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Sirius is a dumbass.
That, in its entirety, is a fact Regulus stands by. His source for this information? His DNA, trauma, and 16 years spent on the same earth as this idiot. When he was 5 years old he witnessed his big brother jump down the stairs– right out of their cousin Narcissa’s arms– and break his arm, because he honest to god believed he could fly, being named after a star. Poor Cissa was a panicked mess, but it was at that exact moment Regulus realized that he would obviously have to take on the burden of being the smarter sibling.
Despite his obvious intellectual superiority, he and Sirius do admittedly, and rather unfortunately, have some distinct similarities. For one, they both care for their appearances– perhaps a little too much, if his roommates' complaints are anything to go by, but at risk of sounding a little too much like Sirius, having hair this good takes time, alright? That extra hour he takes is the difference between him looking put together, and whatever the fuck type appearance Barty has going on in the morning.
Second, both Sirius and he share a very deep-rooted hatred of authority figures. He doesn’t know Sirius’ reasoning exactly, but Regulus' is simple; he doesn’t trust them. He can’t, not when everything they say is spoken with an undercurrent of a threat; with the knowledge that they hold the ultimate say over everything regardless of what it means or entails for him. Maybe it’s a parental trauma thing. Maybe it’s another weird dysfunctional Black family trait. Maybe he needs to drink less coffee. Really, it could be any of the above.
Third, and arguably most importantly, their overwhelming love for a certain James Potter. Obviously not the same type of love, considering that Regulus was the only one between the two of them who happened to be currently (or ever) shoved up against him in a broom closet, in an, ah, not so platonic manner.
It’s cramped in there, hardly allowing much room for two people to move. It smells musty, and the dust in here is probably destroying Regulus’ lungs with every inhale, but it’s so very, very hard to worry about that when he’s pressed up against the wall, James’ face mere inches from his.
“So this was your brilliant idea?” He huffs out a laugh. “James, I don’t think this room has been opened in decades.”
He isn’t joking, either. He half expected to find skeletal remains here, when he first opened the door. Idly, his brain starts to think about the amount of cobwebs surrounding him, and he shudders at the thought of the bugs that inhabit these rooms, the bugs that they’re currently very much disturbing.
“I know, but that just means that no one will think to look in here, yeah?” He looks so damn proud of himself, and Regulus would be lying if he said it wasn’t insanely endearing. “I’m bloody brilliant, aren’t I?” His hand comes up cup Regulus’ cheek, tilting his head up ever so slightly, his free hand settling on his waist. He leans in impossibly closer, his eyes darting down to Regulus’ lips, before coming back up. “Tell me I’m brilliant.”
His voice comes out breathless, shaky, and Regulus feels another shudder run down his spine, except this one has nothing to do with bugs, and just about everything to do with all things James Potter. His touch, his voice, his stupidly pretty eyes; the way Regulus can feel the calluses on his left hand touching his jaw, the way he looks at him through his criminally long eyelashes like Regulus is someone to be delighted by, to want. The way his mouth is there, in front of him, right there, and looking oh, so tempting.
He swallows. “You’re, ah, certainly something.”
James full-on pouts, and oh, Regulus is so, so far gone.
“Fine, you’re absolutely brilliant,” he gives in. God, he’d give this man anything he wanted. He’s so pathetic, but for James, he doesn’t even care.
James’ face grows into a shit-eating grin. “Aw, you think I’m–mph .” Regulus cuts him off, grabbing his tie and pulling James’ face down to meet him, effectively shutting him up.
“Shut the fuck up and kiss me,” he mumbles into his mouth, and James clearly doesn’t need to be told twice. He responds enthusiastically, his hands slipping away from Regulus’s jaw to cup the side of his neck. His lips are soft, warm, and irresistibly addicting. Regulus’ mind is static; he feels James’ tongue prodding against his mouth, and lets his lips part, sighing softly. His hands are tangled in James’ hair, and Merlin, it’s soft. Why is it so soft? He never wants to take them out.
He bites down lightly on James’ bottom lip, causing him to release a low moan that sends a trail of heat directly down Regulus’ spine. In response, he clenches his hands where they are in James’ hair, resulting in yet another soft noise he swallows.
It’s all so much, and simultaneously not enough. He feels dazed, dizzy; he hasn’t come up for air in minutes, but he isn’t sure he wants to– he doesn’t think he can, not willingly, not when James’ mouth is right there.
Much to Regulus’ dismay, James pulls away, ducking his head to take in a deep breath, drawing an involuntary whine out of Regulus.
“Shit, Reg, some of–some of us have to breathe,” he chokes out, practically panting.
“Do we really?” he asks, hands spasming in James’ hair. They’re so close to each other–every one of Regulus’ inhales is James’ exhales; every one of James’ inhales, Regulus’ exhales. “I really wouldn’t mind dying here.”
“I didn’t take you as a romantic,” James teases, moving his lips to mouth along Regulus’ jaw, inhaling sharply when Regulus reflexively lets out a small noise.
“I have my moments.”
James is now working down his neck, mouthing, and nipping at it, as Regulus tries so desperately to not completely fall apart in his hands. But it’s hard, dammit. It’s so, insanely, difficult. James has now reached the crook of his neck and experimentally bites into it, sending shockwaves through Regulus’ entire body.
“Fuck,” he hisses. His hands tighten in James’ hair, pulling. He feels James run his tongue over where he just bit him, and he can barely hold himself up. He isn’t entirely convinced his knees aren’t about to give out. His bones feel like jello, his muscles like chewing candy– he really, really can’t tell how he’s still standing, or even if he’s still standing. Everything around him is a complete blur, his surroundings, position, all of it; the only thing he can focus on is James, James’ mouth on his skin, James’ hands on his waist, James’ breath against his collarbone, just James, James, James, James–
“Shit!”
A sudden influx of light into the room drags Regulus out of his daze. The door at the front– the door positioned behind James– is creaked open, slightly. The problem is, that the door opens towards them, but with the room being as small as it was, it couldn’t fully, catching against James’ back, and sending his face slamming into the wall space next to Regulus.
Regulus blinks, his eyes adjusting to the brightness, and untangles his hands from James’ hair. It takes his brain–which is currently still mush–a second to process what’s happening.
In the creak of the door, Slughorn’s face becomes visible, squinting, his pudgy face furrowed in concern. “Is that–ah, Mr. Potter?” He frowns. “What’re you doing in here, m’boy?”
James shifts abruptly, adjusting his collar, allowing for the door to fully open into the space he’s no longer occupying. “We—ah, well we—”
Look, James is a lot of things. A great friend, an even better boyfriend, a wonderful quidditch player, but the one thing he’s not? A good liar.
You would think that with all the intricate plans he and his mates had pulled over the years they’d be adept at lying—but James, well, he just isn’t. Quite honestly, he couldn’t lie to save his life.
Regulus on the other hand? He’s amazing at it. As a kid, when he had to avoid Walburga’s punishment or, on a more rare occasion, cover for Sirius, he spit out lies more earnestly than a preacher on death's doorstep. It was a skill, a skill he’s honed so well he can do it flawlessly. In a flash, he could have his eyes welling up with tears, because no, Mother, why would your darling angel spill that on purpose? Oh, he was feeling a little unwell but he’ll go ahead and—oh what’s that? Of course he'll leave.
This also meant he never got into any trouble at school. Detentions, loss of points, any of that—he had a clean record, and he intended to keep it that way.
Some teachers were easier to fool than others. But Slughorn? Oh, Slughorn was the easiest.
Regulus places a hand on James’ shoulder, silencing him, and Slughorn's face once again scrunches up with confusion as Regulus falls into his view. “And ah–Mr. Black? You two–what exactly–”
“Ah well, you see professor, we were on our way to class when we heard someone behind this door–sounded like they were stuck,” Regulus lies smoothly. “And, of course, we couldn’t leave them,” he adds, as James frantically nods his head next to him, “so we decided to check in, to make sure the poor bloke was alright–I mean, it wasn’t as if we could just leave them there,” Regulus shrugs helplessly, like well, what can you do. “But when we entered, there was no one in here, and out of nowhere the door closed in on us, and we weren’t able to open it back up.” He frowns as if considering the logistics of the door. “Though I suppose the door might’ve been charmed, or perhaps it was a prank of some sort.”
Slughorn looks a pathetic mix of overwhelmed, baffled, and wanting to drown himself in the lake.
“So the door.”
“Yes, professor.”
“Was charmed–”
“Yes, professor.”
“To deliberately not allow someone to open it from the inside?”
“Yes, professor.”
"And because of that,” he points between him and James. “You two boys were locked in?"
“Unfortunately, professor,” Regulus states, looking Slughorn right in the eye, daring him to call his bluff. He’s fully aware that both he and James look like messes right now. Their previous activities can be very much surmised from their current states.
He’s also aware that Slughorn is, quite frankly, a fucking coward, which works well to their advantage.
“It’s unfortunate really,” Regulus continues without faltering. “There was this really interesting topic we’re learning in Divination–ah–bibliomancy. It’s quite brilliant, really, and I was so looking forward to learning more in today’s lecture, but it seems I’ve missed nearly the entire class here.” He sighs, pretending to be genuinely disappointed.
Slughorn stands there, blinking slowly, and Regulus takes his silence as an opportunity to leave. “Well professor, thank you so much for helping us out, but blimey, we really should be headed to class. I reckon Professor Mander would be willing to stay after to explain it further for me, yeah? I better get a run on it.” Without waiting for a response, he grabs James’ wrist, dragging them out the door.
They’ve just turned the corner when James pulls them to a stop, turning to look at Regulus in what he can really only describe as pure awe. “What–Reg, I–What was that?” he asks, breathlessly.
“Perk of being a Black,” he smirks slightly. “Turns out we’re excellent actors.”
“I’ve never–I’ve never seen a professor look so–so–stumped .” He chokes out a breathy laugh. “That was bloody amazing–you’re bloody amazing. I–I’m,” he grins widely. “You’re a gem. I’m keeping you forever.”
“You’re…keeping me?” Regulus asks, raising an eyebrow. “You are aware that I’m not an object, Potter?”
“Doesn’t matter,” James says smugly. “I’m never letting you go, Regulus Black, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Regulus' heart's beating over twice the normal rate and he's so, so giddy, but he instead chooses to sigh, and roll his eyes, the effect slightly ruined by the twitch on the corner of his lips. “C’mere.” He steps closer to James, reaching up to his collar. “Your tie’s undone.”
“And whose fault is that, love?”
Regulus rolls his eyes lightly. “Please, if it had gone my way, I wouldn’t be fixing this back up.” He finishes adjusting the collar, stepping back, and appreciatively notes the light flush on James’ face. “Now come on; don’t want Filch to catch us loitering, do we?”