Smooth Sailing

Race Day

"Howdy, partner," James said, in his worst attempt at an American accent. He held out a to-go cup for Regulus, who was already rigging the boat. "Earl Grey, two sugars, dash of lemon."

"What the hell?" Regulus asked. "No one memorises that."

"I do," James said.

"Why?" Regulus looked genuinely surprised.

James gave Regulus his million-dollar smile, the one he used to distract the prefects with while Sirius and Frank stocked up for a party. "I take a special interest in my teammates."

Regulus turned back to the boat, badly hiding the blush crawling across his cheeks. "You are such a git. Here, help me with the tension."

James startled; he'd been concentrating on Regulus' hands as he skillfully tied a knot. "The what?" He felt his face grow hot.

Regulus handed James a bit of rope. "The jib, you idiot." James took the rope from Regulus, who held on for a bit too long, letting their fingers brush together. Once they'd tugged it as tight as it would go, James moved to the stern.

"Regulus, where's the rudder?"

Regulus turned away from the mainsail. "It's right—well, shit, it's not there."

"I'll be right back." James headed for the supply closet, grinning privately as he thought of the look on Regulus' face when he turned up with his tea. It was as if James was the first person to ever really pay attention. It's a shame, James thought. There's so much to pay attention to. The constellations of freckles that dotted his nose, the way he got lost in his own head when he listened to music, his hands—

"Oof!" said a voice in a familiar Irish accent, shaking James out of his reverie. Peter Pettigrew's cheeks were rosy and sunkissed, and he'd grown out his straw-coloured hair a bit while he studied Latin in Italy, working at a dig site in his spare time. He'd taken a gap year before university, so he was the same age as James and Sirius, but a year behind them in classes. They'd all lived in the same college and become a trio.

"Peter! Bloody hell, I didn't even know you were back! What happened to Rome?" James' face split into a grin, clapping his friend on the back.

"I managed to get away for a weekend. I couldn't miss the big race, could I? The first regatta without the dream team, bloody hell." There was a question behind Peter's casual conversation, one that told James he could be completely honest. That was the thing he liked most about Peter; he made you feel like you could trust him completely.

"Yeah, it was a bit of a nasty shock when Sirius called me, but their brother's alright. A bit formal, but nothing I can't charm him out of," James joked.

"C'mon James, what happened?" Peter pushed.

The lighthearted grin left James' face. "I haven't even told Sirius yet. They're going to lose their shit."

Peter's warm smile barely changed. "I remember you telling me the same thing back at uni when you got off with Benjy Fenwick before you knew about Sirius' massive crush on him. Strangely, I remember you both getting over it."

"You're a wise man, Peter," James said, tapping Peter's temple.

"Yes, I know. Now tell me what's going on before I die of anticipation."

James took a deep breath. "The blighter kissed me."

Peter's jaw just about hit the floor. "He—what? Regulus Black, the kid so reclusive we hadn't met until this week, kissed you? Did you want to?"

James shifted uncomfortably. "I wasn't thinking it, but then he kissed me and it—everything made sense, sort of. You know. It clicked."

"And now you can't stop thinking about it, can you?" Peter asked.