ENCHANTED ⇒ jegulus

FOURTEEN

Humming softly, James stirs his morning tea. He contemplates bringing Regulus up a cup of Earl Grey but ultimately decides it would indefinitely end in more trouble than ever intended.

James glances towards the living room. He can see the outlinings of Regulus piece; the sonogram. "For fuck sake," James curses softly, gazing at the dried paint.

Somehow, in some strangely sickening sense, seeing how Regulus has painted the sonogram pains James. It is filled with soft pastels, soft blues and faint yellows and light purples. It is colorful, vibrant. It is brighter than anything else James has seen from Regulus' sketchbook. But this is perhaps because it is simply painted.

Something about knowing that Regulus did this, that he took the time to paint this and not merely sketch it out, haunts James like a looming poltergeist.

James only adverts his gaze from the painting when Regulus steps lightly down the stairs and into the kitchen, scowling. He is dressed; which is unusual for Regulus. James has found that Regulus likes spending time in his pajamas, but this fact counteracts the snort Sirius had let out years ago that Regulus doesn't like feeling unclean. He likes fresh clothes. This leaves James to wonder if pregnancy has changed Regulus in more ways than the ones he had originally assumed.

Neither of them speak for a moment.

Regulus certainly doesn't make any attempts to open his pursed lips. They simply eye one another, almost in a suspicious manner.

Perhaps each man is preparing themselves for another screaming match.

James eventually clears his throat. "Good morning, Regulus," He pipes.

Regulus nods curtly. "Goodbye, Potter," He heads for the floo and James scowls.

"Where on earth are you going then? We....you have a healer's appointment later on," James reminds, pretending as though he doesn't care where Regulus goes.

Regulus whirls around. "Where I go doesn't concern you," He snaps.

Great. They've already begun. It's barely ten.

James rolls his eyes. "Fine. See if I care where you fucking go then," He grits in response. Regulus is such a fucking brat. "But be a good boy and show up for your appointment, won't you?"

Regulus narrows his eyes. "Fine. I will,"

With that he is gone through the floo without so much as another glance towards James.

When James arrives at St. Mungos, Regulus is already seated in the waiting room. He whips his head to face James. "You're late,"

"I'm barely late,"

"Barely late is still late," Regulus snarks. His arms are folded over his chest in a hostile manner.

James takes a seat beside him. "Right. I didn't realize this was such a big deal for you-"

"Oh, fuck off," Regulus grumbles, shaking his head. "You're the one who ensured that I would....what was the phrase that you used....'show up'?" Regulus hisses.

James shakes his head. "I'm not continuing this argument for days on end. Stop acting like a child,"

"You seem to like it when your girlfriend acts like a child-"

"Regulus," James snaps. "I am sorry that I brought your paintings up in the same sentence as the baby, is that what you want me to say?"

Regulus is quiet. "What I'd actually like to hear from you is that you bloody understand we are not here to play house. Think of me as a surrogate," He barks.