#drunk regulus

James grinned.

"So why don't you?" he pressed, leaning slightly closer, his eyes flicking down to Regulus’s lips.

"Because, you're drunk—"

"Oh I'm drunk?"

"— yes, and I don't want our first kiss to be because you're ine— in-e— inebr-i-ated," Regulus explained very logically, struggling on the last word.

"Reggie?" James prompted, and Regulus let out a hum in response.

"We're dating."

Regulus's eyebrows rose, his eyes widening.

"We are?" he asked, his voice mostly breath.

"Yes my love," James replied, all smiles. "So," he whispered in Regulus's ear, "this would be very far from our first kiss."

Regulus was blushing now, though the grip on James's arm had tightened. They were still dipped, miraculously, and James's back and neck and arms ached, but it was worth it to see Regulus flustered like this.

Dazedly, as if it were the first time, Regulus reached a hand up and threaded it through the hair at James's nape. James smiled, leaning into it, and caught the corners of Regulus's lips quirk up.

"Can I really kiss you?" he breathed, eyes filled with awe.

"Yes, baby," James whispered back, and Regulus blushed further. Slowly, James leaned closer until their lips finally touched. And though James remembered all of their many kisses, it somehow felt like the first to him, too. When they opened their mouths to deepen the kiss, Regulus let out the softest little noise that made James melt.

Then, Regulus curled his fingers in James's hair, and James hummed... and nearly toppled them over. He barely managed to scramble and haul them both back up, so the two were finally standing upright again, James looking down at Regulus.

"Sorry about that..." he murmured, still catching his breath, and taking in the sight of his boyfriend. Regulus's cheeks were flushed, his hair tousled, his lips looked downright sinful, and his eyes were shining bright as the star he was.

" 's alright," Regulus answered quietly, staring up at James with a dangerous amount of awe and adoration. James grinned, quickly pulling Regulus into a more sweet, chaste kiss.

"How about we get you back home to bed?"

"... our bed?"

"Yes, our bed."

"Wow."

Everyone always says you can’t forget how to ride a bike, and maybe it’s true, but when you do it for the first time in almost two years while drunk, it turns out to be quite hard.

The first few minutes were okay; he was a bit wobbly, but he managed to ride on his own. The problem started as they passed the old shrine. It was placed on a sharp turn, and Regulus, instead of turning left as he should, started turning right. He could see the bike hitting the curb and the pavement getting closer and closer with every passing second. Alright, he thought, I’m going to hit it. He didn’t even try to pull out his hands to cushion the fall; he just flew like a log on his face.

Regulus lay there for a few seconds, hearing his friends laughing behind him, and then started laughing himself. He stood up, dusted off his trousers, and touched his chin. There was a hole in it; Regulus could feel it.

“Hey, does it look bad?” He turned to face his friends, and that’s when he felt a thick liquid rolling down his neck.

“Reg, that looks fucking awful; we’re going to the hospital,” Evan said firmly, taking Regulus’ hand and leading him to sit a bit further from the road.

“Show me,” he said, laughing lightly, because what else has he left?

Barty snorted, taking his phone out and, a second later, blinding Regulus with its flash. When he saw the photo, he just started laughing harder.

“Oh fuck, I look so bad; we should call Pandora,” he choked out, trying to keep the wound closed (he didn’t manage it).

A few minutes later, Panda’s old peugeot stopped next to them. The girl grabbed his face and started cleaning it with wet wipes, mumbling how irresponsible Regulus is.

“Hold it,” she commended sternly. “You had one job, one, and still failed at it,” Pandora turned to address all three giggling boys. “Take his bike; I’ll text when we’re at the hospital.”

***

“Regulus, I swear to god, if you don’t shut up, I will—oh, thank fuck, take him away from me, please,” Pandora said to someone behind him. As Regulus turned around, he felt cured right then and there, because in front of him stood the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, with his messy curls, golden skin, and that stunning smile.

The man chuckled, and that’s when Regulus realised his jaw had gone slack.

“Are you Regulus?” the man asked.

“Are you God?” Reg replied before he could stop himself. Mr. Beautiful started straight out laughing at that.

“Well, I’m your doctor, so kinda? I guess?” The doctor answered, inviting Regulus to the treatment room. “What happened?”

Regulus considered all of his options: tell the truth and sound like an alcoholic who gets himself into accidents, or come up with some lie.

Because he didn’t feel like he could come up with a good one, Regulus chose the first option.

“Oh, I’m going to embarrass myself as fuck,” he giggled, while the doctor, whose name he couldn’t quite read from the name tag on his scrubs, started cleaning the wound. “Wait, can you—can you stop moving for a second?” The doctor did what he was asked to do. Regulus reached for the little piece of plastic attached to the pocket on the doctor's chest and finally got what he wanted. Letting go of the man’s clothing, Regulus continued, “So, James, did your parents teach you how to ride a bike?”

The doctor, James, snorted, “Yes, Regulus, they taught me how to ride a bike; why?”

“Well, I thought mine did too, but today I realised they did a shitty job at it.” James erupted into laughter, taking a step back from Regulus. “What? I mean it! Look, if they taught me better, I probably wouldn’t be here!”

“That, or if you drank a little less,” the taller man huffed, coming back closer to Regulus. He knew the doctor was right, but he still felt the need to roll his eyes.

After a few minutes, James told him it looked really bad and they would need to stitch him up.

“If you're afraid I'll disfigure your face for the rest of your life, I can call someone else,” Regulus heard, and he responded with a dismissive hand gesture.

“Stitch away; I don’t mind. Besides, scares are kinda badass,” another round of chuckles.

“Alright, just don’t make me laugh while I do it, or you really will look bad when I’m done.”

Regulus could hear some metal things clicking against each other and could feel the fear creeping up his neck. He started scraping the nail polish off his nails, waiting for the worst. James must’ve noticed somehow, because he asked if Regulus felt alright.

One moment Regulus was staring at the overhead lamp, and the next there was a blue cloth covering his face.

“What the fuck?” he grumbled, grabbing at it. “Take it off; I can’t see shit.”

He could hear James sighing, and then his face came back into view. Regulus couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“If you weren’t so funny, I would put them all on you,” the other man muttered, throwing away the blue thing. “Okay, since you’re under the influence, I can’t administer local anaesthesia, but you have enough piercings to know the feeling.”

“Yeah, and I certainly do not do them for the feeling,” he mumbled, putting his hands underneath his buttocks.

James grabbed a needle with medical thread already pulled through it. He lowered himself closer to Regulus’ face and looked up into his eyes.

“Ready?”

“I will never be, so just go. Please,” was all Regulus could choke out while looking into those deep hazel eyes that crinkled at the response, probably from the smile hidden under the mask.

James looked back down at Reg’s chin and placed the needle in the wound area. As it went in and out, creating the first stitch, Regulus could feel a tear rolling down his temple.

“You okay?” James asked, looking into his eyes again. This time, only a whimper came out of Regulus. “Don’t worry, just one more,” the doctor said in a soothing tone, his eyes softening.

The second time was the same yet worse—Regulus wanted to run as he felt the needle just near his face.

After that, James cleaned him up again and gave him instructions on how to treat the wound.

“See you in two weeks; I’ll take them off,” he said, handing the discharge from the hospital to Regulus.

I’m drunk, Reg thought to himself. If it goes south, I can blame it on the vodka.

“Why not in two days?” he said out loud.

James looked at him, puzzled. “Excuse me?”

Regulus cleared his throat. “Why wait two weeks when we can see each other sooner?”

“I can’t take the stitches sooner then—"

“Not to take off the stitches, doctor,” he said, smirking slightly.

James eyes went wide. For a moment that felt like hours, they sat in silence, just looking at each other, waiting.

When the silence stretched out a bit more, Regulus decided to abort the mission.

“You know what? I’m drunk; I should just—"

“Does Tuesday at 8:00 sound good?” James said at the same time. It took Regulus a few seconds to register what he just heard, but when it finally got to him, he positively beamed at James.

Regulus is certain. Today is the day he dies. 

He thought nothing could be worse than being left alone in the corner of a crowded Gryffindor’s party, without any of his friends in sight and a bloody alcohol cup that refilled itself once it was fully empty. 

He felt tipsy and clumsy and he stumbled to a sofa near the stairs of the common room. He felt worse than ever until with a hazy vision and a smile on the corner of his mouth, he made eye contact with the love of his life. 

James Potter, king of the party, dancing on top of a table and teasing everybody with that damn red crop top and those dark low-rise jeans that exposed his quite sweaty tanned skin and the definition of his abdomen. A group of people surrounded him at the table, cheering him up and singing along to a song Regulus didn’t recognise. 

And then, Regulus feels like dying. 

Because oh, a Spanish song is on and oh, James knows fluent Spanish.

And oh, Regulus has forgotten how to breathe properly because James gets off the table and starts making his way towards Regulus, moving smoothly through the crowd and mouthing the words to the new song playing. 

Once he’s near enough, James puts his hands on Regulus’ knees and lowers his whole body to face his boyfriend, who is flushed, has wide pupils and is probably shaking under the boy’s touch. 

*“Oye papi…vuelveme loca. Aruñame la espalda y muérdeme la boca” James whispers against Regulus’ lips, teasing him and running the tip of his tongue on Regulus’ lower lip. 

“Fuck” Regulus replies closing his eyes, feeling James’ warm breath and touch heat up his whole body. He loses his boyfriend's touch only seconds later, so he obliges himself to open his eyes and looks up at his golden boy, smirking at him with his lower lip between his teeth. 

James knows how hard it hits Regulus when he speaks Spanish. His accent and the way he rolls his tongue have Regulus on his knees every time. 

Always metaphorically, sometimes literally.

So, he uses that to his favour and keeps singing in Spanish under Regulus’ look. He moves his whole body to the rhythm, his hips being the main character of his dancing, making Regulus feel feral. 

James gets closer and closer and now he’s practically lap-dancing Regulus to a Shakira song. He hears roaring and a couple of his friends screaming his and James’ name but he doesn’t care about anything anymore because he has his man basically on top of him, seducing him with his gentle hips and his Spanish words, calling him “papi” and telling him to do something to his “boca”. 

When the song finishes,  James doesn’t step back. 

“Wanna get out of here?” his golden boy has the same lit-up face as always, with a fire in his dark eyes and an agitated breath that suggests the same as Regulus has been thinking for a while now. 

“Yes, please”

If this is how Regulus gets to die, he hopes this is what his heaven looks like. 

*Translation: "Hey daddy...drive me crazy. Scratch my back and bite my mouth"