Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

James Potter was a good man. 

A good son, a good friend, a good father. He was brilliant. He’d done everything right. From the very start, he’d followed the path that was expected of him — attending university, playing footie with the lads, securing a solid future for himself after graduation. He didn’t climb any corporate ladder; instead, he built his own path, opening the fitness studio he’d dreamed of for years. He ran it with the same determination everyone had always admired in him, turning it into one of Brighton’s favourite spots. He got married, had a child, and built a family. There wasn’t a thing that could shake his morals, not a single thing. He wasn’t the sort to let himself be fooled or messed about. He stood firm for what he believed in, always had, always would. James was as straightforward as they came.

He was bloody brilliant. 

And then his best friend introduced him to his younger brother. At almost forty, with a divorce looming and a thirteen-year-old son to think about, James thought he’d seen it all. Life didn’t surprise you at that point, did it? Not anymore. 

But then along came Regulus Black. 

Twenty. Just twenty. Beautiful. So beautiful. Sinful. 

Regulus stepped in. Lean, dark hair falling in soft waves, eyes so pale they were like glass—staring straight at him, through him. And those eyes never left him. 

The age difference was undeniable, something James couldn’t ignore even as it burned at the back of his mind. Twenty. Twenty. James tried to brush it off—he was the one with the life experience, the one who’d seen things, done things. He should know better than to eye-fuck a younger man, especially one who was related to his best friend of years. Yet, standing there in the presence of this young man, all those years between them seemed to vanish. And James found himself wanting.

Sirius was laughing, teasing his younger brother in that way he always did in the phone conversations that sometimes James overheard it. “Thought he’d be busy—probably brushing up on how to act like a human being.”

“Oh, because you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, brother?” Regulus shot back.

“I’m James,” James said, cutting in. 

Regulus’s eyes flickered with curiosity, a slow, deliberate once-over that felt like it lasted hours. “I know. We’ve met before.”

“Not properly,” James insisted, his tone steady. “I’m James Potter.” 

“I know,” Regulus said again. His voice was quiet, almost intimate, and those glass-like eyes didn’t waver. If anything, they lingered, holding James there, rooted to the spot, while a subtle heat crackled in the air between them.

James didn’t quite realise then that those eyes, that unspoken pull, would turn his entire life upside down.

Chapter Text

Moving out of your parents’ house was usually meant to be a sign of growing up. Growing in life, growing in your career — in any case, growing.

Regulus wasn’t so sure that applied when you moved straight from your parents’ house into the guest bedroom of your much older brother. No. Probably didn’t count. Probably, it was a setback of some sort.

“It’s not that big, but I guess it’s enough,” his brother was saying, walking around the room, opening the window, straightening the duvet on the twin size mattress, while Regulus stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching him.

“It’s quite…sensible,” Regulus replied, realising Sirius was waiting for an answer.

The room was definitely smaller than the one he had at Grimmauld Place. 

The walls were painted a soft, muted yellow, and sunlight streamed in through a tall sash window, illuminating the space with an almost irritating cheerfulness. A white curtain billowed slightly in the breeze. Below the window, a bean bag slouched tiredly next to a narrow radiator, like it had long since given up on being sat on properly. A colorful woven rug covered part of the wooden floorboards — bohemian and mismatched. There was a ladder shelf crammed with a confusing mix of childhood relics and adult clutter: a toy sailboat, old books, a stuffed bear, a bottle of cologne. In the center of the room, a large wooden wardrobe stood like a relic from a cottage, trying too hard to look rustic. Against the opposite wall sat a small wooden desk, cluttered with books, and a corkboard hung just above it, half-covered in photos and notes. The twin-sized bed, pushed up against the right wall, was dressed in a yellow and white leaf-patterned duvet

His brother finally stopped moving, resting his hands on his hips as he looked at him. Sometimes, looking at Sirius in his late thirties, he wondered if he’d end up looking like him when he got older. They already looked far too alike, but he often imagined whether the lines on his face would appear in the same places, the same beard speckled with sprinkles of grey.

Having basically twenty-year age gap with your brother wasn’t exactly easy, especially when you added the fact that Sirius had run away from home as a teenager, before Regulus was even born. And family dinners where everyone pretended Sirius wasn’t disowned, some nights when he remembered Sirius staying at Grimmauld Place, secret meetings at Uncle Alphard’s house — it wasn’t the same as growing up with your brother.

They were strangers, and now Regulus lived with him.

“There’s still a few things lying about,” Sirius said. “Teddy’s things, mostly, but we’ll clear them out, yeah? You can decorate however you like, get rid of whatever you want.”

“I hope Teddy won’t mind I'm taking up his space,” Regulus murmured.

“Oh no, he’s actually excited,” Sirius said, with a small smile. “Been going on about Uncle Reggie all week. He’s at the Potters’ now, spent the night there.”

“You didn’t want him to meet me straight away in case I caused a scene?” Regulus couldn’t hold the question back.

Sirius looked at him the way Regulus imagined he looked at Teddy after some bit of mischief. “You already know Teddy. I just wanted the house to be a bit less chaotic for when you got here. Believe me, even at five, they take up a lot of space.”

The house was, as Regulus put it, very sensible. It had just enough space for a family of three without going overboard — well, four now. He’d noticed toys scattered around the house, nothing quite in its place, always something or other left out as they made their way up the stairs to the third floor, where Regulus’s room was.

“You can leave me alone if you want,” Regulus said when his brother didn’t move.

“Remus should be home soon… I’ll put the kettle on,” Sirius sighed, dropping his hands from his hips, looking as though he was trying to relax. “We’ll call you in a bit, alright?”

Regulus just nodded as Sirius walked past him, pausing in the doorway for a moment before heading downstairs, leaving him alone.

He looked around, taking in his new room. The bed was half the size of the one he used to have at Grimmauld Place, and the décor was certainly… brighter. And not just that — Brighton was just…different from London. And to be completely honest, Regulus had never much liked the sea, or the sand, or even the water. He hated the sun on his skin and the feeling of sweat running down his back. But he’d have to get used to it — even more so once he started his master’s at the University of Sussex in September.

It was all probably going to be dreadfully dull, and exhausting in its own way. Regulus already missed London — his friends, his life, the version of himself that made more sense there. Because this… all of this… had absolutely nothing to do with him. It was an entirely different world, one he didn’t belong to. And now, somehow, he was meant to live in it for who knows how long.

There wasn’t a single fucking thing in Brighton that interested him. No buzz, no people worth meeting, not even a half-decent coffee after ten. Just sea air, a family who’d more or less been guilted into taking him in, and a string of forced smiles.

He dropped his bag onto the bed and pulled his phone from his pocket. The call was answered in less than two rings.

“Killed yourself yet, then?” Barty asked.

“No. But when I saw a seagull, I thought I might,” Regulus replied.

“Oh. Not seagulls,” his ex-boyfriend groaned.

“Sirius keeps looking at me like I’m about to lose it any moment now,” he said, sitting down on the bed. He ran his hand over the mattress, searching for some firmness. Yes, he’d have to get used to it.

“Well, you are clinically insane.”

“I’m not clinically insane,” Regulus replied deadpan. “Clinically insane typically refers to—”

“Yeah, you only have Adjustment Disorder,” Barty replied. “You’re just really good at overreacting.”

Regulus smirked. “Fuck off.”

“So, how’s the place then?”

“Awfully cosy, I guess.” 

“Dreadful, obviously. You’ve moved somewhere normal.”

Regulus heard a noise downstairs, then muffled voices. He wasn’t sure how his brother managed to make enough noise from the ground floor for him to hear all the way up on the third floor. But the barking and chatter definitely carried up the stairs.

“I’ve got to go. Pretend to be just as normal as this house.”

Barty chuckled. “Good luck with that. Sounds like your new full-time job.”

He ended the call and slipped his mobile into his pocket before heading downstairs. The house was modest but welcoming—walls painted in soft off-white, with family photos dotted along the hallway and low shelves lined with books in the wide, open-plan living and dining space below. The polished wooden floorboards creaked gently under his feet as he came down from the first floor, past the small landing and into the heart of the home.

At the foot of the stairs, just beyond the open stretch of the living and dining room, Regulus paused beside the hallway. A beam of light filtered in from the bay windows at the front of the house, casting a soft glow over the worn furniture and the line of books stacked along the wall. He took a deep breath and forced a small, tight smile onto his face.

Then, quietly, he stepped into the kitchen at the back of the house.

The kitchen was small but bright, with off-white walls and pale cupboards worn soft around the edges. A grey worktop runs beneath the window, letting in gentle daylight over the stainless steel sink where a few dishes rest on a drying rack. A kettle and three mugs waited on the counter, and the faint scent of tea lingered in the air.

Along the windowsill, was a row of small potted plants, herbs and leafy cuttings in mismatched pots, catching the morning light. A couple of magnets hold family photos on the fridge door, and the clock on the wall ticked softly. 

There was a door at the end of the kitchen that led out to a small patio, adorned with plenty of plants and a cosy table with comfortable colourful chairs.

Remus was standing by that door, the light from outside shining on his back. He was the first to see Regulus and broke into a smile. Sirius, standing just ahead, turned and returned the smile with that familiar twinkle in his eye.

“Regulus,” Remus greeted, passing by Sirius, placing a gentle hand on the small of his back as he approached him. “Good to see you. You look great — so grown up.”

Preparing himself, Regulus gave Remus a quick hug. “Hi. Yes, what — a year, maybe?”

“Teddy was three last time,” Sirius said, “it’s been two years.”

Right. Two years since he’d last seen his brother and his family.

“Well, water under the bridge,” Remus said, his Welsh accent soft on his tongue. “Now we’ve got you twenty-four seven,” he joked.

“Sorry about that,” Regulus quickly replied. “That you ended up stuck with me because Sirius is my brother. I don’t want to be a bother—”

“Regulus. I’m happy about it,” Remus said, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was so tall Regulus had to look up to speak to him. “I wish the circumstances were different, maybe, but happy nonetheless. You’re welcome here.”

“Thank you.” 

“Shall we have some tea then?” Remus smiled, turning to Sirius.

Regulus noticed his brother watching them with a small smile on his face as he was already pouring the tea for them. The amber liquid steamed gently as it filled the delicate china cups, releasing the fragrant, citrusy notes of bergamot that danced lightly in the air. The tea looked perfectly brewed, neither too strong nor too weak, with a golden sheen

As he stepped forward to take his mug, he suddenly felt a warm weight pressing against his leg. Turning, he found a large black dog resting both massive paws on his thighs, looking up at him with deep, glossy eyes full of trust and quiet curiosity.

“Snuffles,” Sirius said with a fond laugh, kneeling down beside the dog. “Down, boy, down.”

The dog obediently settled, tail thumping softly on the floor as Sirius stroked his sleek, shiny coat. Regulus wasn’t much of a dog person — cats were always his preference — but he hesitated only briefly before reaching out to run a tentative hand over Snuffles’s head. The dog leaned into the touch, warm breath tickling Regulus’s fingers.

“We got him when Teddy turned four,” Sirius said, kneeling beside the dog, who happily licked his face.

“Cute.”

“We think he’s a mix of Labrador and Flat-Coated,” Sirius added. “He wears Teddy out, and Teddy wears him out,” he laughed.

“When’s Teddy coming back?” Regulus asked, accepting the cup of tea.

“Tonight, actually,” Remus said quietly, a softness in his voice. “For the welcome dinner.”

Regulus frowned, confusion knitting his brow, and Sirius exchanged a quick glance with Remus, his smile faltering for a moment.

“Didn't mention it to him yet,” Sirius said.

“I thought you were telling him when he got here,” Remus replied.

“Yeah, I—” Sirius began, then hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Well, we wanted to have a dinner tonight for you. Us, and Teddy, of course, and Snuffles,” he chuckled nervously, eyes darting between Regulus and Remus. “And the Potters, yeah. We thought about inviting Dorcas and Marlene as well, but figured that might be a bit too much.”

Regulus noticed how Sirius’s usual confident composure was replaced by a flicker of anxiety, the way his fingers twitched slightly and his jaw tightened  much like when they first arrived and Sirius had been pacing in the room.

“That’s fine. Sure,” Regulus said, nodding slowly as he sipped his tea.

Sirius smiled, almost relieved, and looked at Remus, who returned a small smile while watching his husband. 

“You’re going to love the Potters,” Sirius said. “Impossible not to.”

The thing was, the most important moments in life came when you least expected them. They arrived on an ordinary day, like a quiet Sunday when he was moving into his brother’s house. A calm, uneventful Sunday.

When Sirius mentioned there would be a dinner with the Potters, Regulus didn’t think much of it. Why would he? The Potters were just his brother’s friends — the couple who had been close since school days, the best mate and his wife, the two he’d known since boarding school at eleven. Regulus had known about them for… well, forever.

And James Potter was simply his older brother’s best friend, someone who’d married young, had a child fairly early, and moved into his parents’ house in Brighton after university. Predictable, uneventful, utterly mundane. Boring, boring, and boring.

So there was no reason for him to care that the name Potter might mean anything to his life. He expected a dull dinner, pretending to listen to their conversations, counting the minutes until he could slip back up to his room.

Regulus did not expect to be completely mesmerised by James fucking Potter — nearly forty years old, dark glasses, a touch of grey in his hair, and the sort of presence that made people stare and pretend they weren’t.

He slipped in quietly, and Regulus didn’t pay much attention. Didn’t really care that the guests had arrived. So he didn’t bother to look at him properly. Not at first.nHe already knew them. It wasn’t as if he needed to introduce himself or pretend to be anything to impress them.

“Regulus,” Lily beamed as soon as she stepped through the door. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Thought he’d be busy, you know, probably brushing up on how to act like a human being,” Sirius laughed, instantly more relaxed now that his friends were here than he’d been all day.

“Oh, because you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, brother?” Regulus shot back, quick as ever.

And then, a voice — low, slightly rough — slid into his ears and settled there like it meant to stay.

James was commanding, wanting Regulus to pay attention to him, capturing Regulus’s focus immediately. There was something in the way he moved, so sure of himself, so entirely at ease in the room, as if he belonged everywhere. It was irritating, really. Irritating and impossible to look away from.

“I’m James,” the man said, stepping forward.

Regulus turned to look at him straight away, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he gave him a slow once-over. “I know. We’ve met before.”

James’s brown eyes, just visible behind his dark-rimmed glasses, traced the lines of Regulus’s face with quiet intent. He was wearing a red plaid overshirt, the warm tones setting off the subtle cream of the white shirt beneath. The overshirt was unbuttoned, relaxed, as if he'd tossed it on without much thought. His high-waisted black trousers, pleated and tailored, cinched neatly with a dark leather belt fastened by a circular buckle. The polished brown derby shoes grounded him, steady and sure, as he leaned slightly against the bookshelf. There was a certain calm precision to his look, softened by the gentle disarray of his hair and the understated gleam of the watch at his wrist.

“Not properly,” James said firmly, cutting in. “I’m James Potter.”

And in that moment, he was asking — no, pleading — to be seen.

James Potter was begging for Regulus to notice him.

And he did.

“I know,” Regulus said again, calm and unmoved, but watching him now with a very different kind of interest.

“Uncle Reggie!”

Teddy appeared from behind Lily’s legs and bolted into the house.  He ran straight up to Regulus, but then stopped suddenly, frozen mid-charge as a flicker of shyness settled over his face.

“Hi, Regulus,” came a second voice, slightly deeper, almost teenage, from just behind Teddy. A boy with messy hair, round glasses perched on his nose, and a few spots across his cheeks stepped into view.

“This is Harry, our son,” Lily said warmly. “And of course, you already know little Teddy.”

She turned her gaze back to Regulus expectantly. He blinked, then gave the five-year-old a small smile. 

He felt the pressure of silence settle awkwardly around him — should he say something clever? Make a joke? Kneel down and say something sweet?

“Hi, Teddy,” he said. He thought about cracking a joke or doing something vaguely entertaining, but all he managed was to lift a hand and give the boy an awkward pat on the head — like one might do to a dog.

Fuck. Am I really this bad at social interactions now?

Teddy looked up at him, blinking, not quite sure what to do either. The whole moment hung there, a bit too long, a bit too strange. 

A burst of laughter broke the tension — Sirius, of course, watching him from the doorway with clear amusement. “Right, let’s have some dinner, yeah? Come on, Tedster,” he called, ushering his son inside.

One by one, they made their way into the dining room — Harry stealing curious glances back at him, Lily giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze as she passed, her smile kind. Remus followed, clearly amused, and ruffled Regulus’s hair lightly on his way by.

“So, do you pat all children on the head?”

Regulus turned to find James still lingering in the hallway behind him.

“Well,” Regulus said, raising an eyebrow, “I am clinically insane.”

“No, you’re not,” James replied, smiling — and fuck, that smile. It wasn’t just kind or polite or friendly.

And that look he gave him — it stopped Regulus in his tracks. It was barely seven in the evening on a slow, forgettable Sunday, there was roast in the oven, the children were giggling in the next room and James was looking at him like they were already in bed together.

It was stripped bare. A look full of heat, of hunger. A pull that vibrated between them, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

Regulus felt his lips twitch into a slow, dangerous smile. “Yeah, actually, I prefer ‘creatively unstable.’ Much more fun at parties.”

“Sounds like the start of a very good evening.”

“Careful,” he murmured. “You’re starting to sound like someone who finds me charming.”

James tilted his head, still smiling. “Worse. I think I might find you funny.”

Biting his lower lip, Regulus kept smiling — maybe James didn’t even know what he was doing, maybe he had no idea what he was stirring up inside Regulus.

But he did.

And Regulus burned.

He followed James into the dining room, pausing to lean against the doorframe as James stepped further in. He watched him cross the room to his wife, pull out her chair for her with a kiss to her cheek, then sit beside her, one large hand resting gently over her smaller one.

And then, as he adjusted his chair, James looked back.

Regulus met his gaze, steady.

James held it.

Well. This was going to be interesting.

Chapter Text

Regulus knew that moving into his brother’s house could throw him completely off, so when he finally found himself alone in the morning, he tried to sit in the room and come to terms with just how different it was.

The room, with its pale walls, yellow bedspread and plants, was nothing like what he was used to. And if there was one truth about Regulus, it was that he didn’t handle things he wasn’t accustomed to very well.

His fingers traced the yellow quilt, imagining that he might go buy a new one, perhaps dark green like the one at Grimmauld Place. But then he remembered he didn’t have any money.

When everything had happened, about a month ago, Regulus had just finished his second year at university. After falling out with his parents, he decided to transfer universities. Not long after, he withdrew what he could from his account and paid the admission fee, which covered half of his tuition. He had never had to deal with anything like this before, not even knowing how much tuition in London cost. But before he could pay the rest, his father had locked him out of his own account, leaving him with nothing. He blamed himself for not having paid it all when he could.

He still remembered the family doctor speaking to him in his father’s office. His father sat behind the desk, his mother standing beside him, while the doctor, seated opposite, talked about Regulus as if he weren’t even there.

“Regulus is struggling with adjustment. He shows disturbed emotions and behaviour — acting impulsively, even when he knows the consequences. He is not ‘insane’, but finds it very hard to cope with stress and change.”

It had all been so clinical, a few hours spent with the family doctor, a few more in which the doctor spoke with his parents, and then the conclusion that would change Regulus’s life. 

Because his parents did not decide that he needed therapy. No. They decided it would be better to have him admitted, even if the doctor hadn’t recommended it.

All because Regulus had got caught snapping at a senior partner during one of his father’s business dinners — behaviour that, to them, was unforgivable rather than worrying.

So he told them he was moving out. That didn’t go well. Then he said he was going to live with Sirius, their lost-cause, once perfect first born, which went even worse.

The phone call with Sirius had been interesting. He said he would be moving out of his parents’ house in a few days, which Sirius congratulated him on; and then Regulus explained why. And before he could even ask, Sirius said he had a room for him.

He was learning to cope, to cope with the fact that his parents had cut him off, perhaps permanently. With a new place and new people around him, and it was all almost devastating. If he looked out of the window, there was a bright blue sky and scorching sunshine, and if he leaned his head out he could feel the sea breeze drifting in from not too far away, carrying the smell of the coast. But even so, the devastation inside him was stronger than any positive energy this place seemed to give off.

Brighton was not that far from London. He could still see Evan and Barty, but if they came to visit him, the reality of how abruptly his life had changed would become even more painfully real.

A few months ago, he was still at university in London. He had been a junior analyst in the family company alongside Evan. He had been dating Barty. Now everything had crumbled so fast. He had no place in London, no job, no friends and no boyfriend.

He needed not to spiral. He needed to focus. Not on the quilt colour or the room smaller than what he was used to. He needed not to spiral.

Regulus wasn’t clinically insane; he just had an adjustment disorder. 

And also no fucking money to buy a duvet cover that wasn’t pastel yellow.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Regulus turned to Teddy, hand on the doorknob, peering into the room.

“Meditating.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s when you sit very still and try to calm your mind,” Regulus said.

“Sounds boring.”

“It is. Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“It’s summer holidays, silly.”

“Summer school, then.”

Teddy giggled. “Naaah. But I’m goin’ to Wales! To see Nan and Taid!”

“Sounds boring.”

Teddy giggled again and wandered fully into the room, leaving the door wide open. He did not even try to hide it as he looked properly around Regulus’s things, stopping only when his eyes landed on him.

“You look like Daddy.”

He had been reminded of his resemblance to Sirius since the day he was born. Despite Sirius being the rebel without a cause, the embarrassment, the source of all his parents’ stress, it had always been painfully obvious how much they had wanted Sirius to turn out right. What mattered was that Sirius was the one they had hoped for. The one they had invested in.

Sirius at your age already spoke French fluently.

Sirius at your age was top of his year.

Sirius at your age never struggled like this.

Sirius. Sirius. Sirius.

Their portraits hung side by side in the house, so alike it was impossible to ignore. Not twins, but close enough to make the comparison inevitable. Close enough that he had grown up knowing exactly who he was meant to measure himself against, and exactly how far short he would always fall.

But he could not say any of that to Teddy.

Regulus had never had to deal with a child before. His cousin Narcissa had a son, and even though she cared for him in a way he himself had never been cared for by his own mother, the boy was always surrounded by nannies, never left to roam freely. Teddy, on the other hand, seemed perfectly comfortable going wherever he pleased in the house.

“You look like tiny.”

“Wanna go for ice cream?”

“No ice cream breakfasts, Teddy!” a voice called from somewhere in the corridor.

“But Tad…the holidays!”

Remus appeared in the doorway, arms folded across his pyjama shirt.“Holidays or not, you are not having ice cream before nine in the mornin’.”

“But you said we gotta make Uncle Reggie feel welcome.” Teddy looked up at Regulus again, wide-eyed. “Don’t you feel welcome, Uncle Reggie?”

Regulus gave a small smile. “Maybe I can take you after lunch. How’s that?”

Teddy beamed and looked up at Remus with expectation and his father smiled at him. “Sounds like a proper plan. Can I come in, Regulus?” He almost frowned, but simply nodded, and Remus stepped into the room. “Teddy, have you brushed your teeth?”

“Yep.”

“Teddy.”

“Fineeee.” The boy dragged his feet out of the room.

They stayed silent for a while, until the sound of water from the tap broke the quiet. Remus turned to Regulus, a small smile on his face, like a scar.

“He’s excited,” he said fondly. “If he bothers you too much, let us know.”

“No. It’s fine. It’s his house.”

“It’s yours too now.”

“Right.”

Remus never pushed him. “Well, we know you’ve got that meeting at the university today…”

“Yes. Sirius is taking me.”

“Sirius had to leave earlier for work, and I can’t take you, ‘cause I’ve got an appointment now.”

Something new to get used to and to be honest quite fucking distressing. Remus was a fucking child psychologist.

“Oh, right. I suppose I could book a lift, then.” With what money, he wasn’t sure.

“Nah. You don’t know the city yet, and Sirius wanted to show you round a bit,” Remus said and Regulus was almost tuning it out. “So James is going to take you.”

Regulus snapped his head up. “James?”

“Uhm. He’ll be here in about twenty minutes. Enough time for you to have breakfast, yeah?”

“Yes.”

As Remus left the room, the spiralling thoughts in Regulus’s head slowed, and the attention-seeking smile on James Potter’s face filled his mind completely.

“Morning, mate.”

James appeared with a wide grin, his glasses slipping slightly on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing a light jumper and shorts, and as he fully stepped into the kitchen, the smell of sun and coffee hit him—a detail Regulus noticed almost against his will.

Regulus didn’t move from where he was leaning against the counter, a mug in hand, Remus coming into the kitchen just behind him.

“Good morning, Mr Potter.”

James let out a low laugh, completely at ease, as though it were his own house. Remus was reaching for his mug of tea, barely paying attention to them, but Regulus’s eyes and James’s never quite left each other.

His presence was strange. It was commanding, expansive, the sort that naturally filled a room, the kind that made it obvious people wouldn’t think to mess with him. And yet, somehow, he also seemed easy, almost disarmingly so, with that bright smile on his face that made him come across as approachable, even kind, as if the intimidation and the warmth coexisted without effort.

Regulus tightened his grip on the mug, suddenly too aware of the space between them and how little it would take for him to make it disappear.

“Whenever you’re ready,” James said, watching him sip his tea.

Regulus didn’t reply. He didn’t want to say anything he shouldn’t, didn’t want to make a comment that might be inappropriate in his brother-in-law’s kitchen while the man was focused on answering emails on his phone.

He followed James out of the house and to the car in silence. James trailed behind, looking amused, and as Regulus stepped into the sunlight, the bright coastal light hit him softly, carrying the faint scent of salt.

Letting James do the talking was easy, and as he did, James pointed out various corners of his hometown—where he got pizza on the way to Sirius’s house, where to find the best ice cream in town. 

James was as bright as Brighton itself.

It was irritating.

It didn’t take Regulus long to realise just how annoying James was and annoyingly so, it didn’t make him any less stunning.

Because that was James: a painfully ordinary dad, stuck in a boring town, tied to a boring family, living a life of safe, beige predictability. And yet… absurdly, infuriatingly, ridiculously hot.

He didn’t care much for James’s stories about his son’s first goal or that one summer when Sirius had come to visit and they skinny-dipped at the beach in the middle of the night. But James seemed to love telling them, and even as Regulus watched with his most bored expression, that infuriating smile never left James’s face.

His attention wandered and Regulus found himself distracted by the curve of James’s neck, the way his shirt clung to his skin in the heat, the faint sheen of sweat tracing from behind his ear down across his collarbone. It was barely there, almost imperceptible, but the glint caught Regulus’s eye.

The daydream snapped—Regulus noticed he’d been staring too long. Forcing himself back to the task at hand, he turned quickly to the window and fumbled with the latch as James stopped at the red light.

“Need a hand?” James’s voice was close, teasing. Before Regulus could reply, James leaned over him, brushing just a fraction too close as he reached to give the window a firmer pull. Their bodies pressed near, shoulders almost touching, and Regulus felt an unsteady pulse in his chest.

The handle creaked under James’s strength, and the window finally budged, tilting open with a reluctant groan.

Regulus wasn’t paying attention to the window anymore; his gaze had drifted back to James, their faces dangerously close.

“Why do you even have such an old car?”

James’s eyes sparkled, mischievous. “It’s vintage, Reggie.”

“Old.”

“Classic. It’s a Jaguar XJ, it was my dad’s.”

“Boring.”

The heat between them lingered as Regulus held James’s gaze. James leaned back casually, one arm draped out of the window, the other on the wheel, and resumed driving.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long, Mr Potter,” Regulus said, climbing back into the car.

James turned down the music he’d put on. “You should’ve let me come with you. All went smoothly?”

“Enrollment’s all set, classes start September 23,” Regulus replied. He had learned at a very young age that giving an answer with at least a scrap of information was enough to stop further questioning. If he replied monosyllabically—yes or no—his parents would scrutinise him. But if he offered a very plain answer, with just a hint of detail, they were satisfied. They never asked questions; they never truly cared to know more.

“Exciting, yeah?” James continued. “New university, new people, and to be honest, folks here are far better than the lot in London.”

“Whatever you say, Mr Potter.”

“Why do you call me Mr Potter? Sounds so formal.”

“It is proper.”

“It’s not friendly.”

“We’re not friends.”

“We could be. We could.”

“I’m not friends with people like you.”

“People like me?”

“People I’d fuck,” Regulus said, blunt and deliberate

James went quiet, then let out a breath and a soft laugh. “Funny. You are funny.”

“Possibly my best quality,” Regulus replied, eyes locked on him.

James laughed again and started the car, deliberately taking a longer route back, winding through unfamiliar streets as if he genuinely wanted Regulus to learn the shape of the city. Brighton slipped past the windows in flashes of colour and light: pastel terraces, open stretches of sky, glimpses of the sea at the end of roads. So not London.

When James changed gear, his arm brushed against Regulus’s. Regulus pretended not to notice. When James pointed something out through Regulus’s window and his fingers briefly touched his shoulder, he pretended not to notice that either.

The car hummed beneath them, the engine steady, James relaxed at the wheel, one hand loose, confident. Everything about him felt unguarded, casual, too close. It could have meant a thousand things. It could have meant nothing at all.

But Regulus knew himself well enough to recognise the danger in that space between. The way his thoughts spiralled, the way he latched onto moments and turned them into something more, something heavier than they were ever meant to be.

“Are you liking Padfoot’s place?” James asked. Regulus bit back a comment about the ridiculous nickname and the fact they all seemed to have one for each other.

“I have a twin-size mattress,” Regulus said instead, failing to keep the faint edge of disdain out of his voice.

James smiled, clearly enjoying himself, and barely restrained a laugh. It was impossible to tell whether he genuinely found Regulus amusing or was simply amused by him.

“In my experience,” James said lightly, eyes flicking to Regulus for just a second too long, “a twin-size mattress can be perfectly adequate for two people.”

Flirty.

Unnecessary.

And entirely deliberate.

Regulus turned his gaze back to the window, jaw tightening, his pulse giving him away. “That sounds like something someone without a king-size mattress would say.”

James didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I’ve got experience with those too.”

“You're funny too.”

“I am,” James beamed.

Teddy sat cross-legged on his chair, legs swinging as he spoke far too loudly about ice cream. “And then Uncle Reggie says he doesn’t like ice cream very much!”

“Oh, Regulus never liked desserts, believe it or not,” Sirius told everyone at the table, and laughter filled the room.

Lunch with the Potters’ was loud in a way Regulus still wasn’t used to, he  found himself watching the way the Potters looked at Sirius and Remus. Not just affection. Expectation. Familiarity. Like they had always been there and always would be.

Sirius leaning back too far in his chair, his elbow knocking James’s arm without apology. Remus passing Lily the salt without even looking. James listening to Teddy with that soft, effortless focus. Harry was not there. He was at a friend’s house. And yet they spoke about him so often, so casually, as if his presence were constant, as if he were never really gone at all.

They saw each other all the time. This was not a special occasion. This was just lunch.

The familiarity of it, the ease of habit in that room, made something in Regulus’s chest ache.

After lunch, Lily stood and began stacking plates. “I’ll get these.”

“I can do it,” Regulus heard himself say, already reaching for a dish.

The foreign words felt strange in his mouth. He had never done this before. He had never needed to. Sometimes he followed Kreacher into the kitchen, hovered at the edges, but he had never truly had to work. Never had to help.

Now, living rent free in his brother’s house, he felt the weight of it. The quiet pressure to be useful, to justify his presence.

Back in London, plates disappeared from the table without him ever touching them. Here, he carried them himself, stacking them carefully in the sink.

In the kitchen, the air was warm, sun spilling across the counter. He rinsed a plate, feeling vaguely wrong-footed, when James stepped in beside him, sleeves already rolled up.

“Careful,” James said lightly. “That one’s chipped.”

James’s large hands brushed his as he took the plate from him, the heat of his palm lingering over Regulus’s fingers for a few seconds longer than necessary.

“Thank you, Mr Potter.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“What do you want me to call you?”

James’s smile softened, just for him. “James. At least when it’s just us.”

Regulus closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips, and he brought the tips of his tingling fingers to them.

Everything was just as loud as his mind,Sirius’s laughter a few rooms away, Teddy bouncing on his bed, the dog barking at every sound from outside.

And yet… James Potter. The image of him lingered stubbornly, intrusive, unrelenting. The way his hand had brushed Regulus’s while taking the plate, the warmth of his touch, the way his voice sounded soft but commanding when he spoke to Teddy or even to him—it burned in his mind. 

He paced a little, rubbing his hands over his face, his thoughts spiralling. Why does he have to be so… so impossibly present in his mind? So infuriatingly bright, so frustratingly tangible, even when he isn’t here? Every glance, every smile, every casual brush of skin sent something raw and insistent through him, and he hated that he couldn’t stop it.

Regulus sank onto the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets tightly, trying to ground himself. But the memory of James’s teasing, the casual way he had leaned into him while opening the window, the glint in his eyes, the warmth, but he couldn’t unsee it, couldn’t unsense it. It had lodged inside him, settled like fire in his veins, hot and unwelcome, yet addictive.

The pastel walls still offered no comfort, yet they became oddly familiar at that moment.