greyeyedmonster18

It was refreshing, almost. Because Sirius hardly ever lost an argument. James was different though. Sirius would’ve had better luck arguing with a brick wall. And sure enough, a week before they were scheduled to attend the game, a parcel arrived. Bright blue and white in the Tornado’s colors, Harry instantly jumping out of his chair at the breakfast table to retrieve the package.

“What’d you buy me?” Harry asked with a wide grin, not quite finished with his bite of cereal, milk spilling down his chin as he spoke. He wiped his mouth with the neck of his t-shirt before attending to the owl at the window, and grabbing the package “What?” Harry asked, noticing the look on Sirius’s face as he sat back down at the table.

“Nothing, just hoping you remember the modern invention of napkins when you are at school…”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Yes, Dad.”

“I’ll have you pack some this term in case you forget and feel the urge to use your shirt again,” Sirius teased, and watched as Harry wrestled with the flaps of the package to get it open. There was no evidence on the label that James had been the one to send it at all, maybe taking Sirius’s suggestion after all to make it less obvious and extend the offer to purchase gifts to all fans attending the meet and greet. 

“Is it a new jersey?” Harry asked, giving up and handing the package across the table to Sirius, going back to his cereal.

“What makes you think I bought you something?”

“Because you always do.”

“Ah, but that was when you were always on your best behavior and didn’t leave the house without permission.” Harry made a face around his mouthful of cereal, “Must be part of our seats for the game…” Sirius ran his finger along the edge of the package and then again down the middle, splitting the tape open, Harry’s leg already bouncing underneath the table.

It was funny.

Because Harry hadn’t spent a day around James Potter, but had some how inherited all his habits.

James bounced his knee too. Sirius remembered occasions at the library where he had to put his hand on top of James’s kneecap just to stop it, a tell-tale sign that James was impatient and wanted to stop revising and find a room.

And even within the past months of interacting with James, Sirius had noticed he hadn’t grown out of it at all. 

Inside the package, there were more wrapped pieces, one with Harry written across the top, the second with Sirius in handwriting Sirius had come to recognize. Messier than it had been when they were in school.

Well, when you sign as many autographs as I do…

Sirius took out the part of the package labeled for Harry, closing the rest of contents back in, and handed it to him, “For you. Finish your break--” But Harry was already tearing into the paper, revealing a special edition shirt decorated for the Quidditch finals, the Tornados and Canons logos in one design. 

“Brilliant! You think if I wear it, they’ll sign the back after the game? Probably. I’m going to go try it on!” Harry said quickly before Sirius could even tell him to finish his breakfast first, Harry already halfway down the hall, and up the stairs judging by the sound of the footsteps. Sirius shook his head, and opened the flaps again on the package, pulling out the card addressed to him.

Sirius

Just something for the game. 

I’ll be home this morning. Come over. 

-JP

A tshirt that matched Harry’s. 

Sirius unwrapped the remaining package in the box, eyes widening and face flushing as he realized what it was.

“Did you get something too?” Harry’s voice interrupted, now dressed in the new t-shirt, and Sirius quickly sent the box to his bedroom at an alarming speed, skimming over the top of Harry’s head. 

“Hm? Oh, yes, the same shirt. Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you by matching,” Sirius attempted to recover, clearing his throat and hoping Harry was distracted enough not to notice the obvious pink on the top of Sirius’s cheekbones. 

“We can match for Quidditch, Dad,” Harry told him, “It’s different.”

“Of course.’

“Cool, isn’t it?”

Sirius cleared his throat again and stood up from the table, flicking his wrist to clear the contents of his own breakfast, deciding the dishes could be washed later. Much later. “I’ve got to run an errand, will you be okay here by yourself?”

Harry’s eyebrows skyrocketed, “You’re leaving me alone?”

“Probably against my better judgement, but if you’re worried, I could  floo call--”

“No! No. No, I don’t need to be watched,” Harry assured him, already bouncing on his heels. After his excursion, the time Harry could spend unsupervised had dwindled to mere minutes a day, Sirius even going as far to bring him to work. Harry lamenting in the corner of his office, hanging off a chair groaning and pretending to die of boredom.

I’ll do all the house chores for the rest of my life, anything is better than whatever this torture is.

“I’ll be back shortly,” Sirius told him, bending his headdown to catch Harry’s eyes with his own, “Shower, and we’ll go to Diagon Alley after as planned, yes? I shouldn’t be long.”

“You don’t have to tell me to shower.”

“Mhmm, sure, okay,” Sirius nodded with a teasing grin, walking past Harry and toward the front door.

“Hey! I shower!” Harry called to Sirius down the hall. His bike was charmed now, and they had both memorized the route. 

--

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Sirius asked, almost as soon as he walked through James’s front door, bending over to take off the black trainers on his feet. Somehow still looking impossibly expensive.

“You got my present,” James responded cheerfully, watching as Sirius didn’t even bother to look up, already visibly annoyed. It was James’s new favorite pastime--pressing Sirius’s buttons.

“Yes. At breakfast. With my child. You couldn’t have sent two packages?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I don’t know, I think the fun part is my child not--”

“Do you have a kid? I didn’t know.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sirius said, finally having his shoes off, standing up to walk over to James, pushing his chest with a single finger. Not hard enough to hurt, but just hard enough to emphasize his point and make James’s cock twitch.

“Such a naughty mouth, Black. You kissed your mother with that?” James said, shaking his head, taking in the sight of Sirius in dark denim jeans, dressed more casually than he usually was when their paths overlapped.

“Not if I could help it,” Sirius said, crossing his arms over his chest, “What did you tell your bloody assistant anyway? Be a dear and put a the special edition shirt in this package along with these,” Sirius dropped his voice down to a whisper, “sex toys?”

“Yes.” 

It hadn’t even been two months since they had first fucked on the floor of James’s house and Sirius Black started making frequent appearances in James’s life once again. 

Irresponsible and unshakable. Tthough they were older this time around. With lives and complications, and for those reasons were perhaps more careful then they would’ve been in the past. Still, it didn’t stop them. 

Didn’t stop James from sending post telling Sirius to come over.

Didn’t stop Sirius from extending invitations to muggle restaurants where they would play games over bolognese and glasses of wine.

And after finally making good on his word to respond to Harry’s incessant post, sending him tickets to a Quidditch game and offering an opportunity to meet him to hopefully acquiesce some of the curiosity, James had to take his chances. 

A secret only they knew.

“You’re a fucking a shit. You know that?” Sirius pushed him again, the two of the standing in the middle of James’s hallway, half-way to the sitting room, and for once, James couldn’t tell if Sirius was actually angry or upset.

“Relax,” he tried, putting his hands on top of Sirius’s shoulders, “I made the package myself and told her to send it off. I threw in a few other packages in the mix so she wouldn’t think anything of it.”

“Oh, great! I feel loads better about receiving…” 

“A dildo?” James chimed in with a grin, enjoying the way flush spread across Sirius’s handsome face. Irritated. Hot and bothered. A pride in completely unraveling Sirius Black.

“--In the post addressed specifically to me from you!” Sirius shrugged James’s hands off his shoulders, crossing his arms again. “So to my earlier question, are you out of your damn mind?” 

“Honestly, I’m feeling a little hurt you didn’t like my present,” James said, sticking his lower lip out to pout slightly. “I spent hours at a little shop searching for the perfect gift for the prettiest arse in all of London and--”

“Fuck off.”

“--you haven’t even said thank you. No manners. House of Black has really fallen from grace hasn’t it?”

“Hours?”

“Yes, even asked the shop witch for help, told her about you and me and our--”

“Fuck, you’re annoying,” Sirius said rolling his eyes at James’s grin again, and pinching the bridge of his nose as they finally made it to the sitting room, James plopping down on his couch, arms resting on the back of it. He hadn’t bothered putting a shirt back on after showering after returning home from morning practice. Hoping and knowing Sirius would be there just as he had proposed.

“I’m waiting.”

“For what?” Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion. 

“A thank you.”

“Thank you so much for sending me an explicit package to open in front of my teenager.”

“So you don’t like them?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So you do?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“You will.”

“You cannot do that, James.”

“Okay.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Okay,” James repeated, simply, smiling at Sirius from the couch. 

“I haven’t dated anyone in years, much less--” Sirius gestured aimlessly, almost afraid to say the word outloud.

“Shagged.”

“--anyone with Harry knowing and I cannot have you playing games like this where he is involved. This is already playing with fire and entirely irresponsible and we agreed--”

“I know what we agreed.”

Nobody can know.

“And yet!” Sirius said, throwing his hands into the air. “Stop smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“Sure.”

“James.” 

James laughed a little, taking his time to scan up Sirius’s entire body. Denim, a simple t-shirt, tattoos on Sirius’s biceps barely peaking out. Chest rising and falling as he started at James after having scolded him for such an egregious act. James spread his legs open on the couch, watching as Sirius’s eyes immediately glanced down at the movement. “Are you really upset?” James asked, “and I mean really. Not in a, this was kind of annoying, but I don’t mind the game, way. Like, in a really, honest to Merlin, I crossed a line way.”

“You can’t do that,” Sirius told him firmly, eyes meeting James’s own again. The latter.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“But you liked the gift, didn’t you? Even if you didn’t like how I gave it to you?”

“The shirt was splendid,” Sirius responded after a long silence, his head tilting to the side as he went back to looking at James once more. Entirely spread on the couch, inviting and waiting for Sirius to come closer.

“You’ll wear it to the game then?”

Sirius didn't say anything, only stepping forward to stand between James’s legs. A hand raked through James’s hair, still damp from his shower, not so gently pushing his head back so he could look up at Sirius, half-hard, and heart rate steadily increasing. “You’d like that.” A statement, not a question. Sirius already knew. 

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” Sirius said, hand still at the top of James’s head to keep him from moving. James couldn’t close his legs with Sirius between them. 

James swallowed, “Get yourself ready for me before the game, touch yourself, put the plug in…I’ll play the whole time thinking about you in the stands, cheering for me, watching me, all the way through after the game…pretending like we’re meeting for the first time in a area full of people, but I’ll know your arse has been stretched, and you are there, just waiting for me. And then you’ll come over and I’ll take my time with you until you’re begging for me.”

Until Sirius forgot every word except for James’s name, writhing beneath him on the bedsheets, screaming until his voice was raw.

Like the last times. James’s memory burned with Sirius’s hands grasping his headboard trying to hold on to anything as James pounded into him. Only for Sirius to get dressed after and silently return to Number 12 in the dead of night.

But at this moment, it was James who was wiggling on the couch under Sirius’s gaze, with every word he said about his plans for the package he had sent Sirius. The shirt was preventative, because James wasn’t sure he could even play through a game if Sirius had worn any merchandise with James’s name on it, his own ego and sex drive rivaling one another. Sirius leaned forward, pressing his lips softly to James mouth. Kissing down his neck, his chest, biting at both his nipples and James couldn’t help but let a tiny moan escape, thrusting his hips into Sirius’s thighs trying to get any bit of pressure. Sirius came back up to his mouth, kissing him once more.

“I’ll think about it,” Sirius said as he pulled away, releasing the hand in James’s hair and stepping back entirely. “I have to go.”

“What?”

“I have plans this morning,” Sirius explained with a teasing grin of his own as he walked out of the sitting room back toward the front door. James groaned as he got off the couch to follow him, erection painfully obvious in his running shorts. “I was only meant to be gone a half-hour and we’re dangerously close to our time.”

“Later today?”

Sirius’s eyes flicked down to look at James’s hands covering his crotch, and he bit down a smile, “I don’t think so.”

“You’re cruel.”

He shrugged, putting his shoes back on his feet, and standing up again to look at James again, hand coming to the side of his face, “Consider it payback, darling.”

“Shithead.” 

Sirius laughed loudly, patting James’s face lightly. “I’ll see you next week.”

--

Sirius kept one hand at the back of Harry’s neck as they waited in a closed off area outside of the Quidditch stadium, lined with security elves, tents draped over the perimeter blocking any cameras that might have been there. The game had ended with a spectacular firework show of blue and white and gold, James Potter scoring the winning goal just before a snitch was caught, the crowd erupting in a thunderous applause.

“How long do you think it took him to learn that trick? Do you think he would teach me? What if I wrote him again and asked? He sent us these tickets! Maybe if I’m annoying enough he’ll keep sending us stuff for the rest of my life until I’m eighteen and then he has to tell me if he’s my Dad or not. Isn’t that how it works?”

“I don’t think so, love,” Sirius told him.

“It’s okay, I don’t much care about that part…sort of. I haven’t decided yet. I just think its cool he wrote back at all and we’re here, so if I can--”

“Need I remind you I could have paid for us to be here?”

“Yes, but now you can use that money for a Christmas gift, or pocket money, or both. So really, I did us a favor.”

“Do I also need to remind you about writing him?”

“But he didn’t care! I told you he wouldn’t care! He gets loads of fan mail, sure its sent to a different address, but mine isn’t any different! I could write to the Quidditch stadium too, is that better? Do you think he gets mail there or--” Harry said, and Sirius tightened his grip on the back of Harry’s neck as another family passed by them in the tent, waiting for the players to emerge from the locker rooms, everyone eager to meet the winning team. “Do you think McGowan will sign my shirt even though they lost? Is now a bad time to ask. Probably.”

“I--”

Sirius tightened his grip for the second time on Harry as the small crowd of people inside the tent began cheering, and he tore off toward the entrance where dozens of Quidditch players were coming out of. 

“Come on, Dad!”

Sirius tried to focus on the pure joy radiating off Harry in this moment, watching as teenager waited for different players to come up to him, turning around so they could sign the back of his shirt. He tried to focus on Harry’s wide smile, chatting away, no doubt asking all the questions to the players that Sirius culdn’t answer. Fearless and bold, shaking players hands and congratulating them on their games.

He tried to focus on all of that, and not the bizarre chain of events that had led both of them here in first place. With Harry, asking for information about his maybe biological father. And Sirius. With a plug in his arse, trying not to minimize his movements, and stay calm.

Even as the man of the hour, James Potter left the tents.

Waving.

Smiling.

Bending down to talk to every single kid, spending extra time answering questions and signing brooms, and shirts, and photographs, and books, and anything the crowd could find to give him.

“There he is! What do I ask?” Harry asked him turning around, “About the trick? Oh! I know, does he know when a quaffle is going to make it when it leaves his hand? Or do you think he just kind of hopes? I’m a seeker, I dunno about scoring so…do you--”

“Nows your chance,” Sirius inclined his head as James finally made his way to where they were waiting, Harry’s shirt already covered with team signatures. 

Nobody knew.

Not a soul could tell.

But James’s eyes met Sirius’s first.

“It is nice to see you--” James started with a smile, taking Harry’s marker from him. 

“That was a great game!” Harry greeted loudly, and Sirius made a mental note to talk to Harry about interrupting people, “I didn’t even know where to look the last few seconds!”

“Well, I hope you chose to watch my winning goal.”

Prick.

“How do you do it?” Harry blurted, rattling off his laundry list of questions, ones Sirius hadn’t even been briefed on before they left his mouth. He focused on that. The questions. The answers. The laughter. Identical smiles, that he hoped everyone else would in the room would brush off as an uncanny resemblance the way they had been doing for years.

Not focusing on the sweat on James’s hairline, or the tight-fitting shirt and shorts James wore underneath his Quidditch robes. Or the muscles. Or anything else. He exhaled slowly through his mouth, offering a smile in James’s direction.

“Did you like the game?” James asked, extending his hand. Sirius took it, James immediately squeezing tightly as they shook. Congratulations. I've only thought of you for the past six hours.

“I was on the edge of my seat.”