Winnie

sirius who is sarcastic to everyone including james and eventually james becomes immune to sirius’s sarcasm and learns when he’s using it

Regulus:

James: Not that I do drugs.

James: Unless you do drugs. In which case I do drugs all the time.

Regulus:

He allowed his eyes to laze closed as he reclined back into James’s lap, strong arms wrapping around his chest. These moments were few and far between right now, what with the demand of both of their schedules. But somehow, they’d both found the time to sneak off here–to a tree-lined clearing on the edge of the forest where James leaned back against a giant tree trunk and Regulus lay back against him.

Things were perfect for about ten seconds–Regulus’s breathing easing, James playing lazily with Regulus’s fingers as they sat and enjoyed the fall day–until the older boy let out a snort.

His eyes popped open. “What, Potter?” he demanded, partially irritated, partially shocked they’d even managed fifteen seconds of quiet. James was a lot of things, but a still, quiet, contemplative being was not one of them.

However, the taller boy still seemed content to stay where they were. Rather, he just linked their fingers together and held both of their right hands out in front of them, so Regulus could see clearly. “So different,” he commented, his voice light and full of humor.

It was true, Regulus mused, as he observed their intertwined hands. James’s hands–large, calloused, and tanned, with thick fingers and bitten nails–completely enveloped his–small, horribly pale, but with long, thin fingers and manicured nails. 

Tilting his head, Regulus switched their grip so his left hand pressed to James’s right hand, measuring how much larger the other boy’s hand was. Something about seeing it there in front of him made warmth and a bit of desire pool at the base of his spine. It was mortifying how safe it made him feel. Gods, that was something he wasn’t ready to process. “They look good together, though,” he whispered, biting at his lip.