"Fuck, you talk so much." Fond though the words were, he was pretty sure he meant them. Even if they weren't true. Strictly speaking, Regulus didn't talk much at all, but he always seemed to do the most of his talking when James would much rather that he be doing something else. But things could be ironic and true at the same time. Totally.
And James did want him to be doing something else. Because he knew, he knew that he was just a little nudge away from making Regulus's breath hitch. And the mere idea made that awful feeling in his stomach seem a little duller-- replaced it with something warm and familiar, but not the least bit boring. This feeling, he knew all too well. And that Regulus tried to tell him to stop only cinched the deja-vu.
It was like some stupid, reckless drug for his system. 'Don't do this.' 'Follow these rules.' 'Blindly obey and don't think about what you want.' It was positively nourishing to just completely disregard them. And when he was already drunk, it was just off the bleeding deep end-- and yet, his feet somehow felt a bit steadier. Somehow his hands had gotten around to sort of framing Regulus's face, though the one thumb pulled another swipe at Regulus's lip.
"I'm sorry," he breathed. He'd meant to expand on that, but somewhere in between trying to say it again and drawing up his proper height, his mouth just went gently crashing into Regulus's, kissing at the healing split in Regulus's lip. Or at least, that's how it started. It progressed with him catching Regulus's lips with his own, his arms winding around the other to hedge in Regulus's likely inevitable instinct to pull away at first.
The notion that he talked too much was utterly ridiculous coming from James. Regulus was quite certain that James talked all the sodding time. He was the one that could never shut up. But arguing that point at this particular moment was completely pointless. Because, he knew, somehow, at the moment, who actually talked the most was somewhat beyond the point.
Regulus had absolutely no idea how James' hands had gotten around his face. They were so incredibly familiar, each callous. There was a bit of sand on them, but, for once, Regulus barely even noticed. He was far too caught up in looking up at James. Everything seemed to hang tangibly between them and Regulus was terribly aware of the fact that he was waiting too long to pull away from James. The apology surprised him. He didn't know exactly what it was for, but it didn't seem to be in James' nature to actually apology for anything ever.
Before Regulus could sort it out, James' mouth was against his. He went completely still in James' arms, seemingly unable to react, because he remembered this all too clear and at the same time, it seemed like it had all happened lifetimes ago. He tried to pull away. He raised one hand up to meet James' chest, but he was soundly pinned against the other. The idiot. Regulus knew that he had to have planned that particular move out.
"Your wife, James," Regulus mumbled into his mouth, aware that that was going to bring the whole thing to an end all over again. Regulus tried to convince himself that it was better that way.