Chapter Text
1.
(Cinnamon Girl Boy)
James Potter is drunk.
Regulus knows this because James is not only drunk but.
But.
James Potter is drunk and James Potter is staring at him, eyes following every movement Regulus has made in the past two hours.
Of course, Regulus knows this not because he is staring back but because he knows what it feels to have James looking at him and the familiar pull and warmth has been plaguing his body since he came down to the Slytherin common room.
This was a bad idea. A terrible one. Horrible. He can easily name at least twenty-three synonyms of how poor was the idea of throwing a gathering before winter-break. Rotten, dreadful, lamentable, horrific, atrocious…
‘You seem distressed,’ Dorcas tells him, a slight smile on her lips while she interrupts his very important task of listing how… detestable! this idea was detestable.
Regulus simply glares at her because she is the culprit of this execrable idea. See, another word to describe this whole experience. Execrable, what a curious word. He should use it more.
‘I am distressed,’ he emphasizes, walking to sit on the only available spot on the couch, ignoring completely how James' eyes easily follow him.
Dorcas sweetly smiles and sits herself on the armrest, whispering conspiratorially. ‘Is it because Potter is following you around? You know, this is so creepy but him doing it is very adorable…’
Oh, Regulus is so very aware of this.
‘He is drunk,’ Regulus states, turning around to try and find his brother. Sirius should be taking care of James because they are friends and friends take care of each other and that’s why Regulus is simply ignoring James. They are not friends. Sirius, however, is in no place to be found. Curiously, Remus Lupin is also missing.
‘So drunk. I think I saw him holding at least three different colors of cups and I’m pretty sure Pandora enchanted the red ones to refill with firewhiskey,’ Dorcas says casually as if she wasn’t the one who gave the idea. Oh, this is all going to be a disaster.
‘It’s always a bad juju when James drinks,’ Regulus whispers to himself. That’s something Sirius always says in parties and Regulus would know because. Well, because. There are no reasons beyond the ultimate trust in his brother. He just knows.
Dorcas laughs under her breath for a second before getting up. ‘He is coming,’ she warns but of course she warns Regulus exactly five seconds before James is dragging himself on Dorcas previous seat. Which is right next to Regulus on a very public couch that is ninety percent being occupied by couples.
Regulus makes a mental note to cast a spell on Dorcas from here to eternity. Every first born child of her bloodline will be cursed with a terrible personality and it’s all going to be her fault for throwing a stupid gathering and inviting the whole school. Even James Potter.
He can feel James' eyes on the side of his shoulder, his neck and collarbones. They stay there for a moment before James drags then up back to his face. Regulus is stubbornly staring ahead of him, pretending he is not in this situation, the one he tried to avoid for the last month. Oh, the longest thirty days of his life because avoiding one James Potter is apparently impossible and requires an enormous amount of energy and commitment and Regulus is so very tired.
‘Reg…’
That voice.
Regulus turns to him, their eyes clashing in a mix of warm brown and grayish blue that are complete opposites and still so fitting.
James eyes are dark liquid and he looks so amused, so comfortable, so… in peace. As if this place and moment in time is exactly where he wants to be.
Still, Regulus will not give in. ‘You are drunk.’
James huffs a sound that looks very close to a laugh and slides nearer to him, his arm falling comfortably behind Regulus’ shoulders, his chest touching the arch of his arm. Oh, this is dangerous territory, Regulus thinks.
‘I thought you weren’t coming today so I thought…’ James shakes his cup in front of Regulus’ face. It’s a violet one, he notes. Wasn’t James holding a red cup a minute ago? ‘Trying to keep you out.’
Oh. ‘And how is that going for you?’
James smirks, cheeks so flushed is almost delicate if it wasn’t absurdly ravishing.
Regulus has the sudden absurd thought of touching James which is not absurd at all but it goes in the complete opposite direction of his monthly plan of avoiding James. He knew this would happen because he is so very weak and James looks inviting as it is but when he is like this — drunkenly confident, all large liquid smiles and shiny eyes. Well.
A bad juju indeed.
‘You were avoiding me, Reg. That was not very nice of you,’ James says and his hands — stupid, warm and sneaky hands — finds his way to Regulus’ hair, just behind his neck, softly touching the curls there, scratching skin, holding him up. ‘And there were things I wanna say to you.’
Regulus loses balance. James is the one who is drunk but Regulus is the one who needs a few moments to collect himself when James is touching him and looking him down from above almost like a divine being granting him permission to exist. Which is unfair, so unfair, because Regulus is the one who wanted to say things, things he would undoubtedly regret. He even made the very altruistic decision to just let James live because the alternative would be to let James. And he would so happily let James do anything, everything to him. Hold him, love him, touch him.
It was better not to give.
Eventually, he finds his voice. ‘Such as?’ Is challenging, he knows but oh, does he want so badly to know what James wants to talk about with him.
‘I have been eating cinnamon rolls for a month at breakfast. Did you know that?’
What? Regulus takes a deep breath. This is what you get when you decide to entertain a drunk person. ‘Why James?’
James hums, a sound on the back of his throat. He lets go of Regulus’ neck so he can get his drink to his other hand and very slowly reaches out to touch Regulus’ lips. His fingers are cold, probably from holding several cups during the night and they put the slightest pressure on his lower lip, right at the left corner. James’ eyes are transfixed and when he says ‘You tasted like cinnamon’ it doesn’t seem like he is only drunk on alcohol.
Regulus Black is not a strong man. Single minded, yes. It just wasn’t his fault that lately his mind went from James Potter is insufferable to James Potter was the first person to hold me without hurting me. So who could blame him when his hand found James’, when they guided him out of that couch with too many prying eyes and ears, when he walked him to his room, where he would have the utmost pleasure to sober James up with hungry touches.
Well, so much for trying to push James’ out. He would always find a way back in.