Chapter 1: A sea of flannel and a desperate need of haircuts
Chapter Text
Oakland, CA - February 1999
The ache in Regulus’ spine will not relent as he drags his trunks out of the airport doors. Two large trunks and a backpack. That’s all he was able to pack to fly clear across the globe. It gave him far too many hours to think about his mother’s words. Her face of rage turned to shame turned to cold silence once she told him to leave her house.
She gave him one phone call. He could have called his friends, or his uncle, but when his fingers started pressing the buttons of his home phone it was an international number he dialed instead. Might as well leave Walburga with one final international call charge.
Sirius left home three years ago for the exact same reason Regulus leaves now. Being gay and in the Black family simply doesn’t mix. Walburga Black made that clear when she’d sent Sirius packing on his twentieth birthday. At least Regulus made it to twenty-one before being disowned. Regulus really thought she’d react differently. That maybe his own confession of his sexuality would change her mind. That she wouldn’t be willing to lose two sons over something neither of them can control.
He should have known. That she is not the type of woman to change her mind. That she’d lose everything before looking inside and asking herself if there are things she might be wrong about.
So here he is, in a small, strange airport in California. Waiting on a curb for a brother he speaks to only in letters and a phone call every six months because of the cost of long-distance calls.
Sirius pulls up in a rusted yellow VW bug. It’s ugly, and small. He honks the horn twice as he pulls up to the curb. Regulus wedges his bags into the back seat and almost runs around the front of the car before remembering that they drive on the wrong side of the roads here.
When Sirius pulls onto the motorway, heading toward Berkeley, Regulus finally has a chance to assess his brother. The differences, and the similarities. He’s still him. Tall-ish, almost black hair that is far longer than when he left. He has it tied up in a bun for Christ’s sake. He sports a leather jacket and trousers that would make their mother shriek in anger.
Sirius points out landmarks on the way. The Oakland Coliseum where people pay actual money to watch baseball, the unarguably most boring sport in existence. He points out the Bay Bridge and the Golden Gate across the water. Seeing where Sirius has been living the past three years feels like Regulus is driving through a movie set - everything feels surreal, like it doesn’t belong to his life.
When they arrive in the neighborhood Sirius lives in, he pulls onto a busy street called Telegraph Avenue. Regulus’ mouth falls agape at the sea of people around him in flannels, tie-dye, overalls and t-shirts of bands he’s never heard of. Every single person he sees desperately needs a haircut. It’s all shag and waves and tangled messes. It smells like incense and weed when Sirius rolls down the window all the way to toss a cigarette into the street. It reminds Regulus of a junkyard. There is stuff everywhere.
What is this place?
Sirius pulls onto a side street and finds parking on a slightly quieter but equally dirty looking block. Regulus is exhausted. He’s never been good at sleeping on planes. And the anticipation of seeing his brother for the first time in three years kept his mind wired nearly the entire flight.
Sirius takes one of his bags and starts to drag it up a flight of stairs in between two walls barely wide enough to fit them. Regulus is winded by the time they get to the top of the stairs, taking a left into one of only two flats in this unit.
When he walks through the red door, Sirius has already abandoned Regulus’ bag in the tiny entry area, walking directly into the arms of a tall sandy-haired boy who’s smoking a cigarette out of the window by the kitchen. He has some intense scarring on his face and hands that give him a bit of a roguish charm. Must be the boyfriend Sirius mentioned.
Regulus strolls over to them slowly, leaving his other bag by the door and throwing his backpack onto an old couch that he supposes he’s going to be sleeping on for the foreseeable future.
Sirius kisses the boy’s lips and takes his cigarette into his own hand. “Remus, this is my famous little brother, Regulus Arcturus Black.”
Remus extends a hand to Regulus, his oversized knit sweater covering half of his fingers. Regulus shakes it awkwardly. “Great to finally meet the mysterious brother.”
Regulus is saved from having to make idle small talk when the front door swings open again. A short blonde boy walks through carrying a coffee holder and a brown bag. “I brought food! And coffee!”
Sirius jumps over to him, snagging two coffees and bringing one to Remus. The boy sets the rest down at their small round table that is tucked between the kitchen and living space. “Oh! Hello! You must be Regulus.” He wipes his hand on his pants and extends his hand as well.
At least they’re all polite. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
Finally, the last roommate saunters in from the hall that holds the door to all three bedrooms and one small bathroom they apparently will all have to share.
“Did I hear there was coffee?”
The last roommate is tall. Really tall. Buff with dark skin. He’s the only one who seems to understand what a haircut is. The white shirt he has on is just a bit sheer from too many washes, hugging every obvious muscle on him as he takes the last coffee from the holder and takes a long sip. He’s like a fucking statue that someone carved with meticulous detailing of every curve. Jesus.
Regulus waits for the last introduction. The last handshake of who he’ll be living with. Instead, the last roommate just eyes him up and down as he continues taking sips of his beverage. His eyes linger on Regulus for a few seconds longer than polite. He furrows his brows a little before making quick eye contact with Sirius and turning in place.
He walks back down the hall without a word.
Rude.
Sirius throws an arm around Regulus and leads him into the sitting room. Or living room, he supposes in America.
“That’s James, by the way.”
Regulus nods at collecting the last name of the boy who decided Regulus wasn’t worth speaking to. Sirius sits on the edge of an orange armchair while Regulus tests out the softness of his new sofa slash bed situation. It’s surprisingly soft. And definitely big enough for him.
Remus strolls in, Peter in tow, with a bottle of champagne that looks like it was two dollars or less. Sirius claps his hands before taking a couple of the mismatched glasses from Peter and setting them on the coffee table.
As Remus pours them four cups of the bright yellow bubbly, Sirius stands.
“Welcome to the Bay Area, Reggie. You’re going to love it here. Great place for the wandering gay, trust me.” Sirius clinks his glass to Regulus’.
Remus clinks his glass next. “We hope you love it here. If you love cheap pizza, loud music and weed, you’re all set.”
Regulus cringes internally, not a fan of any of the items Remus listed.
Peter clinks his glass last. “We’ll make sure you feel right at home.”
As they all take a drink of the poisonously sweet drink, Regulus’ eyes fall to the hallway beside the kitchen, wondering why the fourth roommate doesn’t feel the need to join his welcome party.
Chapter 2: Anything for a dollar when the rent is due
Summary:
Regulus gets a job alongside his new enemy
Notes:
CW: Mention of sex, mention of hard drug use
Chapter Text
Berkeley, CA - March 1999
It’s been three weeks of knocking on doors and answering fliers and trying desperately to find a job. Sirius told him not to stress. They’re not struggling to make rent. That much. He told Regulus to take his time.
But he can’t. He refuses to be worthless. To not pull his weight. So every day he’s out in the street, trying to find someone who will hire a twenty-one year old who just graduated from a college they’ve never heard of in London while living at home all four years, only to be kicked to the curb five months later with no real job experience.
Remus pats Regulus on the shoulder as they walk. “Keep your head-up, Regulus. We’ll find you something I promise.”
Remus has been so kind since he arrived. Helping him acclimate to American culture. Including him in meals he makes for Sirius. Lending him books since he had no space to bring his own. His one great flaw is his taste in music. His mix of CDs and vinyl consist of the loudest, most aggressive sounds he’s ever heard. He rants and raves about a band literally called Rage Against the Machine. No one possibly needs to be that angry.
“He’s right, Reggie. We’ll find you a gig. Or we can always see if there’s an opening at the brothels down in Oakland. The closeted businessmen would just love you.”
Regulus rolls his eyes as they step through the glass door to Amoeba, the record shop about a ten-minute walk from their flat. Their apartment. Peter is already there, perusing through the rock sections for discount vinyl and CDs. They all wave on their way to the front desk.
James comes out from the backroom, wearing a plain black t-shirt under jean overalls. He’s wearing glasses today. He seems to only do this when he has to work, from what Regulus has observed. Sirius leans against the counter and starts whispering something to James. Regulus awkwardly massages the back of his neck until Remus pulls at his sleeve and drags him over to Peter.
They flip through CDs and albums for a while. The music playing over the surround speakers is deafening. Some pop-song he thinks he heard on the radio earlier in the week. He’s already clocked that when pop songs are playing, the manager Marlene is somewhere in the store. When it’s just James and the other cashier, it’s usually something slightly more aggressive. Alice in Chains or The Flaming Lips. Not as horrible as Remus or Sirius’ taste. But still not soft enough for Regulus.
Regulus sighs when the mindless flipping starts to bore him. “Is he like that to everyone?”
Remus and Peter make secretive eyes toward where James and Sirius are still lost in conversation.
Peter pats Regulus on the shoulder twice. “He’s not usually like this, honestly. He’s a good guy. A bit of a floozy, but we love him. He’ll warm up to you, I promise.”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “Doubt it.”
Remus pulls out a vinyl that looks like someone covered it in blood. “Peter’s right. He’ll come around. Maybe he’s just not used to having to share Sirius. The two are practically attached at the hip.”
“Aren’t you Sirius’ boyfriend?”
Remus chuckles as he tucks the bloody vinyl under his arm. “I am. But when we’re out together you’d be shocked how many people think those two are an item instead, the way they stick to each other’s sides.”
Regulus tries not to stare, but the way Sirius and James lean into each other while they talk, the smiles and the laughing, the easy and open body language James clearly has when he talks to anyone but Regulus, not that he talks to him at all, confuses him. What is it about him that is so off-putting to James?
When they arrive back at their place, James makes the shocking decision to stay in the living room while they all have a beer. He’s downright jovial when he’s making conversation with his mates. He asks thoughtful questions. He’s supportive when Remus talks about how difficult his graduate program at the University down the road has become this year. He consoles Peter about the last bloke who blew him off after an apparent snogging session at a party. By all standards, he seems kind and generous.
But he asks Regulus nothing. He barely even glances at him. Regulus resigns himself to doing that same thing - being involved and himself with those who are willing to engage with him, and leaving James to whatever grudge he holds against Regulus for simply existing in their home.
“How’s the job search going, Regulus?” Peter is sitting on the ground with his beer, looking at him with gentle blue eyes.
Sirius clears his throat, turning all the heads in the room towards him. “About that. I actually think I have something for you, Reggie.”
Regulus takes a sip of his own beer, waiting for his brother to continue. He feels a small flame of hope start to kindle in his chest at the prospect of having some income. Of being able to contribute to their rent and their groceries and buy his own drinks at a bar.
“I spoke with Marlene at Amoeba today. The little blonde manager. Their other cashier is leaving for the City at the end of the week. Transferring to the San Francisco location. It took a bit of convincing, but she said she’d give you a chance.”
Regulus swears he sees James avert his eyes, moving them to stare out the small window that looks over Telegraph Avenue.
Regulus resists rolling his eyes at being ignored. What the fuck is this guy’s problem? But it doesn’t matter. He’s desperate. He’ll take anything for a little cash. Even if it means getting the cold shoulder everyday from a guy who clearly finds himself above Regulus. To the point that he’s not worth a glance or one single supportive word of encouragement.
“Thanks, Sirius. That would be amazing.”
James lets his eyes slip momentary to their corners. A tiny nearly imperceivable curl forms on one side of this mouth. It’s so quick - but Regulus catches it, and wonders why he doesn’t just welcome him to Amoeba like a normal fucking person.
Remus and Peter make small cheers as Sirius discusses his starting date and salary that she offered. He tries to give Regulus a bullet-point list of what music is currently popular, but there’s too many artists. Too many weird, fucked-up names that make no sense.
A knock on the door quiets the room. They all look toward the front door, but only James moves to stand and walk toward it.
From where Regulus sits on his couch or bed depending on the time of day, he can see a tall, slim, handsome man walk into the tiny entryway. He kisses James on the cheek after closing the door behind him.
“Hi all,” the stranger says as he takes a tiny step into the living space. “I’m Trevor.”
They all grumble hellos and wave awkwardly as James pulls Trevor’s arm toward the hall and into his room. As James’ door clicks shut, Regulus turns his attention back to their little circle to see Remus shaking his head.
“That another new one?”
Sirius pulls Remus into his body, laughing a bit. “Never seen him before in my life. Maybe a customer?”
Peter scoots up so he’s closer to the group, half whispering. “I think that’s the guy from that horrible frat party James dragged us to a couple weeks ago. The one who asked if we wanted to do cocaine in his room with him.”
Regulus quirks an eyebrow at how casually drugs get discussed here.
Sirius clears his throat. “Which I, of course, totally said no to.”
Remus rolls his eyes. “Sure you did, love.”
They both start laughing while Sirius kisses Remus’ cheeks, lips, neck. Regulus doesn’t mean to stare. But it aches a bit, watching his brother love so freely. Sirius left their sullen home, to this place that consistently smells of weed and unwashed hair and cigarettes and greasy pizza. But he found something so tender that Regulus has craved his entire life. Something that gnawed at his bones for so long that he finally had to pull the rug out from under his mother’s expectations of him and attempt to find it somewhere in the world for himself. God he wants that.
Peter gets up from the floor and throws a CD in. Regulus at least can tolerate Peter’s music taste as Sugar Ray starts to play over the stereo. It’s simple and nice. And not assaulting to his ears.
Peter looks at Regulus as he turns the knob up till he has to yell a bit over the sound. “Trust me, you’re not going to want to hear what James is doing behind that door.”
Regulus forces his face to stay forward. To not stare down the hall and think about what James is doing with a near-stranger in his bed. Because he doesn’t care. Because he hates the bloke, and James apparently hates Regulus right back.
Chapter 3: Let it linger
Summary:
Is there hope for James and Regulus to finally get along?
Chapter Text
Regulus’ first few shifts of training were fine. The systems aren't difficult. The hours are acceptable. The lack of commute is ideal, being only ten blocks from their front door. It’s the God forsaken music James and Marlene insisted on blasting over the stereo that had already started to grate on him.
To no surprise, James had been cold through his explanations of how the store operated. The manager on the other hand was great. Marlene enthusiastically showed Regulus where they kept all the rare and special vinyl. She offered Regulus tips about how to tell which customers were likely to be looking for Green Day or Sheryl Crow or Alanis Morrissette.
But James stuck to the facts. No banter, no jokes, no secret intel. Whatever.
By the fifth day of working at the record store, Regulus has had quite enough. While James is busy flirting his way into a sale, Regulus sneaks back to the stereo and presses eject. He searches through the CDs that they kept in the back and pulls one of his favorites out of the shelf. He pops it in, and presses play. Finally allowing himself a much-needed break to his eardrums.
“The Cranberries, huh?”
Regulus turns around from the stereo to find James leaning down onto his elbows across the front counter.
Regulus keeps his face neutral as he leans against the back counter. “Yes.”
James makes a low humming noise and nods. “Dolores is an icon.”
Regulus almost smiles. It’s the first almost kind thing James has said to him. And he agrees - the woman knows how to capture longing and pain and hope all in one song. She gets Regulus in a way few people in his real life have.
“I take it you’ve hated the music we’ve been playing?”
Regulus presses his lips together. Despite their quiet rivalry, dancing around each other like they don’t exist, it’s not in his nature to be rude or curt. So he shakes his head a bit. “It’s just a little aggressive for me.”
James nods and pushes off the counter, heading back into the rows of shelves. He stops just before he’s out of earshot and stares Regulus down from the middle of the room. “Good to know. So, what do you like, then?”
Regulus lists off a few of his favorite albums and songs, and for the first time since they met, James listens intently, nodding his head now and then.
“So you like love songs?”
Regulus considers James' assessment, fishing through his mind for the lyrics to some of his favorite songs. Regulus hadn’t thought much about it, but he supposes he does like love songs.
“I suppose.”
The rest of their shift is the easiest Regulus has felt since he started the job. Marlene takes off at 4:00, as she always does. James and Regulus stay till 8:00, restocking shelves and helping customers. James sneaks out back now and then to smoke a joint. He even asks Regulus to join him once, but Regulus declines. He’s never smoked weed before. He certainly doesn’t want his first time to be on the clock.
James lets Regulus continue selecting the CDs they pop-in through the evening without resistance. When they finally lock the front door right as the clock hits 8:00. Regulus starts perusing for a last album to play while they get ready to clean before heading out for the night.
James approaches him from behind and starts thumbing through the plastic cases beside him. “Mind if I play one now?”
Regulus looks at him from the corner of his eyes and stops rummaging through the stacks. “Go ahead.”
James pulls out a case and opens it. He pops in a CD, while Regulus moves for the broom.
As he starts to sweep the front of the shop, Oasis starts to play over the speakers at a perfectly reasonable volume. Don’t Go Away begins, and Regulus can’t help the smile that starts to form on his lips as one of his favorite songs starts to echo off the walls. He keeps his back turned toward James, so he can’t see the pleased flush that he’s sure is forming in his cheeks.
When they step out onto the street, hordes of college students are flooding the sidewalks. James re-locks the door, and Regulus stands before him, waiting to see if he plans to walk the ten blocks back to their apartment.
James stuffs both of his hands in his pockets with a wry smile on his face. “I’ve got plans to meet someone on campus. You heading home?”
Regulus tries to be casual. To let a half smile slip onto his lips so he doesn’t let this tiny step forward they’ve made go to waste. “Yeah, think so.”
James rocks back and forth on his feet. “See you later, then.”
Regulus averts his eyes, because James seems to be staring at him, waiting for him to conclude this strange cease-fire. “See you later.”
Regulus watches James pass by his shoulder and head toward the university. He stares at his back for half a block before taking a big breath in, and turning toward the apartment. As he dodges groups of students back toward their place, he feels a small piece of his animosity toward James start to blur into something different. Maybe there is hope for them, yet.
Chapter Text
Berkeley, CA - April 1999
Sirius steps out of his bedroom head to toe in leather. The jacket, the knees of his pants, his boots. All black and reflective and tight. His hair is down. He really needs a haircut. Remus wears a sweater that looks like it belongs to their grandfather back in London. Peter sports a white t-shirt and a flannel tied around his waist. The only sensible outfit for a concert of the three of them. James steps out into the hall in a neon windbreaker over a black shirt.
He looks a bit radiant, with his hair still damp from his shower and a fresh spritz of cologne wafting off of him. Regulus feels plain beside the four of them, in a black t-shirt and jeans. But he’ll have to make do. He was only able to stuff a quarter of his wardrobe into his trunks, and he left most of his more opulent pieces in his old closet based on Sirius’ description of Berkeley.
They all wander toward the bus, passing a water bottle full of wine back and forth as the sun sets over the street. Regulus drops some change into the meter and follows their little pack to the back of the bus.
Sirius drops into Remus’ lap while Regulus takes a seat alone across from Peter and James. He watches the campus turn to green fields full of students lounging on blankets, then to taller brick buildings, and finally to a smaller street bustling with young people in outfits far too similar to his brother’s. When he hops off the bus, he accidentally slams into James’ back.
“ Blimey! Fuck, sorry.” Regulus flattens his shirt as he takes a step to the side.
James smirks down at him with a tiny sparkle in his eye. “British slang is so cute, innit? ”
Regulus rolls his eyes at James’ attempt to mock his accent and jogs to catch-up to the rest of the group, leaving James alone behind them.
They walk up to a small brick building with a red neon sign that reads ‘924 Gilman’. Sirius and James walk straight to the front of the line and hug the security guard, who unhooks the velvet divider and lets them all walk through without paying as the crowd they’ve just cut grumbles behind them.
The walls inside are littered with graffiti. Names and words he doesn’t understand. Outlines of bridges and crowns and paint that dripped as the artist claimed their space. There’s no band playing yet, but the place is packed. They have to weave through bodies to get to the bar.
Sirius has to shout over the voices of the crowd around them. “Beer, Reggie?”
Regulus nods his head and watches the bartender hand Sirius two large pitches of beer. He hands one to Remus as they all continue on toward a small table near the bar. Six seats, and enough space for them to breathe in the midst of the sweat and the leather and the smokey air.
As the opening band takes the stage, Sirius nearly begs Remus to go to the front with him. He can tell Remus is resistant, but it barely lasts a minute before he’s shaking his head and following Sirius toward the front of the stage.
“Do you want to go into the pit?” Peter starts to stand, looking between James and Regulus for a response.
Regulus has less than zero interest in getting pushed around by hundreds of bodies. “I think I’ll watch from here.”
James looks at Peter then briefly to Regulus. “I’m going to wait for the main act.”
Regulus is surprised that James is electing to sit with him in a corner rather than join his mates on the floor. He seems like the type of person who’d be right in the middle of the action, whatever that action may be. But Regulus is silently grateful that he won’t be left alone, even if it’s James he gets stuck with.
Peter shrugs and starts maneuvering through the crowd.
Regulus takes a long sip of beer, letting the cold liquid cool him from the heat and smoke threatening to suffocate him.
“Ever been to a punk show?”
Regulus snaps his neck toward James, alarmed by the gesture of conversation. “Never.”
James chuckles a bit. Regulus can’t hear the sound of his laugh over the music, but the way his eyes turn to half-moons and his dimples start to peek through is quite a sight. “They’re not really my thing. Even I have a line with aggressive guitar. But Sirius fucking loves them.”
Regulus shrugs. He’s not even sure what constitutes punk music, but as far as he can tell it’s more yelling than singing and an excuse to shove the person at your side.
James scoots over in the booth so he doesn’t have to shout quite so loud. “How are you liking the states? Honestly?”
Regulus can feel heat coming off of James, with only a tiny bit of space from where their legs are hidden beneath the table.
He swallows and turns his attention toward James. “It’s okay. It’s a bit odd. Sometimes people say something and I genuinely wonder if we’re speaking a different language.”
James laughs again, nodding in agreement. “The Bay Area is very slang-forward. I’m from Los Angeles, which isn’t much better I guess. I met Remus at Cal our freshman year. That’s what we call the university. We met Sirius and Peter at a show a few years ago. All decided to move in together a year after that. It’s been great. I’ve never met anyone like Sirius before.”
This is the most words James has ever spoken to Regulus in succession. He briefly wonders if he’s done it. If he’s cracked through James’ armor and found his way to that sunny, bright person everyone claims he is.
Regulus starts to open his mouth to respond when he notices James’ attention has been caught by the bar. A fit Black man in a tight white tank top is beckoning James over to the bar. He has a flirtatious smile on his face as he waves James down.
James starts to scoot out of the booth before Regulus can reply to their first real conversation.
“See you in there,” James throws behind him as he walks over to the bar.
Regulus refills his glass and tries to be covert as he witnesses yet another stranger hand James a drink by the bar. He can feel his skin crawl with annoyance as the guy leans into James’ ear and whispers something that makes James smile ear to ear. The sudden brush-off makes his chest constrict with anger. He really thought they were getting somewhere.
He suffers through the opening set, which is really just noise, not music. As the last song starts to wrap-up, he craves air that isn’t hung with cigarette and weed smoke. He chugs the last of his drink and jets toward the door before the crowd can block his path.
He finds Remus already there, alone with a fresh cigarette in his mouth. He walks over and Remus acknowledges him with a nod before instinctively handing his pack over to Regulus, offering him a smoke.
Regulus eyes it for a moment. Cigarettes aren’t really his thing, but he indulges now and then, when the occasion strikes. And an occasion has definitely struck.
Just as Remus reaches up to light the end of his cigarette, they both catch Peter running out the door, dragging a small tan guy in another flannel behind him. They watch as they make their way out of the lights from the venue and into the shadow of the street. Even in the shadows, they can see as the mystery boy pushes Peter against a wall and starts to kiss him in the darkness.
Regulus and Remus make brief, wordless eye contact before both devolving into a fit of laughter. It lifts a weight from Regulus’ chest - to laugh. He realizes he hasn’t done this since he landed here. Laughed at something that was truly funny. It helps his guard start to weaken, to know that it’s possible to enjoy himself here, even if it’s brief.
Remus stomps his cigarettes out, and Regulus follows suit despite only being halfway through. “Shall we head back in?”
Regulus groans a bit. “I’m not sure it’s really my scene.”
Remus narrows his eyes. “It’s not my favorite band, but stick with me. We’ll make it fun.”
Regulus sighs and throws his head back. Remus puts a hand on his back and leads him back inside. The headlining band has already started when they reenter. They stop by the bar for a refill. Their heads move in tandem as they scan the crowd, searching for Sirius or James. They spot Sirius immediately, leading the charge of a mosh pit opening up in the middle of the floor.
Remus’ lip curls into a smile that drips of affection and desire. “He’s really something, isn’t he?”
Regulus watches Sirius for a moment as he pushes a body off of his with a full grin on his face. “He’s Sirius,” Regulus replies, which draws a sarcastic side-eye from Remus.
Regulus continues scanning the room, toward their abandoned table. James is back, sitting in the booth with the tank top guy under his arm. James is whispering to him, tucked into his neck. The moment James leans his head back a bit, Regulus feels his brows furrow. The two start running their hands all over each other, lips locked, eyes closed.
Gross.
Remus spots what holds Regulus attention and bumps into his shoulder. “Might as well get used to that. James never brings the same guy home twice. It’s kind of his thing.”
Regulus downs the rest of his drink before turning around to order another. This is torture.
Halfway through the show, Regulus realizes he hasn’t used the loo since they arrived despite the four, maybe five beers he’s drunk. The need is sudden. He turns around and finds the signs for the restrooms. He nearly sprints through the doors.
As he’s washing his hands, the door swings open, letting the sharp guitar and heavy drums come through the barrier briefly. James steps up to the sink next to him and splashes water into his face. Some of the water drips onto his shirt, which is already half damp with sweat.
“Hey,” James says casually as he turns to lean against the sink. “Having fun?”
Regulus stares at the back of his head through the mirror before turning toward him. “Sure. I guess.”
James narrows his eyes. “You’re a bit of a downer, aren’t you?”
Regulus feels struck by the comment. His chest tightens a bit. “Excuse me?”
James grabs a towel from the dispenser and wipes his face off. “I just mean, you don’t really like parties.”
Regulus scoffs. “This isn't a party. This is a loud concert where people purposely knock into each other to the tune of loud noises.”
James takes a step toward Regulus with a curious look in his eyes. “So, what is your scene, then?”
Regulus resists taking a step back, not wanting to show any weakness. “Music with a melody? Being able to hear people talk without screaming? Is that so fucking strange?”
James nods his head, staring down at Regulus from being so close and a few inches taller. His eyes shift to Regulus’ chest. Regulus looks down just as James lifts his hand to swipe a tiny bit of ash that had fallen on his shirt. James’ fingers linger for just a second once the last of the white smudge disappears.
“Well, I have to get back out there.”
Regulus raises his eyebrows and lets his eyes avert back to the mirror. “Have fun.”
James pauses at the door and turns back toward Regulus. “I always do.” He shoots Regulus a wink to seal the deal; that James has one single focus. Getting back to the next guy he can get in his bed.
Fucking stupid.
Chapter Text
Sirius has danced around the topic of what finally drove Regulus to join him in California since he landed. Sirius got the basics - Regulus finally came out. Walburga did what she always does. Made him feel small and disappointing, making it all too clear that she should have never had children.
It’s a rare night that Sirius and Regulus have the house to themselves. Peter has been staying at John’s every other night in the City since they met at Gilman. Remus has a graduate program social. James is God knows where. Probably with a date.
Sirius hands Regulus a beer before he climbs out to the metal fire escape that looks over the street. Regulus climbs through, and they tuck against the cold metal barrier. Sirius lights a cigarette, and Regulus denies his offer for his own.
“Has mum tried to, you know, get in contact at all?”
Regulus rests his head against the rails, looking up at the fog rolling overhead. “No,” he responds. “Not a letter. Not a call. Nothing.”
Sirius huffs a sarcastic laugh from beside him. “She’s such a twat.”
Regulus lets his own crazed form of a laugh escape from his chest. “Cheers,” Regulus says as they clink the bottles against each other.
A jolt of surprise rockets through Regulus as Sirius lays a hand on his knee. “I’m glad you’re here.”
There's shy smile on Sirius' face, as if he's unsure of the protocol for a serious conversation between the two of them. He seems to be a touchy person with his mates, but it’s been nearly a decade since the two of them touched each other with any ease. Regulus was the obedient one, always hiding in the shadows while Sirius was yelled at for his antics. They were close once, when they were small. But the older they got, the more they grew apart. Until Sirius didn’t just leave the house, but left the entire Goddamn country and never looked back.
“I’m glad I’m here too. It’s been great, mostly.” Regulus sighs. Great besides one glaring issue.
“Something you need to share with the class?”
Regulus lets his head fall to the side. “It’s been a bit difficult. Living with James. I know he’s your best mate, but Jesus, he seems to hate me and I have no idea why.”
A strange, startled look crosses Sirius' face. Regulus can’t place it, and in the blink of an eye it’s gone. “He doesn’t hate you, Reggie.”
“Could have fooled me.”
Something like guilt plagues Sirius’ eyes again, but he doesn’t give Regulus time to press. Sirius stands, drinking the last sips of his beer. “It’s getting cold. Let’s head in. Have to meet Remus when his party ends.”
Regulus stands and watches Sirius climb through the window. Something about their conversation felt off. But Regulus cannot for the life of him guess at why his brother was giving him such a strange look.
It's the hangover that wakes Regulus the next morning. A splitting headache behind his eyes and a dry throat that could kill. They stayed out way too late with Remus’ colleagues. They talked about philosophy nearly the entire time. Too many smart people crammed into a wine bar.
He blinks away the blur in his eyes to a body hovering over him, standing with a tall to-go coffee in his hand.
“Morning.” James towers over his makeshift bed, staring at him.
Regulus wishes immediately he had a shirt on. He moves for the blanket to cover himself, trying not to make it too obvious he’s shy with his body.
“What do you want?”
James half smiles before lowering himself to the edge of the couch by Regulus’ feet. He hands Regulus the coffee. “This is an apology coffee. Sirius may have mentioned I was not being a welcoming host.”
Regulus takes the cup hesitantly as he sits up, letting the blanket fall again to expose his bare torso. Suspicious.
“Look,” James says as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m heading out of town for the weekend shortly. I thought I could maybe do you a favor.”
Regulus takes a sip of the coffee, black with a little sugar. Exactly how he likes it, which is strange information for James to have.
“I thought you’d enjoy having a room to yourself for a couple of nights. Sleep in a real bed. Have some privacy.”
Regulus shakes his head a bit, still foggy from the residual alcohol in his system. “You’re offering me your room?”
James nods slowly. “Yep. If you want it.”
He'd hate to admit it aloud, but he desperately does want the room. He is a very private person. Once one person is awake in the house, his mind won’t let him relax. He’s been running on half nights of sleep and is approaching dangerous territory.
“Thanks." It's all Regulus can manage with the hangover still crashing in waves, and his embarrassment at so badly needing the gift James is offering.
James gives his leg two pats above the blanket and stands. “Don’t do anything too indecent in there,” James says as he grabs a duffle bag off the floor. “Or, if you do, I want a fully detailed report when I get back on Sunday.”
He winks as Regulus furrows his brow. He’s so crass.
Once James is out the door, Regulus pulls himself off the couch and throws on a shirt. He drags himself to the end of the hall, ready to crash into a real bed and sleep for at least another three hours.
He opens the door slowly, still feeling like an intruder despite the invitation from James. He’s seen peeks of James’ room when he’s left his door open. It’s usually in a state of disarray. Clothes everywhere. Half-filled cups of drinks. Not really a relaxing environment.
There's a brief moment of worry as steps into the room. If it’ll be odd to sleep in a bed that smells of a stranger. One that clearly has had many, many consorts between the sheets.
He lays down on the bed briefly, and is met with only the scent of fresh linen and soap. The bed is perfectly made. The pillows are fluffed. He washed the sheets for him. Regulus scans the floor. Perfectly clear. No rubbish at all. James has turned his room into a clean little haven. Thank God.
Regulus almost climbs under the checkered sheets before spotting a CD on the bedside table with a sticky note on the front. He moves to grab it and reads the few scribbled lines.
‘Thought you’d like this based on what you play at the store. Track 1. PS - there are condoms, lube and water inside the bedside table. Use at your leisure.”
Regulus rolls his eyes at the last line, but still opens the drawer to confirm that James really does keep all of these things within easy reach of where he sleeps. A blurred image of James rolling over in his bed to grab a condom tries to push its way through. Regulus swats it aside, refusing to let that image take hold in his mind.
He opens the case and pops the CD into the stereo. He lets the first track start to play as he lays on top of the made bed.
The very first line of the song is slow and sweet, and more than familiar. ‘I’d give up forever to touch you.’
The Goo Goo dolls. As if Regulus hasn’t heard the fucking song Iris.
It does happen to be one of his favorites. He gives James the benefit of the doubt of thinking he’s introducing Regulus to it for the first time, and enjoys the privacy of four walls around him and a closed door. He lets the smooth guitar and sultry voice float over him as he closes his eyes, and falls asleep on the plush mattress.
Chapter 6: The cheaper the beer, the better the time
Summary:
Two invitations and a day at the record store
Notes:
CW: Mention of homophobia & bad parenting
Chapter Text
Regulus stares at James across the sea of Amoeba’s record shelves as he puts out a new display of pop-records that have been flying off the shelf. His hair looks particularly shiny today. It catches the sun from the large windows every time he turns his head.
When James finishes his perfect placing of the CDs and vinyl at the front, he joins Regulus behind the counter. It’s a slow day. Mondays always are. They’ll likely get no customers till at least 4:00.
Regulus clears his throat, catching James' attention. “I liked the CD you left me.”
James’ lips quirk to one side. “Oh?”
“But I’ve heard the Goo Goo Dolls before. Everyone has.”
“Oh.” James starts to walk past Regulus toward the store’s private collection. “Well then, shall we look for something you haven’t heard before?”
James cranes his neck back toward Regulus, who offers him a shy smile at the offer to listen to something he likes for once. He pulls out something he describes as ‘underground indie’ and pops it in.
Now this is new. And lovely.
James notices the tiny smile on Regulus’ face and returns the gesture. “The Gin Blossoms. For your musical education.”
The next few hours are spent with James carefully selecting new albums that have a similar sound. Each one is just as nice as the last. Some even have a little heavy guitar he doesn’t mind for the first time. The chance to finally listen to something Regulus likes makes his skin relax. James being halfway toward friendly makes his lungs expand in a way that allows breathing to come easier than it had the day before.
They exchange a few casual laughs, taking about mostly nothing. Discussing Peter’s new boyfriend John. Musing over how long Sirius will hold his new job at the Thai restaurant down the block. Both agree it can’t last more than a few weeks due to Sirius’ disbelief in strict start and end times at work.
“So... your parents, they’re kind of horrible, right?”
The sudden serious question gives Regulus pause for a moment, freezing him in place with a stack of records in his hands. “I guess so.”
A tiny blink of pity crosses James' face. “They just kicked you both out? With nothing?”
“That about sums it up. My mum is what Californians would call…” Regulus trails off, searching his mind for a proper word. “Not chill?”
A genuine laugh escapes from James’ throat at Regulus’ botched attempt at local slang. Regulus does everything he can not to let the fact that he made James laugh like that affect him. He ignores that it feels good. That he wants to do it again.
The direction of the conversation makes Regulus feel exposed. James shakes off his laugh and tilts his head, waiting to hear more about the infamous Walburga Black who has delivered two Black brothers to James’ doorstep. Talking about his mother’s choice to abandon her motherly duty makes his heart want to jump through his ribcage. He needs to turn this conversation elsewhere. Shine the light on anything but that. “What about your parents? How did they react?”
James strokes his jaw for a moment. “They were mostly worried at first. That it would be dangerous to come out. That I would get sick or get hurt. But they came around eventually. Not everyone in my life did, though.”
James’ face goes blank for just a moment, a tinge of pain showing through before he catches himself and gives a half-smile.
Regulus has never met someone whose parents were supportive when they dropped their inevitable gay secret on them. It’s not the kind of circle his parents ran in. It forces a knot to get stuck in his throat. The knowledge that there are parents out there who love their children regardless of who they choose to love.
When he shakes the thought from his mind, James has closed some distance between them. His eyes have concern forming behind them. It almost feels as if James is about to reach out to him. To offer an embrace or some type of physical support.
Before Regulus can say anything more, or determine what James is going to do next, the bell rings above the front door.
James coughs and turns toward the counter, leaving Regulus to deal with their first customer of the day alone.
“How can I help you?”
The customer steps up to the shelves, wearing a UC Berkeley shirt and has to be at least twenty-three. “I’m looking for a gift for my brother. He’s into Alice in Chains and Greenday. Got anything like that he maybe hasn’t heard of?”
Regulus eyes James, hoping he’ll step in with his vast knowledge of music. But he just smirks back, leaving Regulus to fumble through the interaction.
“Erm…” Regulus starts flipping through records, pulling out a random one that has a similar cover to the one Alice in Chains album he’s seen at their place. “This one should work.”
The man gives Regulus a winning smile. He’s kind of handsome. Black hair, golden skin, built frame, about Regulus’ height. He takes the record into his left hand and offers Regulus his right. “I’m Scott.”
Regulus takes his hand and shakes it. “Regulus.”
“That’s an odd name.”
Regulus laughs a bit. Not the first time he’s heard that. “My parents have an obsession with astronomy. It’s a star.”
“A star,” Scott muses, eyeing Regulus in front of him. “I like it.”
Regulus can feel a bit of heat rush into his cheek as Scott smiles at him, never breaking eye contact. Regulus forces an awkward cough, shriveling under the stare of a handsome stranger.
He leads Scott to the front counter to help him checkout, while James floats at the edge of the back counter shuffling through receipts that Regulus is pretty sure he had already organized earlier in the day. As he slips the record into an Amoeba bag and hands it across the counter, Scott freezes as they both hold one side of the bag.
“Listen, sorry if this is forward. But I live in graduate housing right off campus. We’re having a little party on Friday. Any chance you’d want to come?”
Regulus sees James freeze out of the corner of his eye. He makes sure to keep his gaze fixed on the handsome boy standing in front of him and not on assessing why James has stopped flipping through receipts mid-movement. “Yeah. Sure. That would be great.”
Scott writes an address and a time on the back of the spare receipt. He adds a phone number to his place and his name at the bottom for good measure. Regulus stares at it until the bell ringing above the front door pulls him back to reality. He finally looks at James, who gives him two painfully long seconds of judgmental eye contact before returning to his task. Who the hell is he to judge someone for flirting with a customer?
The rest of their shift is a bit awkward. James stops making casual conversation, feverishly cleaning every corner of the store they usually ignore. He switches the music back to his usual noise, opting for the Beastie Boys, which has to be Regulus’ least favorite artist of the ones James has forced him to listen to. He feels dizzy. And guilty. Like he's done something wrong but can't for the life of him pinpoint what.
When they’re nearly done getting ready to lock-up for the night, Regulus cannot wait to get out. The taught silence could be cut with a knife. He even attempted to break it once or twice over the last hour. Asking a question about a certain record. Making a comment about a particularly colorful customer. But he was met with grumbles and brush-offs and blank stares. It’s as if James tried his friendship on at the thrift store down the street and decided the fit just wasn’t quite right. He threw Regulus back on the rack. He doesn’t want him.
He starts to follow James to the front door, ready to accept they’re back to square one - cold indifference. But when James reaches for the handle, instead of pushing the glass door open, he turns the lock.
“Let’s have a beer before we head out.”
Regulus furrows his brow, wondering why after hours of silence James wants to extend this hostile environment even longer. James’ eyes soften, almost pleading for Regulus to accept his gesture. It’s giving Regulus emotional whiplash; trying to understand why James switches from walls and distance to gentle and easy from hour to hour.
Regulus sighs. “Alright.”
He follows James into the back of the store, where a desk, a minifridge and an old couch serve as a makeshift break room and office.
James grabs a CD off the desk in the corner and lays the disc into the small stereo they keep in the back. Mazzy Star’s Fade Into You starts to play. Another one of Regulus’ favorites. James has a unique knack for reading his taste, when he wants to be generous about sharing the soundtrack.
James grabs two beers and hands one to Regulus before sitting on the couch. Regulus looks at the seat next to James, and takes slow steps toward it. He sits as far away on the couch as he can without it seeming like he’s purposefully putting space between them.
James clinks his can against Regulus. “Cheers.”
Regulus takes a sip and nearly spits out the liquid. It’s horrible. Like dirty water that’s been left out in the sun. “What the fuck is this?”
The sound of James' laugh barely registers over Regulus' coughing. When Regulus' throat has cleared most of the disguising taste, James has turned so his legs are crossed on the cushion. “The cheaper the beer, the better the time," he says as he stares across the small space between them.
Regulus tries for a second sip. Still disgusting. “That is not a saying.”
James shrugs and continues sipping on his awful beverage. Regulus suffers through the entire can, and another, and one more. Eventually James lets his legs slip till they’re nearly flat, reaching across the couch. His feet are almost tucked under Regulus’ thigh.
Regulus looks down at where they’re touching, wondering if it’s purposeful or if James has just lost some motor function from the beer. His own inebriated mind gives him a brief moment of boldness. He turns, letting one his legs slip in between James’ while the other hangs off the edge of the couch.
“So,” James starts, looking briefly down at where they’re legs are almost intertwined. “What are you up to tonight, Reggie?”
“Please don’t call me that. Only my brother calls me that.”
James has a mischievous smile on his face as he tilts his head. “Not a fan?”
The violent shake of Regulus' head is nearly involuntary.
“What about Reg?”
Regulus has never been called Reg before. Or anything besides his proper name. It’s the Black way, to be formal. But he likes how it sounds coming out of James’ mouth. “Reg is fine.”
“So, what are you up to tonight, Reg? ”
“Probably going home and doing nothing, as always.”
James scoffs. “You need to get out more. Explore the city.”
Regulus stares back at James whose eyes are burning through him. “I don’t know how to get around. I’d just get lost. I can’t even drive over here.”
The couch creeks as James stands without warning, startling Regulus from the movement. He offers Regulus his hand and pulls him off the couch. “That’s fair. What if I offer to take you out to San Francisco sometime? We can take BART.”
Regulus realizes he’s still holding James' hand and drops it promptly. So, he’s back to being nice again. Might as well capitalize. “Sure. That’d be nice.”
James smiles back at him, shaking his head a little like he’s surprised Regulus accepted his offer. He’s so confusing. Regulus can never get a read on what his intentions are. If he’s being kind or belittling him. It’s driving him a bit mad.
The concentration of James' stare is more intense than the sun. It causes Regulus to awkwardly shift his weight back and forth from foot to foot, just for something to do under the burning attention. Every time James looks at Regulus it’s like he’s studying something, trying to solve some equation. He doesn’t bother responding to Regulus’ agreement for a day across the bridge. He just keeps staring. Letting his gaze roll over Regulus’ entire body like waves pulling in and out from the tide.
Regulus has to resist shying away. He doesn’t like being stared at. Especially when he doesn’t know why he’s being gazed upon. And by a boy who can’t seem to decide if they’re friends or enemies.
James reaches out from their half step of distance and pushes a bit of hair out of Regulus face. The brief contact of James’ fingertips against his temple sends a shudder down his spine. Is he making a move?
Regulus feels a bit of panic start to stir in his chest before James opens his mouth to speak. “Let's get home.”
What the fuck?
James wastes no time turning around and heading out to the front. Regulus stands there, blinking and stunned. Confused is too small of a word for what James makes him feel. He’s bewildered. Lost. Deafened and blindfolded while trying to complete a jigsaw puzzle by touch alone.
He takes the first step and follows James out into the street. James doesn’t turn around when Regulus steps up behind him. He just starts moving toward the apartment. They don’t speak the entire ten blocks.
Chapter 7: Hail to California
Summary:
A party on campus. A perfectly lovely graduate student with affections for Reg.
Notes:
CW: Mild sexual content
Chapter Text
Berkeley, CA - May 1999
Somehow Regulus’ invitation to a campus party turned into everyone’s invitation. They’re all shouting at each other from their open bedroom doors. About what to wear, how much beer they should bring, what they think the vibe will be.
Regulus sits on his couch, in his plain clothes, and drinks his beer alone while they all run in between each other’s rooms, scattering discarded clothing into the hall as they go. Sirius has The Cure on the highest volume the speakers in his room can go. He can hear Friday I’m in Love echoing through the hall, almost as clearly as if he were right next to the stereo.
Finally, Peter, John, and Remus come out to the living space, leaving Sirius and James to finish helping each other dress. Remus takes the couch spot, and Peter and John drop to the floor.
John looks up at Regulus from the ground. “How did we get invited to this party again?”
Regulus smirks a bit. “You all didn’t get invited. I was invited and Sirius insisted that we turn this into a group affair.”
Peter giggles as he puts an arm around John. “I’m sorry, Regulus. Are we cramping your style?”
Regulus shakes his head a little too quickly, worried that even for a moment they’ll consider sending him to the party alone. He has no idea if showing up to a random party with five additional gay men than Scott was expecting will be a problem, but he’d far rather be surrounded by people he knows than a stranger in a crowd. “I’m glad you’re all coming. I’m not exactly amazing with crowds.”
James suddenly steps into the room just in time to hear Regulus’ comment. “You don’t say.”
Sirius is just behind him, and gives James a gentle punch in the shoulder. “Leave it, mate. We need to instill confidence in Reggie tonight. Maybe he can finally land himself his own sweet, sweet lover.”
Regulus rolls his eyes until they land on James, who’s moved to the window, ready to light a joint. James’ eyebrows furrow as he pops the joint in between his lips. His eyes narrow as he flicks the lighter to life. Through the entire inhale and release of the cloud of smoke into the room, James doesn’t break eye contact with Regulus. The intensity of his stalking eyes unknowingly entrances Regulus, like a moth to a flame.
Regulus doesn’t realize how long they’ve been making eye contact until Remus suddenly clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. He looks away, but James’ eyes remain. Fixed on him through another exhale.
“Are we ready to leave?”
They all stroll down Telegraph Avenue toward campus. They pass several packed bars with groups of smokers in front of them. They pass one bar that is positively blasting Tearin’ Up My Heart by N’Sync, a band all the roommates have mutually agreed are ruining music.
Artists' tables line the street as they continue on, selling jewelry and pipes, tapestries and tie-dye t-shirts. James pops some change into various cups of homeless people on their way along the street. He hands a five to one man in particular after asking how his week has been and shaking his hand.
When they arrive at the correct building, Regulus’ nerves start to seep from his pores. He feels the usual tightening of his chest that always surfaces before he walks through the door to a room of people he doesn’t know. He lets Sirius and Remus walk in first, followed by Peter and John. He stalls on the street, wondering if maybe he should just head home and save himself.
James approaches from behind and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. Regulus startles, turning at the sudden contact. James has yet another joint in his hand, and offers it to Regulus.
“Do you need something to relax?”
Regulus looks at the joint, horrified that his anxiety is so obvious. He lets his eyes rise to meet James’, trying to dispel his clear fear at the idea of smoking weed for the first time. James tilts his head as Regulus takes the joint in between his fingers. A tiny, wicked smile starts to form on James’ face.
“Just inhale like a cigarette, but not quite as deep or long. Hold for a second and release.”
Regulus follows his instructions, letting the smoke settle into his lungs for just a moment before letting it out with his breath. The relaxation is almost immediate. His head suddenly has twice the weight, already wanting to fall backwards. His fingertips tingle a bit as he looks at both of his hands, tightening them into fists then stretching them out.
Regulus’ hands jerk as James slips his hands in. If it didn’t feel so immaculate he’d probably question it, but God it feels nice. James adds pressure into Regulus’ palms with both of his thumbs. The release of tension is nothing short of euphoric. He suddenly understands why people smoke all day, every day.
Regulus almost closes his fingers around James’ hands, wanting to feel that release once more, but James drops his hands too quickly. Always giving. And taking away before Regulus can truly enjoy it.
James clears his throat and moves to hold the door open so Regulus can walk through first. Regulus walks through just a tick off balance. He can’t trust his mind as it tells him James is staring again.
They take a rickety elevator up to the fourth floor, then a short stint of stairs to a rooftop that overlooks part of the campus.
When they step onto the roof, the party is absolutely mental. So much for a little gathering. There are three kegs just inside the entrance, and a table full of spirits and mixers. There can’t be less than 100 people on this roof. What’s Up by 4 Non Blondes is blasting through a speaker on the other side of the roof. At least the music isn’t shit.
Regulus spots Sirius and Remus already tongue tied in a corner. He hates that the first feeling that surfaces watching his brother and Remus loving each other so publicly is fear. That someone here may take issue with their innocent display of partnership. He looks around, assessing if anyone is staring or sneering. If he’ll need to step in to defend them. But everyone seems lost in their own conversations. This place - this little pocket of the world. It seems to be a strange bubble where being like Regulus, like Sirius, like all of them, is okay. Isn’t a reason for hateful words or violence.
He wants to trust it. That he’s safe here. But still, the anxiety and the weed in his system makes Regulus feel short of breath.
He nearly reaches for James’ hand, craving something solid as his mind starts to float above himself. But James has already started moving, heading toward the liquor table without offering to bring Regulus with him. Fuck.
Scott appears like a savior from the masses only moments after James has abandoned his side. “You made it!”
Regulus tries not to let his eyelids get too heavy as he looks at Scott, confirming that he still finds him handsome. “I did.”
Scott smiles at Regulus and grabs his hand, leading him around the outskirts of the crowds. He introduces him to a few friends, who ask too many questions about Regulus’ life in London. Why he chose to come to Berkeley. How he and Scott met. It’s all a bit overwhelming with his brain still feathered and wavy from the joint.
He doesn’t mean to do it, but he’s tired from talking. He leans his head down on Scott’s shoulder for respite. Scott seems pleased as Regulus tucks into his neck, and brings an arm around him, holding him tightly against his body. The pressure allows Regulus to relax momentarily, until he hears an N’Sync song start to play over the stereo and groans at the electronic melody.
After a couple of minutes of dozing, Regulus opens his eyes and scans the crowd, trying to find one of his roommates. He finally spots Peter and John talking to a group of girls with brightly colored hair. Just to their left is James, who looks positively vexed as they make a moment of eye contact through the crowded space. Through the cloud of smoke and moving bodies, he watches James cross the room and immediately lace his arm through the elbow of a familiar looking gent.
Regulus pops his head-up, trying to place the face.
Trevor. The first guy James brought home after Regulus moved in. So much for James never going back to the same date twice.
Regulus does his best to ignore it. He has a perfectly lovely graduate student wrapped around him. He’s warm, and kind, and probably doesn’t go around fucking half the city. So he loses himself in Scott’s company, letting him pull Regulus around the party for a couple of hours.
Regulus may have made a small mistake when he accepted another joint as it was handed to him. The second hit was less relaxing, mixing with the alcohol in his veins. He suddenly feels trapped in the crowd, wishing desperately to be away from the chatter around him. He makes a vague excuse to Scott and makes quick steps toward the stairwell that leads into the apartment building.
When he’s reached the fourth floor, he spots a public loo just to the left and turns in. Once the door is closed, he splashes water into his face, letting the cold water dispel some of his anxiousness. He steadies his breathing till his heart relaxes. Just as he starts to feel steady, the door opens and startles him back into a slight state of alarm.
Regulus immediately rolls his eyes when James closes the door behind him and leans his back against the door. He reaches into his pocket and starts to light yet another fucking joint, causing the rare non-smokey air to disappear behind his clouds.
James coughs through a tiny laugh. “Such a lightweight, aren’t we?”
Regulus shoots him a scathing look, because he’s done with this. His mind is exhausted from James flip flopping in between his two selves. Kind one moment, a fucking prick the next.
“What the fuck is your problem, James?”
James swallows hard, shocked only briefly before recovering and letting his sly half smile fall back into place. “I don’t have a problem.”
“Clearly you do. With me, specifically. So what the fuck is it?”
James takes a few steps into the room, till he’s nearly chest to chest with Regulus. He takes another hit of the joint before tossing it into the sink. “Why do you think I have a problem with you?”
Regulus' breath starts coming faster and faster as the irritation grows inside of him. James' proximity to his body makes him want to reach out a hand and push him backwards. It’s ridiculous that James is genuinely unaware of how he’s been acting. He’s playing with him. Regulus is sure of it.
Fuck that.
“Whatever. I’m done with this bullshit.” Regulus lets his shoulder knock into James’ hard as he pushes past him toward the door. Just as he starts to reach his hand for the doorknob his other wrist is caught. He looks down at James’ hand wrapped around his wrist. He turns enough to look up at James, anger spilling from both of their tensed bodies. As their eyes meet, James’ face softens, turning to something akin to friendly.
Regulus’ brain is still foggy from the weed leaving his system.
He may be imagining it when James takes Regulus’ hand into his own. Until James starts rubbing his thumb back and forth against the soft part of his palm and the pressure dissipates the brain fog into sharp clarity. Regulus turns to face James fully as he closes his eyes for just a second, letting the feeling of their hands touching dissolve into his bones.
Before he has a chance to open his eyes, he can feel James' entire body move forward until their shirts are grazing against each other. He opens his eyes just as James is moving his other hand and laying it on the side of Regulus’ neck. James mirrors the same slow circles there. James kneads out some of the tension in Regulus’ neck, which causes Regulus to release a very, very unintentional moan.
James brings his other hand to Regulus’ neck, till they’re both massaging into his skin. He’s not gentle as his hands wrap around the entirety of Regulus’ neck, stealing a tiny portion of his breath. Regulus’ head falls back at the pleasure. This is not going to end well.
Just as the thought crosses Regulus' mind, James is leaning his head down and letting his lips hover over where Regulus still has his neck bent back. James’ grasp holds him there like a rag doll. He whispers directly into Regulus’ mouth that is still parted a tiny bit from the lingering waves of pleasure. “Should I stop?”
Regulus starts shaking his head back and forth slowly under James' grip. “No.”
James instantly lets his mouth drop down to meet Regulus. He’s soft for just a moment before opening his mouth and letting his tongue take what it wants. The feeling of their mouths against each other sends Regulus’ heart into a sprint. All the anger and hate melt into a river of raging need.
James drops his hands from Regulus’ neck and brings them to his waist, wrapping one arm around his back till they’re pressed against each other.
Regulus feels a sudden surge of power as he reaches down and runs his hand along the front of James’ jeans, feeling how hard he is underneath and the unsurprising size of him based on the noises he’s heard from the other side of his bedroom door.
James pauses momentarily, pulling back and looking at Regulus with surprise in his eyes. Regulus stares back, asserting dominance for the first time between them. His sudden grab for control seems to send James into a tizzy.
James takes a long step forward, sending Regulus’ back into the door behind him. He all but lifts Regulus up, letting one of Regulus’ legs wrap around his leg. The friction building between them has Regulus seeing stars. He lets James suck on his neck as his head falls back once again, knocking into the wood. He loses himself entirely to the wet warmth against his neck.
James lets him find the ground and reaches for the button of his pants when a loud knock sounds on the door behind them.
They both freeze in place, panting chest to chest.
A muffled voice screams through the door. “Hello? I need to use the bathroom! Anyone in there?”
James takes an immediate step back, messing with his hair and putting his dark waves back into place. Regulus stares at him from the corner of his eyes and he tries to unwrinkle his own shirt and breathe through his desire.
James’ eyes are wide as they stand there speechless for half a minute. Regulus can see a thought forming behind James’ eyes. One that turns James’ expression into worry. Or regret?
Without another word, James sneaks around Regulus. He unlocks the door for the stranger trying to get in and swings it open. He walks back into the hall, leaving Regulus ruffled and unsatisfied, and more than anything, angry. All that hot wanting freezes again as he’s abandoned in the middle of the washroom as a complete stranger eyes him with judgment.
With slumped shoulders, and an uncomfortable sense that he just made a huge mistake, Regulus follows James out into the hall. When he sees that James has already almost made his way to the top of the stairs toward the roof, Regulus sighs and turns the other way. To head home, like he should have just done in the first place.
Chapter 8: Blondie’s Pizza
Summary:
I apologize in advance for any emotional damage felt from the conversation between Regulus, Remus and Peter.
Notes:
CW: None in this chapter
Chapter Text
“You’re acting really fucking strange.”
Regulus looks over at his brother who’s already late for his first day at yet another new job. Why the pizza joint a few blocks down agreed to hire Sirius is beyond any of their comprehension. Especially considering how many times the group of them have wandered in there drunk at one in the morning, causing a ruckus and hell for the staff. Perhaps it’s payback. Sirius’ turn to experience the late night wanderers who are desperate for their greasy salvation.
Regulus keeps his face calm and neutral, not wanting to give himself away anymore than he already has. “No I'm not.”
Sirius scoffs. “You are. But keep your secrets, I have to get to work. Maybe I'll be able to bring home free pizza later.” They can all hear the quick sounds of footsteps as he rushes down the stairwell on the other side of their wall.
Regulus turns his attention back toward the room, where Remus and Peter are passing a joint back and forth on the couch. John pulls the Ben Folds Five CD out of the stereo and tosses it aside. He shuffles through the stack placing contenders in a neat stack by his side. Brick will be a hard song to beat, but he’ll figure it out. His taste is reliable. Far more than Sirius or Remus and their noise.
Remus and Peter both stare at Regulus with matched expressions that remind him a bit of his mother when she used to catch Sirius and him in a lie.
Regulus stares back, trying to assert a tiny bit of dominance. “What?”
There’s an exchange of silent agreement before they turn their attention back to Regulus as he plops down to the orange armchair.
Remus leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees. “Something happened between you and James, didn’t it?”
If the long pause doesn’t give Regulus away, the look on his face surely does.
A smile creeps into Peter’s mouth. “Knew it.”
Regulus hangs his head, burying his face in his hands and groaning with shame. “How did you find out?”
“Oh cheer-up Regulus. It’s okay.” Remus snuffs out the joint before continuing. “You two have just been orbiting around each other the last week like the other is the fucking plague. Even more than usual. Classic James move.” Remus’ eyes turn to sympathy. “Also, I caught you staring at James when he came out here in only a towel. You were like a lion staring at a piece of meat.”
Regulus groans again, curling his entire body into the armchair and hugging his knees. “I’m an idiot. Now I’m just another one of his random slags that he’ll discard.”
Peter moves to the floor once John has turned around from finally picking out a CD. Creep by Radiohead starts to play over the speakers as Peter leans in toward Regulus’ chair. “We’ve all been there. It’s not so bad. He softens back up eventually, if you still want to be friends.”
Regulus’ head instantly pops up at the comment. “What do you mean you’ve all been there?”
Remus clears his throat, shooting Peter a death stare at the admission.
“No,” Regulus pleads across the room, shaking his head. “Both of you?”
Remus chimes in first. “We met when we were eighteen, I am not to blame for what transpired between us freshman year.”
Regulus turns his attention to Peter who’s cheeks have gone red as John giggles beside him at his embarrassment. “Well I was only twenty-one when we met, alright? Barely legal to drink! Plus it’s hard to turn down a free ticket to the best ride in town, if you know what I mean.”
Regulus almost chokes at Peter’s comment. John has a feigned look of shock on his face that Peter dispels with a chaste kiss. Regulus cannot believe that James’ reputation crosses years of their friendship. That three fourths of this Goddamn room has been touched by him. Fucking hell.
Remus’ voice softens as he sees Regulus’ clear distress. “All we’re saying is that it’s not a big deal. James won’t be weird about it. He never is with guys he’s slept with as long as they aren’t interested in more. You know, the emotional stuff. The commitment.”
“We didn’t sleep together.”
Peter and Remus, and even John, all quirk an eyebrow in unison. Remus shakes off the shock first. “You didn’t sleep together?”
Regulus shakes his head. “We only kissed.”
“Hm,” Remus scratches his head. “That’s different.” Remus starts stroking his jaw as a thought forms behind his eyes. “Do you want to sleep with him?”
Regulus shrugs back and stays silent.
Remus chuckles from the couch. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Regulus grabs a throw pillow from the chair and throws it across the room. Remus catches it in his hand, eyes wide, and a teasing smile on his lips.
A sharp throat clearing from the hall sends a shock of fear down Regulus’ back. He doesn’t need to turn to know that James will be standing behind them. Please don’t let him have overheard that entire conversation.
“If you’re all done discussing my sex life, may I speak for myself?”
Regulus stares at his feet as he places them back to the floor, sitting up straight as James drops to the couch next to Remus. Regulus sneaks a look at him before averting his gaze to his hands in his lap like a child being reprimanded.
There’s a taught silence among them while James gets settled. “Yes, Regulus and I kissed. Once. We were high as fuck, and it was an accident.”
Regulus’ eyes snap to James with fury. An accident? Was the explicit asking of his permission to kiss him and the fact that they surely would have gone further had they not been interrupted just a figment of his imagination? What a twit.
James huffs, breaking their stare-off. “Most importantly, it’s not going to happen again. So, if you all wouldn’t mind not bothering Sirius with this information,” he gives Remus a sharp glance, knowing he’s more likely to spill to his boyfriend than anyone, “that would be greatly appreciated.”
There’s an awkward melody of mumbled agreements from everyone except Regulus, who's still trying to sear into James' skin with his gaze. James stares at him, and behind the casual neutrality he’s trying to display, Regulus can see the tiny hint of something else. Of begging. Of desperation. Pain, even.
Regulus narrows his eyes, trying to understand what is happening in this room as he nods slowly in agreement not to tell his brother, though he’s unsure of why he’d even care.
James claps his hands together once. “Great.” He begins to stand, back to his aloof demeanor. “Now that we’ve got that settled, let’s go get free Blondies slices from Sirius. I’m starving.”
Regulus is fucking furious as he follows the group down their little stairwell and out onto Telegraph. He stares at the back of James’ head as if he’ll know somehow - that Regulus is burning holes into his skin with his eyes. He knew James was what Sirius described as a ‘town bicycle’. In the sense that everyone gets a ride if they want it. But he thought they were something like friends. That he’d at least get a little more.
James jokes and laughs and goes about their pizza excursion as if nothing has changed. Completely unaffected by a kiss that almost made Regulus faint. There are far too many conflicting feelings fighting for control within him. It slowly becomes too much until he grabs his half-eaten slice off the plate and leaves.
When he’s outside, he catches James’ eye through the glass window. James finally shows his first sign of worry. Maybe a tiny hint of guilt.
Good.
Regulus wanders down the street alone until the Cody’s Books sign illuminates beside him. He walks in and peruses the shelves mindlessly. He’s not looking for anything in particular - he just doesn’t want to go sit on his couch waiting for everyone to come home. He cannot stand another night watching James smile while his insides are knotting with hate.
He reaches the classics section and pulls out Little Women. He drags a tiny wood stool to a corner and sits. His thumbs flip through pages till he finds his favorite chapter. As he takes in each line, he forces his mind to focus on the characters instead of James. A silent protest to read about love in the way he craves but isn’t sure exists in his world. Until he remembers what his favorite character goes through in this book - rejection. Confusion. Craving someone who gives just enough to keep you close but not enough to satisfy. Ugh.
Three chapters in, he hears a familiar voice saying his name just as Laurie is about to get rejected by the love of his life.
“The star himself.”
Regulus finds Scott hovering above him. A moment of guilt threatens him - for bailing on the party without a goodbye. But Scott wastes no time easing his worry.
“Sorry we missed each other at the end of the party.” He looks at the cover of the book Regulus holds. “Are you an Alcott fan?”
Regulus smiles and nods. “I’m not sure the word fan is strong enough.”
Scott searches the aisles and pulls up a second stool so he can sit next to Regulus. He immediately puts a hand on Regulus’ knee, with a soft and welcoming smile to match.
“I was just picking up a recipe book. What are you up to? I can try a new dish out on you at my place if you’re free.” He crosses his heart metaphorically with his finger. “Swear it would just be us this time.”
Regulus holds his breath, trying to make sure he isn’t considering this offer just because of his anger. Just because his mind insists on falling back to James’ hands around his throat. Scott is still handsome. Still kind. The type of guy who doesn’t mind someone taking a nap on their shoulder in the middle of a party.
“I’d love that.”
Before he takes the same rickety elevator up to Scott’s apartment, he makes himself a promise. He’s going to enjoy himself. He’s going to delight in this considerate man who clearly wants him without confusion or strings. Regulus deserves that.
Chapter 9: Squander my resistance
Summary:
Regulus faces a classic quandary: What is good for you vs. what you want
Notes:
CW: None in this chapter
Chapter Text
The night after Regulus got back from sleeping at Scott’s, he walked into a dramatic scene. Sirius was beside himself, asking if Regulus was arrested. Or attacked. Scathing him for not calling. He’d used a phrase their grandmother once said to punish them - ‘I’m severely disappointed in your lack of consideration for others’ feelings.’ Word for word, not a lick of sarcasm at the irony. Regulus has perhaps never rolled his eyes harder as the judgment passed over Sirius’ face.
Remus had calmly asked if he was okay, dropping the conversation promptly after Regulus casually let all four of his roommates know he’d spent the night at Scott’s apartment. Peter had given Regulus a firm and pleased pat on the shoulder.
He got what he wanted. Fed a nice meal. Laid by a handsome man. Relaxed and liberated from some of the tension that was building inside of him. Plus, a look from James that was equal parts furious as it was pained after Regulus shared the news. And yet what he felt strongest was guilt.
Why didn’t it bring him satisfaction to get exactly what he was hoping for when he accepted Scott’s invitation?
James barely came out of his room for the next forty-eight hours unless he had to. Not a single word exchanged between them for two entire days. It almost drove Regulus to a breaking point. That he was the one feeling guilty for doing something James has done countless times since Regulus arrived in this apartment.
The tension finally loosened its grip between them just a bit over the last few days. But only because Regulus decided to play James’ game. To be overly genial. Cold indifference painted over with politeness and canned responses.
Every word that passes between James and Regulus is now perfectly pleasant. Cordial, almost to a fault. Like they’re both performing. Always on their best behavior.
‘Pleases’ and ‘thank yous’. Saying good morning and good night. Complimenting James’ music choices at the shop even when he knows that James has selected something loud and heavy just to piss him off. Sitting on a couch with the exact amount of distance two roommates who are uninvolved should have between them. Regulus is learning. That kindness can be just as cruel.
After their Thursday shift, where Regulus casually mentioned that Scott had invited him to another gathering at the graduate housing the following weekend, James quite suddenly announced another weekend trip to visit his family in Los Angeles that he hadn’t mentioned before. To which Regulus smiled and nodded and pretended he was perfectly happy for James to get a chance to spend time with his parents.
Good riddance. Once again James offers Regulus his room for the weekend. He wasn’t sure with their silent standoff that James would offer the olive branch. Regulus accepted his offer with a pressed smile and a proper thank you. He’s committed to being civil with James no matter how much it makes his throat burn. He’s not going to show that he’s affected. He didn’t do anything wrong.
James says his goodbyes to the roommates Friday morning and throws a pathetic and fast bye towards Regulus as he hauls his bag out the door. Regulus moves some of his stuff into James’ room after he’s left, feeling even more uncomfortable amongst James’ personal things than the first time. But the room is clean once again. And he finds another sticky note on James’ bedside table. This time on top of a stack of three CDs. Old school, based on their cases. Stuff from the 70s.
‘Reg - The Boxer. Both Sides Now. Annie’s Song.’
Regulus pops in the CDs one at a time, pulling out the inserts of each CD so he can read the lyrics as he listens to the songs. Each one is about longing, and love. Just up Regulus’ ally. Again. Which only serves to annoy him further that James is so talented at reading him, while Regulus couldn’t confirm a single thing that James is feeling with any kind of confidence.
He starts with Simon and Garfunkel, listening to lyrics about two lovers, or maybe just friends, who have been away from each other far too long. Who find comfort from their loneliness in strangers and hookers. Jesus.
He moves to Joni Mitchell, who he knows well. Another artist who gets him. He lets her gravelly voice sing to him about the highs and lows of desire and love. How it changes the way you view the world, depending where you are on the journey.
When he gets to Annie’s Song, he really pays attention to the lyrics in the booklet since he’s never listened to John Denver before. A true American artist by the sound of the country twang. He notices a pen mark, underlining one of the lyrics.
‘Come love me again.’
Regulus stares at it, wondering when James wrote in the underline. Was it for him? Was it just a favorite line he marked years ago? He flips through the rest of the booklets, searching for any other personal additions or notations on other lyrics but finds nothing. He runs his thumb over the small dent from the pen pressing into the page. What is this?
Sirius returns that evening with three large boxes of Blondies Pizza. A welcome hot meal to their usual scrounging. They all fill themselves up, lazing around for hours after and sharing beer and cigarettes on the fire escape.
Regulus crawls through the window to get a new drink and finds Sirius walking into the kitchen from the hall.
“Beer?” Regulus opens the fridge and grabs two, knowing what his brother will answer.
Sirius pops the can and takes a sip. “Staying in James’ room again?”
Regulus searches his brother’s face. There’s suspicion in his eyes. “Yeah, just while he’s away. Nice to have some privacy for once.”
Sirius takes another long sip, making a humming sound that is laced with judgment.
“Is there a problem with that?”
Sirius presses his lips together awkwardly. “No problem. As long as it’s just while James is out of town.”
Regulus furrows his brow at his brother and puts his beer on the counter. “Why would it be an issue if he was in town?”
Sirius scoffs, wiping at one of his eyes briefly. “Because James doesn’t do relationships. And you just went through a huge life change, and are vulnerable. I love the guy, truly, but I’m not letting him defile my little brother who just moved here after falling out with our parents.”
Heat immediately floods Regulus’ mind. Who the hell does Sirius think he is? Regulus is twenty-one, not some child who needs protecting. “Sirius, what did you do?”
Sirius averts his eyes, messing with the tab on his beer. “Nothing.”
“Sirius.”
Sirius looks up, the guilt starting to peek through. “I just told James to leave you be. To not mess you up by hooking-up with you and discarding you like he does with all his random boys. I did that for you, Reggie. You’re welcome.”
“So you’re the reason he’s been a fucking prick this entire time?” Regulus doesn’t break eye contact. He wants Sirius to see his anger, displayed in its entirety.
Sirius takes a tiny step back, throwing his hands up a bit. “Hey, I just told him not to take you to bed, not to be a fucking dick to you. I even told him to chill out when he was taking it too far.”
Regulus rolls his eyes at his brother’s intrusion in his personal life. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to see things from his side. He’s not completely wrong. If James was being a git just because fucking Regulus was off the table, that it’s own problem. So then why is he leaving him CDs full of love songs about longing?
Regulus shakes his head, still trying to stuff down his anger and not blow-up at his brother’s confession. “Just stay out of it from now on, alright? I can fend for myself. I’ve been here for months, Sirius. I don’t need a bodyguard anymore.”
A sad slanted smile curls into half of Sirius’ mouth. “Alright. But I meant what I said. James is no good for you. If you want a one night stand, fine. But he’ll hurt you, if you get attached. I’ve seen it happen before. And Scott seems nice. If you were to ask for my advice, stick with him.”
“Well I’m not asking for advice.”
Sirius throws his hands up again while he passes Regulus toward the window and climbs out onto the fire escape. Regulus stands by the fridge and grabs his can of beer, chugging the rest of it and crushing the can under his fist. He fucking hates that his brother is probably right. James is too complicated. Too hot and cold. Scott is stable and kind, and doesn’t drive him to the brink of insanity.
Regulus wouldn’t normally fancy himself a snoop. But he has to know if James has a habit for underlining words or not. He looks through CD inserts. Books. Textbooks. By all observations, James doesn’t go around underlining phrases often.
So it was for him? A message? Or is he reading too much into this?
Regulus spends the next two nights restless under James' blue checkered sheets. He can still smell James on the pillowcases, even through the fresh detergent scents.
The Saturday before James returns the faint scent starts to drive him up the wall. Like a tease - not quite enough to satisfy this itch to be enveloped in James.
At two in the morning he finally sits up, abandoning his attempts to lose consciousness. He tiptoes over to the laundry hamper and pulls out the shirt that hangs half off the edge. He throws it on, and suppresses the shame as he lifts the fabric over his face and finally gets the whole of it. Of James - and his sweet scent. He rummages in James’ bedside drawer, beneath the condoms he stores there to find the pad of sticky notes. He pulls one out and scribbles his favorite lyric from Annie’s Song before sticking it on top of John Denver’s CD.
‘Like a sleepy blue ocean - you fill up my senses.’
Finally, wrapped in the light cotton of James’ shirt, he falls asleep.
Chapter 10: Enough fliers to fill Telegraph Avenue
Summary:
Open mic night at Amoeba. A song. An agreement.
Accompanying playlist is also now linked in fic summary <3
Notes:
CW: We've reached the e-for-explicit part of the fic.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
James and Regulus spend an entire week helping Marlene plan a local open mic night at Amoeba. It’s laborious. Designing fliers. Hanging them for fifty blocks all the way through Oakland. Calling local newspapers and zines to announce the event in their issues. Cleaning every fucking corner of the store and clearing out enough space for a stage and standing room.
Regulus can’t tell if anything has changed since James returned. He never acknowledged the note Regulus left, but he’s been pleasant - and not the fake way they had been practicing before James left for Los Angeles. He seems different. Lighter.
The music at the shop turned back to soft melodies and bands Regulus loves. There were a few moments of genuine laughter. But nothing substantial. Nothing verbal. Nothing to give Regulus a hint of whether or not James has flipped back to the version of himself who’s happy to have Regulus around.
By Friday they are both relieved to be done preparing Amoeba, ready for their event to take place the following evening, at $2 entry and $2 per beer. That is until Marlene descends upon them just as they’re both planning to leave for the evening.
“We need more fliers. Seriously, boys. I walked like fifteen blocks and there aren’t nearly enough!”
James and Regulus eye each other, with no interest to make yet another trek up and down Telegraph.
“Oh do NOT give me that attitude. One more run down the street. Put them directly into people’s hands if you have to.”
James sighs and heads toward the back to print yet another round of fliers on bright pink paper.
Marlene walks around the counter and leans against it, looking Regulus up and down. She nods toward the door James just walked through toward the back room. “What's up with you two?”
Regulus coughs, looking at the door to see if James is lurking. When the coast looks clear he leans against the counter in front of her. “Nothing. I’m not sure James likes having me around.”
A vicious smirk appears on Marlene’s face. “That’s not my read. Plus Remus told me you kissed.”
Fucking Remus. “Yeah, once. We were high. And drunk. He went back to being a prat in less than ten minutes.”
Marlene laughs, full of wicked delight. “James doesn’t hate you, Regulus. If James hated you, he would have fucked you ages ago. The fact that he hasn’t tried again means he’s probably totally in love with you.”
Regulus has a strong urge to cut this conversation off before James has a chance to walk in on it. But he’s too curious. “Explain.”
Marlene sighs and leans in a bit so her voice can be lower. “James is straight-up, hand to God, hella afraid of love. I can see it, anytime he hits it off with someone at a party. He never gets their number. It’s always the meat heads or the beauty kings he takes home. Never someone he’s actually talked to all night.”
“I don’t think so, Marlene. He acts like I’m ruining his peace.”
“That only proves my point. You probably are ruining his peace.” Marlene clears her throat as James walks back into the room with a warm stack of fresh fliers.
“Ready to go?” James eyes the two of them with suspicion as Regulus pushes off the counter.
Regulus eyes Marlene as he follows James to the front door. Before he turns around, Marlene salutes him with a cheeky wink and mouths ‘good luck.’
They hand fliers to every passer byer as they head toward campus. They staple a few to telephone poles that have already covered their original fliers with offers for pet sitting and psychic readings and protest announcements.
It’s all very quiet. There are buskers on every corner. Loud cars driving up and down Durant and Telegraph. But all Regulus can hear is the silence between them. Regulus surprises himself when they sit down on a bench just on the edge of campus for a break, and speaks.
“Sirius told me. About what he made you promise.”
Regulus feels James hold his breath beside him. He takes far too long, only to land on a one-word answer. “Yeah.”
“Is that why you’ve been so cold toward me?”
James’ mouth quirks up as he turns his head to look at Regulus. “Have I been?”
Regulus rolls his eyes and lets his head fall back so he can stare up at the oak trees above instead of into the insistent beauty of James’ face. “You know you have been.”
James stretches out his arms, resting them both on the back of the bench. If Regulus were to let his head fall back a tiny bit more, he’d be leaning on James’ bicep. He decides not to think too much, and lets the back of his head lean into James’ arm. He tilts his face to the side so their eyes can meet.
James scoots in just an inch, so their bodies are touching just enough to exchange heat. “I’m sorry. If I made you feel like I hated you. It’s just easier that way.’
Regulus’ heart starts to drum, not fast, but hard within his chest. “Easier for who? For you, maybe. Hell for me.”
James drops his head down, so he’s resting on his own shoulder. Their foreheads are so close. Inches away from touching. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your first few months here.”
Regulus cuts him off before James’ ego can let him believe that he had total control of Regulus’ emotions. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
James lets out a breathy laugh. “Alright. Good. And I don’t hate you, obviously. I think you’re wonderful.”
“Obviously.” Regulus rolls over the word, full of sarcasm at how blatantly not obvious it is that James’ holds a high opinion of him. They both freeze for a moment, staring at each other while Regulus’ heart pumps blood so hard it almost hurts. James licks his lips, which draws Regulus’ gaze to his mouth. They both start to lean in, just the tiniest movement toward each other before James twitches away just after their foreheads finally touch.
James rises so quickly it leaves Regulus with a snapped neck and that irritation that always seems to find its way into his stomach when he’s around James.
James offers him a hand and pulls him off the bench, discarding the entire conversation that just transpired. “Let’s get back before Marlene locks us out.”
Regulus watches as James heads to the crosswalk with both of his hands in his pockets and sighs. He’s really over trying with him. It’s too damn hard. Scott will be there tomorrow tonight - he should focus on that.
The next day is a daze of preparation and final touches for the event. He barely has time to talk to James or anyone as they all run around making sure the sound is right and there’s enough beer and pizza and chairs for the night.
James and Sirius greet some friends as they stroll in. Regulus recognizes a few faces that have been at shows or have come to shop at the store. Scott walks in just as Marlene is announcing the first act and takes his spot next to Regulus. The sign-up list for the open mic filled almost immediately, with only one slot left at the end unfilled by the time the first act finishes.
There’s a mix of beat poetry and comedians, singers and musicians. Some are decent. Some are not so decent. A couple are stellar. Regulus watches them all at Scott and Remus’ side behind the seats, switching places with James now and then to help sell the beer from behind the counter. James doesn’t say a word as Regulus takes his spot behind the front counter. Not any of the three times they switch.
Marlene is a dynamic MC, commanding the room in between each set, and creating an enthusiastic environment that sells more beer and pizza than they ever imagined.
When the final sign-up finishes their song, Marlene takes the stage and grabs the mic.
“That was our last act on the sheet. But we have time for one more before the night has to end. And I was thinking, since you all seem to love my presence up here so much, that me and a good friend would send you off for the evening.”
Regulus claps along with the crowd at the idea of Marlene performing. She seems like the perfect closing act for a night like tonight. She grabs the guitar from its stand, but instead of putting the strap around herself she holds it out to the left of the stage, where none other than James himself is walking up the tiny steps to the second mic.
Oh shit.
James throws the strap around his shoulder and messes with the tuning, playing a single chord to confirm it’s correct.
Regulus holds his breath as the room quiets and both of them step up to the microphones. James starts to play a song Regulus knows well. Fucking Iris by the Goo Goo dolls. Of course it is. Leave it to James to inflict pointed torture by picking a love song. One of Regulus’ favorite love songs, at that. One they share history with.
Right as James and Marlene harmonize the first line, James finds Regulus’ gaze in the crowd and holds it through the first lyrics.
‘I’d give up forever to touch you. Cause I know that you feel me somehow.’
James lets his eyes fall to Scott before he breaks eye contact for the rest of the song, letting Marlene sing a majority of the words and only harmonizing on the chorus. Regulus can barely breathe watching him up there. He looks so soft. So gentle compared to the way his beauty usually stuns and intimidates. He doesn’t smile as he plays, only letting a tiny quirk of his lips slip through when Marlene hits a perfect note. Regulus feels like he’s staring at a work of art stored behind glass. Something he’d want to get closer to. To examine its details, but is stuck on the outside looking in.
Regulus can’t help but stare and gape, until the very last line of the song, when James’ eyes fall to his once again. He and Marlene both softly sing the last lyrics gently.
‘I just want you to know who I am.’
When the last chord rings out, the crowd erupts around them. Regulus doesn’t move. Doesn’t join in the celebration of the clear best act of the night. He just swallows hard as his throat goes completely dry.
Scott kisses Regulus’ cheek on the way out and lets him know where he’ll be once Regulus has finished cleaning the store. Scott is so straight forward. Never pressuring him, but always inviting him. He’s plain about his interest and affection, and plain that he’s open to see where it may go with them, without asking Regulus for any kind of commitment to only him. He’s good. Great, even.
The song leaves Regulus half-stunned as the rest of the crowd filters out, till it’s just him James and Marlene left in the store. Marlene squeals at their success, profusely thanking them for offering to clean-up as she runs through the front door to bask in the success of her night.
Regulus feels suffocated as he starts to go through the motions of moving everything back into place, cleaning up spilled beer, and taking things apart while James counts cash behind the counter. Regulus' mind reels at James’ song. Trying to determine if he really saw what he saw. Or if James is just a skilled performer - serenading the audience one by one with his provocative eye-contact.
James keeps looking over, like he’s about to say something. But every time he shakes it off like he’s dispelling a chill. Returning his attention back to cleaning the store and once again leaving Regulus’ mind a cloudy puddle of muck. Why does Regulus still want him? Why is there this small part of him that thinks James is worth fighting for?
When they’re almost done cleaning, the street outside is dark, and Regulus is exhausted - physically from the cleaning, mentally from silently wishing James would just say something. Regulus starts dragging the last of the chairs to the back room, and sets them into a corner. James appears in the doorway with the lockbox, punching in the code to the safe and locking it away.
They stand a few feet apart as Regulus lingers in front of the couch. James is staring at him like a hawk looking for its dinner. Regulus cannot stand it. The tension. The fucking silence.
“You were really great tonight -”
Regulus is cut-off as James takes three fast steps across the floor and crashes into him. James' hands immediately find their place on the sides of Regulus’ neck. James must have a thing for hands around throats.
Regulus moans at the pressure around his neck and James uses the opportunity of Regulus’ mouth parting to bring their lips together, letting their tongues press against each other. Regulus already knew, deep down, that his resistance was hanging on by a thread. But he couldn’t have guessed how quickly that thread would snap the second he felt the heat of James’ mouth again.
Regulus takes a step back, half falling into the couch behind him as James lowers himself on top of him. James’ leg finds its way between Regulus’ as he slips and arm around Regulus' back and moves him higher up the couch so he can get more of his body on top of him.
Regulus arches at the pressure against him, throwing both of his arms around James back to pull him in harder. The sensation of their bodies finally feeling each other limb for limb is electric, even with the clothing in between them.
Regulus reaches for the edge of James' shirt and starts to pull it up, letting one hand land on the smooth skin below as he uses the other to lift the fabric over James’ shoulder. James pauses for a moment above him, glistening with a little sweat on his bare chest.
“Are you sure?”
Regulus nods enthusiastically below him and tosses James’ shirt to the floor. “I’m sure.”
Regulus breathes out as he moves to remove his own shirt, trying his best to focus on his own clothes. Which proves nearly impossible as James rushes down and returns his mouth to Regulus’ before moving toward his chest, then to his neck with perfect form. James is certainly a pro. No surprise there.
He continues sucking on Regulus’ neck while easily undoing the buttons on both of their pants. He stops only momentarily to slide Regulus’ pants halfway down before using his palm to put pressure between Regulus’ legs and making torturously gentle strokes above his briefs. Fuck.
James sits back onto his heels, slowly removing the rest of Regulus’ pants and starting to remove his own. Regulus sits up, with no patience once they’re both in only their boxers. He feels like he’s been waiting far longer than the months they’ve known each other to do this. Like the finish line of their game is in view.
He pushes James back so he can straddle him. The delight in James’ eyes at Regulus’ control sends a shiver down both of Regulus’ arms.
He positions himself so he can feel the hardness between them fully, and starts to grind against James as he laces his fingers into James’ hair and pulls, hard. James lets out a groan as Regulus starts his own work on James’ neck, biting into his shoulder and pressing down his hips.
James stares at him momentarily, stopping his movements. “Should I get a condom?”
Regulus stares back, wondering if this is going to be his only chance to have him. It’s what everyone has told him over and over. You get James once, then never again. But the desire is pulsing through every inch of him, and he doesn’t have the strength to wait.
“Please.”
James reaches down to his pants beside the couch and pulls out a condom and tiny bottle of lube from the back pocket. Regulus starts to laugh on top of him when he sees it.
“You keep that on you at all times?”
James smirks at him, freely and open. Shame a distant thought. “Usually.”
They both take a moment to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. What they’re about to do - after months of torturing each other in their own personal ways, intentional or not. Regulus has never had this before. The ability to joke and laugh while entangled in another person’s body. It takes away so much of the stress. The usual intimidation of being with someone new doesn’t seem to exist in someone like James. It makes Regulus feel bold. Which is why he doesn’t avert his eyes as he watches James roll the condom on and slick himself with lube.
James takes his turn to push Regulus onto his back again, making slow work of easing him into relaxing, using his slicked hands to prepare him so there won’t be any pain. An expert, indeed.
James places his fingers under Regulus’ chin so he’ll look up at him. “How do you want me?”
Regulus tilts his head from below, considering the choice before him. The way he wants to take James if this is the one time he can. He leans up and kisses him softly on the lips. He pushes James back a touch and sits up on his knees so James is behind him, craning his neck to look upon James’ face which has turned to a picture of pure desire and absolutely no control.
“Like this.”
James practically simpers as he moves toward him so his arms can wrap around Regulus’ stomach. He takes his time, taking Regulus into his hand and stoking him slowly as he positions himself properly behind him. James leans down and kisses his neck, until Regulus is moaning and his body is desperate for more. The feeling of James' hardness brushing against his back is true suffering. To have him so close but not inside of him.
“This is not the time for your games, James.”
James chuckles and places a last kiss and a gentle bite on Regulus’ shoulder as he uses his hand to guide himself to the right position. When he finally glides inside, Regulus all but loses his mind. James immediately moves his arm and places it on top of Regulus’ so both of their forearms are resting on the back of the couch. James lays his palm on the top of a Regulus’ hand, interlocking their fingers and squeezing as he thrusts in slowly, over and over, until Regulus cannot make any sound besides heavy breathing.
James dips his head into the crook of Regulus' neck, kissing him and letting his teeth graze across the paper-thin skin. The tiny burst of pain sends Regulus to the edge as he starts to shake. James lets a breathy laugh out as the moans dispel from Regulus’ throat like a waterfall. He’s clearly enjoying seeing how undone Regulus has become under his control.
James increases his speed, pushing in and out a new angle that makes Regulus’ vision blur over as he rides out the waves of pleasure. He feels James' body tighten around him as James lets out a low groan right into his ear. His arm tightens around Regulus’ stomach. One hand grasps into the skin of his hip while the other tightens around the hand he still holds. Regulus squeezes his hand back until James finishes his own panting.
Regulus lets his forehead fall forward and rest on the couch as James pulls out of him. He stays there, listening to James discard the condom and shuffle on the floor. Regulus turns and collapses to the couch in time for James to toss him his boxers. They both slide them on before James lowers himself to the couch next to Regulus and pulls him into his chest.
Regulus did not expect this. The afterwards. The tenderness. He figured James would be out the door by now. James kisses the top of his head and makes slow circles on Regulus’ back with his nails.
Regulus looks up at James from his chest, surprised to find his gaze soft and sweet. He doesn’t look like he’s in any hurry to get out of here, despite that being his signature move.
Regulus closes his eyes as James starts to massage into his shoulder.
Regulus lets a soft moan out at the tension leaving his muscles. “That feels nice.”
James rests his head down onto Regulus’ as he continues his work on his shoulder. “You’re amazing.”
Regulus starts to laugh against his chest. “Incredible. Amazing. You sure are a charmer today.”
James pauses his massaging and uses his hand to lift Regulus’ chin so he’s looking directly into James’ face. “I mean it. You’re kind of a stunning person, all around.”
Regulus rolls his eyes. This must be how he breaks people’s hearts. Making them feel special, physically and mentally, before never calling them again. “You say that to all the boys?”
James’ lips tilt into a sad slant. He shakes his head a bit. “No,” he says firmly. “I don’t.”
Regulus decides to believe him. Why not? He can bask in the glory of being special to James, if only for the night.
James sighs and scoots back a bit, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I’m serious, Reg.” He makes a vague gesture between them. “I don’t do this. The talking. The cuddling. I make that very clear before getting involved with anyone. Aftercare, sure. But intimacy, no”
Regulus pulls his own legs up and hugs his knees. “I know. I got it. I’m not expecting anything.”
James shakes his head, a frustrated sigh releasing from his mouth. “You’re not hearing me. I don’t sleep with people I actually like.”
Is he going back to being a fucking jerk?
“But I like you.”
Oh.
There’s a hint of fear in James’ words. A curt desperation that Regulus did not expect. He had no idea - that after they finally did the deed that he would be the one holding some power. That he would be the one needing to reassure the other and offer the care they needed.
“I like you too.” Regulus reaches his hand across his bent legs and places it on James’ knee, letting his fingers graze his skin with gentle scratches. James’ face melts into vulnerable hope. The image burns into Regulus’ heart. The face of a man who refuses to show himself to his lovers, offering him a peek behind the veil that separates James from the world of love.
“Do you need to go meet Scott?”
Regulus chuckles a bit. “No.”
He and Scott had a brief, vague conversation about what was happening between them the morning after Regulus slept over. To the conclusion that neither of them wanted a boyfriend, or exclusivity, or expectations. So no, Regulus doesn’t need to go anywhere. He needs to stay right where he is, enjoying the glow of not only getting the wish he’d tried so hard to bury, but realizing that James is offering him a bit more of himself than just his body.
They stay on the couch for another hour, running their hands over each other and talking like old friends who’ve known each other for years. Every minute that passes is a surprise. How easily the banter comes. How they can joke without being mean. The small ways James starts to open up and bear just a little of his soul.
Regulus feels for the first time that he can ask questions and may get an honest answer from James. So he lands on one - just a simple question to see where they stand. He tries to be casual. To turn it into a silly afterthought, and not the raging need for clarity that it really is.
“What changed your mind? About making a move? Or was it just your ego, seeing me with someone else?”
James stares at him from across the couch. Across where their legs are still tangled together after they separated to their own sides. “My mom.”
Regulus quirks an eyebrow, confused how James’ mum has anything to do with what just transpired.
“I sort of told her about you. Well, about me. That I was struggling over a boy I wasn’t sure I was ready to get involved with.”
Vague.
“She said ‘a hundred fleeting moments with strangers can’t hold a candle to one with someone special.’”
Regulus' jaw starts to hurt from clenching it too tight. “You’re so lucky. To be able to be so open with her.”
James moves across the couch and flops into Regulus' arms. “I know. And she’s right. She usually is. Just don’t tell her I said so.”
Regulus can’t help the little smile that forces its way through at the idea that Regulus would ever have an opportunity to tell James’ mum anything. To meet her. To know someone like that; who loves their children so unconditionally. Who offers sound advice and pushes them to take worthy risks. It’s a fantasy of a future he’d never really thought about before. Having all the little details other couples get, like meeting parents.
When they finally redress and head back toward the apartment, they walk beside each other but don’t grab each other’s hands like Regulus expected.
James pauses at the door before opening it, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Look, if you want to tell Sirius, I’m okay with that. But…” James trails off, looking down at the ground.
Regulus hadn’t thought about that part yet. What bringing Sirius into the mix might mean for them. If he’d care. Or if he’d be upset. He’d certainly have an opinion. Regulus can see the strife plaguing James. At bringing another person into this, so soon after it began. Changing the dynamic of the house. Letting other people see this side of James he works so hard to protect. So he speaks for the both of them, to offer James some peace. To let the night stay as it is: perfect.
“Let’s not tell him yet.” Regulus can see the immediate relief that falls over James’ face. “Might be hot? Having our own little secret.”
James leans in and kisses him, gently and chaste. “Agreed.”
So Regulus lets James wander back to his own bedroom and collapses on the couch. The rest of the house is quiet, surely already asleep in the late hour. Regulus stares at the ceiling with his hands interlaced behind his neck. He lets his head fall to the side, staring down the dark hall where James' light creeps through the crack below his door. He would like to tiptoe down there. To crawl into bed with him. To wake-up to his scent and his arm around him. But this is okay, for now. This is enough.
Notes:
There is no cheating in this fic - I don't do infidelity unless very explicitly stated. Scott will be okay, because he's a good communicator who asks for what he needs. And all parties are using protection, as they are not exclusive. (Background agreements about safety didn't make it in, so throwing that information in here because it's important).
Chapter 11: White Horse Inn
Summary:
A piece of queer history. A confession. A horrible soundtrack to a beautiful moment.
Notes:
CW: E-for-explicit warning continues in this chapter
CW: Panic attacks
CW: Mention of drug use
CW: Difficulty surrounding coming-out
*If you have ever had a hard time regarding keeping a relationship secret prior to coming-out, lost friends or family from coming-out, or are triggered by coming-out difficulties, please take care reading this chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Berkeley, CA & Oakland, CA - June 1999
Regulus wasn’t wrong. What he and James have been doing behind everyone’s back is undoubtedly hot.
It’s intoxicating - waiting for each other and never knowing when they’ll be alone next. Stealing glances. Purposefully wearing something to drive the other one mad. Licking chocolate or cream cheese or whatever off their own fingers when the other is staring from across the room.
Regulus has taken to putting his own hands around his throat every time he needs to crack his neck. Knowing it’ll drive James insane that he can’t put his own hands there instead.
Whispers of “you’ll pay for that” as James passes Regulus in the hall. Sticky notes scribbled with ‘I thought about you before bed last night’ left on James’ bedside table.
It’s all addicting.
But it’s stressful too, if he’s being honest. All addictions are, as you bide your time until your next fix. It’s been weeks of waiting for all their housemates to leave. To give them an hour or two of privacy. Every time the last of them walks through the door, James and Regulus collide. It’s like a fever dream - how quickly James will appear from his bedroom. Sometimes pulling Regulus down the hall to his bed, other times having such little patience that he drops him directly onto the couch and risks one of their roommates returning to find them in very compromised positions.
Every time they’re finished, James pulls Regulus in and holds him for shockingly lengthy amounts of time. Each time James lies there stroking his fingers along Regulus’ arm, or brushing his hands through his hair, Regulus wonders if James’ stringent rules about what he allows with casual hook-ups actually left him a bit touch-deprived. Always getting the sex, but never the comfort. Regulus makes a point to wrap James up and return the favor, pressing his open palms into every inch of his skin as they lay in one room or another. To give him the type of touch that is just that - a way to show someone you’re there. That you’re close.
Remus’ voice snaps Regulus out of his daydreaming about James’ skin.
“I think it’s time to take Regulus to White Horse.”
Regulus tilts his head, waiting for an explanation for why Remus’ words sound a little dangerous. James and Sirius exchange a troublesome glance just as Peter and John grow grins touched with misbehavior. They all break apart with no further explanation, preparing to ready themselves for whatever trouble they’re planning.
James comes out of his room first, wearing just his overalls. Nothing underneath. And he’s wearing his glasses for once, which he knows drives Regulus into a wild state of want. Jesus. Regulus supposes it makes sense. It’s sweltering out, at least by Bay Area standards. But must he torture him?
Sirius and Remus are both wearing band t-shirts. Sirius’ is cut at the bottom and at the sleeves, allowing an inch of his skin to peek through on his stomach and leaving his arms completely exposed. Peter and John come out in bright colored t-shirts tucked into their jeans. Sensible as always.
“I need to stop by Dave on the way to the bus.”
Regulus quirks an eyebrow. “Dave?”
James almost moves to throw an arm around Regulus before catching himself. “Yeah. The guy who lives on the corner of Durant and Telegraph. I haven’t given him his five bucks this week yet.”
Regulus can’t help the smile that pushes through. James gives the same man a five dollar bill every week. He’ll stop and chat with him for upwards of an hour if he has time. Regulus has never seen anyone in London treat someone who lives on the street like that before. Like a human. Like an equal.
They take the wrong way down Telegraph. They stop at Top Dog and James grabs two bratwursts. He eats one as they walk, then hands the other to Dave along with his weekly $5. The detour causes them to take the bus from a further stop than needed, but no one complains. As the bus heads back down Telegraph toward Oakland, Dave waves at them all through the window as they find their seats.
It’s not unusual that Regulus and James end up seated together on public transportation. When you’re out with two couples, the two single people tend to get paired together whether they want to or not. But it’s difficult, every time. Feeling their thighs touching, bouncing off each other when the bus hits a speed bump.
James likes to make sure it’s difficult when he can. Like now, as he trails his fingers over the top of Regulus’ hands for just a second before pulling it away. James turns around in his seat, resting on his heels so he can talk to Sirius and Remus behind him. With the cover of the seat, it’s easy for James to sneak a touch here and there. Letting his hand slip under Regulus’ sleeve. A quick squeeze of his forearm. Torture. Properly mean.
When James finally turns back around, Regulus can barely resist the desire to retaliate. So he waits until everyone is distracted and leans in just enough to whisper one of James’ favorite lines into his ear. “I’m going to make you pay for that later.”
James takes a sharp inhale and accidentally lets his hand grab into Regulus’ thigh, digging in to the point of pain. And Regulus knows he’s won this round of their teasing.
The bus ride is longer than usual. Few of them venture outside of Berkeley limits often besides Peter when he spends the night at John’s. They pull up to their stop and hop off in Oakland. To a part of Telegraph that is quieter and cleaner than their little block of junkyard. More neighborhood and less business. They walk a block down till the White Horse Inn sign comes into view. It’s inconspicuous. Just a white building with a maroon awning in the front that could be confused for a bed and breakfast.
James raises his eyebrows at Regulus as he holds the door open for him. The second the door is cracked; an ABBA song blasts into the street.
Regulus spots the disco ball first, cascading light over a packed dance floor. The outfits range from cowboy to leather to suits. This is a ‘come as you are’ kind of place by the looks of it. He sees pool tables off to the side, and a stage toward the back with a microphone on it.
The more he studies the crowd, the more the realization starts to unfold. There are men kissing each other all over the room. Women with their arms around other women. Men in dresses. Women in suits. People whose gender could be either or neither.
Holy shit. This is a gay bar.
Regulus looks at James just as the realization hits him. His eyes sparkle with delight at Regulus’ dumbfounded reaction. James moves closer, enough so Regulus can hear him over the music.
“One of the only gay bars in the East Bay. Been around since the 30s, maybe even before.” James tilts Regulus’ face back toward the dance floor so he can take in the wonder of it all again. “Welcome to a piece of Bay Area queer history.”
The night starts off as a blur. Shots get ordered almost immediately. Sirius drags James to the dancefloor while Remus and Regulus find a semi-quiet corner before sneaking outside for a cigarette. John is insistent that Peter joins for at least one dance throughout the night, to a song of his choosing. The music moves from disco to alt-rock to pop to country, giving everyone a piece of what they want. The entire place is downright gleeful. Regulus has never seen the likes of it before.
The drunker Regulus gets, the harder it is to peel his eyes away from wherever James is in the room. He turns from the bar, watching him and Sirius twirl each other around below the disco ball. If he can’t touch James, watching him so carefree and joyous is the next best thing. One of the straps of James’ overalls comes undone as he jumps, hanging a corner of the denim off his body and exposing part of his chest. A missing strap shouldn’t be enough to make Regulus feel this distressed. But here he is, practically buckling at the knees while watching that small square of exposed skin.
A sudden voice makes Regulus jump.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Regulus turns to the handsome stranger in a cowboy hat to his left. His face looks kind, and far more sober than Regulus’ probably does. “Sure, thanks. I’m drinking beer, mostly.”
The man waves down the bartender and orders two beers. He hands one to Regulus. “I’m Frank.”
Regulus clinks their glasses together. “Regulus.”
“You here with someone, Regulus?” Frank stumbles a bit over his unusual name.
Regulus averts his eyes to James, who’s caught his gaze from across the room. Technically speaking, he’s not here with anyone in any official capacity.
“Nope,” Regulus replies casually.
Frank smiles at him, and they fall into an easy and casual conversation. He’s nice. He doesn’t put his hands on Regulus. He doesn’t lean in or make inappropriate comments. Regulus gets a bit lost in the conversation, finding Frank surprisingly interesting.
It seems the night is trying to ply Regulus with other options - because it’s Scott who appears at the bar next. He doesn’t notice Regulus and the cowboy at first, but once he has a drink in his hand, he freezes momentarily when he catches Regulus at his side.
“My star.” Scott has his usual sweet smile on his face. He’s too nice. Regulus never called again after the open mic night. Never stopped by the apartment. Didn’t make any kind of effort. And yet here Scott is, being kind and flirty and friendly as if Regulus didn’t completely abandon him.
“Scott, this is Frank. We just met.”
The two men shake hands, and Frank graciously allows Scott in on their conversation. The three of them chat for a while, before Frank floats away, called by friends near the door.
Regulus feels a bit awkward now that he and Scott are alone. What is he supposed to say to the perfectly decent person whose only fault is that he is not James?
“Scott, I just wanted to say -”
Scott immediately cuts him off with a casual wave-off. “Regulus, I know what you’re going to say. Let me save you some grief. I’m not upset. We had fun. We didn’t make any commitments. We’re all good.” He nods his head toward the dance floor where James and Sirius are still lost in the music. “And I see the way you look at him.”
Scott’s smiles as they both look over at James. He seems genuine. Truly okay that their brief fling was just that - brief. Light. Easy. Why can’t Regulus want someone like that? Someone direct and easy to read?
“Is it obvious?”
Scott pats Regulus on the shoulder. “It’s always obvious when someone you're looking at is looking at someone else.”
Regulus looks at his feet before Scott puts a hand under his chin to lift it again.
“I hope it works out between you two. James has a bit of a reputation. Even I know about it. You deserve someone who treats you well, and makes you feel safe. So as long as he can give that to you, I’m good.”
Regulus is purely shocked at this level of insight and generosity. At how quickly their conversation becomes friendly again once they drop the James topic. Regulus likes Scott in this way too - as a friend. An easy person to talk to in a crowded bar.
He forgets momentarily where he is, happy to have a real conversation over a cold beer. Until he spots James pushing through the crowd. He brushes by where Regulus and Scott are chatting and slams the front door open on his way out.
Regulus furrows his brow, politely excusing himself from the conversation and following James onto the street. When he gets outside, he looks around and can’t see James anywhere. He wanders past the smokers, and finds a little alleyway leading into total darkness.
A tiny rustle of noise draws him down the alley, until Regulus finds James leaning against the wall in a tiny brick alcove. He starts to move closer until he hears how hard James is breathing.
This is new.
“Are you okay?”
James’ chest is heaving as he makes panicked eye contact with Regulus. He struggles to get his words out. “I don't think so.”
Regulus takes a small step forward, trying to make out James’ face more clearly in the shadowy light. “Can I help?”
James just shakes his head over and over. He starts rubbing at his temples as his breathing starts to get shorter. Fuck.
Regulus closes the gap between them and throws his arms around James. James lets his head fall onto his shoulder, and Regulus can immediately feel how fast his heart is beating. Regulus squeezes his body tightly, suppressing his nervous system as best he can. Something Sirius had done for him a few times in their youth when he lost his own ability to breathe. He holds James there until he can feel his chest start to slow and begin taking full breaths.
“Sorry,” James whispers as he finally pulls out of Regulus’ iron grip.
Regulus looks at him with a slanted smile. “Don’t apologize. It can get overwhelming in there.”
James chuckles and wipes a bit of sweat off his forehead. “It’s not that. I don’t mind the crowd.”
Regulus leans against the wall on the other side of the alcove, mildly wishing he had a cigarette on him. “Was it me?”
James stares at him from below hooded eyes. “Maybe.”
“Because of the cowboy?”
James shakes his head again.
“Was it because of Scott?”
James’ nod is barely perceivable. Regulus can admit he’s a little shocked. He knew James was a little possessive. It gave reason for his hot and cold moods. But considering his history, he didn’t expect genuine panic. Especially not to this extent, sending him into the street unable to breathe.
Regulus could be annoyed. He could tell James that his double standard for Regulus’ behavior is ridiculous or unfair. But something in James' face tells him this isn’t simple jealousy. This is something more. A fear that runs deep inside of James’ soul.
Regulus reaches across the space and takes James’ hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth, knowing how comforting he finds an innocent touch. He pulls James back into his arms and kisses the side of his head.
“I don’t want anyone else, James. We were just talking. Catching-up. We haven’t seen each other since the open mic night.”
James lets out a heavy sigh and finally wraps his arms around Regulus, returning his affection and loosening his muscles. “Will you take me home?”
Regulus nods against James’ hair and starts to lead him back toward the street.
They arrive home at 11:00. Three hours before they were intending to and three hours before anyone else will likely stumble drunkenly through the front door. James moves for the fridge and grabs a bottle of white wine instead of his usual beer. He pulls two glasses out of the cupboard and pours extremely full glasses for both of them.
“Fire escape?”
Regulus nods and follows James towards the window. The air is cool and crisp now that night has fallen. Regulus runs into the living room to grab a blanket before climbing out the window. He throws it over James, who’s skin is still exposed from his lack of a shirt and half open overalls. James opens a side of the blanket for Regulus as he sits. An invitation so they can bundle together beneath the warmth.
James takes three long gulps of the wine before setting it beside him and looking up at the sky. “I get panic attacks.”
Regulus looks at James for a second before realizing that James is likely staring upward to avoid eye contact during his confession. So Regulus leans his head back too, and lets James say the words to the stars instead of to him.
“Before I came to Berkeley, there was this guy. Back home in LA. My best friend from childhood. We were inseparable our entire lives. Then freshman year of high school we kissed one day. Out of the blue. Or I guess not out of the blue for me. I think I was already in love with him at that point.”
Regulus hugs his knees tighter, knowing the exact feeling. The pining. The longing. The fear that they will reject you. Or out you. Or god forbid get violent.
“It happened a bunch that year. We’d be hanging out, doing homework or something, and just kiss. We never talked about it for a long time. Until we finally did. Neither of us were ready to tell anyone or come out. We were babies, like fifteen or something. So we just kept it a secret. We had this entire relationship behind closed doors. Our first everything. First time having sex, first time saying I love you. All of it. It was so good, even if it was in the dark.”
Regulus can already feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He desperately wants to reach out and touch James’ knee, but he stays still, and lets him continue the story of his life. Of how he came to be this person.
James shakes his head a bit at the memories swimming in his eyes. “Anyways. When school was almost over, we had to make a decision. We’d been together for three fucking years at that point and still no one knew. I was ready. To tell my parents. To tell everyone. But he wasn’t. We got into a huge fight when I told him I was going to tell my parents I was gay whether he wanted to do the same or not. He said if anyone knew about me they’d automatically know about him too. He called me selfish, threatened to tell everyone I was lying if I ever told people about us. The works. The worst part is I couldn’t even be mad. He wasn’t ready and I didn’t want to force him. So I just suffered in silence. Waiting for something that never came.”
Regulus can’t help it. He has to touch him. To let him know he feels everything that James is feeling. He moves his hand to James’ knee and squeezes it.
James’ head falls to the side and their eyes finally meet. There’s a tiny bit of water lining the corner of James’ eyes. Even in his despair, he's the most beautiful fixture to gaze upon. The kind of art that steals your breath, and causes pain and confusion, but makes its way into history books and museums for centuries of onlookers.
He gives Regulus a deeply pathetic half smile before returning his eyes to the sky, but not before laying his own hand on top of where Regulus’ rest.
“We haven’t spoken since I left for college. Not once. Literally fifteen years of friendship and three years together and it was just over. I almost flunked out of school freshman year. I was doing a fuck ton of drugs, just trying to dull it all. Until I met Remus, I didn’t really know if I could trust anyone ever again. But he helped me through it. Helped get me to the library. Helped bring me back to life. Sirius and Peter too, once we met them.”
James takes a big inhale, preparing for the final part of his story. “That’s why I don’t do the dating thing. I’ve tried a couple times over the years in college. But then this always happens. I get nervous. My brain just refuses to accept that I can’t control the future. So I just make sure there’s no future to worry about. Does that make sense?”
Regulus nods his head before leaning it down on James’ shoulder. “It makes sense. I get it, James. I really, really get it.”
James brings his arm around Regulus’ shoulder. He grabs for his wine with his other hand and takes another long sip. “You scare me.”
Regulus almost laughs. Because of how deeply intimidated he was by James when he first walked down the hallway. He supposes that everyone is scared of something. Everyone has their secrets and their private ways that they make life easier and simpler. This is James’ something. The dark baggage that he carries every day, which tells him not to get too close to anything real.
Regulus shifts under the blanket, pushing off the metal below and standing. He offers James both hands and pulls him to his feet. “Let’s go inside.”
They crawl through the window and discard their glasses in the sink on the way to James’ room. Regulus sits on the edge of the bed while James runs a hand over his CD collection. “What do you want to listen to?”
Regulus lays back onto the mattress. “You pick.”
“Alright, but you asked for it.”
Regulus hears the click of the play button. Under the Bridge by the Red Hot Chili Peppers starts to play. Regulus sits-up immediately. “No, why?”
James raises his eyebrows. “What is your problem with RHCP?”
Regulus groans and falls back to the bed. “All of their songs are about doing drugs in California.”
James lowers himself to the bed and lays back beside Regulus. “I know. It’s perfect.”
Their heads fall to the side and James reaches across his body and lays it on Regulus’ cheek. “I’ll distract you so you won’t even know what’s playing.”
Regulus smirks as James rolls on top of him and lets his full weight drop onto Regulus’ body. His hand wanders down to Regulus’ waist and slips under his t-shirt. They kiss for a few minutes before James stands beside the bed. It’s art - how James undoes the second button of his overalls and lets them fall to the floor in one smooth motion.
James makes quick work of undressing Regulus and throwing his clothing to the floor. They laugh in between their tongues in each other’s mouth, a bit sloppy from the alcohol in their blood.
James guides Regulus’ head to the pillows and trails down his stomach with his tongue, then back up again. He takes him into his hand first, making Regulus’ back arch into the touch. When his mouth replaces his hand Regulus throws his head back, letting a shameless groan slip from his mouth as James adds pressure with his tongue. Regulus is going to implode if he keeps going.
James stops just before Regulus loses it, knowing exactly what he’s doing with his torturous pause. He kisses Regulus’ neck and reaches for the drawer beside his bed, finding the condoms and lube that he always keeps there.
James looks at him from above, hovering over his body. “Your turn?”
Regulus’ eyes go wide with surprise. He’s topped before, but it’s rare. Very rare. Guys usually just assume what he likes because he’s smaller, and gentle, and listens to love songs.
James’ eyes swim with unholy desire at Regulus’ surprise. “I believe you promised me a little payback from my actions on the bus.”
Regulus takes the condom between his fingers and leans in to bite James’ shoulder - an impure act to match James’ impure eyes. “Fuck yes.”
James turns and falls to the bed. He watches as Regulus rolls the condom on himself and drips lube onto his hand. James’ gaze never leaves where Regulus’ hand strokes, touching himself and purposefully drawing it out to make James agonize over having to wait.
Regulus climbs over with a leg on each side of James’ hips. He trails his slick fingers down his stomach and returns the patience James gave him, making sure he’s ready and all but begging for more.
“Ready?”
The smirk that crosses James’ face is downright a sin. He nods his head as Regulus positions himself between his legs. He moves in slowly, inch by inch, soaking in every moan from James’ mouth as he pushes further and further. James’ neck cranes as he stays inside of him without moving, pulling James hips into him from below. The feeling of being inside of James barely allows Regulus the mental strength to tease. He wants to make it slow, make it torturously slow. But he’s not that strong. He has to move.
When he’s found his rhythm, Regulus leans up and supports himself with one hand on the mattress, leaving enough space for him to reach between them and tease James with his fingers as they go. When he wraps his fingers around James and starts to stroke him in rhythm with his thrusts, James’ gaze lands on Regulus’ face with a slack jaw. James’ thighs press into the sides of Regulus’ body as he looks down at what Regulus is doing to him. He licks his lips, watching Regulus move in and out with the stare of a hunter. Regulus has a sudden realization, and moves his hand from between them up to James’ neck. He lays his palm on James’ throat, just barely adding pressure.
Out of nowhere, James starts to buck from under him. James’ arms wrap around his back, pulling him into his chest. He whispers directly into Regulus’ ear. “Harder.”
Regulus is blind with pleasure as he moves faster, relinquishing himself fully and burying his body within James. James was right. Regulus can’t even hear the music over their shared moaning and heavy breathing. All he can hear is James’ inhales getting shorter and shorter, which takes Regulus right to the edge with him. Regulus comes just as James lets out a final long groan and throws his head back to the pillow.
They lay there, chest to chest, panting and sticky for several minutes before Regulus pulls out slowly. He loves the sight of it. James lying there, unable to move. Barely able to open his eyes as Regulus cleans them both up and climbs back onto the bed.
James immediately pulls Regulus back into his chest, kissing his hair and taking his always desperate need for human touch outside of sex.
Regulus loses himself in the touch and the scent and the horrible fucking music he can now hear again. He gazes up at James, who looks so fragile he could break with a tiny flick of Regulus’ fingers.
Regulus places his hand on James’ chest, looking away before speaking. “You scare me too.”
Notes:
Next update will be Monday July 3rd :)
Chapter Text
Berkeley, CA & San Francisco, CA - June 27, 1999
It was bound to happen eventually. Regulus tries to sneak out of James’ room before they fall asleep, but it’s hard. Sometimes he’s so exhausted from hours of wrapping himself around James’ body and barely breathing that the idea of standing makes him dizzy.
Regulus opens his eyes to the sound of Sirius’ voice muffled and panicked in the hall.
“Regulus never came home. Again! It’s eleven! Do you think he’s okay?”
Regulus nudges James as Remus’ voice breaks through the thin barrier of an unlocked door between them. “I’m sure he’s fine Sirius. He’s a big boy.”
Sirius' volume increases as he knocks on James’ door. “James! We have to go search for Regulus! He is missing!”
James blinks awake, eyes wide. He sits up and shrugs, knowing what’s about to happen. He whispers into Regulus’ ear. “Maybe we at least put some clothes on?”
Regulus nods, and searches for the first shirt he can find on the floor, which is one of James’ t-shirts that swallows him. He slips on his own pants while James dresses on the other side of the bed and messes with his hair.
They approach the door together and pause. James puts his hand on the doorknob. “Ready?”
Regulus sighs. “I guess.”
James turns the knob and swings the door open. Sirius short circuits when his eyes land on James, then on Regulus. His eyes dart back and forth between them for at least a full minute as he stutters over one syllable.
Sirius finally shakes himself from his shock. “Well, well. He finally got to you, I see.” Sirius sighs, lifting his shoulders up dramatically on the inhale. “It was bound to happen eventually. It’s only one night, yes?” Sirius puts a hand on each of their shoulders. “I forgive you both.”
James eyes Regulus from the corner of his gaze before starting to laugh. He pushes past Sirius toward the bathroom, and just before shutting the door behind him, James hollers from next to the sink. “This wasn’t the first time. Or the second. Or the tenth.”
As James closes the door, Sirius sprints towards the bathroom and starts banging on the door from the hall. “What do you mean not the first time? James? James!” The pounding increases in speed, both of his fists banging into the wood. “Really James? You finally broke a three year one-night-stand streak and it had to be with my little brother?!”
Remus is smirking from the other side of the hall, waving Regulus over to leave Sirius and James to their dramatics. Peter and John are at the table, eating bagels that Peter surely brought over and giggling quietly.
Regulus sits in an empty chair as Remus hands him a half of a bagel already ready with cream cheese. “Nice Cal shirt.”
Regulus narrows his eyes at Remus. “Leave it.”
“Oh absolutely not. Details. When? How? Where? What positions?”
Regulus shakes his head, heat searing into his cheeks. Remus pats his shoulder, apparently loving watching him squirm under the attention.
“You’re lucky we have less than an hour till we need to catch BART, otherwise this would be a full-blown interrogation. Was that more than ten times I heard James say?”
Regulus takes a bite out of his bagel just as Sirius comes into the kitchen. Sirius takes a sip from a coffee mug and stares into Regulus’ soul. Regulus waits for whatever hell Sirius is going to give him now. He braces himself, and puts his bagel down.
There are five beats of silence before Sirius finally throws his head back. “If he hurts you, his dead body is on your conscience, Reggie.” With the short and simple warning, Sirius turns back toward the hall to start getting ready for Pride.
Regulus wanders back into James’ room just as he’s come from the shower, towel wrapped around himself. Glistening from head to toe. Regulus takes his turn to wash-up, and by the time he gets back to the room, James is already sporting a neon outfit of golds and reds.
Regulus sighs - already knowing he won’t have anything appropriate to wear today.
“I don’t have any flashy clothes for today.”
James freezes and looks at Regulus from the other side of the bed. “Who said you have to look flashy? Wear whatever makes you feel best. That’s the whole point.”
Regulus lets James help with putting together an outfit. High-waisted corduroys, and a white shirt tucked in. Converse and a brown belt. ‘A classic look’, James called it as he kissed him on the cheek with his hands looped into Regulus’ belt.
The train toward San Francisco is packed with people in rainbow and glitter and neon. There are drag queens to the left, sweet young high schoolers who look nervous in their rainbow shirts to the right. There’s an old woman by the door who looks like she’s about to open the train doors and throw herself out to get away from the gay army surrounding her.
James calls over a young girl who’s offering face paint and whispers into her ear. She smiles and hovers over Regulus, paintbrush in hand.
Regulus almost protests, but who is he to deny James or this young girl the pleasure of giving him a new look? So he tilts his head up and lets her get to work. Sirius lets the girl's friend braid his dark waves into two braids, sticking tiny flowers into each weave as she goes. When Regulus’ face is done, James hands both girls a few dollars while Regulus stares at the train window trying to catch his reflection. Green and yellow and black glittered stars mark both of his cheeks. Not too flashy, but something to show he’s celebrating. He loves it.
A brief flash of his mother’s face passes through his thoughts. What she would say if she could see her sons, covered in flowers and glitter. Soft and sparkly and so very much alive. He leans his head against the seat and closes his eyes at the thought. That in their battle for the life the Black sons will live, Walburga has lost. Regulus doesn’t normally think of his life as a game, but as he sits on this train surrounded by the revelry, he feels like he’s won something.
They take the stairs out of the station and appear on a street that looks like a rainbow has thrown-up all over it. There are streamers floating in the sky. Balloon arches. Floats moving by over a sea of bodies cheering. A huge, hairy man in nothing more than biker shorts passes by them with a small man on his shoulders. A waterfall of glitter cascades over them as the man from above tosses handfuls of gold and pink from his palm. “Happy Pride!”
They all wave and return the sentiment as he’s carried away by his man-carriage. James puts an arm around Regulus as they start to move through the crowds. It’s the first time they’ve touched like this. Publicly. In front of everyone. Sirius shoots James a bullying look briefly before softening and pecking James on the cheek. “I’m heartbroken you’ve left me for the shorter version of me. Just so you know.”
James chuckles as his arm tightens around Regulus. “Your boyfriend is literally standing right there.”
Remus looks over at the two of them. “You can have him anytime, James. He’s a menace.”
Sirius takes a sharp inhale in at the comment, faking shock and awe. “Come on, we have like twenty blocks to where Marlene told us to meet her.”
It’s difficult for Regulus not to stop every few minutes and stare at one thing or another. He silently blesses Peter when he forces them all to stop so they can each get a hot dog from a stand whose owner is wearing a speedo that has a hotdog print all over it. Madness. Beautiful, strange madness.
Peter hands one to Regulus, then to everyone else in a line. “You all have to promise this will not be your last meal of the day. I’m looking at you, Sirius.”
Sirius is mid-swig of a water bottle filled to the brim with tequila. He puts the bottle down and takes a big bite. “Happy?”
James pulls Regulus through the crowd, past drag queens dancing to Cher, and hordes of couples making out in the middle of the street. Regulus stops to stare at a young couple dancing forehead to forehead as more floats pass behind them in the parade. They don’t even seem to notice. They’re lost in each other. Regulus’ chest feels like it’s going to burst out of nowhere. His cheeks feel tight, and he doesn’t quite understand why, but he feels tears threatening to fall.
James approaches behind him, lacing his arms around his waist and burying his nose into Regulus’ neck. “Is it too much?”
There it is. An actual fucking tear falling from his eye. He turns to look at James, shaking his head, embarrassed at his emotional reaction to the scene around them. “It’s not too much. It’s incredible.”
James grins down at him and kisses him. In public. Like it’s a normal thing to do. He had no idea. That kissing a boy could ever feel like that. Normal. Just a faceless couple in the crowd
“Drink?”
Regulus takes the water bottle from James’ hand and takes a sip of the burning alcohol. He coughs a bit before going for a second one.
On their way to search for Marlene, they pass sponsored business floats and dykes on bikes. AIDS activists and anti-animal testing banners. Purple lowriders carrying men in their sixties. Dogs with rainbow collars. Men with rainbow collars. Everything.
They finally find Marlene in the waves of moving crowds. She’s wrapped under the arm of a tall Black woman with an afro, who’s wearing an entire bodysuit of white fishnet that contrasts perfectly against her skin. Go Marlene.
“Mary,” she says as she shakes each of their hands individually. “Are you all ready?”
They all eye each other, not a clue what she’s talking about.
Remus steps up for all of them. “Ready for what?”
Marlene snickers behind Mary and turns her gaze toward a small set of stairs leading up to a float that looks halfway between a disco club and punk club. Bright pinks and skulls, painted black exes next to golden unicorns. There’s a huge banner at the back that reads 'Amoeba Music'.
Marlene puts a hand on Peter and Sirius’ shoulders. “We used the money from open mic night to pay for the parade slot.”
James’ mouth falls open next to Regulus. “No fucking way.”
Sirius is the first to sprint up the stairs, herding them all from the top of the float once he gets to the rail.
They all climb up as Mary and Marlene are passing around bottles of cold water and beer from a cooler. They all drink at least half a bottle of water at Peter’s demand before moving to the beer.
Marlene moves to the sound system and looks over at their little group. “I think this parade could use some real music. Agreed?”
She presses play as Sirius cheers and chugs the rest of the beer in his hand. Buddy Holly by Weezer starts blaring through the entire float. Half of the crowd erupts around them just as the float starts to move to join the procession of the parade.
They all find a spot against the rail so they can witness the sea of people as far as the eye can see. Regulus can hardly believe a celebration of queer joy this big is even legal. He’s never felt so right. So safe, in a crowd of humans he’s never met. All here for the same reason - to find acceptance. To know that not only are they not alone, but they are surrounded by others like them. Fuck, it is brilliant.
The music shifts to No Doubt’s Don’t Speak, which drives everyone on the float and within earshot of the speakers into a frenzy. Arms are thrown in the air. Cheers erupt from all sides. No Doubt is perhaps one of the only pop bands that Regulus agrees deserves the hype. James pulls him in as Gwen’s voice starts over the speakers. He puts his hands where they belong. One on each side of Regulus’ neck.
He pulls Regulus in and kisses him shamelessly, with thousands of people below them still cheering and hollering. Regulus knows it’s for the parade. For the song. But it doesn’t matter. As they stand there, tongue tied on top of the world, he lets the cheers be for him. For James. For how they found each other in the shuffle of a world that aims to beat them down and pretend they’ll go away some day. But nothing has ever felt so solid to Regulus as James’ hands on him. Displaying what they have to every person who matters in the entire Bay Area.
The music suddenly gets extremely loud, distracting both of them from their heated embrace. Show Me Love by Robyn begins just as they both turn to see Marlene and Peter cheering and clapping, witnessing their public display. Marlene winks at them while James shakes his head at the cheesy pop song she’s chosen as the soundtrack for their pillar of unashamed affection.
Regulus doesn’t care what’s playing. He grabs James’ hands and brings them back to his neck.
Let them watch. He’s proud of what holds him.
Chapter 13: Please stop explaining
Summary:
A heatwave. Something to consider.
Chapter Text
Berkeley, CA - July 1999
Regulus lets the breeze from the fan in James’ room blow his hair out of his face, drinking in the mild relief from the hot air suffocating their apartment. He’s unclothed, but only because it’s unbearable to wear anything in the heat. Regulus barely has the energy to turn his head in recognition when James comes in with a glass of ice water. He lowers himself to the floor behind Regulus to share in the cool air.
James brushes the hair away from the back of Regulus’ neck and presses the freezing glass against the skin underneath. The sudden shock of cold pulls a sharp inhale and gentle moan from Regulus. He lets his head fall forward as James pulls an ice cube from the glass and drags it across the skin of his neck and down his back. A few drops start rolling down his spine, giving such sweet relief.
James starts kissing his neck, following behind the trail of the Ice cube as it continues dissolving against Regulus. He could get lost in a moment like this. Too many feelings at once. Hot. Cold. Turned on. Exhausted. Content.
He’s pulled from the tranquility by Peter’s voice in the other room. “Regulus! Phone!”
Regulus groans, leaning his head back onto James’ sweaty chest. James leans his forehead down onto Regulus before moving so he can pick himself up off the ground. He throws on one of James’ tank tops that he’d left on the bed and walks into the entryway. He pulls the phone off the top of the receiver, fleetingly wishing one of them had enough money to afford a cell. It would make finding each other on the weekends so much more convenient.
He puts the phone to his ear and leans against the cool wall. “Hello?”
The sound of his mother’s sharp voice goes through him like an electric shock. He stands up straight, unconsciously presenting himself properly despite being thousands of miles away.
He lets his mom ramble on for a while, rolling his eyes to no one as she tries to be civil after months of silence. Asking after his new life. Asking after Sirius. He’s about ready to hang-up, to stop wasting his precious energy on Walburga Black, when she asks the question that she called about in the first place.
She wants Regulus to come home for a visit. To talk about his options. To talk about the inheritance she swore to him he’d never touch.
When he puts the phone back on the wall, he stares at a tiny part of the wall where the wallpaper is peeling off. Fuck.
Regulus walks down the hall in a daze, and instead of taking a right into James’ room, he passes it and opens Sirius’ door slowly. Sirius and Remus are laying on the bed in a similar fashion as he just was, dying from the heat, trying to use as little energy as possible.
Sirius sits up with an odd look on his face. Regulus almost never comes into their room. He always knocks first if he does. The look in Sirius’ eyes is clear, the clicking of something off hitting his features and pinching his brows.
“Remus, give us a minute.”
Remus looks between them for a minute before rolling off the bed and quickly closing the door behind him, leaving them to a thick silence.
Regulus sits at the very edge of the bed until Sirius has moved to his side. “What happened?
Regulus looks at him as a war starts in his chest. “It’s mum.”
Sirius holds his breath.
“She called. She wants me to come home. For a visit. She said she wants to talk about our inheritance.”
Sirius runs a hand through his hair, narrowing his eyes. “Talk about our inheritance? Thought inheritances were only for proper sons who married proper ladies?”
Regulus shrugs. He opens his mouth until the door opening captures both of their attention. James peeks around the door, wondering why he was left alone on the floor. The moment he registers the strife in Regulus’ eyes he’s on his knees in front of him, with both hands on Regulus’ knees, looking up at him with gorgeous, worried eyes.
Regulus weaves his fingers through James’ hair. “My mum called.”
Some of the worry dispels from James’ gaze. A mistake. He doesn’t know what’s coming next. “Oh. Did she…” he pauses, looking at Sirius for a moment. “Did she want to apologize?”
James. So sweet, but so naive. To think Walburga Black could ever admit to being wrong. That she would ever call for such a motherly reason. Sirius chuckles at his side as Regulus shakes his head. “She wants me to come home for a visit. To talk. Maybe apologize, I don’t really know.”
Regulus knows that the last part is a lie. But it’s what James will understand. If he’s going to let him go.
James’ brow furrows. “A visit? For how long?”
Regulus shakes his head again. “I don’t know. Maybe a couple of weeks? Maybe more.”
James drops both of his hands from Regulus’ knees. “Maybe more? Like maybe forever?”
Sirius puts a hand on Regulus’ shoulder. “No way. We wouldn’t let that happen. Reggie, you don’t have to go at all. Fuck the inheritance. We’re doing fine without her money.”
James stands suddenly. “Inheritance? This is about money? She’s trying to bribe you to come home? And what about Sirius? Is she beckoning him home all of the sudden too?”
Regulus shakes his head, again. It seems to be the only movement his body can register. “Guess she thinks I’m the weaker son. She knows he’d never accept the offer.”
“Well fuck that. Neither will you.” James sits on Regulus’ other side, scooting him toward Sirius. “Sirius is right. We’re doing fine.” He puts a hand on Regulus’ face. “Don’t go, Reg. Please.”
Regulus finally meets James’ eye. “The money. It would change our lives, James. All of us. We’d be set for life.”
It’s James' turn to shake his head. “I don’t care. What if she refuses to give it to you unless you stay longer? What if there are conditions?”
Sirius pulls Regulus’ face toward him. “You know her, Reggie. There are going to be conditions. The ‘stay in London forever’ kind of conditions. The ‘marry a girl of her choosing’ kind of conditions.”
Regulus feels trapped between them. He tries to pull in a calming breath and is met with only rough, dry pain in his chest. There’s no air in the room, sucked out from the heat and two people he loves pressuring him to give them an answer before he has time to think.
Of course he doesn’t want to go. He just got James. All of him. He’s friends with his brother. Actual friends, for the first time in their lives. He actually likes his job. He can’t believe it - but he loves California too. Even this little square of junkyard they’ve chosen for a home. But this is not a casual amount of money they’re talking about. This is real, life-changing money.
Money he could use to buy them a house. Buy Sirius that bike he always gawks at when they pass the motor shop. Buy every rare vinyl that any of them could want, even the noisy ones he’d surely hate. He’d be a fool not to consider this.
He stands, shaking both of them off of him. “I need to think.”
He can hear their protests as he dashes over to James’ room and jumps into a pair of pants. By the time Sirius and James get out to the hall, Regulus is already pulling the front door open and taking the stairs down toward Telegraph. He steps onto the street, and starts walking toward campus. He just needs to think. He just needs some time.
He passes Dave and drops some change into his cup. He passes the bars, and the laughing students. He finds a bench in the center of Sproul Plaza, just on the other side of the welcome arch. He stares at Campanile tower, and breathes.
Two weeks. Maybe a little more. For a chance to provide for his people. For himself. They would understand that, eventually. When he comes home with the money, they’ll understand. It's more than a fair trade.
Notes:
Posting note: Fic will complete July 10 2023.
Chapter 14 will post on July 6
Chapter 15 will post July 9
Chapters 16/17 will post July 10 <3
Chapter 14: The place I belong
Summary:
An accident. A car ride. A step of distance.
Notes:
CW: None in this chapter
Chapter Text
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
James is grudgingly helping Regulus pack clothes into his trunk. He was upset for days, barely able to look at Regulus in the eyes. After the fiftieth or hundredth or thousandth time Regulus promised that it would just be a visit. Just to hear her out. That he would return, on his honor. James finally gave up and offered to take him to the airport.
Regulus places his palm on top of James’ hand, stopping him from mindlessly throwing clothes unfolded into Regulus’ trunk. James pouts up at him.
“Hey. It’s just a couple of weeks. If she tries to make me stay longer, or if anything weird happens, I already have enough for the return flight. Just - think of it like I’m going on summer holiday. Couples do that, right? Spend holidays apart?”
James freezes, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Couple, huh?”
Whoops.
Regulus starts to stumble over a response until James abandons the packing and leans over the open trunk to pull Regulus’ face toward him. He places a light kiss on his lips before pushing Regulus onto the carpet below. He crawls over, laughing against his lips between pressing them together. “Couples do not take holidays apart. Couples take holidays together. At the beach. Or at a cabin. And spend weeks in bed. Not whatever this is.”
Regulus can feel James’ tone turn from a joke to something serious as he gets the last words out. He shuffles out from under James, and pulls his knees into his chest. James mirrors his position, sitting knee to knee.
James leans his head down onto his elbow. “I’m just nervous, Reg. It’s not just the time apart. It’s more than that.”
Regulus leans his head down too. “More?”
James takes a big inhale. “I’m not using this to punish you. Or convince you to stay, okay?”
Regulus nods his head, bracing himself.
James breaths out loudly. “I’ve been getting that feeling again. The panicked one. Where I can’t take a full breath, and everything feels like it’s one step away from crumbling. Like if I make one wrong move, I’m going to lose it all.” James puts his hand on Regulus' forearm and squeezes it. “It only happens…When I’m falling for someone. When I’m genuinely terrified of losing someone.”
Regulus blinks, stunned into silence until a thought forms in the hearth of his mind. So sharp and clear that it almost makes James’ huge confession silly.
He reaches across their legs and puts both of his hands on James’ cheeks. “James, look at me.”
James stares at him with fear plagued eyes.
“I fell for you months ago. Way earlier than I should have. Embarrassingly soon after meeting you. I just couldn’t do anything about it because you hated me, remember?”
James rolls his eyes and lets out a sad laugh. Because he never hated Regulus. Only the fear he instilled, of what someone like Regulus could do to James if he let someone in. And they both know it.
“You have nothing to worry about. I’m not going anywhere.”
Regulus can tell James is fighting the smile trying to get through. “Yeah, except London.”
Regulus rolls his eyes and pushes James on to his back. He straddles him and pins his arms above his head. “I will be back.” He leans down and kisses him. “Because I love you, okay?”
Regulus releases James’ wrists so he can wrap his arms around him.
James pulls him down and starts to kiss his neck. “Okay.” He buries his face into the skin of Regulus’ shoulder, so the words come out muffled and just a tiny bit sad. “I love you too.”
As they pack the car for the airport, James makes several comments that Regulus is bringing way too much stuff for a two-week trip. Regulus consoles him by telling him he just wants to swap out his wardrobe for his better clothes. The nice stuff. He promises a fashion show when he returns, which finally gets a smile out of James as he buckles his seat belt and heads toward San Francisco so Regulus can catch the direct flight.
The forty minutes to the airport are full of heavy sighs and squeezed hands. James shuffles through CDs of melancholy songs that Regulus loves, drowning out the heavy silence with various artists’ torment.
Neither of them are good at this. At saying goodbye - temporary or not. Regulus stares at the Golden Gate Bridge as they cross over the Bay Bridge and silently talks to it like a pew in church. To let him be honest. To not let his mother spoil his mind. He means it when he says he intends to return. But James wasn’t completely wrong when he saw the amount of clothing Regulus packed. He took almost all of it. Just in case.
James parks in the lot and helps him check his bags. He walks him all the way to the terminal, where families are hugging and kissing and saying their own goodbyes. James puts both of his hands in his pockets. They agreed not to kiss in the airport. It’s not like pride, or even like Telegraph, where the sea of people will cheer and smile at two men kissing in a crowd.
The step between them suffocates Regulus. This is not how lovers should part; an arm's length away. Staring awkwardly across a stretch of space they didn’t cause and don’t want to exist.
Regulus takes a breath and takes the step forward. He laces his arms through James’ and wraps him into an embrace. James releases his hands from his pockets and throws them around Regulus' shoulders. The smell of James’ hair makes it nearly impossible not to turn and taste him one more time. He closes his eyes and scrunches his face, wishing he could freeze time. Let all the bodies around them stop so they can have a moment of privacy to say a proper goodbye.
James’ hands grab the fabric of Regulus’ shirt off both shoulders, like he wants to restrain him from pulling away. From getting on the plane.
When the flight attendant announces the first group of boarders, James finally lets go. His lips are pressed together when they pull apart, causing an ache in Regulus’ chest for causing James any pain, even for a couple of weeks. Even for a moment.
“I wish we could call while you’re gone.”
Regulus pulls at the back of his neck, knowing his mother will never allow a long-distance phone call. “Me too.”
James returns his hands to his pockets. A physical restraint so he won’t reach out and take Regulus’ hand. “You’ll write?”
Regulus gives a half smile. “Of course. If I can get online, I can try to email the store. I don’t know what my mom’s computer set-up is like.”
James nods. “I’ll check it every day.”
Fuck this is pathetic.
The last boarding group starts to shuffle toward the door. They both look out the window at the plane that is ready to take Regulus away.
James leans in enough so he can whisper. “I love you.”
A shy smile creeps onto Regulus’ face. “I love you too.”
Regulus grabs his backpack off the floor and throws it around himself. He’s the very last person to walk through the door. Halfway down the air gate, he turns around before they can close the door. James stands there, staring. Regulus gives him a final nod, and turns away.
He doesn’t look back again.
He finds his seat on the plane, and drops into it. Preparing for the endless hours ahead.
Each of his roommates gave him a CD for the Walkman Marlene let him steal from Amoeba. Great Divide by Semisonic from Peter. Kettle Whistle by Jane’s Addiction from Remus. Urban Hymns by The Verve from Sirius. I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got by Sinead O’Connor from James.
He puts James’ pick in first and presses play. On the inside of the case, James scribbled in “Track 6 - Nothing Compares 2 U.” Regulus skips to the right track and lets it play.
The moment the song begins, Regulus is at the bottom of the ocean, being crushed by immeasurable tons of heavy water.
As he listens to the first line, ‘it’s been seven hours and fifteen days since you took your love away,’ Regulus feels like there’s a phantom holding his hand. A ghost of a feeling grazing his skin that he cannot quell. Regulus holds his own palms together and breathes, so he doesn’t scare the passengers around him with tears only twenty minutes into a ten-hour flight.
Chapter 15: Uncertainty stinging clear
Summary:
An email, the post, and a junkyard.
Notes:
CW: None in this chapter
Chapter Text
London, England - August 1999
Less than twenty-four hours. That’s how long it took for Walburga Black to say something that made Regulus feel like he was worth less than gum stuck to someone’s shoe. He’d only asked if her or father had an email account set-up. If he could use the internet a couple of times while he’s home. She had scoffed and rolled her eyes, and pondered why Regulus felt he deserved such privileges in her house.
Regulus spent the first few days catching-up with old friends. Calling old house phone numbers he hadn’t used in five months. Anything to get out of that house.
His friends were the same. They laughed. They reminisced. They were fascinated with Regulus’ new life in California, asking if he’d met movie stars and not understanding that Los Angeles and the Bay Area are hours apart. It wasn’t so bad. They’re good people. His people. People he’s known his entire life. But there’s a black hole in his stomach that continuously eats at him. Absence that has become physical.
It isn’t just missing James. It’s Sirius. It’s Remus and Peter, and John. Marlene and the shop. The cheap American beer and the clouds of smoke he has to walk through every time he heads out their front door.
Things he once found annoying and alien, now are something he can’t imagine living without. If you’d asked him what he thought of Berkeley five months ago, he may have called it a junkyard. Turns out a junkyard is where he feels most himself.
The decision was easy. He has to go back. He doesn’t belong in London anymore. Regulus no longer fancies himself whole unless he is in that bed with the checkered cotton sheets and the tan arms that envelop him. Walking in between his brother skipping and Remus shyly shaking his head. Listening to Peter and John take an hour to decide on a forty-minute album to listen to. He belongs to those people. He loves them.
Regulus returns home from catching-up with his uni mates and readies himself, to let Walburga know that he’s not staying the two weeks they agreed on. Consequences be damned. Inheritances be damned.
“Regulus, is that you?”
His mother has always had a sharp sense for when he or Sirius walked through the front door. Regulus fixes his hair in the entryway mirror, and heads towards the library where he knows he’ll find his mother sitting in an armchair with a cup of tea.
Regulus sits in the adjacent chair, and straightens his back. “Mother.”
“Regulus.”
“I wanted to talk to you about something.”
His mum raises a hand, silencing him. “Regulus, I think it’s clear that you are unhappy here. That you plan to return to your silly life across the pond. I don’t need to hear it.”
For a moment Regulus wonders if his mother actually sees him for once. Understands that he no longer belongs here. Sees the pain he’s in every day.
“I plan to release Sirius’ inheritance to him.”
What? Regulus stares at her. Not quite believing that his mother could have changed her ways and become generous in the short time he’s been away.
“But I have conditions.”
Fuck. Sirius’ words flood him. Because of course there are conditions. Walburga doesn’t give anything away for free. Not if it can benefit her.
“Your father has decided to run for a London councillor position. The elections are in January. He thinks having family by our side will be important for his campaign.”
Regulus holds his breath, knowing what comes next.
“If you’re willing to stay through the election, play the part of the good son. Attend events, and stay out of any trouble that would bring scandal, I will relinquish Sirius’ inheritance to him. And yours as well.”
Six fucking months.
“Think about it. Give me an answer tomorrow morning.”
Regulus walks out of the room like a Zombie. He walks out the front door and walks to the closest park. He stares at trees that are nothing compared to the oaks in Berkeley.
He spends the entire evening wandering aimlessly. Trying to convince himself not to take the deal. To just go. He pictures the fire escape that looks over Telegraph and feels the ribbon of desire pulling him toward it. Then he tries to convince himself that it’s weak - not to trade six measly months for a fortune. He pictures himself landing in California with enough funds to give his people freedom for life. He thinks of his father and his filthy political views - the hate he spews and how he leads with greed and without a semblance of heart or humanity. To stand by him, as he climbs to a position that will surely leave the world worse-off than without his leadership.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck Walburga. Fuck Orion. Fuck money. Fuck his weak disposition.
When he gets home, the house is dark and quiet, so he continues his wandering. Looking at the familiar furniture and trying to decide if he can handle six months in their company. He isn’t sure where he’s heading until he finds himself stepping into his father’s study, where the only computer in the house lives. He closes the door behind him, and sits at his father’s desk.
He used to get punished when he’d sneak in here as a child. Firmly off limits to the children.
He clicks the computer to life and waits for the internet to connect. He opens a web browser and clicks into his father’s email account. He types out the email address for Amoeba Berkeley slowly. He wasn’t sure what he would say, even as he sat in front of the computer, but as his fingers rest on top of the keyboard, the decision seems simple. It’s six months. She’s not asking for forever. This is all but reasonable by Walburga Black standards.
So he opens a new draft and begins.
Subject: For James
Body: James,
My mother has offered to release both mine and Sirius’ inheritances if I am willing to stay in London through January to see my father through a counsillor election. Before you let the thought cross your mind, I know what you and Sirius will say. You don’t care about the money. I know it’s easy to feel that way, but think about what it could do for us. Six months, in exchange for financial freedom for us all. Forever. We could do anything. Travel anywhere. Open our own record shop where we can fight over what to play every day.
Please don’t be upset. And please don’t panic. Breathe, and trust what I am saying - This is not me leaving you. I would never dream of it. I love you.
This is my father’s email, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to check it - so please don’t reply here. You have my address - send post and I'll see it as soon as it arrives.
Regulus clicks send, and goes to the outbox to delete the email so his father won’t know he’s sent anything from his personal account. He wanders back to his bedroom and crashes onto his mattress. He’ll wake in the morning to start his sentence. It’s just six months.
Unfortunately, time here is like waiting for a kettle to boil. He’s aware of every minute passing. It only took days for Regulus to get sick of cameras, flashing in his face as his father began his campaign. He’s exhausted from planting a wide, fake smile on his face and shaking hands with rich men in black suits and letting his mother introduce him to young women she’s still convinced could be suitable for him. He’s just fucking tired.
Back when Sirius used to send letters here from Berkeley, Regulus would check the post date, so he knows it takes at least a week for post to cross the pond. And it’s been two. Two fucking weeks without an answer from James. Maybe he hates him. Maybe Regulus’ email sent James into a fit, and he’s curled in a ball by his bed, silently cursing Regulus’ name for making him relive his worst memories. Perhaps Regulus is a fucking villain.
Regulus nearly passes the entryway table before a small parcel catches his eye with American stamps. James.
He grabs the envelope and dashes up to his bedroom. He closes the door, and rips open the seal like his life depends on it. He shakes out its contents onto his perfectly made bed and stares at it for a moment.
It’s a CD. And a sticky note. There’s no cover art, which is strange. It looks almost homemade.
‘This album doesn’t come out for another month. Got an early copy at Amoeba. Incubus, Track 8 - Drive. Ps - I miss you so much it hurts.’
That’s it. No begging for him to return. Not even an ‘I love you’. Fuck.
Regulus hops off the bed and places the disc in the stereo. He skips seven tracks till he gets to track 8 and lets it play. The guitar is sad, and slow. He situates himself back on the bed, and grabs the empty case, just to hold something that recently touched James’ hands.
Right as the chorus starts, he flips the case over and sees black permanent ink written on the back of the plastic. He reads the matching lyrics James wrote and underlined just as the lyrics fill the room.
‘Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there.’
Chapter Text
London, England - October 1999
When Regulus was a child, he always thought his parents would be a part of his life until their bitter end. There never seemed like another choice. It was built into his DNA, in the pages of a life not yet written. Regulus was an adult when he started wondering if there would come a day where he could be free of his mother’s hand. That he may be better off without her.
Regulus wonders if he’s just an insubstantial person. Twenty-one years old and still able to be swayed by the whims of his mother with barely a fight. He closes his eyes for a moment, and thinks about what his life has devolved to over the last couple of months. Hollow, unfulfilling, bullshit. He’s exchanged exactly three letters back and forth from Berkeley. He doesn’t blame them - international post is costly. He always saves James’ notes for last. Savoring them like he’s dying in a desert and James’ words are his last bit of water.
Regulus has been staring at the stereo for at least thirty minutes. Trying to decide what to play. His mind has been on autopilot for weeks - going through the motions, but not experiencing the world around him. Not interacting with it in any meaningful way. He’s fucking sick of it. He just wants to feel something.
So he finally pulls out Savage Garden’s self-titled album. Because if you need to feel something, Truly Madly Deeply is the song that will do it, despite the absolute sap and angst that pours from each sound.
He pushes the CD in and presses play, skipping the first two tracks to get to the one he wants. He closes his eyes again and leans his head against the cushion of the armchair behind him.
Before he can doze off, he hears footsteps on the other side of the door and turns the knob to almost maximum volume. As loud as he can stand. The muffled sounds of confused, possibly angry voices almost break through the music - but not enough to hear the words.
It was something his father said about his campaign that finally made Regulus realize what it means to have power. To have some agency. Orion Black made a fleeting comment that Regulus would be nothing without the inheritance they were offering. That Regulus would be lucky for the opportunities to meet important and powerful people once his father was elected. Regulus knew at that moment that his parents would never give-up the money. That they’d keep dragging him along if it suited them, because they believe him worthless without what they provide for him.
Orion unknowingly gave Regulus the key to a locked door he’d never even tried to open before. Because he already was something. Without the money. Without his parents. He meant something to James. To his brother. To Remus, and to Peter. To Marlene, and John, and even to Scott.
He has power. Because his parents claimed that without him, that without the presence of their children, they could not succeed in their quest for political power. They need him, just as much as they think he needs their money.
The door finally swings open - and the angry voices come barreling through the door.
“I may have taken too many mushrooms, because I think Regulus Black is sitting on the floor of our apartment listening to devastating music.”
Remus stands there, staring at Regulus with a contorted face. Sirius almost runs into Remus’ back as he tries to push through, wearing a matching face of confusion. Peter sneaks around them, with a pleasant, sweet smile that does not look like it’s affected by the psychedelics clearly consuming Remus and Sirius.
James walks in last, distracted by something he’s reading in his hand.
“Guys, I think we need to get to the Greek by seven if we want good seats -”
James freezes as he approaches Sirius’ side. Regulus doesn’t know why he’s nervous to see them all. They’ve become his family over the last nine months, even during the ones they had to spend apart. He shuffles awkwardly on the floor, hoisting himself to his feet so he can stand before the four men who changed his life.
They all stand in silence for a minute that could have also been a century. Standing before James, after three months of not being able to see his face, of not being able to touch him, makes each second stretch. But Regulus has learned patience over the last few months. So he lets each of them come back to reality at their own pace.
James finally shakes himself from delusion, and is the first to step toward Regulus. He doesn’t say hello, or ask what he is doing here. He doesn’t ask if he’s back for good, or when he arrived. James wraps his arms around Regulus’ lower back and hauls him off his feet, using one arm to wrap under his leg, forcing him to open his thighs and lock his legs around James’ back.
Once Regulus is secure in his grip, James walks him into the kitchen and away from prying eyes. He pauses there, letting Regulus support himself on the counter and kisses him. It’s quite frantic - how their hands grab for every inch of skin on the other. It doesn’t take long before their noises pull snide comments from the living room.
“Yeah, it’s not like any of us haven’t seen Reggie in months either. Not like he’s my brother. Go ahead, have him all to yourself, you selfish prick!”
James laughs against Regulus' mouth and picks him back up. He takes him down the hall, and sets him down just inside the door to his room. Before closing the door, he flips Sirius a middle finger for the comment and slams the door closed, locking it for good measure.
They spend a solid hour in bed. Or rather, on the bed. Because neither of them had the patience to get under the blue-checkered sheets before ripping each other’s clothes clean off. James did have the good sense to pause long enough to throw in the first CD he could find and turn the volume up to maximum volume so they could be loud without more reprimand. And that is how Regulus Black ended up having positively filthy reunion sex to the horrid tune of Third Eye Blind.
There’s barely any time to catch-up afterwards before Sirius is banging on the door screaming at them to get ready to leave before his mushrooms wear off and the entire night is ruined.
They dress quickly, and halfway through their trek through campus, Remus finally lets Regulus know where they’re going.
“It’s perfectly serendipitous that you showed up today. John bailed on Counting Crows at the last minute and we were about to scalp this ticket at the door.”
Regulus pulls Remus in, swaying as they walk and Remus drags Sirius behind him, because Sirius can’t take his eyes off the birds flitting in the sky above.
Regulus stops at the top of the incline and looks up toward the stone amphitheater surrounded by oak trees and swarms of people heading toward the entrances. James’ hand slides into his palm while he gawks at the building he’s admired from afar but never been inside.
“I missed you.”
Regulus turns, switching from staring at one gorgeous view to another. He wraps James up and kisses him. Words aren’t powerful enough to explain how badly he wanted to get back here. Money or not.
The sun is just setting as they find seats among the outdoor coliseum. The sky is so orange, it could be on fire. Remus treks up the stairs with Peter, each hand full with beer, and a fifth cup half spilling as Peter tries to keep it tucked against his chest.
Sirius is lost in the sky - clearly enjoying his mushroom journey still. Regulus leans his head down on his brother’s shoulder, so he doesn’t disturb his fun, but still letting him know that he’s here. That he’s really back, in the little junk yard that from his vantage point feels more like a castle.
As Counting Crows opens the show with Round Here, one of their most poignant and devastating songs, Regulus has a sensation that no time has passed since he left for his flight to London. Like those weeks turned to months were lost and washed away. The bridge of the song starts, and Regulus closes his eyes to take it in. Because he has always related to the girl who looks up at the building. Who lives a life in her own head. Who’s tired of life. Who’s tired of a huge, unnamable, something.
He doesn’t feel tired anymore. He’s no longer adrift. In the compass of Regulus’ life, never quite sure where it was pointing, he’s found direction in two friends, a brother, and a lovely, difficult, beautiful, maddening boy named James. His true north.
His life is so firmly and absolutely here. Anywhere else - he’d have to be with one of these people for it to feel real. For it to matter. He knows that now as he watches the sky turn from orange to dark blue above him. As a tan arm encircles his shoulders and whispers the last words of the song against his skin. With his brother and his friends and a person he fought to get back to by breaking his chains and keeping a promise. He can always meet his people on Telegraph Avenue and be home again.
Chapter 17: Epilogue - Preservation of Telegraph Avenue
Summary:
A pinboard, a venue, a dog & pop music
Chapter Text
Berkeley, CA - July 2003
It’s too hot, once again. There’s always a week, every summer, where the Bay Area turns into an oven and the fog refuses to roll in and relieve them. Regulus knows he and James shouldn’t be adding to the heat wave, but he’s weak.
Regulus can’t resist those hands as they trail down his bare stomach and find their way to the front of his boxers. James slips his hand underneath the fabric, teasing him with the tips of his fingers on the skin of his hip bones. Regulus was in the middle of making two sandwiches for them, one of his hands still currently wrapped around a butter knife.
Fuck it. They’ll just have to shower before they leave.
The knife drops to the counter and as the sound rings out, Regulus braces himself for what he knows will come next. Who needs food when you have James Potter running his hands across your stomach?
He lets James stroke him gently, staying still and pretending like he barely notices the attention. Because it drives James up the wall not to get the attention he craves, and Regulus remains a bit of a glutton for the control he can command over James.
They rarely have to rush anymore, enjoying years of languid touching. But today, they really should try.
After Regulus is hard and finally feeling needy enough to give in, he turns around, seeing the look in James’ eyes that only means one thing - that James has to have Regulus, and that he has no interest in waiting. Regulus loves when James gets like this, because it gives him the upper hand. To torture. To make the foreplay slow and soft until James is practically on his knees begging for more. In fact, several times over the years this has literally happened. James has dropped to his knees and told Regulus that if he continues his teasing that James will die. Fall to the floor and perish, as James likes to say from the floor with his pouty lips and pleading eyes.
So Regulus doesn’t let it get that far. Because they have somewhere to be in less than an hour. He takes a page out of James’ playbook and drops to his own knees in the middle of the kitchen before pulling James’ briefs down so he can step out of them. He looks up at the statue of the man he’s lucky to call his own, and smirks at the unchecked desire flickering in James’ eyes.
He takes James into his mouth, and doesn’t tease. He takes him in fully, and absorbs that moans he can feel vibrating through James’ entire body.
James reaches down and pulls at Regulus’ hair. A physical demand to get up. James moves Regulus toward the last drawer at the end of the kitchen and turns him around, letting him support himself on the edge of the counter. He pulls the drawer open, where in true James fashion, he keeps a small bottle of lube. There used to be condoms there, in the beginning. But they’ve been monogamous for so long, tested and cleared, that they no longer need them.
James uses his slick hand to open Regulus up slowly. This part never gets quicker. James is always generous and gentle. Always afraid of going too fast and hurting Regulus. And Regulus doesn’t mind. He loves the lead-in to the main event.
“Are you ready?”
Regulus lets his head fall back onto James' body and nods his head. James kisses his cheek as he guides himself inside of Regulus. Regulus’ mouth parts at the immediate fullness. James brings his free hand to Regulus’ neck and lays it across his throat. Their skin is sticky from the heat, making James’ hand cling to Regulus’ skin as he turns his neck back. James’ mouth falls into Regulus’, kissing him with more tongue than anything as he pulls out slowly and pushes in again, forcing Regulus to moan directly into James’ mouth.
Regulus still sees stars every time James loses control and starts to thrust faster and harder. It’s a bit of a routine, but Regulus can assure anyone that even knowing what will come next, he will never get tired of fucking James Potter.
“Touch me, James.”
They need to hurry this up. They’re going to be so late.
James wraps his arm around Regulus’ body and takes him into his hand. Regulus groans at the pressure, ready to spill over the edge. He briefly wonders how long James will need until his answer comes through a harsh whisper in his ear.
“Fuck, I’m close.”
Regulus grabs for James’ free hand, bringing it to the counter so they can hold on tight as James fucks him faster until Regulus is spilling out onto the counter and James is spilling into Regulus. It’s a symphony, the way they can let their moans and panting fall freely from their mouths. Because this is their apartment. Just theirs. No roommates who may walk in and find them buried in each other in the middle of the kitchen.
They both need several minutes to catch their breath before either of them can move for a towel and soap to clean the fucking mess they just made in their own kitchen. Jesus Christ, they are so lucky they live alone.
James looks at the clock in the kitchen. “Fuck, we are so going to be late.”
They make panicked eye contact and both dash for the shower to get ready at lightning speed.
On their way to the front door James stops at their little entry table and grabs a pen.
“James! We do not have time for this.”
James pauses and pinches his brows together, until Regulus throws his hands up, conceding.
“There’s always time for this, Reg.”
James finishes his scribbling and pins the sticky note to the cork board that hangs in their entry way. Full of layers and layers of various colored paper.
Regulus steps up to read the newest addition.
‘Do you realize that you have the most beautiful face?’
Regulus smiles and looks at James, who’s now the one waiting on Regulus to follow him out the door.
“The Flaming Lips?”
James leans in and kisses Regulus’ cheek. “Okay, now we really have to go.”
Regulus nods and takes a last glance at their lyrics board. Buried underneath is the first sticky note James pinned there on the first day they moved in together. Below hundreds of other lines and bridges and verses lies Regulus’ favorite.
The one that reads: ‘You’re the closest to Heaven that I’ll ever be.’
Regulus blushes at the memory as he slips his hand into James’. They sprint onto the street and take a left toward Oakland.
They make it to the venue with only five minutes to spare. Paul Simon is already spinning when they enter. Obvious Child blares through the speaker, which means Marlene must be here too since she’s the Paul devotee. Sirius and Remus roll their eyes when they see them both walk in with wet hair and still flushed faces.
“Really? This day is about Peter, and you two are late because you were having sex?”
James shrugs, and Regulus immediately moves away, not wishing to discuss his sex life with his brother even after all this time. He finds Marlene hanging decorations and gets to work - turning the room into an idyllic haven of flowers and greenery.
When the room is ready, they all step out onto the street for a breath of fresh air. Sirius immediately kneels to pet the black dog tied up to the bike rack outside.
Regulus shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you let Sirius keep that beast.”
Remus laughs, shaking his own head. “You act like I can ever tell Sirius what he can and can’t do.”
Sirius pauses his petting and glares up at them. “He needed a home, Remus! He was all alone at People’s Park.” He nuzzles his face into the dog’s, getting licks of approval in return. “My sweet Padfoot.”
James chuckles from beside them. Regulus and James privately laugh about the silly name Sirius landed on for his adopted street mutt.
Peter and John finally stroll-up to the storefront, in matching suits and glowing smiles to match.
“Looking sharp, boys. Ready to get married?” James hugs both of them before allowing everyone else to take their turn to congratulate the two.
Sirius hugs them each last, before throwing out one of his many, many remarks about their decision to have a commitment ceremony. “You know, Remus and I are waiting till marriage is legal to do this. To make it officially official. We’re out there every day fighting for the legislation. And we’re close, I can feel it.”
Almost in unison, the entire group responds together. “We know, Sirius.”
Remus kisses Sirius’ cheek, always deeply in awe of Sirius’ passion for fighting for all of their rights to marry on paper. But today isn’t about that. Today is about Peter and John wanting to celebrate with those they love. To share their agreements for a lifetime together with friends and family.
Everyone strolls into the store, leaving James and Regulus alone on the street, looking up at the red neon store sign.
‘The Astronomy Tower.’
Telegraph Avenue’s newest record store, venue, coffee shop, and local haunt for misfits. Named for the two stars who funded it. With the money that Regulus got for both of them by threatening his parents that he would come out publicly if they didn’t agree to release half of both of their inheritances. Blackmail is, arguably, wrong. But when it comes to the Black family, sometimes you have to sink low to get anywhere. And Regulus can’t admit honestly to feeling any regret.
Because look at his life. Look at the man he lives with. The man who fucks him stupid and eagerly lets Regulus do the same to him whenever he’s in the mood. A guy who took the money Regulus offered and immediately gave half of it to a man named Dave who previously lived on the street. Look at this store.
At some point, all of them agreed that Telegraph Avenue needed to be preserved. Needed something to combat the boy bands and the pop music that was taking over the radio. So, The Astronomy Tower was born - to keep real music in Berkeley. To have all their favorite bands playing at all times. To let local artists come and play their songs.
James takes Regulus’ hand, ready to lead him inside the small paradise that they all built together. James opens the door, and Are You Gonna Be My Girl by Jet spills out from inside. Sirius must have finally kicked Marlene off the stereo.
He pauses for a second, looking at Regulus with a question in his eyes.
“Do you think we should tell Sirius that we secretly love Britney Spears?”
Regulus puts a hand to his chest, feigning absolute horror. “Absolutely not. He’ll make us sell our portion of the store.”
They both fall into a fit of laughter as they cross the threshold, ready to watch two people they love commit to each other. James has no idea. That the moment marriage becomes legal for them, Regulus plans to ask James to do the exact same thing.
Notes:
This fic was a love letter to the city I grew-up in, that was a hub for the queer community long before many other places became open to us existing publicly. I love Telegraph Avenue, and absolutely loved putting these characters I am also (shockingly) very fond of in this setting. Swapping some of Regulus and James’ classic tropes was a challenge so thanks for every comment, share and kudo <3
List of locations mentioned in this fic:
-Oakland Coliseum (home to the A’s and previously the Raiders)
-Amoeba Music (open on Telegraph Avenue)
-924 Gilman (Open on Gilman Street)
-Ida L. Jackson Graduate Housing (was not actually open until the 2000s, but my father was the overseeing project manager of these buildings so decided to use it at an unnamed graduate housing location)
-Blondies Pizza (open on Telegraph Avenue)
-Cody’s Books (Permanently closed)
-Top Dog (open on Durant Avenue and Center Street)
-White Horse Inn (Open on Telegraph Avenue)
-SF Pride (Last weekend of June every year)
-The Campanile (Landmark on UC Berkeley campus)
-Hearst Greek Theater (Open on Gayley road)
-People’s Park (Currently being closed to create new housing & displacing the people who shelter there)
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bazinagbithc on Chapter 1 Tue 03 Sep 2024 07:56AM UTC
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faithinmidnights on Chapter 1 Thu 14 Nov 2024 10:27PM UTC
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minorlystuck7 on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Feb 2025 02:37AM UTC
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Changaroo on Chapter 1 Thu 13 Mar 2025 06:03AM UTC
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ani_wahstan on Chapter 1 Thu 13 Mar 2025 01:21PM UTC
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