Chapter Text
James was pretty sure he was in heaven.
He wasn’t a particularly religious person - his parents celebrated Samhain and Yule, but more for the spirit of the seasons than for any specific belief system. James himself simply enjoyed celebrating, and if a holiday like Christmas or Holi allowed him to do that then he was more than willing to take advantage of it, without any deeper meaning involved.
As for an afterlife, that wasn’t really something that James liked thinking about. It made his stomach churn to think about a place beyond the life he was living with all of his loved ones right then, although he could understand how the idea of a life after death was comforting to some people.
At least, he had thought all of that stuff before. At the moment, he was reevaluating.
Regulus’ fingers were precise as they carded through James’ unruly mop of hair, even as he was fully engrossed in his work on the table. He was working on the engraving in one of the braces on his shins, the silver laid out across the work table along with his various notebooks and diagrams on loose pieces of parchment. He perched in a cushioned oak chair, his hair cascading to the side out of the pristine bun that sat on the back of his head.
James’ felt the pillow under his knees move as he shifted, pressing his cheek closer into Regulus’ thigh. He could be sitting over on the couch next to the fire, but that was so far away. James would honestly be happy to be kneeling on thorns if it meant that he could rest his head on the warmth of Regulus’ leg and feel his clever fingers scratch against his scalp.
It was cozy in the room, and everything was fuzzy because he had taken his glasses off, and Regulus was so beautiful, and he was sitting with James, he was touching James. James didn’t like to think about it, but, at that moment, he thought that he might be able to die happy, as long as the afterlife had more moments like this one.
The hand in his hair disappeared, and James opened his eyes (he wasn’t quite sure when they had closed) to squint up at Regulus. He couldn’t quite make out Regulus’ expression, but he heard the comforting hum loud and clear, so he settled back against Regulus’ thigh with a content noise of his own. A second later, the hand returned.
“Do you have any nicknames?” James heard himself ask. Over the last two weeks of their meetings, James had learned that while he could talk about himself if asked too, Regulus needed more prompting. James was nothing if not persistent, so he took to asking Regulus any question that came to mind.
He wasn’t sure why he asked about nicknames, of all things. His thoughts were floating around him, and he had grabbed one at random.
“Sirius called me ‘Reggie’ when we were younger,” Regulus replied, his voice soft and syrupy, “but, other than my title, that’s it.”
“Did you like that?” James tilted his head so he could see the blurry outline of Regulus’ pale face and dark hair. An instant later, his glasses were being gently slid onto the bride of his nose, and Regulus came into focus.
“I didn’t feel any way about it,” he said, turning back to his work. “It was just what he called me.”
James nodded, his cheek rubbing against the smooth fabric of Regulus’ trousers. They settled back into silence, with only the clinking of Regulus’ braces and the crackle of the fire.
“Do you?” Regulus tapped his fingers on James’ head lightly. “Have any nicknames, I mean.”
“The lads call me ‘Prongs,’ and the team calls me ‘Cap.’” James ran his fingers up the seam on Regulus’ calf, feeling the thin bars of silver under the fabric. “When I was a really little kid my mum called me ‘Jamie’ sometimes, but no one’s called me that in forever.”
“Did you like that?” Regulus parroted, looking down at James briefly with a small smile. James smiled back.
“Yeah, I did.” He shrugged the shoulder not pressed against Regulus’. “I like nicknames and pet names. Makes you feel special, y’know? Like you’re something… more, I guess. I don’t know.”
Regulus was quiet, silver eyes thoughtful, and James happily settled into it. He would never tire of simply watching Regulus, tracing his features and just being with him. James wanted him, wanted him more than he felt like he had ever wanted anything. There was a place in his chest carved out for Regulus Black, for his pretty hair and striking features and intelligent eyes, but also for his soft dedication and his gentle curiosity and his caring nature.
James knew he was falling, knew that the landing would hurt, and he didn’t care. Nothing mattered more than the warmth against his cheek and the fingers playing with his hair.
Some time later, Regulus finished and reattached the silver he had been working on to the rest of his braces. James stretched off the floor, uncaring of the tingling in his legs or the tired pull of his muscles. He met Regulus at the door, giving him a smile.
“Goodnight, Regulus,” he said, adoring and besotted and more. Regulus pursed his lips in one of his secret smiles, the one without teeth that squinted his eyes slightly.
“Goodnight, Jamie,” Regulus replied, in a tone that James’ desperate brain labeled as ‘fond.’ What he actually said didn’t compute in James’ mind until Regulus was already out the door, the soft swoosh of his hair in James’ ears and the faint scent of pine in his nose the only things left.
James’ grin widened impossibly, and he laughed disbelievingly to himself.
Jamie.
He was right. The nickname made him feel special, made him feel like more to Regulus, and made Regulus feel like more to himself in return, which James didn’t think would have been possible.
James was so lost in the feeling that he didn’t realize someone had been waiting for him in the common room until a strong grip was wrapped around his bicep.
“Where have you been?” Remus asked him, voice hard and eyes flinty. His scars looked worse in the flickering firelight, his cheeks almost gaunt. He sounded upset.
“On a walk.” James furrowed his eyebrows, gently removing Remus’ hand from his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Remus repeated, sounding baffled. “What’s wrong is that you’ve been a shitty friend recently, James. What’s wrong with you?”
Oh, James realized. He’s not upset. He’s angry.
“I don’t-”
“Shut up,” Remus snapped, turning and pacing away angrily before spinning back again with an accusatory finger pointed towards James. “Why’ve you been acting like this, huh? Sirius’ been struggling and you’ve just, what, fucked off? You’re supposed to be best friends, James, he’s needed you, but you’ve obviously been doing your own thing since we got here. You’re there, but you’re not. What’s wrong with you, huh?”
“I’ve just been… distracted,” James said, trailing off awkwardly.
“Well, get over it.” Remus crossed his arms, nails digging into his own arms. James could tell this was something he’d been sitting on for a while, and guilt gnawed at his insides. Of course he had known Sirius was upset, but James had thought Remus had it handled, and Sirius hadn’t really needed James’ help in a few months at least.
And, yeah, he’d been distracted. Regulus was new and beautiful and kind, and James had admittedly been swept away by him, by talking to him and being with him in a way he had never been with anyone.
At his silence, Remus sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face, softening slightly.
“Look, Prongs, I don’t know what’s got you all fucked up, but you need to fix it,” he stated, leaving no room for argument. “I can’t help Sirius in the way that you can, okay? I’ve tried, and I just can’t. He needs you, so get your act together and be there for him the way you were before.”
James nodded, feeling shamefaced. Remus was right. James had been selfish, and he had neglected his friends, neglected Sirius. Sirius. Sirius was the other half of his soul, and he had just left him to deal with his problems on his own. He was a terrible best friend.
“I’m sorry.” James clenched his jaw and, with great effort, pushed himself and Regulus into the back of his mind. “You’re right. I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning.”
“Good.” The tension dropped out of Remus’ shoulders. “The group isn’t the same without you.”
James smiled at him, hoping it came off as reassuring. Already he could feel the James Potter settle back on him, pressing the Jamie down.
“You could’ve just said ya missed me, Moony,” James teased, stepping forward and throwing an arm around his taller friend’s shoulders.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Remus replied, lighter and back to his usual clever deadpan. “I’ve been appreciating the quiet.”
“Quiet’s boring,” James told him confidently, leading them up to their dorm. “I’d much rather have something loud and fun.”
“I know, Prongs.” Remus patted him on the shoulder. “Night.”
“Night.” James waved as he stripped off his outer robe to reveal his pajamas underneath, crawling into bed. He stared at the canopy above him.
He was going to be better. Starting tomorrow, he was going to talk to Sirius and help him the way a real best friend would. He would tell Regulus they couldn’t meet every night anymore, maybe every other night? James could work out a schedule, and that way he could go back to being a good friend the way he had been before meeting Regulus.
It would work out. James was going to make sure it worked out. He would be better, better for Sirius, and for Remus, and for his other friends. He needed to put Regulus to the side, just for a little bit.
James fell asleep planning the days ahead, how he would start apologizing to everyone for his distraction and get back to normal. He fell asleep thinking of Sirius, and how he could help him.
But when he dreamed, he dreamed of Regulus, and of feeling special.