Chapter Text
James Potter has a boyfriend, and it was both the best and most ridiculous thing to happen to him.
Because Regulus Black, said boyfriend, sitting on James’ kitchen counter top with the coldest glare planted on his face, was the meanest person alive.
James thinks he has a kink for mean people.
“Dinner will be ready in approximately… 20 minutes.” James declared, putting a lid on the pasta and twisting to grin at Regulus.
“You call this dinner?” Regulus sighed, pulling James closer to him to button his collar with great efficiency, which at some point had started to gape open. “You’re going to burn this kitchen down, and I’ll leave you here to cook. Not dinner, might I clarify, but yourself.”
See? Kinky.
James beamed at him with half a mind to ask to keep the barbs coming. “I knew you’d support me.”
Regulus let out a long, truly tired sigh that rivalled one of a Victorian widow burdened with grief. “The only thing I’m supporting is your delusion. Honestly, how can you be Mexican and not know how to cook?”
“Careful, love,” James said, stepping closer so that he was standing between Regulus’ knees, hands coming to rest on either side of him. “One more insult and I might have to kiss you.”
Regulus sucked in a small breath, his eyes flickering down to James’ lips before back up. “Idiot.”
James grinned. He would have kissed him anyway.
He closed the gap between them, slotting their lips together and it felt like coming home. Regulus’ head tilted back into it, his knees sliding apart to allow James to step in closer, moving his hands to Regulus’ hips to pull him to James.
James traced his tongue over Regulus’ bottom lip, asking, needing to taste him. And when Regulus parted his lips, just enough to allow James entry, his vision almost whited out.
Regulus tasted… divine. All sweet and salty and sour and spicy, he tasted like everything and nothing all at once. There was no flavour, no ingredient to him. It was something that could never be replicated, a recipe didn’t exist, but James was so very happy to get it straight from the source. To be the only one.
Regulus breathed in sharply through his nose, a soft noise vibrating low in his throat, and James wanted to feel it against his lips. He moved his mouth down Regulus’ jaw, detaching from his lips and peppering quick kisses and sucking slow ones down his neck, chasing that sound.
He reached the junction between Regulus’ neck and shoulder, and when he sucked somewhere just a little above it, Regulus let out a soft little sound that could only be categorised as a moan. It made James ravenous.
Heat pooled low in his stomach, and he moved his hands to one of Regulus’ thighs, wrapping around it to hitch it up around James’ hip, forcing Regulus as close as possible to him. Regulus didn’t protest the movement, if anything, he shifted closer, moving his own hands to bury in James’ hair, pulling him in, keeping him there.
The fact that James couldn’t breathe escaped him, buried in the crook of his neck and sucking into it, and he would die a very, very happy man indeed if he suffocated in Regulus Black.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
James pulled back from Regulus entirely too soon than he would have liked, their lips pulling apart with a string of saliva connecting them.
“Oh fucking shit balls,” James cursed, looking at the stove in horror. The pasta. His pasta.
It has now been reduced to a smoking mess of charred ash, smoke curling from the pot as-well as the distinct smell of burnt spaghetti.
He could hear Regulus groan somewhere behind him as James flailed with a tea towel to try and waft away the smoke.
“Merde!” He snapped, the sound of it making James jump, but not as much as the shove that followed, strong enough to push James aside like he weighed nothing, surprising to come from someone half his size. “Bouge! Tu es tellement, Potter!”
James froze, watching as Regulus leapt into action, grabbing another towel and waving it under the smoke detector. He was muttering rapidly in French, and James didn’t understand a word, but God if wasn’t just the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. He forgot about the pasta, forgot the day, forgot everything.
“Tu n’as même pas pensé à éteindre la cuisinière? Incroyable!”
Jesus Christ.
James’ breath stuttered. He didn’t understand a damn thing Regulus was saying, but good Lord, it didn’t matter. He sounded divine. James had guessed Regulus spoke French - seeing that he was French, and that Sirius occasionally slipped into it when he was feeling very passionately - but this? Actually hearing it? The sharp, delicate consonants, the smooth, rolling vowels that made Regulus’ voice dip like a melody? James wanted to play it on repeat for the rest of his life.
But since they were apparently slipping into their mother tongues …
“Regulus…” James said, his voice a bit wobbly as the fire alarm finally gave up. “¿Sabes que te ves muy sexy cuando estás enojado?”
Regulus whirled around, eyes widening, his face a portrait of rage and confusion as he tossed the towel onto the counter. “Quoi?”
“¿No lo entiendes?” James teased, letting his grin turn wolfish. “Estoy diciendo que me encantaría verte enojado más a menudo… en mi cama.” He let his voice drop into the rich, fluid cadence his mother tongue always gave him.
Regulus’ brows drew together in confusion, lips parting slightly. “Qu’est ce que tu racontes, Potter? Tu crois que c’est une blague?” He gestured at the stove, where a small trickle of smoke still rose from the pot. “Je devrais te tuer pour ça! Si tu n’étais pas si sexy, je te giflerais sans hésiter!”
James didn’t need to understand the words to grasp the tone - and what a tone it was. The exasperation. The fury. The elegance. It made something twist and pull low in his stomach. Like a magnet being summoned. Summoned right to Regulus.
“Dios mío, no sé qué estás diciendo, pero sigue hablando. Sueñas… increíble.” He said half-breathless, stopping in front of Regulus, reaching out to trail his fingers lightly along the sharp line of his jaw, but Regulus slapped his hand away.
“Arrête ça, idiot!” Regulus snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tu es insupportable!”
“Y tu eres irresistible,” James fired back, hear curling through every syllable. His voice dipped lower, borderline a growl. “Eres el hombre más hermoso que he visto mi vida… especialmente cuando estás gritándome.”
Regulus’ lips parted slightly, his cheeks darkening. “Tu dis n’importe quoi,” he muttered, but his voice wavered.
James smirked, stepping even closer, a thrill sparking through him. “No entiendo, pero sigue hablando,” he murmured, leaning in, sliding his hands around Regulus’ slim waist. “Dime todo lo que quieras en francés. Insúltame. Maldíceme. Pero te advierto…” He leaned down, his lips ghosting Regulus’ ear, his breath hot. “Si continúas así, te inclinaré sobre este mostrador y te follaré hasta que solo puedas decir mi nombre.”
Regulus’ breath hitched audibly, his lashes fluttering and his jaw tightening as he tried, and failed, to glare. “Tu es insupportable,” he whispered, but it came out weaker this time. “Et… incroyablement agaçant.”
James laughed softly, the sound deep in his chest. “no me importa lo que estés diciendo.” His fingers slipped just under the hem of Regulus’ shirt, his thumb rubbing small circles over Regulus’ hip bone. “todo lo que importa es que me tienes completamente obsesionado.”
Regulus’ jaw tightened as he tilted his head further back. “si seulement tu pouvais lire dans mes pensées...”
James shuddered, not from the meaning - he had no clue - but from the sound of it on Regulus’ lips. The way it rolled off his tongue like a spell. The way he said it, a predator circling its prey.
“Dilo otra vez,” he said, crouching down so that his lips ghosted Regulus’ jaw. “Por favor. Sueñas tan… malditamente bien.”
Regulus’ nostrils flashed and he stepped back, shoving at James’ chest, hard. “Laisse-moi cuisiner!”
James staggered back, chuckling. “¿Vas a cocinar para mí?” He said, recognising the French word for cook. He had heard Moony and Pads argue about dinner one too many times, Sirius slipping into French and Remus slipping into Welsh.
“Oui!” Regulus snapped, pulling ingredients down from the cupboards aggressively. “Parce que tu es complètement inutile ici!”
James just leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he watched. He was sure his face was one of complete adoration, but he couldn’t care less. Not when Regulus made something as simple as cooking look so sexy. “No entiendo nada de lo que dices,” he mused, “pero sigue gritándome, mi amor. Me estás volviendo loco.”
Regulus didn’t grace him with a look, only chopping garlic furiously, muttering something under his breath in French. He could have called James the worst thing possible, and James would ask him to say it over and over.
James just grinned wider. “Dios mío… más, por favor.”
“Tais-toi, Potter!” Regulus barked, but there was a faint smile on his lips, a dark blush spreading to the tops of his ears.
James chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender as he moved backwards, leaning up against the counter.
A few minutes later, and James hadn’t stopped staring. He had tried (not really) but his gaze kept drifting back to Regulus, who was currently hunched over the stove with a precision that James quite frankly found baffling. His boyfriend moved with sharp, measured grace, like a dancer moving to the beat of the most perfect song. It was mesmerising, and James, ever the moth to the flame, couldn’t look away.
The room smelled incredible now, a stark contrast from the burnt pasta and smoke smell that had filled the air earlier. Now, it smells of garlic sizzling in olive oil and spices James didn’t even know he owned. Yet James hardly noticed it all.
What he noticed was Regulus.
Regulus, with his jaw set, sharp cheekbones catching the light. Regulus, with one hand drumming a beat into the counter, the other stirring the pan. It was a sight that made James want to drop to the floor on his knees.
He felt a pang in his chest, something warm and full that had no name, not yet.
James leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms as he met his eyes waver over Regulus’ face. He really was the most beautiful thing James had ever seen. He should have statues made in honour of him, paintings of nothing but him, movies and shows of only him existing. He should be painted in the stars for all to see, but at the same time kept in a locked box so that no human could lay their eyes on something so divine. No one and nothing deserved to see such beauty, not even James.
James thinks he’d be happy to die right here, just looking at Regulus. He was grateful for every second he had to just look.
He tried to pinpoint what it was about him that left James so utterly captivated. Was it the way his whole face lit up when someone asked him about books or art or classical music or any of the things that interest him? Was it his unfailing ability to single insult and compliment James at the same time?
Or was it the fact that Regulus was here, in James’ kitchen, cooking dinner for him?
James felt something twist in his chest at the thought, and he couldn’t help but be so fucking proud of Regulus. He knew how much effort it took for him to let people in, let him in. Of course, James wasn’t fully in yet. No, that would take much longer, but James was more than willing to wait and to try.
Regulus didn’t love like James did. He didn’t shout it from the rooftops or paint it in the sky, didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. Regulus loved like someone was going to jump out and steal it from him. Destroy it.
“Are you going to keep staring at me, or are you going to make yourself useful and set the table?”
Oh, so they were back to English now. Sad.
James grinned, snapping out of his own head. “Oh, staring definitely. Have you seen yourself? It’s like watching a Michelin-star chef in action.”
Regulus shot him a sharp look over his shoulder, but the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. “You’re not as charming as you think, James.”
“Funny, because right now I’m looking at the evidence that says otherwise,” James fired back, pushing off the counter and grabbing two plates from the top cupboard.
Regulus turned back to the stove with a shame of his head, mumbling something under his breath that James didn’t even try to understand.
By the time James had set the table in the main room and poured the wine - a very expensive and a very French wine - the pasta was as done. Regulus played it like it was some delicate artwork, drizzling a thin line of olive mum over the top before setting the heavy dish in front of James.
“Dinner is served,” he said, sitting across from him in the chair James had pulled out, one eyebrow raised.
James stared at the plate, his jaw dropping to the floor. This was not pasta. This was artwork. It deserved to be hung in the Louvre behind hundreds of layers of bullet proof glass, hundreds of people wiring up to get a look.
“I-“ James started, plopping himself down with absolutely no grace. “You cooked this in twenty minutes?”
Regulus looked down at his plate, a smug smile teasing his lips. “Some of us are competent in the kitchen.”
James took a bite after a few more seconds of admiration, grabbing his phone to take a photo despite Regulus’ protests. One the fork hit his tongue, he let out a moan that was down right filthy.
Regulus coughed from in front of him, his cheeks darkening as he glared at James, who was sinking into his chair in pure bliss.
“God, Reg,” James said breathlessly, voice thick. “This is obscene. What did you put in this?”
Regulus gave him a flat look, but something close to pride glinted in his eyes. “It’s pasta, James. Not a miracle.”
James just closed his eyes, closing his eyes in pure bliss. “No, no. This is better than pasta. This is… there’s no words. It’s criminal, is what it is. You could get arrested for feeding me this.” He speared another forkful, raising his eyebrows. “Are you trying to kill me, Reg. Is that why you came here? To kill me?”
“Eat quietly, would you?” Regulus muttered, looking down at his plate. His face remained stoic, but the tips of his ears turned pink. “You sound like you’re auditioning for some sort of porno.”
James chuckled, deep and warm, his grin widening. “A porno, huh? Is that what you’re thinking about over, sitting there a quiet? Me in a porno?” His voice dipped, teasing, testing the waters.
Regulus’ fork paused mid-air, his eyes narrowing into a sharp glare. “You’re so fucking gross.”
“And yet,” James said, leaning back in his chair, “here you are. Cooking me dinner. Watching me eat.” He pointed lazily at him with his fork. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked being here.”
Regulus huffed, stabbing the pasta on his plate like it had personally wronged him. “If you didn’t know better, you’d think a lot of stupid things.”
“True,” James agreed easily. “But I do know better. I know you like being here, and I know you like watching me eat.” He took another bite, chewing slowly, his eyes locked on Regulus’.
Regulus set his fork down, his nostrils flaring, but his sharp intake of breath betrayed him. “I do not like watching you eat.”
“No?” James said, his tone light but his eyes assessing. Watching. “You’ve been staring at me for the last five minutes.”
Regulus’ face flushed, and he was suddenly very interested in the wall over James’ shoulder. “Obviously your eyesight is worse than we thought, because you’re seeing things.”
“Oh am I?” James laughed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. He had to tilt his head down to keep eye contact with Regulus, but despite it, Regulus seemed to be the biggest thing in the room, taking all of his attention and commanding the space around him. “Just admit that you like that I enjoy your cooking. Bet it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn’t it?”
“Absolutely not,” Regulus shot back. “And still leaving on the table like that. You’ll break it.”
James chuckled, but he leant back anyway. “You’re impossibly brilliant, you know that?”
“Funny,” Regulus said, scraping his teeth along the fork as he cleaned it off. “I was just about to call you impossible.”
James’ grin widened so much he probably gained a few more smile lines. “You say that a lot. Starting to think it’s code for something else.”
Regulus dropped the fork, resting his chin in his hand in a way that was oddly intimidating. “Code for what, exactly?”
James shrugged, drawing the moment out with a long sip of wine. “Hmm, something like, ‘James, you’re devastatingly handsome and it’s distracting me from my meal.” He set the glass down, tracing his finger over the rim. “Or rather, ‘James, I secretly enjoy your company and want to spend every waking moment with you, but I would rather die than admit it.’”
“You are, without a doubt, the most arrogant man I know.” Regulus muttered under his breath, but there was no bite to it. He looked away, his jaw tight, his fingers gripping the fork tightly.
James tilted his head, studying and memorising every little movement. If he looked closely, he could see the hairline fractures in Regulus’ armour, the little tells that showed the softer person underneath. His fingers drummed on the table, whether it was with nerves, restlessness or something else, James hadn’t learnt yet. The way his gaze kept darting back to James even when he tried to look disinterested in everything or very interested in one thing that wasn’t James.
“Relax,” James said softly, when he noticed Regulus start to tense up. “I’m just messing with you.”
“I know,” Regulus replied, his voice quieter now, but his fingers slowed their tapping, his body relaxing ever so slightly. “You always are.”
James smile softened, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of Regulus. They had been together two days. Two days, and he was already having the time of his life, and that excited him. So fucking much.
“You okay?” James asked softly. There was nothing wrong, he was sure, but it just came naturally to him to ask. To ask everyone and anyone how they are. He nudged Regulus under the table with his foot, making him snap his head up to look at him.
Regulus swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. For a moment, the playful tension between them turned to something… more. Something James was pretty sure he knew the name of, but his mind pushed it back. Far too soon.
“I’m fine,” Regulus said, kicking James lightly under the table. “Stop fussing.”
James chuckled, but it was answer enough. He didn’t need to push. Instead, he means back, giving Regulus more space. “I hate to tell you, but fussing is my speciality. Can’t get out of it, I’m afraid. But for someone who always seems to find me annoying, you sure do spend a lot of time looking after me.”
“That’s because you’re incapable of looking after yourself,” Regulus retorted, eating another mouthful of pasta. “If I didn’t cook for you, you’d probably starve.”
James let the fork range between his fingers as he watched Regulus. His chest felt tight, a warmth spreading through him that he couldn’t quite place. Of course, the pasta was incredible, but it was Regulus, sitting there across from him, bickering like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Maybe,” James said with a lopsided grin. “But you gotta admit, I make starving look pretty good.”
Regulus flicked his eyes back to James, a single brow arched in disbelief, but James swore he could see a glimmer of amusement in those silver eyes. “You’d make a corpse look good, James.” He said flatly, but his lips twitched at the corners, a small smile spreading across his face.
James gasped, bringing a hand over his chest like he’d been struck. “You wound me. Was that a compliment hidden in an insult? Are you feeling okay?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Regulus replied, stabbing one of the last pieces of pasta with far too much force. “I’m just stating facts. You’re arrogant, not immune to being attractive.”
James froze mid-chew, his fork hovering just shy of his mouth as he stared at Regulus. “Did you just… admit I’m attractive?”
Regulus rolled his eyes, but his cheeks tinged pink, a running theme tonight. “I said you’d make a corpse look good. Hardly groundbreaking.”
“Oh no, no, no,” James said, his grin growing impossibly wide. He leaned forward, resting his chin in both hands, elbows propped up on the table. “You just called me attractive, and I think we both now that’s a big deal.”
“You’re on thin ice, Potter.” Regulus warned.
“Black, I’ve been on thin ice since the day I met you. It’s my natural habitat.” James tilted his head, smirking.
Regulus groaned, setting his glass down with a thunk. “I’m genuinely considering throwing you out of your own house.”
“But you won’t,” James shot back, pointing his glass at him. “Because you like me. Admit it.”
Regulus’ lips pressed into a thin mint, his eyes narrowing as he regarded James with all the menace of a cornered cat. “You’re exhausting.”
James grinned, letting his gaze soften. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Regulus didn’t respond, but the air between them simmered. James watched the man across from him, the vision of control and elegance, but James had always had a talent to see these things in people. The way his long fingers tightened minutely around his wineglass, the way his gaze lingered just a little too long in James’ mouth as he spoke.
“Ok,” James said, breaking the silence and hoping he radiated that easy confidence. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room.”
Regulus quirked an eyebrow, eyes sharp. “You have an elephant? How very pedestrian of you, James.”
James grinned. “You know what I meant, love.”
Regulus took a deliberate sip of his wine, expression inscrutable. “Enlighten me.”
James watched him for a moment, taking the invitation. “I know you’re not the tour to dive headfirst into anything. You liked control. Structure. Rules.” He leaned forward, dropping his voice slightly. “I can work with that. But I’m not about to dance around this forever, Reg. I want you. In every way you want to give.”
Regulus blinked, his composure wavering for just a moment before he schooled his features. “And you think saying it like that will get you what you want.”
James chuckled, low and warm. “I think honesty is a good start.” He leaned closer, putting his arms down on the table. “And I think you want this too, even if you won’t admit it.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes even further to the point of squinting. “You’re disgustingly confident, you know that?”
“Part of my charm,” James said with a wink, standing up and walking around to Regulus’ side, holding out a hand. “Come upstairs with me.”
Regulus eyed the offered hand suspiciously, coughing once. “Upstairs?”
“Only to my study, don’t worry,” James clarified, but the double meaning wasn’t lost on him, his eyes glinting. “I want to show you something.”
Regulus hesitated for only a moment before standing, brushing past James without taking his hand. “Lead the way, then.” He said, his tone cool.
James didn’t miss the way Regulus’ fingers flexed as he walked, or the tension forcing his shoulders up by ears. He guided Regulus up the stairs with a hand on his back, and he couldn’t help but smile.
The last time they had done this, they had been drunk, Regulus passed out in his arms. And now? Now he was his boyfriend, and he had just had dinner with him. Wow.
The room was a reflection of James himself - warm, chaotic and packed full. Shelves crammed every corner of the room, reaching the ceiling. Books, maps, trinkets and everything James had collected had a space on the shelf and spilled off onto the floor, the only blank wall had a fireplace that was lit, a soft fire casting the room in soft orange glows.
This room had one of James’ favourite views, a window and a window seat built into the back wall, a bookshelf surrounding it. It was big enough for James to fit comfortably inside, and blankets and pillows lined it.
It showed off the scenic street James lived, almost like something out of a movie, and sometimes James would sit in the window seat, watching as people with such different lives walked past. It brought him peace.
A dark wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, a computer and a lap top sitting on it, piles and piles of papers and books spilling off the edges of it. Even though they mostly did all their work at the club, James was in charge of buying the equipment and handling the privacy aspects at the club, and sometimes it was easier to do that at home.
Regulus stepped inside, his face sweeping over the space. “Messy,” he remarked, but a slow smile spread over his face.
James shrugged, losing the door behind them, the soft clock blending in with the crackle of fire. “I prefer ‘lived-in’.”
Regulus turned to face him, crossing his arms. “What’s this about?”
James didn’t answer immediately, he would rather just show Regulus. He walked to his desk, opened a draw, pulling out a leather-bound folder. He held it out to Regulus.
Regulus raised an eyebrow but took the notebook anyway, his fingers brushing James’ in the process. He opened it, scanning the first page and blushing.
“Limits, Kinks, Preferences,” Regulus read out, scanning the lists beneath it. “Care to explain?”
James crossed his arms, leaning against the deck. “It’s a starting point. I want you in every single way, and you agreed to this,” he nodded at the list, “before we even started dating, so we kind of got the whole thing the wrong way around, but I thought that it was something to help us figure out what you want. What you’re curious about. What you don’t want.”
Regulus’ gaze flicked back to the page, his jaw tightening. “And you thought handing me a big list would be the best way to broach this topic?”
James just tilted his head, studying him. The fire light bounced off of his features, highlighting the sharp features of his face. He really was stunning. “You like things laid out clearly and in a way that you can control. I thought this might help.”
“And if I said this is presumptuous?”
“I’d say it’s thorough,” James countered smoothly. He pushed off the desk, walking slowly towards Regulus. “But he’s not a demand, Regulus. It’s a conversation starter. Nothing happens and nothing ever will unless you want it to.”
Regulus closed the folder carefully, his fingers reached down the leather cover. “You’ve done this before,” he said, his voice quiet. It wasn’t a question.
“I have,” James agreed. “But this is about you. Not anyone else. Just me and you.”
Regulus seemed to lean away from James, glaring up at him. “And you’re sure that his is what you want? Me?”
James smiled, his gaze warm and unflinching as he tucked a curl behind Regulus’ ear. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
The words hung between them, heavy. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, the tension seemed to leave Regulus in one, and he let himself fall forward, his forehead thumping against the middle of James’ chest.
“I don’t know if I can give you everything that you want,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
James wrapped his arms around Regulus’ shoulders, pulling him in close. He felt Regulus hesitate for a moment before lifting his own arms, slipping them around his waist and holding him loosely. Not as tight as James, but he held him anyway. “You could give me absolutely nothing and I would thank you for it every day. There’s no expectations, no pressure. Just us.”
James couldn’t see his face, but he could feel Regulus let out a soft sigh. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not,” James admitted, moving a hand up to run his fingers through Regulus’ hair. “But nothing worth having ever is.”
Regulus pulled his head back, meeting James’ eyes. “I’m not good at this. At… trusting people.”
James’ smile softened. “Then trust that I’ll take care of you. To go at your pace. To stop when you need me to.” He leaned down, resting his forehead against Regulus’. “Can you do that?”
For a moment, Regulus didn’t ever. They just breathed, let the air communicate for them. But then he nodded, voice barely audible. “Yes.”
James grinned, pulling back to look into those silver eyes. “Good. Then let’s start small.”
He leaned down, capturing Regulus’ lips in a kiss that felt both tender and possessive, his hand sliding to the back of Regulus’ neck. Regulus responded slowly at first, but he melted in, wrapping his arms tighter.
When they needed to breathe, they didn’t go very far, resting their foreheads against each other again. “One step at a time,” he promised. “And if you ever want to stop-“
“I’ll tell you,” Regulus finished, his voice steadier.
James grinned, chuckling softly. “I’m proud, love.”
Regulus huffed a laugh, his cheeks flushed. “So, do you want me to do this now or-“
“No, no. It’s late and this will take a while. I’ll drive you home and we’ll do it.., tomorrow? At yours. I want you to be as comfortable as you can be.” James said, taking the folder from him.
Regulus rolled his eyes, but handed it over any way. “Fine. Be there by 2, and if you’re not, I’m not opening the door.”
James laughed. “Yes, 2, I’ve got it.” He smiled softly, eyes never leaving Regulus’. “Come on, you need to help me clean up before we leave.”
Regulus groaned, but James didn’t miss the smile spread across his face. A proper smile.