“Hey mate, I have a question,” James said as soon as Sirius picked up the phone, trying to keep his voice to a whisper, but failing miserably. 

“What's up,” Sirius replied back. 

“Is it a crime to fake drowning?” James asked, eyes glued forward even as he spoke. 

It took Sirius several seconds to answer. “Prongs, what the fuck?” he asked after a while, sounding thoroughly concerned. 

“Nah, nah, it's just I'm at the lake, right?” 

“Right,” Sirius replied because he knew that much. 

“Right, and there's this lifeguard here, and he's like insanely hot.” 

Sirius was quiet for another second. Then, slowly, patiently, almost like he was trying to avoid pain, he asked, "What does he look like?" J

ames swallowed, then looked over to said, ‘Insanely hot lifeguard,’ and tried to find the words to describe him. "Well, he's short, right, but not ridiculously short." 

“Okay,” Sirius responded.

“And he's got this kind of moody look on his face. Like…he's not happy he's here, but he'll deal with it.”

“Okay,” Sirius replied again, sounding less than pleased.

“And then he's got this silky black curly hair that, mate, I swear, I just want to run my fingers through!” 

Sirius breathed heavily. “Does he look like me, by any chance?” 

James looked over again, trying not to be too obvious, even though he nearly tripped over himself to get a better glance. “Yeah, actually, he does look a little bit like you. Odd, that.

There was a long pause, and then Sirius replied, "James, that's my fucking brother. He just got a job there last week." 

James blinked, looking from his phone back to the lifeguard, then back to his phone again. “...Okay, but where did we land on the whole fake drowning thing because–?”

“Daddy?”

James smiled at his son, who was toddling towards him as he cooked dinner. “Yes, Prongslet?”

“We have a problem,” Harry declared, but his lisp made it quite funny.

James turned the stove off and crouched down to Harry's height. “And what might the problem be, my little Marauder?”

“I don't think Papa loves me.”

That made James's heart sink. “What?”

After their separation, Lily and James had both tried their hardest to ensure Harry grew up never questioning whether he was loved. They stayed in friendly terms, still had family outings with Harry, and spoiled Harry to the extent of concerns by their parents. That didn't change even after Lily moved in with Mary, and James with Regulus. If anything, Harry was ecstatic that he had double the number of parents to love him.

But now Harry was… questioning it.

“Of course Papa loves you, Harry,” James said, trying to sound as convincing as possible, because he knew Regulus adored Harry. That man had gone through a full week's worth of breakdowns in a single hour before Harry's first visit to Grimmauld Palace. “Why do you think he doesn't?”

James waited with baited breath for his son's reply.

Harry pouted. “Because he isn't telling me what he wants for Father's Day!”

James blinked. Then he laughed.

He had a habit of loudly declaring what he wanted for Father's Day. Then Lily would take Harry out for shopping and get him his gift. Harry thought that was the norm.

“Harry, Harry, Harry.” James hugged Harry tightly, then kissed his messy hair. “My little Prongslet. What do I do with you?”

“I'm serious!” Harry said indignantly. “You're laughing!”

“I'm sorry.” James cupped Harry's cheeks. “But guess what? I know exactly what we can give Papa for Father's Day.”

Harry's eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Of course, Daddy's a genius, he knows everything.” James lifted Harry into his arms, his grin wide. “Time to go shopping, Prongslet. Let's get dressed.”

Regulus knew something was up when he saw his husband's cheery grin during breakfast. Of course, that was James's default expression, but this was too smiley, even for him.

Harry wearing the same expression did not lessen his suspicions.

He slowly laid down his fork, eyeing the man. “James,” he said slowly, “what did you do?”

James exchanged a look with Harry. Those little reminders that James and Harry shared a connection he could never dare to intrude on… it made him feel undeserving of the title Papa. And he tried very hard to be worthy of it.

James grinned at Regulus. “We really were planning to wait until dinner.”

Regulus blinked. “What?”

“Nothing to worry about, love. Harry, go and get it, please.”

Immediately, Harry hopped off to his room, then hurried right back to the dining table, his green eyes bright and full of anticipation.

“For you!” He thrust a small box towards Regulus, wrapped clumsily in emerald green paper and silver ribbons.

Regulus took it, surprised. “Thank you,” he said, uncertain, and began to unwrap the gift.

It was… a mug.

With big bold words printed on it: #1 DAD!!!

Regulus's breath hitched.

“Happy Father's Day, Papa!” Harry said with glee. “I love you!”

Regulus stared at James, who was pretending to wipe a tear from his eye, looking like a proud parent. Then he looked back at his stepson.

His son.

James was laying in bed, flat on his back with his arm flung across his face. Eyes closed, gently lulled into that gap between being awake and asleep where his limbs felt heavy and his head felt light.

Quietly, voice thick with sleep, he murmured into the room. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, James.” Regulus replied softly. “I’d put you in the garden, feed you to the birds.”

“That’s mean.” James smiled softly. “I’d still love you. I’d buy a tank for you and keep you forever.”

“Yes, well. You’re an idiot.”

“Your idiot.” A smile tugged at the corner of James’ lips. “How about if I was a dog? Would you keep me then?”

“Nah.” Regulus snorted softly. “I’d give you to Sirius. He’s always wanted one.”

“That’s fair. I’d be such a good dog for him.” James shifted slightly, as if to roll over onto his side, but decided against it. “You’d make a good cat. I think that’s what you’d be if you were an animal. All regal and grumpy.”

Regulus made a non-commital sound and the room filled with silence once more, the only sounds to be heard were gentle breaths and the breeze outside brushing through the trees.

James broke the silence once more with a whisper, cracked around the edges. “Would you still love me if I was a ghost?”

“Of course I would, Jamie.” Another beat of silence passed. “You still love me, don’t you? And I’m a ghost.”

Regulus let out a low "mhm" and reached for James's mug, which was on his nightstand.

As he lifted the mug, it slipped from his hand and it crumpled into pieces as it came in contact with the floor.

James had never seen more fear in someone's eyes than in Regulus's right then. He looked as if he'd just killed a puppy, not broke a mug and spilled some coffee. Regulus's hands were trembling as he brought them to his mouth with a gasp.

"Fuck. James, I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I-it just slipped, please don't be mad-" and that was it for James. He saw a tear escape Regulus's eye.

"Reggie. It's okay. It's just some spilled coffee. No biggie, it's fine. Don't cry, please, I don't like it when you cry." James said carefully.

Regulus made eye contact with him. Barely, but still. "Wh-you're not mad?"

"Of course not, love." he said as he tackled regulus onto the bed.

Regulus giggled. Actually giggled, and that was the only thing that mattered to James. Regulus was happy now.

"No, wait, James, I have to clean it up, wait." Regulus said with the biggest smile on his face. Oh my. The boy has dimples. And he's so fucking breathtakingly ethereal and beautiful.

"No, you don't, baby, I'll do it later."

"You know you won't. "

"I know, Remus probably will."

Regulus groaned.

-

“James, seriously, I’m awful with kids, I can’t-” Regulus tried, but James just chuckled and handed him the baby.

“Just hold him, Reg,” James said calmly, holding back a grin. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Regulus held Harry far from his chest, as though he was a bomb. James laughed, kissing Regulus’s cheek and heading to the shop, leaving Regulus alone with Harry.

“Um, hi,” Regulus said to Harry. “I’m Regulus.”

Baby Harry just looked at him with curious eyes, cooing softly. Regulus slowly brought him closer, until his arms were wrapped around the baby and holding him to his chest.

“Er, do you like, uh... What do I have in common with a baby?” Regulus muttered, rolling his eyes at his boyfriend, though he couldn’t see him.

“Oh! You read to babies. What do babies read?”

Regulus looked around frantically for anything baby-appropriate. He, of course, didn’t have any children’s books in his flat. He picked up the first thing he could see, The Picture of Dorian Gray, which he was rereading.

By the time James got back with food and drinks, Regulus was reading to Harry, occasionally interrupting himself to explain his annotations from his first read, or his thoughts on a particular element of the story, as though Harry were capable of understanding him in the first place.

James came up behind the armchair, giving each a kiss on the head.

“You know, you talk to him like he’s an adult,” James observed.

Regulus just shrugged, not taking James up on his offer to take Harry away. He supposed children weren't all that bad. This one, especially, who looked so adorably like James, without the excessive talking. Well, he was alright.

Regulus had approximately three seconds of bliss before the door banged open.

One second: James Potter's hands were in his hair, careful and reverent in a way that made Regulus's chest ache. Two seconds: he was being kissed like he was something precious, pressed against the cool stone wall of the abandoned classroom. Three seconds: the most wonderful boy in the world was smiling against his mouth, and Regulus thought he might actually understand what all those ridiculous love poems were about.

Then: "POTTER!"

James jerked back so fast their teeth clacked together. Regulus tasted copper and mortification in equal measure.

Sirius stood in the doorway, one hand clutching his chest like a scandalized maiden from one of those Muggle novels Remus pretended not to read. His grey eyes—so like Regulus's own—were wide with theatrical horror.

"Sirius," James said weakly. His lips were very red. Regulus tried not to stare. "We were just—"

"Defiling my baby brother!"

"I'm sixteen," Regulus said flatly, though his face was absolutely on fire. "And you're being dramatic."

"Dramatic? DRAMATIC?" Sirius clutched the doorframe now, swaying as if faint. "My best mate. My brother from another mother. My Prongsie." He pointed an accusing finger at James, who had the grace to look sheepish. "Traitor! Benedict Arnold! Brutus!"

"Pretty sure Brutus and Caesar weren't best mates," Regulus muttered.

"Stay out of this!" Sirius rounded on him. "You—you temptress! You've corrupted him with your—your—" He gestured wildly at Regulus's face. "Your cheekbones and your stupid House Pride!"

Despite himself, Regulus felt his mouth twitch. "My cheekbones corrupted him?"

"It's a very serious matter," Sirius insisted, then paused. "Wait, did I say serious? I meant Sirius. Because I'm Sirius. And this is seriously—"

"We get it," James and Regulus said in unison.

Sirius looked between them, something calculating flickering behind the dramatics. Then his face split into a wicked grin. "Oh, Merlin. Mum's going to have an aneurysm. Her favorite son, snogging a Potter. It's beautiful. Poetic, really."

"You're not going to tell her," Regulus said quickly.

"Of course not. I'm going to tell everyone else." Sirius was already backing toward the door. "Oi, Moony! Pete! You'll never guess who I found playing tonsil hockey—"

"SIRIUS!"

But he was gone, his laughter echoing down the corridor like a curse.

James and Regulus stared at each other. James's glasses were askew. His hair was somehow even messier than usual, and Regulus knew his own wasn't much better.

"Well," James said eventually. "That went well."

Regulus snorted despite himself. "You have very low standards for 'well.'"

"Could've been worse. He could've hexed me." James reached out tentatively, tucking a strand of dark hair behind Regulus's ear. "Worth it, though."

@jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic - December 14: Speechless - Words: 309 - maybe slightly NSFW

James follows Sirius into his flat without a second thought, lost in conversation about Sirius' next project: turning a muggle bike into a flying one.

Still not used to Sirius' brother having moved in, James flinches when the bathroom door suddenly opens. Regulus peeks out, glaring daggers at them both.

"Warn me next time you bring someone over!"

Sirius rolls his eyes. "It's just James."

"I'm not decent!" Regulus starts padding across the hallway towards his room with a bath towel wrapped around his body.

"Come on! You can be as indecent as you want. It's just James!"

Regulus snorts. "I'll fuck him in your bed, then. See how you like that."

Sirius snorts in an eerily similar way. "Yeah, sure. I want to see you try."

They both turn to James with mirroring crossed arms. James knows very well that this is a joke. But, screw his vivid imagination, the thought of Regulus on top of him - in Sirius' bed or anywhere else - leaves him speechless. The small droplets of water trickling down his perfectly sculpted chest and disappearing under the towel doesn't help one bit.

"I don't think that'd be much of a challenge", Regulus muses in an amused voice.

Sirius' expression sours, clearly awaiting a response. In an attempt to agree with Sirius on the ridiculousness of the thought, James aims to laugh. What he manages is some kind of breathless giggle.

"No!" Sirius presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Don't even... Just no!"

Sirius stomps into his room, dramatically throwing his arms in the air. Regulus grins.

"That was brilliant. Thank you, Potter."

James wants to sink through the floor.