Old fashioned lover girl

It was as if all of Remus’ life-long misfortune was actually amounting to something.

Regulus rubbed the bridge of his nose, the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen doing absolutely nothing for the killer headache brewing behind his eyes. Three back-to-back shifts at the clinic had left him feeling less like a functioning human and more like a walking zombie. His binder was chafing, his scrubs felt like sandpaper, and all he wanted to do was faceplant into a pillow for the next business week.

Instead, he was dealing with James Potter.

"Reg, I’m telling you, it’s a third-degree tragedy," James groaned, cradling his left hand against his chest as if it were a wounded bird. He was sprawled dramatically across the kitchen island, lip turned out in a pout that was entirely too large for a grown man. "The flames, they reached out for me. I saw the light."

"You burned your knuckles trying to grab a piece of garlic bread directly off the oven rack, James. Without a mitt," Regulus said, his voice flat and completely drained of energy.

"It was a tactical error! But the pain is real, Regulus. Where is your medical compassion?"

Regulus sighed, dragging his feet across the linoleum. He grabbed the first-aid kit from the upper cabinet and set it down with a soft click. Despite the exhaustion weighing down his limbs, his muscle memory took over. He gently took James’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his chest to inspect the damage.

It was, as expected, a mild first-degree burn. The skin was red and slightly irritated, but there were no blisters. James let out a sharp, entirely performative hiss as Regulus ran cool water over it in the sink.

"Hold still," Regulus murmured, his thumb lightly brushing the back of James's uninjured fingers to soothe him. "You're going to survive. I promise."

"Easy for you to say," James mumbled, though he immediately quieted down, his dramatic posture melting away as Regulus began to pat the skin dry with a clean cloth. James watched him closely, his hazel eyes softening as he noticed the dark circles under Regulus’s eyes and the slight slouch in his shoulders. "You look completely wiped, Reg."

"Because I am," Regulus replied softly. He applied a thin layer of soothing aloe vera gel to the burn, his fingers cool and precise. "So if you could refrain from fighting appliances for the next twelve hours, I’d really appreciate it."

James let out a soft, sheepish laugh. "Deal." He watched as Regulus carefully wrapped a light layer of gauze around his hand, securing it with tape. The domesticity of it made James's chest ache in the best way possible.

Once the tape was set, Regulus didn't immediately let go. He just leaned his forehead against James’s good shoulder, letting his eyes close. "Done. You're cured."

He does this to Matthias

Please enjoy my stupid silly contribution to this trend

The midday sun at the Potter house was unforgiving, but Regulus Black had refused to admit defeat until his skin was practically glowing in the dark. Now, he was sitting stiffly on the edge of the guest bed, looking thoroughly miserable and radiating heat like a radiator.

James walked in, carrying a bottle of aloe vera gel and a cold, damp washcloth. He took one look at Regulus’s bright red shoulders and winced sympathetically.

"I told you," James said, his voice a mix of fondness and a gentle 'I told you so' reprimand. "The July sun doesn't care how brooding and aristocratic you are, Reg. It will burn you."

"Shut up," Regulus muttered, though there was no real bite to it. He hissed slightly as James gently draped the cool washcloth across the back of his neck. The relief was immediate, and Regulus let out a quiet sigh, slouching forward just a bit.

"Hold still, I'm going to put the aloe on," James murmured, pouring a generous dollop of the green gel into his hands. He rubbed them together before carefully pressing his palms against Regulus’s sun-scorched shoulders.

Regulus tensed for a fraction of a second at the initial chill, but James’s touch was incredibly light and cautious. Slowly, under the soothing friction, the tight, angry heat of the sunburn began to ease. James moved his hands in slow, deliberate circles, making sure to cover every inch of damaged skin without applying too much pressure.

"You really need to start listening to me about this," James said softly, his thumbs sweeping across the base of Regulus's neck. "You're practically translucent, Reg. You can't just dive into a summer afternoon without any protection."

"I forgot," Regulus mumbled into his chest, looking anywhere but at James.

"Clearly," James chuckled softly. "But next time, we are doing a full inspection before you even step foot outside. You're wearing sunscreen. SPF 50. Minimum. And you’re reapplying it every two hours, even if I have to chase you down with the bottle."

Regulus rolled his eyes, but a faint, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "That sounds incredibly embarrassing."

"What's embarrassing is looking like a boiled lobster because you're too stubborn to wear lotion," James countered playfully, tapping the tip of Regulus's nose with a leftover bit of gel. "Seriously, though. Wear it next time. I hate seeing you in pain."

Regulus quieted down, the warmth in his chest suddenly having nothing to do with the sunburn. He nodded faintly. "Fine. Next time."