Work Text:
Regulus Black is always cold.
Cold to his bones. The kind of cold no blanket, clothes, or heater can thaw. Sirius used to chuckle at him and pile extra blankets on him when they were kids. When they disagreed and screamed at each-other he would say Regulus was just born cold-blooded.
And cold weather makes it so much worse. So it is fair to say that winter is both his most and least favourite season.
It is his least favourite season because of days like today. Today where it has been snowing relentlessly since the early hours of the morning but it had not stuck enough to stop him having to go to work. But every breath outside is frosty. Every exposed bit of skin is nipped by Jack Frost himself.
So when Regulus is trudging his way down the street towards his apartment, he feels like his nose is close to falling off and no amount of burrowing into his scarf is fixing it. His ears despite being well-tucked under his beanie feel numb. His fingers pushed deep in his pocket are probably turning blue at this point.
But he has survived the day. And he can see the door to his apartment building. He knows inside promises warmth. If he can just survive the next dozen steps.
Thankfully the snowstorm has not affected the electricity in the building so Regulus is able to take the elevator up to the fifth floor. His hands are shaking so hard that it takes him multiple goes to get the key in the lock and get the door open.
The moment he is inside he carefully and reluctantly removes layer by layer of his winter clothing.
Jacket, scarf, beanie, gloves, coat, jacket. Shoes last. He beelines straight for the bedroom and find warm clothes laid out on the bead. He quickly pulls on the sweatpants, fuzzy socks and large think jumper. The shaking still hasn't stopped as he ventures out of the bedroom and back into the living room.
Because you see yes, winter is his least favourite season because he is already cold and the weather makes it so much worse. He hates being naturally cold, he hates being freezing even more.
But winter is also his favourite season. Because it is the season he can guilt free spend time under mounds of blankets with the one thing that actually makes him warm.
And there it is, waiting stretched out on their couch under a blanket. There's a clear space left for him. There is always a clear space left for him. There is also a steaming cup on the coffee table. He can guarantee the cup is filled with a fresh batch of his favourite tea. The sight alone warms him more than the clothes did.
There on the couch is his Sun. James Fleamont Potter.
"Mon Soleil." He says in greeting. Even his voice sounds warm at just the appearance of his Sun.
"My Stars." James' arms open wide with the blanket open and waiting for him.
His Sun who knows just how to warm him.
He wordlessly accepts the invitation, he always does. He climbs his way onto the couch and into the lap of his love.
James tucks the blanket over the both of them and wraps his arms around Regulus, laying them both back into the couch.
Regulus rests his head on James' chest and feels the warmth soak into his bones. He is never as warm as he is here in the arms of James Potter.
When he was younger he thought James Potter was too much. Too loud, too hot. The kind of person you would observe from a distance. Never too close for fear of harm. He was a fool. Now he sees James Potter for who he is. For what he does every moment of everyday.
James Potter was the first person to teach him that it was not selfish to love. To want to be loved. Showed him that accepting comfort and affection did not make him any less, or make him owe anyone anything more than he was able to give.
James Potter woke Regulus Black everyday since they moved in to their apartment together with warm kisses and a mug of his tea. James Potter left ridiculous post-it notes everywhere around the house with cheesy loved-up messages. James Potter brought him wild flowers he picked up on the way home from work.
And in winter, after work when the sun has set, James Potter is his warmth. He leaves out sweatpants and one of his own sweaters with fluffy socks for Regulus to put on. Most of the time they are fresh out of the dryer when he arrives home. James Potter makes a nest of blankets for them on the couch with warm drinks that he carefully tucks Regulus into the moment he is home and changed. James wraps himself around Regulus like another blanket.
James is the only one who can thaw the cold. James is the kind of warmth that Regulus can feel in his bones for hours after they are together. The kind of warmth he craves whenever it is cold, especially in winter. And the kind of warmth that is always offered by the man who he loves.
"How was your day my stars?" James' voice is even warm. Regulus shivers in a different way.
"Much better now." Regulus mumbles into James chest, burrowing deeper. Days like this he thinks he would only be content in his proximity to James if he was literally under James' skin wrapped around his beating heart. It's Regulus' heart in there too at this point.
"I have to agree with that sentiment myself. How about I put on our favourite tv show and bring over the pizza I left on the bench." James offers.
"You really do think of everything. You had better come right back here the moment those tasks are complete." Regulus says. He wants his voice to come out commanding or stern. But even to his ears it comes out as a whine.
"The very moment." He says, slipping Regulus off his lap.
Regulus burrows into the pillows while he waits and keeps an eye on James moving around.
James as always is efficient and gets the food and entertainment organised quickly and crawls right back onto the couch the moment he is done as promised.
They have a peaceful evening. Enjoying their food and chatting through the tv show.
A few hours later Regulus finds himself tucked up in bed, under his mound of blankets, wrapped tight against James. James who wears only boxers. It is a running joke between then that James' warmth is too much for himself. He sleeps under the sheet and only one blanket. His main source of heat is himself and Regulus clinging desperately to his side.
But, like in all aspects of James' warmth, Regulus appreciates it more than James does himself.
"I love you mon soleil. More than I can ever express in words." Regulus whispers into James' skin in the dark of their bedroom.
"And I love you my stars." James' reply is instant but sleep laces his words. He is clearly only just awake.
Regulus snuggles closer.
Maybe he loves winter more than he hates it. He would survive any cold ears, red nose and shaking hands to have these moments.
He would survive anything and everything to feel this warmth only James can give him deep in his bones.
Regulus' Sun.