#i missed writing dialogue where regulus can actually uhh respond

[static-radio-ao3]

@jegulus-microfic // march 19 // prompt: thumb // words: 819 // part one + part three

“Oh, you bought new detergent! Won’t need mine anymore then.”

James wiggles the bottle at Regulus before unscrewing it. He measures the purple lavender-scented liquid and pours it into the designated little drawer. It took Regulus an embarrassingly long time to figure out what goes in which little compartment — he used to just pour it right onto the clothes in the machine and hope for the best.

Regulus tries not to focus on James’ deft fingers as they fiddle with the buttons on the machine, but it’s a tall order.

He likes James’ hands. Thinks they look warm and solid, rough but not unpleasant to hold. The tan skin stands out against the white of the machine, and the veins on the back of his ha—

“Regulus?”

He is yanked out of his thoughts. Probably for the better, because he was on the verge of drooling in the middle of the laundry room.

Regulus just hums, a non-committal thing, as he twists the cap on his own bottle of laundry detergent.

“What?” James asks, tossing a look over his shoulder. He presses the start button on the machine and turns, settling against it as it starts spinning behind him.

“Nothing.” Regulus busies himself with the settings on his own machine. He turns the dial, looking for the longest program. Hits start, waits for the machine to click and watches as water floods the drum just to buy himself an extra moment.

Eventually he turns to face James again, who has been patiently waiting with his arms crossed over his chest. The shirt he’s wearing looks soft and worn, the faded university logo revealing that the shirt is well-loved.

“It’s not nothing,” James says. “You’re blushing.”

This, inevitably, makes Regulus blush more. Red crawls its way up his neck and spills on his cheeks. He feels warm all over, thinks he might be blushing down to his chest.

“Okay, well, it’s embarrassing,” Regulus says, speaking around where he has a nail tucked between his teeth, biting at it.

“Tell me anyway.”

James makes it sound so easy. Voice so full of sincerity that there is no room for judgment.

“I didn’t run out of detergent the other day.” He lowers his hand, a tiny speck of blood on his thumb from where he bit at the skin. “Just wanted to use yours.”

“You’re right, that is a little embarrassing.”

Regulus’ eyes shoot up from where they were trained on the white tiles of the floor. Embarrassment floods through him, cresting and crashing until it drags him under.

“You—” But James is laughing. He has a hand on his stomach, the other on his knee, because he is laughing. “Oh, shut up! You’re such a piece of shit.”

Regulus looks for something to throw at James, but he comes up empty. The only thing in his vicinity is a nearly-full bottle of detergent and he is not annoyed enough to inflict brain damage.

Yet.

“I’m just fucking with you, love.” James says breathlessly, a little hiccup in his voice as laughter leaves it. He steps away from the machine he was leaning against, crowding into Regulus’ space instead. He has to tilt his head back a little to maintain eye contact with James.

“Does your son know that you’re cursing like this?”

“My son is two, he barely knows anything at all."

“Still. That was rude.”

He sounds petulant. Feels it, too. Mouth twisted up in a scowl despite the smile tugging at the corners.

“I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you,” James says, eyes trained on Regulus' lips. There is a question in his eyes and Regulus nods, a minute movement, careful not to disturb the quiet around them.

James leans in, hands settled on the machine, effectively caging Regulus in. And then James is so close that Regulus can feel puffs of air against his cheek. James’ hand is hovering over the side of his neck. The rumbling of the machines fades and all Regulus can hear is his heartbeat.

In that exact moment, when the whole world is holding it’s breath and the hands of the clock hesitate to keep ticking, a small cry erupts from the baby monitor.

James curses under his breath, taking a step back. Air floods Regulus’ lungs and he laments the fact that it does not smell like James. Like the soft lavender of his detergent. Like the soft lavender that had clung to his own clothes the week before.

“I’m sorry,” James says as he grabs the baby monitor. “I have to go check on him.”

“Of course, of course. Don’t worry about it.” Regulus waves him away, trying to relax his posture and slow the heavy beating of his heart.

“Maybe it’s for the better,” James says, halfway out the door. Regulus feels his heart plummet, taking a free-fall into his stomach. A knot lodges itself in his throat, but before he can speak, James continues. “I don’t think our first kiss should be in the laundry room, of all places.”

“First?”

“Of many. Goodnight, love.”