slutty running shorts James v. bewildered and peeved Regulus at the bar | jegulus | 900ish words
inspired by @pressedink and their insanely lovely comment on read the room & author's thanks to @ecstarry for making things less terrible for 15 minutes and @horrorosier for the original running shorts James
Reg is at the bar and he’s dying. He’s going to kill Barty with his bare hands and then he’s going to have words with Sirius.
Serious words with Sirius even. About his fucking roommate. Reg is stoked for Sirius truly, he is. He’s so glad they’re talking again. It makes him emotional enough that he doesn’t talk about it. He can’t without getting all smiley and weird. He feels four again. Which he guesses is the point.
Regardless, he’s going to have to have words with his sibling because what the fuck even. Regulus didn’t even want to go out tonight. He wanted to stay in. He had big plans with his bed. But Barty saw Sirius’s text about going out when he was fucking snooping through Regulus’s phone. And Barty is nothing if not a conniving and convincing asshole who needled and prodded and begged until Reg acquiesced. And now they’re here. At the bar.
And James showed up. James showed up straight from run club. In shorts. In fucking tiny ass pink running shorts.
Reg is gonna kill himself. He’s already kicking himself for not ordering a stronger drink, he’s strangling his shitty pint in his hand as is and doesn’t know where to look. There’s nowhere good to look because Barty is grinning a manic fucking grin like the cat the got the cream on his right and Sirius is wrapped around Remus like a boa constrictor savoring its last meal to his left.
And James is in front of him, looking like that. Legs out and a slutty ass t shirt cut to hit right at his waistband so every time he moves Reg can see his fucking belly.
Regulus downs his beer in one. He know how to open his throat, sue him. James snorts watching him.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Well yeah that’s why I asked.”
“Fuck off James.” Reg needs liquor. He’s two seconds away from stealing Sirius’s gin and tonic out of his hand, the one that’s not in Remus’s hair.
“What the fuck, you’re the one who invited me.” James is whining. He’s fucking whining.
“Are you joking, why the fuck would I do that?”
“I don’t know but I have the texts.” There’s unkempt glee behind those words.
Regulus knows he doesn’t have texts because he only has ever texted James once. And it was to ask where to buy tea.
“You do not have the texts because there’s no shot in hell I would ever voluntarily invite you anywhere.”
“Awww don’t be like that you asked real sweet earlier”
James is looking up at him under his lashes. Regulus can feel his cheeks heat.
“I did not!” He can hear his voice getting pitchy.
Barty chokes on his drink and then he’s laughing so hard beer comes out his nose. Regulus whips around.
“What the fuck did you do?” James is laughing at him now too.
Barty slings an arm around Regulus’s neck. “Awww baby didn’t you hear Jamey, you were being so sweet earlier.”
James looks like he won the lottery, mirth dancing at the corners of his mouth, eyes bright. He digs his phone out of god knows where because Regulus can see his shorts. Well really he can see thigh. It’s all thigh. Tan, and muscled and there’s hair and thank god James cuts him out of his reverie.
“Do you wanna see? I should of known you’d never be that nice.”
Then he’s shoving his phone in Regulus’s face.
“You know you’re never sweet but it was worth the look on your face to hear me say it.”
“What you don’t like my shorts?” James turns, does a little spin. Sticks his leg out, puts his foot right between Regulus’s. He taps his chunky running shoe against Reg’s boot gentle as all hell.
Regulus is going to kill him too. Adds him to list straight after himself and Barty.
James steps right up into Regulus’s space where he’s leaning back and wheedles his way forward pressing past Barty until they’re shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.
Regulus can feel the heat coming off of him, warm and heady from the run and all the skin. There’s so much fucking skin. Reg can feel his neck turning hot and splotchy, he’s sure James can the red rushing down his throat.
James shoots him a little smirk and fucking bends over, leans up on his tiptoes, elbows on the bar, ass out. Regulus is sure if he looked he’d be able to see the crease of James thigh where his motherfucking shorts are riding up. He’s not looking. Well, he’s not not looking.
Then he hears it. The sound of an iPhone camera. He whips his head up and Barty’s there. Standing there phone in front of him, shutter still clicking as he takes more pictures.
Regulus is actually going to commit murder and he’s going to get them all banned from the pub and then Sirius will be mad at him again and just oh holy fuck.
Barty is grinning like a goddamn loon. “I don’t know mate, it looks like you might like the shorts.”
And if Regulus steals Barty’s phone and sends himself all 37 pictures and then deletes the evidence it’s no one’s business but his own.
