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You know those foam ear plugs that cost one cent to make but are sold for five dollars at the highway-robbery functions known as concert merch stands? Yeah, those ones. Anyway, Regulus hates them. He hates his stupid foam ear plugs and how they make his head feel like it’s going to burst, but he can’t sleep without them.
Why, you ask?
Why does Regulus endure eight—well, usually four to five—hours of ear torture every night?
Well, it’s because James Fleamont Potter is a mouth breather.
He snores like your dad on vacation in that cramped room you’re forced to share with your sibling who steals the blanket and your dad who is trying to huff and puff and blow the hotel down.
Regulus has had enough. Now that the “I’ve never slept better than I have his arms” part of the honey-moon phase is over, James’s sleep habits are driving him crazy. He is a light sleeper. He wasn’t built for this. He was built for surviving batshit parents at Grimmauld Place, but that’s another story.
Anyway, Regulus’ brain feels like it’s going to explode again, so he takes the stupid ear plugs out with an unceremonious pop and is immediately met by the full volume of James’s snoring.
The sweet, gentle half of Regulus is distantly reminded of the doctor’s appointment he’s planning to make on behalf of James today—something about his tonsils or, also likely, sleep apnea—but the overtired, bitchy half of him scoffs and kicks their blankets off.
5:23, his lock screen reads. That’s only seven minutes before James’s alarm goes off, but two and a half hours before his.
Whatever. It’s not like he’s going back to sleep now.
Regulus drags himself to the kitchen and starts up the Keurig. He sets aside a cup of black coffee for James, because he’s a sappy idiot, and fills his cup with more cream than coffee. Everyone jokes that Regulus takes his coffee black as his last name and bitter as his soul, but Regulus’ life is bitter enough as it is—he doesn’t need to go out of his way to make himself more miserable, thank you. Yes, he’ll take two sugars. Three, even.
“Morning, angel.” James’ voice is raspy with sleep. It’s terribly fucking sexy, but Regulus is disgruntled and petty right now, so he doesn’t turn around from where he’s stirring a copious amount of sugar into his drink. “What are you doing up so early?”
Regulus doesn’t reply. He knows he’s being a bitch, and some people might call him a terrible boyfriend, but frankly, he does not care. You try sleeping with a mouth breather and see how you like it.
“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?” James laughs, but it’s of the tittering sort, like he can tell a cog is broken, but he doesn’t want to hit the wrong button and crash the system before he even knows what’s wrong.
James hums, and Regulus hears him shuffle across the kitchen floor and feels his arms circle his waist. “C’mon, love,” he says, punctuating his words with a trail of kisses along his neck.
Now Regulus may be a bitch, but he isn’t a masochist, so he tilts his head to give James more space. Obviously. “What did I do now, hm?” James murmurs into his throat. “I promise I won’t do it again.”
That’s what makes Regulus break, because James will do it again. He can’t fucking not, and maybe that’s what bothers Regulus the most, because he decided on that first day James railed him right into the coming of the messiah that he is going to sleep by this man’s side for the rest of his god-forsaken life. And Regulus is a stubborn bitch. So, yeah. He’s not going anywhere—not even with James snoring like a fucking power drill.
“No, James, because you will do it again. That’s the entire problem,” he utters sharply, swiveling in James’ grasp to face him. “You snore like a suicidal bastard in ‘A Quiet Place.’”
“I’m sorry—what?” James looks absolutely baffled, like this is the last thing he expected Regulus to say. And maybe it is, but that’s because he’s too busy being the one unconscious to realize he’s even snoring.
“Every single night, I put those stupid fucking ear plugs in, but they give me an even worse headache than your snoring—! It’s like—It’s like I can’t fucking win. I haven’t slept through the night in two weeks, James. Two weeks!”
“I snore? I don’t snore,” James replies. Regulus feels his eyes sting with frustration if that’s the only thing James took away from his outburst.
“Yes — you — do !” Regulus cries, grabbing his boyfriend’s biceps and trying to shake him. Fuck James and his sturdy fucking frame. “I don’t even need to be up for another two hours, but you woke me up again, you—you mouth breather!”
“I’m a mouth breather? No one’s ever told me I’m a mouth breather…” James says like he’s having some sort of mouth-breathing epiphany.
“Oh my god,” Regulus groans, disentangling himself from James and storming off to their room.
What a lovely way to start the morning.
Regulus falls into bed and grunts frustratedly as he kicks his covers back over himself before opening his phone as a distraction.
His thumb hovers between Twitter and TikTok, but he eventually taps the latter when he realizes that either platform will pop-up with videos of himself, James, and the rest of their respective bands’ members anyway.
“You guys wanted a myofunctional review of James Potter where I’m gonna talk about his muscles, his bones, what’s working, healthy, what’s not—” The first video on his For You Page begins. “I’m not saying he’s ugly, I’m not saying he’s hot, that’s up for you to decide. I’m just gonna talk about the function of his mouth and—”
“No fucking way,” Regulus mutters.
“A lot of you have noticed that James has lip incompetence, so it’s hard for him to keep his lips closed. Part of it is because his teeth have malocclusion… So why is this a big deal? It causes mouth breathing, which causes snoring, sleep apnea, periodontal diseases, etc etc…”
Opening your phone to an unsolicited dick pic is one thing, but an unsolicited myofunctional review? Regulus would rather take the dick pic, honest to god.
But this is just too fucking good, and he can’t help but bursts into tears at the fucking irony.
“You’re freaking me out a bit here, babe—” James appears in the doorway looking slightly panicked and out-of-sorts.
“I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s just I didn’t sleep well at all last night, and then you were snoring again, and—and I got up because it was already the morning anyway, and then—” Regulus cries through his laughter, “And then someone made a TikTok about how you’re a mouth breather, and I saw it right after I fought with you about it.” He’s full-on sobbing at this point, but James has seen so much of him that it’s impossible to be embarrassed about this now.
“Someone made a what about me?” James furrows his brow as he throws himself on the bed beside Regulus and pulls him into his arms.
“A myofunctional review, James. Some girl on TikTok analyzed your mouth and made a video about it. I can’t even be weirded out about it, because she’s only proving my point. I knew I was right. I’m not crazy,” he says, bawling his eyes out into James’ shirt.
“Huh,” James muses, pulling Regulus closer and rubbing circles onto his back. “Now that’s new. I knew we’d get good insurance, but I didn’t think fame came with free dental consultations. I’ll take it, though.”
Regulus nuzzles his face into James's shirt to muffle his hiccup-ridden laughter, and James responds by kissing the top of his head. A few minutes later, Regulus finds himself much calmer, and a wave of guilt washes over him.
“James?” he asks.
“Mm?”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?”
Regulus tilts his head up to look James in the eye. “I was being a bitch to you, and it’s not even seven.”
James raises his eyebrows and grins amusedly. “So you’re allowed to be a bitch after seven, but not before?
“No,” Regulus huffs, “I’m just saying, I’m sorry for freaking out at you. I know you can’t help your mouth breathing.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry for being a mouth breather—”
“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control—” He scrambles up to face James with a scowl. The scrambling in question happens to be straddling James, but he’ll think about that in a minute. First, he has to remind James to not be such a pushover.
“So… You want me to be mad at you?”
“No! I just want you to forgive me, but also know your worth, and know that you don’t need to apologize for existing as you are! Mouth breather or not!” he exclaims, gesturing with his hands around his head like he’s going mad. “God, just—”
“Kiss me.”
“What?” Regulus cuts himself off, staring down at James who’s looking up at him like he’s carrying the next baby Jesus.
“My mouth can make up for all that mouth breathing, if you’d like. Kiss me.” James says.
Regulus is finally aware of their position and feels the blood rush into his cheeks despite James’s corniness.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the studio in like half an hour.”
“Nah, they don’t really need me today—I’d rather stay here with you and your myo-something review.”
Regulus doesn’t need much more convincing to kiss him. He doesn’t need any at all, really, and pushes James back into the pillows to suck his beautiful, mouth-breathing face off.
“I’m making you.” A kiss. “A doctor's appointment.” Another kiss. “For snoring and sleep apnea and whatever else today.” Regulus moves to his jaw and slots his leg between James’s thigh. “I’m done with ear plugs, you got that?”
“Mhm. Ooo–okay, yeah, ah,” James grits out, sliding his hands back where they belong on Regulus’ waist.
Regulus decides then that if there’s one exception to mouth-breathers, it’s James fucking Potter.