Work Text:
Regulus stared out the window of the train, trying not to sigh repeatedly as the scenery flew by. Back in the UK, and feeling antsy because he swore he wouldn’t set foot there again until his mother was burned to ash. Which she was, and he knew realistically she couldn’t hurt him anymore, but it didn’t stop the memories, and it didn’t erase the guilt he felt for his part in everything.
He was young. He was naïve. He believed his parents when they insisted they were only doing what was best for their children.
Never mind how sick it made him feel every time he watched their lips curve round the wrong pronouns or Sirius’ dead name. Never mind it shredded him from the insides every time he saw that look on Sirius’ face. Or the way it felt to see Sirius stumbling from the front door, never to return.
This was Sirius. The brother who had crept into his room with books upon books of sign language because his parents refused to allow him to learn it. The brother who had let him touch his throat and learn the shapes of words because it was easier to learn from Sirius than the harsh therapists who would hit him every time he got something wrong. The brother who had treated Regulus like a whole human being instead of one with a defect.
Sirius, who had left Regulus everything he needed to find solace in the Deaf community, and sanctuary when Regulus realised his parents were completely full of shit.
He’d run away to Paris, to finish school and go to University. He decided to become an artist. To follow that dream and pour everything which had been carved out of him onto the canvas. And he was good. He did well. He was featured in so many galleries he’d lost count by now.
Sirius gave him endless shit about it. Artist trash, hipster, loser. It was all out of love because Sirius only wanted to see his brother happy.
Now that his mum had finally crawled back to the hell she’d come from, Regulus was free to walk the streets without worry. To be himself in a place which had never been particularly kind to him. One that used him and made him believe he was less and should mimic hearing people because they were more.
He was nearing the station, and he knew Sirius would be waiting for him. His brother had been overly excited about Regulus coming. Reg was there partly for the visit, partly because he was looking for a muse and had the intention of putting up an advert for a model. Sirius told him they could take care of it when he arrived, and Regulus knew his brother well enough to assume something was going on that was likely bad for both Regulus and whomever the unwitting model was, but honestly he wasn’t fussed.
He was just excited to be round someone who loved him.
Family.
***
Grabbing his rolling case, Regulus’ eyes scanned the crowd and it took him a minute to spot his brother. Sirius was smaller than him, thin and lithe with his long hair in a plait down his back. He was wearing artfully torn jeans, a too-tight white t-shirt under his leather jacket, and the one, single signet ring on his middle finger which he’d stolen off their father the night he escaped.
Regulus felt something bursting in his chest as he broke into a half-run. Sirius spotted him straight away, dropping his paper cup of coffee onto the ground. His arms were out and tugging Regulus in for a hug. There was a vibration against his neck with Sirius’ laughter, and Regulus could feel himself grinning back.
When he finally pulled away, Sirius reached up to cup Reg’s cheeks for a second, then shook his head. ‘You still know BSL or are you all French now?’
Regulus kicked his foot out, clipping his brother on the shin as he rolled his eyes. ‘Fuck off.’
Sirius grinned widely as he reached out, ruffling the top of Regulus’ hair which were untidy from the long journey. ‘You look great.’
Reg glanced down at his pristine jeans and shirtsleeves, then let out a small sigh which might have actually come out a groan based on the vibrations in his throat and the eyebrow quirk from his brother. ‘Go now?’
Sirius nodded, beckoning Reg along. He chatted the whole way, his fingers precise and it was obvious that he’d kept in practise even though they only really talked over skype once or twice a month. But he was babbling, his hands flying, and Reg did his best to pay attention as he walked and pulled his case along.
‘So how long are you staying? You never said,’ Sirius demanded as they found seats.
Regulus caught a few people staring—he was used to it but it never entirely stopped annoying him. ‘I don’t know. As long as it takes me to finish.’
Sirius eyed the case, then nudged it with his toe. ‘You don’t have art supplies in here. Too small.’
Reg huffed. ‘Not canvas. I’m going to build a canvas. You said you have studio space.’
‘I do,’ Sirius signed widely for emphasis. ‘I have whatever you need.’
Reg offered a tense, small grin. ‘And your mates? Happy to see me too?”
Sirius nudged him with his knee. ‘I talk about you all the time, so yes. And you can finally meet my boyfriend.’
Sirius had many disastrous relationships as a teen, and for a while Regulus had been fairly certain what he had going on would crash and burn. But they were in their twenties now and Sirius and Remus had been going strong. Who was he to begrudge that.
Maybe a little jealousy—loneliness does that to a person, but it wasn’t Sirius’ fault. In fact—and not that Regulus would ever admit it to his brother—but if anyone were to be happy, he wanted it to be Sirius.
The ride to Sirius’ wasn’t as long as expected, and soon enough they were troping up the stairs to the third floor. Sirius kicked the door open, making a loud announcement with both voice and hands. Remus—whom Reg recognised from the copious amounts of photos—poked his head round the corner of the kitchen and grinned widely.
He offered a shy wave of hello, and Reg merely nodded, not sure how much sign anyone besides Sirius knew and although the constant language barrier even in his home country bothered him, it was a bit less so with people like this.
‘Your room,’ Sirius said, pointing to the first door in the short hall. ‘Studio,’ he then signed, cocking his head to the door across from the first. ‘Mine and Moony.’ The last door on the right was shut tight, and really Regulus didn’t want to know what dirty business Sirius and his boyfriend got up to.
‘Thank you,’ Regulus signed, his fingers flicking lazily from his chin.
Sirius cocked his pinched finger and thumb up toward his mouth. ‘Tea?’
With a nod, grateful for English hospitality, Regulus helped himself to the cosy sofa whilst Sirius busied himself in the kitchen. He reckoned they were chatting about him, but he wasn’t bothered by it. He let his head slip back onto a cushion and his eyes drifted shut. He didn’t open them again until there was a tentative hand on his shoulder.
To his surprise, it was Remus instead of Sirius, and he was holding an over-large mug filled to the brim with black tea. ‘Milk? Sugar?’
Regulus shook his head, then signed, ‘Thank you,’ before taking it. He sipped, then let out a grateful sigh, hoping his expression showed how happy he was for something proper after travelling.
Remus looked a little hesitant, but took a seat next to Regulus all the same. ‘Good trip?’ His signs had just enough hesitation that Regulus could tell the other man wasn’t up to Deaf speed just yet.
‘Long,’ he replied after setting his mug down. ‘I needed to stop in Lyons before going back to Paris. I hate the CHUNNEL.’
Remus chuckled, his shoulders moving with it, and his face was bright with his grin. ‘Me too. So long. Terrified water is going to crash down on me and kill us all. Not how I want to die.’
Regulus snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes a bit, but couldn’t begin to describe the sensation of his chest unknotting with worry. He’d half thought he’d be stuck with biro and paper and funky miming the entire time he was here. And they might not have been native signers, but damn it was a relief.
‘Where’s Sirius?’
‘Helping JAMES,’ Remus said. ‘He’s got HARRY.’
Regulus quirked a brow, not entirely sure what any of that meant. It occurred to him he didn’t know much at all about Sirius’ mates beyond first and last names, and that they’d all been shits at school together which had driven his parents barmy before they chucked him out. For all that Sirius had lived with James and his parents, the running away and being taken in by another family had been a topic they skirted more often than not.
A moment later, though, most of Regulus’ questions were answered. The door opened and Sirius strolled in first with a small toddler hitched up high on his hip. The small child had very dark skin, black hair that was wild all over his head, a dummy twisted in each fist, and one in his mouth he looked like he was chewing on more than he was sucking on it.
Sirius looked absolutely thrilled, something Regulus thought he’d never see—Sirius pleased to be around a child—and just after him came the second man. The man which made Regulus breath hitch for an entirely different reason.
He was fit.
So fit.
Like the fittest Reg had ever seen.
He was incredibly tall, broad shoulders, his skin a little darker than the boy’s. His hair was the same though, wild and untamed like he’d spent hours making it look like he’d just rolled out of bed. His eyes were brown, but in the light they looked almost like molten gold, and his smile just lit up his whole face. It was almost infectious, the way he looked like he was thrilled just to be breathing the London air, and Regulus had to stamp down on his desire to return the grin.
Regulus Black did not just smile willy nilly.
He licked his lips instead, and offered a head-nod to the newcomers.
Remus was saying something then, and rose after that, opening his arms for the baby who went very willingly. Regulus wondered how often the pair spent round the child and it was odd to think of how absolutely domestic the whole thing was. God what was next? Sirius and Remus adopting? Willingly? Enjoying it?
He wasn’t sure if he was touched by the mental image, or disgusted by it.
He didn’t have long to wonder, because the newcomer—James, he assumed—all but flopped down next to Regulus like they had been friends for their entire lives and gave him another grin so bright Reg almost cracked.
Almost.
‘I’m so glad you’re finally here.’ James’ fingers twisted through the signs like he’d always been using them. ‘Sirius would not shut up about you, and frankly I was beginning to wonder if you were even real.’
Reg wet his lips, then gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Here I am.’ He then reached for his tea before he said or did anything stupid like ask James to take his shirt off so he could see if he was fit underneath as well. Or offer to paint him because yeah. He was going to be looking for a model and he was half sure no one would measure up to this goddamn god sat next to him.
Sirius was a bastard. Somehow this was all his fault.
Being able to blame his brother felt so much better than acknowledging the fact that he was Gobi Desert levels of thirsty and he’d known James for all of nine seconds.
Eventually Sirius and Remus came back into the room with a few beers and the sprog who was content to curl up on Sirius’ lap and just watch with wide eyes.
It was an hour later before Regulus realised no one had spoken a word aloud.
***
Four days later, they were shopping. Actually, it was Regulus and James, as Sirius was working and Remus had taken poorly. Regulus attempted to go on his own, but since he’d showed up, he hadn’t been offered any time by himself aside from sleeping, having a piss, or a shower—though Sirius had walked in on him for two of those things.
But he couldn’t say he hated the company as he wanted to build a canvas which meant going to several different shops to purchase the materials—most of which had to be delivered because he had no intention of getting on the tube or bus with ruddy great slabs of wood, and he doubted there was an Uber driver in the city willing to bang round the streets potentially knocking out windows of other cars.
Regulus knew this could happen by trial and error in Paris.
Which was how he lost two of his gallery assistants.
Currently he was stood in an aisle looking up at a massive shelf with the exact size of wood he was going to need for the frame. Unfortunately he was with a sales person who kept speaking whilst looking away from him, and James was nowhere to be found—having got distracted by something shiny, Regulus was fairly sure.
After a moment of feeling dejected, and so used to signing now he hadn’t bothered to take anything to write with him, he swallowed thickly and tapped the bloke on the shoulder. Then tapped into the horrific memories of his speech lessons to say, “I’m sorry, I’m Deaf and I can’t understand you when you keep turning away.”
If he’d been in a more amiable mood—which were rare—he might have enjoyed the funny purple colour the man’s face became. But really he just wanted to order the wood he needed and be done with this place.
As was typical, the man took a step back and looked like he was about to panic. “I uh…” was about all Regulus could read from his lips.
“I just need to order wood.” Regulus pointed up for emphasis, but the bloke’s eyes stayed firmly somewhere to Regulus’ right.
“I’m sorry, I can’t understand what you’re saying,” he finally blurted.
Regulus’ eyes widened because surely he wasn’t that rusty, was he? “I need,” he said, making his words slow and careful, “wood. I’m building a canvas and…”
“Sorry I…” The man’s head turned so Regulus missed the potential to read anything else off his lips, and he started to back away when James came round the corner.
Regulus couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to be grateful or more annoyed that he was pleased to see a hearing person who understood him because goddamn it was it really that difficult? Did they always have to make that, “Oh shit, I might catch something from you,” face at him every time?
James seemed to catch on, because he grabbed the bloke by his ugly blue shirt and spun him back ground as Regulus lifted his hands to sign, ‘I just want to order the fucking wood and this arsehole is insisting he can’t understand me which we know is bollocks. And he keeps looking at me like he’s going to catch my Deaf which even if he could, really isn’t all that fucking bad.’ Reg then realised James was interpreting everything Regulus was saying to the stupid sod. Word. For. Word.
He very nearly laughed this time because the man went from purple to the colour of Sirius’ shitty jeans.
“Just tell him…” the man began.
“No,” James said and signed simultaneously. “You speak to him, not to me.”
The bloke looked like he wanted to rush off or something. Anything. Regulus didn’t do much to make him feel more comfortable considering what a fucking cock-up the bloke was making of the whole thing. This could have gone so much easier.
And Reg would have left if he had somewhere else at a reasonable distance to buy the fucking supplies. But they were out of luck. So he placed his order, then filled out the slips for delivery, all the while watching James furiously insist that people speak to Regulus…
“Don’t speak like he’s not here. Don’t be a shit.” Regulus was impressed with James’ ability to speak and sign simultaneously which told him James had done it a lot before. His mouth also moved a bit funny and then he remembered James had grown up in Dublin which is where Sirius spent the majority of his hols from fifteen on.
Eventually they got it sorted, though, and the pair made their way out of the shop. Except James steered them to the pub instead of toward the tub, and yanked Reg inside to a table where he immediately ordered a couple of pints and basket of chips.
They sat close together, relaxed and calm, and Reg found himself smiling a little. Still thirsty for this man, but annoyed enough by the afternoon to not really be bothered by it.
‘…and growing up in Ireland also Indian wasn’t very easy. No one can pronounce my Indian name.’
Reg lifted an eyebrow. ‘Spell?’
‘Jaidev.’
Reg rolled his eyes and shook his head. ‘I’m shit at speech so I won’t try.’
James laughed, clapping Reg on the shoulder. ‘It’s alright. It’s tough being an Irish-Indian bastard like me.’
At that, for whatever reason, Reg actually laughed. He could feel it bubbling in his chest and rumbling in his throat, and the smile on James’ face made him cracking absolutely worth it.
***
Regulus was alone in the flat—blissfully ecstatic by that fact—when the delivery showed up. Which made things a pain in the arse because the delivery bloke was just as bad as the one from the shop. But this time he had paper and a biro and he was able to communicate where he needed everything.
Within twenty minutes, he was wearing one of Sirius’ shirts—a fucking crop-top because his brother was so gay it hurt—and low-slung jogging bottoms which gave him enough flexibility to build his canvas. He decided on asymmetrical, which wasn’t easy, but it was going to look brilliant when it was finished. At least when he finally found his model and had his vision.
He was just finishing up the frame, and getting ready to attach the stretched canvas when he felt something on the floor. Looking up, he saw James leant in the doorframe and whilst he wanted to be annoyed because he was looking forward to being alone, James looked good.
He was wearing jogging shorts and a tank top, and his muscles were just…god. So good. He found himself licking his lips and would have been embarrassed if James hadn’t been staring at his bare midriff. Crossing the room, James reached out a hand and brushed it up against the belly button piercing Reg always forgot he had. He’d done it at eighteen, along with the Leo constellation and Canis Major tattoos on either side.
‘Nice.’
Regulus rolled his eyes. ‘Thanks,’ and managed to make the sign look sarcastic. ‘Looking for Sirius?’
‘No. He’s with Remus, and won’t be back until late. Thought I’d see if you needed help.’
Regulus licked his lips, then sighed. ‘Is there a reason. I feel like there’s an ulterior motive. And has something to do with Sirius.’
Regulus had his a-ha moment when James looked guilty. ‘I…he wants you to paint me.’
Regulus blinked. ‘What?’
‘He wants me to be your model.’
Reg drew his bottom lip into his mouth to control his urge to sign, ‘Hell yes,’ as emphatically as he could, and instead asked, ‘Why?’
He was damn well hoping the reason was that James wanted to rip his clothes off, let Reg paint him, then shag him silly.
‘I lost a bet.’
If any words could be like a physical blow, it was those. Regulus swallowed, then shrugged. ‘I don’t take models by coercion. Especially since most of my pieces are nudes.’
James blinked at him, looking almost insulted. ‘No I…’ James was shaking his head and he took a step back. ‘I’d be…I’m sorry. This was a stupid idea.’
Before Reg could reply, James was gone.
Feeling rejected without having actually been rejected, Reg went back to work. If he hammered hard enough to actually hear the muffled sounds against the nails, well no one was round to notice.
***
Regulus didn’t see James for the rest of the week, and Sirius was a bit odd though no one said much. Feeling uncomfortable, Regulus was on the verge of cancelling the entire project and heading back to Paris. He had a book full of models more than willing to work for him, ones that wouldn’t elicit feelings like this, or make him feel like chewed and spat out gum.
Sirius came out into the lounge late one night, wearing a loose t-shirt which clearly belonged to Remus, and a pair of leggings. He fixed himself tea before curling up on the sofa next to Reg, his head cocked to the side as he stared at his brother.
‘Tell me.’
Reg sighed, and although he damn well knew what Sirius was on about, he pretended like he didn’t. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re moping. More than usual.’ Sirius’ slender fingers curved round the signs, his purple nails flashing in the dim, yellow desk lamp. ‘What happened.’
Reg sighed with his entire body, rubbing a hand down his face. ‘Nothing.’
‘You were always a shit liar.’
‘And you were always a shit.’
Sirius rolled his eyes, then abandoned his tea to the table before launching himself at Regulus. He nuzzled him and hugged him and generally flopped all over him to annoy him all the while mouthing, ‘Tell me, tell me,’ until Reg finally let out a growl and shoved Sirius back.
‘Fine.’
Sirius grinned with all of his teeth. ‘Well?’
‘I think I’m going home.’
Sirius flinched, and pinked in the cheeks, and Regulus felt a wave of guilt because he knew Sirius was missing him as much as he missed Sirius. Fuck. ‘Why? Did someone say something?’
Regulus shook his head. ‘No. Yes. No. I…’ He licked his lips and wanted to say that it was James, and it was all Sirius’ fucking fault because it was. But whatever stupid bet thing Sirius and James had got into, he also knew Sirius couldn’t possibly know Reg was interested in a bloke he’d only just met. ‘I don’t know if I should be here.’
‘You should,’ Sirius insisted, looking almost panicked. ‘Please don’t go yet. Stay.’
Regulus wanted to say no. He’d spent enough years being selfish and worrying about his happiness and no one else’s, but now looking at his brother’s face, he felt something unfamiliar and not entirely welcome. He wanted to make someone else happy.
‘Okay.’
Sirius blinked, then looked unsure. ‘Really?’
Regulus rolled his eyes, then gave Sirius’ shoulder a push. ‘Yes. Really. I’ll stay.’
***
Reg had just finished painting the background on the canvas, and was now scrubbing off in the kitchen when he felt vibrations under his feet. A second later tiny fingers were curling round his loose jeans, and he glanced down to see the grinning face of James’ son.
Reg hadn’t spent a lot of time with the kid, James only had him weekends and Sirius spent more time at James’ than here, and had always invited Regulus along, but he preferred to enjoy the space of the flat on his own.
Now though, he offered a tense smile down at the kid—not quite sure what to even do with a toddler. Then Harry’s tiny fingers lifted and he signed, ‘Want juice.’
Reg blinked. Then blinked again. He knew baby signing was a bit of a trend, but Harry was old enough to speak properly and most parents didn’t stick with it. And although James signed like a native signer, it was still a little surprising that the boy was adept.
‘Orange? Apple?’
‘Apple.’
Reg turned to see James walking into the kitchen. He wore a cautious smile as he signed a hello to Reg. Then he went to the fridge and poured Harry a small cup of juice. The boy took it happily, grinning at Regulus before rushing off into the lounge where Sirius kept toddler toys well stocked.
James’ hand went to his hair, giving it a messy ruffle and still smiling that absurdly sweet, sheepish smile that made Regulus wish he could leap across the floor and just grab him and kiss him. ‘You okay? Sirius said you wanted to leave. Was it…because I was so stupid?’
Regulus shook his head, but obviously his face gave him away because he saw the expression falling on James’. ‘I’m sorry I had a poor reaction to your bet with Sirius. I just…’ he stopped and dragged his fingers back through his own hair, letting out a sigh which probably made a loud noise by the way James grimaced. He decided in for a fucking penny, in for a fucking pound because he was already wearing his goddamn heart on his sleeve.
It was probably Sirius’ fault.
‘I don’t like to let people I’m attracted to model for me. It can get very personal and very intense. And because feelings aren’t reciprocated …”
James held up a hand, looking like he was just slapped across the face. He shook his head, then his mouth moved with words Regulus couldn’t begin to understand because of that fucking accent which Reg bet was probably really cute. It certainly looked cute. James seemed to realise what he was doing and quickly signed, ‘Sorry. I was surprised.’
‘I understand if you don’t want to hang round anymore. I told Sirius I should probably head back to Paris but…’ He couldn’t finish, though, because James had crossed the room and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He pushed his nose into Regulus’ cheek and the gesture was so bizarre and so bloody fitting of the Irish-Indian bastard, as he had so eloquently called himself.
James pulled back then, and cupped Regulus’ cheek, brown eyes meeting grey for the longest time. Then he pulled back for signing space and licked his lips. ‘Sirius and I had a stupid bet. Because he used to show me photos of you and I’d occasionally read your emails and I had a horrid crush. Then I insisted it was over, so he bet me that it wasn’t. The moment I walked into the flat and you were there, I was fucking gone.’
Regulus swallowed, and his mouth formed an ‘O’.
James shrugged. ‘So he said if he won—which he did—I would have to model for you. I told him you wouldn’t want someone like me modelling. I mean I’ve seen your art. You work with beautiful people and…’
‘You are so beautiful,’ Reg’s fingers blurted before he could stop himself. His hands were trembling a bit as he reached out and let his fingers trace round James’ features and fuck he was so gorgeous. ‘So beautiful.’ He licked his lips and closed his eyes and then let his tongue work with a name he’d been practising in secret and probably sounded so fucking wrong but he didn’t goddamn care. “Jaidev.” The word vibrated in his throat, and when he peered one eye open, James’ eyes were bright and a bit wet. ‘Sorry if that was shit.’
James’ hands were now shaking as hard as Regulus’ were. ‘I’m going to kiss you, so if you want me to stop, say so now…’
James gave him exactly nine seconds—which felt like nine years—before the distance between them was gone and they were pressed together, from torso to mouth. James’ hands were in his hair, and Reg could feel his moan in his mouth, right against his tongue, and it was only knowing there was a toddler in the other room which kept Reg from just letting himself go completely.
When they broke apart, James grabbed Reg’s hand and dragged him to the sofa where Harry was sat playing with giant lego. James pulled him to the cushion and they curled up against each other, and in lieu of talking, Reg merely leant his head against James’ chest and let himself feel the soft, easy thump of James’ heart against him.
***
Sirius and Remus got in a few hours later, and James did nothing more than roll his eyes and hand over a tenner to a smirking Sirius. Remus smacked him on the arm before taking Harry into his, putting the boy on his hip and did a swirling little dance move into the kitchen to sort out tea.
Harry ran in and out, signing instead of speaking, and eventually Reg had to ask. ‘How does he know so much?’
James blinked. ‘My whole family is Deaf. I was the first hearing born in…’ His fingers twitched in thought. ‘Six generations?’
‘You’re CODA?’ Reg blinked.
James laughed happily. ‘Yes.’
It made sense. Perfect sense. Emphasis on the perfect.
Fuck, Reg was so gone.
The tiny, quite, evil corner of his brain which was telling him to dive straight in and don’t look back, was wondering how quickly he could sort out a sale on his Paris flat.
***
Reg enjoyed the way his paint-splattered fingers looked against James’ dark skin. He drew his hand up and down James’ torso, occasionally pulling back to make a few swiping brush strokes across the canvas. Then he’d return, feeling a moan under his fingers, under his tongue as he worked on James’ throat.
He was a bit shag-stupid and he wondered if it was going to affect the state of the painting, but fuck if he cared. Especially when James was really good doing that thing with his tongue and just yeah. Damn.
Reg hadn’t thought about Paris in weeks. Or anything other than setting up his new London flat with studio space…and a bed big enough for two. And maybe—just maybe—a second room with a toddler bed shaped like Thomas the Train and several wall decals of Peppa Pig which made Harry squeal so loud Reg actually heard it.
James grinned up at him, glancing at the canvas, then pulled Reg down by his shoulders. His hands ghosted over Regulus’ warm skin, his thumbs pressing against his abdomen right over the constellation tattoos, then brushed along his naval piercing.
‘I love you,’ James mouthed.
Reg grinned, unable to help himself, hating a little what a sap he was becoming. But fuck if he wasn’t actually happy. He pulled James in for a slow, languid kiss.
‘I was thinking about a Paris holiday when you debut this,’ James said, nodding at the canvas. ‘Lily is taking Harry to see her parents in Cornwall for a month so…’
Reg groaned at the thought of having the freedom to shag anywhere and everywhere they wanted. Not that he minded the kid, because he didn’t. In fact, any Friday or Saturday night Reg could be found with a lapful of toddler, signing along to a book, or setting up a finger painting stretch of canvas. If Reg hung the toddler’s works of art all over the flat, well no one mentioned it.
Except Sirius. Because he was an arse.
But Reg always knew that one.
‘I can’t wait to see the Paris you know,’ James said, drawing Regulus’ attention back.
Reg paused to press an open-mouthed kiss to James’ thrumming pulse before pulling away. ‘I can’t wait to show you. To everyone. As mine.’
James laughed happily and drew his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. ‘I am absolutely yours, love.’
Regulus grinned, and knew he didn’t have to say it back. James knew. He was gone. Absolutely and completely gone.