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“hey.”
james doesn’t look up from his gameboy. it’s blue, and one of the really old ones, and he only has 1 game for it so sirius doesn’t know why james is still playing it. it’s been 3 days, at least.
“heY.” sirius tries again, louder and more in james’s face this time.
james finally looks up, his expression a little glazed over. when his poor myopic eyes finally focus on sirius, he visibly perks up and the corners of his mouth instinctively lift up into a smile. “oh hey, sirius. ocarina of time is eating my ass right now. you should give this part a try -- i always die but maybe--”
“james, i don’t care.”
“--you’re good at killing shadow link, i dunno?”
“not to pull a My Mother and be mean and rude, but i don’t give a fuck about shadow link, james.” sirius leans up against the doorframe of james’s bedroom, arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to lend himself at least a semblance of an air of authority.
“fuck you, this is my life now,” james responds, laughing. sirius notices james’s nose scrunches up when he smiles. he quickly pushes that thought away. it’s gone now.
“loser.” sirius rolls his eyes. “okay, listen though.” he clasps his hands together, like he’s really about to say some important shit. “remember jordan? my ex?”
james nods slowly, eyes narrowing.
“he’s getting married,” sirius says, “and for some reason inviting me to the wedding. probably a hate-invite, out of hate. he probably loathes me -- despises me, even -- for so many things. like pissing in his shampoo bottle right after we broke up.”
at this, james silently raises a hand. without missing a beat, sirius hi-fives it.
he continues, “unfortunately,” he heaves a long-suffering sigh, “i can’t go to this alone,” he holds his head in his hands, “there’s no way.”
james shrugs, like he’s some fool who doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation. “so just don’t go?”
sirius opens his mouth to respond of course i have to go, you dolt but at that moment james just decides to lean back into the sofa and stretch his arms over his head, lifting the hem of his tee just enough to expose a strip of stomach.
sirius tries not to stare. he does, he really tries. he hates this horrible, obnoxious man for having such nice, tan arms and such a nice, tan stomach with a trail of dark hair--
“sirius? just don’t go.” james voice jerks sirius out of his weird trance in which he definitely was not ogling his best friend’s body.
sirius blinks. first of all, he’s still kind of thinking about james in That Way which he’s actively trying to repress, but second of all, “how dare you suggest that, james ‘prongs’ potter, if that even is your name.” he looks affronted. “i have to go to jordan’s wedding, that’s the whole point. i have to go and be infinitely hotter than him, and i have to have a boyfriend who is also infinitely hotter than him. that’s how these things work.”
“wait what if,” james starts, a hint of mischief lighting up his eyes and tugging his mouth into a lopsided smile. he’s slouched on the sofa in 3-day-old pajamas, with his messy hair and a hint of scruff, and sirius thinks james has never looked as good as he does right now. “what if. what if i pretended to be your boyfriend? not that i’m infinitely hotter than jordan, but.” he leaves a hand in midair in suggestion, glancing up at sirius with the question in his eyes. he looks so earnest that sirius thinks he’s seen more deceitful puppies.
“hm.” sirius stalls. he pretends to give james’s idea some actual consideration, but it’s just to hide the fact that he choked on his own spit when james said the word “boyfriend” and the other fact that he’s really fucking struggling right now to contain his stupid heart within his ribcage so it doesn’t explode and make a mess everywhere. he’s definitely not okay yet, but he manages, “you’ll do.”
------
sirius is happily minding his own business and shoving sloppy spoonfuls of sugary cereal and almond milk -- he’s lactose intolerant, okay, leave him alone -- into his mouth when the first Incident occurs.
one moment, pleasantly eating breakfast. the next, he feels james’s arm around his shoulder and james’s lips (?!) press against his cheek. sirius looks up from his cereal and into the screen of james’s phone, and before he can even react or make a face other than pure shock, james takes the selfie.
they know each other so well that sirius just has to turn his head and give james a pointed look to get james to explain.
“it’s for jordan,” he says, in a tone so reasonable that sirius feels silly for being so bewildered. “there’s no way he’ll believe we’re dating if all our pictures together are us putting each other in headlocks and getting wasted at pubs.”
“oh,” says sirius. he feels his cheeks getting a little warm if he starts to think about how close james is to him, but just as he thinks this, james pulls away and sits back in his own seat. sirius feels the loss immediately. “can i see the picture at least?”
“of course, you vain boy.” james affectionately slugs him on the shoulder.
the abrupt swing from cheek kisses to punches throws sirius for a loop. he puts it down to james just being james, no different than when he had his obnoxious flirtation with lily back at hogwarts, or the countless other girls he’s managed to charm -- or at least try to -- with his whole james-y behaviour.
when james pulls up the selfie on his phone, sirius is pleasantly surprised. in the picture, sirius definitely does have milk all over his mouth but that fact is overtaken by james’s almost sweet expression as he kisses sirius’s cheek. sirius’s mouth is rounded into a soft ‘o’ and his wide eyes make him look coy and pleased with what’s happening.
“you like it?” james says, laughing.
“yeah, i--” sirius starts, then remembers how james’s laugh sounded just like this when he was throwing himself at all those girls. “it’s convincing, thanks.”
james gives him an unreadable look, and a puzzled smile. “all right, i’ll post it.”
----
a few weeks go by with nothing unusual besides james taking pictures of them doing overly sweet couple-type things—holding hands, smiling, being happy. just things that boyfriends do, or fake boyfriends, at least. sirius feels safe enough to let his guard down, which means that, of course, today would be the day for Incident 2.
sirius sits on top of the counter while james is ostensibly in the process of making their dinner, since it’s his turn today. there’s a faint burning smell in the air and sirius doesn’t really think egg whites should look so… brown? but sirius supposes he doesn’t have much room to talk, since the last time he cooked, the fire alarm went off in the whole building and the fire department came to make sure nobody had died.
given this fraught history with cooking in this flat, sirius really isn’t expecting james to pause whatever he’s stirring to come stand in front of the counter where sirius sits.
“the sauce, prongs.” sirius says, with a vague sense of alarm.
james doesn’t seem to hear him, because he responds, “normal couples kiss and stuff like that, yeah?” he’s looking sirius straight in the eye, but it’s a bit difficult for sirius to give this man any sort of credibility at all because his shirtsleeves are rolled up just to the elbow so all sirius really cares about is looking at the way james’s forearms fill out the shirt so well. Also, james’s apron says “BOOBS” so he really shouldn’t be allowed in public, ever.
sirius decides that the best tactic is avoidance. he says again, “the sauce, messr prongs, if you will.” and even gestures towards the saucepan that james left to bubble in a distressing way.
“look, i mean, i know we’re pretending but don’t you think we should practice?”
and though it very much feels to sirius like there are two separate conversations happening right now, the turn that james’s conversation has taken just short-circuits sirius’s brain.
“er, what?” asks sirius, suddenly aware of how close james is standing to him.
“practicing kissing.” james shifts his weight, uncharacteristically nervous-looking. “you know, for the wedding since we’ll probably have to kiss there in public, but it might be better if that’s not our first time kissing. i’m rambling but it’s fine if we don’t practice, i was just suggesting, you know, an option.”
“oh.”
“can i kiss you, then?”
“okay.”
and james steps neatly into the space between sirius’s legs, and somehow it’s the perfect height with sirius sitting on the counter and james standing up because their mouths meet and sirius melts.
james’s lips feel warm and a little chapped, but somehow kissing james feels exactly the way sirius has imagined it would be. he knows james so well.
sirius wants to sabotage his entire life by 1. sticking his entire tongue down james’s throat 2. grabbing james’s body and holding him very close 3. dying, but all of those things seem inappropriate for two friends just practicing kissing for a relationship that’s just a ruse.
luckily, james’s horrid bolognese (?) sauce bubbles over the saucepan and he has to pull away from sirius to try to save it.
sirius sits on the counter, feeling stunned and a little bit played.
----
the night before the wedding, james comes into sirius’s room and shakes him awake. “padfoot,” he whispers, voice urgent.
“hgffhg,” says sirius.
“i don’t know how to dance.”
“mmmmfffgg.”
“sirius, the wedding is tomorrow!”
at this, sirius opens his eyes to glare sleepily at james. “why don’t you know how to dance?” he asks, in the most judgmental voice he can muster at 2am, which is a pretty good judgmental if he does say so himself. sirius can do judgmental.
james has the decency to look embarrassed. “i did learn, it’s just been a while since i’ve had to dance with anyone. i forgot.”
this piece of information surprises sirius. he doesn’t linger on it long, though, just drags himself out of bed to accept his fate. crossing the room, he switches on a lamp and puts a record on the turntable. soft music fills the room.
“you’re lucky my mother was so mean to me,” sirius says as he steps in front of james.
“hm?”
“she made me take all these dance classes.”
“and to think, they would’ve gone to waste without me to use your moves on.” james smiles a bit too cheekily for someone who doesn’t know how to fucking slow dance.
sirius takes pity on james and rests his right hand on james’s waist, linking his left with james’s right. “put your left hand on my arm. near my shoulder.”
“like this?”
sirius hums. “yeah, now just shift your weight to the music. follow my lead.”
they’re standing close enough for sirius to notice the way the dim lighting softens the planes of james’s face, making him look younger and more vulnerable than he has any right to be. the music drifts on.
"how i wish i had someone to talk to, i’m in an awful way."
in his head, sirius has a good laugh at himself as he listens to the words of the song. after the wedding tomorrow, this whole thing with james would be over. there’d be no more selfies, which meant no more kissing for the camera, or holding hands for the camera. there’d be no more kissing for practice, either. there’d be no more of this closeness.
james and sirius have always been physically close, but spending so much time with james, unfiltered, has spoiled sirius terribly. he doesn’t want to go back to the way they were. it’s hard to admit, even to himself, but he’s enjoyed being loved and cared for by james far too much. especially since none of it’s real, he reminds himself.
the song fades into another. by now, sirius’s hand has gotten sticky with sweat and james’s steps are definitely ready for the dancefloor at the wedding tomorrow. he should stop, go to sleep. stop clinging onto something he knows isn’t real. but james has been looking at sirius with the same unreadable light in his eyes throughout this whole dance shenanigan, with a softness and a something else. a voice in sirius’s head says, he probably doesn’t look at everyone that way. another voice says, he probably does.
sirius pins down his poor judgment to his sleep-addled brain, so when the song ends he extracts himself from james’s embrace. he says, “gotta sleep” as if it’s a valid excuse when he sleeps no more than 3 hours a night, but gets back into bed anyways. his eyes are shut already when he feels james’s lips lightly brush his forehead. the feeling is gone too soon.
“big day tomorrow,” james says, and sirius hears his footsteps disappear across the hall.
----
the wedding, to sirius, doesn’t live up to the hype. sure, it’s nice with all the flowers and lights and lace, but with all the planning he and james had done to prepare for their roles, it seems a bit anticlimactic.
sirius shows up in his designer suit, hair pulled loosely out of his face, and looking infinitely hotter than jordan. no offense to jordan. he doesn’t notice that he’s spent most of his time so far staring at james until a waiter with a tray of champagne comes by and he realises he has only one flute of champagne. usually, he’d be double fisting them by now.
it’s not really his fault for staring, though. james cuts a striking figure in his suit, his broad shoulders filling it out perfectly, down to his trim waist and perfect butt and long legs. sirius puts it down to james always lounging around like a potato and wearing clothes that fit him like garbage bags. that way, the contrast when james actually cleans up becomes more apparent. yes, that must be it, sirius thinks. it’s the contrast that makes james really look so good. edible, even. an hors d’oeuvre.
sirius is in the middle of deciding whether james is more of an artichoke dip or vol-au-vent when the man of the hour interrupts him.
“sirius black! long time no see.” jordan is beaming at him, arms open as if waiting for a hug.
sirius twitches out of anger. there is nothing less he’d want than a hug from jordan. plus, it would probably crease his suit jacket. then, he feels james’s warm, steady hand at the small of his back, and relaxes just a bit. so he goes in for jordan’s hug, muttering a prayer under his breath for protection (of himself and his suit) the whole time, and just barely forces out a grin.
“hello jordan. how are you? congratulations.” it’s too easy for sirius to slip back into the socialite life that his parents molded him for. he puts on his too-bright smile, slouches just a little bit, and now he’s Sirius. “oh! have you two met yet?” he feigns surprise, looking between james and jordan.
“james, this is jordan …”
“arashiyama”
“right.” Sirius flashes a grin that would be apologetic if it weren’t so feral, then continues without remorse. “jordan, this is james potter.”
as jordan eyes james, sirius steps even closer to james so that their sides are basically touching, and drapes himself over the other man in a way that would be disturbing to many people not previously acquainted with sirius. in response, james grips sirius’s waist even tighter.
“ah, nice to meet you,” says jordan, possibly uncomfortable. sirius doesn’t care. “are you two… do you…?”
sirius is about to respond with something much too vulgar for a wedding reception, but james says too loudly, “yep! sirius and i are dating!” and plants a kiss on sirius’s cheek.
jordan, unfazed by the antics, replies with a serene smile, “it’s nice to see you’ve moved on, sirius. i’m glad. you look so happy. let’s catch up later.” and he turns around, disappearing into the crowd.
there’s a slow rage building up in sirius, but he can’t explain why. “well, that was unsatisfying,” he says to nobody in particular.
“what, did you want him to lose his mind at his own wedding?” james asks.
“yes.”
james doesn’t reply for a few moments, then says, “c’mon sirius, let’s go sit at a table and eat some cake.”
so they navigate their way table-by-table, james acting appropriately boyfriend-ish the whole time. at some tables, they hold hands above the table. at another, james feeds sirius cake and some frosting gets on sirius’s nose. “you’ve got a little,” james makes a hand motion, but wipes it off with his thumb before sirius can respond. he licks it off, and sirius definitely isn’t staring.
at the next table, peter is there and he says, “wow, you guys look really happy together. how long’s it been? must be over three years by now, huh?”
james smiles and nods, and sirius is lost in his thoughts trying to remember where he was three years ago. it must have been their last year at hogwarts.
by the time they make it through 4 more slices of cake at 4 more tables, a slow song is playing. james turns to sirius and asks in a jokingly pompous voice, with a smile on his face that can only mean that he is Up To No Good, “shall we dance?” and offers a hand.
what can sirius do but let james lead?
sirius lets himself get lost in the way james holds him, with the gentle music flowing over them and the dusk settling in. he doesn’t let himself think about how james only did this as a favour to him. he doesn’t let himself think about how james doesn’t feel anything close to what sirius does.
in response, the music fucking says, “all you got to do is, man, hold her when you wanna.” sirius grips james a little tighter. the music hates him. “squeeze her, don’t tease her, never leave her. get to her, got to try a little tenderness.”
sirius shuts his eyes tight, but it’s no use. he can’t keep this up. it’s better to stop this now than to ruin his friendship with james forever. wriggling out of james’s grasp as kindly as he can, he says, “i gotta go. er, bathroom” and rushes into the crowd.
he makes it about 10 ft off the dance floor when a firm hand on his shoulder stops him. sirius turns around. it’s james, of course, the idiot.
“bathroom’s that way,” james tells him, helpfully. sirius scowls. he yanks his arm free.
“i know where i’m going.” sirius doesn’t want to sound petulant. it’s genetic, he can’t help it.
“oh, okay, then where are you going?” james’s voice starts to rise.
“away. from you.”
james stands still, mouth agape, hand still outstretched. sirius takes this moment to dart away. he weaves through the crowds like a minnow in a river, and by the time james catches up to his head start, they’re still in the crowd but it’s thinned out.
“sirius, what’s going on?”
and sirius hates it. he can’t stand it when james sounds this reasonable with him when he’s busy throwing a fit and being a nightmare. “we have to stop this.”
“stop what?”
“this!” sirius waves his arms in a way that’s supposed to mean ‘everything’, but it clearly doesn’t translate. “all of this. what we’re doing, pretending.”
james sticks his hands in his pockets and just stands there with a shell-shocked expression on his face. sirius doesn’t want this reasonable-ness from him. he doesn’t care a single fuck for it.
“i can’t stand it, james.” he has to pause here to take a breath, because running through the crowd really winded him, but he makes sure to keep scowling at james to get his point across.
“if you didn’t want to do it, you should have said so earlier.” james has the fucking audacity to look hurt, his eyes wide and mouth soft. “i’m sorry for forcing you into this, i know it was my idea--”
“look i just. i know you don’t want me. i know you don’t like me like that so i don’t want to be the one making you pretend to be in love with me.” sirius knows he’s nearly yelling at this point, but he’s afraid if he stops or slows down, he’ll start crying and that’s the last thing anyone needs. “i can’t handle another minute of you faking affection for me when i know you’d rather do anything else. you can be with anyone you want james, so stop wasting your time on this fake shit with me!”
james has gone completely still at this point, but sirius is kind of out of things to say, so he just stands there trembling a little with his arms crossed, trying so hard to convince himself not to cry. then, in a burst of energy much like a glass cracking or a plane crashing, james yells at him, “newsflash asshole! i’ve been in love with you the entire goddamn time!”
sirius blinks. “i’m sorry, i don’t think i heard you correctly. i thought i heard you say you’ve been in love with me? the entire goddamn time?”
james looks like he’s about to start pulling his hair out. “yes, sirius. i’m fucking in love with you. what kind of friend kisses their friend out of friendship? you thought we were holding hands out of friendship? what the fuck kind of friends do you have?”
“i…” sirius looks dazed. “so why didn’t you tell me?”
“i thought you knew! i fed you cake from my own fork, you prick.”
“but i. er, also.” sirius doesn’t really know what words are at this point, but it won’t stop him from trying to run his mouth off.
“you’re gonna have to be clearer than that.”
“i mean, i’ve been in love with you since i was 15.”
“oh.” james takes a step closer to sirius, until their faces are inches apart. “me too. you’re a fucking idiot, black.”
“pot calling the kettle, potter.” sirius closes the gap between them, threading his fingers through the back of james’s hair and fitting their mouths together.
they kiss for a while. people applaud. people with down with jkr shirts got off the bus and started beating me up. the end.