So Uh. This Happened. Headcanon About Sirius Wearing James’ Oversized Quidditch Jersey That Has ‘POTTER’

so uh. this happened. headcanon about sirius wearing james’ oversized quidditch jersey that has ‘POTTER’ on the back and being entirely too alluring for his own good.

x

“Alright, James, this can’t go on anymore,” Sirius said, voice firm, arms crossed across his chest. James blinked, eyes dragging up from where they’d been fixed on his collarbones, unusually exposed in the large jersey, to focus on furrowed brows and suspicious grey eyes.

“What can’t go on anymore?”

“This—whatever’s going on with you!” Sirius threw one arm out in emphasis. “You’ve been acting off the entire day, do you realise?”

James tilted his head in question, silently asking for him to elaborate. He knew he’s been…a little distracted, but it couldn’t have been so much as to call for this intervention, surely?

“James!” Sirius says, exasperated and really, that’s one too many times he’s called him by his full name. He can’t even remember the last time Sirius did that. “You crashed into a wall twice, tripped over Mrs. Norris’ tail and had to hide inside a suit of armor to avoid her claws—then you fell over in the damn thing and got a bump the size of an ostrich egg on your head. Five seconds ago, you almost plummeted off the staircase to your death and now you’ve been somewhere Not Here the entire time I’ve been talking. Seriously, what gives?”

Okay, maybe, put it that way, it sounded quite bad but James didn’t intend to be so scatter brained! He was having a perfectly decent time, had his head screwed on straight and then Sirius had to go and mess all that up! He was not prepared for the sight of him walking out of the shower, a cloud of steam escaping behind him. His hair was half wet and pulled back, cheeks flushed red from the heat and most importantly, he was wearing James’ Quidditch Jersey.

The one that was at least two sizes bigger than Sirius’ usual clothes. And the one that, when his best mate turned around, had POTTER emblazoned in huge letters across the shoulders. James had just stood there, jaw slack and fingers clenched around his tie, taking in the sight. He knew what his jersey looked like, had worn it hundreds of times, but he never knew it could be like this.

And that had just been the beginning. It seemed like with every passing hour, Sirius looked better in the damn thing than before which—shouldn’t be possible considering how extremely good he looked in the first place. Seriously, if James wasn’t as…confident as he was, he would’ve definitely gotten a complex by now. As it was, Wormtail always looked a bit peaky around Sirius. Just before their first class, Sirius’ had dried into his usual perfect curls, loose strands framing his face. By the time second rolled around, the jersey had slipped off one shoulder, exposing sharp collarbones. James didn’t even know bones could look so- so obscene but here he was, proven entirely wrong. Right after lunch, Sirius had gotten frustrated with how much the fabric was flapping and had casually used his hair tie to knot it in the back.

This led to two things. First, his hair was now free to tumble around his face, leaving James with the strongest urge to run his hands through it, or perhaps even tuck strands behind one ear. He only avoided doing so by pressing his fingernails into his palms to the point of pain. The second, more maddening, one was that now, it wasn’t just his unnervingly attractive shoulder but also his waist that was on tantalising display. Every time he stretched, or raised his hand in class, or ran a hand through his hair—the jersey would ride up until Sirius’ pale skin peeked through and honestly, was it really a wonder that James almost walked off the moving staircases the first time he got a glimpse of that happening?

The entire day was an exercise in making him lose his mind, he was certain. Somewhere, he had pissed off a deity and they wanted him to suffer because there was no other explanation for this. James had never been one to feel possessive. In fact, he loved sharing everything he had with the people around him. Their joy was his joy and all that. Hell, Sirius and him had been wearing each other’s clothes since first year when Sirius hadn’t had anything except uncomfortably formal robes for Christmas morning, which was an atrocity because everyone knew you wore ugly sweaters on the day so he’d given his to Sirius and DIY’d one for himself. Of course, as James started playing Quidditch and bulked up harder and faster than anyone could’ve predicted, it had decreased until the only things they really shared were robes and ties.

But seeing his name on Sirius? Plastered across his body, marking him as James’? He just knew, right there and then, that he could never go back. Now that he’d felt what it was like, that burning heat deep in his gut, the dizzying feeling of seeing Sirius look so…delicate—there was no way he couldn’t crave more of it. In his head, James had already started making plans for now he could, inconspicuously, get Sirius in his jersey more often. Because it absolutely had to happen again, James hasn’t had anywhere near enough of the sight.

“Jamie? James!” A hand waved in front of him, ripping him away from his pleasant daydreams of seeing Sirius in nothing but his jersey. His face flamed red, not even realising the direction his thoughts had travelled in until he blinked and saw Sirius standing in front of him, looking bemused and dressed perfectly respectably (James was once again trying very hard to ignore the skin visible just above his waistband)

“Er—sorry,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Went away for a second there.”

“That’s exactly what I mean! You’ve been drifting away quite a bit today.”

“It’s not—Seriously, nothing’s wrong—“

“I never said it was,” Sirius said, shrewdly, making James immediately choke on his words as he tried to backtrack.

“No—That’s not…I mean—“ James’ teeth snapped shut with an incriminating ‘clack’ as Sirius steps closer to him, toed shoes touching at the tips. Close enough that they were breathing the same air, for James to see the shades of grey in Sirius’ eyes. Close enough that he could feel the movement of Sirius’ chest as he breathed deeply.

“Si?” he croaks, throat too dry all of a sudden.

“Won’t you tell me what happened, James?” Sirius’ voice was soft, pitched low and James had to strain his ears to hear him properly. He gulped unsteadily, eyes tracking the way Sirius tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip, leaving a maddening shine behind.

“Si,” he said, again, tone matching Sirius’. One of his hands had, without his permission, travelled to the gap between his jersey and the top of his trousers he’d been eyeing for the better part of the day. It was featherlight, barely even a touch, really, but the way Sirius shuddered when his hand made contact with warm skin was entirely too much for James’ already fraying self control. His fingers twitched, hard, in an attempt to stop but in the next second, they’d wrapped themselves entirely around the body in his arms. James’ forearm was pressed tight against Sirius’ back, their noses were mere inches away, and Sirius’ eyes were more than halfway shut.

James took a deep breath himself and let his hand press imprints into the curve of Sirius’ waist. The only response he got was the feeling of Sirius’ forehead pressing into his shoulder, arms wrapping around him in return.

It was then that James let his own shoulders unclench, let himself relax like he hadn’t the whole day. A soft smile lifted his lips as he thought about where to go from here

“You’ll wear this for me again, won’t you, darling?” he asked, pressing the question into Sirius’ dark curls with a kiss. He didn’t get a reply but that’s okay—he didn’t need one. Sirius’ hitched breath was enough of an answer for him.