a bullet.

"Boyfriend?" Regulus asks, glancing over at him.

James chews his lip, looking at him from the corner of his eye. "Is that okay? Aren't—I mean, isn't
that what you are? To me?"

"Your boyfriend?" Regulus says.

"Yeah," James mumbles, a tiny shift in his expression that makes Regulus' stomach swoop,
because he knows that look; he knows what James is thinking about when his eyelids droop like
that, and his gaze seems darker suddenly; he knows exactly what it means when James turns into
him and reaches out to touch his waist, hand over hip, sliding around to his back. "Yeah, mine. I—
like that."

"I can tell, you possessive bastard."

"Well, it's okay, because you like it, too. Look at you; yeah, you do."

Regulus does, because he's never been anyone's boyfriend before, and he's never had one before
either, and he feels like a fucking idiot for being so excited about it. Giddy, like a lovestruck
teenager a few years too late to actually be one, and far too miserable and cynical to ever indulge in
feeling like this, but love is no joke, because he's feeling it—and he's relieved, almost, that he's
getting to. He never really had the chance growing up back home.

Considering the current look James is giving him and Regulus' complete lack of self control when
it comes to James all around, it's not that unexpected that they end up making out on Sirius and
Remus' front stoop, until Regulus pulls him back to the truck quickly and keeps his hand high on
James' thigh the whole way home.

Later, of course, Sirius responds properly, when he has the time and patience to do so. He gives
James and Regulus a shovel talk at the same time and goes on and on about how he can make
murder look like an accident, but overall, he seems genuinely happy for them, pleased that things
worked out. His only protests before, his only reasons for disapproval, was due to his worry that
they'd accidentally hurt each other—and they did, to be fair, so it's not like his worries were
entirely unfounded, but Sirius and Regulus both know the beauty of forgiveness enough by now to
let things go and carry on.

And then, well, everyone sort of just knows James and Regulus are together, even fucking
Kingsley over in London because James posts a picture of him and Regulus where Regulus is
ignoring him and focusing on his own phone, but holding his hand all the while; he tags Regulus in
it, and Kingsley sees it that way, commenting: fifth time's the charm? with a skull emoji, to which
Regulus responds with a very simple, but poignant: mind your business.

It's all in good fun, though, really. They chat a little bit, catching up, checking on each other, then
carry on with their lives. James isn't very pleased about the exchange, in the sense that he gets all
stiff and polite again, though he doesn't protest Regulus having friends; he's just in an unfortunate
situation where Regulus pointedly works him up with lies about visiting London, which in turn
makes James get that just-right level of cocky and arrogant that drives Regulus fucking insane. It
probably wouldn't be persistently attractive to Regulus long-term if James was like that constantly,
all the time, but he's not. He's just—he's so lovely. So, so lovely.
James is—well, he's obsessed with Regulus, and he's made it very obvious by now. He wants to
look at him all the time, talk to him, be around him, and definitely touch him in some way or
another, even something innocuous like their ankles hooked around each other. He can spend
fucking hours on end with Regulus and still miss him when he has to go to work. He's not rude or
demanding about it, however. When Regulus is going out with Pandora, James tells him to have
fun and be safe. When James is going out for a night with 'his boys', he tells Regulus he'll be home
soon, kisses his cheek, and only calls or texts if something happens that he finds hilarious enough
to share immediately. It's not as if they're up under each other all the time, but it's blatant that, if
they were, James wouldn't mind in the least.

And the sex is marvelous, too. They haven't done anything outside of just hands and mouths.
They've been taking it slow in that regard, at James' chagrined request, because sure, he was eager
to try it in theory, and then he thought about it enough to become unsure, and so Regulus tells him
they'll just do it whenever he's ready, or not, if he never is. Regulus, on the other hand, has already
been fucked by Kingsley, and knows he likes it, so he's more than willing to do it with James. This
turns out to be a blessing in disguise.

Sex with Kingsley was always experimental, and exciting, and fun; it's the same with James for the
most part, except for—well, one thing sex never was with Kingsley was intense. There was a lack
of passion there that he and James have overwhelming amounts of, by comparison. It's not always
that way, as Regulus is sometimes tired from work, or they're just in tender moods, so the sex is
soft and sweet and cozy, murmuring to each other between quiet gasps, curled close as they drift
off in a haze of gentle bliss. But, most of the time, they're going at it like the world is ending.

James is an attentive lover and always wants to participate, never one to be still and lie back and let
things happen without touching and returning the favor, plus he's a curious, lovely thing about
what he's never done before, so working out the mechanics of penetrative sex with Regulus at the
receiving end turns out to be a good time for him. He loves to touch; loves to be involved; loves
learning new things and becoming a pro at them; loves, loves, loves making Regulus feel good, so
it becomes something they both love to do, and James just agrees to let him know when he's ready
to give it a try.

To be clear, when he is ready, he's a little shit about it.

Regulus has to work on his birthday, which is fine, honestly. He's already been treated to dinner by
Remus, specifically him, because Regulus' eye started twitching when Sirius jovially offered to
cover the whole meal. This made Remus hastily cut in to cover the bill, as if he and Sirius don't
have a joint bank account—a fact that Regulus is aware of, but ignores for the sake of his own
sanity, and pride.
In any case, the dinner was very nice, just people there that Regulus was fully comfortable in the
presence of, meaning Sirius, James, Remus, Peter, and Pandora. Kingsley sent him a happy
birthday text and checked in on him, updated him a little about how things are going for him in
London; he has apparently met a lovely woman by the name of Sybill, who he's smitten with.
James was elated by the news, as if he and Kingsley were buddies all along.

Sirius was not allowed to give Regulus money for his birthday, because when he tried, Regulus
pitched a fit that had even James begging Sirius to put his wallet away. So, instead, Sirius grumpily
gave Regulus the card he bought (which he intended to put money inside of), but only after he
borrowed a pen from the server at the diner and doodled a terrible stick-figure picture of Regulus
with horns and fangs, leaving a note that said: for my bitch of a brother, as long as you owe me, i'm
not broke!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Regulus kept it, and will keep it forever, because he always does.

Later, on his actual day of birth, he drags himself into work and is admittedly warmed by the fact
that Pandora tosses her hands up and squeals before fervently wishing him a happy birthday from
her and her boyfriend—yes, the one in prison that she visited the week prior, so she's especially
lovey-dovey as of late. Annalise pins a pink It's My Birthday! ribbon to his shirt and, when he
protests and tries to take it off, she slaps his hand away and tells him to wear it, because he'll get
better tips, which does, in fact, make him leave it on. Dorcas gives him a clipped, but no less warm,
happy birthday and seems to only just refrain from telling him to get back to work. Marlene makes
him something to eat without him having to ask, knowing exactly what he likes, despite the fact
that she still doesn't know his name.

All-in-all, everyone's especially nice to him that day, and he does get notably better tips, plus a
whole lot of his regulars say kind things to him that actually makes this job seem like maybe it's not
the worst thing in the world. How he has regulars, he has no idea, but there are people who come in
and want him, specifically, to wait on them. He has his favorites; a group of four bikers that cuss
like sailors and suck down tea so fast that he already knows to leave the small pitcher at the table
for them; an older couple that have been coming here for going on twenty years and make him
believe love really does exist, because they hold hands between their walkers and gaze at one
another with such adoration that it's palpable; two sisters that come in and tell him all the drama in
their lives, which would be annoying if it wasn't so engaging that he's actually invested enough to
know people in their lives by name and keep up with all the gossip as if he's involved in any of it in
any way, even though he's not.

Anyway, about halfway into his shift, he sneaks out the back door to take a break. It's usually
reserved for those who smoke, and on bad days, Regulus actually considers picking up the habit
just to have the excuse to escape, except Marlene—who did that very thing and now is a smoker—
has reliably informed him that this plan backfires when one needs a cigarette, but it's too busy to
have one. So, wisely, Regulus has refrained, and just goes outside to check his phone, enjoying the
sun and fresh air, needing to not be in there.
He's in the middle of lazily scrolling on his phone when there's the sound of someone clearing their
throat, not at the back door, but from the direction facing the parking lot, thankfully where people
can't see him. Usually, no one comes back here who doesn't work here, so he jolts and whips his
head around in surprise, then springs to his feet in startled, reflexive delight to see James.

"Hey," Regulus blurts out, "what are you doing here?"

James grins at him. "Came to see you. I went inside, but they said you were out back. Slacking on
your job?"

"Every chance I get. I'm allowed today," Regulus says, reaching up to tap the ribbon on his chest.

"Oh, that's cute," James replies, warmed. He inches closer, then pauses. "Uh, am I allowed back
here?"

"Yeah, come here, it's fine," Regulus tells him, and James instantly moves forward to come right to
him, wrapping his arms around him and kissing the top of his head. Regulus hums and leans into
him, some of the tension bleeding out of his frame. He associates James with home, being off
work, so his presence is soothing. "Came to see me, huh? What about? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything is perfect," James tells him, brushing his lips over Regulus' cheek. "Mm, you
smell nice."

"I smell like food."

"I love food."

Regulus huffs a laugh and shakes his head. "You're ridiculous."

"Mhm," James hums distractedly, hands slipping down his back to pluck at his apron strings.

"James."
"Sorry. You know what this does to me."

"You're ridiculous," Regulus repeats, lips curling up. He reaches back to swat James' hands away,
ignoring his pout. "Are you hungry? Did you plan to come in? If so, I'm making Pandora wait on
you."

James chuckles. "No, you won't. You'll wait on me, and give me excellent service, just hoping I'll
come back to see you again."

"Don't you start," Regulus mumbles, almost speaking into James' neck, hiding a hot face there and
taking a steadying breath. It's so fucking stupid, but to this day, Regulus gets worked up at any
reminder of how pathetic he is about James, unable to resist him in any capacity, the sheer fucking
temptation of him. "I'm at work."

"I know," James says, his voice low, plucking at those damn strings again, and Regulus groans,
letting his head thunk down on James' shoulder and earning himself another laugh. "Oh, this is fun.
I should stop by more often."

"Did you even have a reason to come pester me?"

"Yes, actually."

Regulus huffs, lifting his head. "Which was?"

"Well," James says, meeting his eyes, "I want to have sex."

"I—" Regulus blinks and needs a second to reboot. James is grinning at him, the bastard. "Well,
great, but like I just said, I'm at work."

James nods. "Yeah, I know, but I mean—I want to try switching things around. I told you I'd let
you know when I was ready to do that." He pauses, blinks innocently, and adds, "I'm ready."
"James, why the fuck would you—" Regulus stifles another groan, hating his stupid fucking
uniform, because he's hot and it feels restricting; he wants to take it off and just be naked, in bed,
with James—like right now, preferably. "Oh, fuck you."

"That's the idea," James replies, eyes sparkling.

"I'm at work, I'm—I can't do shit about this, and you—" Regulus huffs out a harsh breath, wound
up already, brain fixated on this now, and James is so close, he smells so good, he's so beautiful—

"I just wanted you to know," James murmurs, pulling him closer, ducking his head to speak in the
intimate space between where their cheeks are pressed together. "I've been thinking about it. Been
thinking about you all day, baby."

"You're the devil," Regulus whispers, even as he tilts his head, seeking and searching and salivating
for it, breathless with want, coming undone just that fast, just like that; pathetic, fucking pathetic,
and only more desperate because of it.

James is grinning like a devil, no pointy horns and pitchfork, just shaped like everything Regulus
wants. He gives it to him, too, meets his mouth with his own, pouring himself into it in the way
that has Regulus' head spinning immediately. The world swirls down a drain with a gurgling noise,
a lazy glub, and Regulus goes down with it, spit out into the ocean that tosses him from wave-to-
wave. Drowning. Always drowning in James Potter, and never eager to come up for air.

Regulus finds himself backed up against the side of the building, winding himself around James,
hand in his hair and leg hitched up to his hip; James' hand is hooked around his knee, giving him
support, making it easier for him to slot closer. The apron crinkles up, coins clinking together in his
pocket, his little server book where he writes his orders slipping up from the middle part and
pressing into his stomach. James uses his free hand to grab the apron string where it's tight around
Regulus' hip, fitting his fingers there, getting a grip he uses to yank harsh enough to drag Regulus
closer.

"I'm at work," Regulus chokes out when they break apart minutely to get some air. "If you make
me lose this job—"

"Fuck this job," James says mindlessly, hazy-eyed, diving back in to kiss him again, and when he
puts it like that, Regulus can't help but agree. Fuck this job, indeed.
Nevermind that this job is sort of essential to Regulus surviving without the generosity of others.
James would happily take care of him, and has made that clear, but Regulus' pride won't allow it.
For one, they haven't been dating long enough, in his opinion, to warrant him just moving in with
James. He'd told James that he wouldn't move in with him until he's paid off his car and paid Sirius
back, which—by Regulus' calculations—would take about five years. James had given him the big
eyes, then, and so he knocked it down to just the stipulation of waiting until he's paid Sirius back in
full (despite Sirius repeatedly telling him to be like Elsa and let it go), and just that should—
according to his calculations—take between eight months and a year and half. James' big eyes went
away, then, and he seemed more content with that timeline. Which, fair enough, because Regulus
is, too. That's a suitable time to take the next step, he thinks, and it's just—nice, planning a future
with someone.

And, well, Regulus complains a lot about his job, but he also doesn't know what else he'd rather
do. Never had the chance growing up to form dreams of his own, or take an interest in anything, or
discover a talent in something other than sinning. He feels so behind in life now, lost and listless in
a job the world looks down its nose at, but the thing is—well, the thing is, he's…not miserable.

Customer service is always labeled as a "dead-end" profession, people stuck in it because they
have nowhere else to go, and maybe that's what got Regulus there, but it's—it's good for him, he
thinks. Because, yes, he's forced to go in and plaster on a smile and pretend he's happy, but then
you do that enough and, eventually, it starts to feel true. It starts to feel real. The smiles come
easier; the good days are good, and the bad last until the next day comes along, and then it can be
anything. His work is the amalgamation of routine and rarity; it's the same every day, and different
every day; he meets people who are just like countless people he's poured coffee for, and he meets
people unlike any other he'll ever meet again. And, despite who he is, and his demeanor, he's
shockingly good at his job. Had to be, or else he wouldn't be, but through sheer force of will, he is.

Regulus doesn't know where life will take him, if he'll ever want or need anything other than this,
but this…

This isn't so bad.

A year ago, he could have never imagined that he would feel this way, and he can't be sure he will
a year from now, but this dead-end profession of his feels more like a revolving door of possibility.
He swears every day that he's going to quit, and then he shows up the next day to do it all over
again. It's draining, it's awful on his body, but it's his. He's made it his, and for now, he's not letting
it go.

However, with James sucking on his tongue, it's a little hard to remember this feeling, which
wouldn't necessarily be a problem if the back door didn't swing open.
"Ahem," and, shit, that's Dorcas.

"Oops," James breathes out, backing off an inch to stare at Regulus with wide eyes, his mouth
swollen and wet.

"Regulus," Dorcas states firmly, "my office, now."

"Right, yep, coming," Regulus mumbles, wanting to crawl in a hole and die. He pushes James
back, shaking his head sharply when James visibly starts to apologize, clearly panicked. "Go home,
James."

"Reg—"

"It's okay, I'll see you later."

Regulus waves James off, not actually angry at him, since it takes two to tango, as that saying goes.
James looks apologetic anyway, but he does start backing away as Regulus takes the walk of
shame back into work, where he is still clocked in, where he has essentially just been paid a little
bit of pocket change to make out with his boyfriend. Objectively, this is hysterical.

Dorcas leads him into her office and shuts the door, sitting down in her chair and swiveling to face
him, eyes narrowed behind her glasses, so uptight that it boggles the mind how she and Marlene
even—make sense. "As I'm sure you're very aware, nowhere does it say that conducting intimate
activities with someone while on the clock and on the property is in your job description."

Regulus stares at her.

Oh, she has to be joking.

"I understand that your boyfriend may have wanted to stop by and see you for your birthday, but
this is not the time or the place for that. You're here to work. You're not getting paid to be with
him, and you could be fired for conducting yourself as you just did with him," Dorcas informs him
without even a stutter, not even blinking.
"Fired," Regulus repeats.

"Yes," Dorcas confirms.

Regulus runs his tongue over his teeth, scoffing. "Before or after you get fired for all the times
you've fucked your own employee?"

Mm, he perhaps should not have said that. He probably wouldn't have if the hypocrisy didn't piss
him off. He was surrounded by hypocrites his whole life, so he has a distaste for it.

Yeah, he's probably about to get fired.

Except—Dorcas' mouth twitches. Not down, but up. Almost a smile. Regulus is pretty sure he's
never seen that before since he's known her. He has absolutely no idea what it means.

Dorcas leans back in her chair, regarding him in silence for a while longer, then abruptly says, "I'm
being transferred to the other location across town next week."

"What?" Regulus blurts out in reflexive dismay, because he doesn't like change, and also Dorcas is
a good manager, hypocrisy aside. Her mouth twitches into that smile again as he stares at her in a
mixture of helpless disbelief and horror. "You're leaving us?"

"I am," Dorcas says.

"Why?" It's a whine. Regulus doesn't even care that it's a whine, and that he should be ashamed,
because why? No more Dorcas means a new manager they'll all have to get used to. It'll be a
nightmare.

"Well, I asked for the transfer because I can't seem to stop, as you put it, fucking my own
employee," Dorcas tells him wryly.

Regulus opens his mouth, then closes it, then mumbles, "Oh."
"Having a relationship with Marlene puts not only my job at risk, but hers, but it's perfectly fine if
I'm not her boss," Dorcas tells him, then heaves a sigh. "Listen, I know I'm a hard-ass, hard to work
with, hard to work for, I'm very aware—but I tell you the shit I'm required to tell you, and do my
job just like the rest of you. Before Marlene, I never really…struggled with that." She shrugs lazily,
looking more relaxed than he's ever seen her. "But love tends to make a mess of things, I've
learned."

"Right," Regulus says faintly. "So, um, I'm not in trouble?"

Dorcas rolls her eyes. "No, you're not in trouble, and you weren't going to be. I was going to give
you a little speech, then let you go, no big deal. You're one of the good ones; don't tell anyone I
said this, but I liked working with you better than the rest."

Regulus blinks. "Really?"

"Mhm."

"Not Marlene?"

"Oh, no, I hate working with her," Dorcas tells him. "She drives me fucking nuts. I'm a stickler and
she's too laid-back. But that's besides the point. My point is, don't make out with your boyfriend
where I can catch you, because then I'm sort of required to reprimand you for it. Plus, I've been
keeping everything running smoothly to cover my own ass, but don't tell anyone I said that either."

A startled laugh tumbles out of Regulus' mouth, and he stares at her incredulously. That twitching
smile of hers grows until it's a full one, and oh, damn, he's actually going to miss her.

"You know, um, you—you could probably get away with staying here and still…being with
Marlene," Regulus tells her. "No one ever said anything. There's a reason for that. No one wants
you to leave."

Dorcas hums. "I know, but I don't want to sneak around with her forever. She doesn't mind, but it'd
be nice to be able to be with her, you know? Don't worry too much about me leaving. I know the
manager they're swapping me with; you'll all love him. He's fun."

"You'll, um, be missed, though. Just so you know."

"Yeah, I know. The feeling will be mutual."

Regulus clears his throat. "Right, well, I'm assuming you don't want me to mention any of this?"

"I'd be grateful if you didn't. I'm going over it in a meeting tomorrow, so you won't have to keep
quiet for long. Think you can keep it to yourself until then?" Dorcas asks.

"Yes," Regulus says.

Dorcas nods, gives that mouth twitch again, then adopts a stern look and says, "Good. Now get
back to work."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Regulus leaves her office. When he gets back out front, Pandora
informs him that he's been double-sat and one is a ten-top. Regulus internally asks god what he did
to deserve this, immediately has multiple answers, then blows out a deep breath, slaps on a smile,
and gets back to work.

Four hours later, Regulus arrives home to find James already there, almost instantly launching into
questions and apologies before Regulus can even get in the door.

"James, stop, it's fine, everything is fine. I still have my job, I didn't get in trouble, there's nothing
to worry about," Regulus informs him as he unties his apron. James deflates in relief. "We'll talk
about it later. First, I'm going to get a shower, and you are going to get in bed, completely
undressed, and wait for me there."

"Oh." James' breath hitches. "Okay. Yes, okay. Okay."

One shower later, Regulus is walking into his room as naked as the day he was born—birthday
couture—where James is indeed waiting for him, propping up on his elbows as soon as Regulus
comes through the door. He bites his lip, watching, heavy-lidded.

"My eyes are up here," Regulus reminds him, crawling onto the bed.
"Yes, and they're beautiful," James says dutifully, his gaze still locked right on Regulus' dick. He
shakes his head, sounding mystified as he mumbles, "How did I ever think I was straight? I'm, like,
offended?"

Regulus laughs, because it's always so funny when James makes little comments like that. These
days, being straight is what he finds unbelievable, versus—well, not. He got used to it, Regulus
supposes, and now it repeatedly baffles him that he thought he was . It's cute, as well as relatable.
Yeah, Regulus definitely gets it.

"Oh, hey," James announces in palpable delight when Regulus basically climbs on top of him, right
in his lap. James beams up at him and leans in to knock their foreheads together like they're just
two bros celebrating after a sports game. To be clear, this should not turn Regulus on. It does
anyway.

"Hey," Regulus replies, then cuts out the rest of the formalities to tuck his head down and kiss
James like he means business.

He does, in fact, mean business.

As usual with them, things get intense pretty fast, but Regulus still checks to make sure this is
something James wants to do, and James assures him that it is. Regulus intends to take care of him,
to make it as good for him as possible, and finds that it's not hard to do. It turns out that James is
really into it. Like, really into it.

So into it, in fact, that he comes before Regulus can even work a second finger into him along with
the first. Apparently, he only needed the one to send him flying over the edge.

Regulus loves this, of course. It fascinates him, just how quickly it makes a mess of James,
reducing him to whimpers and whines, gasping and writhing, his face broken open with pure
rapture. It very quickly caps out as the new most erotic experience of his life, and as soon as James
chokes out a moan and deflates back to the bed, Regulus immediately wants to do it again.

"Shit, fuck, I—" James struggles to push himself up, chest heaving, mouth hanging open in
comical shock. "I didn't last. I was supposed to—I didn't know I wouldn't last. Baby, you can't tell
anyone."

Regulus proceeds to burst out laughing.

"Oh god," James wheezes, flopping back down and covering his face with his hands. "You're
laughing. I came too fast, and you're laughing—"

"I'm not, I swear I'm not," Regulus says, while still laughing, unable to stop it. James half-turns on
his front to bury his face into the pillows, making muffled dramatic noises of despair. "James—"

"I'm never going to recover from this. This is crushing. Debilitating. Soul-destroying," James
declares, the words muffled into sheets, body lax and loose as Regulus stretches up to try and peek
at his face, all while still trying to swallow laughter. "I didn't know, okay? I had no idea it would
be that good! Stop laughing at me!"

"Okay, okay, I'll stop, I'm stopping," Regulus mumbles, doing his very best, and only managing by
half. James remains a deflated lump that Regulus sprawls out over, kissing his shoulder, the curve
of his neck, and then behind his ear. "Hey, come on, look at me."

"I'll die."

"James."

Huffing, James turns his head to peek at him out of one visible eye, clearly still flustered. "No one
can know."

"No one will know," Regulus assures him, amused.

"Is it—please tell me that happens to everyone," James says weakly.

Regulus is so fond. "I mean, all bodies are different, James. You're definitely not the only person
who came when they discovered their prostate the first time. Pretty sure that's not unheard of."

"Did you?"

"No."
James groans again, then abruptly turns over, looking like a man on a mission. "Okay, no, we're
doing this. Come on."

"Do you need a minute to—"

"Regulus."

Stifling another laugh, Regulus situates himself back between James' legs, fumbling around for the
lube. He pauses and folds forward to kiss the pout off James' face, knowing this is a blow to his
ego for some reason, ridiculously enough, and helplessly soft about it. He doesn't draw away until
James has relaxed fully, too caught up in the kiss to care about his ego at all, humming and trying
to coax him closer.

The second time goes as James clearly hoped the first would. He lasts long enough for Regulus to
actually make it to the fucking him portion of it, which may or may not have something to do with
the fact that he's come already. Jesus, he really likes this.

Regulus does, too, and can't hide that fact when he's clutching at James, lost in him, in the intensity
of it that surges up to claim them both. He tastes James' name between his teeth, biting into it like
forbidden fruit, sea-gold and sheer sin on his tongue. James grips his hair, scratches him, urges
him along with wanton abandon, begging and working for it just as hard as Regulus is. They rock
together like a ship tipping between tumultuous waves, crashing together over and over, too far
gone now to beg for forgiveness, and having absolutely fucking nothing to be forgiven for. Not
this. God, not this.

They come together, wringing it out of each other, skin slick with sweat, hands all over each other,
James mindlessly babbling until he falls silent at the peak, head tipping back as his mouth opens,
slack on a breathless moan caught in his throat, and just the sight of that alone is enough for
Regulus to lose his last shred of sanity, and the flimsy grip he had on his building release, which he
was holding back through sheer stubbornness. He can't keep it together when James fails to, and
they fall to pieces right there in each other's arms, clinging to one another through the earth-
shattering, toe-curling, mind-blowing sort of experience that leaves them shaking after.

Regulus' ears ring for some time, following that. He's so exhausted that he goes limp on top of
James, pleasantly sore, shivery from the aftershocks. James is as exhausted as him, because he's
very clingy after sex, Regulus knows this, but all he manages to do is weakly toss his arm across
Regulus' back in a wordless demand for Regulus to stay. Regulus does, of course; he stays right
there, catching his breath and sinking into post-orgasmic bliss. James is clearly doing the same;
he's so quiet, which is unusual, simply breathing.
They simply breathe.

And then, eventually, James gets the giggles. It's like he's high, all smiley and giggly and pleased,
wanting to play in Regulus' hair and wanting to give Regulus sweet kisses and wanting, essentially,
to spoil Regulus—which Regulus does not protest in the least. He does, however, have to cut it
short, because they need to clean up.

They do. They throw on pajama pants afterwards, then go into the kitchen, because James wants a
snack after sex, almost every time, depending on the time of day. His favorite is cereal, chocolate
Cheerios to be more specific, which will never not be funny to Regulus. James finishes a bowl of it
in record time (with Regulus stealing bites), and then they go crawl right back into bed.

"So," James says very seriously, once they're across from each other, hands tucked under their
heads, gazing at one another, his eyes bright behind his glasses, "how was work?"

And Regulus has to duck his head as another helpless laugh steals him, traveling through his body,
feeling it sink into him and light him up from the inside out. So much laughter with James;
freedom and free will; the rejoicing kind of joy one can't get enough of.

"What?" James asks, laughing now, too. A warm, deep chuckle in his chest just begging for a kiss,
and Regulus dips his head to grant its wish. He puts his mouth over the beat of James' heart and
cherishes that it's there. "Regulus?"

"Nothing," Regulus murmurs, lifting his head to gaze at him, chest pulsing with warmth. "Nothing,
just you."

James' face softens. He says, gently, "There you go, looking at me like that again. Always looking
at me like that."

"Have a name for it yet?"

"Think so."

Regulus pauses for a moment. If James could feel his heart now, he'd feel it skip a beat. "You
 think?"

"Mhm." James smiles at him. "I think you look at me the way I feel about you, and that—well, that
has a name."

"How do you feel about me?" Regulus whispers.

"I'm in love with you," James says simply, with ease, like this isn't surprising to him, like he never
expected anything else to happen, like his whole life was waiting with a carved out space for
Regulus to fit into. He is not ashamed. He is not scared. He's in love.

"Yeah," Regulus croaks, "you've got it right. Same name."

James breaks out into a sunny smile, rocking forward to bump their noses together, reaching out to
tangle their fingers together in the space between their bare chests. "I love the way you look at me.
I hope you never stop looking at me like that."

"I won't," Regulus vows, and knows it's true, knows that if he knows nothing else. He reaches up to
cup James' cheek, push his hand into James' hair, draw James into a soft, slow kiss that makes his
eyes flutter shut—and he doesn't need to look to be sure. He'd know this, loving James, if he was
blind. In the dark. Lost at sea.

Regulus doesn't feel pressured to know much else. Life will go on, and he'll go along with it, and
he'll be alright. For now, there's just this, James pulling him closer, kissing him like a man in love.
Here is this, and here Regulus is, broke in a tiny apartment with a tiny car, never feeling trapped,
and richer in ways than he ever knew he could be. There's been good, there's been bad, and there
will be more of both on the way, but he'll welcome them; he'll take them as they come, and keep
getting to where he wants to go.

Where he'll end up, he doesn't know, but he's going to enjoy where he is now until he makes it
there.

After all, he's only twenty-three for so long.

Chapter End Notes

 well! that was fun!!!

oh james, my darling boy i love him so deerly, he is so special to me. and i think,
like, this was one of those things that like. it was a misunderstanding and blatant
miscommunication, all sprouting from past baggage and simple confusion etc etc. so,
just honest, human mistakes, but!!! it all worked out in the end

this was never meant to be a heavy fic anyway. i really did write it just because i
missed regulus and jegulus i love them so much it's actually unhealthy atp

anyway!!! hope everyone enjoyed, see u in the next one if you happen to be around!!!
hope everyone has a lovely weekend!!! (and if u are reading this when it is not the
weekend, then i hope u have a lovely not-weekend!!!)

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