Only the Brave

Chapter 13: Do you trust me?

Regulus' hand fits into James' like someone took moulds and made them to measure purposefully. He's cold, but James doesn't mind because he's always too warm. See? Again. They're made to work together. Opposites that fit to make a balanced... something. James can't look at that too closely, not yet, but it exists. He can tell because his chest constricts and then expands like it's full of bubbles when Regulus touches him.

James tugs gently, so gently, like Regulus might get spooked and bolt. But Regulus comes closer. There's reluctance and hesitation on every line of his body, but he's moving, so James is tentatively hopeful.

James gestures to the back of his broom with his head and Regulus climbs on it without a word. Regulus is a very good flyer, so he sits on the broom without issue at first, then James can tell when he comes to the inevitable conclusion of what has to happen next. James did build this entire plan around the fact that Regulus would have to hold on to him. He's looking forward to it.

"Actually, no," Regulus says, and begins to climb off the broom.

James twists his body. "Come on, Regulus. It's just for your safety."

"No."

He's stubborn, James will give him that. The scowl is back, pulling his eyebrows together. There's a determined glint to his eyes. This boy will not agree to this, James can see that clearly.

Alright. Okay. So, his plan isn't working.

James can adapt. He's smart, or so he's told. And he's picked up on the fact that Regulus is a little particular about physical contact. He only seems to accept it if he's the one that initiates it. And this might be for nothing, but James thinks perhaps he'll agree to a swap. At this point, James has nothing to lose so he might as well just try.

"What if you go in front of me instead?"

Regulus pauses. He's standing on the roof again, looking uncertain. He's scowling even more, believe it or not, because that's just his permanent face, apparently. But he's still here, and he's not hexing James, so he's taking the win.

"And you hold on to me?" Regulus asks, tilting his head to the side like he's considering it.

James nods. "Yeah."

"You would have zero control over the broom," he says. It's the way his voice snags on the word that clues James in. Regulus likes to feel like he's in control of situations. That's fine, because James has no problem simply tagging along for a ride.

"Don't mind that. Well, I did plan a whole route for us, but I don't mind changing it. You could fly wherever you want. Or, I can tell you where to go," James says calmly.

Regulus is fidgeting with his rings, which is distracting. But he takes a tentative step closer. James waits. Doesn't push. It has to be his choice. Otherwise, they're never going to get anywhere.

"Alright," Regulus says finally, setting his shoulders. "You hold on to me."

James slides back on the broom, and Regulus climbs in front of him this time. When he's settled, James scoots forward, until the other boy is firmly between his legs. James should have thought this through, because he's only now realising that he's basically sentenced himself to literal torture for the foreseeable future.

Regulus fits. He fits like he's made for him. To sit right here, between James' legs. He thinks of a fireplace, and a pile of books—Regulus seems like the sort of person who just reads a lot of books—and blankets and cushions. A lush carpet. Hot drinks steaming on a side table nearby. Regulus sitting between James' legs, reading. James simply being. Quiet. Peaceful. With this boy against him, and the fire cracking, and snow swirling outside their window.