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Chapter Text

Regulus didn’t like the waiting game of runway days.  It was a whole lot of waiting, one really good facial massage, and a whole lot more waiting.  He had just been released from makeup, and was shrugging on his first piece when Pandora sidled up to him, taking in his appearance critically, smoothing the fabric along his back to conceal the battery pack better.

“I don’t know if this is going to work.”

“What?” he arched an eyebrow at her, “The show in general or just me in it?”

“The show,” she moaned, looking around at all the models towering over her, all putting on her pieces, “the music is stupid.  You heard that Dior did classical music?  And YSL had no music?  Like…none.”

“I did hear, as I walked the Dior show,” he said blithely, but smoothing the crease between her eyebrows with his index finger all the same, “It’s going to be fine, since when did you care about what other designers did?”

“I don’t!” she said petulantly, pushing her hair out of her face, “I just think it’ll be dumb and people will hate it.”

“Pan,” he took her face in between his hands, so she was really looking at him, “It’s going to be great.  It’s a showstopper, it’ll get them going like nothing else will.”

She sighed, but reached up to press a palm to his cheek in gratitude.

“Alright, I won’t cancel everything.”

“Good for you,” he didn’t even look around as someone thumped him on the back, “Don’t disturb my calm, Barty.”

“You’re such a pussy,” he could hear the eye roll in Barty’s voice, “Worse than your brother.  He has no sense of humor, you know?”

“It’s because he’s turned American,” Regulus deadpanned, turning to look at Barty in the face, “You must be thrilled you get to keep all those in for this walk.”

“It’s because Pan knows how hot I look with them in,” he gestured unnecessarily towards the metal studding his face at intervals, still grinning widely at them.

“And that, of course, is the point of all of this multi-billion dollar business,” Regulus told him, “You looking hot.”

Barty leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re finally getting it.”

“Don’t you dare smudge this makeup,” he told him warningly, “I just got out of the chair.”

“Maybe your sense of humors are genetic,” Barty sniffed at him, “In that, you were both born without them.”

Regulus made an undignified face at him.

“Go get in your look and stop talking to me, I, unlike you, have three looks.”

“Oh precious little Regulus,” Barty batted his lashes at him, resting his face against the outside of his hand, “How can I ever live up to the likes of you, with your three looks?”

“You never will,” he said, already moving away from him, “Not even close.”

He walked slowly through the thronging crowds of models, all of them either setting themselves at their marks, changing into their looks, or being looked at critically by Pandora, who was barking orders to her many assistants.  He couldn’t help but feel more than a little proud of her, considering he had watched her agonize over these sketches for weeks in their shared London flat, desperate to make sure they were absolutely perfect.

He finally found Sirius, who was dressed in a studded black leather jacket, the tubing of the hidden neon lights only visible across the seams of his clothing because Regulus was standing so close.  He was standing on his mark, worrying his lip just slightly between his teeth, so the ring there bobbed up and down, catching the light.

“You alright?” Regulus asked him, tentatively touching his shoulder.  He knew Sirius was liable to snap at anyone that moved on runway days, even though he had been walking in shows several years longer than Regulus had.

“What?” he whipped around, softening immediately when he saw Regulus, but still holding that stiffness in his posture, “Oh.  Yeah, I’m fine, just nervous.”

“You walked for Dolce yesterday,” Regulus reminded him, “Closed the show, as a matter of fact.”

“I do remember that, thanks,” he snapped, eyebrows contracting together, “It’s just-  The in the dark thing is the problem.  If I fall-”

“You won’t fall,” he did his best not to sound patronizing, like he would with Barty, “Pan had them put glow tape down on either side of the runway, she insisted.”

The tension in his shoulder seemed to ease, and he scuffed one of his boots on the ground, glancing at Regulus almost awkwardly.

“Do you have anyone here today?”

“Me?  Oh no, all of my circle is already here.  You?”

“Yeah, a few people.  I told them if they were going to see anything, it should be this show, whether I was in it or not.”

“That much of a believer in her vision?”

“Game recognizes game.”

Regulus scoffed a laugh.

“That’s such an American phrase, good lord.”

Sirius was smiling now, forgetting his nerves and anxiety.

“I’m basically from there now, a real LA boy.”

“That explains why you’re so much more annoying now.”

“Alright, prick,” Sirius punched him in the shoulder, “You need to get to your mark, and quit harassing me.”

“Break a leg,” Regulus echoed the words they had said to each other any time they had ever walked in the same show together, from when they were children.  Sirius blinked, surprised, then smiled softly,

“Break a leg.”

Feeling lighter, Regulus took his place at the third mark, the bustling and noise around him nothing more than a dull roar in his ears.

He and Sirius had mended their estrangement only recently, and were more cordial than brotherly.  Regulus understood that they were likely never destined to be fast friends, but he would take this if it meant that they got to be in each other’s lives, away from the thumb of his parents.  He had reached out to him the moment that their mother had taken her last breath, wanting to reach across the void and the ocean that separated them.

It had been difficult, with many arguments, a few angry tears, and at least one phone call hang up, but they had reached an equilibrium, a steady sort of peace, and Regulus was fine with that.  He had his brother back in his life, he could text him and he would answer, and that was enough.

He stood perfectly still as an assistant came to check him before the start of the show.  She pulled on his light blue military jacket, testing his battery pack with a little device he’d never seen before and smoothing his hair back before standing back and admiring her work.

“Accessories?” she looked over at another young man with a clipboard.  He pushed his glasses up his nose and flushed scarlet as he met Regulus’ eyes,

“Blue military with black cargos…no, he has two others.”

The woman looked up at Regulus.

“What are the other two?”

“Look 36 with the silver jewelry and white clutch bag.  And then the closer.  Black oversized jacket, no shirt, black military cargos.  All black.  Gold jewelry.”

The man flushed even deeper as Regulus arched an eyebrow at him.

“I’ll-  I’ll get those ready.”

He dashed away, and the woman sighed, clipping a few pieces of bronze jewelry onto his wrists and ears, sliding a few rings on his fingers.  He stood still, allowing her to work, not saying a word.  Pandora swept over to him, still looking harried.

“Are you alright?” she asked him anxiously, waving her assistant away and fluttering her hands around him, straightening his jewelry and looking critically at his makeup, “Any stressors?”

He was too used to this behavior from her to really take her seriously.

“The multiple looks thing is my only stressor,” he kissed her forehead, “But we’ve done that how many times?”

“I think the standbys are angry about it,” she raised one shoulder, clearly unbothered, “They knew what they were signing up for.”

“That’s true,” he watched the stage manager calmly getting them all into place, raising one finger in the air.

“See you on the runway,” he smirked at her expression, “It’ll be brilliant.”

She let out a long breath, nodding along with his words.

“Right,” she stepped back from him, “Don’t fall over.”

He rolled his eyes, turning to face the front, watching the stage manager use her fingers to count down from five, the lights on the runway flickering on and the heavy beat of the music starting as Sirius started his walk for his first look.

Regulus moved up, waiting for his cue and, when it was given, stepping onto the wide runway, walking to the beat of the song that thrummed in his ears.

Most designers opted for lighter music, something that wouldn’t distract from the clothing, but Pandora was more of a visual artist than a traditional designer, so it was always easy to walk for her.  He made it about halfway through his walk when the lights flashed repeatedly and went out completely, so that he could hear the gasps and murmurs of the audience even over the music all around him.

He grinned to himself as the neon tubing at the seams of all their clothing flickered on, and the feeling of hundreds of cameras pointed at him only served to heighten his confidence.  He finished his walk on his first look just as the lights began to flash on and off repeatedly, in time to the music. 

He’d have to watch the recording later, he thought as three people descended on him at once, pulling off his clothes in the middle of the room, even as Evan and Dorcas passed him in their first looks.

“White clutch bag,” he heard someone hiss over the music change and the applause that followed.  Sirius swept past him again, already dressed in his second look.  He raised his eyebrows at him, a grin on his face.

“Rings off,” another voice said, “He’s silver accented in this.”

Jewelry was put on him roughly, nearly frantically, and before he had time to even think about it, he was walking out for the midpoint of the show, just as the song changed again.  More applause shattered the air like breaking glass, and he passed Barty as he left the runway for his first look, suppressing rolling his eyes with extreme difficulty as he gave him an overexaggerated wink.

Barty was just lucky that Pandora liked them to have real personalities on the runway, he’d be flayed mid-show if it was any other designer.

The lights went out again, right as he finished his walk at the end of the longest catwalk, and he turned back, repeating the same process as before.  This time the horde of assistants stood back to allow Pandora to work on him personally.  He was the closer to the show, and to her line, so he couldn’t have even a hair out of place.

“How’s it going?” she whispered as she unbuttoned two buttons around his throat and leaned back to examine the effect.

“Gorgeous, they’re loving it.”

“And how’s the walk?”

“Best of the season, since I’m allowed to be a human.”

She flashed him a bright smile, buttoning his tight pants for him and allowing an assistant to trade his silver jewelry for gold.

“See you on the runway.”

He lifted his chin in acknowledgement, kissed the side of her face, and walked out for the third and final time, hearing the cheers mixed in with the applause from the crowd as the lights came on for him.

He was several yards behind the nearest model, and he recognized Dorcas from the swish of her braids, even as the lights were extinguished again, and the gold tubing in his suit sparked into life, illuminating his skin in a strange way.

He was completely alone when he turned down the final, and longest, part of the runway, eyes straight ahead as always, hitting his mark perfectly as he always did, turning his head just slightly and-

The lights flashed on, illuminating the audience in this area of the runway for the first time.

Holy fuck.

The man directly in front of him was so gorgeous that it took Regulus out of his zone, made him feel off-kilter, like he could spin and fall right over, land on his ass in the middle of the runway. 

He was dressed in a too-tight burgundy button down and even tighter black trousers.  He was leaning forward too, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped below his chin. 

He was the picture of perfection, from his outfit to his eyes to the gold earring dangling from his right ear, and the glint of gold in his nose.  But the most shocking part of this truly beautiful picture was that he didn’t have a phone in his hand.

And he was staring right at Regulus.

Regulus felt like their eyes met for an age, but it was really only a fraction of a second before he pulled himself together and walked back down the catwalk, away from the perfectly perfect stranger sitting at the end of the runway, though his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest.

He met Pandora just inside the entrance to the runway, and she was beaming, taking his hand and waiting for their cue to walk back out to face the audience.

“Ready?” she squeezed his hand, her eyes sparkling in triumph.

“Anything for you, boss.”

They walked the entire path of the show, leading the collection, and Regulus kept his eyes straight ahead, head held high, more aware of the audience now than he’d ever been in his life. 

The moment that they began walking down the longest catwalk again, Regulus’ eyes sought out the man at the end of it, taking the opportunity to really look at him, now that he had the time.

He was standing now, along with all those around him, and Regulus saw him put his fingers in his mouth to produce a piercing whistle.

He was tall, a good couple of inches taller than Regulus, and broader in the chest and shoulder than him as well.  His skin was a beautiful color, rich, that was the word that came to mind when he looked at him.  His coal black hair was messy, all over the place, but it only enhanced his handsomeness.  And his eyes, which Regulus really couldn’t get a good look at from a distance, were rimmed by gold glasses that he kept pushing up his nose.

He grinned at something he saw on the runway, and Regulus thought that his smile might have warmed the entire room by a couple of degrees.

Suddenly, their eyes met again, and the stranger’s expression changed from delight at the show in front of him to nothing short of unbridled desire.  It was plain as day all over his face, and Regulus was glad that the makeup that he was wearing would hide the blush that was creeping across his cheeks.  Even so, he didn’t look away from him until Pandora stopped them at the edge of the runway to take her bow.

Immediately, he tore his eyes away from the man in front of him and applauded for Pandora as hard as he could.  She took her bow, gestured at Regulus and all the models behind him, and seized his hand again, turning right and marching him back down the runway and to the blessed freedom of the staging area.

He glanced over his shoulder, where he could tell the stranger was still watching him.

“Who is that?” he hissed at Pandora, the moment the standing ovation began, and they were walking back down the runway, still hand in hand, “Right at the end of the runway, on the right.”

Pandora glanced back down, not as subtly as Regulus would have preferred, and scoffed loudly at him.

“James Potter,” she rolled her eyes at him, “You know, the movie star?  Honestly, considering your brother lived with him when he ran away to the US, I feel like you’d know that.”

Shit.  That was…a wrench.

“I guess vaguely, I just didn’t think he-  Looked like that.”

“Like what?”

“Can you not be a lesbian for three seconds?  Do you see what he looks like?”

She gave him a noncommittal shrug.

“He’s not my type.  But he is yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Pandora didn’t deign to answer him, but pushed past him into the throng of adoring crowds waiting for her, along with the swarm of media members desperate for a quote, leaving Regulus to shrug out of the heavy jacket he’d been wearing and move towards Barty and Sirius, who seemed to be bickering as they wiped off their makeup.

“Your friend sucks,” Sirius told Regulus conversationally, swiping at the foundation on his face, “He’s annoying.”

“If you want to fuck me, just say so,” Barty retorted, scrubbing a hand down his face and smearing his eyeliner.

Sirius scoffed, turning to Regulus and ignoring Barty.

“Good closing, even I thought the flashing light thing she did looked cool.”

“Ah yes, because you’re the pinnacle of taste.”

Sirius flipped him off, pulling his t shirt over his head.

“What do you have left today?”

Regulus pulled out his phone, looking at the laundry list of appointments in his calendar.  He’d die without this thing; it was the only reason he made any casting his agent set him up with on time.

“Erm…nothing actually.  I think Pan is having a party at a warehouse or something.”

“Am I invited?”

“I suppose so.”

Sirius pouted at him, arms folded.

“You don’t want me there?  Worried that I would out-cool you?”

“Not in the slightest.  I never have to worry about that.”

“Whatever, I’m coming.  Can we bring people?”

Regulus flushed scarlet, thinking of the stunningly beautiful James Potter at the end of the runway…and what he meant to Sirius.

“No idea,” he tried to sound dismissive, like he didn’t care who Sirius brought to any party, “You’ll have to ask the hostess.”

“Can you ask her?” Sirius whined, “She likes you better than me.”

“You mean she’s more likely to say yes to me?” he arched an eyebrow at him.

“Of course that’s what I mean,” Sirius said it like Regulus was stupid.

He chewed his lip, torn between telling Sirius to fight his own battles with Pandora and the deep-rooted desire to get a closer look at James, who he knew Sirius would bring along with him to the party.  He hesitated, then said,

“You should be thanking me on bended knee,” before turning away from him and making his way to Pandora with difficulty.

She was answering questions from a reporter Regulus thought he recognized from Vogue, her hands flying all around her.  He often told her she was a menace when she talked, and everyone should take proper safety precautions when she got into telling a story. 

He hung back as she finished answering the young woman’s questions, turning to him with a tired smile.

“Do you want to ride together?"

“Of course,” he gave her a sunny smile in return, and her eyes narrowed at once.

“What do you want?”

“Me smiling at you automatically means I want something?”

“Generally, yes.”

“Are we allowed to bring people?”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, and she cocked her head to the side, taking him in.

“Maybe, it depends on if I like them or not.”

“It’s for Sirius.”

“Then my knee-jerk answer would be ‘no.’”

“Come on,” he nudged her with his shoulder, “Let him bring his friend, what’ll it hurt?”

Her expression was one of mingled confusion and amusement.

“Since when do you go to bat for him?”

He shrugged.

“I’m feeling brotherly.”

Pandora laughed, shaking her head slightly.

“Fine, since I’m feeling charitable.”

Doing his best to tamp down his delight, Regulus made his way back over to Sirius, who was tapping away on his phone, to give him the good news.

“I knew having a little brother was good for something,” he grinned, looping an arm around his neck, ignoring Regulus’ muffled protests, “I’ll even let you meet my friend.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” he snapped, pulling away from him, “I’m going with Pan, I’ll text you the address.”

__________

The warehouse that Pandora had rented out for the afterparty was nothing short of cavernous.  It had been well-decorated, with large soft lights hanging in clusters from the beams on the ceiling, and swaths of fabric giving the impression that they were all in a giant tent.

There was a large dance floor in the center of the space, complete with an already hard at work DJ, and bars scattered around everywhere, with waiters roving around with trays piled high with canapes.

“When on earth did you have time to plan all this?”

“I hired someone,” she said simply, sweeping her hair out of her eyes, “I knew I wanted to pull out the stops.  Celebrate if it went well, drown my sorrows if it didn’t.”

“Well it looks great,” he looked over at one of the bars nearly longingly, “and the drinks…?”

“Open bar,” she laughed at his expression, “Anything for my star model.”

With that, she was whisked away by one of her black-clad assistants, towards a table with some impeccably dressed people that Regulus recognized as potential investors on her line.

He made his solitary way towards one of the bars, ordered a gin and tonic, and lodged himself safely in a corner, waiting for Barty and Evan to arrive. 

Slowly, the space started to fill with excitedly chattering people, all of them with their phones out, taking photos of the space, photos of themselves, photos of their clothing.  Regulus watched them, tucked away from their line of sight, making note of people he wanted to speak to and, more often, people wanted to avoid.

Unfortunately, his hiding spot didn’t serve him for long, and a model that he only knew in passing descended upon him, already nearly incoherent with the alcohol that she had already consumed.

“Regulus!” she threw her arms around him before he could do anything to stop her, “Beautiful, you were so beautiful!”

“Er-  Thank you,” he said awkwardly, trying to detach himself from her as gently as he could without being blatantly rude, “It was all Pandora, really.  I just-”

“Oh but I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” she batted her lashes at him, and it was so overdone that he nearly started laughing, “Truly.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, alighting on Sirius, who had just arrived, “Look, I have to go, my brother-”

He gestured vaguely towards him and ducked away from her, brushing himself down and sighing in relief, completely forgetting who Sirius was bringing with him to the party.

It wasn’t until he was only a few feet from him that he caught sight of James Potter, who was standing slightly behind Sirius, taking in the venue with something close to boredom. 

“Reg, come over here,” Sirius saw him, seizing his arm and dragging him over, “Did you see that Galiano is here?”

James’ eyes were on him now, and Regulus was furious at the way he was already blushing, even though they hadn’t so much as exchanged a word yet.

“What?” he tore his eyes away from him, choosing to ignore the way that James’ mouth was curling up in a half smile, “Oh yeah, Pan knows him.”

“She just casually knows Galiano enough to invite him to an afterparty?  And he’ll go?”

He shrugged, not nearly as interested in this subject as the man behind Sirius.  Seeming to sense this, James moved to stand next to Sirius, holding out his hand for Regulus to shake.

“Can’t believe we haven’t met yet,” his eyes dragged down his body, making him feel exposed, “I’m James.”

“Regulus,” he said stiffly, trying with all his might not to notice how large and warm James’ hand was when it wrapped around his own.

“Nice to meet you,” he flashed a beautiful smile at him, “I’ve heard a lot, but-”

He glanced over at Sirius, who was focused on capturing a photo on his phone.

“No one told me you were this good-looking.”

Regulus felt his face heating at his words.  He didn’t like the way that James was making him feel just a little off balance, and he liked it event less that he seemed to know that. 

Well, he wasn’t going to give into him so easily.

“Does that line work for you often?”

James lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“I get around.”

Regulus bit his lip to stop the retort he longed to throw at him, but Sirius saved him from having to come up with an answer by grabbing James by the shoulder and saying,

“Oh shit, I see Andromeda,” he pointed through the crowd, “Come on, I want to introduce you.”

James allowed himself to be dragged away, but he kept his eyes locked with Regulus’ as long as distance would allow.  The moment that he disappeared from view, Regulus’ shoulders slumped, and he ran both his hands through his hair.

How could have come off as so arrogant?  So full of himself?  James was the best-looking guy he’d come across in ages, and he started off by pretty much insulting him.  What was he playing at?  Did he want to get laid or not?

“Get it together,” he muttered to himself, straightening up when he saw Barty and Evan making a beeline for him.

“Where’ve you been?” he demanded of them, “I’ve been here all alone.”

“A gentleman never tells,” Barty winked at him, smirking as Regulus groaned and made to pull away from them, “Where’s Pan?”

“Entertaining the rich,” he gestured vaguely to the table where she was sitting, “Hoping to get rich herself.”

“That was a fun runway,” Evan didn’t seem to be paying attention to either of them, but snagged a canape from a passing waiter and looked around at the milling crowd, “What do you have left, Reg?”

Regulus considered, swilling his drink around his glass.

“Loewe.  Then I’m doing a shoot with Germanier before I fly back to London.  You?”

“I’m in Loewe,” Evan counted off on his fingers, “Then I’m walking in Rochas and The Row.  I think I’m flying to Milan for a casting after.”

“The Row is so corporate,” Barty gave an exaggerated yawn, “I’ve only got Ann Demeulemeester left, and then I’m going straight home and sleeping for a week.”

“Fair enough,” Regulus inspected a pair of women that were dressed in what looked like nothing by feathers, “I think Pan and I were going to try and go to The Box sometime this week if you wanted to come.”

“You better not go without me,” Evan piped up, looking put out at the very idea of being left out, “I’m working hard to put food on the table and I don’t want to be left behind because of that.”

“I wouldn’t go without you, darling,” Barty cooed, ignoring Regulus’ gagging noises, “Don’t worry.”

“Come on,” Regulus moved away from them, not looking to see if they were following him or not, “I need another drink.”

Nearly an hour later, Regulus was back in a corner, swaying slightly, nursing his third gin and tonic.  Barty and Evan had long since disappeared to the dance floor, and Pandora had moved from one table of rich people to another, leaving Regulus alone again.

He was doing his best not to look for, or even think about James.  He hadn’t seen him or Sirius since they had disappeared to talk to Andromeda, and he couldn’t help the little flare of anger at the idea that James might have left without seeking him out again.

Which was ridiculous, of course, James was nothing more than a perfect stranger to him.

He drained the last of his gin and tonic, glowering at the half-melted ice at the bottom of his glass, when someone spoke quietly in his ear,

“You need another?”

Regulus jumped, looking around to see James standing over him, a wide smile back on his face, and his hands in his pockets as he took in Regulus like he was starving for it.  Several of the buttons on his shirt had come undone, so Regulus had unrestrained access to the defined line between his pectoral muscles.

“A gin and tonic.  Thank you.”

“Sure,” he winked at him, “Be right back.”

Regulus let out a shaky breath as he moved away, towards the nearest bar.  This was so stupid, he was so much better than falling to pieces after being near someone for three seconds.

Before he could really pull himself together, James was back, holding out a fresh gin and tonic for him, swilling a bourbon in his free hand.

“Thank you,” Regulus took the glass from him, careful not to touch his fingers, “Where’s Sirius?”

“He got into a conversation with someone that looked much more important than me,” he smiled easily, “I slipped away and he didn’t notice.”

“I thought you two were attached at the hip.”

“Only during the week.”

That got a surprised laugh out of Regulus, and James grinned, obviously pleased with himself.

“So,” James seemed keen to carry the conversation himself, “Do you live in Paris full time?”

Regulus shook his head, definitely not noticing that James was a good four inches taller than he was, and he had to truly look up to meet his eyes.

They were hazel, he noticed, even in the low light of the warehouse, and he dimly wondered if there were any other colors hidden in them.

“No,” he decided to answer honestly, “I live in London.”

“Great city,” he said robustly, “Weather sucks though.”

“Only if you have to live in the sun full time,” Regulus responded defensively, “I imagine one drop of rain would melt you.”

“Oh yeah, I’m the Wicked Witch of the West,” he was grinning again, which he needed to stop doing immediately, “You’ve been to LA?”

“Only once, and for a layover,” he tried to sound dismissive, “Most of my work is in New York.”

“You might like LA, if you gave it a chance.”

There were words in the offing, something that might resemble an invitation.  Regulus ignored them.

“I like New York.  And anyway, it’s for work, I wouldn’t be in the States at all if I didn’t have to be.”

“We’re not all bad,” he leaned his back against the wall, taking a sip of his bourbon, “You never know.”

Regulus had no answer to that, but looked out across the party, noticing that Pandora seemed to be getting to her feet, smiling and shaking hands with the people at her table.

A perfect excuse.

“Well this has been fun,” Regulus downed his drink in one gulp, setting it on the small table nearest them, “But I have to go.”

“So soon,” his rudeness didn’t seem to bother James at all, “What about me?”

His heart stuttered in his chest at the change in James’ tone.

“What about you?” there wasn’t as much of a bite to his response as he had intended, so he sounded more pathetic than anything.

“Well, I feel like I need repayment,” he leaned forward slightly, “For getting your drink and all.”

“Oh right, how can I ever thank you?” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“A date would be a good start,” James said, his smile never wavering.

Everything ground to a halt for Regulus the moment those words left James’ mouth.  He stared at him, trying to ascertain whether he was joking.

He wanted to say yes, but he had a reputation to maintain, and that reputation didn’t involve running off with every halfway decent looking actor that came his way.

He decided to put the fact that James was maybe the best looking person he had ever personally met to the side for now.

“I don’t date actors,” he told him, making to turn away, run away, so he couldn’t get himself into trouble.

“How do you know I’m an actor?  Am I just that famous?”

Regulus rolled his eyes, turning back to look at him, which was a bad idea, considering how he seemed to react whenever their eyes met.

“Don’t you think I know who my brother lived with when he ran away to LA?”

James’ head cocked slightly to the side, and his eyes dragged down Regulus’ body, like he wanted to swallow him whole.  It made Regulus nervous, and he was not used to feeling nervous.

“Even just coffee?” he hedged, and Regulus swallowed harder than he intended, hoping against hope that James hadn’t seen it.

“I don’t date actors,” he repeated, crossing his arms.

“Fine,” James grinned at him, wide and white smile contrasted against his skin.  It made Regulus’ mouth water.  “I won’t push.”

“I have a feeling you push in every aspect of your life.”

James leaned closer to him, and Regulus could feel the heat coming off his body, the smell of the cologne that clung to his skin.  He smelled like summer and oranges and the slight tang of the sea.

“Sometimes I like to pull too.”

Unbidden, a sudden image of Regulus on all fours, pulled up by the hair, James fucking him from behind…

He blinked, and scowled at him, arms still folded even as he shifted uncomfortably.

“Goodbye, James.”

“Bye,” he was grinning again, like this was all part of the plan, “I’ll see you soon.”

Chapter Text

That night, wrapped up in his blankets in his Paris hotel room, still more than a little drunk, Regulus googled “James Potter actor.”

Immediately, the screen was filled with pictures of James for this photoshoot or that, photographed on the red carpet for various premieres.  His stylist was good, Regulus had to admit.  He always looked good no matter what high-fashion thing they put him in.  He had evidently gone through a bit of a style change recently, as his hair was shorter tonight than it was in roughly eighty percent of the photos Regulus could see.

Thirty, google told him, American actor and activist.

Scrolling, he read his biography on several film websites, and read the biographies of his very famous parents.

“Nepo baby,” he muttered to himself, swiping a thumb over his screen as he looked at a photo of the three of them on a red carpet the year before.

James Potter is an American actor and activist.  He received an Emmy for Best Actor in a Drama Series for his work as Saroo Andrews in HBO’s “Unholy Rites.”  Son of acclaimed director Fleamont Potter, and dual Oscar winning actress Euphemia Potter, he has made a name for himself in both television and film, most recently for his supporting role in Emmeline Vance’s Child of War.

Deliberately skipping over the “relationships” tab on google, Regulus read through his entire filmography, just confirming that he had never seen anything he’d been in.  Not that that meant much, Evan was always complaining that Regulus was basically from the eighteenth century when it came to movies and tv shows.  He gathered, however, that he was a wildly popular character in the HBO show he had won his Emmy for, which had its series finale the year before.

He continued on, reading several articles about him, puff pieces about his or his parents’ lives in which he was prominently featured, even a piece on Sirius where James had been interviewed.  He didn’t glean much from these, it was so hard to tell what was truth and what was fiction when reading things like that.

And finally, when he just couldn’t deny himself any longer, he finally looked at his Instagram.

His grid wasn’t nearly as curated as Regulus’ was, who agonized about coloring and lighting before he ever posted anything.  His entire grid was built around the black and grey aesthetic he had made for himself, whereas James seemed to just post photos that he liked, either of himself or things around him.

Regulus scrolled through the posts carefully, taking care not to accidentally like something and give himself away.  He truly could not think of something more humiliating than accidentally liking an ages old photo of James’, even though he was sure James wasn’t looking at his like count, not with over fourteen million followers.

One particular post caught his eye.  It was relatively recent, sandwiched between a post of a red carpet and a film shoot.  James was shirtless in it, visible only from the neck down, with low slung jeans that showed a strip of the boxers he was wearing. 

“Jesus,” Regulus whispered to himself, pulling his phone closer, so that his nose was barely an inch from the screen.  He took in every detail of the photo, from the pint in his hand to the way his skin seemed to literally shine in the sun.  He found himself very much wanting to lick the bead of sweat that the camera had captured on his neck, and had to give his head a little shake to clear it.

Against his better judgement, he tapped on the comments, and scrolled through the first few.  Unsurprisingly, they were littered with people throwing themselves at James.  What was surprising, was the stab of searing hot jealousy that rent Regulus as he read them.

“You don’t even know him,” he hissed to himself, pinching his arm to bring himself back down to earth.

His own frustration with himself did not stop him from continuing to look at the photos, however, but he kept coming back to that one particular post, especially after he ascertained that James had not posted any photos with anyone that he may have been dating.  This was embarrassing, he knew that, but he couldn’t help the knot of anxiety in his chest easing slightly as he made this revelation.

While Regulus was shamelessly zooming in on the shirtless photo, twisting his head this way and that, trying to get a good look at every angle, his phone buzzed in his hand.

jamespotter followed you

Regulus promptly dropped his phone on his face, and turned his face away, cursing to himself.  Surely, he had just had a waking dream, one of those things Pandora sometimes told him about.  There was no way…

Heart in his throat, he tapped onto his activity feed, staring at the profile photo he had just been looking at.

Sure enough, James Potter had followed him, maybe somehow knowing that Regulus had been lying in bed, sifting through his posts and zooming in on a shirtless photo of him.

He felt his face heat at the possibility of this, even though the logical part of his brain knew that there was no way James would have known he was stalking him on social media at this very moment.  All the same, the notification had soured something in his stomach, and he set his phone on its charger, rolling over onto his side, and steadfastly ignoring the little notification on his Instagram.

__________

He let James stew without a follow back for two whole days.  In those two days, he finished his two final walks for Paris fashion week, killed his photoshoot, and made it to the airport on time (a miracle by all accounts).

He was eager to get home to London, even though he really did love Paris, especially at this time of year.  He wanted to settle in his flat, order enough takeaway to feed a small army, and rot horizontally for at least a week.  He thought he had earned that much, since he had been featured three times in Vogue Runway in the last week.

He had settled into his business class seat as the plane boarded around him, music loud in his ears, and scrolling mindlessly through Instagram again, only thinking about the fact that James had followed him every thirty seconds or so, which he thought he should be commended for.

“Don’t be a coward,” he muttered to himself, sinking lower into the soft leather of his seat, and stabbing at the “follow back” button.

Instantly, he received a message notification.

jamespotter: Finally, I was wondering when you were going to stop ignoring me

Regulus blinked at the message.  How had he responded so fast?

rablack: Aren’t you afraid of coming off as overeager?  Have you just been waiting by your phone for me to follow you back?

He watched James type as the engines of the plane revved up and the flight attendants moved around the cabin, shutting the overhead bins.

jamespotter: No and …no…

Regulus smiled down at his phone, glancing up briefly at the safety instructions they were giving out.  He was a firm believer that if a plane that he was on was going down, he’d rather die than make it through the fiery wreckage.

rablack: Very convincing.

jamespotter: I do my best.  What’re you up to?

Regulus looked around, as though someone might be able to shake him out of the hallucination he must be experiencing.  James was so casual, like they had been friends for years…it was unnerving.

rablack: I’m on a plane, about to fly back to London.

jamespotter: What a crazy random happenstance, I’ll be in London this week

“What the fuck,” Regulus whispered under his breath, very pleased that he didn’t have a seatmate directly next to him to give a dirty look for his words.

rablack: What are you in London for?

jamespotter: Doing a screen test, you think you might want to meet up?

rablack: You don’t even know me.  Don’t you have other friends in London you can meet up with?

jamespotter: I guess, but I’d rather see you

rablack: Once again, you don’t even know me.

jamespotter: Can you at least give me restaurant recommendations?  I need something from someone who knows the city and not just the places that require a kidney for a reservation

Regulus sat back in his seat, thinking carefully, and dutifully ignoring the warnings for all passengers to put their phones in airplane mode until they reached cruising altitude.  On the one hand, this whole situation was completely out of hand.  On the other…he might as well give him a rec he hadn’t heard before.

rablack: Dishoom is one of my favorites.  The one in Covent Garden is lovely.

jamespotter: Great, does it need a reservation?

rablack: I’ve never had an issue, but it wouldn’t hurt.

jamespotter:  Cool, so when are you free?

rablack: Free for what?

jamespotter: Dinner at Dishoom

rablack: You don’t give up, do you?

jamespotter: Nope

Regulus didn’t have a clever enough response to that, so he frantically turned his phone on airplane mode and leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes tightly, and trying to shut the conversation with James out of his head.

He was so…eager.

Regulus had had his fair share of overeager suitors, whether in his dms or in person, but none them had ever made his blood rush the way that James did.

He shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, so little stars popped in front of his eyelids.

What was wrong with him?  going to pieces over a few Instagram messages from an actor he didn’t even know.  He set aside the fact that he did, in fact, want to get to know him, and focused on the reality of the situation, laying each thing out in his head like a road map,

One, he didn’t know James.

Two, even if he did get to know James, chances were good that he wouldn’t even really like him.  He had met precious few actors that he really liked, and none of them were as famous as James was.  He had grown up in the industry, and was bound to be overly arrogant and likely cruel.

Three, if he did, by some miracle, actually like James and not just find him unreasonably attractive, there was no way they could ever really be together.  Regulus’ life was in London, while James’ was firmly ensconced in Los Angeles.

Four, and probably most importantly, Sirius would consider it base treachery for James to even think about being involved with Regulus, and while Regulus had spent hardly any time with James, he knew him enough to know that he would never want to disappoint Sirius.

So, he thought to himself, that was that.  All good reasons to not even try to get involved with James.

And yet…

He thought about those photos on his Instagram grid, the smooth planes of James’ chest, his bright smile, the way his heart stuttered in his chest when he thought about him.

It was a bad idea, but not one that he thought he’d be realistically strong enough to resist the pull of it.

He left airplane mode on to avoid the temptation of messaging James back.  The flight from Paris to London was short, but not so short that he could stop the overwhelming anxiety that overtook him as they were in the air.

This was such a stupid idea.  A stupid, stupid idea.  Even stupider than that time he walked for Versace when he and Barty had done ecstasy in the bathroom five minutes before.

Okay, maybe not that stupid.

He toyed with his phone the entire rest of the flight, through taxiing and the long walk from the airport to the Uber he had called.

He chewed on his lip as he walked up towards his flat, unlocking the door and throwing his bags down in the entrance way.

Then, he set to pacing.  Up and down, up and down, his phone sitting on the kitchen counter, drawing his eye every second.

He was so much better than this, he thought as he wore a groove into the light wood floors, so much better than pining over an actor who would dump him as soon as they got started together.

The sex probably wouldn’t even be that good.

He wouldn’t even know how to make him come properly.

Fuck it.

rablack: So, when’s dinner?

James’ reply was instantaneous.

jamespotter: I get into town next Tuesday, would that work?

Regulus chewed on his lip again, so hard that he knew he was risking drawing blood.

rablack: Fine.  I’ll see you then.

jamespotter: Am I picking you up?

rablack: No.  I’ll meet you there.

jamespotter: Can’t wait!

“Can’t wait?” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair, “Too eager, it’s a turnoff.”

And normally it would be, but unfortunately, every time Regulus closed his eyes, he saw the way James looked at him when he was standing on the runway.

It made him feel…

Powerful.  Sexy. 

Like he was on top of the world.

And even though every conversation he had had with James so far made him want to crawl into a hole and never return, he was just stupid enough to go to this dinner and hope and pray to get lucky enough to be James’ experiment and pick up the pieces after he left him behind.

___________

Regulus approached the dinner in a state of high anxiety.  He vacillated wildly between outright cancelling on James and meticulously planning his outfit.

He could wear the vintage Givenchy suit that Barty had given him last year…the Louis set that he knew made him look sexier than was wise.

Did he want to look sexy?  Okay, that was a stupid question, of course he wanted to look sexy, but looking sexy would mean that he wanted sex, and was advertising that he wanted sex from James.  And he couldn’t advertise that to a man like James.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Barty laughed at him openly as he tore through his closet three days before his dinner with James, “Over an actor?”

“I thought you didn’t date actors,” Evan supplied unhelpfully, lounging on the couch, “You’ve told me that more than a few times.”

“I don’t date actors,” he said, more to himself than to either of them, “I’m not dating him.”

“Just going out to dinner with him,” he didn’t have to look at Barty to know what his face looked like, “And tearing up your closet in the process?”

“I’m being nice,” he looked at a grey suit that he knew washed him out, he really needed to get rid of that one, “Welcoming someone to our country.”

“Wow, who knew you were so dedicated to a proper English welcome,” Evan snickered.

“I thought a proper English welcome involved a blowjob,” Barty said, “Or have you been lying to me all these years?”

“Can you two shut up?” Regulus snapped, poking his head out of the bedroom to glare at them, “I’m working.”

“Working,” Evan scoffed, “Working on a way to get laid.”

Regulus gave him a filthy look at that Evan ignored, still watching him throw things out of the closet with a sort of detached enjoyment.

“He’s not that hot,” Barty said shrewdly, and Regulus whipped around to find him looking at his phone.  He darted forward at once, trying to rip it out of Barty’s hands.

“How did you know my passcode?” he demanded as Barty danced out of reach.

“Your passcode is your birthday.  Very unoriginal if you ask me,” he tossed the phone over his head to Evan who caught it, but made no move to get off the couch.

“Evan,” Regulus marched right up to him, holding out his hand, “Give me my phone.”

Evan considered him, looking insolently up at him.

“For what?”

“For me to not skin you alive,” his voice was rising, the desperation bleeding through, which he knew would never get him what he wanted when it came to Barty and Evan.

Sure enough, Evan smirked, and tossed the phone back to Barty.

Regulus ended up chasing him around his flat for ten full minutes, tackling him to the ground and wrenching the phone from his grip, heaving for breath as the others laughed at him.

“I’ve decided something,” he got to his feet, turning back to the closet without bothering to help Barty up.

“Care to share?”

“I’m wearing the Givenchy from last year.”

“See?” Evan ignored Barty’s grumbling of being left on the floor, “That was good for something after all.  Other than raising your blood pressure of course.”

The day of his dinner with James, Regulus felt sick with anxiety for most of it.  He kept glancing at his watch, at the clock on his bedside table, willing the time to pass more quickly, or for James to cancel, whichever came first.

He got ready methodically, taking extra care with his hair, his cologne, his clothing, making sure there wasn’t a stitch or hair out of place.

“He’s just an actor,” he whispered to himself, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands, “He’ll fuck you and then go back to LA and you’ll never see him again.”

It wouldn’t be the first time, but at least now he was wise enough to know that, and he wouldn’t do something stupid like fall in love with him.

He decided to aim for arrogant nonchalance, wanting to arrive at least ten minutes late for their reservation.  James would need to be humbled, he decided, he couldn’t go around thinking that Regulus was chasing him.  James would have to be the one doing the chasing.

Unfortunately, Regulus was always chronically on time, and still ended up at Dishoom five minutes before their reservation time.  Even more unfortunately, James was waiting for him.

He looked stunning in a simple suit black jacket and crisp white button up shirt.  He had done without a tie, instead leaving three buttons undone, so that Regulus could see the v of his collarbone.  He was nothing short of mouthwatering.

“Hi,” James was grinning from ear to ear, brightening the world around him like he had brought the California sun to London, “You look fantastic.”

“I know I do,” he arched an eyebrow at him, “You’re lucky I’m here at all.”

“You’re right, I definitely am,” he didn’t seem to take his rudeness as an insult, “I have a reservation for us.”

Regulus made a flippant sort of sweeping gesture, and yet the bright smile on James’ face didn’t twitch for an instant, and he led the way inside.

Regulus had always loved the warm, inviting atmosphere of Dishoom, with its tile floors and the greenery hanging from the walls.  It was warm and smelled divine, and he felt himself inhaling deeply, his nerves lessening just slightly.

He watched the hostess to an infinitesimal double take when she looked at James, and he suppressed rolling his eyes with extreme difficulty.  James, to his credit, didn’t react to her reaction in the slightest, and they followed her back to a secluded table in the very back of the restaurant, nearly hidden in shadow.

“Did you request this on purpose?” Regulus asked, bemused in spite of himself.

“Course I did,” James settled into his seat, looking pleased with himself, “Didn’t want any distractions or anything.”

“For what?” he sat down in his seat, pulling the menu towards him and attempting to look bored, even as he looked through his lashes at James, who was still grinning, his elbows on the table, leaning forward to be as close to Regulus as possible.

“For me to get to know the ever mysterious Regulus Black,” he said placidly, “I want to know everything.”

“Everything?” he raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t that a little forward?”

“Maybe,” he lifted one shoulder, “But I’ve never minded being a little forward to get what I want.”

“You’re assuming I want to tell you anything about myself.”

“Yeah,” he smiled again, “But if you don’t want to, you’re about to find out that I love to talk, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Regulus fought the smile that was itching to spread across his face.

“Well then?  Start talking.”

It was easy to talk to James.  So easy, in fact, that Regulus ended up sharing much more about himself than he ever normally would on a first date.

There was none of the arrogance in James that he put out into the world when they had met.  In fact, he was nearly the polar opposite of every other actor that Regulus had ever met.  He didn’t expect anyone to know who he was, and spoke about himself not with pride, but with near indifference.

They talked about their careers, their friends, James went on and on about his family while Regulus carefully skirted the subject.  James even mentioned that he had a son, before launching into a long and detailed rant about how important lighting was in film, and that it was really only noticed if it was ineffective.

Regulus, as much as he hated it, could listen to him talk all day, about anything at all.

“So,” Regulus leaned back so the waiter could refill his wine glass, unable to stave off his curiosity any longer, “Tell me about your son, then.”

“Yeah,” James’ eyes got rather misty, “He’s five.  Be six in July.  My pride and joy, literally the best thing I’ve ever done.”

He pulled out his phone, scrolling, the light of it reflected on his glasses.

Regulus took the opportunity to drink him in, at the sharpness of his cheekbones, at the crease between his eyebrows as he searched, at the dark fringe that fell haphazardly into his eyes.  He bit his lip subconsciously, imagining those full lips on his, those fingers dragging down his back…

“Here,” he said triumphantly, turning his phone around.

“Oh my god,” Regulus said in spite of himself, “He’s identical to you.”

“Yeah,” James’ chest puffed out proudly, “Well, he has his mom’s eyes.  Thank god for it too, they stop me in my tracks every time he looks at me, but yeah, he looks a lot like me.”

Without thinking, he reached forward and took the phone out of James’ hands.  The child in the photo was smiling toothily up at the camera, clearly mid-wave.  He could see a pair of hands in the frame, and resisted asking whether that was Harry’s mother.

“He’s very cute,” he tried to sound impassive as he handed the phone back, “And I don’t often say that about children.  Well, besides my friend’s kid.”

“He has that effect on people,” James’ smile was blinding, “Sirius is obsessed with him, but we try to keep his life as private as we can, no faces on social media and all that, so he doesn’t talk about him outside of our group that much.  Who’s your friend’s kid?”

“She’s about your son’s age,” he said, feeling himself smiling at the idea of her, “About a year younger.  The show we-  The show we met at, Pandora’s Box?  Yeah that’s my friend Pandora’s fashion brand.  Her daughter, Luna.  Literally my pride and joy.”

“She’s…” James trailed away, but Regulus could tell by the furrow in his brow what he was thinking, and he snorted with laughter.

“Not mine,” he ducked his head, “She and Luna’s father coparent too, but both of them realized pretty quickly that er-  Well, they don’t exactly swing each other’s way.”

James laughed quietly at that.

“Anyway, Pandora has her pretty often, so she’s around me and my friends all the time.  Literally the best.”

“Sounds like you and Sirius are mutually obsessed.”

Regulus paused, wondering if he should ask the question that was simmering in his throat.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Fire away.”

“How much do you know about-  About me?” he asked tentatively, “I mean-  Sirius and I-  It’s complicated, but we’re trying to make it work.”

“Ah well, he’s always been-  Well, he’s kept the family shit pretty close to his chest.  I don’t know much other than stories he would tell.  But-  I do think you should know that he felt like shit that he had to leave you.”

Regulus looked away, trying to swallow down the tightening in his throat.

“That-  Thank you.  For telling me that.”

They lapsed into silence.  Regulus could feel it straining, like they both wanted to break it, but neither were sure quite how.

“But other than that,” James said at last, but his tone was lighter now, “He didn’t say much.  Definitely didn’t tell me how hot you are.”

Regulus felt his cheeks heat traitorously.

“That line work often for you?”

He shrugged, leaning forward again.

“I don’t know, it’s my first time trying it.  Is it working on you?”

“Hardly,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’m not into desperate guys.”

“Desperate?” he put a hand over his heart, “Is that how I’m coming across?”

“Sorry to tell you,” he couldn’t help but smirk at him, “Pulling out a picture of your cute kid just to get me to like you was the giveaway.”

“Fuck,” he handed his card to their waiter, returning with the check, “Guess I’ll have to keep trying.”

“Again,” Regulus gestured at him like he had proven his point, “Desperate.  Just like all those Instagram messages.”

“You weren’t responding to me!”

He shrugged.

“Desperate.”

“Sue me that I wanted to see you, I call it dedicated, not desperate.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Whatever,” he folded his arms petulantly, but the corner of his mouth was lifted as he looked away.

Regulus didn’t want the night to end, even as they ducked out of the restaurant and into the night, James’ hand ghosting along his lower back.

“Well,” James shivered slightly in the chill air, and he resisted the urge to make fun of him for his thin California blood, “This was fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yeah,” he grinned again, “You know?  A good time.”

“Glad to have been of service,” he said archly, folding his arms against the wind, “British hospitality, all that.”

“Yeah,” James seemed to be steeling himself to do something reckless, “Will I see you around?”

“I’m not in LA often.  Or ever, really,” he said, less dismissively than he would like, “So, if you’re in London, maybe.”

“Guess I’ll have to be in London,” he said easily, glancing around, as though checking that they were really alone, “So I can see you.”

Regulus swallowed audibly as James moved towards him,

“I guess you will,” he managed, just as James’ lips brushed across his cheek, trailing down his jaw.

He pulled back, smiling again, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.  It made Regulus’ mouth water.

Suddenly, a sleek black car pulled up to the front of the restaurant, and a suited driver stepped out, walking around the car and opening the back passenger seat, clearly waiting for James to get in.

“I’d ask you if you want a ride,” oh why did he have to say it like that, “But I know you’d say no.”

He was extremely tempted to say yes, and fuck James in the back of the car, heavy moans in his ear as he rocked back and forth on his lap…

He shook his head slightly, breaking himself out of the fantasy.

“I’ll pass,” he said idly, “Not sure I want a stalker knowing where I live.”

“Cyberstalker,” James corrected, “Well-  You’ll-  Message me when you get home?”

It was such a sweet, simple thing to say, that Regulus was temporarily floored.

“I-  Of course.  Yes.”

“Okay well, I’ll be stalking you.”

Regulus laughed as James climbed into the car, and it sped down the street and out of sight.

Chapter Text

The unfortunate thing about Regulus was that there was no such thing as casual in his mind. 

He had fought against this for years, trying to get into hookups with strangers in bars or on apps, but he had never really been able to do it.  He just wasn’t wired that way.  The moment he felt even a semblance of a crush, it was over.

Evan and Barty had made fun of him for years for it, and this time was no exception.

Especially since he and James hadn’t really had any meaningful conversation since their dinner two weeks before.

He spent a lot of his time obsessively checking James’ Instagram.  It was embarrassing, so embarrassing in fact that he refused to acknowledge it. 

The worst part was that the algorithm had picked up on his own stalking, and had started feeding him headlines that made everything a thousand times worse.

Who Is Artist Lily Evans, On-Again, Off-Again Girlfriend of James Potter?

James Potter Spotted with Old Flame Director Mary MacDonald.

James Potter Goes Viral for Some Choice Words at Photographers Outside Son’s Doctor’s Office.

Regulus read them all, his heart aching as he looked at the photos.

Lily Evans was the kind of beautiful that would make even him, who Barty routinely called the gayest person alive, turn his head.  With her long, dark red hair, and her gorgeous eyes and the kind of smile that was enticing and kind in equal measure, of course she was the kind of girl that James was with more often than he was not.

It was probably just inevitable that they would end up together.  Two beautiful people with a beautiful son.  Pandora always said everything about a relationship changes when a kid comes into the mix.

Even though she and Xenophilius weren’t together anymore, she said she thought she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone other than Luna.

Maybe that was how James felt too, which is why they were always on again, off again.  Sometimes seen with other people, sometimes hanging off one another or kissing at a charity dinner or event, as though every camera in the place wasn’t pointed directly at them.

It seemed, however, that they were in an “off again” phase.  James hadn’t mentioned her at their dinner, though he had waxed poetic about his son for at least half an hour, so that Regulus felt like he almost knew him.

Still, this didn’t stop him from checking any and all photos and stories that James posted, looking at each person or brand that he tagged, zooming in on the background to see if he could catch a glimpse of a delicate hand or a feminine jawline.

He saved this behavior for the dead of night, when he knew no one would bother him, and went to sleep with shame souring his stomach nearly every night.

“You need to forget about it,” Pandora told him when he finally worked up the courage to tell her about it, sitting in their favorite park while Luna played, “It was one date.  I know that’s hard for you, but-”

She broke off as Luna came sprinting towards them, holding something clutched tightly in her hand.

“Look!” she opened her palm to show them a large dragonfly sitting there, its slightly crushed wings beating weakly, “It bit me!”

“Did it?” Pandora knelt down to look at her finger, “Hurt much?”

“No,” she said brightly, “I wanna put it back.”

“Go on then,” she pressed a kiss into her hair, watching her dart away, “Anyway, don’t take it personally, he’s an actor, and what did we always say about actors?”

“Never fall in love with an actor,” they said in unison.

“But if you hadn’t,” he gestured at Luna, who was picking wildflowers that he knew would end up in his hair, “We wouldn’t have her.”

“I guess you’re right,” she smiled as Luna ran back to them, jumping into Regulus’ lap and immediately pushing the flowers through his curls, “She is pretty much the best thing ever.”

He tried, after their conversation, to get back a little bit of normalcy.  He went to castings, went to the gym, made dinner, watched TV, and he put a strict screen time limit on his phone, so that every time he picked it up, the white screen and annoying little hourglass forced him to think about things, and to put it down again.

That didn’t stop him from thinking about James, but it at least put an end to the incessant, aching feeling he got every time he saw their last messages.

rablack: Made it home.  Thanks for dinner.

jamespotter: Anytime!  See you soon (I hope)

And Regulus had hoped that they would keep talking, that James would ignore his jabs about being desperate and continue to message him, but the hours had stretched into days had stretched into weeks, and still there was nothing.

Finally, after three weeks, his worst fears seemed to be confirmed.

It was a shoot day, and Regulus was checking his phone as he got that incredible facial massage that predicated a full and busy day.

He had three messages, one each from Barty, Pandora, and Evan.

Pandora’s was kindest, which he could have expected:

You okay?

Then Evan’s message:

Rough.

Finally, Barty, which was as funny as it was insulting:

Looks like you won’t be getting laid after all.

Heart in his throat, he messaged Pandora back.

What is it?  I don’t want to look.

But before Pandora had finished typing, Barty had messaged him again.  A link to an Instagram story from James Potter.

He groaned, leaning forward in his chair, away from the soothing fingers of his makeup artist, and clicked on the link that was staring back at him.

It was a photo, not of James, but of Lily Evans.  She was looking down at their son, a wide smile on her face.  The worst of this was the big red heart emoji James had put on the photo, over his son’s face, and Lily’s Instagram handle in the upper right corner.

His heart sank to his stomach as he looked at the photo.

Stupid stupid stupid, he thought to himself, stuffing his phone away and trying to smile naturally at his makeup artist so she could continue working.  Stupid to think that James was different from another actor, stupid to think that he was earnestly interested in Regulus outside of a quick fuck in another timezone, and stupid to think, once again, that he was any different than the myriad of people that threw themselves at him every day.

He did his best to push the shame, the heartache, and the simmering anger to the side and focus on the shoot that was mere minutes from starting.

He did his best with it, even though he knew it wasn’t his best work, and left as soon as the photographer had given the all clear, splurging on an Uber instead of the train, and pressing his head against the car window, not even attempting to make small talk with his driver.

That evening, after his shoot, he was holed up in his flat with a mountain of takeaway, scrolling through his phone, nearly hunched over in his effort to find more information about Lily and James.

He felt like he was losing his grip on things, even as he tapped from story to story, switching back to the story on James’ post again and again.

Blind Item: This A List Actor is Back Together with his Artist Flame (James Potter/Lily Evans)

He didn’t know why he felt like this.  It wasn’t like they had ever been together.  Realistically, James owed him nothing, and there was no use acting like a jealous girl when all he had really done was the logical thing: going back to the woman that was the mother of his child.

“Fuck,” he groaned, stretching back on the couch, and rubbing his itching eyes.  He really should go to bed.  Maybe, after weeks of wishing, aching, wondering what would happen, he would finally be able to sleep with the knowledge that James Potter was part of his past now.

Suddenly, the rattling of his doorknob broke him out of his depressing musings.  Jumping to his feet he thought, vaguely, that he should probably have a better response to situations like this than just freezing in place.  He waited, listening to the door swing open, before Pandora came around the corner, her eyebrows lifting in surprise as she saw him on his feet.

“What’s wrong with you?” he gasped, sinking back down on the couch, “You scared me.”

“Oh come on, I didn’t exactly come in like an intruder.  I live here too, you know?”

“I thought you were with Luna tonight,” he looked around, as though she might materialize beside her, “Where is she?”

“She had a sleepover tonight, if you can believe it,” she said, flopping down beside him, “I’ll pick her up in the morning.”

“You just gave her away?” he whined, “I wanted to see her.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes and knocking into his shoulder.

“You’ll see her tomorrow.  Can I have some of this?”

“Stunned that you asked at all and didn’t just start eating.”

“I resent that,” she propped her feet up on the table and took Regulus’ empty plate out of his hands, “What’re you up to?”

“Nothing,” he hastily tried to stuff his phone away, but she was too quick for him and snatched it out of his hand, looking down at the bright screen.

“Oh Reg, not Deuxmoi.”

He flushed, trying to grab it out of her hands.

“It’s purely for research purposes.”

She held it out of his reach, a sly grin stretching across her face.

“You could just, you know, ask Sirius.”

“Are you insane?  I’m not going to ask my brother if his best friend swings both ways.  Or if he’s back together with his very hot girlfriend.”

“You’re right, she is very hot.”

“You aren’t helping here.”

She shrugged, taking a bite of rice.

“I’m just commiserating with you.  And anyway, it’s not like they were kissing or anything in the photo.”

“Just a big red fucking heart,” he said sourly, thinking about the photo again and his stomach twisting into knots.

“That could be just to cover his kid’s face,” she said reasonably, scooping out a spoonful of salt and chili chicken onto her plate, “And anyway, he seemed really into you at the party.”

“How would you know, you were schmoozing.”

“I have eyes everywhere.”

He snorted, reaching out to take another spring roll.

“You were watching me?”

“Listen, I know how you get with people that hot, and so I just…kept an eye on you.”

“You make it sound like I was a vampire that was going to drag him away.”

“I have my suspicions about that,” she laughed at the expression on his face, “But it was more for you than it was for him.”

“I don’t need to be protected,” he said petulantly, turning away from her.

“Well obviously you do,” she waggled the phone still in her hand, “Because this shows that you are deeply unwell.”

“Like you didn’t do the same thing for six full fucking weeks when that tortured writer ghosted you.”

Her jaw dropped indignantly.

“You swore you would never bring that up again.”

“I did swear that,” he smirked at her, “But now I can use it against you, and who would I be if I didn’t do that.”

“I hate you,” she looked away from him, “Here I am, leaving Luna with Barty and Evan to come over here and console you and here I am.”

“And I’m reiterating that you should have brought her, she always consoles me.”

“Well, she’s in bed, so you’re stuck with me.”

He scooted over on the couch, leaning over so his head was resting on her shoulder.

They stayed that way for a while, watching the flickering light of the television on mute, the Chinese takeaway growing cold between them.

“So,” Regulus broke the silence, sitting up straight, and rolling out the stiffness in his neck, “No more.  I’m done.”

“This is why I should quit fashion and become a therapist,” she said, standing up to start clearing away the food, “Two minutes and I’ve cured you.”

He snorted, standing up to help her.

“Sure, and it has nothing to do with the three glasses of wine I drank before you got here.”

___________

He got a call from his agent two weeks after the photo had been posted, about a month after his dinner with James, and his promise not to ever interact with him again.

“Regulus!” Ernie’s tone was bright and chipper as ever, “I have a new casting for you.  Well-  Series of castings.  New location!”

Regulus smiled, pressing the phone between his shoulder and his ear.  Ernie was young, and Regulus had been one of his first clients when he broke away from his parents.  He was overzealous and a little overenthusiastic sometimes, but Regulus liked him anyway.

“Where?”

“This is the best part.  Los Angeles.  James Perse wants you for sure for a summer streetwear line.”

Regulus nearly groaned out loud.  Why was the universe punishing him?  What had he done to deserve this?

The problem with being Ernie’s client for nearly four years, was that he could recognize Regulus’ attitude, even through the phone.

“Is there a problem with LA?”

“No it-” he would not let any perceived feelings about James Potter ruin this opportunity for him, “It’s exciting.  I’ve never been.”

“Wonderful!  You’ll have a shoot with them on Friday and another casting lined up too.  I’m flying over too for a few meetings so we’ll have a dinner or two along the way.  The agency is willing to pay for your travel to see you, so I’ll have my assistant coordinate with you.

He rubbed his forehead, but kept his voice light, staving off any more questions from Ernie.

“Great, thanks.  Thanks Ernie.”

“Great,” he seemed relieved, “Good.  I’ll meet you when you get there, and I’ll send you the itinerary here shortly too.”

“Okay.  Yeah.  Thank you.”

He texted their group immediately.

Ernie’s sending me to LA.

What the fuck?  Barty’s response was immediate, I swear I have to get with your agency.

Who for?

Yeah, Pandora said, Who’s trying to steal you away from me?

James Perse.

What’s the new term?  Fisherman chic?

It is not fisherman chic.

No, Reg is right, Evan said, It’s like…rich yachting chic.  What rich people think fisherman chic is.

When do you leave?

Probably day after tomorrow.  They’re flying me out.

Can I stay in your flat?  Barty asked at once.

No.

No, Pandora reiterated immediately.

Fucking bastards.

Chuckling to himself, he popped out of their thread to text Sirius.

Are you in LA right now?

Yeah.  Why?

Can I crash with you?  I have a few castings, maybe a shoot, and don’t want the hassle of a hotel.

Sure yeah, I don’t see why not.  My friend James is crashing with me right now, is that cool?

Motherfucker.

Yeah, that’s fine.

His kid might be around for awhile too, but he’s cool.  The best actually.

And probably his hot girlfriend too, Regulus thought to himself bitterly.

No problem.

“Are you insane?” Barty asked him, incredulously, that evening, “You’re going to stay with him?”

“No,” Regulus spun himself on the barstool he was sitting on, watching Barty cook pasta on the stove, “I’m staying with Sirius.”

“But he’ll just happen to be staying there?”

“Yeah, I’ll be at castings and stuff most of the day, we probably won’t even see each other.”

“You are delusional,” Evan came out of their bedroom, shaking his head, “You’ll make sure you see each other.  I know you.”

“I’m there for work,” he said stubbornly, “I’m not there for…anything else.”

“Okay,” Barty laughed, “And when you call us and say he fucked you in your brother’s flat, make sure to remember we had this conversation.”

“We are not going to fuck in my brother’s flat,” he said forcefully, folding his arms as he continued spinning on the barstool, “He’s got a girlfriend, and I have no interest in being a mistress.”

“Since when?” Evan plopped down next to him, stopping his spinning with his foot, “I used to think you liked sex to exclusively break up people.”

“Didn’t work for you and Barty,” he pointed out.

“Yeah well,” Evan shrugged, noncommittal and unbothered, “I wasn’t gay at the time.”

“I seem to recall you telling me you would rip my head off if I ever touched Barty again.”

“You have a bad memory-” Evan started, but Barty cut him off, pointing his wooden spoon at him like a reprimand.

“He does not.  You said exactly that to him, and it was the hottest thing anyone has ever done in the history of the universe.  You will not erase that moment from history because you’re embarrassed that it happened.”

Regulus broke into laughter at the expression on Evan’s face, even as Pandora let herself in, surveying the scene with an eyebrow raised.

“What’s going on here?”

“They’re discussing the time they fucked,” Evan said blandly.

“Oh god,” she threw her bag down on the sofa, crossing over to the stove to start micromanaging Barty, “Not again.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Barty cooed over his shoulder, “You know I only have eyes for you.”

Evan snorted in spite of himself, and leaned his elbows against the stone of the countertop.

“I know that, or Regulus and I would be fighting to the death, gladiator style.”

“What’s your weapon?” Regulus was glad to be away from the subject of his impending trip, “Fists or rocks?”

“Rocks?” Evan looked aghast, “You’re gonna stone me?”

“Only if you don’t stone me first,” he shrugged, “You’re fast, you have a good chance.”

“Regulus is stalling,” Barty informed Pandora, “He’s staying at Sirius’ flat for the trip, and guess who is staying with him?  Hot actor James who he’s definitely not hung up on.”

“Fucking tattle-tale,” he hissed, as Pandora swung around to look at him, horrified.

“What?”

“It’s not like I’m going to see him that much,” he started again, feeling like his argument was even feebler than before, “He’s staying with Sirius too but-”

“Regulus…”

“Look. Drop it!” he snapped, “I’m staying with Sirius, I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.  I won’t go looking for him because he’s already ghosted me, and I would genuinely rather die than be seen as desperate.”

Barty made a face like he thought he had a point, but Pandora and Evan were not moved.

“So you’re saying,” Regulus didn’t even bother to hide his eye roll as Evan continued, “When this inevitably backfires on you, you won’t come crying to us?”

“Of course I will,” he said, earning a laugh from the others, “That’s what friends are for though, keep each other together even when they were warned not to do the very thing that made them miserable.”

“Fair enough,” Evan laughed, finally dishing up pasta for each of them, “Alright.  Eat, took me long enough.”

“More importantly,” Barty swiped his bowl from the counter and stomped over to the television, “What are we watching?”

Later that evening, when they were all sprawled on the couch, watching a bad horror movie, his phone buzzed in his hand, hanging slackly off the end of the couch, his eyes focused on the film in front of him.

Looking down, his heart stuttered in his chest when he saw an Instagram message from none other than James Potter himself.  He fumbled with his phone, glancing around at the others, but Pandora was focused intently on the movie, while Evan was on his phone, and Barty was snoring in his lap.

jamespotter: I hear you’re coming to LA

Oh good.  Great.  Great that he knew that.

rablack: How in god’s name do you know that?

jamespotter: Sirius told me

Fuck, he knew he shouldn’t have said a fucking word to him about it.  He should have just gotten a hotel and not given the situation a second thought.

rablack: Yes, I’ll be there next week.

jamespotter: When can I see you?

Regulus wanted to type back something snappy, something along the lines of “you can spend the time you would be spending with me with your girlfriend.”  But he couldn’t quite manage to hit send.  Instead, he messaged,

rablack: Don’t know that I’ll have time to be social.

jamespotter: Come on, just one dinner.  Or drink.  Or coffee.  Or something

rablack: I can’t make you any promises.

jamespotter: I’ll change your mind when you get here!

Under normal circumstances, Regulus would have scoffed, rolled his eyes, and blocked him without a second thought.  Unfortunately for him, this persistence, this refusal to give up, it was sort of working on him, and he couldn’t help the rush of excitement in the pit of his stomach when he thought about seeing James again.

Even if he had a beautiful, successful girlfriend.  Even if they could only be friends.

Chapter Text

He flew from Heathrow to LAX that Thursday, relaxing in business class, and enjoying truly horrible airplane food as the sun rose at forty thousand feet, reading a trashy romance novel that Pandora had insisted would change his mind on the genre.  Shockingly, it did not.

When he landed, he checked his phone, scrolling through the mostly pointless notifications that had come through during the flight.  He saw an itinerary from Ernie’s assistant, several hundred texts from the group chat, and a flurry of Instagram notifications, most of them from the story he had posted before he left. 

As he looked through them, one in particular made his heart shoot upward into his throat,

jamespotter liked your story

“Fuck you,” he whispered to the notification, fully understanding that he was losing his grip on things.

Landed, he texted the group as he was walking out of the jetway, a tradition they had kept up no matter how far they had flown away from London.

Is it hot?  Barty responded immediately.

Don’t know yet, haven’t been outside.  The airport is ice cold.

 The airport was huge, a winding, sinewing, living, breathing thing, and he dodged around people in Mickey Mouse ears and LA Dodgers hats, his bag swung securely over his back, his hands in the pockets of his baggy sweatpants, reserved for traveling.

Barty was right, it was boiling outside, even in the shade.  He stood to one side, waiting for his Uber, savoring the blasts of ice cold air that hit him every time the sliding doors opened.

Finally, he saw the dark blue Toyota he was looking for, and darted across the lanes of waiting cars, slipping inside the backseat.

“Regulus?” the driver asked, and, at his nod, pulled away.

It took them nearly an hour to get to Sirius’ high-rise flat in the center of the city.  Regulus’ music was loud in his ears as they waited in lines of unending traffic, sometimes stopping suddenly, so his driver grumbled under his breath.

The high rise was surrounded by quiet greenery, so that the sounds of city were oddly muted.  The driver pulled up to the gate, and Regulus climbed out, thanking him and moving towards the call box, pressing the large silver button in the bottom right corner.

“10 West Century Drive,” a cool, tinny voice issued from the box.

“Er,” Regulus held down the button again, “I’m staying with Sirius Black.  Apartment 35A.”

He waited, and after a moment, the gate made a slight jerking motion, and opened, bumping along its little track.

He made his way up the cobblestone driveway, through the opulently beautiful lobby, all creams and dark black accents, and towards the front desk.

“Mr. Black,” the man smiled at him, “Your brother told us you’d be arriving.  How was the traffic?”

“Terrible,” he said, “I don’t know how you live with it.”

He laughed.

“All part of living in Los Angeles,” he held out his hand, “If I could just see your ID.  For security purposes.”

“Sure,” he fumbled through his pockets, drawing out his passport and handing it over.  As the man scanned the document, he turned, taking in the soft curves of lights hanging from the ceiling at intervals, over plush furniture.  The place was deserted, but even empty, it gave an air of wealth, like diamonds were glittering in the ceiling above them.

“Here you are,” he handed him back his passport, “Apartment 35A, floor code is 62442.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said.  An American phrase. “Let us know if you need anything.”

Nodding faintly, Regulus shouldered his bag, and walked over to the elevator bank, pressing the button that said “35” and entering the floor code, rising so rapidly that his ears popped.

The landing outside the elevator was so thickly carpeted that his feet made no noise as he crossed to the door that read 35A and knocked quietly, waiting awkwardly in the hallway.

Sirius pulled it open, a wide grin on his face.

“Guess they let any old riffraff into this place now.”

“Well you have the security of the houses of fucking Parliament, so I guess I passed the stringent test.”

“Did they make you take the standardized test?” he asked, standing to the side to let him pass.

“No, they took a few vials of blood though,” he stared at the open living room, “Nice.”

“Yeah, it has its perks,” Sirius spoke carelessly, waving his hand at the truly glorious few of the city in front of them.   The living space was wide and open, with from floor to ceiling, so that there was a nearly 360 degree view no matter where he looked.

The furniture was mostly at odds with the light walls and brightness of the light streaming in from the windows.  It was mostly black, from the couches to the entertainment center to the massively large television set on the wall opposite the couches.  There were video game console controllers tossed on the coffee table, almost as though they were just discarded.

“Who decorated?” he turned his head this way and that, trying to see every angle of the place, “Not you.”

“How do you know not me?”

“Because it’s too tasteful,” Sirius scoffed, looking like this jab deeply offended him, “You can’t even hang a poster straight. Forgive me for not thinking you would be thinking so intensely about interior design.

“Whatever,” he said venomously, “My-  Well…my boyfriend helped.”

Regulus blinked, smiling slightly at his obvious embarrassment, shifting from side to side on the balls of his feet, looking at Regulus nervously out of the corner of his eye.

“Boyfriend?  That’s a new development.”

Sirius seemed relieved that the subject had finally been broached.  He imagined him waiting to tell him this in person, pacing back and forth in front of the endless windows, nervously glancing at the clock every so often.

“It’s-  Not really.  I mean…we’ve only just labeled it.”

“Who is he?”

He had never seen the softness that came across Sirius’ face.  It made him look years younger, like the gangly teenager that always had to run and vomit before he walked a show.

“He’s-  We’ve been friends for years.  He’s British.  He’s a writer.”

“And?”

“And we sort of got...closer recently,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “And-  Well it doesn’t matter.  He’ll-  I thought I’d take us out to dinner if-  If you have time between shoots.”

He smiled at the anxiety that laced Sirius’ tone.

“I’d love that.  My evenings should be mostly free, barring today.”

“What’s today?”

“Dinner with the designer himself,” he shrugged, pretending not to be nervous about it, suddenly realizing the ache in his shoulders, “Can I-  Er-”

“Yeah,” Sirius beckoned him down a hallway, lined with yet more windows on one side, “You’ll be in here.  I’m on the other side, and James is next door.  Well, between the bathroom.”

“Great,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Did you meet James?” he asked, clearly not suspecting anything, “I brought him to Pandora’s party.”

“Yes, we met,” he kept his voice level, “I don’t know much about him.”

Sirius opened the door to the first bedroom, gesturing him inside.  Yet more windows were on the opposite wall, with shafts of afternoon light crossing about halfway through the room.  The bed was large and looked so inviting Regulus wanted to fall face first into it.  A large television was hung on the wall, the remote laid neatly on the bedside table.

He set down his bag gratefully, staring out at the rolling Hollywood Hills.

“He’s just crashing here between shoots.  He would stay with his parents but,” he paused, “He said he wanted a break and wanted to stay here.  So here he is.  It’s better for Lily and Harry too.”

Regulus chewed on his bottom lip, his back still turned to Sirius.

“How long have you had this place?” he wanted to ask about Lily, but decided he was better than that.  For the moment, anyway,  “I thought you were staying in another neighborhood.”

“I was,” he shrugged, “But-  Well-  The money is good and I wanted my own place.  James’ parents’ helped me out.  It was my thirtieth birthday present so-”

He broke off, shrugging in a modest way.

“Anyway, it’s been about five months since I closed.  It’s nice, especially when people are staying,” he opened his arms, nearly welcoming, “What’s your schedule?”

“Er,” he dug in his pocket for his phone, scrolling rapidly for the itinerary Ernie’s assistant had sent him the day before, “I have dinner tonight with the LA team and the designer I’m working with, like I said.  An all-day shoot tomorrow, a party, and then I go home Sunday.”

“Quick trip,” Sirius’ head was cocked to one side, like he was immersed in calculations, “That gives us, like, no time for me to show you LA.”

“I know,” he said apologetically, “But I may be back here more, depending on-  On work.”

“You’re not stealing my jobs, are you?” he asked, his voice suddenly light, like his disappointment was a blip on the radar, “This is my city.”

He scoffed, grateful that they had glossed over the sticky moment.

“I think you get plenty of jobs in my city, it’s only fair that I get a few here.”

Sirius blew air between his lips, considering the matter.

“I suppose,” he checked his watch, “When’s your dinner?”

“About an hour,” he looked listlessly at his bag, “I have to get ready.”

“Alright,” Sirius threw himself down on the bed, hands behind his head, “I’ll hang.”

“’Hang?’” he arched an eyebrow at him, “You really are an American.”

“Listen,” he seemed completely at ease as Regulus began taking out his neatly folded clothes, “I’ve lived here for sixteen years, I’ve got dual citizenship.”

“So you’re saying you are an American?” he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, staring at the piles in front of him, trying to decide which outfit was right for dinner.

“I’m saying I’ve picked up some of the slang,” he said haughtily, “You should wear the second one.”

Regulus turned to him in some surprise.

“Why?”

“Because, Caradoc Dearborn has a much more that one vibe than the third one.”

“You buy a lot of Caradoc Dearborn?”

“Fuck no,” he stretched languidly, “But my agent tried to force me to do one of his shoots two years ago, he’s very particular about his models.”

“How was the shoot?”

“Dunno, I didn’t end up doing it.  The stylist wanted me to cut my hair, and I wouldn’t do that in a billion years.”

Regulus finished getting ready in silence, but there was something nearly comforting about having Sirius there.  Things were still tenuous, but he thought it was a huge leap forward that he hadn’t told him to fuck off and get his own hotel.

“How do I look?” he asked ten minutes later, smoothing his hair back with a soft gel in his bag.

“Very Caradoc Dearborn.”

“I’m not sure how to take that, given that you just said you wouldn’t shoot for him in a billion years.”

“You need to have your ears checked,” he stood with a groan, “I said I wouldn’t cut my hair in a billion years.”

“Whatever,” he checked his hair in the tall mirror leaning next to the bed, “I have to call an Uber.”

“Don’t bother,” he was tapping away on his phone, “I can get you a car.  Part of the perks.”

“Rich bastard,” he muttered, but smiled all the same, “When?”

“Downstairs now,” Sirius jerked his head, “Get out of here.  You have the door code and,” he tossed him a small gold key, “Put this in your wallet.”

“Right,” he pocketed the key, “Well, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah yeah,” he shoved him, “Go away.”

A sleek black car was waiting for him when he got down to the lobby, and he was fortunate that it was only a short ride to the little restaurant near the Hollywood Hills.

The streets were packed with people, and Regulus hung around the front, smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves as he waited for Ernie.

It was less than ten minutes before he arrived, and he pulled Regulus into a tight hug that he had come to expect every time they met.  He was nearly a foot shorter than Regulus, so he always felt like he was hugging a child when they met.  Ernie didn’t seem to mind this, but swept his dirty blonde hair out of his face and beaming up at him.

“Good flight?” he asked, thumping him on the back as he released him, “I got in a few days ago.  After a hell of a week in New York.  Anyway!  It’s good to see you, been traveling too much to keep up with my favorite client.”

Regulus’ mouth lifted in a half smile.  He liked Ernie very much, in spite of his overenthusiastic and pompous nature.  He had supported Regulus through everything, even taken him as a client when he was doing everything he could to escape his family’s name.  He owed a lot to him, and if that meant a hug every time he saw him, that was a worthy price to pay.

“Come on, come on,” he ushered him in the cool restaurant, “I don’t think Caradoc and his team are here yet.”

“What is this for?” he asked as they were escorted to their table towards the back of the restaurant.  The place was dimly lit, with greenery hung from the rafters, giving the impression that they were in a darkened greenhouse, “I’m not sure I’ve had many dinners with the designers.”

“Well-” he sat down in his chair scooting forward so the chair legs scraped against the tile of the floor, “Now don’t get angry that I didn’t tell you, but he wants you to be the face of the new line.  Covershoot, marketing, advertising, the works.”

Regulus blinked.

“Oh-  Er-  Wow.”

“I know, I know, it’s a big commitment.  They’d want you here for all of it, but-”

“Wait-”

“But you’d only be here every few weeks.  And the brand will pay for it all, so we don’t have to worry about-”

“Be here?  For weeks?”

“Oh come on,” Ernie gestured around to the softly lit restaurant, “It’s not so bad.  You’ll like it once you’ve seen a little more of it.  And get rid of the jet lag.”

“Yeah,” he shook his head, doing his best to clear it, “You’re right.  Ernie, thank you-”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said brightly, “We get through this dinner, sign the contract tomorrow, and do the shoot.”

“Are you saying if they don’t like me, I don’t get the opportunity?”

“I’m saying,” he looked over his shoulder, jerking his head to indicate that Regulus should stand up, “Best behavior.”

Caradoc Dearborn was not what he had been expecting.  He was handsome with very dark eyes and a brilliantly white smile, dressed like every other Silicon Valley tech bro that was a dime a dozen in this city.  He was only about forty, and wore a plain black baseball cap low over his eyes.  He approached the table, looking at him appraisingly as he did so.

Regulus was used to the look.  Designers and stylists wore it incessantly, as though placing him in their clothes inside their heads, imagining him as the face of their brands, their lines, their life’s work.

“Caradoc!” Ernie rounded the table to shake his hand, “Good to see you!  And this is Regulus.”

Regulus extended his own hand, feeling the callouses on his hands from hours at the sewing machine as they shook.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said formally, waiting until he and his four companions had seated themselves before taking his own seat.

The truth was, he didn’t need Ernie’s coaching on this.  He had been in the industry from the time he was a child, walking in a Valentino show holding his Aunt Druella by the hand.  He knew the way these people worked, he knew how to treat them, and he knew exactly what to say.

“Good to fucking meet you, man,” Caradoc’s voice was truly that stereotypical California accent that he had only ever heard in the movies, “I’ve been watching your career for years.”

“Oh,” he was nonplussed by the casual way he talked, “I-  Thank you.”

“Sure,” he leaned back in his chair, smiling up at the waitress and ordering a bourbon smoothly, “I’ve basically been obsessed, like pasting pictures of your face over my mockups kind of obsessed.”

Regulus blinked, pushed off-kilter by his behavior.

“I-” he cleared his throat, looking at Ernie, who looked as bewildered as he did at his tone, “Er-”

“You Brits really do have a stick up your asses,” he laughed, “Loosen up, I’m not testing you.”

Regulus sat back in his chair hesitantly, picking up his wine glass and taking a sip.

“Right,” Caradoc looked over at the thin blonde woman next to him, “Look, you’ve got the gig.  I want you to do the whole shebang.  The covershoot, the line, all of it.  Now we can have dinner, and you don’t have to worry about impressing us.”

With that out of the way, the dinner itself was actually quite nice.  Regulus liked Caradoc, even though he seemed to be something out of 90210, and his posse was pretty much the same, but they didn’t talk about fashion or much about the line, and instead talked about the perks of California, about surfing, about sharks, about London.  Regulus liked his relaxed attitude, and that they didn’t have to talk about work.

“You’ve been in the game a long time,” Caradoc observed as they walked out of the restaurant into the sidewalk now bustling with people.  They stepped off to the side of the restaurant, where several empty tables stood, glittering mutely in the fairy lights strung up above their heads.

“Yes?” his voice lifted up in a question.

“I think you’ll like working with us,” he gestured to the rest of the team, “It’ll be a good partnership.”

“I’m excited,” he said sincerely, catching Ernie beaming out of the corner of his eye, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will,” he grinned, “Seven am, don’t be late.  I’ll have my team send the paperwork to Ernie tonight, so we don’t have to fuck with it tomorrow.”

“Right,” Regulus shook hands with the other people in his group, and watched them climb into a sleek black SUV, that carried them away down the block, around the corner, and out of sight.

“Well,” Ernie clapped him on the shoulder, looking nothing short of elated, “Well done!  That went well.”

“Yes,” he smiled at his enthusiasm, “Thank you for setting all this up, Ernie.”

“What are agents for?” he jingled his keys on his hand, “I’ll send over that paperwork as soon asn I’ve taken a look at it, and I’ll call you after the shoot.  Do you need a ride?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I’ll Uber.”

As Regulus stepped into his Uber five minutes later, he leaned against the window, turning over the dinner in his mind.  He had known for a very long time that Americans were strange, but he hadn’t thought things would be so casual in a professional dinner.

He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, Sirius fit in well here, that should have been all the proof he needed that casual was the default state.

He let out a breath, forcing his shoulders to relax, unfocusing his eyes so that everything was a blur of lights and patches of brief darkness.

He had hoped that Sirius would be asleep by the time he got back, so he could sneak silently into his room and go to bed.  He felt like his social battery had been thoroughly depleted, and the jet lag was catching up with him too, so he felt unsteady on his feet as he shoved the key in the lock to Sirius’ front door.

He blinked slowly as he took in the brightly lit living room, and the sound of rumbling voices coming from down the hall.

“How’d the dinner go?” he heard Sirius’ voice call the moment he snapped the door shut behind him.  He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping against hope that he was alone and had just been talking to himself.

“Fine,” he walked towards the sound of his voice, feeling like he was approaching the guillotine.

As he had feared, James was sprawled out on Sirius’ couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, and a video game controller in his hands.  Worst of all, was that stupid, million watt smile all over his face as he looked at Regulus.

Deftly ignoring him, he looked at Sirius, who was on the opposite side of the couch, his feet in James’ lap, and looking at Regulus upside down.

“You know James, right?” Sirius pointed at him unnecessarily.  Their eyes met, and Regulus felt himself flushing traitorously.

“Yes,” he said stiffly, “It was fine, he’s very American.”

“What’s that mean?” James asked, still grinning at him.

“It means he was probably loud and obnoxious,” Sirius lifted his head to smirk at James, “Like you.”

James grabbed his heart in mock outrage.  Regulus definitely didn’t notice how a ratty sweatshirt and basketball shorts suited him.

“Me?” he said, “You don’t mean that, Padfoot.”

“Not me, I’m half American now,” Sirius pointed over his shoulder at Regulus, “Him.”

Regulus looked away before James could meet his eyes again, his chin jutting forward as he ground his teeth together.

“I’m going to bed,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.  Predictably, Sirius’ head whipped around.

“What do you mean?  It’s barely ten.”

Regulus couldn’t help but smile at the petulance in his voice.

“And I’m jet lagged,” he said coolly, “Anyway, I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Sirius waved his hand, already turning back to the game, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night, Regulus,” James said cheerfully, his eyes following him as he walked away.

“Night,” Regulus slipped down the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind him, and sank down onto the bed, staring out at the glittering lights of cars snaking along the streets below.

His eyes burned with tiredness, and it was all he could do to gather himself together enough to drag his trusty pajama shorts and his toiletries out of his bag and get into the shower across the hall.

He paused momentarily before he closed the bathroom door, listening to the low voices in the living room.

“You suck,” he heard Sirius say, “You’re off your game, Prongs.”

“Yeah,” James said, sounding distracted, “I’m getting tired too honestly.”

“You?” Sirius snorted, “You never go to bed before two.”

“Yeah,” he sounded like he was moving, like he was getting ready to get up from the couch, “I-  Didn’t sleep well last night.”

Before he could get caught eavesdropping, Regulus closed the door as silently as he could, and turned on the taps to the shower.

The moment that the scalding water hit his skin, he relaxed immediately, sagging into the side of the shower wall, and holding himself up with an elbow.

He could barely keep his eyes open as he scrubbed his hair and body clean, and had to actually hold onto the wall for support as he climbed out of the shower.  He would, in fact, have given everything that he owned to skip his skincare routine and go straight to bed, but the anxiety of an overnight breakout before a shoot forced him to stay upright and do each and every step of his too long routine.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he managed to put the cap on the last bottle, and stumbled back to the room next door, not even bothering to check if anyone was around.

How was it?  Pandora’s message was waiting for him in the dark bedroom.

Weird, but good I guess.  They’re so relaxed here it makes me nervous.

And James?

You’re becoming like Barty.

Am I supposed to take that as an insult?  You’re dodging the question.

I avoided him.

Wow, he could practically see the expression on her face, even though they were timezones apart, Growth.

Fuck you.

You and I both know neither of us would enjoy that.  Go to bed, so you can call me tomorrow and tell me about the shoot.

Smiling to himself, he set his phone down, rolled over, and fell asleep instantaneously.

Chapter Text

It felt like three seconds from the time his head hit the feather pillow to his phone going off, vibrating on the bedside table, signaling his alarm.

Groaning, he scrambled for it, pulling the covers over his head, and scrolling mindlessly for his designated five minutes before reluctantly swinging out of bed and pulling on the clothes he had neatly set out for himself the night before.

It was still dark out, and he had no desire to wake Sirius, who was a terror when he was disturbed too early, or even worse, James, so he tiptoed back into the bathroom, making sure not to turn on the light until the door was closed behind him.

His eyes were bloodshot and he did his best not to rub them, ascribing to the superstition that rubbing his eyes would give him dark circles, and he could not have dark circles on the shoot of his life.

Sighing, he patted his pockets to make sure he had the essentials (wallet, phone) and turned off the light, walking down the hall and towards the front door.

Dawn was breaking over the horizon out the windows, and there was already the red glow of brake lights on the freeway in the distance.  He was just moving forward to take a photo to send to the others when he heard the door down the hall creak open.

“Fuck,” he muttered, spinning on his heel and marching straight out the door, snapping it closed behind him.

Look, call him a coward or whatever, but he was not about to come face to face with James after a humiliating encounter the night before, especially when he was barely thrown together and headed for an incredibly long day.

James would know that his defenses were lowered, and would flirt with him accordingly.  And Regulus had to be on his game when he interacted with him.  He had no interest in being a secret fuck for James.

At least, that was what he was going to tell himself.

It was already boiling outside, even though it was still dark when he climbed into his Uber.

It’s so fucking hot here, he sent the message to their group, knowing that they were all awake.

Have you seen any palm trees?  Barty asked at once, You haven’t sent any pictures.

I’m sure I’ll see some today.  Probably be featured in the shoot.

Fisherman chic, Evan said, and Regulus scoffed down at the screen, like Evan could hear him.

How’s Sirius?

You’re not slick, I know what you’re really asking about.  You don’t care how Sirius is.

That’s true.

I haven’t talked to him.

Barty didn’t reply, but disliked the message.

You’re supposed to congratulate me for my restraint.

I’d rather see the drama.

“Fucker,” he muttered under his breath, swiping away from the messages.  He’d rather let him stew than deign to give that a response.

Instead, he turned his attention to the document that Ernie had sent him at 3 o’clock that morning, with an email reading,

All looks good here.  Sign and send back to me when you get a chance.

Break a leg today!  (It’s a theatre thing, not literally).

Ernie

Smiling at the message, he clicked through the contract, not bothering to really read it, and signed where indicated.  He knew enough to know that he had probably signed his life away thirty times over the years, and figured that, since nothing bad had happened so far, might as well do it again.

The streets were quiet at this time, and it was less than twenty minutes before his driver was pulling up in front of the studio, where lights were casting a soft golden light onto the pavement as the sun rose.

Thanking his driver, he stepped out into the hot morning air, shaking his head as he wiped the sweat gathering on his temple, and rang the bell by the door.

He was let in by a nervous, black-clad assistant that he didn’t recognize, and ushered immediately back to the bright lights of the makeup and hair area.

The studio was already bustling with movement, and Regulus watched several racks of clothing wheeled in before his eyes, even as the makeup artist consulted a sheet in front of her for what he should look like.

The moment she was finished with him, he was whisked off and stuffed into one of what looked like two hundred looks.  Assistants scuttled around him like ants, tugging the clothing this way and that, looking at him from every angle.

Finally, Caradoc Dearborn himself swept out from a corner that seemed to be littered with drawings and around half a dozen empty coffee cups, clapping Regulus on the shoulder and looking at his outfit with a critical eye.

He made notes to his assistants, and Regulus stood stock still, eyes straight ahead, keeping himself neutral.

“This looks good,” Caradoc smiled at him, “You ready to roll?”

“Yes,” he swallowed down his nerves, knowing that the moment that he got in front of the camera that they would melt away, “Any notes for-”

“My photographer’s got you,” he finished his thought before he had even fully formed it, “Most of this is for the website, I have some strings to pull and I think I can get something else on the books before you go back to London.”

“Great.”

“Well, I’ll be around, if something feels weird or fucked up, tell me.”

“Right,” he still wasn’t used to the casual way he was speaking to him.

The photographer, a very sweet woman named Hestia, walked him through the entire process.

“Caradoc and I have worked together for years,” he said, smiling so that it showed her dimples, “Sometimes I feel like I can read his mind.  Anyway!  You don’t have to be nervous or anything.  There are a lot of looks but-  I can zip you through them, especially since I know you’re a fast worker.”

“You-”

“I used to be an assistant photographer for British Vogue,” she smiled serenely, “We’ve worked together before.  Well, years ago.”

“Oh,” he felt guilty that he hadn’t recognized her, but she waved his words away before he could say them.

“Seriously, I was in the background with the lenses the whole time,” she laughed, “Now, get up there so we can get started.”

He generally didn’t mind shoot days, but this was definitely one of the longest he had ever done.  He and Hestia worked consistently until nearly six, with only minimal breaks for gulps of water and the bite of a sandwich. 

He liked the pace though, and he liked how Hestia and Caradoc didn’t mince words about how he should look or pose or turn.  It was quicker that way, so he didn’t have to guess what was in their heads for the vision of the look, and could just emulate what they asked instead.

Hestia played loud pop music through the speakers, and Regulus got lost in the beat, barely feeling the look changes and the touchups to his makeup.

“Okay,” Hestia seemed to breathe a sort of sigh of relief as Regulus changed for the final time, “Last one.  Check in?”

“Fine,” he smiled, since she had checked in on him at least a dozen times throughout the day, “How do you want me?”

“Caradoc!” she yelled over her shoulder, waiting for him to saunter over to them, “Do you have any specifics for this one?”

“Uhhh,” he looked at Regulus, rubbing his eyes vigorously, “Not really.”

“Helpful as always,” she patted his cheek affectionately, then pushed him away, “Fine, I’ll work my magic without you.”

She turned back to Regulus.

“Okay, let’s try that last pose again.”

When he was finally able to change into his own clothes, rubbing his shoulders from the hours of posing, Hestia showed him a few of the raw shots, pointing out what she liked about this one or that one. 

“I’ll be seeing you again,” she said brightly, “I think Caradoc is going to lock down a magazine shoot while you’re here, and he’s requested me to shoot it!”

“Great,” he would be relieved to work with her again, especially with her calming demeanor, “I’d love that.”

Beaming, she kissed him on the cheek and turned back to her photos.

He stood around the makeup area, swaying awkwardly from side to side, waiting for someone to tell him he was allowed to leave.

When are you done so I can call you? Pandora’s message made his phone buzz in his hand.

He looked around, not wanting to interrupt anyone in the middle of their work.  Luckily for him however, Caradoc had just looked up from his backlit table, and was stretching languidly.  Seizing his opportunity, he moved through the room, dodging around the assistants that seemed to just appear around every corner, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“What’s up?” he smiled at him, still mid-stretch.

“Do you,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “Do you still need me?”

“Huh?” he wrinkled his brow, “Nah, my assistant will shoot you details for tomorrow, I just have to call in a favor and we should be shooting.”

“Great,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Unless a meteor hits this place and takes me out,” he said nonchalantly, turning back to his designs, “Have a good night, man.”

Without waiting to be told twice, Regulus turned on his heel and swept out into the brightness of the late afternoon sunshine.

Call away.

Within three seconds, Pandora’s name flashed across his phone screen.

“What’s wrong?” he asked without preamble, leaning against the side of the studio’s wall and watching people milling across the street as the sunset blinded him.  He should have brought sunglasses.

“That motherfucker is stealing from me.”

“Which motherfucker are we talking about,” he felt himself relaxing at the sound of her voice, “Barty?  Evan?  Xenophilius?”

“Fucking Rookwood,” she spat, “He took one of my best girls again, promised her some covershoot that he’s never going to fucking get.”

“Who’d he take?” he asked, fishing in his pocket to shove sunglasses over his eyes, “Not Dorcas.”

“Dorcas would never leave me,” she scoffed, “Even though she’s missing the next show for a movie of all things.  No, he took Greengrass.”

“Come on,” he looked around the corner to make sure Caradoc or one of his three million assistants weren’t listening, “He can have her, you have us.”

“You’re so naïve,” she snapped, and he could hear her footfalls on the wood floor of their flat, “If he thinks he can take her he thinks he can take everyone.  He thinks he can get in with my contacts.  And all for that shit that belongs behind a fucking dumpster.  Who the fuck earnestly does peplum in the twenty first century?”

Regulus let her rant and rave, putting her on speaker so he could order another Uber back to Sirius’ flat.

Pandora had hated Augustus Rookwood for years, from the moment he had arrived on the scene with a line that was eerily similar to her own debut collection.  They had nearly come to blows the year before in Milan, when he had stolen a scrapped design from her and admitted that he had found the sketch on a napkin and taken it for his own.

And even though Regulus hated the little slimeball as much as she did, he could see what she couldn’t: she was soaring in the industry, known for taking risks and being unapologetic for it, while his lack of creativity and near plagiarism had stunted his own growth, and he was desperate for even a modicum of the success that she had.

“Anyway,” she finally drew breath when Regulus was safely ensconced in his car, “How was the shoot?  If you’re leaving me for Los Angeles-”

“I’ve been here for twenty four hours, I’m not leaving you for anything,” he rolled his eyes, “I like Caradoc, he’s easy to work with.  But I don’t know if the heat here agrees with me.”

“And James?” he didn’t appreciate the lilt in her tone, “You didn’t answer Barty earlier.”

“Because Barty didn’t deserve an answer,” he said flatly, “I haven’t seen him besides yesterday where we exchanged two words, and hopefully I’ll keep it that way.”

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “Maybe he’s not with his extremely hot girlfriend.”

“I’m not doing this with you,” he sighed, “I’m tired, and Sirius wants to have dinner tonight.”

“Oh you poor thing,” she cooed sarcastically, “I need you to come back, I miss you.  You’ve left me so lonely in our flat.”

“I’ll be home in like three days,” his tone softened, because he could tell that she meant it, “Go crash at Evan and Barty’s.”

“I can’t,” she whined, “Luna’s here and already in bed.”

“It’s so unfair that she’s there and I can’t see her,” he complained, “I feel like you’re keeping her from me on purpose.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve already heard all about how much she misses you ten times today,” she sounded slightly bitter, “It’s like I mean nothing to her anymore.”

“I can’t help she likes me the best.”

“Go away, go have your dinner and stop bothering me.”

“You called me, remember?”

“Goodbye,” she said, then, “I love you anyway.”

“I love you too,” he hung up the phone laughing.

He unlocked the door to Sirius’ flat ten minutes later, scrubbing a hand down his face and looking forward to whatever restaurant Sirius had in mind.

There was noise coming from the living room as he closed the door behind him.

“It’s me,” he kicked off his shoes by the door, waiting for a response before he moved.

“Hey,” he heard him call from the living room, followed by, “If you throw that again I’ll die.”

“Hi,” he called back, hoping against hope that James wasn’t with him this time, “I just need to shower and then I’ll be-”

He broke off, staring at the sight of Sirius sitting with a dark-haired child on the floor, several mountains of books and toys surrounding them.  Sirius was laser focused on the child, helping him build something out of a mish mash of various lego sets.

“Er,” Regulus blinked, frozen at the unexpected addition to Sirius’ flat, “Who-”

The child turned around at the sound of his voice, and he recognized the little face from his dinner with James.

“Harry, this is my brother,” Sirius groaned slightly as he struggled up from the floor, “Regulus, but you can call him Reg.”

Harry set down his lego carefully, standing up and sticking out his small hand seriously for Regulus to shake.  He bit back a smile as he took it.

“Nice to meet you,” he said solemnly, “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“We were just killing time,” Sirius plopped back down to the floor, “James had to go do a work thing, come sit down.”

Tentatively, Regulus perched himself on the sofa, looking down at the strange turrets and bridges that they were making into a makeshift city.

“This is cool,” he said, much more towards Harry than to Sirius.

Harry looked up at him, his wide green eyes an arresting color, and his somewhat serious face broke into a wide smile.

“I’m working on it with my friend Ron,” he said, scooting closer to show Regulus, who slid down to sit on the floor, his back against the sofa, “We trade.”

“Cool,” he repeated, deliberately ignoring the way Sirius was watching them, “What have you added?”

“This part here,” he pointed to a tall tower on the left corner of the city, “And I’m making Padfoot make a bridge to go here.  So then Ron and I can race our cars.  Our friend Hermione has a big lego set too and she said she’d let us bring it over and make it even bigger.”

“Do you want me to help?”

Harry looked at him, sizing him up with a hint of shrewdness that he had come to expect from Luna, he supposed it was a common look with most five year olds.

“You can build something for here,” he pointed to a small space in the middle of the little city, pushing a pile of blocks towards him, “We haven’t decided what we want it to be yet.”

“Okay,” he set to work, quietly clicking together blocks, making a sort of formless shape, and listening to Harry talk.

He seemed to be endlessly talkative, monologuing to them about school, his friends, the cat that lived at his mother’s house, and what he wanted for dinner.  Sirius talked right back to him, and the din was comforting, familiar.  It made him feel like he was making breakfast in the flat while Pandora and Luna made a potion in the bathroom sink down the hall.

“Padfoot,” Harry’s change in tone made Regulus look up, “I’m hungry.”

He was looking at Sirius with an open, expectant look on his face.  Sirius worried his bottom lip between his teeth, clearly torn between giving Harry everything he asked for and following what his parents told him to do.

“You’re eating with Prongs when he gets here,” he said tentatively.

“But I’m hungry now,” Harry didn’t sound whiny, just matter of fact.  So matter of fact, it nearly made Regulus laugh out loud.

“Look,” Sirius leaned forward, the small bridge he had been carefully crafting still clutched in his hands, “If I give you something, you can’t tell Prongs.”

Another wide smile broke out across Harry’s face.

“Okay.”

“You swear?” Sirius spoke skeptically, making it seem like Harry had gone back on his word before.

“Yeah!”

“Fine,” Sirius got to his feet again, using the couch to push himself up, “But not a word.”

Harry set down his lego carefully, then turned to Regulus.

“You come too,” he said, like it was obvious, and Regulus was slow on the uptake.

“Oh.  Right.  Of course,” Regulus set down his own lego and followed Harry into the spacious kitchen, leaning against the island while Sirius dug in the pantry.

“What do you want?” he looked down at Harry, who was standing with his arms folded in front the pantry door, evidently considering his many options.

“Fruit snacks.”

“Fruit snacks,” Sirius repeated, bending down to dig in a bright blue box near the bottom of the shelves, “Here.”

He handed Harry a pack, which Harry tore into happily.

“Here,” he held out his hand to Regulus, where a lone purple fruit snack sat.  Smiling, he took it from him, and popped it into his mouth.

It was similar to the sweets he could get at home, but chewier.

“That’s good,” he said, and Harry nodded like this was the correct answer, before turning on his heel and marching back to his legos.

“James’ll be here in like five,” Sirius told him as they made to follow Harry back to the living room, “Then we can go.”

“Okay,” he rubbed at the makeup that was still on his face, “I just need to shower.”

“Well hurry up and do that,” Sirius said impatiently, “We have a reservation at seven.  Remus is meeting us there.”

“Ooh a reservation?” he batted his lashes, “How sweet.”

“Fuck you,” Sirius flipped him off the moment he was sure that Harry had his back turned, “Get out of here.”

“Bye Harry,” Regulus waved at him, “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

“Bye!” Harry was immersed in his legos again, “See you soon!”

Chuckling to himself, he shut himself in the shower, scrubbing off the makeup and the weight of the day, changing into a comfortable, soft dress shirt and pants, anxious to impress Remus.

By the time he was satisfied with his appearance, Sirius was banging on the bathroom door, yelling,

“Move your ass!  We’re gonna be late.”

Regulus pulled open the door, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Settle down, will you?  You can’t rush perfection.”

“Maybe not, but I can rush you,” Sirius was dressed in all black, a buttery leather jacket slung over his shoulders, and his black painter’s pants tucked into studded Doc Martens, a chain looping from the side of one pocket, “Hurry the fuck up, you look fine.”

“Impatient,” Regulus followed him downstairs, to the interior of another sleek car, which pulled away smoothly as soon as they were inside, “What do I need to know about Remus?”

“Know about him?” Sirius leaned back in his seat, looking relaxed and at ease, an earring dangling from one ear, “This isn’t a fucking test, Regulus.  He just wants to meet you.”

He held up his hands defensively.

“Forgive me for wanting to know a little bit more about him before I meet him,” he sassed, “I’ll just go in blind.”

“He’s much nicer than me,” Sirius had that soft look on his face again, “You’ll like him.”

“That’s not hard to do,” he crossed his legs, scrubbing a hand down his face, “Considering how mean you are.”

“I resent that,” he pointed a threatening finger at him, that Regulus swatted at, “So, how was your shoot?”

They whiled away the very long ride to the restaurant, most of which was in stopped traffic on the freeway, talking about Regulus’ shoot.  Sirius’ first question to him was “is he hot in person?”, which meant they pored over photos of him on google, determining whether or not they really could consider him hot.

They reached their decision right as they pulled up to the restaurant.  The verdict was: he was hot, but in a California way.

“Whatever that means,” Sirius climbed out of the car, waiting for Regulus on the sidewalk and waving to the driver before he pulled away, “California hot sounds fake.”

“What’s California hot?” a voice behind them said, and they turned in unison.  The man who spoke was tall, taller than either of them, even taller than James.  He was leaning heavily on a walking stick, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up past his elbows, and his soft, light brown hair was shaggy, falling into his eyes.

“Hey,” Sirius’ voice had gone up half an octave, and Regulus didn’t have to work hard to see that this had to be Remus, “How are you?”

“Oh, fine,” Remus reached out his free hand automatically to take Sirius’, smiling at him softly, “What’s California hot?”

“We were talking about Caradoc Dearborn,” Sirius’ eyes were focused completely on Remus, “We’ve decided he’s hot, but only California hot.”

“That tells me nothing,” Remus said mildly, turning away from Sirius and smiling at Regulus, “Hi, I’m Remus.”

“Hi,” Regulus smiled back, “Very nice to meet you, I’ve heard nothing.”

“Nothing?” Remus grinned at Sirius, “Well, that’s me put in my place.”

“He’s lying to you!” Sirius cried, “I have talked about you, I just refused to tell him your life story on the way here to prepare him for the social interaction.”

“That’s not fair,” Regulus snapped at once, “I never asked for that.”

“Oh yes you-”

“Well, I can see that you are definitely related,” Remus cut across their arguing smoothly, “Should we continue this over dinner?  I’m starving.”

Dinner with Remus was very pleasant.  He and Regulus got along well almost immediately, and, though Sirius said he deeply resented this, Regulus could tell that he was secretly relieved.

“So,” Remus sat forward in his seat as their salad plates were whisked away by their waiter, “You had a shoot today, Sirius told me.  How was it?”

“It was good,” Regulus took a sip of his drink, savoring the warmth of the alcohol down his throat, “I’m doing the whole line, shoot, the show, everything.”

“So will that be here or in London?” Remus asked, interested.

“Here, I think,” he shuddered at the idea of having to get used to the weather, “So you-  You might be seeing more of me.”

He directed this at Sirius, worrying, fleetingly, that he was overstepping.  Putting down business roots in the city that Sirius had called home for over a decade was a risk.  Their relationship was still tenuous, even though things had progressed much faster in the last few weeks than Regulus ever would have thought possible.

“You can crash with me anytime,” Sirius said, evidently quite at ease with this idea, and not picking up Regulus’ anxiety in the slightest, “We can show you more of the city of you’re here for longer than ten seconds.

As Remus and Sirius were pulled into a conversation about Remus’ work day, Regulus couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, feeling tension bleeding from his muscles.

He had spent a long time, too long, hating Sirius for abandoning him with their parents and running away to Los Angeles to live with an unknown friend, barely even writing to him.  Even though they had both been free from them for years, their truce had been tenuous, conversations stilted.

Part of Regulus wondered if James had something to do with it.  The change had started the night they met.

“Regulus said he wanted to know about me,” Remus was saying, looking exasperated at the look on Sirius’ face, “I intend to tell him about me.”

“He’s going to fall in love with you,” Sirius whined, and Regulus snorted in an undignified way.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he turned to look at Remus, “Not to say you’re not way out of his league, which you are,” he ignored the noise Sirius made at that, “But we have diametrically opposite taste in men.  Have for years.”

“Are you saying you’re with someone and I don’t know about it?” Sirius asked, almost accusatory, “Or are you in a weird polycule with your friends.”

“Not anymore,” he laughed as Sirius’ eyebrows nearly flew off his face, “I was never in a polycule with them.”

“God, please tell me you didn’t fuck Crouch.”

He lifted one shoulder, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows as he stared at Sirius.

“We do have opposite taste,” Sirius looked disgusted, “What does that make your type?  Assholes?”

Maybe, the jury was out on that.

He settled for another shrug, and Remus laughed.

“You really are birds of a feather,” he observed, tucking into the plate of pasta that had just been dropped in front of him, “What was Sirius like when he was younger?”

Now this was a subject that he was much keener on.

“Oh he was a terror,” he ignored the frantic movements that Sirius was making, trying to get him to stop talking, “Constantly causing problems with my mother.  And my father.  And me too, come to think of it.”

“He’s lying again,” Sirius had turned scarlet at the direction of the conversation.  Both Regulus and Remus ignored him.

“In fact, I seem to remember him asking me to cover for him when he was what?  Fifteen?  And telling me to tell our mother it was for a modelling shoot, when really he was meeting up with a girl he had met at a show.”

“You weren’t complaining when I covered for you the very next week to go out with your friends,” Sirius snarled.

Remus, for his part, seemed to be enjoying the bickering, his head moving back and forth like he was watching a tennis match.

“That was one-” he broke off, doing the calculations in his head, knowing what he was about to say was a lie.  Sirius seized on this at once.

“Aha!  Exactly!  See Moony, I told you!”

“What’s the nickname thing?” Regulus rested his chin on his hand, “Is it something I’m missing out on?”

“It’s a thing we picked up when we met,” Remus said, “My friend Peter and I-  Peter Pettigrew, I don’t know if you know him, he’s an incredible visual artist.  Well-  He and I were completely out of our element at a friend’s birthday party-”

“Lily Evans,” Sirius chipped in over his steak, “James’ baby-mama.”

“Don’t be quite so fucking crass, Sirius,” Remus chided him, “Anyway, yes, James’ partner at the time-”

Regulus’ heart skipped into his chest at his words.

“Lily, she’s also an artist, she introduced us to James, who of course had Sirius in tow.  And well, we became friends pretty immediately, wouldn’t you say?” he looked over at Sirius, whose face was soft again, “Anyway, Sirius and James came up with the nicknames.  Apparently based on the animals we’re the most like.”

“We took a quiz in the bathroom,” Sirius said, like this was the obvious thing to do at a party, “And we each got a different animal.  So we commemorated the occasion with nicknames.”

“I was a wolf,” Remus rolled his eyes, and Regulus had a hard time placing that animal with his soft-spoken nature, “So they call me Moony.”

“And I was a dog,” Sirius said proudly, “So, Padfoot.”

“Padfoot?”

“Yeah, like,” he waved his hands in the air, like he could catch the words he meant to say, “Because of the pads of their feet.”

“Right,” Regulus had no clue what he was talking about.

“And Peter was a rat,” Remus headed off Regulus, who was about to interrupt, “It fits him actually.  Not in the negative way.  He’s very resourceful, he does most of his work in reclaimed materials.”

“So we call him Wormtail.  Because, tail like a worm.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Regulus hated that his heart beat faster knowing only James was left.

“And James was a stag, so he insisted that we call him Prongs, because of the antlers.”

“And how old were you when this happened?”

“What do you think, Sirius?  Twenty-three?”

Regulus closed his eyes and looked away, doing his best not to burst out laughing.

“They’ve stuck too,” Remus smiled over at Sirius, “We pretty much exclusively refer to each other with our nicknames whenever we’re together.  It’s easier now, since I’ve moved here full time and Peter is in San Diego.”

“I couldn’t imagine doing distance with my crew,” he shuddered at the thought, “We’re too codependent on each other.”

“I wish I could have seen that one show you both did,” Remus’ eyes sparkled as he looked at Sirius again, “But I couldn’t get away from the deadline that’s constantly chasing me down.  Plus, well, to be honest, I hate flying.”

“I told him I’d charter a private jet for him,” Sirius may as well have had hearts coming out of his eyes, “But the deadline…”

“What are you writing?” Regulus asked.

“I’m working on a nonfiction piece that will feed into my next novel,” Remus rattled off the information like he expected Regulus to find it boring.

“What kind of nonfiction?”

Remus blinked.

“Oh well, I’ve been studying the fisherman on the California coasts, it’ll feed into a thriller.  Basically the research and the nonfiction piece is less for the reader and more for me.  I go a bit wild when it comes to research.  Most of my work is queer-focused, and I like to know my history before I really get into writing something.”

Regulus had decided, by the end of their dinner, that he might like Remus more than he liked Sirius.  When he said as much, Remus laughed, and though Sirius protested, he thought that he was thrilled at the idea.

“Well, Regulus, it’s been so great to meet you,” Remus held out his hand, “I hope we have you here more often.

“I hope so too,” he said sincerely, “I didn’t even get to talk to you about how you convinced him to let you decorate.”

“Oh well,”

“I’ll see you later, Moony,” Sirius’ eyes were misty, reflecting the light of the streetlight above their heads.  Regulus turned away to give them a moment of privacy, staring up the street, lit by fairy lights tangled in the trees.

Sirius knocked into his shoulder, indicating that he could turn around, and he wasted no time,

“Well isn’t he nice,” Regulus batted his lashes at Sirius as they waited for their car, “I’ll see you later, Moony.  So sweet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius waved him away, “Whatever.”

“Do you stare into his eyes like that all the time?” Regulus asked, climbing into the car that had just parked along the curb, “Or was that just for my benefit.”

“Be careful,” Sirius folded his arms, leaning back into the leather of the seat, a blush creeping up his neck, “Or I’ll make sure you never see him again.”

“Already threatened by me, are you?”

“You wish.”

And though they rode back to Sirius’ flat in near silence, Regulus couldn’t help the warm little bubble of happiness that had settled in his chest.

Chapter Text

The flat was dark by the time they arrived, and Regulus couldn’t help the palpable sense of relief that trickled through him as he registered that he could stave off speaking to James for another night.

Yawning hugely, Sirius turned towards him, kicking his shoes off at the door and shoving them under the little shoe rack with his foot.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Probably not,” he looked down at his phone, his eyes moving back and forth at the email from Ernie, “I have a shoot tomorrow morning.”

“Another one?” Regulus smiled at the petulance in his tone, “What’s it for this-”

“Magazine,” he lifted one shoulder, “They’re doing a piece on Caradoc and want me to model the clothes.”

“Fucking golden boy,” Sirius scoffed, but clapped him on the shoulder all the same, “Well whatever, see you when I see you, I guess.”

“It’s like you’re my landlord.”

Sirius turned around, scandalized, but didn’t have time to formulate a response before he was walking back down the hall, chuckling to himself.

The darkness of the bedroom was welcome, and he rested his head against the cool window before he dragged himself towards his bag of skincare and the shower.  He eased the door open, trying not to make too much noise, and was just reaching for the bathroom light switch when,

“Hey,” the voice in his ear made him jump out of his skin.

He spun around, immediately realizing he was far too close to James for comfort.  He could see the slight indent from where the wire frame of his glasses rested on his nose.  Immediately, he backed up two steps, looking up into James’ face, and working to keep his own face smoothly blank.

“Hello,” he said stiffly, “I’m just trying to-”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” James said.  He didn’t look upset, but looked Regulus up and down in a way that he wished he hadn’t seen.

“I’m busy,” he said, still trying to keep his voice politely neutral, “I’m here for work.”

“Come on, you can spare like ten minutes,” he inclined his head back, one side of his mouth curled up in a smile that made Regulus’ heart stutter, “Get a coffee.”

“At this time?” he checked his non-existent watch, “I really need to-”

“In the kitchen” he jerked his thumb behind him, “It’s the best coffee shop in town.”

Regulus wanted to say no, to scoff and roll his eyes and push back into his room, shutting the door with a snap in James’ face.

But he couldn’t.  He couldn’t ignore the little ache in his chest and the stutter in his heart as he looked at him, even as much as he wanted to.

“Fine,” he conceded, turning on his heel and walking silently towards the kitchen, James right on his heels.

Sirius’ kitchen was large, but James only turned on the hanging lights above the island, which seemed softer, not as harsh as the recessed lighting above their heads.

“Watch the master work,” James brushed past him, his hands trailing down Regulus’ forearms.  Ignoring this as best he could, Regulus settled himself on the cool stone counter, watching James collect coffee makings from the pantry.

“Master?  Really?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” James set everything down carefully, making sure not to make too much noise, “You’re about to have the best cup of coffee of your life.”

“You haven’t even asked how I like my coffee.”

James seemed to freeze midway through measuring out the grounds.

“Uhhh,” he looked sheepishly over at Regulus, who couldn’t help the undignified snort of laughter that escaped through his nose.  “Let me-  Give me a second.”

Regulus took the opportunity while James was working on the coffee to really drink him in.

The thin t shirt he was wearing was ripped near the bottom seam, showing many washes and soft fabric stretched across his shoulder blades.  His dark hair was riotously curly, messy in a way that Regulus found shamelessly attractive, and he was hunched forward, measuring carefully, his glasses sliding down his nose.

James seemed to look good no matter what the lighting conditions were.  It was like his skin had a sheen on it, a dewy glow that the California sun and his genes had blessed him with, making everyone around him look pasty and pale in his presence.

And his ass-

“And done,” James stepped back with a flourish, jerking Regulus out of his thoughts, “Just one more second.”

“I’m not getting any younger over here,” Regulus sassed, still trying to burrow a barb into James’ skin.

“And you still look that good while you’re aging,” he grinned at the blush that immediately flooded Regulus’ face, “And anyway, I promised you the best and I’m going to deliver.”

“The best I’ve ever had will be hard to achieve,” he couldn’t help the flirting, it was too easy with James to avoid.

“You haven’t had mine yet, so how can you know?” James winked at him, reaching up into the cabinet above his head for the cinnamon showing a strip of stomach that Regulus couldn’t help but stare at, “And this coffee too.”

Regulus bit his lip to hide the grin that was threatening to split his face.  He knew it was stupid, brazenly flirting like this with James in Sirius’ house.  If he wasn’t careful he’d be out on the street and forced to sleep in LAX until it was time for him to go home.  But James was just so delicious, so irresistible.

“So you met Harry,” James handed the mug of steaming coffee to him, leaning back against the opposite counter.

“Yes,” he took a sip of the scalding liquid, pulling a face at the bitter taste of it, “Decidedly not the best I’ve ever had.”

“Ah well,” James leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, “I wasn’t really talking about the coffee anyway.”

Regulus cursed his pale skin and how easily his blush showed on it.

“So Harry,” he said forcibly, earning a snort from James.

“Yeah,” his eyes did that misty thing that Regulus didn’t appreciate, “He’s amazing right?”

“He is,” he wasn’t going to lie about this, “Just as pushy as you are, I’m afraid.”

“Genetically linked,” she shrugged, downing his own coffee in several large, undignified gulps, “Heard you ate a fruit snack from him.”

Regulus was going to kill Sirius.

“If I’m generously offered something, especially part of a snack, what am I supposed to do?  Refuse?” he said haughtily, like he was above the conversation they were having.

“Oh no I agree,” James had set down his coffee cup and pushed away from the counter, moving closer to him, “I just think it’s sweet that you’re so good with kids.”

“I never said that,” his mouth had gone exceptionally dry, watching James watching him, “I never-”

“I thought you would be,” James was swaying back and forth, shifting his weight from foot to foot, like he was steeling himself to do something crazy, “I don’t know, thought you’d be good with him.”

“You don’t even know me,” he tried to snap, but the bite in his voice came out more like longing.

“I could though,” James needled, shifting forward an inch, two, “You could tell me something about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

Regulus scoffed.  It was such a predictable question, especially from an actor.

This was why he never got involved with actors.

“Bland line of questioning.”

“Everyone has a favorite movie,” he reasoned, “And it’s always a good talking point.”

Regulus chewed the inside of his cheek, working out the best response to that.

“What if I don’t want to tell you?”

James’ eyebrows lifted, so they were nearly lost in his messy hair, and an arrogant, stunning smile spread his lips, raising the temperature in the room by at least three degrees.

“Are you embarrassed by what it is?”

Fuck.  He was so fucked.

“No.”

“You are,” he sounded delighted by this, “Oh come on, you can tell me, I won’t laugh.”

“Yes you will,” he said bitterly, noticing that James was very nearly leaning over him, “Everyone always does.”

“Well, I’m not everyone.”

He should argue with him.  He should back him into a corner and demand to know why he hadn’t spoken to him since their date.  He should care about himself enough to do that.  But all he could think about was how much he liked the feeling he got in his body when he talked to James, how much he liked the way that his blood raced and his skin flushed and his chest ached when he talked to James.

“If it doesn’t matter, then you can tell me yours,” he shot back, playing for time, deciding that he would choose a movie based on his answer.

“Sleepless in Seattle is mine.”

Regulus blinked.

“What?”

“Yeah,” James didn’t look embarrassed in the slightest, “What?  You were expecting Doctor Zhivago?”

“Er,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Yes, actually.”

“Boring,” James laughed, and Regulus could smell the cologne that he wore.  Citrusy, expensive, “Well, not boring, but just because I work in film doesn’t mean I have to have pretentious film taste.”

“You grew up with pretentious film people, though.”

“Oh, so you do know who I am?” James looked even more delighted at this than before, and Regulus cursed himself for his mistake.

“No,” he said stubbornly, breathing in the sweet smell that clung to his skin, that made him want more, “I’m just assuming.”

“Sure,” he winked, like he didn’t believe him for a second, like he could see right through him, “Yeah well, their taste isn’t my taste.  I like a little bit of everything, but that’s my favorite.  Just-  the grief of it, how they find each other over and over without even realizing, missing each other by a second or a glance, and how ultimately it’s about her learning not to settle for what she thinks she should want and it’s about him loving his son more than anything else.  I don’t know, it’s poetic.  Also the Nancy Meyers houses, right?”

“Er,” Regulus said again, rubbing the back of his neck, “Right.”

James gasped so suddenly that he jumped.

“You haven’t seen it?”

“I haven’t seen any movies,” he waved his hand dismissively, even though his stomach was knotted in embarrassment, “It’s a known fact about me.”

“Well we’ll have to watch it,” James said, like it was decided.

“Sure, in my ample spare time,” he tried to sound careless, even though the idea of watching a movie with James, the idea of their thighs pressed together on the sofa, wandering hands and-

“After all the trouble I went to to make you coffee?” James’ smile was light, his face open, but the air simmered between them, just on the edge of coming to a boil.

“You want to watch a movie with me as payment for your subpar coffee?”

“Subpar?” he clutched his heart, “How could you.”

“If you want someone to sunshine pump, you should have asked Sirius,” he realized that James had inched even closer, nearly leaning over him, so that he could count his eyelashes if he wanted to.  He swallowed loudly, loud enough that he knew James had heard, though his expression did not change.

“I can sunshine pump enough for the both of us.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he could feel every breath caught in his throat.  James was so close, so close that he was leaning forward subconsciously, standing up on his tiptoes, and they-

Regulus’ hand shifted on the counter, and he knocked his mug right into the stainless steel sink.

They both froze at the resounding crash that the mug made, somehow not shattering, but rolling around loudly, finally coming to rest after what might as well have been an hour.

Regulus closed his eyes, mortified, even as James let out a snort of laughter.  Even so, the moment was broken, and Regulus ducked out from under James’ arm.

“I have to go, before you wake Sirius up.”

“Me?” James looked delighted, “You were the one-”

“Goodnight,” he turned to go, unable to keep the slight smile off his face.

“Wait,” James called him back, and he turned reluctantly, thinking if he spoke to him for one more minute he would throw him down and fuck him on Sirius’ kitchen floor, “You didn’t tell me what your favorite was.”

Regulus just lifted one shoulder, and turned on his heel, retreating into the safety of his room, and leaving the low laughter of James behind him.

Before he went to sleep, he opened their messages on Instagram, and sent three words before putting his phone on do not disturb and rolling over.

rablack: Pride and Prejudice.

____________

He would have liked for every moment of a trip like this to be fun.  That there was no monotony in magazine shoots, that jet lag never caught up to him, and that he didn’t feel like a paper doll about to be crumpled by the end of the day.

Unfortunately for him, sometimes shoots were just…like that, even when it was a huge opportunity for him.  The size of the opportunity did nothing to lessen the jet lag that was making him feel nearly insane.

“Just a couple more,” Hestia told him bracingly, for what he was sure was the fourth or fifth time, “Caradoc went to pull something else.”

“No problem,” he tried to keep his voice light, but she looked at him, nearly concerned.

“You have crazy eyes.”

“Crazy eyes?” he raised his eyebrows at her, doing everything in his power not to rub his itchy, overtired eyes.

“Don’t worry, not in the photos,” she said soothingly, looking down at her camera, “Well, at least not in the ones I’ll send over to them.”

“Very generous of you,” he snarked, looking apprehensively at Caradoc as he approached with some of his three million assistants.

“Fuck me,” he said, but only so Regulus and Hestia could hear him, “I thought that interviewer was never going to shut the fuck up.”

Catching sight of the expression on Regulus’ face, he clarified.

“Look, I’m grateful they’re doing this piece but Jesus, I’d like to go home at some point in the next century.”

“Car, can we please-” Hestia was looking longingly at the craft services table.

“Yeah,” he scrubbed a hand down his face, looking at tired as Regulus felt, “I’m cancelling that fucking party by the way.  We’ll do the line launch party later.  I’m going home and sleeping for a week.  Anyway, this is it.  Last one.  Finish line.”

“Right,” he let the relief bleed into his words.  He could think of nothing better than going to bed and not moving for twelve hours.  His social battery was thoroughly, completely depleted.

“Come on,” Caradoc clapped him on the shoulder, reminding him of Sirius the night before, “Just a couple more.”

Regulus felt delirious by the time he stumbled through Sirius’ door.  He was so tired that he felt drunk, bracing himself on the wall as he kicked off his shoes, weaving down the hall and letting out a long, pathetic groan that he knew would have made Barty burst into hysterical laughter.

“You okay?” he opened his eyes to Sirius looking up at him from the couch, his head cocked slightly to the side as he took in his disheveled appearance, “You look like you binge drank all day.”

“Do you have any food?” Regulus dragged his feet towards the kitchen, not even caring if James was seeing him like this.

“What kind of food are you looking for?” he could hear Sirius scrambling up from the couch, his feet hitting the floor behind him, “What happened to you?”

“Thirty million looks and no breaks is what happened to me,” he tore open a packet of the fruit snacks Sirius had given Harry the day before with his teeth, throwing the entire contents in his mouth, “I’m starving.”

“We can get you something to eat?” Sirius looked amused, “You don’t have to goblin walk through my kitchen.”

“What’s a goblin walk?” he spun on his heel, nearly toppling over and catching himself on the counter.  Sirius started forward, and Regulus, even in his hazy state, saw James leaning against the doorframe into the kitchen, watching him.

“Walking around eating my food like a goblin,” Sirius said like he was slow on the uptake, “We were going to order something.”

“What are you ordering?”

“Probably tacos,” he shrugged, “But that might be too much flavor for your weak English stomach.”

“I don’t have a weak stomach,” he said, knowing perfectly well that the spiciest thing he could tolerate was pickled jalapeno, and even that was too much sometimes, “You can order for me.”

“I can?” Sirius sounded bewildered, but Regulus was going to succumb to the siren song of Sirius’ soft, inviting couch.  He threw himself down, sighing contentedly as his tired muscles sank into the cushions.

“I didn’t realize a long day would have you acting like you owned the place,” Sirius looked amused, staring down at him sprawled on the couch, “I don’t think I’ve seen you this relaxed…ever.”

“Where are my tacos?” he demanded, not opening his eyes. 

“Damn okay,” he didn’t have to look at him to see the way he was holding up his hands, “We’re going.”

Regulus cracked an eye open, watching them both move towards the door, talking quietly.

“Well I don’t want to drive,” Sirius was complaining, “Traffic is going to be so bad.”

“We could walk there,” James reasoned, his warm baritone filling the space even as he spoke quietly, “It’s not that far.”

“And come back at two in the morning?  Regulus would be eating the drywall.”

“I heard that!”

He heard them both chuckling, and then the click of the front door.  He didn’t move, still feeling the itching in his eyes, and even though he knew a shower would feel like being born again, he just couldn’t manage to drag himself off the couch, which felt like it was absorbing all of his weight, making him feel like he was laying on a cloud.

He dozed, shifting in and out of consciousness, hearing the pipes gurgling in the kitchen, the tick of a clock in an adjacent room down the hall.

It felt like five minutes later that Regulus was jolted awake by the sound of the front door opening, the crinkle of plastic bags, and the cackle of nearly mad laughter issuing from Sirius’ mouth.

“Have you not moved since we left?” he heard his voice, it sounded like he was standing over him, “Are you, like, alive?”

“Yes,” he grumbled, pushing his hair out of his face and staring at the bags in Sirius’ hands, “Which ones are mine?”

“It’s all for everyone,” Sirius thrust the bags into his hands, “I’ll get the drinks, take these into the kitchen.”

James cocked his head slightly to the side as Regulus set everything down on the kitchen island, his eyes dragging down Regulus’ body, so that he felt like his entire face could cook an egg, “You’ll like this place.”

“And how do you know that?” he asked, watching Sirius’ back carefully.

“Come on,” James leaned in again, and the tone of his voice made goosebumps erupt up Regulus’ arms, “I do know you a little bit now.”

“Hardly,” he straightened up as Sirius returned, a bottle of wine in his hands, “A wine drinker now, are you?”

“James’ parents did it to me,” Sirius pointed the end of a wine glass at him, “They gave me expensive taste.”

“You’ve always had expensive taste,” Regulus and James spoke at the same time, then looked at each other in surprise, each of them half laughing.

“This has to stop!” Sirius cried, looking like he wanted to throw himself on the floor, “Everyone is making fun of me!”

“Aw, come on Pads,” James crossed over to him, taking the wine glasses out of his hands, “It’s not a bad thing.”

“This is my side, this is where you’re supposed to be,” Sirius didn’t seem upset.  On the contrary, he was looking at James so fondly that Regulus felt like he had to look away.

“I am on your side, and you would make fun of me at every opportunity too,” he seized one of the tacos and crammed it, whole, into his mouth, “You would think something was wrong if I was too nice to you.”

“I guess that’s true,” Sirius, in his turn, also shoved an entire taco into his mouth, and Regulus watched them in mild disgust.

“Are these really your table manners?” he asked archly, looking down at the mass of aluminum foil in front of him, “I pity your partners.”

He looked sideways at James, seeing if he would react, but he just smiled easily through his mouthful of food, pointing silently at one of the tacos.

“This one?” Regulus tried to interpret his sign language.

“With this sauce,” Sirius’ mouth was still full too, and he rolled his eyes at the exaggerated gagging noise that Regulus made at his manners, “And lime.  And cilantro.”

“Slow down,” he flapped his hands, “You’re rushing me.”

“It’s a taco, not a driving test.”

James snorted with laughter, immediately ducking his head as Regulus looked at him.

He hated to admit it, but it was kind of nice, standing at Sirius’ too-big kitchen island and eating maybe some of the greatest food he had ever had in near silence.  The simmering tension remained between him and James, but it was somehow dulled, muted almost, with Sirius in the room with them.

Regulus felt more at ease, laughing at the stupid way Sirius and James would pick on one another, telling himself it was only because he was overtired and not because they were funny at all.

They migrated to the couch at some point, still talking as Sirius refilled their wine glasses.  Regulus ended up between them, thanking Remus silently for making Sirius purchase such a huge couch, so there was no danger of him and James coming into contact.

“We should watch a movie,” James groaned contentedly as he sat back, a respectable distance from Regulus, “It’s not that late.”

“Says the man who abandoned me two nights ago saying that he needed to ‘turn in early,’ leaving me alone for the rest of the night.”

James shrugged easily, his face not betraying any embarrassment.

“I was tired.”

“Okay, if you’re so energized now, what are we watching?”

James glanced at Regulus for a fraction of a second, before grinning at Sirius.  Evidently, he knew what that grin meant, because he threw back his head.

“Not again.  Don’t you ever get tired of it, Prongs?”

“Nope.  Come on, Padfoot, I haven’t asked in at least six months.”

“Oh you’ve asked, I’ve just always refused,” he said, looking stony, “Regulus doesn’t want to watch-”

“He hasn’t seen it.”

“And how do you know that?”

“He told me.”

“I am right here, you know?” Regulus cut in, more mildly than he normally would have, “We can watch whatever you like, I probably won’t be awake for most of it anyway.”

“See?” James looked thrilled, picking up the closest controller, “Humor me, Pads.”

Regulus fully expected to last a few minutes into Sleepless in Seattle.  His eyes were still burning, and the food had settled pleasantly in his stomach, so that he felt warm, already sinking into the softness of the couch.

So he was surprised at how he was drawn in immediately to the world of the boathouse and a time when there were still call in radio talk shows.

Sirius, who had clearly seen the movie a hundred times over the years, fell asleep before Annie had even written her letter, but his snoring didn’t distract him from the story on the screen.

“Have you seen An Affair to Remember?” James asked quietly, about halfway through.  They had scooted closer together, not quite touching, but close enough to talk without waking Sirius.  Close enough that Regulus could feel the heat of his skin when he moved.

“No,” he turned away from the scene in front of him, “I’m sure that breaks your movie-loving heart.”

James’ smile was genuine, warm.

“That’s okay, it’s a great movie,” he scooted to the side, so that the points of their knees were touching, “We should add it to the list.”

“What list?”

“The list of movies we need to watch.”

Regulus looked at him out of the corners of his eyes.

“You do know I live in London.”

“Yeah, but you can come here sometimes.  And I can go there.”

Regulus desperately wanted to ask ‘for what?’, the words were on the tip of his tongue, climbing up his throat, when Sirius gave a loud, prolonged snore, and they both turned back towards the movie.

Without any warning, Regulus woke up warm, cocooned in a blanket, and with his head resting on something solid.  It was quiet, and the lights in the room were dim, so it took him several minutes to understand where he was and what had happened.  Shifting slightly, he burrowed closer to the warm weight he was leaning on, only to freeze when he felt the warm, solid mass he was leaning on, move.

This couldn’t be happening.

He tried to scoot away, but his head was still muddled and hazy with sleep, and he couldn’t quite manage it.

“Fuck,” he groaned, lifting his head up and rubbing his eyes, “What time is it?”

“Nearly one,” he heard James say above him, “You fell asleep.”

Regulus felt that this was unnecessary to point out, and grumbled into the blanket, feeling James laugh.

“I wish I could’ve seen the end,” he said, “Did they ever meet?”

“I’m not going to tell you that,” he sounded reproving, “We’ll finish it another time.”

“Why not now?”

“Because Sirius is going to asphyxiate if I don’t get him to bed,” he paused, “And you really need to be awake for the ending.  It’s worth it.”

“Fine,” he sat up, pushing his hair out of his face.  James was watching him, and he realized with a jolt, that his arm must have been resting on his back while he slept on his shoulder.

They stared at each other, and James dragged his teeth along his lower lip.  God, Regulus wanted-

“Did I fall asleep?” Sirius’ voice in the semi-darkness made Regulus jump.

“No, you’ve been in a fugue state,” James grinned at him, his teeth flashing white in the low light, “Didn’t think you’d ever come back to us.”

“Fuck you,” he said, groaning as he got to his feet, looking surprised to see Regulus awake, “I would’ve thought you’d be dead to the world by now.”

“I’m about to be,” he stood up too, not looking at James, “Night.”

“Wait,” Sirius called him back, “What’re you doing tomorrow?  Do you still have that party?”

He blinked.  Party?  What party?  He was still thinking about falling asleep against James.  He scrambled to think, feeling two pairs of eyes on him until he finally remembered Caradoc’s words from earlier.

“I think I’m free actually, if you wanted to drag me to touristy stuff.  Caradoc decided to cancel it.”

“Shit, yeah, we’ll figure something out, I’ll drag Moony out too.”

That would be nice, Regulus thought to himself, stretching and hoping that he looked languid and unbothered in front of James’ eyes.

“What about me?”

Regulus’ eyes snapped to him.  James wasn’t looking at him, but rather at Sirius, a fondness in his face that Regulus recognized in the way he would sometimes look at Pandora.

“Can I come out with you?”

Regulus wanted Sirius to say no.

“I guess so, if you bring Harry.  Also, if Regulus doesn’t embarrass me.”

“What-” he started hotly, but Sirius was already moving towards his bedroom, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles like a small child.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then.  Not too early for the love of God.”

Without another word, he disappeared, leaving James and Regulus alone.  They stared at one another for several agonizing seconds before Regulus forced himself to speak,

“Well, goodnight then.”

James’ mouth lifted in a half smile.  Regulus looked away.

“Goodnight, I’ll see you in the morning,” his tone made Regulus feel warm through his chest and up his neck.

“Yes, right,” he said awkwardly, feeling a tightness in his chest that made him want to disappear on the spot, “In the morning, then.”