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Regulus had hardly expected a Gryffindor party to be eventful. Usually, they were simply loud and crowded, bursting at the seams with drunk assholes and drunk dipshits. The music always thrummed in his head, aching at his temples. He always drank too much or not enough. Sometimes, he ended up hungover.
Needless to say, he didn’t expect that, after only two drinks, he would be watching James motherfucking Potter climb onto a large table and begin singing at the top of his lungs.
James’ shirt was uneven, spread open to reveal a good bit of his chest. His tie was undone, hanging loose around his neck like he wanted somebody to pull it. His skin glistened with sweat and his hair was a mess. In his hand, he held an empty bottle of vodka like it was a microphone, shouting incomprehensible lyrics into it. Regulus didn’t know any Spanish, but the beat was what caught his attention--more specifically, James’ dancing to it. His hips moved rhythmically, circling and dropping and locking at just the right points. Each time he pushed his hips, a fresh smile seemed to tide onto his face. He was quite focused--his eyes were closed for most of his performance and his brows pinched together with the effort. The only word Regulus could think while looking at him was beautiful.
The thought made his heart drop. James was an arrogant prick. His annoying brother’s annoying best friend. But there he was, dancing and singing and drinking like he was ever allowed to be so beautiful. Regulus understood then that James was like the sun--hot, excruciatingly distant, and blinding. And Regulus needed both.
“Oh my God,” Dorcas’ voice snorted out high and teasing. “Regulus, close your jaw, you’ll get drool on the carpet.”
Pandora chuckled. “Aw, Reggie, having a gay awakening?”
Regulus frowned, his eyes fixated on James. “Shut up.”
“Yeah, stop that,” Evan waved a hand at Pandora. “We already knew he was gay and in love with the dumbest Gryffindor there is, yes.”
Regulus elbowed him. He even turned to his side to glare at Evan. His attention was drawn back when Dorcas let out a sharp breath.
James offered out a hand to Marlene McKinnon, whose eyeliner was smudged but pretty. She took his hand with an equally drunken grin and let herself be pulled up onto the table. Somebody handed her a half-empty bottle of beer and she took a swig before seeming to come to the realization that it was meant to be her microphone. Laughing unabashedly, she took a second swig with a shrug and began to mirror James, screaming the lyrics. James fell into the role of the girl’s voice and Marlene the man’s. James committed to his performance, swelling under the gazes of everyone in the room. He pretended to swoon and flutter his annoyingly thick eyelashes, even falling to his knees in front of the girl, gripping one of her hips. She laughed as he did, jokingly kicking him off, and he let himself be. He fell back on the table, letting his legs hang off the edge. Next to Regulus, Barty laughed. The sound must have caught James’ eye because he sat up, but his eyes landed on Regulus. He smiled blindingly and pointed at him, motioning then for him to come closer. Regulus frowned and folded his arms, but Barty was pushing him closer before he knew it.
As he approached (entirely unwillingly), Regulus covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. He stopped about a foot away from James, who he heard laughing.
“Put your hands down,” James said. Regulus listened. He wasn’t sure why. He watched James slide two fingers through the knot of his tie to loose it and pull it free from his collar, achingly slow, so that he could toss it around Regulus’ neck. With an insistent tug, he urged Regulus closer and closer. He followed, unsure why, but certain he was losing his sanity in at least one respect. James smiled and, with a hoarse and private voice, said, “Well done, love.” Then, like he was trying to push Regulus’ buttons just the right way, he worked with slow diligent fingers to tie it in place around Reg’s own neck, leaving it just a little bit looser than standard. How Reggie always had it. His eyes trailed back up slowly, taking their time, and finally met Regulus’, sparkling with amusement something like smugness. Like he knew what he was doing to him, at least.
“Um,” Regulus said, grasping for something to ground himself. All he could hear was his heart thumping to the music. The music James had been performing quite publicly to only moments ago. “What’s the song?”
He knew it was a mistake the moment he said it. James’ voice tumbled out of his mouth in a smooth, rolling Spanish that knocked the wind right out of his lungs. “Baila Morena,” James answered. Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, willing away a rising flush, and nodded with as much solemnity as he could manage. Satisfied with his work on the tie, James patted it gently into its new place. “There. Perfect.” But Regulus caught the way his eyes were locked in on Regulus, not the tie.
If Regulus wasn’t losing his sanity before, he was then.
“Dance with me?” James said, leaning a bit closer, his lips parted and his eyes bright against his flushed cheeks. Regulus was very much aware of the four unbuttoned buttons down the front of James’ shirt and the way a small necklace--likely borrowed--rested against his chest, swinging free each time he leaned forward. It was… a good look on him. Nearly as good as Regulus in Gryffindor red.
“I don’t dance,” Regulus said, but his voice came out breathless and weak, void of any real resistance. A grin split across James’ face like a canyon, ever-deep and permanent. He closed warm fingers around Regulus’ wrist and drew him a few steps away into a pocket of empty space. Others danced with vigor all around them, but nobody was looking at them--at least, not anymore. Still, Regulus sensed the dreadful weight of watchful eyes smearing over him. He glanced around nervously, feeling the music pound in sync with his quickening heartbeat.
He was startled out of his thoughts by a hand on his face. James hadn’t let go of his wrist, but with his free hand, he turned Regulus’ chin until they were making eye contact. His hand lingered a moment longer.
“Don’t look at them,” James said, his voice thick with alcohol. “Look at me.”
The words settled somewhere deep in Regulus’ stomach and set his entire body alight. He ducked his face to hide his blush, but he found himself led back up once more by James' insistent hand. Then, he slid both hands down to Regulus’ hips, threaded his fingers through the belt loops, and pulled him flush to himself. Regulus felt his knees weaken but easily complied, letting himself take up James’ space too, the air between them warm and dense. Once he was satisfied, James rested his hands on Reg’s waist, thumbs moving in maddening strokes.
“Potter,” Regulus said, like it was supposed to be a warning, but his voice kept rolling out breathy and desperate instead.
James clicked his tongue and leaned forward, brushing his nose against Reg's cheek. “Call me by my real name, please, love.”
“Fine.” Fuck James. Fuck James. Fuck James.
There was a momentous pause, through which he watched Reg like he was waiting for something.
“What?” Regulus snapped, but once again his voice weakened to something more pitiful.
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“My name.”
“James, don't be ridic- oh, well.”
That huge grin broke out, swallowing Regulus whole. “Thanks, love,” James said.
Regulus rolled his eyes but failed to fight back his smile. “You’re an idiot. Stop calling me that. Real names, I thought.”
“If you want me to stop, I will,” James said. “I just like seeing how it makes you blush.”
Regulus coughed just to have something to do. He cleared his throat, forcing out a jumble of words before he could second guess himself. “I don’t- it doesn’t matter, I don’t care. Whatever.”
James smiled, seeming to lose his train of thought as he nodded along to the music. His head bobbed a bit lazily, but to be fair, he was quite pissed, and it was hard to think ill of his dancing abilities when James was so… cute.
“You’re staring,” James said. Regulus was startled--he wasn’t sure how long it had been since he started staring, much less since James had noticed.
“No, I’m not,” he said, wincing.
James laughed. His hips picked up the beat again, his eyes drawn over and over back to Reg. Regulus was hopelessly mesmerized, watching the music wash over James like sunlight. Like fireworks. Bright and stunning and impossible to look away from.
“James,” Regulus said, his voice raised to be heard through James’ trance and over the music. “I really can’t dance.”
James opened his eyes and laughed again. Their legs were already somewhat intertwined. Through Regulus’ confusion and loss, James managed to guide the boy’s hips and his own back into the rhythm. Regulus felt his whole body run hot with embarrassment, but he couldn’t tear himself away. Especially not when James pressed the fingers of both hands to Regulus’ cheeks and started a bit closer. There was something in his eyes--a question. Reg flushed instantly.
“I can’t kiss you,” he blurted. “You’re drunk.”
“I can be drunk and still want to kiss you.”
“What would sober James think?” Regulus said, meaning to sound somewhat scolding.
“Sober James,” he replied, his voice low--he ducked his head, pressing their foreheads together, letting their noses brush, and his hands, once again at Reg’s waist, squeezed gently--“would fucking kill me if I didn’t kiss you when I had the chance.”
Fuck if Regulus Black had any willpower left--he was tipsy, breathing James Potter’s air, and hearing him say that. He was not to be blamed.
When James tipped his chin up, pausing like he was waiting for Regulus to close the gap, Reg didn’t waste a second. He pressed forward, his mouth to James’, lips parting to accommodate him. James’ hands wandered to his ass and squeezed again, harder than before, and Regulus sighed into the kiss, his hands threading up through dark, curly hair. If anyone was watching, he couldn’t care less--James was warm and both soft and rough and tasted of strawberries and vodka. James dragged his teeth over Reg’s bottom lip, so Reg tugged hard on his hair, relishing the little gasp it pulled out of his throat.
As they parted, Regulus saw behind his glasses that James’ eyes were low and dark with something new. His lips were swollen. And it was because of Regulus.
James hooked a finger under the knot of his tie, tugging on it. “Keep the tie,” he said. He smiled. “It looks good on you.”