✶ sirius

after a lifetime spent watching hockey, and briefly playing it before deciding it was not for him, regulus hardly bats an eye at the casual violence of the sport anymore. still, seeing the his boyfriend’s face break repeatedly as the hit is replayed from different angles on the jumbotron makes him wince— simultaneously sympathyic and empathetic, since he’s experienced the sensation himself before. it’s not pleasant. not that james is likely to waste time wallowing over something as insignificant as a broken nose, especially when they still have a game to win. as if to prove regulus’ point, james’ team pulls him away and launches at the player retroactively, giving regulus a perfect view of james’ face, or more specifically the blood staining his white teeth red as he grins devilishly at the player, unfazed and undaunted. the game starts back up as soon as james’ blood has been wiped up from the ice.

when the buzzer sounds, releasing the teams for their second intermission, regulus calmly stands and makes his way toward the locker room. duty calls.

“players and staff only,” the security guard tells him at the door.

“just tell them regulus black is here,” regulus says wearily. “they’re expecting me.”

the security guard looks at him suspiciously before disappearing inside, likely looking forward to returning and telling regulus he’s welcome to fuck right off.

regulus sighs heavily. oh the things he does for james potter.

the door opens quickly, and the thoroughly confused looking security guard re-emerges to usher him inside.

it takes him all of one second to locate james, even though he’s almost completely obscured by medical staffers making attempts to set his nose. he waves them off agitatedly before catching sight of regulus approaching. regulus knows james forgets his nose is broken because he smiles before his brain can remind him how poor of an idea that is— what the warning signs failed to do, the pain takes care of seconds later. he instantly winces, which likely hurts just as bad, and regulus hurries towards him.

“stop that, you idiot,” he hisses fondly, kneeling before james. he settles his hands on his knees, looking up at the bruised face before him.

“canb heb it,” james returns incomprehensively. there are two long wads of toilet paper stuffed up each nostril to slow the bleeding. regulus knows that’s all james would let them do until he got here. “‘m habby to see ew.”

“yeah i’m habby to see ew too,” regulus mocks him teasingly. “be happier if i didn’t have to do this shit anymore. don’t you know better than to get in the way of some asshole’s stick? you’re supposed to be a fucking professional!”

james looks affronted. “he swunb ah me.” he points to himself for emphasis.

“yeah, yeah,” regulus mumbles, knowing he’s putting off the inevitable.

“ew ready?” james asks him.

“are you?” he returns, deflecting. james almost smiles again, but nods for him to continue.

“hold on,” a physical trainer, new by the look of him, cuts in from behind. “he’s setting your nose?” the disbelief in his voice echoes around the room. regulus might feel offended if he didn’t also agree with this sentiment.

“he has to,” peter, their goalie replies harshly. as if the medical professional is the crazy one here.

the poor guy looks around helplessly, suddenly the recipient of every players harsh glare.

“but he’s—“ regulus assumes he’s about to say ‘some random fucking guy’ before switching tactics, speaking directly to regulus. “do you even have the proper training?” he demands.

“does doing this four times before count as the proper training?” he returns dryly. the staffer looks surprised at this, so regulus graciously fills in the blanks as quickly as possible.

“look, it’s not you. it’s a superstition thing. i set his nose during a game once in a very desperate situation years ago and then, unfortunately for me, they won. when it happened again, james insisted i do it again and they won. again. they’ve won every game i’ve had to set it. so naturally…”

the staffer nods, eyes awash with new understanding. “you have to do it now. right. no, i get it. just um. do your thing, i guess.”

with that semblance of approval, regulus turns back around to face james.

regulus reaches up, eyes locked on the crooked nose before him. he breathes, knowing the exact motion he needs to make, his hands far too familiar with the bloody job for his liking. if it were anyone else, anyone in the entire world, he’d be miles away from this locker room, far removed from the blood and gore and messiness. but the task of caring for james falls firmly and unquestionably under his jurisdiction.

james’ eyes stay trained on him, pupils blown wide from pain or perhaps something else entirely.

regulus looks into them, notes the complete trust pooling in those dark brown irises, and nods quickly to himself. then, in one fast motion, he pulls the nose down with just enough force to emit a small “pop” as the cartilage slots back into its proper place. james’s barely even winces, eyes still trained on regulus.

“good?” regulus asks, moving james’ face side to side to inspect for any more damage.

“gub,” james replies calmly.

regulus makes to stand when james’ hands latch onto his wrists possessively. “ew forgot someding.”

regulus can’t keep the smile from his face even as he rolls his eyes. he knew exactly what he was “forgetting” to do. but it is, however, a sacred and crucial part of this tradition. he leans down and captures james’ lips in as chaste of a kiss as he can manage in a lockerroom full of hooting men while still maintaining a shred of his dignity.

james’ eyes sparkle when he pulls away.

“now go win this, potter,” regulus orders him as he backs away.

this time, james doesn’t let the pain stop him from grinning back.