stephanometra

Title: The Broom Cupboard Incident
Pairing: James/Regulus (hot like woah)
Rating: R, for boykissing and other sorts of fumblings. And many incidences of the word "fuck."
Word Count: 1454
Author's Note: This is all

xylodemon's fault. Just so we've got that clear from the get-go. I can't really be mad at her though, because I think that this is going to make it into "Before You Know It," at least conceptually.

danithesquirrel read it over for me and cheered me on. <3

- - -

"I'm telling you, mate, it won't budge."

Sirius sighs exasperatedly. "Potter, your lack of faith wounds me."

"He's been threatening to put up a ward even we couldn't bust for years, Sirius. I think he's actually done it this time."

"Budge over and let me have a go, yeah?" He shoves James aside, squints intently at the lock, and runs through half a dozen unlocking spells; when none works, he swears, kicks the door, and then swears again, holding his injured foot.

James snickers. Sirius, hopping on one foot, punches him, then swears again as he topples to the ground, overbalanced.

James laughs harder.

Sirius glowers up at him from the floor.

"Come on, then," James says. He grabs hold of Sirius' wrist and helps him halfway to his feet, but he goes stock-still and lets go before Sirius is completely steady.

Sirius falls down again. "Oi!"

"Shut up, Padfoot." He cocks his head to the side, obviously listening for something.

Sirius does the same. "Footsteps. Those are definitely footsteps." He scrambles up off the floor and pats his pocket to make sure his wand is still there.

"Shite!" James glances at his watch; it's half two. Detention for a week, if it's a teacher, and longer if it's Flitwick, judging by how kindly he took it the last time they broke into the Charms classroom. And they can't both fit under the cloak anymore. "Sirius. Take the cloak." He collects the featherlight pile of fabric from the ground and holds it out.

Sirius looks at it like it's a particularly repulsive species of toad. "What about you?"

"I'll make for the one-eyed witch. No sense in both of us getting caught."

A snort. "Like I'm going to run off and leave you, Prongs. You should be so lucky."

"I'm serious," James says, cutting off the usual reply (which ceased to be funny in second year, thanks) with a glare. "McGonagall still hasn't forgiven you for the catnip incident, she'll go spare."

Sirius pouts.

"You know I'm right."

Begrudgingly, Sirius takes the cloak and swings it around his shoulders. "Your funeral, Potter."

The footsteps are closer. Twenty seconds, give or take a few, until whoever it is will round the corner. James looks longingly up the corridor towards the statue of the humpbacked witch and the sanctuary behind it. Definitely more than twenty seconds' sprint away.

There is a broom cupboard about half the distance away, he knows; it's not as safe, but all things being considered it's a much better option than a week of detention. He runs for it, closing the door just as the echoing footsteps announce that whoever it is has just turned the corner.

James, sinking to the floor, breathes a sigh of relief when the footfalls pass his bolthole that becomes a panicked huff when they turn around and start back towards him. He looks around the pitch-black closet with eyes still mostly unused to the dark searching for a place to hide, or failing that, a blunt object of some sort that he can use to bludgeon Filch into unconsciousness before the caretaker gets a chance to identify him.

A sad-looking mop is all he comes up with. He blinks stupidly at it, then pulls off his glasses and sets them aside – they're distinctive, after all. And he can see well enough to crack Filch one over the head without them. Maybe. Possibly.

"Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck," he whispers under his breath as he hears the turn of the doorknob, shutting his eyes tight and holding the mop in front of him with a white-knuckled grip.

The door opens.

"Well, fancy meeting you here." Sirius' voice says with wry amusement. "What the hell are you doing with that mop?"

James breathes a sigh of relief, setting it down and opening his eyes just as the door swings shut again. "Hey!" he starts, but anything else he might have said entirely leaves his mind when Sirius launches himself at James, straddles James' thighs, and shoves his tongue into James' mouth.

It's completely unexpected and strange to think about, kissing his best mate, but it feels brilliant all the same. His hands come up around Sirius' back, feeling the warmth of the skin under Sirius' shirt.

Sirius' fingers trail down his stomach, nimbly unbuttoning his trousers and slipping into his pants. James makes a choked noise in the back of his throat as a hand wraps around his suddenly rather interested cock.

Tentatively, he moves his hand to the placket of Sirius' trousers, pressing the heel of his hand against the hot, hard bulge he finds there, and Sirius moans into his mouth, attacking his lips with tongue and teeth and stroking his cock with cool fingers.

James isn't queer or anything, but that sound is desperately arousing all the same as it reverberates in his chest. He fumbles with Sirius' flies, pushing pants and trousers out of the way to grip Sirius' cock, leans forward to kiss the pulse point on Sirius' neck.

Sirius moans again, wildly, and presses closer against him, running his thumb over the head of James' cock as he thrusts forward into the circle of James' fingers over and over, until he stiffens and pulses in James' hand, spattering James' hand and shirt with come.

Then Sirius brushes James' balls with his knuckles, and James' hips snap up off the cold floor as his own orgasm overtakes him. "Sirius – oh, fuck, Sirius!" he cries, shutting his eyes and throwing back his head.

Then the weight on his lap is gone and a lit wand pokes him in the cheek. He opens his eyes, startled, and the horrified grey eyes staring back into his own might belong to Sirius, but the jaw is a little softer, the cheekbones a little sharper, the hair not quite as long.

Regulus.

Oh, bloody hell.

He opens his mouth and closes it a couple of times, completely at a loss for words.

Then the door swings open again, and – fuck, as if it could get worse – Snape, of all people, peers at them in confusion for a moment before going red with fury and drawing his wand.

It suddenly dawns on James that he should probably go for his own, and he manages to spit out a hex at random before Snivellus' Stupefy hits him.

- - -

James wakes up in the hospital wing with no inkling of how he got there and a hell of a headache. It's morning, judging by the pale light filtering in through the drapes. He sits up and fumbles around for his glasses, blinking owlishly. He puts them on and looks around.

Then he sees Snivellus and Sirius' brother in the beds on either side of his own and promptly wishes that he hadn't.

"Oh my God."

Snivellus opens one eye, catlike, and stares balefully at him. "Fuck off, Potter. Some of us are trying to sleep."

"I don't think I am ever going to sleep again. I am traumatized. Scarred. Permanently." James pulls off his glasses again and covers his face with his hands, massaging his temples and rubbing his eyes. Fuck, his head hurts.

"Do shut up about trauma, won't you."

"You're not the one who had it off with Sirius' brother!"

Snape opens both eyes and arches an eyebrow, smirking in amusement. "Oh?"

James' jaw drops and he scrubs at his eyes again. "Circe and Morgana, I did not need to know that."

"And I did not need to see your manky kit. Between the two of us, I do believe I win as far as permanent emotional scarring is considered."

Bristling, James says, "It is not manky."

"I'm sure."

James sighs.

"Potter?"

"What?"

"I will kill you if you ever touch him again."

James looks at Snivellus incredulously. "Come again?"

"You heard me."

They both look at Regulus, who is completely and blissfully dead to the world. Sirius sleeps that way, sound and deep in a way that makes Remus want to kill him during the week before the moon. James smiles a little at the thought and hopes Sirius made it back to Gryffindor Tower safely.

"I assure you, Snape, I have no intention of ever doing anything of the – oh. Oh, oh God."

"What?"

"Sirius."

"What about the worthless sod?"

"He can't know. Ever. And I will definitely hex you for that later."

Snivellus looks at him as if James is the biggest idiot ever born. "Honestly, Potter."

"He can't! He'd go completely ballistic!"

"Then you'd best not tell him." Snape turns over, obviously intending to go back to sleep.

James blinks, flopping down onto his back. "Wouldn't dream of it."

No, he has no desire to tell Sirius anything.

- - -

I WILL DIE WITHOUT YOUR FEEDBACK!
So will kittens. LOTS OF THEM.