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residentrookie · 8 months

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(8/31) prompt: takeout — 1,213 words (implied nsfw) (regulus conveniently forgets to tell james about his birthday) @jegulus-microfic

Regulus wouldn’t say he has a favorite time of day per say, but if he were held at gunpoint and forced to pick he supposes he’d choose somewhere in the range of 5:30 and 6:00 pm. If you asked him why, he’d tell you it’s because he likes watching the sun go down and not because that’s when James Potter stops by his apartment after his daily trip to the gym.

And it’s definitely not because he always arrives dressed in his tight, slutty tank tops, skin still glistening with a light layer of sweat, salty and earthy and so distinctively James smelling.

(In truth, it makes Regulus feel fucking insane, but he tries to hide that bit.)

Today, when he rips open his door at 5:47 he’s met with that exact sight: James, smiling but slightly out of breath, a duffle bag slung over one toned shoulder that’s of course sinfully on display. Seriously, his fucking arms…

“Hi.”

Regulus smiles back helplessly, the smallest uptick of one side of his mouth. He opens the door wider, tilting his head to invite James inside. They’ve been seeing each other for about a month now (and these evening visits have only been a thing for the past week), but James seems to have a routine already set in place. He toes his shoes off by the front door (Regulus never asked him to, but he must have noticed that Regulus always removes his own and followed suit). The duffle bag comes off his shoulder about five steps inside, set neatly against the wall and out of the way, before he turns to Regulus and gives him “the look.” It definitely belongs in the category of “begging” (Regulus is getting better at identifying that one) but as for what he’s begging for?

Regulus rolls his eyes but huffs a laugh. “Seriously? Again?”

If the sex wasn't so good, he'd be forced to believe that James' only reason for coming here was to raid his kitchen.

James’ face grows somehow more pitiful. “I forgot to pack a snack after the gym and I’m starving, Regulus, honestly, or I wouldn’t ask—”

He would, he’s shameless. Regulus doesn’t mind.

“Fine. But I’m not cooking you anything tonight. It’s Friday. I don’t cook on Fridays.”

“Okay, fair.”

Regulus waves a hand behind him as he saunters to the living room. “Anything in the fridge is up for grabs.”

“Fuck yes,” James says with the enthusiasm of a growing teenage boy (he’s 25). “You know, I would take this opportunity to shower you with compliments but uh,” he pauses, knowing Regulus’ curiosity will force him to glance back over his shoulder, “I’ll save that for later, yeah?”

James’ cheeky grin only grows as he watches Regulus’ face get hot. With that, he’s ducking his head down into the fridge and Regulus is left to wonder exactly how fast James clocked his praise kink. He supposes he’s not exactly subtle about it.

“Hey what’s in this brown box, Reg?” James asks a few moments later, his voice muffled as he rumages through the fridge. “Leftovers? Or takeout?”

Regulus blinks, remembering. “Oh, uh, neither— that one— actually, that’s—”

James reappears, his face a mask of confusion as he stairs down into the open takeout box. “Cake?”

Regulus’ face is burning again, but for a completely different reason. “Um. Yeah.”

“You don’t eat cake.”

It's true. Regulus told him that once on a date when James insisted on ordering dessert for them. He’d just forgotten to mention his only exception.

“Well. I do when it’s my birthday.”

The takeout container drops from James’ hands, forgotten. He stares at Regulus with utter horror, eyes wide and jaw hanging.

“Y-your— birthday— When? When the fuck did you have a birthday and not tell me about it?”

Regulus winces a bit at James’ tone, his brother’s earlier words coming back to him.

James is a birthday guy, okay? Any chance he gets to celebrate the people he loves is like… like a fucking holiday for him. So just let him have it.

Okay but I am not a “birthday guy," Sirius, Regulus had pointed out stubbornly. His brother of all people, the only other person with first person insight into their upbringing, should know this by now. Shouldn’t I have a say on who does and doesn’t know about my birthday? It’s not a big deal.

Sirius had sighed, one of those really put upon exhales that made Regulus roll his eyes at the drama of it all. Whatever, Reg. Tell your boyfriend or don’t, I don’t give a fuck. Just know if you don’t, you’ll regret it.

Not my boyfriend, Regulus had mumbled, resisting the temptation to add the word “yet.”

“You were out of town,” Regulus points out to James weakly.

He bats the excuse away. “So this past weekend, then. I was with your fucking brother, he couldn’t have mentioned it?”

“I asked him not to.”

“Of course you did. Oh my god, I wouldn’t have gone out of town if I knew, I would have planned something— a nice dinner, like steak or something, or no, you like that Italian place in town— and then we could have had a picnic on the beach because it was a full moon and I could have made chocolate covered strawberries because I know you like those, or actually I could have made you a fucking cake since you seem to eat them exclusively on your birthday.” He pauses his rant, looking increasingly agitated and distressed before turning to Regulus, incredulous. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have— I would have—”

“James,” Regulus says, stepping back into the kitchen, walking all the way up to him. “James. Hey.” It takes a second for the tension in James’ shoulder to drop completely, but when it does, Regulus continues. “My birthday isn’t— it’s not exactly my favorite day of the year. In fact, I try to treat it exactly like every other day, like there’s nothing special going on at all.”

“But that’s so sad,” James whispers.

Regulus shrugs. “Not to me. My parents made my birthdays hell. They were family events. It was about everyone in the world except for the person actually turning another year older and I had to wear fucking ties and I hated them and everyone there. And they never let me eat the cake. It was “for guests.”

James sighs. “Everyday, I think I can’t hate them more…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Regulus admits. “I should have. I know you enjoy… celebrating.” He bumps James’ shoulder lightly with his fist. When he goes to move his hand, James captures it, holding it to his chest.

“I want to celebrate you however you want to be celebrated, baby.” James’ voice is soft and warm. Regulus closes his eyes and leans into it.

“However I want, hm?” he murmurs, his forehead resting against James’ chin. “You mean that?”

He feels James pull away before looking up, brown eyes engulfing him in a sea of sinful intentions.

“You know I do.”

“Thought you were hungry,” Regulus says breathlessly, already pulling them away, backing up in the direction of his room.

“Believe me,” James tells him shamelessly, “I am.”

#they are just so!!!!!#i had so much fun writing this #regulus not liking cake but eating it on his birthday as a fuck you to his parents who never let him have it is a new level of pettiness #i fucking love him #also! james knowing all the things regulus loves!!#the man pays attention! he's attentive as fuck!#and yeah... yeah james is very hungry actually now that u mention it #special shout out to the slutty gym tank tops #hope u enjoyed!#jegulus #jegulus microfic

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