#jdfhskj sorry

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic august 28 - injury - 1.6k words - cw: gun violence, blood, shot wound aka hitmen AU aka homoromantic wound caring <3

Regulus throws them behind the battered outside of the building with a shout, presses James against the wall with his body weight while he leans back around the edge to fire off two more precise shots hitting their opponents right in the chest both times. They go down immediately. 

See, Regulus is no amature.

As opposed to James who’d barged right into the middle of his mission without having any business in it apart from the fact that he’s clearly jealous and not handling the fact well that Regulus is leading their kill score. 

He’d jumped in from the roof uninvited, fallen to the ground controlled looking like a fucking death angel in his skin tight hitmen get-up and started taking out people left and right while Regulus had had everything under control and then proceeded to get himself shot. Serves him fucking right honestly. Regulus should have left him there to bleed out slowly and painfully.

He should have.

He didn’t.

Instead Regulus had cursed as he’d seen James stumble and clutch his side, manic grin and hubris blown right out of him. Stupid fucking idiot.

It was easy enough taking out the rest of the lot, not so when James had started looking so distractingly ashy in the face, like he was about to fall over and not get back up again.

Right now Regulus twists back to James’ heavy body and maneuvers him to sit on the dirty ground, taking in the shallow breathing and twist of his annoyingly gorgeous face.

James winces, eyes squeezing together as Regulus goes to straddle his lap and pull up his shirt. 

The injury looks bad. Blood trickling out around the reddened shot wound. Fuck, the bullet’s still in.

James keens when Regulus manhandles both of James’ hands over it with one of Regulus’ to put pressure on it. He sounds pitiful and Regulus nearly feels bad for him so bites out a, “Fuck you.”

That makes him feel marginally better and also James wheeze out a breath that could have been a chuckle under more optimal circumstances so Regulus takes his win as he rumages for his cell in his pocket. Dials Sirius’ number and is met with screaming and sirens in the background that mirror the ones he hears from father away from his current position as soon as his brother picks up.

“The fuck were you thinking?”

Regulus jaw drops a bit at the audacity, “Me? Fuck you, I should let James bleed out on the spot for that sentence alon—”

“James? Regulus, what’s going on?”

“He’s gone and crashed the fucking mission, is what’s going on! Fucking show-off—” he enunciates by pressing harder into James’ stomach, making his stupid brown baby cow eyes bulge behind his glasses, “—always gotta be the center of fucking attention.”

“Regulus—”

“What, haven’t already gotten enough from all of your beloved, loyal friends? From my brother? From the never-ending string of pathetic whores panting after y—”

“Regulus,” Sirius growls again through the static of the phone, “Why is James bleeding?”

Regulus sniffs primly as he glares down at James fluttering eyelashes. He feels very warm and sturdy under Regulus’ spread legs, “’cause he’s a sad excuse of a hitman. You don’t just wake up one day and decide to become an assassin,” James’ lips twitch into an exhausted grin, “You’re born with that sort of talent, obviously. You can only all too clearly see for yourself what happens,” Regulus shifts and presses down on the shot wound again, watching in satisfaction as James tips his head back with a groan, “—when you try to play in the big league when you’re nothing but a doped up street rat.”

James licks at the sheen of sweat building on his top lip and manages to rasp, “Love it when you talk dirty to me.”

A frustrated groan rips from Regulus’ throat as Sirius’ voice comes through the speaker again, “Reg, why is James bleeding?”

James’ eyes unfocus a bit over Regulus’ shoulder and he feels his stomach do something weirdly unpleasant, “Got himself shot trying to play hero. Bullet’s still in.”

“Shit, fuck,” Regulus can almost see Sirius run a hand through his hair in distress, “Okay- okay fuck, text me your locations. I’ll send a distraction team and have Marlene and Pete pick you up, as soon as possible.”

“Yeah,” Regulus watches as James’ eyes flutter in exhaustion, “Make it quick.”

He purposefully wiggles in James’ lap to jostle him while he shoots Sirius the text with his location, “C’mon James, no sleeping.”

James grunts dismissively, head lolling weakly against the filthy brick, hair an awful mess and Regulus feels him let off the pressure over the injury wound.

“Fuck,” Regulus puts his phone away quickly and threads his fingers into the wild strands at James’ nape and clenches.

“Ngh,” James’ eyes shoot open and he fixes Regulus with a sharp squint. That’s better. “Am I not in enough pain already, Reg?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, ignoring the relief, “Don’t be a baby.”

“‘Don’t be a—’ excuse me, have you ever been shot?”

Well, no, but, “That’s completely irrelevant right now.”

“Literally how?”

“Stop coming off topic.”

“You’re the one coming off t—” James tapers off into a groan, cramping into himself in pain. 

Regulus feels his brows knit in worry and he absently scrapes his nails against James’ skull in a soothing motion while he shushes him and curses quietly.

James pants as he squirms uncomfortably in place, then blinks up at Regulus again, “Y’know whenever I’ve thought about you in my lap it was always a more pleasant kind of pain I’ve counted on.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, warmth pooling in his gut. But James is still lucid and talking so Regulus indulges him, “Yeah, what kind instead?”

James hums tiredly, “Well, for one I get weirdly turned on whenever you’re playing with those little daggers of yours.”

The corner of Regulus’ mouth drags up. He nods encouragingly.

James swallows with visible difficulty, voice strained when he goes on, “There was that one time we had a rope seminar.”

Regulus remembers that James had knocked over his open water bottle when Regulus had been timed on preparing a friction hitch knot. He’d thought him the biggest fool on the planet. Not that this has changed much over the months.

“You’re always so mean,” James’ eyes glaze over, smiling to himself, “You don’t even need a weapon, your words cut deep enough on their own mos’times…”

His eyeslids sink shut again as his mouth falls pliant and his hold over the injury slackens. Not good.

“Come on, James, you love talking about yourself, go on,” Regulus licks his lips nervously, keeping the pressure over their hands.

James sighs, “’m tired, Reg.”

Regulus tries yanking at his roots again but James won’t do anything but make little pained noises, body untensing under Regulus.

“Fuck, James,” Regulus taps him against the cheek. Shit, what is he supposed to do?

Shock value, Sirius voice reverberates through his muddled thoughts. Do something they won’t expect, abruptly. Whatever it takes to keep them awake.

Regulus sucks in an unsteady breath and then angles James’ head up and pulls him into a kiss.

He feels the hitch of breath rather than he hears it, sucked in right against the burning skin of his cheek and then James lets out a noise.

Breathes in the air coming out of Regulus’ mouth and tips his chin back into the kiss with renewed vigor. They gasp into each others’ mouths as they continue the press of wet lips and weak nudges of tongue while Regulus tries to stay at least half-focused on holding the pressure over the bullet hole in James’ abdomen. 

He’s a fucking assassin for god’s sake and this might be the most insane thing he’s ever done.

Regulus’ whole body goes stock still, James’ breath ragged on his face, when suddenly a familiar, teasing voice comes from behind, shit-eating grin evident in her voice, “Well, that I’ve certainly never seen in a first aid handbook.”

“Yeah, y’know what Marls,” Peter snickers childishly, “Seems like Regulus got it from here, James looks pretty vitalized to me again.”

“Mmh,” James nudges his nose against Regulus’ as he slurs, “All the medicine I need right here.”

Regulus levels him with a flat stare, “Blood loss has made you delirious.”

They get James up and onto the cot in the back of the van where Peter has already set up his medical tools.

Before Regulus has the chance to step out James makes an unhappy noise that has him turning back, “Ride back to the cove with me?”

“Not a fucking chance, Potter,” Regulus hops out of the vehicle and turns with his hand on the back door, “My bike’s still on the other end of the street, I wouldn’t leave her if Sirius’ life was on the line.”

Peter snorts as he readies the antiseptic and James honest to god pouts. Regulus can see the blood slick injury gaping from where he’s standing. Ridiculous man.

“I’ll see you in the medical wing,” Regulus replies for whatever reason and before the lighting up of James’ eyes can do anything pathetic as elicit warm shudders along Regulus’ spine he slams the door shut and pivots on the spot to head for his bike.

Regulus dutifully visits James in his hospital bed that evening.

They both get whacked over the head when Peter has to redo James’ stitches not five hours later.