Chapter Text
“Gap to Potter is 0.7, keep pushing,” Moody’s voice comes over the radio piece in Sirius’ ear as he just tugs on his steering wheel, making his Black-Hill Formula One racing car turn the corner as smoothly as he can manage.
He grumbles under his breath and bites back at his engineer, “I know, Moody, but have you noticed I have a car right on my arse?” A quick glance in his side mirror tells Sirius the red Andretti of his brother is closing in on him while the other red car in front of him is getting farther away.
“0.9, you’re losing him, Black, focus. You need to stay within one second to get DRS,” Moody instructs and Sirius feels like he wants to rip the earpiece out so he can make Moody’s gruff voice go away. He knows he’ll need the Drag Reduction System, which opens the rear wing of his car and increases his speed if he wants a shot at overtaking James. He also knows the rules of Formula One well enough to not have Moody remind him of them every minute.
“I know, thank you very much. Just let me do my thing,” Sirius answers annoyed before making another sharp turn and blocking an attempt from Regulus to pass him. The red car behind him swerves wide from Sirius’ sudden move, making Regulus lose a little time. “Something like that?” Sirius cocks at his engineer as he pushes down on the throttle at his feet, racing down the straight towards James’ red Andretti.
“Two laps Black, get him,” is Moody’s only answer and Sirius has the urge to roll his eyes, even when his engineer can’t see it and it might result in him making mistakes. He focuses on the back of James’ car which comes closer and closer. He tries breaking late into turn three but James is a piece of shit who is excellent at what he does and turns quicker, cutting off Sirius’ driving line. He needs to go wide a little to avoid colliding with his best friend.
“Fucker,” Sirius gasps into his radio. “He should get a penalty for that! Dangerous driving, the idiot.”
A second of silence before Moody comes with the answer he expected, “It’s fair racing, Black. Keep the pressure on.”
Sirius can just imagine James’ grin as he sees the red car speeding towards the next corners, Sirius struggling to keep up. Regulus is still behind him but he is not close enough to pose a threat to Sirius’ podium position at the moment. Third is nice, but Sirius wants second. So, he pushes everything the car has, giving up on his tire management. After fifty-seven laps of pushing, there is not much left of the rubber anyway.
He closes in and as he races over the straight for the last time he knows he can make it. “Gap, Moody?” Sirius inquires shortly, his eyes glued to the red rear wing of James’ car.
“Zero-point-two, don’t break late again,” Moody advises and Sirius considers this but he needs to decide quickly, the corner approaching. Inside or around. He has about three seconds to decide, the speed of his car stealing his time to think. Sirius breaks early and turns around James’ car. They go side to side through the corner and Sirius has the inside on the next, making it past James. He exhales as Moody gives a grumbled “Keep ignoring me, lad, and you will end up in the barriers,” over the radio. Sirius grins widely, moving his black car to the middle of the track so he can block James going into the next corner. James, having used all his battery to defend against Sirius’ advance, falls back and when Sirius crosses the finish line in second place James comes behind him with a one-point-three second gap.
“That’s P2, Black. Great way to start the season,” Moody says, his grin evident in his voice and Sirius eases his foot off the pedal to slow down for his outlap. “Try to save some of the tires, will you?”
Sirius laughs while waving at the crowds he drives past, “I think it’s a little late for that, Moody.”
“Ah, well, worth it.”
Sirius pulls into the pitlane when he finishes his outlap and parks his Black-Hill car neatly behind the board with the number two on it. As he kills the engine he sees the black car of his teammate, Remus, parked beside his and on the other side of Remus’ car, James parks his red Andretti.
Sirius loosens his headrest when Remus has just managed to climb out of his seat, throwing his arms up in victory before sprinting to his mechanics and hugging them tightly. Sirius watches his teammate for a second, not able to ignore the happiness that shows in his posture. If Remus had his helmet off Sirius knows he would see that warm, shy, lovely smile, accentuated by the annoyingly sexy metal ring on the corner of his lips. The smile that is never turned towards Sirius. It might have been, once, but not anymore.
Swallowing, Sirius averts his gaze and climbs out of his own seat to sprint to his team. He receives pats on his back and against his helmet, another halfhearted lecture from Moody for ignoring his advice and lots of praise before walking off to get weighed and wait for the post-race interview.
They couldn’t have hoped for a better start to the season. Remus had gotten pole position and kept hold of first place for the whole race. Sirius, starting third behind James, had a fight ahead of him but managed to land P2 in the end. The first points are in the pocket and Sirius grins as he takes off his helmet and balaclava. He gets his sunglasses handed to him from someone on the side and he quickly fixes them into his hair while watching James being interviewed about his race.
When James’ three questions are done he passes the microphone to Sirius who is up next
“You are a heartless man, you know that?” James mutters under his breath as he passes Sirius. He tries to respond but James only throws him a grin and walks away.
He doesn’t get time to wonder about James’ quip because he is addressed by the reporter; “Sirius, what a start of the season!” she exclaims enthusiastically, “you must feel pretty good about that last overtake?”
“Yeah, the car felt great,” Sirius nods, smiling at the reporter, “the team did a great job in building such a reliable car and I am happy to start the season with such a good race. Potter put up a good fight like he always does but we made it and got the best points for the team so I am certainly happy.”
Sirius glances over his shoulder at Remus, who is standing behind him just outside the camera's view, waiting for his turn. Sirius smiles at him, hoping he can appreciate the compliment. The Dutchman just stands there, not acknowledging Sirius’ existence in the slightest. An undetectable sigh of disappointment leaves Sirius’ lips before he turns back to the reporter.
“Can we expect another nail-biting season between you and your teammate like last year?”
The question makes Sirius look back again, the feeling of disappointment changing to annoyance when he watches Remus, unmoving and unbothered. Fine, he wants another year of this? He can get it. He flashes Remus a sarcastic wink before turning his smile on the reporter and shrugging in answer, “We’ll have to wait and see, I am ready for a fight but we will try to take the constructors title together, of course.”
“Speaking of fights,” the woman starts her last question and Sirius dreads where it is going. Not wanting to talk about his brother again. “We saw a little fight out there between you and Regulus halfway through. How is it racing against your brother?”
Sirius suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at the question. Ever since it was announced that Regulus Black, brother of Sirius Black and son of Ex-driver Orion Black, was joining the grid for 2024 Sirius had been bombarded with questions about it. He is honestly already tired of giving the same rehearsed answer and it’s only the first race of the season.
Cementing his sarcastic smile, Sirius gives the answer he has been giving for the past three months. “I am very proud of Regulus and I hope he performs well, but I will race him like I do every other driver on the grid. Hard.”
“Thank you, Sirius, enjoy the podium,” the reporter finishes and Sirius waves at the crowd before handing the microphone to Remus. He looks the man straight in the eye, perfect amber staring harshly back at him. Their fingers graze as Sirius hands him the microphone and he lets go of the thing to quickly. Luckily Remus catches it between his thighs, so it doesn’t fall to the floor, and takes it in his hand after. Sirius is almost impressed with the reflexes.
“Congratulations,” Sirius smiles that same sarcastic smile, before almost bumping his shoulder into his teammate and heading over to where James is standing off to the side.
He tunes out Remus’ interview and focuses on his best friend. “What was that about being heartless? You almost ran me off the track.”
James scoffs, “I did not, I was just defending. You were the one hunting a man on his birthday.”
Sirius rolls his eyes and takes his sunglasses out of his hair before raking a hand through his long locks. “It being your birthday doesn’t mean that I will give you a position for free, Potter,” He grins, pointing the temple of his glasses at the Spaniard before putting them back in his hair.
“It would have been the perfect birthday gift,” James shrugs, but Sirius knows he is joking. The day James and Sirius stop racing hard is when they stop being best friends. Ever since their karting days, it has been like this. They grew up on the tracks together, and they have always fought hard during races so they didn’t need to fight off the track.
“I’m paying for dinner tonight, be happy,” Sirius laughs, nudging James in the shoulder with his own before they get ushered into the cooldown room before the podium.
When Remus walks in James greets him with congratulations. “We’re not getting a repeat of last year, right Lupin?”
“Of course, we will,” Remus grins at him, after taking a sip of water which makes Sirius swallow heavily while he watches the two talk. Post-race Remus Lupin is a problem for Sirius. All sweaty, the lines of his balaclava still on his cheeks and the expression of victory on his face. He takes another sip and when he licks his lip, lingering on the lip ring for a little longer than necessary, Sirius has to look away before he starts drooling.
It isn’t long before they are called out to the podium. Remus is on the highest step while the Dutch national anthem is played followed by the French, the first for the winning driver's nationality, the second for the country of the driver's team. Sirius looks out over the crowd beneath the podium. He sees Moody and the rest of the engineers and pit crew beaming up at him. Dorcas, their PR manager, stands off to the side, arms crossed, but smiling as well. His eyes roam and there is a slight pang in his chest when he doesn’t find the black curls of his brother among the people standing below.
To his surprise, he does find the grey eyes of his father and Black-Hill’s team principal. If Orion Black bothers to come out of the garage for the podium ceremony it always means he is pleased with the performance of the team. Sirius lifts his head a little in pride as the last notes of the French anthem are played and the crowd cheers.
He grins broadly, looking out over the sea of fans. Driving is the best thrill in his life, he loves the feeling of shooting over the tracks and living on the edge in every corner, but this feeling of the cheering crowds and screaming fans, who all share the same passion as him for racing, never fails to make him incredibly happy.
Sirius quickly grabs the neck of the champagne bottle that is waiting at his feet, shakes it with all his might and brings it down onto the step of the podium to let the liquid spring free and spray around. He laughs loudly, turning his head away to protect himself from the spray coming from James’ bottle that is aimed right at him.
“You dick,” he laughs as he sprays back, hitting James full in the face. “Happy birthday.”
Remus, probably having heard Sirius’ birthday wish, turns away from spraying Mary, his engineer who came with them to the podium as team representative, and aims his champagne spray at James as well. “Oh right, I almost forgot!” Remus laughs and joins Sirius in drenching James to the bone with the sticky alcohol. James, being a good sport, spreads his arms and takes the champagne that is poured over him like a shower, while he takes a big swig from his own bottle.
Sirius shakes his head at his idiotic friend before moving back up the podium for the picture. When Remus comes to stand next to him Sirius tries very hard not to feel the warmth that radiates from the driver. He looks up, trying to catch the man's eye but Remus is not looking at him. Never looking at him.
Regulus can still hear the faint music of the French national anthem coming from the podium as he walks into the garage to find Barty looking at the data from the race. He tries to block out the sound but doesn’t really succeed. Why are they playing the anthem so absurdly loud?
It’s not that Regulus is mad about Remus winning, of course, he is happy for his friend and he grants him the victory because Remus had driven an amazing first race. The bitter taste in his mouth is jealousy: he wants to hear that anthem played for him .
Being a rookie in Formula One isn’t easy for anyone, but add to that being the brother to another driver, who is widely hated and loved by the fans and media alike, and the son of an ex-driver and two-time world champion, well. There is a lot of expectation resting on Regulus’ shoulders, let alone the high standards he sets himself.
There’s only one thing good enough, and that’s the highest step of that podium. Nothing else.
“Barty, show me what you’ve found,” Regulus demands while he unzips his race suit, letting it hang around his waist. He pulls up a stool and sits down next to Barty, turning his eyes to the data on the screens.
“It is your breaking in turns three, eleven and fourteen,” Barty answers pointing something out on one of the screens. “You break a little too early. You hit the apex but it gives you a less optimal exit. Any ideas?”
Regulus sighs, wiping his face in frustration while looking at the data. “It’s just because they’re all chicanes, I think,” he concludes, seeing the similarities of the corners immediately. “I prepare too much for the corner coming after the break point.”
“I think so too,” Barty nods, pulling up another window showing Regulus his acceleration during the parts of the track he is struggling with. Regulus sees his flaw and nods sternly.
“Alright, I can work with that,” Regulus declares before turning on his stool to look outside. The podium ceremony should be finished by now and he has to get to the media pen for interviews but he will stall as long as he can. He already hates the obnoxious reporters and the stupid questions they ask.
All his life he has dealt with the media. It was unavoidable being the son of Orion Black and starting his racing career, he had been thoroughly prepared by both his parents to talk to the press ever since he could talk. During his karting days, it wasn’t bad and in Formula Three he had been overshadowed by his brother taking most of the spotlight. It was when he got his seat in Formula Two two years ago that the media really started to annoy him with the same questions. His mother had warned him that Formula One would only get worse and both he and Sirius were warned to keep their heads straight and never talk badly about each other or the family in general. He intends to heed that warning and hopes his brother does too.
Sirius had warned him about everything people might say, but the reactions to the announcement that Regulus would be joining Andretti in 2024 were surprisingly positive. Of course, people were saying his seat was bought and he only got his place on the team because of his father, but it wasn’t half as bad as the things Sirius hears daily. Still, he had only experienced the media of Formula One during the testing days, where they were almost not present, and yesterday after qualifying, so it could still turn ugly.
“Black!” The sharp voice of Lily Evans rings through the garage and Regulus tries to shrink on his stool, hiding behind Barty, “you know I can see you, right?”
Regulus slides off his stool and turns to her with a scowl. “Can I change first?”
“No, let’s go. I am taking personal responsibility for your interviews as they are your first. Now, move,” Lily snaps her fingers and Regulus shares a quick look with Barty that indicates they are both terrified of the woman. She isn’t much older than them, but her natural aura makes Regulus stand straight and follow her as a tamed lamb.
“It’s hardly my first time doing interviews, Lily,” Regulus complains while they make their way to the front of the paddock where the press is gathered in the media pen for the post-race interviews.
Lily slows her pace a little so she walks next to Regulus instead of in front of him. “I know, but it will be your first post-race interview and you placed fourth, that is an amazing achievement, Regulus! You are bound to get bombarded with questions,” she smiles up at him, “I just want to be here for you.”
The media pen is crowded but a quick glance around tells Regulus the podium placers are not there yet, which makes the atmosphere more relaxed than he had anticipated. “SkySports first,” Lily points to a man when they enter the square where the reporters are lined up on the outside.
“Hello Regulus,” the man smiles friendly at him when Regulus approaches, “fourth place, a great performance today. How are you feeling?”
Regulus immediately shifts into his well-trained interview demeanour, a slight smile and neutral stance, to mask how he really feels about the race which is utter shit. “Yes, it was a good debut,” he answers curtly. When the man doesn’t jump onto the statement with the next question Regulus elaborates a little. “The car felt great and I am happy to score points for the team.”
“It looked for a short moment that you were going to take third, what a debut result that would have been.”
The glint in the eyes of the man doesn’t appear friendly to Regulus and he sees it for what it is. Take the bait . Regulus isn’t going to, he just smiles a little wider and shrugs. “We race and fight, sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. I am very happy for Sirius and Black-Hill, they had a great day.”
The man nods and Regulus sees Lily holding up a finger at the man, indicating he has one question left. The man looks between Regulus and his PR-manager, looking like he is trying to decide how far he can take it. Regulus has enough experience to know what the man really wants to know. The press might seem to be interested in the race results and drivers' thoughts about it, which is half true, but at the end of the day they need to sell stories and those come from juice, gossip, and drama and they will do anything to get the best information to tell.
“Racing against your brother, how is that?”
Regulus suppresses a heavy sigh and the urge to roll his eyes. “Racing against Sirius feels the same as racing against the other eighteen drivers. I’m glad to have the opportunity to race in Formula One and I will fight for every win, with everyone.” His tone might have a little more bite than he intends, but Regulus honestly can’t care. He nods at the reporter once more and steps back, leaning in to whisper to Lily, “I will murder the next person who tries to get me to talk about my brother or father.”
Lily squeezes his shoulder supportively, chuckling while she leads him to the next reporter. “Don’t ask me to help bury the bodies.”
Regulus lets out a sigh and turns to the next reporter.
“Am I delusional?” Regulus asks with a deep sigh as he sits down on a chair next to Remus, who is sitting outside the Black-Hill hospitality, journal in hand and his pen at the ready.
“Yes,” Remus answers confidently, setting his journal down on the table, pen in between the pages.
“Funny,” Regulus deadpans at his friend, crossing his arms before sighing again.
Remus shrugs, crossing his arms as well, mirroring Regulus’ position. “What are you being delusional about?”
“When the announcement of my place at Andretti was received so positively I thought- no, I had hoped the press wouldn’t care who my father or brother is, but I am clearly delusional because I just spend fifteen minutes answering the same questions,” Regulus complains while staring at the people walking by.
“I stand with yes,” Remus announces and Regulus turns his head to look at the Dutchman with a raised brow, “you are delusional. You are the son of an old World Champion, you are never going to outrun that.”
“This isn’t helping, Lupin,” Regulus scoffs, sitting up to make a grab for Remus’ journal. Remus however is quicker and snatches the thing off the table before Regulus can get it.
“No, don’t flee into my thoughts,” Remus scolds before leaning in a little. “You are never going to change who you are, Reg, only one thing to do.”
“Prove them wrong, show them who I am. Yes, we’ve had this talk a million times,” Regulus stands, starting to make his way back to his own hospitality next to the Black-Hill hospitality when he turns around and finishes his tirade. “I just wanted to complain, don’t give me logical solutions when I don’t ask for them.”
“Regulus, watch-”
The warning isn’t quick enough and when Regulus turns back to resume his way up the paddock he collides headfirst with a wall that appeared out of nowhere. Losing his balance, Regulus falls back and stumbles backwards until a hand grips his wrist.
“Wow, you need to watch your steps, Regulus. I don’t want to lose you to injury already,” a deep voice tells him laughing. Regulus blinks once to steady himself again. When his vision clears he is met with the deep brown eyes of his teammate. Bright smile greeting him, white teeth on display and his nostril piercing glinting gold in the sun.
Fuck.
He has not run into a wall, he has run into his James. Regulus can’t decide which of the two is worse. He and James had met briefly during the testing days but everything had been so hectic that they hadn’t had a chance to really get to know each other. The only things Regulus knows about James are through Sirius and that he is insanely hot, which in his current situation isn’t helping to clear his mind.
“James, I…” Regulus can’t think of a suitable excuse and lets his sentence trail off while stepping back. That makes him aware that James is still holding onto his wrist. The skin under James’ touch starts to prickle and Regulus clears his throat quickly, freeing himself from James’ grip, grabbing his newly freed wrist with his other hand in an attempt to douse the weird feeling quickly.
Still laughing, James shakes his head, and Regulus needs to take another step back to create enough distance between the Spaniard and himself to look at him normally. James has a good three centimetres on Regulus and he doesn’t want to strain his neck looking at the guy. “You’re good?” James asks, looking Regulus over like he is checking if he is, indeed, alright.
Regulus hums and nods. “Yes, fine.”
“Good,” James answers just as curtly as Regulus and the two just look at each other for a moment. James’ eyebrows are slightly knitted together as he appears to study Regulus, it makes the Frenchman feel almost naked, his blood starts to flow a little quicker and he feels like he needs to get away from James’ gaze.
Stepping around James he resumes his way to the Andretti hospitality. “I’m gonna…” Regulus points at the red building behind James as he starts walking, “yeah, right, sorry.”
But before he can take another step he feels a weight on his back, arms around his neck and he braces just in time before he is tackled to the ground. “Reggie!”
“Putain Sirius, tu veux me tuer? Laisse-moi partir, espèce d'idiot.” (Fuck, Sirius, do you want to kill me? Let me go, you idiot) Regulus groans as he tries to pry Sirius' arms loose from around him.
“Ah, petite Fourmi, Je ne t'ai pas manqué?” (Ah, little Ant, didn't you miss me?) Sirius laughs into his ear which makes Regulus flinch away.
Regulus scoffs, finally succeeding in getting Sirius off his back and turns around to scowl at his brother. “You literally saw me yesterday,” he says, switching to English so they don’t exclude James, still standing next to them, and Remus, who appears unbothered, but Regulus knows he is too nosy not to listen in.
“True, but I haven’t seen you after the race yet. Mon petit frère a Formula One driver, can we believe it?” Sirius slings his arm around Regulus' shoulder, trying to ruffle his hair which Regulus dodges by twisting out of his grip. “Congrats on fourth place, it’s an amazing first race result, Fourmi.”
Regulus nods, “Thanks, but it’s me who needs to congratulate all of you.”
“Nonsense,” James chimes in, “We all had a podium before none of us made fourth place in our debut race, you did great Regulus.”
The genuine smile and praise James gives Regulus make the younger driver uncomfortable and he quickly retorts; “Well, no, but you,” Regulus points at James and Remus, “both have a world title already and you,” he turns back to his brother, “are a multiple time f1 race winner.”
“Reggie-” Sirius wants to argue but, to Regulus’ surprise, James cuts him off.
“We can all celebrate!” he claps in his hands and looks from Sirius to Regulus, “and because it’s my birthday everything I say is law.” He winks at Regulus who stares blankly at him, while the gears in his brain turn fast.
“You want me to come to your birthday party?” Regulus asks sceptically.
“Well, it’s just dinner. His actual party is next week,” Sirius answers for James.
The Spaniard nods with a smile, adding to Sirius' statement; “Which you can also come to if you want?” Regulus doesn’t know what to say. To him, James was always this guy his brother hung out with and they met in passing but they were barely acquaintances, let alone friends. And now James invites him to his birthday dinner and party? Regulus stares at him with a confused expression and James seems to pick up on his predicament because he explains; “We’re teammates now and that means we are bound to spend a lot of time together anyway. I would be glad if you could make it.”
Regulus still isn’t convinced. Why is James being so nice, they are just colleagues. The weird tingling that he felt on his skin just before returns, and it spreads up his arms to his chest. He doesn’t know if it’s a good feeling or if he wants to scratch at it. He looks considerately at James and he offers, “You could bring some of your friends if that would make you more comfortable.”
James is being too attentive to Regulus’ well-being. First, when he bumped into the man, then picking up on his discomfort while his brother tried to compliment him and now this. Regulus can’t stop the blush from creeping onto his face as he registers just how considerate James is, and he quickly looks away, his eyes landing on Remus who is still sitting at the table.
It takes another second, but then Regulus nods. “Okay,” he says, not turning back to James before calling out to his friend. “Remus, wanna come with me?”
Remus finally stands, making his way over to the little group while putting his journal away in his bag. “Where do I want to go?” Remus asks like he hasn’t been listening in on the conversation the whole time.
“James’ birthday dinner,” Sirius blurts out, and Regulus lifts his brows at his brother before glancing at James who seems to be just as surprised by Sirius’ abnormal behaviour.
Remus glances around the group, probably seeing both Regulus’ and James’ expressions clearly, but he chooses to ignore it and shrugs nonchalantly at Sirius. “Sure, right now?”
Sirius doesn’t answer but turns to James for confirmation. Regulus looks between James and his brother and there seems to be some silent conversation going on until the Spaniard shakes his head at his friend and turns to Remus to answer. “Yes, we were just heading out.”
Remus nods and turns his gaze back on Sirius for a second before nudging Regulus. “Shouldn’t you change then?”
Regulus looks down at himself, still wearing his red race suit around his hips and his sweaty underwear on display. “Right,” he nods, “Give me ten minutes. I’ll be right back.” And with that, he dashes off to the Andretti hospitality.
If Remus didn’t know better he would have thought James had reserved the whole restaurant for his birthday dinner. Even without the last-minute addition of himself and Regulus, the space would have been packed. The restaurant owners had kindly pushed a couple of tables together to accommodate the large group.
Remus looks at the people around the table while munching on his sweet potatoes. He sees Mary, his engineer, talking to Lily, Dorcas and Marlene. The girls seem to be getting along quite well, talking animatedly with each other. Remus knows Lily and Marlene better than the other two. He mentally makes a note to get to know his engineer on a more personal level soon. They will be working together a lot and a good relationship is beneficial to working well.
There are a few people Remus only vaguely knows from the Andretti team, and on the right end of the table, the drivers of Senna racing team, Benjy and Kingsley are talking to the drivers of Ascari, Gideon and Amos. Remus doesn’t know the guys well, but James must be friends with them to invite them to his dinner. Thinking about it, Remus concludes James is friends with everyone on the grid. There are only a few drivers missing. Not that this surprises Remus, James has always been a friendly, easy going guy.
Remus has spent most of his early career staying away from the prodigy that is James Potter, son of multi-championship winner Fleamont Potter and a true spoiled only child. At least, that’s what Remus had always thought. It was only last year he was proven wrong when Remus joined Black-Hill and James turned out to be a decent guy. In contrast to some other people who turned out to be exactly what he thought they would be.
A loud laugh makes him look over to the end of the table and it takes all his might not to roll his eyes instantly. James sits at the head of the table, being the birthday boy, talking to the guys from Minardi, Peter and Frank. They laugh loudly and Remus is almost curious about what they are talking about if it wasn’t for the other roaring laugh mixed into the sounds.
Sirius Orion Black.
The Frenchman is hanging back in his chair, looking every bit the posh brat he is. His hands are folded around the back of his chair, one elbow leaning on it, his sleeves bunched up, showing off his tattooed arm. His hair flows over his back as he throws his head back laughing and the sunglasses perched in his locks are at risk of falling, that’s how excessively Sirius hangs back.
Obnoxious fucker.
Remus’ blood rushes as he watches Sirius' overdramatic display to get attention. Sirius is exactly the person Remus has always thought he’d be and what the media tells about him: Self-absorbed, horny on attention, vain, and too rich for his own good. There might have been a time when Remus would have hoped he could be friends with Sirius, but that was negated after the incident. Joining Black-Hill it had been hard to completely avoid the man, but Remus did his very best with success.
“If you want to murder him, I would offer to be your alibi.”
Remus, suddenly aware he had been staring at Sirius for a good while, averts his gaze to look at the other Black brother. “What?”
Regulus shrugs, puts a bite of his chicken into his mouth and points the utensil between Remus and Sirius. “Well, you were looking like you were planning my brother's murder, and I’m not going to be the one to stop you so…”
“I wasn’t planning his murder,” Remus rolls his eyes, turning back to his potatoes.
Regulus turns to Remus with a raised brow. “Then what is all the staring about? It’s creepy.”
“‘All the staring’,” Remus says mockingly, making air quotes with his fingers, “is nothing.”
“It’s no secret you don’t like the guy, you just don’t complain to me about it because he is my brother,” Regulus muses, chewing happily on his food while taunting Remus. “You can tell me what’s bothering you, he is my brother and therefore I have to hate him.”
Remus laughs at that illogical declaration. “Don’t you mean you have to love him?”
“That too,” Regulus shrugs nonchalantly. Remus laughs louder and shakes his head at his friend. Regulus smirks, pointing his fork at Remus, almost taking out his eye. “You, only child, could never understand.”
“Maybe,” Remus hiccups from laughter, “but I don’t think I want to.”
Regulus opens his mouth to quip something back but is interrupted by Sirius leaning over the table. “What is so funny you have to laugh so loudly I can’t even hear someone that’s sitting no further than a few inches away from me,” he asks with an arrogant expression, his grey eyes piercing Remus’ amber ones. The grey is stunning, almost silver looking, but they are equally cold and harsh which makes Remus glare back at him automatically.
“Regulus hates you,” Remus says, his voice void of any emotion. Regulus lets out a loud laugh which earns him a glare from his brother.
“Well, he’s not wrong,” Regulus offers, an explanation that explains nothing. “If it makes you feel better I was laughing about Remus’ incompetence to understand sibling relations.”
Sirius’ gaze shifts back to Remus and the corners of his mouth lift in an evil grin. “It actually does,” he bites out, before turning back to his conversation with Frank, Peter and James.
“Ouch,” Regulus chuckles, “what did you do to him?” Remus doesn’t answer, opting to take a sip of his water instead. He didn’t do anything to Sirius, Sirius is the one who did shit to him and then brushed it off like nothing ever happened. Remus’ silence is enough to clue Regulus in on what he is thinking about and he clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Don’t tell me it’s still about-”
“Shut it, Regulus,” Remus bites at him, shoving his chair back, not wanting to be in this company anymore. “You don’t know what it was like.”
Regulus shakes his head, looking apologetic. “I don’t, you're right. Sorry, okay? Please just stay, you really can’t leave me here alone.”
Remus scoffs, gesturing at the table of people. “You’ll hardly be alone.”
“You know what I mean,” Regulus pleads and Remus does know. Remus has known Regulus for long enough now to know how he is around strangers, and not all the people at the table are strangers but there are too many new faces for the Frenchman to be comfortable if Remus leaves.
He gives in with a sigh and sits back down. “You owe me,” Remus declares while he picks up his previously abandoned fork.
“Promise,” Regulus grins back and the two resume dinner, mingling as best as they can in a group of people in which Remus doesn’t know where he fits. It’s such a recurring theme of his life that after twenty-five years Remus knows how to deal with it. So, he turns to the girls inserting himself in their conversation to try and make the best of the rest of the evening, pointedly ignoring the piercing silver eyes he feels digging into his back.