“Want to dance?” He motions toward the dance floor. It’s small and already packed with bodies grinding against each other. The perfect excuse to invade Sirius’ personal space.
“You mean—us?” A note of apprehension filters into the question.
“Sure,” James shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Sirius barks out a laugh. “Not sure the uncoordinated arm-flailing we performed at the Yule Ball in Hogwarts counts, mate.”
Mate.
James grinds his teeth so hard he can hear them creaking, but it’s better than releasing the scream haunting his vocal cords.
Mate.
He’s never resented a word as much as he does in this moment.
“All the more reason to show we’ve improved since then.”
Sirius laughs, throwing his arms around to indicate the space around them. “Show to who? Nobody here even knows us.”
“To each other. Nobody else matters anyway.”
Coming on too strong?
Possibly.
But his patience is fraying along the edges.
A couple more minutes of Sirius acting like this, like James is just a mate, a buddy, a person to grab a beer with, but nothing more, never more, and he’ll do something he’ll probably regret in hindsight, but which he will not be able to prevent.
Like yanking Sirius into his arms, all those solid six feet of his strong, lean body, and shutting him up with a kiss.
