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"This is Remus Lupin and James Potter for your post-fencing finals debrief here at the Olympics. As our three medal-winning athletes head to the podium, let's talk about our top champion of the day. This was a beautiful, clean victory for France and Black's first win of the season."
"Indeed, Remus. Black has been incredibly discreet in the media, but I'm not sure he'll be able to keep it that way after his impressive performance today. No wonder France has been keeping him so well-hidden! We barely know anything about him."
"Hopefully our boys on the ground will get a good shot of him as he takes off his mask to receive his medal and-ah, there we go.
And he's a handsome one, of course, what else did you expect from France? - Maybe we can get a comment when he gets off- the-I- The podium....he looks-sweaty, and... French, yes..."
"James?"
"...Yes?"
"I, uh, think we've lost James, everyone. Let's listen to the French national anthem while my colleague hopefully gathers his wits."
Remus turns off the mics and whirls around. "What the fuck, man? Close your mouth."
James looks at him like he's in physical pain. "Why does he look like that?" He asks, almost a whimper.
"Like what?" Remus rolls his eyes and sends a wave James' way.
"Like... like he just got fucked into oblivion and why do I wish I was the one who did it?" The studio falls silent.
Remus checks that they're off the air, again. "Right. I am begging you to stay silent, James. I'll handle this one."
"But-"
"Do NOT. Say. A single thing." James pouts like a child at Remus' scolding words.
"Well, can I look, at least?"
Remus grabs an old Red Bull can and lobs it at James' head.
"Uh, ow?" James complains.
"You fuckin' - whatever. Whatever. Stare to your heart's content it's not me man. Just keep it in your pants." Remus whirls around to the mics and continues to talk about the other "promising athletes" on the podium.
James grins. "That I cannot promise." He whispers, and spins around to face Black's tent. But, Black is not to be found. James frowns at the lonely mask, suit, and sword and sighs a bit. "Remus, where'd Blac-"
He's interrupted by a pounding on the door. Remus looks back a bit, confused, but continues to talk.
James walks over and opens the door, revealing a sweaty Regulus Black. His disheveled hair, and quick outfit make him seem as if he rushed up here. Wearing a black Nike hoodie and tan cargos with green and grey Jordans on his feet, and James just about dies.
He looks ethereal even in plain clothing. An angry expression paints his face as he looks upward to meet James' gaze. "Sweaty French? Really Potter? You're supposed to be a damned commentator, not a matchmaker. Six women have run up to my tent to get a good look at me. I'm gay. See a problem?"
James fixes his thoughts quickly and sends a lazy grin Black's way.
"Only matches I want to make are you and I, Black. So believe me, I'll fix that." He says, winking.
'Confidence? Woah? Where on God's green earth did that come from?'
He nervously watches as Regulus immediately clamps his mouth shut. The tips of his ears turn bright red, and he sends a quick glare and a middle finger James' way. He grabs the door handle from James and slams it shut, quickly walking down the hall he came from.
James sinks down onto his stomach and bangs his head on the ground.
"That, was a mess. You, are a mess." Remus concludes from his chair across the room.
"You know what, fuck you."
Remus smiles.