Chapter Text
“BUT. NOOOOW,” yowled James into his microphone, which was actually the forward-facing end of his Quidditch broomstick.
“Shut up,” said Sirius. He could feel himself blushing against the onslaught of song.
“There’s nooooo-where to hide, now that you’ve – “
“Shut UP,” he groaned, pushing himself sideways on the bench to get away from James, so that his Quidditch equipment tumbled to the floor. He leaned forward, elbows lining up with his knees, and took his head in his hands, feeling the silken shag of hair slipping between his fingers. “As funny as it might seem to you, I’m really going through it.”
James, halfway through his next gulp of air, paused. “Ah, mate.” He knelt and gathered the scattered equipment – knee pads, wrist and elbow guards, and, gingerly, a jockstrap – dumping it into Sirius’ kit bag before settling into place next to him on the bench. “Just because you’re out of your head over one of our very own, doesn’t mean I think any less of you.”
Sirius glanced around the locker room, which, fortunately, was deserted by now. “Keep your voice down, Prongs,” he said anyway. “I don’t exactly want the entire school knowing about my pash on Moony.”
James butted a shoulder into Sirius’. “I think it’s more than just a pash if you’ve been feeling it since second year.” He looped his arm around Sirius’ neck and gave him a resounding kiss to the top of his head. “And for what it’s worth, I actually think it’s cute.”
Sirius turned a haunted eye on him. “Cute? Try lying awake for an entire night while your mind circles over one adorable little thing you saw him do in Potions the other day while he thought no one was looking. Try going without food for a day because your stomach is so full of butterflies every time you see him that you feel like you might sick up. Try taking a bloody shower next to him, when all you can think about is whether your body is going to respond in embarrassing and friendship-shattering ways.” He huffed into his hair, which scattered and settled in a new configuration around his face. “Something needs to be said, I just don’t know how.”
Blinking at Sirius’ intensity – although really, he should’ve been used to it by now – James gave his shoulder a pat. “OK… Maybe you need to take a step back then, if you’re not ready yet.” He frowned and stared at the floor for a moment in concentration. “How about a letter? Have you tried writing him one?” When Sirius closed his eyes and shook his head, James pressed on. “You should. Not to send, necessarily, but just to get your feelings sorted out a bit. It worked for me, with Evans.”
Rolling his eyes, Sirius sat up and stretched out his legs. “Right. Because you and Evans are such a shining example of devotion.”
James shrugged. “I dunno. Even with her constant rejection, I feel like we’re developing a bond. Slowly, over time. Like those dripping things in a cave.”
Sirius stared at him with brows furrowed. “Oh. You mean like a stalagmite and a stalactite?”
James snapped his fingers at him and grinned. “Exactly. See, you and Moony are meant for each other, with the brains you’ve got.”
A glimmer of hope crossed Sirius’ face, but when he spoke, it was in dejected tones. “I’m hardly the brainy one, and it shows. Used to be that I could focus enough to study around him, but now…”
“You’re hopelessly devoted to him,” said James, still grinning. “Like it says in the song." His face transformed into pure delight. "That's what you should do - sing your feelings to him!"
It was a bold plan, yet Sirius, despite his inner turmoil, could see a curious logic to it. Just like there was a curious logic to the fact that out of all the school-themed Muggle musical records he might pick, James would fixate on one with the name of a hair product that dealt in themes of cliques and unrequited love.
But Sirius was feeling too far gone to take the piss out of him for it. “All right," he said, squaring his shoulders. "Let's do this."