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The door falls closed behind Regulus, and he explosively sighs as he frees his neck from the scarf wrapped around it. Grimacing at the soggy fabric, he hangs it over the radiator to dry. The weather’s taken a turn this week, the first real time autumn is showing its personality with a typical October storm, harsh winds and sudden showers leaving Regulus’ curls drooping and sad while he takes his coat off. He shakes his head, sending droplets flying.
At least it’s nice and warm inside.
“Reg? That you?” comes a shout from the kitchen, voice slightly muffled. There’s the sound of a cupboard closing, and some unidentifiable banging sounds, before Evan’s head pokes around the corner. There’s an easy smile on his face, the one he only really wears around Regulus and Barty, which only widens when he takes in Regulus’ bedraggled appearance.
Regulus scowls at his amused expression, and Evan barks a laugh before disappearing back into the kitchen for a moment. Regulus takes the time to toe off his shoes, and by the time he gets up, Evan is standing in the doorway holding a towel. He holds out his hands to catch, but Evan shakes his head, silently beckoning him over instead.
Who is Regulus to say no to that?
His socks slide a little on the smooth hardwood floors as he walks over, the feeling familiar and soothing. When he raises his hand to grab the towel, Evan slaps his hand away with a little tsk. Instead, he lays a warm hand on the back of Regulus’ neck, cold and still wet from outside, to gently but firmly tilt Regulus’ head forwards. Regulus goes without complaint, letting Evan gently towel his hair dry to keep him from dripping all over their apartment.
It's nice. Regulus from four years ago would have laughed in your face had you suggested he could ever have anything like this.
“Good day today?” Evan murmurs to him as he runs the towel over the back of his head, tickling at his nape. Regulus hums, turning his head a little to allow easier access for Evan to move to the other side.
“A little hectic, honestly.”
Evan hums in response, catching Regulus’ chin in his free hand and directing his head up a little. His fingers are soft, but Regulus doesn’t even think about not going where they point him. That has never led him wrong before. “But good?”
“Yeah,” Regulus agrees easily. He can feel the tension draining from his back, from his shoulders, muscles unknotting and untensing as he finally gets to come home. There’s the sound of footsteps padding in their direction from further up the hall, and although he can’t look up with how Evan is still towelling at him, he relaxes a little more.
It feels good, natural. Right.
There’s a low whistle, and then another hand scruffs his damp hair, hands much less careful and meticulous. “Look what the cat dragged in,” Barty says, and when Evan sweeps his hair away from his face he can see the bright grin Barty is wearing. He glares at Barty in response, but they both know it’s for show.
“Well someone has to go out and make rent,” Regulus shoots back, and Barty barks a laugh, turning towards the kitchen instead.
“You act as if I don’t make twice as much as you,” Barty quips over his shoulder, and then, a little louder as he turns the corner, “And I don’t even have to leave the house!” Evan rolls his eyes before following, leaving Regulus to trail after them.
Barty has thrown himself into one of the chairs at the table, leaning back and balancing precariously on the two back legs as he folds his hands behind his head and grins up at them. A thin strip of skin is visible between the waistband of his joggers and his band shirt, a sparse trail of hair visible.
Sometimes, Regulus wishes he didn’t find him as attractive as he does.
The trailing of his eyes did not go unnoticed. When he looks back up, Barty’s smile has widened, sharp canines on display. “Like what you see?” he teases, and stretches out a little more. It upsets his balance, and with a wobble and a terrible screeching noise he just about manages to right himself before he topples backwards.
“You’re a sight to behold,” Regulus deadpans, fighting to look unimpressed even though fondness is pressing at the corners of his lips. Evan sighs, throwing the towel over the back of another chair before hitting the back of Barty’s head in passing as he moves towards the stove. Barty makes an offended noise, but Evan pays it no mind except for a mumble to behave.
Sometimes it’s difficult to contain, the love for them inside of Regulus.
He pulls out the chair next to Barty, and as soon as he settles into it there’s a pair of feet in his lap. Regulus lays a hand on top of them, folding his fingers over the ankles. Barty hums and wiggles a little to get more comfy, and then prompts, “Work busy?”
And so, as the wetness of his rain-soaked jeans slowly seeps into Barty’s grey joggers, and his thumb subconsciously draws patterns on Barty’s ankle bone, Regulus tells them about his day. Throughout the years they’ve learned that this is the best way to get Regulus to unwind after a long shift. He has a tendency to take his work home, ruminating over possible treatments and choices he could have made differently. Lord help him if a patient died on the table that day; those days are the worst. Experience has taught that just saying it out loud, putting his thoughts into the world, helps him leave them behind until he steps foot inside the hospital again.
And so Evan and Barty have folded it into their routine, make it sound casual and interested. Hum and interject with questions at the right moments, as Regulus talks in a quiet voice, thoughts shifting and organising until they’re at the back of his mind instead of swimming in front of his eyes. When he’s done talking, Evan seamlessly picks up to talk about this new show his coworker recommended they watch, stirring a sauce as the pasta boils next to him, and Regulus feels warm inside.
It's getting dark outside, street lights turning on outside as Evan requests for Barty to set the table. Regulus tries not to mourn the steady weight of his legs as they leave his lap, but Barty drops a kiss on his head in passing in apology.
It’s lovely, to be known like this.
Pots and cutlery are set on the table, and plates are filled and emptied under the steady thrum of conversation and quiet laughter. The ease of it is a steady comfort to Regulus, who never thought he would have anything even remotely resembling this.
After dinner, there’s the unanimous silent decision that the dishes are a problem for later. Instead, without verbal agreement they all end up on the living room couch, Regulus leaning into Evan, feet tucked to the side and under Barty’s legs. He’s changed into comfortable clothes, just like the other two, and feels at ease.
There’s a little bickering about what to watch, mostly between Barty and Evan, though Regulus chimes in to voice his veto when there’s the threat of the choice falling on Alien once again.
(“It’s a classic, Reg! You’ve got to appreciate it at the very least.”
“I have appreciated it. About eleven times so far this year, in fact.”
“Eleven is not a satisfying amount of –”
“I will not watch it again. That’s final.”
“Come on Reg don’t –”
“I have already watched it too fucking –”
“If you two don’t stop bickering now I swear to fuck –”)
In the end, they begrudgingly agree to start The Walking Dead again from the beginning, because that one they’ve only watched once before. Besides, Evan really liked it then. By now, night has well and truly fallen outside, rain beating at the windows, and wind howling. Inside though, they are cosied up safe and warm, connected and intertwined on the couch.
The show starts, Rick Grimes walking carefully and quietly between overturned abandoned cars. Regulus pays it little attention though, instead choosing to look to his boyfriends. Evan, who is lounging against the corner of the couch, but has one arm loosely resting around Regulus’ shoulder, not moving or pressing, just present. A reminder, however unintentionally, that he’s there. He’s watching the TV with interested eyes, taking it in as if he’s never seen it before. Regulus studies his profile, his strong nose, the dip of his eyebrows as he furrows them in response to something happening on screen. The only lighting is the blueish light from the show, painting his skin shades of grey and blue.
A squeeze at his ankle has him turning to his right, finds Barty watching him with knowing eyes. He shoots a pointed look at Evan before theatrically rolling them, and Regulus’ lip curls upwards in amusement. They both know for whom they really put on this show. Barty’s eyes slide down to Regulus’ lips, and then, like he can’t help himself, he leans forwards to steal a quick kiss. He lingers for a second, steady and gentle, oh so gentle, before he pulls away with another little ankle squeeze and turns back to the screen.
Regulus sighs contentedly, wiggling his toes and burrowing deeper into Evan’s side. Without looking away from the screen, Evan spreads a throw blanket over top of them, Barty tucking the corner over his own legs until it covers all three of them.
Regulus’ mind wanders to that time all those years ago, when they’d been sitting on this same couch, intertwined in the same way, but his entire life had been so very different. When Barty had looked at him, and for the first time Regulus got a glimpse of that gentleness he now gets to experience every single day.
The rain beats at the windows, wind howling and making them rattle, but Regulus pays it no mind.
Here, inside, he has everything he needs.