#myjegulus

jegulus | 264 words

“Regulus Arcturus Black,” said James grandly from the doorway, “I am officially calling upon you for boyfriend services.”

Regulus paused, then continued writing without raising his head. “Use my full name for such nonsense again and see how short the list of ‘boyfriend services’ gets.”

James groaned. “Come on, Reg. I need your help. You love me, don’t you?”

“Most days.”

“Regulus.”

“James,” he volleyed, “I’ve got to finish this before the day’s out. The publisher’s been expecting my draft long enough. I haven’t the time for sex or games or whatever it is you’ve come to conscript me for.”

The relief of blessed silence was short-lived. He could feel James lingering, and worse, sulking. Regulus didn’t need to look to know. He sighed.

“You’ve prepared a speech, haven’t you?” The lack of an answer was answer enough. “All right, you ridiculous man. Let’s hear it, then.”

“Brilliant,” James said, brightening, and Regulus cursed himself for being so easy. Clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders, James declared, “Regulus, my love, there comes a time in every relationship when you’ve got to put aside your differences and close ranks. We need to unite, once and for all, against our common enemy.”

“Mm. And who might that be?”

“Your brother.”

The notebook closed with a thump. Regulus spun to face his boyfriend.

“Oh?” he said airily, feigning disinterest. “Do tell.”

James smiled, slow and knowing. “I thought you were busy.”

The display is downright obscene. James Potter—Cannons captain, war hero, father, utter tart—has been shirtless for approximately twenty minutes. He glows in the midday sun as if he’s made of it, his skin bronzed to gold, sweat shining across broad shoulders.  

And Regulus can’t even enjoy himself, because he’s too busy glaring at the group of players’ partners off to the side.

“Well fit, isn’t he? Potter,” one of them said the moment James shucked his jersey halfway through his laps. The group broke into appreciative, juvenile twittering, and Regulus thinks he might have cracked a molar for how tight his jaw went.

James can read it all over him as he jogs in for a quick drink—he’s beaming. He doesn’t hesitate to sling an arm around Regulus’s waist and draw him close. 

“It’s hot,” James says against his throat, sounding unbearably pleased. 

Regulus manages to catch the flutter in his chest before it takes him. “Is it?” he asks airily. “I’m not the one out there showing off, so I wouldn’t know.” Still, he shivers anyway when James huffs a warm laugh into his hair. 

“No. I meant you. This whole little jealousy thing of yours. It’s hot. I like it.”

A scoff. “I’m not jealous. ”

“My mistake. In that case, s’pose I should get back to it, then—” lightning-quick, Regulus’s hand whips out and wraps tight around James’s wrist. He smiles. “Or not.”

Regulus turns just enough to glance over his shoulder, eyes fixed on James’s mouth. The heat between them rises—it would burn, even on a cooler day. That’s all it takes, sometimes. A word. A look. 

But Regulus has more than that today. He guides James’s hand to slide down his stomach, stopping at the hem of his shirt. Of his own accord, James’s fingers dip into his waistband and—

“Hot?” James says again, this time in a whimper. “Is that—? What the fuck. That’s so bloody hot.” He makes another pathetic little noise when Regulus pulls away. “Where are you going? Have you been wearing those all day? Reg. Regulus.”

“Put a shirt on, and I’ll let you find out what color they are later."

Thud.

Regulus startles awake. Dazed, he blinks against the dark like it will help him see through it. He’s still trying to find his body when there’s a ragged gasp from the floor. 

He sits upright. “James?” Then, once he’s found his wand, “Lumos.”

James cringes away from the light, back against the bedside table and arms tight around his knees. He ducks his head. 

“Nox.”

Regulus winces as he slips across James’s side of the bed. The sheets are soaked through with cooling sweat; James’s shoulder is damp, too, when Regulus touches him. 

“Jamie,” he tries, voice soft. “Darling, you’re shaking.”

“Sor—” James’s teeth clack. “Sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t—”

 “It’s all right,” Regulus says, because it is. He lights a few candles with a flick of his wand and coaxes James to stand. The light flickers; James shivers, then settles under the weight of Regulus’s hand on the back of his neck. 

Regulus keeps his tone low. “Here, let me help you out of this. Yes, those as well. Let’s have a warm shower, hm? No, you don’t have to say anything. Don’t apologize. Shower first, then maybe a nice cuppa. That always helps, doesn’t it?”

James comes back to himself when the water starts. He hiccups once and tries to hide it with a laugh.

“You—You sound like me.”

James watches, lazy in the heat.

“Good shout, this,” he sighs, somehow relaxing even further. “Nothing better on a hot day, is there?” He eyes the way Regulus trails his tongue along the edge of his cone. 

“Could think of a few things.”

James laughs. “‘Course you could.” He nods towards Regulus’s ice cream. “What's that about, then?"

“Oh,” Regulus drawls, “It's gorgeous, really. The bourbon gives the vanilla a succulent, warm finish. So sweet and creamy, Jamie.”

“Looks good,” James says, voice low. 

“Mm. It is. In fact, do you know what I’m thinking?”

James catches his lower lip between his teeth, but it doesn’t do anything at all to stifle that boyish, pleased grin of his. Regulus smiles back; slower, inviting. With one obscene drag of his tongue, he licks the treat from base to tip. 

“I think you’re thinking,” James starts, and Regulus hums encouragingly, “of sharing the rest of that with me.”

Regulus blinks. Holy shit. 

“You absolute melt,” he says, almost in awe. James’s face flickers. “Are you brain-damaged? I was flirting with you, Potter. How many bludgers have you taken to the head this season?”

“Only the one! And I played the rest of that match, mind you,” James protests, then sits up straight. His chair scrapes in his haste. “Wait, flirting?”

Regulus scoffs and viciously bites off the top of his ice cream. James cringes.

jegulus | 264 words

“So,” Evan starts. His voice is calm in a way that is not comforting. “You and Regulus.”

James nods. He isn’t scared. That would be stupid. But Barty hasn’t blinked the entire time they’ve been there, and James doesn’t quite like how he keeps twirling his wand between his fingers.

“You like him?”

James nods again. The wand stops. Quickly, he says, “Yes. Yes, very much so.”

“And what, exactly, are your intentions with him?”

“Er—?”

“Your intentions,” Barty repeats in a drawl. “You heard him. Not a hard question, Potter. A fling? Marriage? A few good fucks? Will you be turning him inside out and sending him on his way, or have you started planning a soul binding? Something in the middle?”

James turns a helpless look on Evan. He’s met with a cool stare that offers nothing.

So, at a loss, James does what he does best and tells the truth.

“I want whatever Regulus wants.”

Evan’s gaze slides to Barty. The wand starts spinning again.

“What a good answer, Jamesie,” Barty says, voice low. James offers a nervous smile—that is, until Barty leans in and continues, “Now we can really start.”

-x-

Regulus exits the Floo to find the cottage full of people who do not live there. James’s little posse is sat at the table, a fourth place set for tea. Pettigrew looks uncomfortable. Lupin does as well.

Sirius, of course, speaks up for them. “Reg. Thought we could all have a chat. You know, given this… development between you and Prongs.”

part one: sunscreen

Regulus does not like swimming. He doesn’t care for the beach.

He is, however, thoroughly enjoying the view. An endless blue sea, a cloudless blue sky, and a shameless James Potter rising from the waves with water streaming down his body like something out of a bawdy magazine.

A patch of skin on his lower back is starting to pink. Regulus smiles to himself.

He stifles it when Remus begins his miserable climb towards him. By the time Remus reaches the blanket, he’s breathing like he’s scaled a mountain—as if he were capable of such a thing—and not twenty yards of shingle. He collapses beside Regulus with a grunt.

Regulus doesn’t think twice about handing him a drink. He likes the man, even if Remus spends half his time with his tongue down Sirius’s throat.

“Cheers,” Remus pants. He takes a long swallow, then tips the bottle towards the water where Potter and Sirius are attempting to drown one another. “Watching James again, are we?”

Mind changed. Remus is a smug bastard and Regulus hates him entirely.

Regulus’s voice doesn’t quite come as steady as he’d like. “Rather difficult not to, when he plays such a good fool.”

“Right. Has nothing to do with the fact you’ve fancied him for ages, then?”

A shiver travels up his spine and leaves him rigid. He turns a slow, cool stare on the other man. Remus, unbothered, simply stares back and does not blink.

“I knew you were a beast,” Regulus says icily, “but I had no idea you were a mad one.”

Remus exhales sharply. “Christ. And I thought Sirius was bad. Hopeless, the pair of you. You haven’t got the faintest idea how to talk to another human being.”

“We’re talking right now, and I consider you a human most days.”

“You know what I meant, dickhead.” A smile begins to curl Remus’s voice. He gives a lazy shrug. “Ah, well. At least Sirius knows how to let people like him.”

Regulus’s mouth presses thin. His gaze flicks back to the water. Potter has just thrown Sirius to the waves. Sirius surfaces, spluttering, then breaks into a bright, easy laugh—the sort he found again only when he left home.

Regulus cannot remember the last time he laughed like that. His fingers dig into the shingle, gripping a handful hard enough to hurt.

“I hardly think the beach is an appropriate place for psychoanalysis, Lupin.”

Remus hums. “Maybe you should find the appropriate place for it, Black.”

Regulus opens his fist. The pebbles fall with a skitter that sets his teeth on edge. He grinds them once, lifting his chin, looking anywhere but at Remus’s scrutiny. At James’s effortless joy and Sirius meeting him in it.

“Reg!” his brother bellows. “Stop being a prat and get in!”

“Oi, leave him—he doesn’t like swimming,” Potter says, shoving Sirius under the next wave. Then he turns, beaming so brightly Regulus can feel the warmth of it from the blanket.

“Don’t worry, Reggie,” he calls. “You stay there and look pretty, yeah?”

Regulus snorts and raises his voice. “Of course. One of us has to.”

Potter gasps and clutches his heart as if he’s been hexed, toppling backwards into the sea. Regulus stifles another smile.

Beside him, Remus sighs a long-suffering thing. He slumps back on the blanket and slings an arm over his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. “Hopeless.”

part one: sunscreen

part two: beach

The tent is smaller than Regulus remembers, though they are two instead of three. He blames Potter, far too broad to share a space with and currently attempting to see his own back in a conjured mirror. He keeps turning instead of conjuring another. Regulus needs him biblically.

Potter finally gives up with a sigh and drops the hem of his shirt. “I think you might’ve missed a spot, mate. I’ve got a nasty burn.”

“Have you?” Regulus asks, feigning surprise. Then, since he’s already gone mad and might as well enjoy it, “Show me.”

“Wh—Really? I mean—yeah, ‘course, I—” Potter practically rips his shirt off. “D’you see it?”

Oh, yes. Regulus stifles his grin at the sight. One big, awful, angry-red spot in all that gold. He doesn’t even think—just lifts his arm and touches.

Potter hisses, flinching away.

Regulus rips his hand back. “Sorry! Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Laughter answers him, but it isn’t the sort Regulus likes—not when it’s aimed his way and followed by, “M’only winding you up, Baby Black. You should see your face.”

Chest tight, Regulus turns without a word and climbs into bed. He’s heard enough of that for a fucking lifetime. He gives his wand one vicious flick, and their little canvas prison plunges into darkness.

“Goodnight,” he says, clipped.

“Aw, Reg. I was only trying to make you laugh.”

“Well don’t,” Regulus snaps. “Not everything needs to be a bloody joke.”

Potter sighs; his bed does, too, as he settles in. “Right. Right, yeah. Never mind. I forget how different you and Sirius are, sometimes.”

He doesn’t know why he says it. Only that it comes nasty and exhausted and a little hurt: “Sorry to disappoint, Potter, but I’m not a replacement for my brother. Just because you can’t have him doesn’t entitle you to the next best thing.”

After a long while, and with an uncertainty Regulus hadn’t thought him capable of, Potter says, “I don’t want Sirius, Reg. I want you.”

Right. Okay. Maybe the tent is on a hill. Is that why the whole thing feels as if it’s slipping sideways? If he’s really lucky, they’ll simply slide right off the cliff and into the sea.

Regulus realizes he hasn’t answered. “Oh,” he says, which is still not an answer.

Potter makes a soft noise of panic. “What do you mean, oh? Is that a good oh or a bad one?”

“It’s just an oh!” Regulus snaps, winded. Each breath makes him dizzier than the last. All he can smell is the ocean and James fucking Potter. “I don’t know, James! Let me think.”

“Fuck’s sake, Regulus, I just told you I fancy you—” Potter sits upright with a faint rustle of his blankets. “Did you call me James?”

“Fancy me? What are we, schoolchildren?”

“What are we,” Potter echoes, closer than before. “Yeah. Something I’d like to know myself, actually.”

Regulus’s mouth dries right up. The distance between them shrinks; he can hear Potter moving in the dark, feel him settle on the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing?” he tries to demand, but it comes out in a whisper.

There’s a pause. Then, softly, Potter says, “If it’s alright with you, Reg, I’d quite like to kiss you.”

The heat of him bleeds through the blanket as he leans down; the scent of him is salt-musked and hot.

Regulus stops him with a hand to his chest. Merlin, he’s still shirtless. But want is not enough for Regulus to give in. Not yet.

“Do you mean it?” He swallows. “You like me?”

“Reggie, I…” Potter huffs a laugh. The sound is shy and almost nervous. “Like, an embarrassing amount. I don’t think I was subtle about it.”

He wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t.

“Alright,” Regulus says. “Alright. Yes. Kiss me.”

Potter makes a stunned, excited noise. “Holy shit. D’you mean that?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Get on with it, Potter.”

“James.” The ask isn’t one at all, and so very close. “Call me James again.”

Regulus’s breath catches. “James,” he amends. “James. You can kiss me now.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

jegulus & wolfstar | 447 words

“Ask him along, then,” Regulus hears as he passes by Sirius’s bedroom door. It isn’t his brother’s voice, but Remus’s—sounding rather exasperated, at that. 

“I don’t want to!” That’s Sirius, all theatre. There’s even the sound of him throwing himself onto his bed. “Every time I invite him, he either tells me off—or he does come and disappears for half the night. It’s embarrassing, Moons. I swear he does it just to wind me up.”

Ah. Of course. They’re talking about him again. Regulus doesn’t think twice about stepping closer to the door and putting his ear to it.

“You want him to spend more time with James, don’t you?” Remus asks, and Regulus’s stomach does a strange little flip. “Oh, don’t make that face. You said so yourself. You hate everyone he’s brought home.”

Sirius makes an incredulous noise. “One of them ate my leftovers, Remus! Caught the lanky git standing at the fridge mid-snaff! In his pants! Who does that?! Savages. Savages, Remus, that’s who.” 

Barty. Regulus grins to himself. They haven’t slept together, at least not for years, but he likes how little Sirius knows of his personal life. 

“And if that’s the sort of company Reg is keeping, we need to step in,” Sirius continues.   

“We?” Remus’s voice pitches so high that Regulus almost laughs. “Sorry, there’s no we in this! I want no part in trying to set your brother up with anyone, much less James. Don’t you think it’s—I don’t know, strange?”

“It doesn’t bother me. I thought it would have done, but… I know James would be good for him, wouldn’t he? And they like each other. It’s disgustingly obvious.” 

A sudden flash-image of James beaming at him from across a crowded room comes to mind, and Regulus feels his chest warm. He fights a smile despite there being no one around to see it. 

“They’re not… subtle,” comes the reluctant agreement. “But if you really want to go ahead with operation: help James Potter snog your little brother, you’ll have to actually invite Regulus.”

Sirius yelps; Regulus flinches back as a pillow misses its mark and hits the door instead. 

“Don’t call it that, you twat!”

Remus laughs. The bed creaks, and then Sirius laughs, too. Regulus instantly loses all interest in eavesdropping. 

Just as he steps away, he hears Sirius say, “Besides, it’s not as if I expect him to snog Reg at the party. Prongs is my best mate. He’d have more respect for me than that.”