Work Text:
Ah, ha, ha
Oh-oh, yeah
'Til you work
Somebody told me
"Boy, everything she wants is everything she sees"
I guess I must have loved you
Because I said you were the perfect girl for me
Baby, and now we're six months older
And everything you want, and everything you see
Is out of reach, not good enough
I don't know what the hell you want from me, oh
Uh-huh, uh-huh, oh-oh, oh-oh
Ah-ha, ah-ha, doo-doo-doo
“La, la, la, la, la…” James breathes out quietly, his shoulders hunched up mid dancing and arms sagging out in front of him, his coated paintbrushes between his grubby fingers.
James lifts the dainty paintbrush once again to add a tiny blob of yellow orchre onto the canvas, the tiny stroke creating a small highlight on the painted nose.
He hums and grins a closed mouth smile, gently swaying along to the music. Wham! His absolute favourite.
The radio blares out, and the winter breeze comes flooding through the basement windows wrapping itself around James himself, although he doesn’t care much. He’s too busy moving paint around on this massive canvas in front of him.
When James gets into a painting, that he thoroughly enjoys doing, he’s occupied for a long time, and the patience is truly admirable. He doesn’t find patience to come easily with other hobbies as much as art does.
That’s just his thing.
James smiles back at the smiling Sirius Black and Remus Lupin displayed in front of him, one of his boyish grins that captures the attention of many through one happy gesture. In the painting they’re hugging each other so tightly that they could possibly burst out of the canvas at any moment.
James loves seeing them happy.
Well, James loves seeing everyone happy.
Especially around this time of year, when the christmas tree’s now up near the fireplace in the living room, the string lights wrapped around its branches with a blazing light, different colours dancing on the floor and the ceiling, and the glass baubles revealing friends and family inside of them once spun around on the side.
Christmas!
Many would say that Christmas is a relaxing time of year for everyone, but no…
James doesn’t agree.
Christmas is the time of year where his work becomes more recognised than throughout the entirety of the year, and his commissions explode through the postbox.
He’s happy that he’s getting recognition, but this leaves him with little to no time away from the basement, paint on his hands, oil spills, paint on his cheeks, coffee spills.
He wants to spend Christmas with his boyfriend.
Regulus. Regulus Black.
Regulus who is usually curled upstairs reading his books by the fireplace to keep warm.
However at this point in time, he’s not reading alone upstairs.
James is halfway through wiping a splodge of paint off of his nose with his checkered sleeve, groaning when he also manages to get it on his jeans too.
He lets out a slight gasp when a sudden warmth overcomes him, swallowing him whole.
It’s like being fucking born again, he thinks.
A grey blanket manages to slip over his back soundly, tucking itself into James’ shirt. Two arms snake their way around his shoulders and curve into him gently. A slight breath on his lower neck reveals a smile on the tanned man.
“Love, I’m working.” James breathes out, smiling softly into dark hair.
“I know.” Replies the faint voice. He snuggles deeper into James’ neck, smiling too. “I brought you your favourite.” Comes another reply, and James’ gaze slowly snaps to his working desk where Regulus has now placed a steaming mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows showering the top.
No whipped cream though. James hates whipped cream.
“Oh darling,” James blushes profusely, despite having been with Regulus for four years already. “You really didn’t have to.” He insists, rolling his head around to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend’s eyes.
“Yes I did, you’ve been working so hard recently,” Regulus says, pressing a chaste kiss to James’ neck. “Take a break.” He insists.
James just simply shakes his head, and places his brushes down on the workplace.
“I’ve got commissions, Reg,” He explains, and rests his head back to meet Regulus halfway, a small kiss is pressed to his lips and they both giggle like schoolgirls. “Christmas is the busiest time of the year, you know that!”
“I do know that, and as your amazing boyfriend, I also know that you get so stressed about your paintings.” Reg says brushing a dark strand of hair out of James’ eyes, and moves his own hands through his hair to mess it up.
“Stress won’t stop me, I get paid for this.”
“Hm,” Regulus starts. “Why don’t you take a small break then? Just a small one.”
“Reggie, I’m on a time crunch and you know I can’t-“ James stops as slight kisses are pressed to his neck again, small peppery ones on his jaw and under his ear.
“Just a small break, hang out with me.” Regulus pleads, still kissing his golden brown skin, even still extremely tanned in the winter.
“You know I can’t-“
“Oh but you can,” He says, and moves away from James’ neck, instead spinning the chair around to face him.
James smiles softly at the sight of his boyfriend, pale, porcelain skin, tiny dainty freckles placed unevenly on his nose. Inky black hair desperately in need of a haircut, growing out to be almost the same length as Sirius.
If he doesn’t cut it now, they’re going to be twins.
James imagines it. Ew, no, that means he’d practically be kissing Sirius!
“You really love that song, don’t you?” Regulus grins, and James sends him a questioning look. Regulus points at the still blaring radio, kind of drowned out by their conversation.
“Oh! Yeah, Wham!” James agrees, his eyes crinkling from the mention of one of his favourite artists, he really loves them.
Basically, what Regulus means, is that James plays that song on repeat, at least 4 times a day.
Regulus has actually grown to like it too..
“Five minutes, Reg. And then I’ll come upstairs and we can visit Sirius and Remus. I need to deliver this,” He points at the painting. “To them and get my turkey money.” And to that he licks his lips and rubs his stomach as of to say: ‘yum.’
“Fair. Okay, fine. Five minutes, and I’m going to watch you.”
“Why?” James asks curiously. “Is it because i flex my muscles when I paint, like this,” He flexes his biceps in Reggie’s face arrogantly, and laughs it off.
“Shut up!” Regulus then swats his arms away, laughing too. “I’m just interested, you’ve got talent!”
“You sweetheart!” He laughs. “Yes, of course you can watch me, baby.” And Regulus drags over the piano chair and cuddles on up to his boyfriend, the sun, the light of his life.
And the person that’s, always, always, going to be the light at the end of the tunnel.
His light.