Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
A/N: This isn't properly British.
Regulus knows that James Potter isn't supposed to be over for the summer. None of them are. Sirius isn't allowed to have any friends over, ever, but just this once, Regulus doesn't say anything.
He doesn't say anything when their parents owl to ask how they are, and he agrees to not say anything when Sirius growls, "Don't you dare," over breakfast.
James says, "He's not going to, Padfoot, it's fine," before scoffing down another spoonful of cereal.
Regulus tries vainly to stifle his blush, like he always does when James sticks up for him. James is Potter at school and just James here, because he calls Regulus by his first name, so it only seems fitting to repay in kind. The more Sirius is cruel to him, the more James tells him not to be, and it's a more than welcome change. Sirius hates Regulus almost as much as he hates their parents, for some odd reason Regulus can't understand. It's just because he's in Slytherin. But Blacks are always in Slytherin, except for Sirius, so Regulus doesn't really understand what he did wrong.
Sirius says it has to do with being a pureblood. But James is a pureblood, and Sirius doesn't have any problem with James, so Regulus still doesn't see what the problem is. He's been perfectly kind to Sirius' best friend ever since his unexpected arrival, and by 'perfectly kind,' Regulus means perfectly tongue-tied.
He's been called outside now, by a very sweaty, half-naked James, dressed only in loose jeans that fall too far down his hips. Regulus gulps and tries not to stare at the smattering of dark curls disappearing into them and instead raises his eyes. He tries not to stare at James' defined six-pack, either, or his hard pecs, or his broad shoulders. Regulus tries to look into James' dazzling hazel eyes, past his wind-swept dark hair and glasses. He's got his broom over one shoulder, and he leans against the patio door, right into Regulus as he asks, "Well, do you?"
Regulus blinks and mumbles, "Huh?" having completely missed the first half of the question.
James chuckles like his idiocy is somehow cute and repeats, "Have you got any extra Quaffles? Sirius threw ours into the trees, and despite his enthusiasm, I'm not keen on getting lost in there all night." Regulus tilts his head and tries to keep the disappointment off his face. Sirius hasn't played Quidditch with him since before he got into Hogwarts—back when they were still brothers and not a Slytherin and Gryffindor. He wonders briefly if he should suggest the accio spell—but they probably tried that. Maybe it's stuck under a rock or something.
Regulus isn't sure if they have any more Quaffles. He wasn't entirely aware they still had one. But he doesn't want to say no to James—gorgeous, wonderful, hot-as-hell James, who's always sweet and trying to help him out. So he nods weakly and mumbles, "Um... I can check."
James chirps, "Brilliant," and tosses his broom onto the deck. When Regulus awkwardly turns back into the house, James follows him inside, closing the patio door behind them. Regulus leads them stiffly through the living room and around the hallway, down the basement steps and into a storage room. If they have any Quidditch supplies, they'll be with all the other forgotten things—in a basement closet. While he walks, he tries desperately not to think of James behind him—barefoot and sun-kissed and glowing. No one should be allowed to be that handsome. There should be a law against it. It's bad enough just passing him in school. Having him around Regulus' own home in nothing but one falling-off shred of clothing is almost too much to bear.
When he gets to the large closet in the basement, it's a bit difficult to get the door open. It's bursting at the seams with discarded items, and once he does get the door open, it effectively blocks the light of the hall, throwing them both into shadow. The Black home is notoriously dark anyway—their mother has a particularly dreary way of decorating. The only light in the entire basement is a swinging ceiling lamp over by the main stairs, on the other side of the closet door. The contents of the makeshift storage room are completely shrouded in darkness.
Regulus pats his pants down for his wand, only to realize he left it upstairs. He turns to James with another blush across his cheeks, and he mumbles, "Er, sorry, can you do a lumos? I... I left my wand upstairs..."
"It's okay," James chuckles, pulling his own wand out of his jeans. The quick lumos he casts lights up his chest beautifully, and Regulus doesn't look away fast enough. He gets sucked in. He's blushing so hard and he can't help it, and he shifts nervously on the spot while he waits for... something. He notices too late that James is raising an eyebrow, mumbling, "You okay? You look really nervous." Then his face splits in a wide grin, and he asks jovially, "You weren't luring me down here to kill me, were you?"
"What? No!" Regulus instantly squeaks, even though he knows full well that James is joking. James is always joking. James laughs at him. James takes a step closer, and Regulus backs into the closet, back hitting the jagged wall of stuff.
"What, then?" James breathes quietly, eyes glinting with mischief. "Were you just going to rough me up a bit? Or rob me, perhaps? Or seduce me—was that it?" Regulus' blush skyrockets on the last suggestion, to the point that his face feels like it's burning too much not to melt.
James just smiles like his embarrassment is endearing, and before he knows what's happening, James is leaning in, pressing their lips shortly together. It's so chaste and so sudden that Regulus can't even react—he just goes stiff as a board, head fogging.
James' lips are slightly moist, slightly chapped, and a lot softer than Regulus pictured. They're warm, like all of James. When James pulls back, he purrs, "Or were you hoping I'd touch you?"
Regulus blurts, "Please touch me," before he can stop himself. He can't believe it. His mind should be racing, but instead it's completely blank, empty and useless. He feels heady and light. He might just faint. It's as though one of his deepest fantasies has sprung to life before him, delivering his ultimate crush with all the right lines. James raises an eyebrow, smirking. Regulus trembles.
James kisses him again, this time with tongue, and flattens him into the assortment behind them.