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Chapter Text

James POV

James was walking briskly under the pouring rain, his red converses absorbing more water with each step and his drenched white shirt sticking to his skin.

His day had begun like any other, with a shining sun and the sweet scent of flowers coming from his balcony, so when his boss sent him to Gotham City, he didn’t expect anything. After all, it had been a warm week in Metropolis.

He forgot that the sun never ventured out in the bleak city of crime.

Fortunately, he was getting closer to the Black Manor, the place where a charity fund was raised to help open the orphanage Regulus Black himself renovated and where he needed to be for the rest of the evening, collecting enough information to write an article.

He hadn't even arrived at the gate before he could hear music, laughs and glasses tinkling.

He knew the event was for a good cause and would help a lot of people – kids in particular - , but he couldn’t shake this feeling of unease at the contrast of these rich people unconsciously having fun while the rest of the city was suffering silently.

Arrived at the main door, he knocked and was invited to come in almost immediately by a butler who offered to take his coat before seeing he didn’t have any and gazed with a critical look at the transparence of James’ shirt. He asked if he should take care of any of his belongings, anyway, looking at his messenger bag but James took off his converses instead, handing them to him.

“I have derby shoes in my bag,” James assured the man who was now raising an eyebrow, “don’t worry, I’m not coming to Regulus Black’s charity funds in worn-out socks.”

“Very well,” answered the man, taking James’ red shoes at the touch of a button.

“The reception room is over there,” he then said, inviting James to enter more in the house and continue straight ahead, “and the toilets are here,” he added, showing his left.

“Thank you,” said James before entering the room where the floor was made of marble and the taps of gold. He approached the drying machine and started taking off his socks.

He was already late as it was but walking on spongious tissue was the worst. He tried to dry his shirt too, but he didn’t want to take it off, afraid of someone entering.

All the cream of the crop of Gotham was here tonight, and his goal was to obtain exclusive interviews, or at least a few quotes.

Starting a striptease in the toilets probably wasn’t the best way to start one.

Regulus POV

Regulus Black loved his playboy’s role.

Besides the fact that it was fun to flirt, seeing the power he could hold with one smile, one glance, it was incredibly useful

See, let’s say you fight crime under another identity and have heard from good authorities that an attempted heist was going to happen at your own charity fund, nobody would find it suspect if you were to disappear at some point in the evening with a handsome young person, presumably going to your bedroom.

That was what Regulus was trying to find, a handsome young person to play with a little, before sneaking out.

He was going to explore his game board, leaving his wine glass on a table behind him when someone tripped on his polished shoe.

He caught the clumsy man and help him get his footing back before looking up at him.

He was tall, taller than Regulus – even though that wasn’t very difficult to achieve-, had messy brown curls almost falling into his warm chestnut eyes, enhanced by his thick and dark eyelashes, framed by crook glasses. His shirt was half drenched half almost dry, as if the man began to dry it before giving up, and he seemed completely lost.

His lips curled up in an apologetic smile, letting his dimples show, “Mr. Black, I’m so sorry, I tripped on the carpet and…”

Perfect.

He was perfect.

“Already falling for me, I see,” he said with one of his wry smiles, arching one eyebrow.

“I did, didn’t I,” the man chuckled.

“Already wet too,” Regulus continued, raising his hand to the other man’s bicep where the tissue was sticking to his skin.

He shook his head in disapproval, his black curls following the motion. “Such a wet mess.” His hand went up to find the soaked brown hair.

“It's raining outside,” answered the man with a lost expression and red cheeks – he was already Regulus’ pawn, good.

“Well come on,” he said, taking his new toy by the tie, “let’s get you a dry shirt.”

He obediently followed, looking like he was in a haze, “Aren’t you the host of the party?”

“I am.”

“Aren't you supposed to shake hands and make sure no drama is started or something?”

“I’m making sure a soaked guest who’s sinfully dressed for a formal occasion isn’t tripping on much more important guests and causing scandals, right now,” answered Regulus with a wink that shut up the brown-eyed man instantly.

James POV

Being kept on leash by his tie held by Regulus Black wasn’t particularly what James thought his plan was going to lead to.

Admittedly, when his boss told him that the billionaire at the head of the Black Entreprises empire didn’t do interviews but that if someone could get him to do so it would be James, he felt pretty confident.

James was known to charm people and led them to be more open in interviews. If he was completely honest, his reputation started with the exclusivity of his articles written after ‘intimate’ - his boss words, not his - conversations with Superman but he liked to think his real work was what maintained the perception of the good reporter the people he worked with had of him.

In any case, when James stepped into the Black Manor, he was feeling optimistic about charming Regulus Black into a recorded conversation.

Once he approached the party, his eyes searched for him. As he learned, observing people interact at a distance was revealing and James had the chance to be able to hear them too.

He found him easily, in the middle of the room, people like orbiting around him, dying to have a glance or word from him.

He was currently talking to future investors, thanking them before he excused himself, saying he needed a drink.

As soon as he separated himself from the little group of people, a redhead blocked his path. “Regulus Black, hi, I work for the Daily Prophet, could-”

“No,” answered the black-haired man, not mean but with a firm tone that made the journalist understand there was no reason to try any further.

On the path to the drinks table, he told off to no less than eight other reporters and when he got there, he whispered in the ear of a tall woman in a purple dress to distract everyone who even tried to glance at him, for five minutes, the time for him to take a break from the mundanity of this event.

Well, James just had to approach him without looking at him then. Hell, he wasn’t even going to go in his direction, he was just accidently going to trip and lost his footing which would lead his trajectory to shift, and his destination to become Regulus Black’s arm.

That was a good plan, James thought to himself, internally patting his own shoulder.

The plan wasn’t supposed to lead him into Regulus’ bedroom.

But it did.

🦇

Fuck.

He was in Regulus Black’s bedroom.

When he should be working.

Fuck.

The black-haired man closed the door behind them, still holding James by the tie.

His other hand then gripped the said tie higher, making James fold a bit, as he purred, “Such a tight tie, let’s loosen it, ok?”

James’ messenger bag, he was so far holding with his right hand, made a muffled sound when he dropped it on the floor.

He nodded, a lot more enthusiastic than he should be.

Because he should be thinking about the consequences of what was happening right now, he should find an excuse, he should leave, at least talk.

But his brain was broken by the sight of pale fingers expertly untying the knot at his throat.

Once Regulus finished, he let the tie hang around James’ neck, his hands catching both sides of it, keeping hold on the flustered mess James was.

“Mmmh,” he hummed, “much better.”

James audibly gulped in response and Regulus smirked, flashing his canines briefly.

Fuck.

James needed to feel them right now.

He surged forward, letting out a needy whine before being stopped by Regulus’ finger on his purse lips.

He shook his head like he was disappointed by James’ behavior.

“We’re supposed to get you more presentable and this,” Regulus removed his finger, letting James’ lips shivering, “isn’t the way to do it,” finished Regulus.

He then pushed gently James to the wall with one hand on his torso.

God, he was fucked.

“Stay here,” ordered the man, his grey eyes in James’ and his hand pushing him back again, to make himself clear.

James couldn’t form words but managed to nod.

He was rewarded by a smirk, “Good boy.”

Regulus then turned around and began walking toward a door on the opposite side of where he was standing earlier.

Without meaning to, James blurted, “Only if you want me to!”

Regulus POV

That was unexpected.

And hot.

Regulus liked seeing his toys break after having been played with too harshly but most of all he liked to play, and this man have given him a whole new game to have fun with.

He continued walking to his dressing room, not wavering as he asked, “Yeah? And if I don’t?”

He picked up the biggest shirt he could find, although from what he had seen it would still be tight for the brown-eyed man.

The moment he stepped back into his room he was pulled by the waist, his back hitting a warm chest. “Then, I’ll be whatever and whoever you want me to be,” breathed the taller man in his ear.

Regulus turned to face him, putting his free hand on the other man’s arm, the other still clutching the new shirt.

“But who are you?” he asked with hooded eyes, his gaze finding the brown-haired man’s lips. They were parted, wet, and so close, waiting.

“I’m-” the taller man began before frowning, “James Potter.”

Shit, he knew this name.

He was a journalist.

He was Superman’s journalist moreover.

The one that is full of praises for the benefits the flying alien in red underpants was bringing to Metropolis.

Just when things were getting interesting.

Well, great.

Just fucking great.

“James,” repeated Regulus, trying the name in his mouth. It sounded good, maybe a little too good actually.

“You’re a journalist.”

It wasn’t a question, but James answered, “Yeah.”

“But,” he rapidly added, pressing Regulus’ waist, “like I said, I’ll be whatever you want, your wish is my command.”

“You should get back to work, Mr. Potter,” Regulus ignored his last comment, detaching himself from the other man’s grip and handing him the dry shirt.

He then left the room, not turning back.

Batman had work to do anyway.

🦇

James POV

James knew he shouldn’t abase himself for a man like Regulus Black but fuck he should have eluded this question, even giving a fake name. Anything.

Anything to see lust in Regulus’ eyes again.

He shouldn’t feel that way, not for someone who used him at his will to have a little bit of fun, someone who wanted to flirt with him when he was a stranger and flew just hearing his name. He was supposed to be angry with him, but his mind just kept playing the moment Regulus’ gaze fell to his lips.

He groaned, taking off his wet shirt and throwing it to lie with his bag.

He was struggling with the little buttons of Regulus’ shirt when he heard three quick knocks at the door.

He didn’t pay attention to the approaching steps, the house being huge, he didn’t think anyone would come to Regulus Black’s bedroom.

He quickly regretted his lack of judgement because before he knew it, the door was wide open, the butler standing in front of him, nevertheless not entering.

James tried to hide his bare torso like he could with an unopen too small shirt.

The butler didn’t even bat an eye, visibly not impressed nor surprised by James’ presence in his master’s bedroom.

It was probably not the first time nor the last he found one of Regulus’ conquests in an embarrassing situation thought James, bitter.

“I’m looking for Mr. Black,” the butler said, unperturbed.

“He’s not here.”

“And would you happen to know where I could find him?”

“No.”

“Very well,” responded the older man, his hand coming to the doorknob, “have a nice evening, sir.”

“Thanks,” said James, unsure, as the door closed.

Still a bit lost from the interaction, he succeeded in opening the first buttons of the shirt, and put it on, passing his head through the opening.

He then took a look at himself in the little mirror hanging on a wall.

The shirt was far too tight, but, most importantly, he looked fucked.

Which he was.

But also wasn’t, which was the reason he was. Ugh.

He tried to tame his hair a bit, unsuccessfully, and take deep breaths to calm himself.

It was then he heard a gunshot and screams.

Not thinking, he hurried to his bag to find his costume, his hands coming to his belt. He discarded his pants with a kick of his foot while he caught the back of the white shirt, passing it over his head again.

He was in his red and blue costume in record time and shoved his glasses and clothes in his bag, pushing it under the bed; how should he retrieve it was a problem for future James.

He jumped out of the window before coming to a sudden halt.

He wasn’t in Metropolis. He was in Gotham City. And everybody knew that Gotham City was Batman’s territory.

But after all, he pondered, a little bit of help was always welcome, right? And he flew to the main door.

Admittedly, from the moment James heard a human was fighting crime disguise as a bat, he wanted to meet him. He had so many questions. Plus, having to talk to another ‘superhero’ would be nice, he thought.

He entered the manor easily, only to find two masked men on the floor, bound and unconscious. They had blood on their white jumpers.

🦇

Regulus POV

Regulus Black’s parties were known to be targeted by criminals because Regulus Black’s parties were also known to be expensive, classy and gathering billionaire business owners and heirs from the wealthiest families in the world.

All the people present – well, apart from the dozens of reporters scattered in the room - were wearing glamorous suits, dresses and expensive jewels and had a ridiculous amount of money in their bank account.

In short, Regulus Black’s parties were robbers’ all-you-can-eat buffet.

You would think people wouldn’t want to attend his parties anymore, but they did. Maybe because meeting Regulus Black was worth being robbed, especially when you could afford it, maybe because living in Gotham City makes you immune to crime or maybe because having attended a heist was making amazing stories to tell in society.

🦇

Regulus told Kreacher earlier to come fetch him in his bedroom at 11:30 exactly before going to the Batcave and to not, under any circumstances come near the door or the party past this hour.

In the end, Regulus left his bedroom before Kreacher could find him, but he met him in the cave.

There, the butler said he met a ‘young sir’s bared torso’ in his attempts to find him, but ‘the boy was too bashful to be any use’. It honestly made Regulus laugh because even if James Potter was off his game board, he was adorable in a shy nerd way and imagining him face to face with Kreacher and his judgmental stare when he was half naked and in another man’s room was hilarious.

According to his sources, the criminals should be arriving any minute now, so Regulus put on his Batman costume and went up to the ground floor, he then hid in the cloakroom to be able to see the front door and waited.

Soon enough the door opened, and a blonde masked woman entered. She looked around, not seeing anyone, and made a sign for the others to come in.

Batman counted. They were sixteen, all wearing black masks covering all their faces, simple white sweaters and jeans, and were all armed with guns.

They were too many to be taken care of as a group, so Batman waited for them to split, which they did. Two stayed in the hallway, three went to the toilets, ten to the party and one to the cloakroom.

The latter entered carefully, holding his gun in front of him and inspecting the room. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t check behind the door and once he was standing in the middle of the room, Batman covered his mouth with one hand, the other coming to his armed hand, he twisted his wrist in a swift motion, easily disarming him and breaking the bone.

A cry escaped his mouth but it was muffled by Batman’s hand and a needle soon pierced his jeans before his tight.

It was ketamine, a simple sedative.

Batman felt the other man relax in his arms and a few seconds later he was unconscious.

He put him down carefully, bound him rapidly, and replaced himself behind the door. He punched the wall to make a noise that would call the attention of the two other men posted in the entry.

“Alright in here?” asked one of them.

The absence of answer led him to approach and when he had one foot in the room Batman closed the door, hard, making the man’s nose bleed.

“Shit,” the other said as Batman revealed himself.

Using the harmed man’s confusion, he punched him in the throat and the man fell to his knees before hitting the ground.

“What did you do?” panicked the other.

“Jujitsu move,” he shrugged, “he’ll live, he’s just asleep for now.”

The man surged forward, almost touching him, but he was faster, he knocked him in the eye and moved past him, catching his wrists and holding them behind his back, unfortunately he managed to free himself and punch his jaw.

Regulus tasted blood in his mouth.

He banged the man’s head in the wall beside him with enough force to put him to sleep.

He bound the two men, hoping no one had been alerted by the noises when he heard a gunshot.

He ran to the reception room, not bothering with the toilets because it wasn’t there that a gun was being used.

“Everyone down, hands flat on the ground,” screamed the blonde woman to the crowd that obeyed.

“My colleagues, here,” she pointed to her accomplices, “are going to move through the ranks to collect your posh little belongings, do not resist, we don’t want to have to hurt you.”

“Not so fast,” said Batman, standing behind her.

She hummed as she turned, “Batman,” she said, “we were wondering if we’d have the chance to meet you. See, you’re kind of a role model for us.”

“I don’t think you understood what I stand for then,” he responded.

“Justice,” she answered immediately, “That’s why we’re here too. Those men and women dressed up in what represents a lifetime of works for someone who didn’t get to be born in the household of someone who build an empire on the misery of others,” she continued, slowly walking over him, playing with her gun, “thinking they’re better because they gave a bill for someone else to take care of people, real people, who suffers, do you think they need all these jewels and money? Don’t you see that tomorrow morning, they’ll have recover everything without having to raise their pinky.”

They were now only inches away from each other, tension emanating from both of them.

“Violence should never be used,” he said.

The woman barked a laugh, “That’s rich for you to say,” she replied.

“Listen, nobody got hurt and nobody will be, if we just get the money and go.”

As soon as she finished her sentence, a blue form caught her and made her lose her gun at an inhuman speed.

When the figure stopped, Regulus distinguished brown curls and a distinctive S symbol.

Great. Just fucking great.

The blonde woman struggled, trying to free herself, but the arm that was trapping her was not moving an inch, keeping a firm hold on her.

“Hi,” said the newly arrived with a beaming smile, “I’m-”

“Superman,” Batman gritted.

The alien’s smile widened so much Regulus thought it must hurt. “Oh,” he said, looking ecstatic, “you know me, already.”

“Not a good thing,” Batman muttered before being caught by the throat and held at gunpoint.

“Don’t move Superman,” ordered the woman who was pressing her gun harder on Regulus’ temple, “or I shoot him.”

Chapter Text

James POV

“Don’t move Superman, or I shoot him.”

He froze instantly.

The woman he was keeping trapped in his arms tried to take advantage of it and struggled harder to free herself, but it was no use; James was stiff like a rock.

“Let her go,” ordered the other, her grip tightening on Batman’s neck.

James could hear his breathing becoming labored.

“He can’t breathe.”

The woman didn’t loosen her grip, “Let. Her. Go.”

Batman’s lips – the only glimpse of skin James could see - were parted now and slowly losing their pink. He needed air.

He decided it was too dangerous to fight her.

She seemed on edge, eyes a bit too wide, pressing harder her gun on Batman’s temple and tightening her grip too much, her knuckles white from the effort.

Superman’s only focus right now was Batman’s breath and heart. He needed to break free soon if not now.

“Ok. Just- Let him breathe,” he agreed, slowly loosening his arms but before it would be enough for the blonde to be free, he heard careful but quick steps approach the manor, making him pause.

People were coming.

“What are you waiting for?” the woman pressed him, “I said let her go!”

Dorcas POV

This was taking too long.

Dorcas had waited for those two men with a savior complex to do their job, if you could call beating up ‘the bad guys’ while wearing tights a job, but they were useless.

Honestly why were they called superheroes when they were barely heroes.

“Ok, this has taken too much of my time,” she said, getting up and dusting off her purple dress with her hands.

“What the fuck,” said the masked man closest to her, pointing his gun at her face, “get back on the ground, now.”

Dorcas sighed, “Come on, nobody here wants violence, and I’m sure we can work something out with this money thing. Yeah?”

“The f-” began the man, but a sizzling voice cut him, coming from the outside of the manor, amplified by a loudspeaker.

“GCPD, please surrender, we have surrounded the house.”

Dorcas didn't get the chance to blink before Batman gave his aggressor's stomach a jab and staggered, his legs giving out from his body's lack of air. As he fell to his knees, Superman took advantage of the moment and (finally) put his laser vision to use on the woman's gun.

“Fuck,” said the man, his weapon still pointed on Dorcas.

“Yeah,” she replied, “maybe if you had moved your butts a little faster, we wouldn’t be here.”

“You-” he started, walking over her, his voice menacing, his gun getting closer and closer to Dorcas’ face.

She prepared herself to get into a fight and make him lose it. But then, a bright red ray shone through in front of her face and rendered the gun to a useless piece of metal. If Dorcas had wavered, it could have been her cheek, but she didn’t have the time to process this because the man, angrier now that he was harmless, jumped on her.

She thanked the dress she chose to wear this evening, slit up to the very top of her thigh on both sides, giving her a freedom of movement she wouldn’t have had with another one, happy she could kick him right in the genitals.

The man folded on himself immediately, moaning in pain, but Dorcas didn’t falter, ramming her knee into his stomach, making him fall to the ground from the pain.

He wrapped his arms tightly around his middle, curling up on the ground, his face contorted.

“Bitch,” he managed to grumble, spitting on her shoe.

“I beg your pardon?” she raised her eyebrows.

“You’re a fucking bitch who-”, Dorcas raised her leg and pressed with her heel on his throat, making him choke.

“No one calls me a bitch. No one.”

And she cleaned the spit off her shoe on the man's shirt before giving him another kick in the stomach.

Regulus POV

Regulus’ vision was blurry, black spots were dancing before his eyes and his throat was burning.

He could hear the distant sounds of the fight that had erupted because of the criminals’ panic, some people were screaming, and he thought he heard a gunshot, but his heart was beating too loud in his ear, drowning the outside world.

He should help them. He was Batman.

He had to. They needed him.

He weakly tried to get up, but his knees were trembling, and his head started to spin.

His legs failed him and so his body fell, getting closer to the cold hard floor.

However, Regulus didn’t hit something cold.

His body was carefully caught in his fall, something warm and soft keeping him close, making Regulus want to curl up and stay there forever, making him feel safe, allowing him to drop the fight he had with his own eyes that so desperately wanted to close.

James POV

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Batman just fainted in his arms when he needed them the most.

He had already taken care of the guns with his laser vision, and bound the two women together, but it wasn’t enough.

Now, the criminals understood that they were going to be arrested and were desperately trying to maintain control over Regulus Black’s guests, except the latter saw they didn’t had guns anymore and the atmosphere was getting tense. Superman even saw the tall black woman in purple dress who was preventing Regulus from being approached earlier, getting into fights.

Yet, Batman needed help too.

His heart was still beating and he was breathing, but he needed to be put in recovery position and if possible, oxygenated by mask, as remembered James from his first-aid books.

Fortunately, the GCPD agents entered the manor, surrounding the reception room.

“Nobody moves!”

James trusted them to be able to take care of the situation for a few moments and carried Batman outside.

“What happened to him?” asked a tall man, following him.

He had sandy brown hair, chocolate eyes framed by black glasses and a neat chevron mustache, covering his upper lip a bit. His face was scattered by scars, the most prominent one running across the middle of his nose and ending below his hard jaw, giving him an imposing look. He was wearing a trench coat, and a police badge was hanging from his belt loop that said: Remus Lupin, Commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department.

“He was strangled and fainted,” James answered, “he has a pulse and he’s breathing, but he needs to be taken care of.”

“Ok,” said Commissioner Lupin, extending his arms to Batman, who Superman was still carrying, an arm under the back of his knees, the other supporting his nape.

When he didn’t make the slightest shadow of a move, the police agent said, “I can handle him, and you probably have better to do than play nurse.”

James sized him up and down.

“We know each other, ok? He’d trust me with this,” Commissioner Lupin tried to convince him.

He looked in his brown chocolate eyes and saw the man was honest, worried even.

“Ok,” finally agreed James. “He needs-”

“Recovery position, I know,” cut him the older man, taking Batman from his arms, he was visibly struggling with his weight, but tried to not let it show, “go save innocent people.”

“Now,” he sighed, seeing James was still standing there.

🦇

Regulus POV

When his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw after black spots, was a chevron mustache.

He blinked to get used to the light.

“Commissioner Lupin,” he said with a grave tone.

Brown eyes instantly rolled at him, “I just gave you mouth-to-mouth resurrection, I think you can call me Remus.”

“What happened?” he asked, coming to a sitting position even though his head began throbbing instantly.

“You’ve been strangled, then fainted, carried bridal-style by the superguy and saved by me when you stopped breathing again. Oh, and the whole heist thing has been taken care of, the criminals are locked down.”

“Superguy?”

“Really?” said Remus flatly, “I don’t even have a little ‘thanks’ for saving your life?”

“That’s not how we work,” replied Regulus, lightly shrugging, “So? Superguy, you said?”

“Yeah, the Metropolis’ superhero,” answered Remus, rolling his eyes again, “maybe next time I should let him give the mouth-to-mouth to the ungrateful git you are.”

“Maybe let me die next time,” deadpanned Regulus.

“Maybe I’ll even do the strangling next time,” outbid Remus.

“Well, that’d be-” Regulus cut himself off at the sight of a blue figure flying to them at superspeed.

“You’re well?” Superman asked with a shy smile when he came to a stop.

“Obviously,” he answered with disdain, “I’m Batman.”

“Well that’s good news!” replied Superman, his grin widening.

“Here,” he continued, handing him a glass of water, “that could do some good to your throat, yeah? I bet it’s so dry after everything.”

He was right.

His throat was burning each time he swallowed his saliva.

“You should know it’s dangerous to accept glasses from strangers,” he replied, nonetheless.

He didn’t need his help.

He was Batman.

“You’re right,” Superman said, a little chuckle escaping him, and he disappeared before coming back a second later.

God, this speed thing was annoying.

“Here, a sealed water bottle.”

Regulus eyed it. He could reply that Superman could have very well opened it before sealing it again with his powers, but he was so thirsty.

He took the water bottle without a word and took big sips of it, Superman’s eyes not leaving him, a smile still plastered on his face.

Remus coughed, “Well, I’ve got work to do, so…”

Superman hummed and Batman nodded.

Remus then came close to Regulus to whisper in his ear, “Find me after, I need to tell you something.”

“Ok,” he whispered, almost inaudibly, in response, and Remus left.

🦇

Superman then plopped down beside him, “I’m Superman by the way,” he extended his hand, “so, you know, next time I give you a glass of water, I won’t be a stranger.”

Regulus raised his eyebrow at Superman’s hand, even though he wouldn’t be able to see it with the mask.

He ignored it with purpose, “There won’t be a next time.”

Superman dropped his hand, but his grin did not fade.

“Yeah, I suppose you wouldn’t like it if you being strangled became a recurring thing.”

Regulus stayed silent but Superman must have misinterpreted it because he then blurted out, “I mean, if you like that kind of things, it’s ok, like, I’m not judging, I just thought that, you know, considering the situation and everything…”

Regulus rolled his eyes and got up.

“You’re ok? Maybe you should rest a little more?” Superman frowned, his grin finally gone.

“I’ve got things to do,” he replied coldly.

“No, I promise everything is settled. You should sit,” he patted the ground next to him.

“Don’t tell me what I should do,” Regulus shot him a mean look and left.

🦇

Dorcas POV

A blonde police officer was standing in front of her.

Dorcas did not like the police.

Dorcas did not like this Officer Marlene McKinnon.

“Shoot.”

“What?” replied the officer, blinking her green almond eyes.

“You said you needed to ask me some questions, so shoot. I’m tired and I just want to go home. I won’t stand there in front of you looking at me like a hypnotized fish all night.”

“I was not,” belied the woman.

Dorcas just raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

“I- I mean, I just didn’t expect-” she staggered, her eyes moving in every direction except Dorcas’.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t expect you to be… uh,” her light eyes finally settled on Dorcas, “looking like this,” she said, her hands gesturing to Dorcas’ face.

Black.

Dorcas was looking like a black woman. Because she was.

Another racist police officer in Gotham City. How surprising.

“I don’t have time for this kind of interaction. Now, I’m going to leave.”

“No, wait,” the blonde said, her hand coming to Dorcas’ wrist when she turned away.

Dorcas jolted.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

“I’m sorry,” Officer McKinnon replied, raising her hands in the air, “I’m sorry.”

“Can I leave,” asked Dorcas, trying to keep a calm tone and face expression.

Pissing off a racist police officer when you were a black woman was not the best course of action.

“It’d be preferable if I could take your testimony of the event.”

“But I’m not under arrest and can leave right now,” she insisted.

“Yes,” said the police officer, her eyes dropping to her feet.

“Well, then I’m going home,” responded Dorcas with finality, already walking to her car.

“Eh! Wait!” ran the blonde after her.

She stopped and turned to face her.

“If you change your mind, you can still come to the police station, ok?”

“Sure,” she answered, rolling her eyes.

As if.

🦇 🦇 🦇

Two days later

James POV

“James?”

He hummed in response, absorbed in the proofreading of his article, “Yes, Lily,” he lifted his head, pushing his glasses higher with a finger, “What is it?”

“Dumbledore wants to see you,” she said, biting her upper lip.

“Oh, ok,” he replied, “Thanks Lils.”

“He doesn’t seem like he’s in a good mood by the way,” she warned him, taking her place at her desk, just behind James’.

“I didn’t expect him to be,” he said, getting up and adjusting his tie.

“Good luck!” she uttered as he walked away, heading to Dumbledore’s office.

🦇

He knocked two times.

“Come on in, James.”

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, paper scattered in front of him, a magazine in hand.

James could see the busy streets of Metropolis through the bay window behind him and on the walls were pictures of all the precedents redactors in chief as well as past issues of The Daily Planet.

“You wanted to see me?” asked James.

“Sit down,” Dumbledore replied, gesturing to the chair facing him.

James did as he was told to do and waited for his boss to talk again.

“Mr. Potter,” James fought a grimace at his last name; it didn’t look good.

“You do recall I made you go to Regulus Black’s charity fund to cover the event two days ago?”

“Yes,” answered James, careful.

“You certainly also recall that you came back without any quotes or interviews about the said event.”

“Yes but-”

“An attempted heist happened before you could get any work done and then you were too shocked, like every other guest, and collecting testimonies didn’t seem right. That’s what you told me, yes?”

“Yes.”

He actually was too worried about Batman’s health and monitored his breath and heart at a distance like a mad stalker, even though he told himself he needed to stay near the manor to retrieve his bag anyway, and make himself seen as James Potter - a shocked journalist who hid during the scariest event of his plain, normal, human life.

“And I didn’t get mad,” continued Dumbledore.

“Yes,” James repeated, feeling like a kid in the principal’s office after a bad prank.

“I was even glad when you showed me your article recounting the event,” Dumbledore joined his hands on the desk.

“It was a good article,” defended James, “we sold a lot of papers that day.”

“That is not the question Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore sharply.

“Could you explain this,” he slapped the magazine onto the desk for James to see.

The younger man adjusted his glasses and let his eyes skimmed over the title of the issue.

Regulus Black, Gotham’s famous playboy, caught with his new conquest

The magazine’s cover was a picture.

A picture of Regulus Black, a cheeky smile plastered on his face, walking backwards into his room, holding him by the tie, dragging him, facing him, James Potter, wild hair, glassy eyes, lips parted, and shirt untucked.

Well, shit.

“Listen, James,” continued Dumbledore, “if you’re going to fuck Gotham’s most eligible bachelor during work hours, at least come back with his interview.”

James felt his whole face heat up. “I didn’t-”

“Sure,” Dumbledore cut him off, “Now, you must certainly know that Regulus Black is hosting his famous winter ball in one week,” he gave James a serious look, waiting for an answer.

“Um, I did not?”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows furrowed, “How-, Nevermind-, Well, the Black Family always organized a winter ball, but, after the death of Orion and Walburga Black, the tradition was abandoned. When he turned eighteen, ten years after the tragedy, Regulus Black decided to revive it.”

James nodded.

“It’s the most awaited event of Gotham City,” insisted the older man.

“Every one of Regulus Black’s parties are awaited events of Gotham City and Regulus Black parties too much for me to remember all of the excuses he finds to host one,” he replied.

“Well, at first I wanted you to cover this extremely big event, especially since Regulus Black himself asked after you, but in light of the information I recently gathered, I wonder if you’re the wisest choice,” said his boss, side-eyeing him.

So Regulus Black wanted him at his event. James thought he was going to run away from him every time he saw him, or maybe ignore him, possibly because he'd already forgotten about him; he guessed he was wrong.

He wondered why though.

“I would understand if you’d prefer someone else sir, but I promise you I can stay professional,” he responded honestly.

“I will be frank with you, James, I don’t care about professionalism. Do what you have to do. I only want results.”

He didn’t have the time to fully register what Dumbledore meant when he said: “You are dismissed now.”

James got up, walked to the door, and raised his hand to the knob.

“Oh, and James? Maybe don’t get caught next time.”

Lily POV

When James sat back down at his desk he was frowning.

Lily spun in her chair to face him.

“Oh Jamie, what did he tell you this time?” she chuckled.

“I think he wants to make me prostitute myself to get him an interview?” his frown deepened.

“What?” said Lily, her amusement at James’ face long forgotten, “James, this is very wrong.”

He hummed absent-mindedly.

“James. We should go see Mary,” insisted Lily.

“Who?” he asked. And oh, he was in a shocked state because James Potter was not one to forget someone, ever.

“Mary?” she repeated more gently, “the HR representative, my friend?”

“Oh yeah, she’s nice. Why should we go talk to her though?”

“To tell her what Dumbledore said to you. It’s obviously upsetting you and she’s working in the HR.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to bother her with that,” he replied with a gesture of the hand, “I probably misinterpreted things anyway.”

“Are-”

“Hi James!” the cheerful voice of Pandora cut her off.

She trotted next to him, her long hair flowing behind her back, and leaned down to peck his cheek.

“Hi Pandora,” replied James with a grin on his face, “How are you?”

“Marvelously well, thank you.” She plopped down on the armrest of Lily’s chair and began playing with her red hair like she always used to do.

Lily might have stopped wearing her hair up for this reason, but could you blame her? Pandora was happy playing with Lily’s hair and Lily was happy seeing Pandora happy and that is everything that mattered.

“What’s bothering you ma biche?” Pandora asked softly.

Lily melted at the French; it sounded so sweet in her mouth.

She always called her that, “ma biche”.

One day Lily asked her why and she just answered that she had the aura and beauty of a doe and that the endearment term came naturally to her. She said she missed hearing it since her parents died, that it was what her dad called her mom.

“You should worry about James, not me,” Lily said.

“James?” she turned to him.

“It’s nothing Pandora, don’t worry.”

“It’s not,” Lily said, “this is something to take seriously James.”

“I mean, even if I understood what he meant properly, he thinks I’m already sleeping with him, so he doesn’t want me to prostitute prostitute myself, just… take advantage of a situation I’m already in?”

“That is still wrong, James,” groaned Lily.

“What are you going to do?” asked Pandora even though she didn’t get the entire discussion.

Jame bit his lower lip, “I guess I’m just going to find a way to interview him without sleeping with him?”

“Sex is not the only problem though, James. Don’t do anything you don’t want to, ok? And if you can’t get an interview from him, well, just let it be, yeah?” insisted Lily again. James was a stubborn people pleaser, and she was afraid of how far things could go.

“Yeah, of course, Lils, don’t worry.”

Chapter Text

Regulus Black’s Winter Ball

Remus POV

“Your presence wasn’t necessary,” said Regulus as he approached him in the corner of the ball room.

The first guests had arrived, glasses had been served, and little groups of people were already starting to form.

“Happy to see you too, Regulus,” Remus snickered.

The black-haired man ignored him, leaning his back against the wall, bringing his glass to his lips with his left hand and handing another to Remus with his right one.

“I’m on duty, Regulus,” he rolled his eyes.

The younger man sighed, “Relax, it’s just champomy anyway.”

“Plus,” he added after a beat, “you being on duty is not necessary.”

“Your last dozen parties literally all have been attacked at some point, so I think it quite is, Regulus,” replied Remus flatly, he then took the glass the shorter man was offering him and inspected it. “Champomy, you said? What’s that? A fancy champagne?”

“Nah, it’s a French beverage for kids,” answered Regulus like it was common sense. “Unfortunately, you have to stay sober.”

The taller man didn’t say anything about the fact that, on the other hand, Regulus had no reason to not drink alcohol.

“It looks like champagne,” repeated Remus, sniffing the glass.

“It’s supposed to. It’s for when the adults are drinking alcohol and kids want some. The bottle looks like a champagne bottle too.”

“French parents teaching their kid alcoholism, fun!” deadpanned Remus.

“It’s just sparkling apple juice,” Regulus rolled his eyes with an annoyed sight.

“Whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever, just drink your sparkling apple juice like a good boy, Commissioner,” smirked Regulus.

“Don’t call me that,” grimaced the older man.

“Why?” asked Regulus with an innocent face, fluttering his eyelashes.

He knew why.

“Because it sounds dirty and you know it,” Remus accused him.

Since the day he met him, Regulus Black had flirted with him.

At the time, he was a young adult, only twenty-one, and wanted to offer new funds to the GCPD, while Remus entered his thirtieth year, just freshly appointed as Commissioner.

At first, he despised the man for his upbringing and shallowness, but he quickly discovered it was just a façade and grew fond of him.

He was still a baby though and Remus made it quite clear from the beginning of their friendship it would be nothing more than that: they would be friends and that’s all. Regulus just replied he had fun flirting with people and that it wouldn’t mean anything if he didn’t want it to.

So, Regulus kept flirting with him and Remus acted like it was ridiculous and annoying but deep down he found it pretty pleasant.

Remus didn’t have a lot of opportunities to be flirted with since he adopted his son, Teddy, while his work demanded a lot of him, and sometimes he missed being wanted. Of course, he knew that Regulus didn’t want him, it was just the way he was, but still, the man was right, it was fun.

Remus liked to have fun without consequences.

One time he made him blush. Him. He made Regulus Arcturus Black blush! It had been a confident boost that put a smile on his face for at least an entire week after the event.

Most of the time though, Regulus was leading while Remus rolled his eyes.

Exactly like they were doing now actually.

Regulus leaned in his space wearing a mischievous smirk on his face, his black curls brushing Remus’ cheekbone. “Oh please, Commissioner Lupin, handcuff me, I’m a bad boy” he murmured in his ear, the hint of a laugh audible in his voice.

“Don’t sexualize my job!” Remus cried out, pushing him gently back to his place.

“Don’t have a sexy job then,” the younger man shrugged.

Remus coughed, not knowing what to respond next.

He took a sip of his drink. “By the way, you’re better? Last week’s party must have been pretty shaking, right? I know you’re used to this kind of thing, but last time seemed more violent. I mean, I know you hid during the whole thing, but still, you’re ok?”

Remus gaze dropped to Regulus’ black turtleneck before making his way back to his grey eyes. He must have marks, he thought.

They exchanged a meaningful glance.

Remus knew Regulus was Batman.

Regulus never told him, but he knew.

Not to brag, but he was a pretty decent detective and even though Batman’s secret identity was hard to find, it wasn’t impossible.

He never told Regulus he knew, but he was a brilliant detective too and he trusted him to figure it out by himself, which he did.

Regulus was Batman and Remus knew. It was a tacit thing between them.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” answered Regulus, averting his gaze.

“Right,” said Remus.

What did he think? As if Regulus Arcturus Black would admit it if he wasn’t. “Well, if you ever change your mind, you know I’m here for you.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m sure you will take good care of me if I need you to, Commissioner Lupin,” replied Regulus with playful eyes.

Remus just groaned in response as Regulus chuckled.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Oh I know, the question is: what are you going to do about it, Commissioner?” he said as he played with his index finger on Remus’ chest.

James POV

Or James needs to stop Regulus Black and Commissioner Lupin’s flirting, or he needs to stop listening to them because he was all hot and bothered and felt like he could see them shagging and it wouldn’t be any different.

They were flirting since he stepped into the house and hadn’t left each other’s space since.

He finally decided to interrupt them and started walking toward the pair when Lupin began to lean into Regulus’ space, his mouth a little too close to his jaw for James’ liking.

“I’m sure your imagination will give you a better answer than me Reg,” the older man murmured.

Every fibre of James’ being were begging him to let them alone, after all they were both very handsome men and James had no right to cock-block them, but he really needed to speak to Regulus Black and he feared the man would just flee to his bedroom with the police commissioner before he had the time to accost him.

He was a few feet apart from them when he recognized blonde, almost-white, hair.

🦇

Pandora was running to Regulus who hadn’t noticed her yet, busy whispering things in Lupin’s ear James didn’t want to hear.

Her flowing gown was flying behind her when she jumped in his arms, that caught her immediately despite the surprise written over the black-haired man’s face.

“Regulus! Mon Dieu, ça fait tellement longtemps!” she chirped.

The black-haired man had a genuine smile when they kissed each other’s cheeks, one after the other. It was a thing Pandora did when he first met her; her family was French, and she spent her high school years in a boarding school in Paris. She kept some traditions from this time of her life. James recalled it was named “la bise”, a French greeting thing.

“Pandora Rosier!” exclaimed the grey-eyed man, “Comment vas-tu? Olala, c’était quand la dernière fois qu’on s’est vu ? ”

Regulus Black knew Pandora? Regulus Black was speaking French??

James’ brain just short-circuited, and his legs stopped working in solidarity when a waiter rammed headfirst into his right side.

The metal tray clattered to the ground, glasses shattering, and champagne spilling on both of them.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” blurted James, going on his knees to pick up the glass pieces.

“Do not worry about this sir, it was my fault, and it’s my job anyway to clean this mess,” replied the waiter.

“Absolutely not! It’s the least I could do really.”

“James?” he then heard Pandora say.

He raised his head to see three pairs of eyes watching him.

“Pandora! What are you doing here?” he awkwardly smiled.

“Regulus here, is a childhood friend,” she responded lightly, gesturing to the grey-eyed man. “What are you doing here?”

“Um… working?”

Commissioner Lupin tried to hide a laugh behind his glass, but James saw it and glared at him which only resulted in making the taller man’s amusement to grow.

Pandora hummed before frowning.

He could tell her brain was working hard from her face expression, and she suddenly widened her eyes. “Wait- Don’t tell me-”

James gave her an apologetic look.

“Oh my God! James! I need to call Lily,” she said, already retrieving her phone from her purse.

“Reg,” she then turned to the man who hadn’t lift his eyes from James since the beginning of the discussion, “sois gentil avec lui,” she met his gaze, “please.”

She already moved a few steps away when the grey-eyed man replied, gaze still pinning James, “Ne t’inquiète pas, je vais être adorable.”

James felt his face heat up instantly and tried to avert his gaze from Regulus’ hold but couldn’t, he was trapped in the grey storm of his eyes.

James was fucked.

“Come on, Mr. Potter,” said the younger man, extending his hand, “this is not the place where you should kneel for me.”

The journalist took his hand carefully and got up, his cheeks burning.

He then glanced at Lupin, who was fighting a smile.

James had the thought he should fight him instead, for Regulus’ love or something like that. Something like that because right now, James’ brain was a bit fuzzy, and he couldn't think quite straight.

“Remus Lupin,” said the taller man, extending his hand for him to shook, once James was on his feet again, which deplorably meant he had to let go of Regulus’.

“James Potter. Nice to meet you,” responded James, tightening his grip on Remus’ hand a bit too strongly.

“The feeling is mutual,” replied the Police Commissioner not letting a single emotion show on his face, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do,” he turned, and James could have swear he winked at Regulus.

“Oh no!” sarcastically swooned the shorter man, “What shall I do without my tall hero with big arms to protect me?”.

I’m here! James wanted to shout, I can be your tall hero with big arms! I can be him any day actually!

He seriously needed to take a grip.

“Suppose we’ll never know!” said Remus as he left.

🦇

“Guess, it’s just us two now,” turned Regulus, a mischievous glint in his grey eyes that made James shivered.

“Guess so,” he replied with an awkward chuckle, his hand coming to the back of his neck.

Regulus had something dangerous in his gaze that put him on edge.

“Um, I was meaning to ask you-”

“You’re wet again,” the black-haired man cut him off.

“Um, yeah…” He let his eyes fall to his white shirt, “Yeah, but-”

“I’m going to start thinking it has something to do with me if it continues,” the shorter man ignored him, his hand coming to James’ right sleeve stained with alcohol, touching the back of his hand with the movement.

James took a step back, getting away from the electric brush of Regulus’ hand. “It’s nothing compared to last time,” he said as he rolled up the white sleeves of his shirt, “see, not wet anymore.”

The black-haired man hummed before his gaze went down to James’ pants where the biggest part of the drinks landed, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you.”

Regulus had his eyes on James’ crotch, and the taller man couldn’t think anything other than do not get hard, James. Do not get a boner in front of Regulus Black. Please.

His internal mantra was soon interrupted by someone coughing.

James blinked. It was the waiter. “Pardon me for interrupting, sirs, but I brought back towels from the kitchens and thought you might want one?”

James’ whole face was burning, and his traitorous glasses started to fog up from the heat.

Good lord why was this happening to him.

He didn’t even hear the waiter leave and come back; his brain was as foggy as his glasses at this point.

He opened his mouth to thank the man but not a single sound escaped it.

Regulus softly laughed as he took the napkin, “Thank you, it was very mindful.”

“It was a pleasure, sir,” the waiter responded before going back to serve the guests.

Regulus POV

James Potter was adorable, established Regulus. It was as true as the fact that every day the sun rises.

His whole face was flushed, and his glasses were so foggy that Regulus couldn’t distinguish his warm eyes anymore.

He chuckled at the sight.

It was so easy to fluster him; Regulus could do it forever and not grow tired of it.

He raised his hand to the bridge of James’ glasses to take them and wipe them with the napkin when the taller man jumped while bringing both his hands to his glasses to secure them on his nose.

“I need to- uh… toilets!” the brown-haired man blurted before fleeing, leaving him alone, a pointless napkin in hand.

🦇

He resigned himself to look for a dance partner when Remus came to him. “Want a fag?”

“Offering yourself?”

The taller man rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips quirked up. “I’m going outside, you’re free to join.”

“I thought you were on duty?”

“I thought my presence wasn’t needed?” replied Remus, raising his scarred eyebrow.

“Touché,” said Regulus, following the older man outside.

“Besides,” Remus handed him a cigarette, “Marlene is on duty too.”

“Thank God for Marlene then ‘cause you’re shit at your job.”

🦇

Marlene POV

The party was in full swing, couples dancing gracefully in the center of the room while others were standing on the side, chatting and laughing as they sipped their drinks.

The room was shining, and everyone was dressed up, smiling and looking like it was the night of their life.

The atmosphere was almost falling from a fairytale.

Marlene wasn’t stupid enough to believe that though.

When you grow up in Gotham City, you don’t have time to believe fairytales.

Especially when you don’t recognize yourself in the perfect innocent little princess waiting for their prince charming to come because their life couldn’t begin without him.

Ok, maybe Marlene was a bit cranky tonight because she hadn't seen a certain tall woman with dark skin. What was she even thinking, woman? Fucking goddess, she was.

Marlene couldn’t stop replaying what she told her last week.

She was so stupid.

The woman had just lived an armed heist and fought for her life, and she had to witness Marlene’s lesbian-panicking and obviously drooling over her.

Marlene was supposed to be professional, to give her support after what she’d been through. She was trained for that. She was a fucking Police officer. But no, she made her uncomfortable and annoyed her more than anything.

Good job, Marlene. Really well played.

She needed to apologize.

She needed to apologize to stop thinking about her.

It was torture. She couldn’t even sleep without seeing her brown eyes filled with hate.

When Remus told her they were going to secure Regulus Black’s party, Marlene could have hugged him.

When Marlene didn’t see Her at the party, she could have cried.

Which she would be doing, when she was alone, when she will be able to pretend the tears weren’t there, when she could cry so much, she’ll fall asleep. But right now she couldn’t linger on the thought. She was working for fuck’s sake.

🦇

Remus POV

The warmth of the cigarette in the biting cold was satisfying.

Regulus was silently leaning against the outside wall of the manor next to him. His nose, cheeks, and ears red from the cold.

The noise of the party was muffled, and Remus savored his cigarette in no hurry to go back inside.

He was contemplating the smoke escaping his mouth when he heard footsteps on the gravel.

He turned his head to see who was coming out of the house when he got yanked by the front of his shirt.

“Shit,” said Regulus who was still griping the fabric, making Remus tower over him.

The taller man opened his mouth, but Regulus shook his head, “Shhh, it’s James Potter.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, now smirking, but didn’t dare say anything.

“Just, can you hide me or something?”

Remus’ wry grin widened, but he nodded, leaning more against the grey-eyed man and putting his hands on the wall on both sides of his face, his cigarette tucked between two fingers. “You owe me the whole story by the way,” he whispered.

“What story?” Regulus replied.

“About why you’re running from the cute journalist who you adored getting flustered a few moments ago.”

“It’s- Shit. I think he’s coming. Do something!”

“What do you want me to do?” he shout-whispered.

“I don’t know! Something!” Regulus pressed him, “something that will get him to leave!”

“I don’t-” began Remus before being interrupted by Regulus moaning. “Oh~, Remmmus~”

He was so done with this man.

Why? Just, why.

“Mmmmh~ You’re so good!” continued the black-haired man, letting his head hit the wall behind him.

“Do you have no shame?” Remus shout-whispered.

“Not with you, babe,” winked Regulus.

Well, that was one way to answer his question.

“Did it at least work?” he asked as he turned his head before being stopped by Regulus’ hand.

“Wait, that’s too obvious,” he whispered. He then swiftly man-handled Remus, his back hitting the wall where Regulus’ was a few seconds ago.

“Ouch! I have enough scars like that, cunt!”

Regulus just rolled his eyes, “Is he still there? Yes or no?”

“Um, yeah.”

The poor journalist was standing near the manor’s door, arms hanging down and mouth open.

Regulus groaned, burying his head in Remus’ chest, “Why?”

“Maybe he likes to watch,” shrugged the taller man, “or maybe he’s shocked, froze by what he heard. You gave him traumas, Reg,” he petted his head in compassion.

“Yeah, that or, most likely, he needs a new scoop,” the black-haired man mumbled, still in Remus’ chest before raising his head. “Ok, new plan, I run, you stay to stop him if he follows me. If you could occupy him for like five minutes outside, it would be great.”

“Reg, no, sto-”

The shorter man got on his tiptoes and kissed his cheek, “Thanks, you’re the best!”, before leaving hastily.

🦇

Regulus POV

Once he was out of sight, Regulus ran to the secret entrance to the Batcave hidden in his garden.

He didn’t have much time to act.

🦇

Once he had his Batman’s suit on, he got out and used his grapple gun, landing easily on his rooftop. He then walked carefully, trying not to make any noise, approaching the corner of the roof where he’d be able to see Remus and James Potter.

They were discussing together, or well Remus was talking and James politely nodding along but Regulus couldn’t make out their words.

After checking his watch, Remus left, shaking James’ hand with a nod.

When the sandy-haired man passed the door, Batman decided it was time for him to put his plan to execution.

🦇

James POV

“Mister Potter,” he heard a grave voice behind him.

He faked a jumpscare even though he saw Batman on the roof observing him and Lupin together a few moments earlier.

“Hi,” turned James, staggering, “uh, hi, um Batman, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need something from you,” he responded, his voice low.

James didn’t like his white lenses; he couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it was putting him on edge.

“Oh yeah?” he responded, adjusting his glasses with a knuckle.

“Yes.”

“What do you need?” James asked when Batman didn’t elaborate.

“I need you to tell Superman we have very urging things to discuss,” the man replied, “You can do that, right? Reach him?”

“Yes, right. Absolutely.”

Chapter Text

One week earlier

Batcave

Kreacher POV

“Master Regulus?” Kreacher entered the Batcave, holding a silver tray with both hands.

He was answered by a grunt further into the cave and followed the noise.

He found Regulus slumped at his desk, watching his multiples screen in the dark, surrounded by a dozen empty coffee cups and many cigarette butts, his hands in his hair, messy from it.

When he turned, Kreacher saw how tired his eyes were, black greasepaint smudged around it.

“Good Lord! Master Regulus!” the butler exclaimed. “I didn’t say anything before, but it’s enough now, you haven’t slept for two days and didn’t eat your lunches!” scowled Kreacher, firmly placing the tray down, in front of his master.

Regulus whined at the noise.

“I had coffee already!” he defended himself and Kreacher thought his eyes were going to pop out his sockets from how wide he opened them, making his eyebrows go the furthest up they could.

He forced a fork and knife into his master’s hands and ordered him to eat before turning on the desk lamp. It was maybe a cave, but it wasn’t a reason for it to be as dark as it was.

Regulus whined more and covered his eyes with his wrists, his hands holding the cutlery. “Kreacherrr, I have a migraine! Please.”

“No, no, no,” replied the Butler, “no wonder you have a migraine! Look at you! You didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, stayed in the dark, watching screens all days and nights long…”

“Kreacher,” began Regulus.

“Did you even take lozenges for your migraine? Or maybe Batman is too proud for that?”

“Yeah, I…,” the younger man nodded, his head down, in direction of the medicine box open on the desk, almost empty, “yeah.”

“Good Lord! How many did you take?” Kreacher took Regulus’ head in both hands, his brows furrowed, “are you feeling dizzy? Follow my finger,” said the butler, moving his index finger slowly to the left in front of Regulus’ eyes.

Keacher was a field medic during his time serving in the British army before becoming the Black’s butler which often come handy with Regulus’ night activities.

“I’m fine! I take them all the t-” Regulus’ words died on his lips when he saw the murdering look in Kreacher’s eyes.

“Follow. my. finger.”

The grey-eyed man sighed but he knew it was useless to argue.

When Kreacher calmed down upon seeing Regulus was as fine as he could be with no sleep for two days, he sighed and asked, “What’s wrong master Regulus? I haven’t seen you like this since you and…”

Regulus immediately pulled away from the older man’s hands which fell at his side. “Since what, Kreacher?” he dared him to finish his sentence.

“I’m sorry,” the butler took a step back, “I know it’s a forbidden subject. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

A flash of guilt appeared in Regulus’ eyes, and he softened, “I’m sorry Kreacher, I’m tired and I don’t like to remember… this part of my life,” he ran a hand over his face, his eye makeup smudging more.

“I know, that’s why I shouldn’t have let myself slip,” the butler bowed his head.

“No, you don’t have to watch your every word because of me, Kreacher,” he sighed.

“Besides,” he met his eyes with a grave look, “You’re right. It’s happening again. He’s back.”

Kreacher shook his head, his eyes widening, “No… No. It can’t be. He’s in Arkham.”

“He was in Arkham,” corrected Regulus. “He escaped.”

“No. He can’t. You- Master Regulus, you were finally forgetting about him. He doesn’t have the right to do this.”

“Yes, well it’s not like that was going to stop him, Kreacher. He’s a criminal, ok? A killer,” snapped Regulus, “one who does it for fun, moreover.”

“When did he escape?” the butler asked, still alarmed.

“Two days ago, Remus told me after the charity fund.” Kreacher nodded in response, trying to regain his composure, “do you know how?”

“There was a power cut at the asylum, and just like that he was gone.”

“Did other prisoners escape? Do you think he had help?” asked the butler.

“No and I don’t know, Kreacher,” Regulus responded taking a bite of his bread, “there’s no evidence of his escape, he just disappeared into the night.”

Kreacher hummed, “Do you reckon he will come to you? Since he knows your secret identity…”

Regulus handed him a letter that was lying on the desk, not answering.

FOR BATSY was written on the envelope in a smudge red ink, all capitals.

“I found it at the door this morning when I returned from patrol. You were still asleep,” explained Regulus.

Kreacher opened it. Inside was the ripped cover of a magazine and a Joker playing card.

On the magazine cover was scribbled a note: Honey!!!! Guess who’s back from jail?

Kreacher’s eyes then read the title of the issue: Regulus Black, Gotham’s famous playboy, caught with his new conquest

The butler raised his head, “Is that-”

“The bared torso man in my room that was too bashful to be any use, I think you said? Yes.” Regulus turned to his computer, typed something on his keyboard, and pictures of the man appeared on all the screens. “James Potter, 29 years old journalist of the Daily Planet, birthday on the 27^th of March, lives in Metropolis, grew up in Smallville where his mom and dad still live, close friends and coworkers: Lily Evans and Pandora Rosier, knows Superman,” recited Regulus.

Kreacher’s gaze dropped back to the cover. Mr. Potter’s eyes were crossed, and the Joker had drawn a big red smile over his lips.

“You think he’s in danger,” stated the older man. If not, Regulus wouldn’t do all this research.

“He is. The Joker is a crazy man, Kreacher, we must not forget it,” replied Regulus and the butler knew it was more a reminder for himself than for him.

🦇 🦇 🦇

Present day

Regulus Black’s Winter Ball

James POV

“I need you to tell Superman we have very urging things to discuss,” Batman said in his deep voice, “You can do that, right? Reach him?”

“Yes, right. Absolutely.”

James’ hands immediately came to his messenger bag, attempting to open it clumsily.

He then rummaged through it to find his notebook.

“What are you doing?” asked Batman after a moment.

James raised his head while scrunching his nose to push his glasses up, his hands too busy holding the bunch of items he took out of his messenger bag in his quest to find his pad. “Well, I thought I would write down what you want to tell Superman,” he said, unsure, “must be pretty important stuff, right?” he added with a lopsided smile.

“Wait- Could you hold me this for a sec?” he handed him his chapstick, his box of M&S’s strawberry and cream drops, his glasses’ case, a few papers, and a pen.

“No,” answered Batman coldly.

“Oh,” replied James, blinking. “Well, uh, ok?” He pocketed the box of sweets and his chapstick and wedged his pen behind his fangs, struggling with the remaining items.

“I hought huperheroeh were here to help he kind and innoent itizenh,” muttered James like he could with the ballpoint in his mouth, finally retrieving his notebook.

“You didn’t need help,” retorted Batman and James didn’t know how he knew it with the white lenses the man was wearing but he was sure he rolled his eyes.

“A lihle help wouldn’h have hurt,” he mumbled more to himself than for the rude superhero in front of him, while he tried to fit everything in his bag again.

Finally succeeding in closing his messenger bag he sighed happily before picking up his pen from his mouth. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, he began to wipe it on his pants and raise his gaze to Batman.

His eyes were on the pen and his lips twisted.

“Don’t do that,” James said to the man dressed in black.

“Do what?”

“Act disgusted.”

“This,” he gestured the pen in front of Batman’s face, “would not have happened if you helped me.”

He didn’t let the superhero reply, clicking his pen on his open notebook with a scowl. “So. What do I tell Superman?”

Regulus POV

Regulus could tell James Potter was trying to look irritated but the little furrow of his eyebrows and the way he pouted his lips was unbearably cute. His heart melted slightly at the sight, and he decided to adopt a more conciliatory attitude towards the journalist.

After all, it wasn’t his fault if the Joker chose him at his next target. If anything, it was Regulus’.

“Like I said, I have important things to discuss with him. I can’t tell you much more, but I need to see him soon.”

“When?” James tilted his head slightly while preparing himself to write and strands of hair fell more in his eyes.

When Regulus didn’t respond, distracted by the sight, big doe eyes met his from behind the man’s wild curls. They were looking at him curiously, waiting for him to talk. And then, then, James Potter’s ridiculously long eyelashes fluttered.

Fuck. What was the question again?

Batman cleared his throat, for all his inability to clear his mind.

He could not let this man distract him.

“When will you be able to inform him of our discussion?” he asked back.

“Oh, uhm, is tonight good for you?” replied the journalist, unsure.

Tonight? Regulus must have underestimated the bond he and Superman have. Not letting his surprise show, he replied, “Perfect.”

“Great, so I tell him to meet you as soon as he can?”

“Yes. I’m sure he can find me. He’s super after all, isn’t it?”

“Besides,” he added “compared to some others, I remain in my designated city.”

James coughed but he continued writing, “Anything else?”

“I’ll tell him myself the rest. Thank you, Mr. Potter,” and he threw his grappling hook to leave.

“Wait!” exclaimed the journalist.

Batman didn’t respond but he stopped in his track.

“Any chance I can get an interview from you?” he asked, hopeful.

“No.”

“A quote?” he tried again, sounding a bit desperate -which didn’t make Regulus hesitate, even for a second, thank you very much.

“Not necessarily now, of course,” James added quickly.

“It’s still a no,” answered Regulus anyway and flew to the rooftop of his manor.

“Well,” he heard the journalist shout from below, “you know where to find me if you change your mind!”

🦇

James POV

Once Batman was gone, James succumbed to his urge to fist bump the air with a wide grin.

Batman wanted his help! They were going to work together! James will have a superhero friend to talk to! Sure, the man seemed grouchy and didn’t talk much, but James Potter was nothing if not charming. Plus, he was more than able to talk for them both.

He’ll get to him slowly; he was sure of it.

In the meantime, though, James still had work to do as a Daily Planet reporter.

🦇

Regulus Black wasn’t there when James returned to the party.

Upon realizing it, James’ first instinct was to search for Commissioner Lupin, because surely, after what the journalist had seen and heard, they took off together.

But Remus Lupin was here, standing nonchalantly in a corner of the room, easily noticeable by his height.

Perhaps James could ask him where Regulus Black was? No. He wasn’t this desperate.

Right?

…

James wasn’t so sure of this.

Before he could conclude that he was, in fact, a pathetic man, someone grabbed his arms and led him with force into the crowd and to an empty hallway.

🦇

“Wow,” James massaged his arm where Pandora was gripping him a few moments ago, “didn’t know you were that strong.”

He wasn’t actually hurt and could have easily escaped from the woman’s grip, but he was a kryptonian. Any other typical man would be.

Pandora didn’t answer and raised her phone to face James.

It was on a facetime call and Lily’s fierce eyes met his through the phone. She was in white pyjamas with red hearts, but she looked angry, her arms crossed, and her brows furrowed.

“Hey Lils! What’s cooking?” nervously asked James.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “James.”

“Yeah?” He shot a look at Pandora for support, but she let nothing shown on her face.

“I’m going to ask you something and I want you to respond honestly, ok?”

He gulped and nodded with apprehension.

“Did Dumbledore ask you to have sex to extract an interview with Regulus Black, the famous billionaire playboy who’s known to not talk with journalists ever?”

“He’s actually a multi-billionaire,” mumbled James.

“Oh my god, James. You’re going to be eaten alive!” yelled Lily, gesturing forcefully her arms.

“Would that be so awful though? I’m sure he’ll make it good,” he grumbled.

“Pandora, do you hear this man?” Lily exclaimed, bewildered. “This is serious, James! Why don’t you see it? You won’t be able to get an interview from him because he doesn’t want you to. Because his wish is above yours. He’s just going to play with you. That’s what he does! And he can because he’s rich and good-looking and nobody ever tells him anything. He doesn’t and won’t care about you. You’re nothing for this kind of people.”

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t. His throat was tight, and his eyes were slowly filling with tears, but he didn’t want to cry. He was mad because Lily was right, because Dumbledore didn’t have the right to demand that from him, because Regulus Black was Regulus Black, and because his tears weren’t worth it, but he couldn't stop them.

Pandora’s hand came to rest on his shoulder comfortingly, and Lily’s voice was soft when she started talking again, “Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

He stayed silent, desperately trying to hold back his tears.

“I’m worried, James. I know you want Dumbledore, and everybody, to see you’re a great reporter and that you’re not only the lucky journalist Superman decided to talk to, but this is not how you’re going to prove it.”

“I can handle myself, Lily,” he said after a moment.

“I just want to help,” she replied earnestly.

“I know, but I’m not the Smalville kid who just got his first job at the Daily Planet anymore. You don’t have to monitor me. And we’re not a couple anymore either, so…”

“But we’re friends, James. Friends care for each other.”

He didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Objectively, he knew Lily was right and had good intentions, but he was pissed off and still needed to submit something to Dumbledore at some point, whatever Lily was saying.

He sighed, “I know. Listen, I need to get back at work right now, but I love you.”

Lily sighed in return, “love you too, James.”

He left and didn’t turn back.

🦇

Back at the party, he immediately headed to a waiter and drowned a glass of whisky.

As a kryptonian, he couldn’t get drunk, but he was sure going to try.

The music was loud and people even louder, hammering James’ brain with their hollow trivialities. These people were so vain.

He drank another whisky and was going for a third when a woman clutched his bicep and leaned on his arm.

She had brown hair tied in an elegant bun and was wearing a green dress that complimented her emeralds eyes.

“I never saw you before,” she purred.

“I’m a journalist,” responded James coldly. He didn’t know her, and he was not in the mood to talk to a stranger intruding his space.

She squeezed his arm, “you’re so strong for a journalist! This suit doesn’t flatter you at all,” she put a hand to his chest and let it slide to his stomach, making the tissue stick to his muscles.

Of course, he chose a bigger shirt than needed. He wasn’t supposed to be as fit as he was. No man was.

“I’m here for work,” he said, taking a step back. The woman followed, her hand not leaving him.

“You know,” she whispered, getting closer, “I have the money to buy you a better suit,” her hand started to move down, heading to his crotch, “I could buy you a whole wardrobe, actually.”

“Don’t,” said James, catching her wrist and pulling her hand back.

“It’s ok,” she murmured, “you don’t have to pretend to be a prude with me, I know you want it.”

“I don’t.”

“Playing hard to get, uh?” her hand returned to James’ shirt.

“Take your hand off him.” Regulus appeared next to the woman. “Now,” he growled when she didn’t obey.

They shot each other murderous looks before the brunette did as she was told and left, not without a wink in James’ direction which made him shiver and Regulus grind his teeth.

“Are you alright?” the grey-eyed man asked as he turned to him, but all James could hear were Lily’s words.

She was right. Rich people always have what they want, it’s what they’re used to. If they wanted him, they’ll get him, whatever they need to do. He’s just a whim to them.

Regulus Black was the same. The only difference is that James was attracted to him; he let him play with him without a complaint. But if he did? If he had protest, would have the richest playboy of the country stopped?

“Come on, let’s get away from the noise,” said Regulus with a soothing voice.

He didn’t move.

“James?” Regulus’ hand approached his shoulder, but James took a step back.

“Ok,” said the black-haired man calmly, “ok, I won’t touch you.”

That’s what made James’ legs work.

Regulus led him into a long hallway and opened the door of a little cabinet. It had a big wood desk which was neatly tidy, a little library of old books - a lot of them were encyclopaedias -, and a dark green sofa. Regulus gestured to the latter, “Sit.” James did and the black-haired man closed the door.

The loud noise of the party immediately became a whisper and James looked at the door frowning.

“Oh, my office is soundproofed,” explained Regulus.

Although the respite that it gave to James’ brain was welcome, it also meant that the party couldn’t hear what was happening in the room.

What was Regulus Black using this for?

Feeling uneasy, he sank into the sofa.

“If it makes you uncomfortable we can open the door. I just thought you’d appreciate the calm,” said Regulus. It was like he was reading his mind.

“It’s fine. Thanks,” murmured James.

The younger man nodded and brought his wooden desk chair to face James before sitting down on it gracefully.

“Are you alright, James?” he asked for the second time, his piercing gaze travelling all over his body.

It made him squirm. “I’m ok. Thanks for rescuing me,” he muttered.

“Did you drink anything someone else could have touched?”

“I said I’m fine,” he spat, as he finally met Regulus’ stormy eyes.

The other man leaned, getting closer to him and not averting his gaze. “Can I?” he asked, his hand coming close to the brown-eyed man’s face but not meeting it.

James remembered what he told him earlier: I won’t touch you. Maybe he wasn’t how Lily depicted him, maybe he was better.

He nodded and Regulus took his chin reverently before he gently angled it in different directions, looking at James’ eyes intently.

James couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think. His whole world narrowed to Regulus’ soft fingers.

After what seemed to be a decade, but also not even near enough of time to James, Regulus talked, “Are you sure? Your pupils are very dilated.”

His whole face flushed in response, and he turned his head, escaping the other man’s eyes and hold. “No, no, it’s always like that.”

Pale fingers pushed his jaw softly to make him look back at Regulus. “Your eyes are basically black,” he deadpanned, letting go of James’ face to cross his arms.

“I have not been drugged,” he stated firmly in response. “I appreciate your concern, really, but I’m fine. And I need to get back to work, so thank you, but I should leave now.”

“Well, at least he can make coherent statements,” muttered Regulus at a volume James couldn’t have heard without his superhearing.

“I’m sure your boss would understand if you decided to go home, Mr. Potter. I could write him an email if you’d like.”

“No, that would only fuel his suspicions,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

“Suspicions?” Regulus arched an eyebrow.

“It’s complicated.”

The raven-haired man nodded in understanding, but his gaze was still pinning him, waiting for him to explain himself.

James sighed. At this point of the evening, could he really embarrass himself more?

“He thinks we slept together,” he blurted.

“Is that so?” asked an unimpressed Regulus, playing with one of his rings.

“Um, yeah, he saw an article with uhm, uh, a picture? Of us. Maybe you saw it too?”

“I did.”

“Yeah. And I didn’t get the time to collect quotes or anything that day, so he blames it on uh…” James coughed, “our presumed roll in the hay?” he said, his cheeks burning.

“Is that what you call it?” softly laughed Regulus, turning his attention back to James.

“Call it what you want, the result is that if I don’t get an interview from you, I’m fucked.”

“Oh really?” Regulus smirked.

James nodded.

“And you don’t like to be fucked?” asked Regulus with playful eyes, causing James to choke on his own saliva.

When he recovered he said, “Well, for starter not by my boss, and no, I like to do the fucking bit.” See, James could play his game too.

Regulus smiled, “Well, then I better let you get back to work. We don’t want your boss to think we ‘rolled in the hay’ a second time.” He got up and extended his hand to James. When he took it, Regulus added, “Isn’t it Mr. Potter?” And the way he said his name almost made James whine.

He stood up and felt a certain feeling of achievement when Regulus had to raise his head to meet his gaze. He faintly licked his lower lip and watched grey eyes following the motion, “Certainly, Mr. Black.”

He then walked to the door before turning, “Well, that is if you’re not accepting an interview.”

“Why would I?”

“Because my boss literally told me to go as far as prostitute myself to get this?” tried James.

“And you would do it? You would have sex with me because your boss told you to?” Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he crossed his arms.

“Good. Because it wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

🦇

Lily POV

“Are you alright, ma biche?” asked Pandora gently.

“Yeah,” replied Lily, running a hand through her hair. “It’s just that, I can stop worrying about him.”

“I know. And it’s normal, you love him.”

Lily hummed. “And also, I just learned that one of my best friends for a year now is a billionaire and didn’t tell me?” she laughed.

“I didn’t want people at work to treat me differently so I gathered I wouldn’t talk about it, and then I forgot. I’m sorry. But also, you’re a journalist, ma biche, you should have known if you read papers.”

Lily faked a gasp, “So this is my fault, now?”

Pandora laughed lightly, making her want to bottle the sound.

After a moment she said, “You know, for what it worth, I don’t think Regulus is like you think he is.”

“And you know Regulus Black, too?”

“Yes, since forever actually. He was my best friend growing up.”

“What?” Lily exclaimed, “You let me talk about your best friend like that?”

“Well, I hadn’t seen him for a long time. I went to highschool in France and stayed there for a bit and well, as you know, I moved to Metropolis last year. I didn’t come back to Gotham since my teenage years. Maybe he has changed since then. Especially because even before I left, we didn't see each other as much as before; he was dealing with grief.”

“Perhaps, I was wrong to talk about him without knowing him. I just read so many articles and heard so many rumours about him.”

“I get it,” said Pandora, “but give him a chance would you?”

“For you, I will.”

“Now, how come you’re working at the Daily Planet, if you have enough money not to?” joked Lily.

“Well, for what else but a gorgeous witty redhead journalist?” she answered with a smile.

Lily breath hitched and before she could find something to respond, she saw a woman’s arm locking amicably around Pandora’s neck.

“Pandora! As beautiful as last time I saw you!”

“Dorcas! What are you doing here?” Pandora replied, leaning to peck her cheeks, forgetting about her phone and Lily who lost sight of the scene.

She was breathtaking, Lily thought while trying to supress her jealousy. She had a beautiful dark skin, plumped lips and eyes you could kill for, and was wearing golden makeup on her cheekbones, complimenting the golden jewellery she had in her hair.

“Getting away from a too-persistent woman,” she replied with a chuckle, “You?”

“Oh, I was talking to Lily. She's a friend from work,” she raised her phone, “Lily, Dorcas, Dorcas, Lily,” she said with a radiant smile.

“Hi Lily!” chirped Dorcas while she rested her chin on Pandora’s shoulder to get in the frame.

“Hi Dorcas.”

Chapter Text

Pandora POV

“And get this, girls, this racist police bitchass is also homophobic!”

Dorcas had been angrily blabbering non-stop about some Officer McKinnon for an hour now.

They had sat in the empty hallway, leaning against dark green wallpapers, making themselves comfortable, and placed Pandora’s phone against the adjacent wall to face them so that Lily could shit-talk with them.

Dorcas had snatched a rum bottle from a waitress and Lily took a bottle out of her cupboard too to drink with the two women.

“No wayyy,” slurred the redhead, “homo is the best!”

Dorcas chuckled at Lily’s drunkenness, “It is.”

“Women are the bessssst thing everrr!” added Lily dreamily.

“Exactly my thought!” agreed Dorcas. “I was dancing with a beautiful woman, earlier, we were getting along perfectly, she was witty, funny, and didn’t look for anything serious. Exactly what I was searching for. After a few dances, I leaned in to kiss her and guess what happened!”

“What?” exclaimed Lily and Pandora, now far too invested in the woman’s story.

“A fucking hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back! And who was it?”

“McKinnon?” asked Pandora tentatively.

“Fucking McKinnon! And then she said: ‘Gotham City Police Department, I need to talk to this woman.’ and my dance partner must have thought I was involved in some dirty business - like a lot of rich people in Gotham, I don’t blame her - , because she almost fled!”

“Nooo,” whined Lily, but Dorcas ignored her, coming to a sudden realization, “Wait- Maybe she was the one involved in some dirty business.”

“Whatever,” sighed Dorcas wistfully, “she’s gone now.”

Pandora patted her knee sympathetically, while Dorcas took a sip straight from the bottle. The former was admittedly impressed by her alcohol tolerance; she drank far more than she did and didn’t even seem tipsy.

“But then what happened?” pressed Lily.

“Oh yeah, she’s like ‘blah blah blah you didn’t come to the police station, this is your duty as a civilian, blah blah blah’ and I replied I didn’t have the time to do so. And oh my god, she dared respond to me, saying ‘well, I’m glad you still have time to pick up women at a winter ball that commemorates the death of Walburga and Orion Black’ ”

Lily gasped.

“So then I obviously told her to go fuck herself,” concluded Dorcas with a small smile playing on her lips, Lily nodding along supportingly. “She looked sooo pissed.”

Pandora nodded softly, but her head seemed too heavy for her; alcohol always makes her sleepy.

She rested gently her head on Dorcas’ shoulder and closed her eyes. “It’s fun, seeing you again, Cas,” she breathed.

Even though she had seen Dorcas more than Regulus over the last few years, it hasn’t been enough. She missed her. They exchanged texts and postcards, called when they could with the time difference, and Cas visited her in Paris and in Metropolis.

Regulus didn’t do any of that. She received birthday cards from him, sure, but she wasn’t even sure Kreacher wasn’t the one writing them.  

She didn’t blame him though.

He became CEO of such an important enterprise at such a young age, while struggling with grief.

She knew his mind had been occupied with more crucial things than their friendship. He had a hard time, and she wished she could have been there for him, but, unfortunately, her parents decided to send her to Beauxbâtons.

“Yeah, same,” Dorcas responded while she ran a hand through her blonde hair. “And I got a new friend, out of it!” she added with a chirp tone to Lily.

“Yessss, I like ya,” replied Lily before a yawn escaped her.

“Well, I think you two need sleep,” concluded Dorcas, while gently nudging Pandora. She rubbed her eyes in response, “Goodbye, ma biche. Sleep well,” she said drowsily, while waving to her phone approximatively.

“Good night, Lily!”

“Good night, Dorcas! Good night, Pandora!” replied Lily, nestling in her blankets, before Dorcas ended the call.

“Pan,” she then turned accusatively towards the shorter woman who was still rubbing her eyes.

“What?” she croaked.

“Ma biche?” asked Dorcas with a knowing smile.

Pandora felt her cheeks heat up and slowly removed her hands from her face. “I might have fallen in love with her,” she said, a tender smile blooming on her lips.

🦇

James POV

James was pretty content with the work he had done so far. He collected quotes from various high-ranking individuals, talking about their relationship with the Black family, how the winter ball was a greater success every year, and how delighted they were to have been invited.

He even had a very interesting talk with some nouveau riche, called Peter Pettigrew, who talked to him about how hard it was to fit in in such event, and in this social class in general. He was a pleasant man to talk to and James took his secretary’s number, thinking he could write a whole article about this subject if Dumbledore approved of it.

He closed his notebook, satisfied, thinking he could now enjoy the party without stressing over what article he’d write. Sure, he didn’t manage to have an interview from Regulus Black, but he wasn’t giving up and at least had things to write about. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t working anymore, just that he could unwind a bit.

He took a glass of champagne, sipping slowly the golden liquid while watching the couples on the dance floor, moving elegantly with the flow of the music, their robes making a slight rustling sound that James learned to appreciate.

“JAMIIIIE!” he then heard a slurred exclamation behind him. Regulus Black stumbled through the crowd and fell in his arm; a dopey smile plastered on his angel-like face. His hair was a mess of black curls, his eyes were unfocused, his cheeks wore a light blush, and he wasn’t wearing his black turtleneck anymore. Instead, his white shirt was open until his sternum and not even buttoned correctly, it was messing with James’ head.

“Your shirt isn’t buttoned correctly,” he stated.

Regulus took a step back to look down at himself, but he lost his footing, and James had to steady him.

The black-haired man giggled in response and let his face fall into James’ chest.

He was so warm. And smelled like… alcohol.

“God, you’re so drunk, aren’t you?” he asked, detaching the shorter man from his chest, but still holding him firmly.

“Maybe a bit,” he responded, his smile stretching while his grey eyes came to find his. That’s when he saw they had a little green in them, a flicker of diopside. So pretty, he thought.

He shook his head, to clear it.

He had a problem at hand: a drunk Regulus Black.

What was he supposed to do with this?

He thought about Lupin. He seemed like a good person, knew Regulus well, and was trusted by Batman.

But wasn’t he working? Besides, he didn’t know him well enough to just leave him with an intoxicated Regulus Black. The CEO’s mind wasn’t completely his at the moment and he wasn’t going to just let him go with anyone.

Regulus took care of him earlier, maybe he should return the favor? Bring him to a quiet room and sober him up?

“I miss your tie,” Regulus slurred, breaking James’ train of thoughts.

He didn’t wear his usual red tie today, opting for a bow tie that made him look ridiculous, because he remembered how the green(?)-grey-eyed man used it last week. He decided he definitely couldn’t let that happen again while choosing his outfit for the evening.

Pale hands cladded with silver rings went to his black bow tie, Regulus frowning at it like it insulted him, when his drunken self failed to untie it.

“Stupid bow tie,” he cursed.

He was a cute drunk, James had to grant him that.

“You need to sober up,” he took his hands which were still fumbling with the knot at his throat angrily.

“Nuh uh,” Regulus shook his head, black curls flying in his face, “I can be drunk! ‘t’s my party, after all.”

He met James’ gaze and added, “I can have a bit of fun,” he then rested his head on James’ shoulder.

Ok. Ok, that’s fi-

Nevermind,

Regulus FUCKING LICKED at his throat.

“Wow wow wow,” he pushed the shorter man gently but with enough force to detach him from his body.

Regulus whined and pouted in response.

James wiped away the saliva that Regulus' tongue had left behind, his heart ponding in his ears. “You’re so drunk right now.”

“Drunkenness doesn’t change anything if you do what you want sober,” replied Regulus, “I do what I want sober.”

When James searched - in vain - something to retort to that, the grey-eyed man asked, “Don’t you want to have fun? You should have fun, it’s my party.”

“You are drunk,” repeated James, “I would be taking advantage of you, if I were to ‘have fun’ with you right now.”

Regulus POV

James Potter was a fucking saint.

Ok, maybe he was just a decent man, but to Regulus? He was a fucking saint.

A gentleman.

Regulus had to play his persona. Did he ever host a winter party, without acting drunk? Without flirting with anyone? Kissing anyone?

He had a reputation to maintain.

The problem was that he couldn’t put any other person in danger. So, he had to act with James.

Why did the man couldn’t play along? He knew he wanted to. He saw the heat in his eyes, on his cheeks, spreading down his neck.

Wait-

You don’t have to pretend to be a prude with me, I know you want it. Her words resonated in his head.

Was he like her? Maybe he should just leave the poor journalist alone and start a striptease to show to everyone he was quite drunk – nothing he hadn’t done in the past.

He looked into James’ brown eyes. He could feel their warmth through the man’s glasses. He was so… pure.

He stumbled out of the journalist’s hold and attempted to climb the nearest table.

“Bloody hell,” he heard James mutter, “get back here.”

He ignored him.

Once, he was standing on the middle of the round table, he raised his hands and addressed the crowd loudly, “hi, everyone!”

Everyone stopped whatever they were doing and turned to the host of the night. “I hope you’re enjoying the party, but if you don’t, well, I know just how to cheer you up! Who wants to see Regulus Black strip?” he shouted to the crowd before laughing at the cheers, he even saw Remus rolling his eyes in the background. He knew the police commissioner thought he would avoid the R.A.B. striptease™️ for tonight, because of the bruises on his throat. He underestimated Regulus’ makeup skills.

However, before the playboy could open even one more button of his shirt, a large hand stopped him. “Sorry everyone, I think we’re gonna have to postpone this to another night,” said James, instantly being booed.

James Potter was a gentleman.

“Sorry,” he repeated weakly, easing Regulus off the table, and swiftly leading him to the nearest hallway and into the nearest room – the billiard room.

Immediately after closing the door, he shouted, “What the heck, mate?”

It made Regulus laugh, a real laugh. Did someone even call him mate before?

He saw James’ nervousness being eased away while he calmed down, still smiling at the journalist’s words.

He then tried to sit on the pool table while still acting drunk, but James came behind him and lifted him by his waist before Regulus succeeded to climb the furniture. He put him down on the green fabric of the pool table carefully and wandered around.

Fuck. What was that? What- Why was James unaffected?

“You wouldn’t happen to have water or food in here, would you?” suddenly asked the brown-haired man, after inspecting his liquor table.

“N- No,” he responded, still lost from being manhandled so easily by the taller man, still feeling the burning prints of his large hands on his sides.

“Inconvenient…” mumbled James before looking him up and down. Regulus let himself fall back on the pool table; the man’s doe eyes were too concerned for the black-haired man to bear. He would have preferred James checking him out.

“Can I leave you here?” he asked, “I’ll come back quickly, I promise. Just stay here and don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

Regulus grunted in approval, and he heard the door close.

Now, what shall he do? His plan had kind of backfired… Or perhaps… Perhaps, it didn’t? People saw him making a fool of himself and leaving with a hot man whose actions could have been interpreted as possessive.

Even though Regulus Black doesn’t belong to anyone ever, it wasn’t too bad.

🦇

The door soon reopened, only to be closed a second later.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t find real food, only ‘canapés?’, that’s what the waiter told me it was called, anyway. It’s so tiny.”

“It’s not the size that matters, Jamie,” he slurred, still laying on the pool table and making grabby hands to where the sound of James’ voice was coming.

He was playing a drunk playboy with few braincells, ok? Let him be.

When James approached holding a tray and a glass of water, Regulus pushed himself up on his elbows and inspected them, wordlessly.

“Also, I didn’t find a drop of water, or anything without alcohol, back to the party, so it’s tap water,” continued James, “From the toilet tap” he added after a beat, “I emptied a glass of whisky.”

“Thanks Jamie,” he replied honestly.

He watched the blush spread on the journalist’s cheeks.

“No problem.” The brown-eyed man then cleared his throat before saying, “Could you- Could you not call me that?”

Regulus took the glass from James’ hand, brushing their fingers, and took a sip of it. He then tilted his head to the side, trying to look clueless and fluttering his eyelashes, “Jamie?”

“Y-Yeah,” James’ gaze fell down to his shoes. That just couldn’t do. The black-haired man raised the journalist’s chin with two fingers, so that their eyes met again.

“Why?” he tilted his head more, “I like it.” He played with the name, “Jamie, Jaaamie, Jammmmie, Jamie.”

“I- We- I don’t know you. And… And you don’t know me.”

“Nothing that can’t be arranged,” shrugged Regulus.

“Can you just call me James? Please.”

He pouted a bit for the show, but sighed, “Fine. James.”

“Thank you.”

Regulus took another gulp of water and wiped his wet lips with the back of his hands.

“You should eat too,” said James. “Here, eat… whatever this is,” he held a canapé with two fingers in front of him.

That’s a truffle brie, James! Regulus wanted to shout. This is not ‘whatever’! He used all his self-restraint to plaster a dopey smile instead, “That’s my favourite!” He opened his mouth, leaned, and took the hors d’œuvre straight from James’ hand, letting his tongue dart against his fingers.

A yelp escaped the journalist’s lips, and Regulus bit at his fingers before detaching his mouth from them, supressing a smirk.

He chewed on the canapé with sinful moans to really sell it, “Mmmmmhhh this is- mmmmhhh so gooood,” he closed his eyes in ‘pleasure’.

When he opened them, James was maroon, eyes wide, and jaw hanging in shock.

Not breaking eye contact, Regulus just opened his mouth to the journalist, waiting for another canapé.

“I- I don’t,” stuttered the man, “this- it’s-” He shook his head while closing firmly his eyes. “I shouldn’t do this.”

“Feed me?” asked Regulus.

James opened his eyes, he looked afraid. Afraid of Regulus? Or himself? 

“I need to eat; you told me so.”

“You- You can eat by yourself. You don’t need me.”

“I need you,” Regulus said with the best fuck-me eyes he could muster.

James shook his head again, “No you don’t,” his voice broke.

“Please?”

“This- This feels wrong.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think I should... see you like this,” said James, “you’re not yourself right now, you’re drunk.”

“You quite repeat yourself, Jamie,” Regulus rolled his eyes while taking another canapé from the tray. Foie gras, he believed. “And yet, you are contradicting yourself.”

The journalist frowned, “When did I-”

“Shhh,” Regulus put his index finger in front of James’ lips. “You’d know, if you’d let me talk.” He changed of finger, playing with his thumb on James’ bottom lip, tugging at it lightly, the taller man’s mouth opening more at Regulus’ movement. “You said you didn’t know me, and still, you also said I wasn’t myself. The thing is…” he put his thumb a bit deeper into James’ mouth, pressing on his teeth, making it open wider, “I am myself,” he put the canapé in the journalist’s mouth, "and you would know, if you'd know me," he closed James' jaw.

A smirk grew on Regulus’ lips, when the ringing of his telephone in his pocket startled him.

It must be important. Some big troubles in the enterprise or maybe even Batman related? It was too late, not to be important, that thing was certain.

He needed to get rid of James.

He couldn’t take the call, while he was here. Too dangerous.

“James?”

The journalist was chewing absent-mindedly, his gaze unfocused, as if he was high.

Well, shit, Regulus. That’s the time you chose to break him.

“James?” he nudged him with his foot hanging from the pool table.

“Uh?”

He fucking broke him.

“Could you give me a moment? Please?” he gestured to the door.

James who didn’t seem to have regain any of his brain capacities, walked to the door and left without a complaint.

Regulus sighed. Was he cruel with him?

When had that even mattered to him before?

He picked up the phone, “Regulus Black, what’s the matter?”

“Hi Reggie,” said a voice that made his blood turn cold.

“How did you get my number?”

“Oh, Reggie, underestimating me? Again? I escaped from Arkham, and you think I can’t find a few numbers?” he laughed. A cold laugh.

“How?” repeated Regulus.

“Mmh”, the Joker feigned to think, “would the power of love be a response that satisfy you?”

“No, there’s no love between us.”

“Reggie, now you’re hurting my feelings.”

Regulus could hear the smile in his voice. It made him sick. He wanted to throw up.

“You don’t have any. Stop playing, Joker.”

“Joker? That’s how you’re calling me?” he asked, his grin still audible.

“Isn’t that how you go by now?” retorted Regulus.

“Not for you, never for you, Reggie,” he replied. “You know that, and you know my name.”

“I’d much rather forget it,” said Regulus, disgust flowing on his tongue.

“That’s not how you felt before, screaming my name in the sheets, telling me how good you could take me, begging me to touch you, begging me to-”

“Shut up.”

“I could make you scream again, Reg. I will," he said menacingly, "One way… or another.”

“Shut. up.”

“Come on, say it. Say my name," he dared him, "Barty Crouch Jr.”

Regulus hang up.

He was going to throw up.