ENCHANTED ⇒ jegulus

TWENTY THREE

James can barely hear anything as he approaches the large, sage green hospital doors. His black converse screeching off of the floor as he moves. He knocks before entering. Sirius' voice beckons him in with a soft "Come in,"

James wishes he hadn't been allowed enter. Regulus is hunched, laying against the narrow mattress, his head pressed against a white pillow. His cheeks are flushed and his face is shiny with sweat. His features are etched with pain and twisted in agony. One of his pale, skinny arms is outstretched, a shaking hand clutching Sirius' stronger, more grounded hand.

Sirius himself is knelt beside Regulus' hospital bed, they're face to face, silver eyes to silver eyes. Sirius gently strokes back a tuff of Regulus' dark hair from his forehead. It's beginning to become sweaty and has stuck itself to Regulus' forehead. How long has Regulus been in pain for? How much has James missed?

"Hey, Prongs, hey," Sirius mumbles softly, taking his eyes away from Regulus for a second.

"How's he doing?" James asks, already removing his jacket. He has no time for greetings. He places his jacket and his little shopping bag on a nearby chair before approaching the bed.

"He's...he's been better," Sirius frowns, his features softening. He fondly strokes Regulus' head, combing his fingers through his dark locks of raven hair. "Reggie, hon," Sirius utters gently, speaking calmly and clearly. "James is here,"

Regulus breathes heavily. He clenches his eyes shut, his face further twisting in pain. "Hi, Potter," He manages through staggered breathing. James watches the way in which his free hand grips at the thin bedsheets.

James kneels next to Sirius. "Hey," He says gently. "How're you feeling? Can I get you anything?"

Regulus wearily shakes his head. "Feel like fucking shit, Potter," He groans softly, squeezing Sirius' hand a little.

"That's it, that's it," Sirius murmurs. "Just squeeze my hand when they get bad. That was bad one, was it?"

"Well, it wasn't a good one, Sirius," Regulus whines halfheartedly, opening his eyes in a squinting manner.

"They never are, are they?" James offers gently. "Are you sure you don't want water or anything? A cup of tea?" He asks.

Regulus shakes his head once more. "Make these fucking contractions stop, Potter, won't you? That's what you can do for me at this particular moment in time," He huffs slightly. He's trying to be how he usually is; crude and cold and unemotional. But James can see so many varied forms of emotions seeping through his demeanor as Regulus tries in vain to remain composed.

James smiles tenderly. "I'll do my best," He mutters.

Regulus' lips part but whatever he is about to say is replaced by a low, pained groan coming from the back of his throat as he ducks his head into his pillow.

Sirius gently strokes his knuckles. "You're okay, it'll be over in a second, I promise," He mumbles. "Shush, you're alright,"

Regulus gasps for air, panting quietly. When he lifts his head, James is sorry to see his petit face screwed up in pain. "Sirius," He whispers, finally, his emotions fall through the cracks in his facade. "It's really starting to hurt now," He confesses in a quiet, embarrassed tone.

Sirius pats his head. "Nothing you can't handle," He reminds. "You're alright, Reggie. You're just getting closer, is all," He says. "Baby's almost here, you're almost through, kiddo,"