Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Marauders were the kind of band your parents warned you about — eyeliner-smudged, loud-mouthed, and louder still onstage. They didn’t just play music; they lived it. Grit under their nails, sweat in their boots, and a sound that hit like lightning.

James was the face and voice — tall, tanned, curls always in disarray, mouth curled in either a grin or a scream. His voice could seduce or shatter glass, depending on the night.

Sirius, his best mate and lead guitarist, was the fire to James’s sunshine — pale, sharp-jawed, and dangerous in leather. His solos were feral, untamed things that made people weep or rip their shirts off.

Remus was the bassist — quiet, clever, and devastating in his own understated way. You’d think he’d be the least wild, but he was the one with a string of exes and tattoos that told stories if you stared long enough.

Peter held the kit together. The drummer. Not flashy, but solid — the reason their chaos sounded like genius and not a car crash.

They weren’t world-famous. Yet. But in the London underground scene, the Marauders owned the night.

They’d just finished a small set at a packed Camden venue, and the afterglow was still clinging to their skin. James was toweling off, shirt unbuttoned and voice hoarse, when Sirius tossed a worn flyer onto the table.

“Clear your Saturday,” he said, all grin and wild eyes. “My baby brother’s playing.”

Remus perked up immediately. “R.A.B?” he asked. “He’s still doing those euphoric sets?”

“Mmhm,” Sirius said, flopping onto the couch, all limbs and sweat. “Fundraiser. Trans Youth Housing Collective. Same underground venue on Wycliffe. 10 PM. Come support my way-too-talented brother, yeah?”

“Wait, hold on,” James said, looking between them. “R.A.B is your brother?”

Sirius smirked. “Did I not mention that?”

“No!” James said, nearly choking on his water. “You always just say ‘my brother’s a DJ’ like it’s some guy in his bedroom mixing on GarageBand, not that R.A.B.”

“Who's that R.A.B?” Peter asked through a mouthful of crisps.

James turned to him like he’d seen the light. “The one with the track that blew up on SoundCloud last year — Velvet Collapse — the one that makes your chest feel like it’s gonna vibrate apart.”

Remus added, “He’s kind of iconic in queer nightlife circles. Not just for the music. For the look, too.”

“Oh god,” Sirius groaned. “Here we go.”

“He performs in crop tops and short shorts,” Remus said with a knowing smirk. “Piercings. Glitter. Sweaty as hell. People lose their minds over him.”

James blinked. “And he’s your brother?”

“Yeah, tragic, right?” Sirius said, deadpan. “He got the cheekbones, the talent and the gayness. I’m left with angst and eyeliner.”

James grinned wide. “We have to go.”

~●~

Saturday Night

The venue was hidden beneath an old car garage, lit only by strips of pulsing LED and the glow of cigarette tips. They descended narrow stairs into a space that thumped with bass before they even reached the door. The air was humid and electric, thick with sweat, anticipation, and the tang of something illicit.

Remus led them through the crowd with ease. James followed, eyes wide, bumping shoulders with dancers in harnesses, velvet dresses, fishnets, and bare chests. The queer underground wasn’t just a scene — it was a world. One where no one looked at James weirdly when he reached for Sirius’s eyeliner or danced like no one was watching.

But even this world paused when R.A.B took the stage.

It was like someone turned the lights down just to make him glow.

Regulus Black — the techno deity of the London underground — took his place behind the decks in a black crop top that clung to his lean torso and rode up when he lifted his arms. His shorts were indecently short, hugging his thighs. A silver ring glinted at his navel, his skin dewy with sweat that caught the strobes like crushed diamonds.

He was heartbreak in eyeliner and lip gloss.

James’s jaw slackened.

“That’s him?” he asked, leaning into Remus to be heard.

The taller one nodded, amused. “Yup.”

James blinked, watching Regulus twist a dial, finger a slider, headphones slipping from one ear. His entire body moved with the beat, controlled and fluid, and when he smiled — just a little — the room ached.

“I need to sit down,” James muttered.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Do not drool on my brother.”

The music kicked in — a drop so deep it rattled James’s bones. It was ecstatic, dark, beautiful. A bass that pounded like lust and lit up every nerve in his body. People lost themselves in it. Bodies writhed. Lights pulsed. Regulus conducted it all like a sensual sorcerer — no magic needed.

James didn’t know music like this. He didn’t understand the layers, the loops, the waves of it. But he felt it. In his spine. In his knees. In his goddamn soul.

And more than that — he couldn’t stop watching him. That belly ring. That smirk. The effortless way Regulus moved, like he knew every eye was on him and reveled in it.

James was a golden retriever in human form — all smiles and muscles and softness.

Regulus Black was a fucking black cat in moonlight.

And James? James was done for.

~●~

The set ended in a crash of light and sound, the final track rolling like thunder across the dance floor. The crowd erupted, sweaty and glitter-drenched, cheering for the boy who had just devoured the night with nothing but decks, confidence, and sub-bass frequencies.

Regulus raised one arm in the air, head tilted back, breathing hard. His crop top clung to his chest, and his hair stuck to his temples in damp, glittered strands.

Then, just as effortlessly, he dropped the vibe and vanished behind the side curtain.

James Potter, six-foot-something of biceps, curls, and dazed admiration, just stood there.

“Did he just—he just—wow,” James said, still staring at the stage.

Sirius snorted. “You’re drooling.”

“I am not,” James said, wiping his mouth just in case. “Do I smell okay? I smell okay, right?”

“You smell like beer and sweat,” Remus said, sipping something neon. “So, perfect for a club.”

Peter elbowed James. “He’s coming this way.”

James froze.

And then there he was.

Regulus emerged from the shadows of backstage with a towel draped around his neck, a bottle of water in one hand, and an unbothered expression like he hadn’t just made 300 people lose their minds. His skin glistened. The piercing at his bellybutton sparkled with every sway of his hips.

He spotted Sirius and approached, graceful as hell.

“Still alive?” he asked, voice low and melodic.

“Barely,” Sirius replied, pulling him in for a one-armed hug. “You were incredible, as usual.”

Regulus batted his lashes. “I know.”

Then he turned, as if only just noticing the group around his brother. His gaze slid over Remus and Peter politely, and then landed on James like a slow drag of fingertips down bare skin.

“And this must be James,” he said, lips curling.

James straightened, then immediately bumped his hip into a nearby speaker.

Regulus’s smile deepened.

“Yep,” Sirius muttered under his breath. “He’s gone.”

“I—uh—hi!” James said brightly. “I mean, hey. Hello. Wow. You were—I mean—the music. It was like—like… sound. But, like… intense.”

There was a pause.

“I do love it when people compare my work to sound,” Regulus said sweetly.

James turned pink. “No—I mean—obviously it’s sound, but your sound is like… more sound. Like mega-sound. Like it punched me in the chest but in a nice way?”

Remus buried his face in his drink.

Sirius looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.

Regulus tilted his head, eyes wide and faux-innocent. “So you liked it?”

“Liked it? Loved it. I think I vibrated.”

“Oh,” Regulus said, stepping just a bit closer. “Did it make your whole body feel that way?”

James nodded with fervor. “Everywhere. My legs are still kinda numb.”

The younger Black hummed. “I do like it when tall boys go weak in the knees.”

James made a small choking sound.

Sirius groaned loudly. “I am right here.”

“Oh, hush,” Regulus said, batting him away. “He’s your friend. You should be proud. He’s very pretty.”

James brightened. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Regulus said, looking up at him through those impossible lashes. “Like a golden retriever who learned how to sing.”

James put a hand to his chest. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Regulus bit his lip, then leaned in just slightly. “Tell me, James,” he purred. “Do you always make that face when someone touches your shoulder, or was that just me earlier?”

James blinked. “You touched my shoulder?”

“Mmhm. When I walked past. You looked like someone had short-circuited your brain.”

He blinked again. “Oh.”

Regulus placed a hand — cool and damp from the water bottle — on James’s forearm. “You’re very warm.”

“You’re very shiny,” James said, awed. “Like—sweat, but sexy?”

“Thank you,” Regulus whispered, like it was a secret. “Do you like boys in crop tops?”

“I do now.”

Sirius made a strangled sound behind them.

Regulus stepped even closer, their bodies nearly brushing, and looked up with mock innocence.

“Would you want to help me cool down?” he asked sweetly. “Maybe get some air upstairs… or just stand near me and look pretty?”

James nodded quickly, as if agreeing to help a kitten out of a tree.

“Yes. I’m good at standing. I’ve been doing it for years.”

Regulus laughed, genuinely this time. “I bet you’re also good at lifting things.”

“Very,” James said proudly. “I once carried all four of our amps in one go.”

“That’s so impressive,” Regulus whispered, reaching up to finger the hem of James’s shirt. “Do you ever lift people?”

“Only when asked very nicely.”

“Well,” Regulus said, stepping back with a smile that promised trouble, “I’m very polite.”

And with that, he turned and walked toward the bar — slow, deliberate, daring James to follow.

James turned to Sirius, looking overwhelmed.

“I think I’m gonna die.”

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. “If you try to date my brother, I will kill you. But sure, go be a good himbo.”

James grinned. “Thanks, Pads!”

And then he followed the glitter trail to the bar like a moth to a very shiny, very flirty flame.

~●~

The bar was tucked in the corner of the venue — half-hidden behind velvet drapes and strung with low, pulsing lights. Regulus leaned against it like he owned the place, one hip cocked, arms resting casually on the counter. His skin glistened under the glow, shimmering with a cocktail of sweat, glitter, and sin.

James, not subtle in the slightest, approached like a golden retriever trying to look suave. Broad shoulders. Nervous grin. Determined swagger that would’ve worked, if he hadn’t immediately knocked over a barstool.

“Smooth,” Regulus murmured, biting the rim of his straw as James bent to set it upright.

“I meant to do that,” James said, straightening, cheeks pink. “You know. For drama.”

Regulus smiled sweetly. “Very dramatic. Do you fall often or is this just for me?”

“Oh no, it’s a special service,” he said brightly. “Custom-tailored.”

Regulus giggled. Actually giggled. “Lucky me.”

James leaned against the bar beside him, close but not quite touching, then waved the bartender over. “What are you drinking?”

“Vodka soda with lime. Fresh. Not that fake syrup rubbish.”

James flagged down the bartender. “One vodka soda with real lime, please. And, uh… a beer for me. Whatever looks least like regret.”

Regulus leaned closer as the drinks were being made, voice syrupy-sweet and dangerous. “So. Rockstar boy. You’re used to being the one on stage, yeah?”

James grinned. “Kind of. Not as flashy as you, though.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, his fingers barely brushing James’s forearm. “You looked pretty flashy in those leather trousers I saw in that promo poster. Had to zoom in a little.”

James swallowed hard. “You’ve seen our promos?”

Regulus tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Of course. Sirius wouldn’t shut up about the band. So I peeked. Did some… research.”

“Right. Research. That’s good. That’s—uh—yeah.”

Regulus smiled like a cat who’d just learned to play with ist food. “You really do have a very nice… voice.”

“Oh! Thanks! I do vocal warm-ups. Scales and stuff. Me-me-me-meeee.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t talking about singing.

James blinked. Then blinked again. Then turned bright red.

Regulus sipped his drink, the lime wedge glittering against his glossed lips. “But I’m sure your scales are very impressive.”

“Do you, um,” he began, trying to rally, “do you lift equipment at your shows?”

Regulus gave him a slow, teasing once-over. “No, sweetheart. I mostly just lift expectations.”

James grinned, giddy. “You’re amazing.”

“I know,” Regulus said, running a hand through his damp hair. “But tell me something you’re good at. Something to impress me.”

James puffed up slightly. “I can write songs in my sleep. Like, actual full verses. Rhymes and everything.”

The younger Black looked pleased. “Do you write love songs?”

James scratched the back of his neck. “Uh… mostly stuff that makes people jump around and scream, but… yeah. Some softer stuff too.”

Regulus leaned in, resting his chin on his hand. “Will you write one about me?”

“I—yes. I absolutely will.”

“What will you rhyme with Regulus?”

James blinked. “Uh. Um. ‘Spectaculous’? That’s not a word but I’ll make it one.”

Regulus smiled, slowly dragging a finger down James’s chest, right over the center of his shirt. “You’re very… poetic.”

“I work out,” James blurted, desperate.

Regulus blinked, clearly trying not to laugh. “I can see that.”

“I can carry a whole drum kit by myself.”

“Oh no,” Regulus whispered, wide-eyed, “are you trying to seduce me with manual labor?”

“Is it working?” he asked earnestly.

Regulus bit his lip and gave a tiny, filthy little hum. “Maybe.”

James nearly dropped his beer.

Then Regulus tilted his head, softening, giving James just enough of a pause in the tease. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

James blinked. “Really?”

“Mmhmm.” Regulus toyed with his straw. “Most guys hit on me like they’re trying to win something. But you’re just… here. Blushing. Flexing. Existing.”

“I just think you’re…” James trailed off, then finally settled on, “You’re a lot.”

Regulus smiled like sin. “Too much?”

“No,” he said, eyes wide. “I think you might be my new religion.”

“Oh my,” Regulus whispered, setting down his drink. “You’re dangerous.”

“You’re the dangerous one!”

Regulus stood, slowly, and stepped close — their chests almost touching. His fingers slid up James’s shirt collar and tugged, gently.

“Maybe,” he whispered. “But you look like the kind of boy who doesn’t mind getting burned.”

James couldn’t even speak. He just nodded.

Regulus rose onto his toes, lips brushing James’s ear. “Come find me after my next set,” he murmured. “Maybe I’ll let you touch the belly ring.”

Then he disappeared into the crowd again, all sway and glitter.

James stared after him, dazed.

~●~

He made his way back through the crowd like a man struck by divine revelation. Still clutching his half-finished beer, shirt slightly rumpled from Regulus’s wandering hands, and pupils blown wide like he’d glimpsed eternity — which, in fairness, he had.

Regulus Black had smiled at him, whispered in his ear, and touched his chest. James Potter was a changed man.

He found the others near the back of the venue, sitting on a lopsided couch under a broken neon sign that buzzed faintly. Sirius was scrolling through his phone. Remus and Peter were sharing a tray of greasy fries.

James dropped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, spilling some beer onto his jeans.

Remus looked up. “Well?”

James turned toward them with the dumbest grin any of them had ever seen.

“I’m in love,” he declared.

Sirius immediately sat up like someone had shot him. “With who?”

“Regulus,” James said dreamily.

Peter choked on a fry. Remus made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort.

Sirius stared. “No. No. No, no, no.”

James nodded solemnly. “He touched my chest. With intent.”

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “That’s my baby brother, James.”

“Your baby brother just made me reconsider the very concept of purity,” he said, all blissed-out sincerity.

Remus burst out laughing, fries falling out of his hand.

Sirius looked like he was having a stroke. “You’re supposed to say he’s annoying or like, ‘oh Sirius, your brother’s so small,’ not—whatever this is!”

“He’s perfect,” James whispered. “He said I looked like a golden retriever and I’ve never wanted to be walked on a leash more in my life. Woof Woof“

Peter wheezed.

Remus actually had to put his drink down.

Sirius made a strangled sound. “Prongs, I swear to God—”

“—and he said I could maybe touch his belly ring later,” James added helpfully, eyes a bit glassy. “Do you think it’d be weird if I wrote a song about his crop top? Or like… his thighs?”

Sirius buried his face in his hands. “I am going to rip out my own eardrums.”

“He smells like expensive sweat,” James sighed.

Peter completely lost it. Remus was gasping for breath.

“Do not talk about my brother’s sweat in front of me! That’s an offense. A war crime.”

“I just think we’d be beautiful together,” James said, very sincerely. “My chest. His eyeliner. My thighs. His thighs. Our thighs.”

Sirius threw a cushion at him. “Stop romanticizing my sibling’s legs!”

“You’re just jealous because I have a chance,” he grinned, then paused. “Do I have a chance?”

Remus wiped tears from his eyes. “Oh, you absolutely do. He was undressing you with his eyes and his words.”

“See?” James said proudly. “We had a connection. A vibe. A vibe with bass.”

“James, I swear,” Sirius groaned, “if I hear one more word about vibes or belly rings or anything remotely involving my brother and your bedroom voice, I’m going to light myself on fire.”

James held up his hands. “Okay, okay. No details.”

Sirius visibly relaxed.

James added, “But hypothetically, if I were to bend him over a speaker during one of his sets—”

“I WILL MURDER YOU IN FRONT OF GOD AND THIS ENTIRE NIGHTCLUB!”

Remus actually fell off the couch, laughing. Peter dropped the fries and wheezed so hard he had to grip the table.

James looked confused. “What? That’s how he’d want it!”

Sirius stood up and paced. “I need a drink. Or therapy. Or an exorcism.”

He called after him, “Do you think he’s into handcuffs? Not like, real ones—unless he’s into that, which I’m open to—”

“YOU’RE NOT HELPING!” Sirius yelled over his shoulder as he stormed toward the bar.

Remus climbed back onto the couch, still laughing. “I haven’t seen Sirius this close to losing his mind since he found out Regulus got more Instagram followers than him.”

James beamed. “I can’t help it. I’m enchanted.”

Peter nodded solemnly. “You’ve been glitter-pilled.”

James clutched his chest. “If he touches me again, I will fall in love. Like, permanently.”

Remus raised a brow. “Again?”

James looked smug. “He said I look like the kind of boy who wouldn’t mind getting burned.”

Remus and Peter howled. Sirius, from across the venue, screamed into his hands.

And James just leaned back and smiled.

Chapter Text

Regulus’s final set hit harder than the first. The crowd, now deeper into the night and glistening with sweat, responded to every pulse like puppets on a string. The beat was heavier, darker — a seductive pull instead of an invitation. James stood near the edge of the dancefloor, heart hammering in sync with the bass, eyes locked on the boy behind the decks.

He could barely think.

Regulus didn’t just command the room — he owned it. Crop top soaked through, shorts riding indecently low, sweat trailing the curve of his back. James wanted to run his tongue down it. He didn’t even bother pretending anymore. He was full-on staring, fantasizing in 4K.

When the final track crashed into silence and the crowd roared, Regulus raised his hands lazily, then slipped off the stage, vanishing behind the curtain like smoke.

James moved before he could think, like gravity had shifted and Regulus was the center of it.

Sirius, thankfully, was nowhere in sight. Remus had him cornered near the bar, animatedly explaining something about modular synths. Sirius’s face was twisted in visible confusion, trying to follow words like “polyphony” and “LFO” while Remus droned on innocently, completely on purpose.

Bless him.

James slipped past, heart thundering, up a staircase marked “STAFF ONLY.” A bouncer gave him a nod, probably assuming he was one of Regulus’s people. He wasn’t wrong.

He found Regulus at the end of a hallway, wiping sweat from his face with a towel, arms glittering under dim lights. His eyes flicked up — and when he saw James, a slow smile unfurled.

“You followed me,” Regulus murmured.

“You knew I would.”

Regulus dropped the towel, eyes hungry now, none of the earlier faux-innocence. “Come on. I want air.”

He pushed open a heavy metal door, and the night swallowed them.

The rooftop was quiet. Just the faint hum of the city, streetlights glowing below, the sounds of laughter and music muffled behind steel and concrete. There was no one up here but them.

Regulus walked to the edge, hands on the low wall, wind tousling his damp hair. His back arched ever so slightly, like he knew James was looking.

James came up behind him, close. Not touching. Not yet.

“Reg,” he said, voice low, rasping.

Regulus turned, slowly. His eyes were darker now, heavy-lidded, mouth parted.

The moment stretched.

James was done pretending.

He stepped in — one hand finding Regulus’s waist, the other lifting to cup his jaw — and kissed him like he’d been waiting a lifetime. No hesitation, no teasing. Just heat. Mouths crashing together, breath stolen, lips slick and urgent.

Regulus whimpered into it — whimpered — and clutched at James’s shirt, fisting the fabric and dragging him closer.

The kiss turned messier, deeper. Tongues sliding. Teeth clashing. James bit at Regulus’s bottom lip and Regulus gasped, breaking the kiss only to surge back in harder, hungrier.

When they finally broke apart, both panting, James pressed his forehead to Regulus’s and whispered, “I’ve been going insane.”

Regulus laughed breathlessly, hands sliding under James’s shirt. “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been staring like you wanted to devour me.”

“I do,” James said, voice wrecked. “Every inch of you. I want—God, I want everything.”

Regulus arched against him, thighs brushing. “Then take it.”

James didn’t need to be told twice.

He gripped Regulus’s waist harder, pressing him back against the rooftop wall. Their mouths collided again, more desperate. James kissed him like he needed to map his whole mouth — like he could live off the taste of him.

Regulus was pliant but greedy, fingers tangled in James’s curls, tugging hard enough to make the other one groan. His legs parted instinctively as James slotted between them, hips grinding just enough to make both of them shudder.

“Fuck,” James hissed against his neck. “You’re unreal.”

Regulus gasped when James bit down, sucking a mark just under his jaw. “You—fuck, James—”

James’s hands were everywhere. Smoothing over Regulus’s ribs, teasing the waistband of his shorts, brushing the little ring at his bellybutton that made Regulus twitch.

“You gonna let me have you?” he growled, eyes burning. “You gonna stop teasing and let me feel you?”

Regulus moaned — a real, filthy sound — and hooked one leg around James’s thigh. “I’ve been waiting all night.”

James ground up into him, hard, making Regulus cry out softly into his neck.

“Every time you touched me,” James whispered, “every look, every giggle — I knew what you were doing.”

Regulus dragged his nails down James’s back. “And you loved it.”

“I fucking did.”

He tugged at the crop top, sliding it up, exposing Regulus’s glistening chest. He leaned down and licked a trail from navel to sternum, pausing to suck the belly ring into his mouth, making Regulus writhe.

“God, James,” he gasped, clawing at his hair.

James looked up, flushed and wild. “I want to make you beg.”

Regulus’s lips curved. “Then do it.”

James claimed his mouth again, one hand slipping into the back of Regulus’s shorts, gripping his arse with intent, pulling him in tighter. There was no space between them now — just heat, friction, and want.

Regulus finally stopped pretending. His innocence dropped like silk. He moved with purpose, grinding into James, panting into his mouth, whispering filth in his ear that made James growl.

“Been thinking about your thighs between mine,” Regulus breathed. “Wondered if you’d be rough or sweet.”

James nipped at his throat. “I can be both.”

“I want everything,” Regulus moaned. “Want to feel you everywhere.”

James lifted him slightly, pinning him harder against the wall, lips never leaving his. “I’m not stopping now.”

“Good,” Regulus whispered. “Don’t you dare.”

Somewhere, deep below, the club kept pulsing.

But up here, under the stars and streetlights, James Potter kissed Regulus Black like it was war and worship all at once.

And Regulus let himself be wanted — truly, hungrily — for the first time in a long time.

~●~

They were still pressed together, wind curling around them in warm gusts, as the city pulsed below like the bass hadn’t quite ended. Regulus’s spine was arched against the low rooftop wall, one leg hooked loosely around James’s thigh, lips kiss-bitten and slick with gloss smudges that weren’t just his anymore.

James’s hands gripped Regulus’s waist like he couldn’t quite believe he was real — and Regulus was real, mouth open and panting, curls clinging to his temples, the glitter on his cheekbone smeared from where James had kissed it away.

They had been grinding for long minutes, heated friction building between them like fire licking higher and higher. James was breathless, and Regulus — Regulus was wrecked in the most beautiful way. His crop top was bunched under his chest, damp and twisted. His short shorts had hitched even higher on his hips, one of James’s hands now just barely inside the waistband, thumb stroking hot skin beneath.

It was hot. Filthy. Breathless.

But James slowed.

Not because he didn’t want to keep going — fuck, every cell in his body was screaming to feel Regulus unravel completely under him. But because…

Regulus wasn't just hot. He was something else. Something James hadn’t quite been able to name until that moment. And he wanted him properly. Not halfway on a rooftop, breath caught between rough kisses and wind. Not like a dirty secret between beats of bass.

He wanted all of him.

“Reg,” James murmured, pressing a slow kiss to the underside of Regulus’s jaw, then another to his damp collarbone. “Wait.”

Regulus stiffened slightly. Not in fear — in defense. Like he was used to people losing interest once the grinding stopped.

James cupped his cheek, urging him to look up. “I don’t want to fuck you here.”

Regulus blinked, lips still parted. “What?”

James leaned his forehead against Regulus’s. Their breaths mixed, warm and shaky. “I want you in my bed. I want to wake up next to you. I want to make you breakfast — okay, burn breakfast. And laugh about it while you steal my shirt and yell at me for using the wrong pan.”

Regulus stared at him, wide-eyed and flushed. His hands were still clenched in James’s shirt. “Are you… joking?”

James kissed him again, softer now. More reverent. His hands framed Regulus’s face. “You’re fucking gorgeous. And smart. And, let’s be honest, a complete menace.” He kissed him again. “But I don’t want this to be just… heat.”

Regulus’s breath caught in his throat.

“I want the heat,” he said, and to prove it, he rolled his hips once — slow and deep — making Regulus gasp. “But I want the sweetness, too. The you-that’s-not-on-stage. The you who probably likes tea a certain way and has strong opinions about album art.”

Regulus gave a breathy laugh, the first real crack in his armor. “You don’t even know me.”

James smiled. “Not yet. But I want to. And that scares the shit out of me, actually.”

Regulus stared at him like he didn’t know what to do with him. His fingers uncurled slowly from James’s shirt, moving to brush against his neck, a light, searching touch.

“No one’s ever said that to me,” he whispered. “That they want me for more.”

James nuzzled against his temple. “Then I’ll keep saying it until you believe it.”

Silence stretched between them, full of weight and warmth. Regulus’s lips trembled faintly.

“I’m not easy,” he admitted.

“I’m not scared,” James said, serious now. “You can be moody. A hurricane. I still want to make you pancakes in the morning. Even if you call them shit.”

“I will,” Regulus muttered. “If they’re bad, I’ll destroy you.”

James laughed, kissing his temple. “Good. Then come home with me and ruin my ego.”

Regulus paused. Then nodded.

And it was soft — almost imperceptible — but it broke something in James’s chest.

They didn’t speak much on the way out. Regulus threw on James jacket over his crop top, legs still bare, James’s arm loosely draped around his waist. Sirius was nowhere in sight, but James spotted Remus giving him a discreet thumbs-up before turning back to distract their guitarist with some made-up debate about guitar tuning methods.

It wasn’t until they were in the cab, the ride to James’s flat was charged. Neither of them spoke much — the silence wasn’t awkward, it was electric. Regulus sat with one leg pulled up onto the seat, eyes flicking toward James like he wanted to crawl into his lap and eat him alive. James, for his part, stared out the window with wide, overwhelmed eyes and fists clenched on his knees, like if he let go he’d launch himself at Regulus and start tearing off clothes right there in the cab.

When the car pulled up, James all but threw cash at the driver and tugged Regulus out by the hand, heart hammering. They climbed the narrow stairs to his flat, two at a time, laughing breathlessly between kisses stolen in the stairwell — teeth knocking, lips crashing, hands already under shirts.

James fumbled the key in the lock, swearing under his breath.

“Your hands are shaking,” Regulus said behind him, voice low and knowing.

“You’re wearing my jacket and I can feel your thighs against my ass,” James muttered. “Everything’s shaking.”

Regulus’s laugh was husky. “Good.”

The door finally gave way.

The flat was a mess. A musician’s den. Guitars leaned against walls, laundry was half-folded on a chair, and there was a pile of dishes in the sink that hadn’t been touched in two days. He was about to say something — maybe apologize — when Regulus shoved him inside and kicked the door shut behind them.

And then pushed him.

James stumbled back and landed on the couch, blinking.

Regulus stood in front of him, already dragging off the borrowed jacket in one smooth motion, revealing the sweat-damp crop top beneath, still clinging to his chest. His shorts were hiked indecently high, glitter smudged across his collarbone and down one thigh.

And that look in his eyes — hunger. Possession. A kind of elegant feralness that made James forget how breathing worked.

“Reg—” he started, but then Regulus climbed onto him.

Straddled his lap in one graceful motion, knees bracketing James’s thighs, arms draped around his neck, hips pressing down with purpose.

James made a strangled sound. “Oh fuck—”

“You said you wanted me,” Regulus murmured, lips brushing James’s ear. “So have me.”

James’s hands flew to the small waist, gripping tight, holding him like an anchor. “I do. God, I do.”

Regulus rolled his hips once — slow, delicious — and James gasped. Regulus smirked.

“I’ve been hard since the rooftop,” James confessed, eyes wild.

Regulus kissed him — messy, open-mouthed, desperate — then pulled back, just enough to look him in the eyes. “Me too.”

And then they were moving. Grinding, kissing, panting. Regulus fucked down on James’s lap like he was chasing something. James’s hands roamed under the crop top, up his back, his sides, gripping hard enough to bruise.

Their kisses were filthy — wet, eager, uncoordinated from want. Regulus sucked on James’s tongue and moaned into his mouth, and nearly lost it.

“You’re gonna kill me,” James growled, dragging his mouth along Regulus’s jaw, down his neck.

Regulus tugged his hair back. “Then die. Right here. With my thighs around you.”

James groaned. “You’re not real. You can’t be real.”

Regulus rocked against him, pressure building and building. “Real enough to make you lose your mind.”

James couldn’t stop touching him. Every inch of exposed skin — the curve of his waist, the silver ring glinting at his navel, the shimmer of sweat on his chest. He wanted to taste him everywhere.

But still, he didn’t push. Didn’t reach for more. Not yet.

Regulus noticed. Paused. “You’re still holding back.”

“I want this,” James said, voice hoarse. “I want you. But I want to do it right.”

Regulus blinked. “You think this isn’t right?”

James cupped his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “This is perfect. But I want the part after too. I want you staying the night. I want to fall asleep with your hair in my mouth and wake up to you yelling at my toaster.”

Regulus stilled, breath catching.

James kissed him again — slower now, but still burning. “I want more than just your body. Even though your body is… unholy.”

Regulus looked down at him, lips parted, something soft and stunned in his expression.

And then, with a kind of quiet surrender, he curled forward, resting his forehead against James’s.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “I wasn’t ready for this.”

James stroked his back. “You okay?”

Regulus nodded. “Yeah. Just… no one’s ever said shit like that to me. No one’s ever wanted me like that.”

James leaned back, looking up at him with soft eyes. “Well. Get used to it.”

Regulus gave a shaky laugh. “You really are the biggest fucking himbo.”

“I can live with that,” James said, grinning. “As long as you stay right here.”

Regulus rolled his hips again, slower this time. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere.”

And they kept kissing, grinding, moaning into each other’s mouths until neither of them could think. Until their skin was slick, clothes twisted, and James had all but melted into the couch with Regulus draped over him like he belonged there — like he always had.

~●~

James Potter had known desire. He’d lived in green rooms full of heat and noise and glances across smoke-thick dance floors. He’d had kisses in backstage shadows and hands under shirts in parking lots. He knew the high of hunger.

But nothing — nothing — compared to Regulus Black on his knees in the middle of his cluttered flat, looking up at him like he’d just found something he wanted to break open.

Regulus’s lips were still slick from their earlier kiss, flushed and curved into a wicked little smile. His lashes were damp with sweat, and there was glitter still clinging to his cheekbone, smeared from James’s touch. He looked like a dream and a weapon all at once — all lean, glowing limbs, and wicked intent.

James sat back on the couch, dazed and overwhelmed, legs spread wide as Regulus slipped between them, elegant and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to ruin him.

“Take these off,” Regulus murmured, tugging gently at the waistband of James’s pants.

He lifted his hips without protest, watching with wide, dark eyes as Regulus slowly dragged them down — teasing — knuckles grazing over his thighs, deliberate and unbearably light.

And then — when James’s cock finally sprang free — Regulus paused.

His smile widened.

“Well,” he breathed, eyes gleaming. “Aren’t you a lucky fucking find.”

James flushed, breath hitching. “Reg—”

Regulus traced one finger lightly along the base of his cock, not even touching properly — just taunting. “Big,” he whispered, voice thick with delight. “Thick. You’ve been hiding this from me all night?”

“I—wasn’t exactly—hiding it,” he rasped.

Regulus laughed, soft and filthy. “You could ruin me with this. Fuck, James.”

James groaned, hips twitching as Regulus leaned in, lips just brushing the tip.

“Bet you’d make me cry,” he whispered. “Bet you could make me beg, make me scream.”

“Jesus—” James muttered, fists clenching at his sides.

Regulus licked a slow, deliberate stripe up the length of him, eyes never leaving James’s face. “Could hold me down, fuck me into your mattress. Or bend me over your amp. How do you want me, James?”

James’s hand flew to Regulus’s hair, threading through those dark curls, gripping tight. Regulus moaned at the pressure.

“Like that,” he gasped. “Pull my hair. Use my mouth. You want to, don’t you?”

“You’re a menace,” James growled.

“I’m yours.”

And then he took him in.

Hot, wet heat surrounded him in one smooth motion, and James choked on a moan, head falling back against the couch. Regulus moved slowly at first, mouth tight and slick, tongue teasing under the head, lips flushed and stretched wide. His hands braced on James’s thighs, nails digging in just a little.

He was losing it. His hips bucked once, instinctive, and Regulus moaned around him — the vibration making stars pop behind James’s eyes.

“You’re fucking perfect,” James gasped, hand tightening in Regulus’s hair.

Regulus pulled off with a wet pop, breathing hard, lips red and shining.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Tell me what you’ll do to me. What you’ll do when I’m spread out in your bed, waiting.”

James stared down at him, chest heaving. “I’ll wreck you.”

Regulus licked a stripe up the side, teasing again, watching James’s every twitch. “Good boy.”

James groaned like he’d been punched.

Regulus sucked him in again, deeper this time, humming like he liked being used like this. And he did — his body said it all. His hips rocked faintly against the carpet, like he could find friction there, like he was getting off just from the sounds James made.

And James? He was gone. Drenched in sweat, thighs trembling, toes curling in his socks, heart pounding like a drumline.

It wasn’t just physical. It was something else — the way Regulus looked at him, like he wanted to carve James into his memory with every drag of his mouth. Like he wanted to own this moment, brand it into both of them.

And maybe he already had.

Regulus had James’s cock halfway down his throat, spit-slick and moaning like a goddamn symphony, when he pulled off. Abruptly.

James blinked, dazed, gasping. “Wh—Reg, what—?”

Regulus wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, lips swollen, breath uneven. “I want it,” he said, voice wrecked. “Inside me.”

James’s brain short-circuited.

“I want you inside me,” he whispered, eyes dark and sure. “I want you to come in me. Make it messy. Real.”

James stared.

Then something in his face changed — cracked open — and all that teased, cornered hunger turned into a wave of need.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered.

Regulus smirked, already trying to straddle him again. “Then die beautifully.”

But James wasn’t having it.

“Nope.” He grabbed Regulus’s thighs and stood — stood — lifting him like he weighed nothing.

Regulus made a startled sound, arms flinging around James’s shoulders. “You absolute brute—”

“You asked for this,” James growled, striding toward the hallway, Regulus curled against him, legs around his waist, bare thighs clinging to his hips. “Told you I could lift all our amps. You really thought I wouldn’t lift you?”

“I thought I was being flirty,” Regulus breathed into his neck.

“You were being a little demon,” James said, kicking open his bedroom door. “And now I’m going to ruin you.”

The bedroom was dark, lit only by the city outside. Soft shadows across the sheets. Still half-messy from yesterday’s laundry, but neither of them cared.

James dropped Regulus onto the bed, not roughly — but decisively. Claimed.

Regulus sprawled where he landed, breath coming fast, shorts hanging halfway off his hips. James stood over him, stripped off his shirt, and climbed between his legs, eyes gleaming.

And then he stopped.

“What—” Regulus began, but James had already dipped down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his inner thigh. Slow. Wet. Maddening.

“I think,” James murmured, dragging a tongue just beneath Regulus’s hip bone, “it’s my turn to tease.”

Regulus arched. “Don’t you fucking—”

James kissed the hem of his shorts. “You wanted it. All of me. You asked.”

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and tugged — slow, too slow. Regulus whimpered, pushing his hips up to help, but James held him down with one hand and dragged the shorts away on his terms.

And when Regulus was finally bared, gasping, trembling, James just looked.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Regulus flushed, but his voice was breathless and daring. “Then touch me.”

James’s smile turned wicked. “Oh, I will.”

He reached for the nightstand. Condoms. Lube. His hand was steady even as his breath came sharp.

When he slid one slick finger between Regulus’s thighs, teasing the rim, Regulus moaned like he’d been waiting for this his whole life.

James kissed his ankle. “Still think I’m a himbo?”

“Yes—fuck—yes—don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to,” James said, working him open slowly, steadily. “You’re gonna feel every inch of me. But not yet.”

Regulus writhed, thighs twitching. “Please.”

He added another finger, curling slightly, watching Regulus arch and bite his knuckles. “You’re so tight,” he murmured, mouth brushing Regulus’s thigh again. “You really want me to stretch you around me? Fill you until you can’t think?”

“Yes,” Regulus gasped. “I want to feel you for days.”

James chuckled low. “You will.”

He took his sweet time, carefully working Regulus open, watching his every twitch and gasp. He loved it — loved watching Regulus go from cocky and in control to flushed and pleading, back arching off the mattress, eyes glassy, fingers clawing at the sheets.

“James—James—please—”

James leaned in, kissed his stomach, licked a trail to the piercing at his navel. “I’ve got you. Just a little more.”

He added a third finger. Regulus nearly sobbed, breath stuttering.

“Such a pretty thing,” James whispered, finally crawling up, chest against Regulus’s now, noses brushing. “You’re mine now.”

Regulus looked up at him, lips trembling, utterly undone. “Then take me.”

He was flushed head to toe, his legs spread wide beneath James, skin slick, lips bitten, chest rising and falling like he’d just danced a full set and wanted more. James hovered over him, breath hot and uneven, and lined himself up, cock dragging along Regulus’s entrance in a slow, maddening tease.

Their eyes met.

“You ready?” James asked, voice rough.

Regulus’s nails dug into James’s biceps. “I’ve been ready.”

James pushed forward — slow, deliberate, inch by inch — and Regulus’s back arched hard. His mouth fell open in a wordless cry, body stretching around him, taking him in deep, deeper than anyone ever had.

“Fuck—” Regulus gasped, head thrown back. “You’re—God, James—”

James gritted his teeth, trying to stay still, to let Regulus adjust, but the way Regulus clenched around him, the way he moaned like being filled hurt just right — it made control a fantasy.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, lips brushing Regulus’s cheek. “You feel like fucking heaven.”

Regulus whimpered, hands dragging down James’s back, hips lifting instinctively.

“Go,” he hissed. “Move. I want it. I want all of it.”

James didn’t need to be told again.

He pulled back and slammed in hard.

Regulus screamed.

Not in pain — in sheer, wrecked pleasure. His heels dug into the mattress, fingers clawing at the sheets, eyes wide and glazed.

James fucked into him with long, deep strokes, each one dragging a cry from Regulus’s throat. The rhythm started steady — controlled — but it didn’t stay that way. Because Regulus kept asking for more.

Kept gasping, “Harder—yes—don’t stop—”

So James gave it to him.

He pressed Regulus down into the bed, fucked the brat right out of him. Every roll of his hips left Regulus shuddering. Every thrust stole another breath.

James watched him come apart — the way his moans turned higher, more desperate, the way he grabbed at James’s shoulders like he couldn’t hold himself together.

“Look at you,” James rasped, voice low and wrecked. “All that attitude and now you’re just my little mess.”

Regulus moaned, louder than before, legs trembling around James’s waist.

“Oh?” James smirked, dragging his mouth along Regulus’s jaw. “You like that?”

Regulus nodded frantically, face flushed. “Yes—yes—don’t stop—say more—”

He sank his teeth into Regulus’s neck, just hard enough to leave a bruise.

Regulus whined. “Yes—mark me—please—”

James bit down again, this time on his shoulder, licking over the red skin after. “All mine,” he growled. “You walk out of here tomorrow, everyone’s gonna see who you belong to.”

Regulus choked on a moan. “Fuck, James—”

“You want me to ruin you?” James whispered in his ear. “Because I will. You’ll be so full of me you won’t remember how to act like a little brat.”

Regulus broke.

His body twisted beneath James, one hand fisting the pillow, the other digging half-moons into James’s back. His legs locked tight around him as James drove into him — deeper, harder, relentless.

James didn’t let up. He pressed Regulus down, kissed him bruising-hard, whispered against his lips:

“Louder, baby. Let them all hear how good I fuck you.”

And Regulus did. He moaned like it was being torn out of him, back arching, mouth open, eyes wild.

James reached down between them, wrapped his hand around Regulus’s leaking cock, and stroked in time with his thrusts.

“Come for me,” he growled. “Be good and fucking come for me.”

Regulus shattered.

His whole body seized, cock twitching in James’s hand, cum painting both their stomachs as he cried out James’s name like he meant it — like it was something sacred. His body clenched around James, and that was it — James fell over the edge, hips stuttering, groaning into Regulus’s throat as he spilled deep inside him, just like Regulus had begged for.

They stayed like that — locked together, breath tangled, skin slick and marked — for a long moment. The only sound was their gasps and the faint hum of traffic outside.

James didn’t pull out right away. He couldn’t.

Regulus was still shaking, hands fisted in James’s hair now, tugging softly, like he didn’t want to let go.

James kissed his cheek. Then his neck. Then his bruised shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Regulus let out a breathy laugh, completely ruined, eyes still glassy. “I’ve never been better.”

James grinned. “I could tell. You were loud.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Regulus murmured, but his voice was too wrecked to sound convincing.

James kissed his temple. “Too late.”

~●~

James woke slowly.

Sunlight pooled across the sheets, the room hazy with warmth and quiet. The scent of last night lingered in the air — sweat, sex, and something sweeter. His body ached in the best way: muscles loose, heart full, lips a little sore.

He smiled to himself, stretching, reaching instinctively to the other side of the bed.

But it was cold.

His hand hit nothing but crumpled sheets.

James blinked, suddenly more awake.

“Reg?”

He sat up quickly, raking a hand through his hair. The bedroom was empty. Regulus’s shorts were still on the floor, but the hoodie and crop top were gone. His boots, too.

For a split second, panic flared in his chest. He hadn’t… scared him off, had he? Said too much? Moved too fast?

But then — he heard it.

A soft clatter. A hiss. The unmistakable sound of something flipping in a hot pan.

And — coffee. The rich, roasty scent of real coffee drifted in through the open door.

James blinked again.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, shoved on some sweats, and padded barefoot down the hallway.

What he saw in the kitchen nearly knocked him flat.

Regulus stood at the stove, barefoot, wearing James’s shirt. It was unbuttoned at the top, the hem falling past his thighs, sleeves rolled sloppily to his elbows. His hair was a tangle of dark curls, sleep-mussed and glowing in the morning light. There was batter on his wrist and a smear of flour on his cheek.

He was humming — humming — something soft and electronic, barely there, as he expertly flipped a pancake in a hot pan.

James leaned against the doorframe, struck silent.

Regulus looked… at home.

And that? That was a whole new kind of dangerous.

“Morning,” James said, voice rough with sleep.

Regulus turned slightly, eyes flicking over him, and his mouth twitched into a smirk.

“Relax. I didn’t run out on you,” he said, flicking the burner lower. “I just didn’t trust you not to poison me.”

James blinked. “What?”

“You said you were going to make me breakfast,” Regulus said, pointing at him with the spatula. “And I believed you. That was my mistake. You look like the type who thinks cereal is a food group and believes pancakes cook best on high heat.”

James grinned, stepping closer. “You’re not wrong.”

“I know I’m not,” he said, smug, then turned back to the stove. “So I took control of the situation. Congratulations. You survived your own kitchen.”

James slid his arms around Regulus’s waist from behind, nuzzling into his neck, inhaling the smell of sugar and coffee and Regulus’s skin. “You’re making me pancakes.”

“You’re letting me,” Regulus corrected, but he softened into the touch.

“I thought you left,” James admitted quietly.

Regulus paused for a second. Then turned slightly in his arms.

“I don’t run,” he said. “Unless I’m being chased or someone’s playing ‘Wonderwall’ on acoustic guitar.”

James huffed a laugh against his shoulder. “Fair.”

Regulus leaned back into his chest, a hand reaching up to touch James’s arm around him. “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”

James kissed his shoulder, right over a faint bruise he’d left the night before. “Good.”

They stood there for a minute — the pan sizzling softly, the city murmuring outside, Regulus in his shirt, James half-asleep against his back — and for once, everything felt quiet.

No stage. No pretense. No noise.

Just them.

“Didn’t know you could cook,” James said eventually.

“You’ve known me for 15 hours,” Regulus replied. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Then I better keep you around so I can learn.”

Regulus glanced over his shoulder, eyes glittering. “You really are a sap.”

James kissed the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. But I’m your sap now.”

Regulus didn’t say anything.

But he smiled.

And in his silence, James heard everything he needed.

~●~

Regulus sat cross-legged on the couch in James’s shirt, a plate of golden pancakes balanced on his lap, one of James’s stupid band mugs filled with black coffee cradled in his hand. His curls were still a little messy. There was powdered sugar on his thigh. He looked disgustingly perfect.

James plopped beside him with his own plate and immediately stole a bite from Regulus’s stack.

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” Regulus said without heat, nudging him with his foot.

James grinned, chewing happily. “Best pancakes I’ve ever had.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “You’ve probably only ever had them from a box.”

“Wrong,” he said, pointing at him with a syrup-covered fork. “One time Sirius tried to make some and nearly lit the stove on fire.”

As if summoned by name, James’s phone — forgotten on the coffee table — vibrated violently.

Then again. And again.

And then a voicemail ping.

James picked it up, screen lighting up with 16 missed messages and four new voicemails, all from Sirius.

Regulus leaned over to peek. “Uh oh.”

James tapped open the first text.

• PADS: where the FUCK is my brother
• PADS: you absolute bastard
• PADS: did you corrupt him
• PADS: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU—
• PADS: moony says you left together and he was wearing your jacket
• PADS: IF YOU TOUCHED HIS BELLY RING—
• PADS: I’LL KILL YOU POTTER
• PADS: ANSWER YOUR GODDAMN PHONE

Regulus snorted into his coffee.

James hit play on the first voicemail, and Sirius’s voice immediately screeched through the speaker.

“JAMES. POTTER. I trusted you. That is my baby brother—and if you did anything involving your dick and my brother in the same—DON’T EVEN ANSWER THIS, JUST KNOW THAT I’M COMING FOR YOU. WITH A BAT. AND A SOUNDTRACK. THE AGGRESSIVE ONE—”

James sighed, setting the phone back down. “He’s going to kill me.”

Regulus, completely unfazed, shoved another bite of pancake in his mouth. “Tell him I made you breakfast. That should confuse him long enough for us to escape.”

James smiled at him, soft and full of something new.

“Wanna escape with me?” he asked quietly.

Regulus looked at him for a long moment, chewing.

Then he nodded.

“Yeah. I really fucking do.”

And James — warm, full, still sticky with syrup and affection — leaned in and kissed him.

As Sirius’s fifth voicemail played in the background.

“I SWEAR TO GOD PRONGS, IF HE’S WALKING FUNNY—”

Regulus just laughed into James’s mouth.

And the world, for once, could wait.

Chapter Text

It started with a text.
Then two.
Then about forty-seven.

• PADS: WHERE ARE YOU

• PADS: IS MY BROTHER STILL ALIVE

• PADS: ANSWER ME YOU HORNY CHIHUAHUA

James had been trying to enjoy his second cup of coffee and a rather smug Regulus sitting on his couch eating pancakes when the messages continued.

“Do I have to reply?” James asked, scrolling.

“Yes,” Regulus said, chewing. “Or he’ll show up.”

“How bad can it be?”

They both stared at the door when a loud BANG BANG BANG shook the frame.

“Potter! Open up! I know you’re in there!”

Regulus sighed. “Bad.”

~●~

Sirius Black stormed into the flat like a gothic thundercloud, wearing sunglasses indoors and the kind of trench coat that suggested emotional instability and maybe a bandit hobby.

He stopped dead at the sight before him.

Regulus, in James’s shirt, legs bare.

James holding a spatula like a weapon.

A suspicious pile of pancakes between them.

“Oh,” Sirius said, voice flat. “Oh, no.”

“Pads,” James started, hands raised, “you’re going to want to take a deep breath-..”

“MY BROTHER?!” Sirius yelled. “My actual biological brother, with you? You could have any man in London and you picked the one with my face genetics!?”

Regulus took a leisurely sip of coffee. “Technically, I’m the upgraded model.”

Sirius pointed. “Don’t sass me in my hour of betrayal!”

James tried reasoning. “Look, it just happened! You invited us to his gig, remember? You said, ‘Come support my brother.’ I was just—uh—being supportive!”

“Supportive doesn’t require nudity, James!”

“It was emotional support!”

“Horizontal emotional support?” Remus’s voice came from the doorway. He’d followed Sirius, holding a paper bag that said ‘Emergency Croissants.’ He looked delighted. “Oh good, I didn’t miss the meltdown.”

Peter poked his head in behind him. “Are we still on for band practice, or—?”

Sirius whirled. “No! Practice is CANCELLED until I bleach my brain!”

~●~

Fifteen minutes later, Sirius sat at the table, glaring across a stack of pancakes like they’d personally wronged him. Regulus sat opposite, calmly buttering another. James hovered between them, holding coffee refills like a waiter in a diplomatic negotiation.

“So,” Sirius said finally, “when exactly did this start?”

“Last night,” Regulus answered.

Sirius closed his eyes. “And when exactly will it end?”

“Hopefully never,” James said before he could stop himself.

Sirius screamed into a pancake.

Remus patted his shoulder. “Look on the bright side, Pads. At least now family dinners will be entertaining.”

“Family dinners?!” Sirius groaned. “You think I’m going to sit there while these two play footsie over the mashed potatoes?”

Regulus smirked. “You could always sit at the kids’ table.”

James choked on his coffee. Remus wheezed. Peter quietly filmed everything for future blackmail

~●~

Rumours spread faster than a dropped drumstick in the band’s group chat.

Remus changed the name of their rehearsal thread to “The Black-Potter Peace Talks.”

Sirius refused to speak to either of them unless through song lyrics. (“Don’t come around here no more,” he texted James, followed by twelve guitar emojis.)

Regulus began attending their gigs — which meant half the audience started attending too, because apparently DJ R.A.B. dancing near the stage was better publicity than a marketing campaign.

James wrote a new song called “Soft Siren (For the One Who Steals My Shirts)”

Sirius threatened to quit the band. Twice.

Remus sold tickets to “Family Therapy: The Acoustic Set.”

~●~

It ended, as all Marauder crises did, at The Leaky Cauldron with too many drinks and a dare.

Sirius downed his pint, slammed it on the table and said, “Fine. You two want to be together? Great. Wonderful. But if I hear one lyric about my brother’s thighs on the next album—”

“Too late,” Remus said, not looking up from his phone. “He rhymed it with ‘highs.’ It’s catchy.”

Sirius face-planted into the table.

James grinned at Regulus, who leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“You’re never living this down,” Sirius mumbled into the wood.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” James said cheerfully.

Regulus raised his glass. “To inappropriate relationships and excellent pancakes.”

Remus lifted his. “To future chaos.”

Peter clinked his glass, already filming. “To album number four.”

Sirius groaned. “To my inevitable breakdown.”

They all drank to that.

~●~

Three weeks later, Rolling Stone UK ran a photo spread titled:

》“Rock Royalty & R.A.B.: The Marauders’ Frontman Finds Love in the Family.”

Sirius threatened to move to Norway.

Remus printed the article and framed it.

Regulus hung a copy in James’s kitchen.

And James?

He just kissed him, poured more coffee and said,

“Worth it.”