Qui peut dire?

“Sirius.” Despite the whiteboard with his name scrawled next to 11:00, Remus still managed to sound pleasantly surprised. “Hi, how are you?”

“Fine.”

God, he sounded like an asshole. Remus’ smile didn’t falter. “Glad to hear it. Come on in, take a seat wherever.”

Was this it? The first test? Sirius glanced between the chair by Remus’ desk and the exam table. Hell, maybe he was supposed to sit on the stool. Was he? Was that a ‘Remus spot’ everyone else was smart enough to not even consider?

He picked the chair. Lowered himself gingerly to the cushioned seat, crutches propped on the armrest next to him. A spot on his ankle itched under the Velcro of his stiff boot.

“Thanks for making the time today,” Remus continued, as if Sirius had been any sort of friendly or welcoming. “I really appreciate it. This’ll be quick and easy—just a check-in, figuring out what’s going on and where we want to be. Sound okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Sick.” Remus dug around behind his desk for a moment; Sirius could hear papers riffling. Remus’ brow furrowed for a second before relaxing with satisfaction as he pulled a sheet free. “Alright. Sirius Black, meet your new best friend.”

Sirius blinked. “You?”

“Ha! No, I think Pots still has me beat,” Remus laughed, sliding a clipboard across the desk. He pulled his own chair around as well, even though Sirius could see him fold his knees out of the way of the desk. It couldn’t be comfortable. “I don’t like sitting back there when you guys are in here,” Remus said, as if he could read Sirius’ mind. The side of his nose scrunched. “Feels…bossy? I dunno. Can’t really write upside-down, either.”

“Ah. Ouais.”

“But that’s—” Remus waved a vague hand and picked a pen from the broken-handled mug tucked by his computer. “It’s not important. This, on the other hand, is your two-week chart. Decorate it, marry it, I don’t care. As long as you know it’s yours and can find it in that—” He pointed to a wire bin by the door. “—box. Capische?”

Sirius shrugged one shoulder and readjusted his ankle under the table. “Sure.”

“Shweet. There are some forms under the top sheet, if you can fill those out for me real quick.”

Remus stood as Sirius bent his head to write; he puttered in Sirius’ periphery, collecting tape and bandages and a handful of other things from the drawers lining the walls before moving to the exam table behind him. Something spritzed, filling the air with the faint scent of lemon. When he glanced back, Remus was wiping down the exam table with a washcloth.

The table. Of course. He should’ve known. “Do you want me to move?”

“You can if you like.” A lopsided smile found him over Remus’ shoulder. “I’m just cleaning, though. Take your time.”

Feels like I’m taking nothing but time, he thought with no small amount of bitterness. At least Remus meant well. Arthur kept telling him he could have all the recovery time he needed, but Sirius could tell he was getting impatient. He hadn’t even been allowed to think about physical therapy before the six-week mark was up. On some teams, that was long enough to justify rumors of a trade.

Ink smeared under the side of his hand. Sirius cursed under his breath and licked his thumb to smudge it off, but only succeeded in blurring it more. He gave up and scribbled it out, leaving the check mark next to the box instead. Remus’ handwriting was at the top of the page. Sirius Black, printed with a gentle slant to the right. Numbers looped, their tails snagging into one another. Sirius had never met someone who wrote their ‘2’s that way.

“Done?”

He jumped.

“Ope, sorry,” Remus half-laughed as he rolled behind his desk again. The wheels of his chair squeaked. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Sirius shook his head. “You’re fine. And ouais, here.”

“Thanks.” Remus flipped through the clipboard with easy neutrality. Sirius had expected him to take this a little more…well, seriously. “Looks good. Like I said before, today is just getting the boring stuff out of the way. Forms, building your exercise plan, making sure you don’t run screaming from the room.”

Sirius frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“Hopefully, you won’t.” Remus gave him a look—a joke, he realized a second too late.

“Oh—yes, no, not at all.” Great recovery. It took everything he had not to roll his eyes at himself.

Again, Remus seemed unaffected by his awkwardness. Did he just not see it? Did he think Sirius was playing along? But Remus was always like that, with every one of them. Unflappable and infallible. The world was smooth and calm for him, like a lake on a windless day in the dead of summer. He was wearing a shirt of the same blue-gray as the pond in the park by Sirius’ house.

“How’s your ankle feeling today?”

Get out of your head. “It’s…fine.”

The side of Remus’ mouth pulled up. “Gotta give me something to work with here, Cap.”

“A little sore?”

The light caught his sandy hair as he tipped his head back and forth. “Sore how?”

“Just…” Sirius shrugged. “Sore. Like normal.”

“Stabby? Dull? Lightning-y? Can you feel your heartbeat in it?”

“Um.” The cool air of the PT room siphoned into the small gaps of his boot when he wiggled his toes. “Mostly dull. Sharper when I take the cast off.”

Remus nodded. “You haven’t been putting weight on it?”

“Non.”

“Good. That sounds about right for this point of recovery. Is it an ‘all the time’ kind of pain, or just when you do certain things?”

This was a lot more talking than Sirius had anticipated. He had assumed Remus would sit him on the exam table, poke around, and then send him off with some ice packs and stretches. More time, he said when Sirius had imagined it. You just have to give it another week or two, and you’ll be fine. A hopeful part of him figured they’d let him back on the ice as soon as the bone was healed.

“It’s sore a lot,” Sirius admitted. “The dull kind. It gets worse when I move around, I guess.”

“Even with crutches?”

“Ouais.”

“Do you sleep with it on?”

“…my crutches?”

“The boot,” Remus snorted, though it wasn’t mean. He was rocking slightly in his chair, back and forth. Sirius could see the armrests turn with each light push of his foot behind the desk. The tense thing in his belly eased. If Remus was this casual, maybe he was allowed to take some deeper breaths.

“They gave me a different one for the night,” he said. “It’s softer.”

“Are you more of a back sleeper, side sleeper…?” Remus trailed off, gaze darting across Sirius’ face, and gave a sheepish grin. “That sounds super invasive, wow, sorry. I promise I’m just trying to figure out if you’re sleeping on it weird.”

Sirius tried to school his expression. He didn’t want to know what face he had been making at Remus’ question—they knew each other well enough to not fix him with a media glare. “Uh, my back,” he answered. “Usually. The doctors said to put it up on a pillow until it healed.”

“Cool, cool, sounds good.” Remus nodded again, then drummed his hands on his thighs. “Alright. Those are all the questions I have. Any on your end? Concerns, preferences…?”

How fast can you get me out there? Something told him Remus wouldn’t have an answer he’d like. “No, I’m good.”

Remus had a dimple on his left cheek. It made a divot with his small smile. “Great. Ready to hop on the table so I can take a look?”

It took a moment for Sirius to get to his feet; he reached for his crutches, only to find Remus already holding them steady for him. He hobble-hopped the five or so feet from the desk to the exam table; six and a half weeks in, and the crutches still did their best to stymie him at every turn. Horrible fucking things. His underarms were rubbed raw after fifteen minutes. Clunky and awkward and—

“Hold on.”

Sirius paused.

Remus was frowning at his leg. “Those don’t look right.”

“Quoi?”

“You’re…what, six-three?”

“About.”

“Sit, sit.” Remus ushered him to the edge of the table, but took the crutches as soon as Sirius perched himself on the cushions. He pressed a small button near the base; aluminum squeaked as the foot shortened by a few notches. “That’s better,” Remus muttered, almost to himself. “These pads are all worn out, too. Did they give you towels?”

What the fuck? “Uh, no?”

A disgruntled exhale made Remus’ nostrils flare. He leaned the crutches against the wall with a similarly irritated tilt to his mouth. “Remind me to give you some before you go, or the tops are going to wear the hell out of your armpits. I reset the height, too. They were two inches too tall.”

“Oh,” Sirius said helpfully.

“It’s not, like, a huge deal or anything, but it’s uncomfortable.” Remus cocked his head. He regarding Sirius with a critical, but not harsh, eye. “Has your back been hurting?”

Sirius shifted in his seat. “…yes.”

“That’s probably from the height issue.” Remus’ nose twitched with clear displeasure. A pen turned between his fingers, glimmering in the pale light. Sirius hadn’t noticed the bandaid on his knuckle before. The pen stilled with a sigh, then vanished into Remus’ pocket. “Sorry, I just—Moody and I have been trying to get the guys to come in here sooner, because of shit like this. Crutches at the wrong height, no towels, not knowing you’re allowed to wash braces. You’re already uncomfortable, you know? No need to make it worse.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, god, it’s not your fault,” Remus said immediately, pumping hand sanitizer into his palm. “Just sucks that we have to ask permission. It’s not like we’re going to do anything stupid while bones are still healing.”

Sirius swung his legs up on the table while Remus rolled a stool across the speckled linoleum; his ankle twinged, but he managed to keep his wince light.

It was no use. “What was that?”

“Hmm?”

“Face.” Remus pointed at him, arching a brow. “You’re in my rink now, bud. You made a face. You can either lie about it, or get out of here on time.”

Perhaps Sirius had been a bit overconfident in how well he could hide pain. “Just sore when I lift it.”

“Where?”

“Uh. My ankle.”

“Right, I—” Remus broke off with a short laugh. “Sorry. Is there pain in other places when you lift it?”

He let Remus wave him further onto the table before answering. “I can feel it in my calf and foot. A little into my knee.”

The plastic was sticky from cleaning solution, but the cushions were perfectly firm on his lower back. He let his head rest back against the wall with a slow breath and wiggled his toes again. It was nice, being able to do that without lancing pain. Remus tapped his thumb against the edge of the table a few times before moving to stand by Sirius’ feet. “Can I take your shoe off, or do you want to?”

“Oh. Um…” He sat up further, but his fingers just barely brushed the hem of his pants. With a grind of his back teeth and a quick flash of pain, he bent his opposite knee and pulled the shoelace free. His ankle began throbbing faintly as he nudged the shoe off—sock too, thanks—and a puff of air slipped out when he finally leaned back.

Remus was watching him with a sad sort of wariness. “Can I make a request?”

You could ask me to do literally anything. “Yeah, sure.”

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

If he didn’t look so sympathetic, Sirius would have bristled. “What?”

“That—” Remus gestured at him. “Looked painful as fuck. This is an anti-pain establishment. If you think something’s going to hurt, we’ll work around it. No judgement.”

The thing was, Sirius hadn’t actually done this before. He knew where the ice packs were kept, and that the big steel container in the corner held heat pads in boiling water. He knew where the support bandages were, where Remus kept extra stick tape, and that the set of small drawers next to the desk would each be labeled with the name of a teammate so they could find specific gear. Remus had given him stretches for his sore back and arms and legs and whatever, but this—the shoes, the touching, the gentleness—there was no rulebook. No captain’s log to rattle through when he needed guidance.

“Okay,” he finally said. “That’s cool.”

“Cool.” Remus gave him that half-smile again. “Can I take your boot off?”

“Ouais.”

Remus was a lot nicer to the Velcro than he was. The rip was quieter than Sirius thought it could be, peeled off by practiced hands. He felt the pressure on his skin release immediately and took a breath at the tender feeling. Not pain, but something close. It made his heart spike every time. “Hurting?”

“Non.”

“You sure?”

“Just—makes me nervous.”

“Makes sense,” Remus agreed. “You’ve had it all wrapped up. Feels safer in there, right?”

Right. Exactly right. Something tightened in the center of his chest. “Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”

Remus nodded. “Is it okay if I take it the rest of the way off? I can do most of the exam like this if that’s better.”

“You’re asking me a lot of questions.” He tried to sound wry. He wasn’t sure it came out that way.

“Lot of people don’t like touching,” Remus answered easily. He hadn’t moved to touch the boot again, hands flat to the maroon plastic covering the table. “I’d rather you tell me to step off now than make something hurt more.” He gave Sirius an apologetic sort of grin. “Plus, you’re probably sick of people grabbing at you. Don’t really want to be one of them.”

Sirius was sick of it. Hands and fingers and grasping through slivers in plexiglass while he was trying to move, goddamnit, when he just wanted to go back down the tunnel and finally be able to catch his breath. People grabbing him on the ice, pushing. Snape’s body against his own—a shoulder in his sternum. Fingers digging into his skin. A tight grip on the back of his neck.

“You can take it off.”

Remus had a crooked canine tooth. Had he noticed that before? “Thanks.”

Sirius’ fists clenched at the touch of warm hands on his heel and calf. It was…fucking strange, but not painful. Not unpleasant, either. Remus had calluses in the bends of his knuckles and on his palm when he carefully transferred Sirius’ foot to one hand and set the boot up by his hip.

“I’m sweaty,” he blurted. “Sorry.”

Embarrassment flooded him before Remus laughed. “Dude, you have no idea how nasty your boys are when they roll up here. Did you know I had to send a reminder to shower before seeing me? And to wear clean clothes?”

Sirius wrinkled his nose. “Ugh.”

“They don’t cut their toenails, either.” Remus’ eyes flicked up to his face, bright and teasing. “I’m not telling you who, but if you can throw a little captain-y weight around…”

“I’ll try.” It almost came out a laugh. Surprise tingled in his lungs. “But seriously, you don’t need me. They listen to you like gospel.”

“Oh, please.”

“They do,” he insisted. Remus rolled his eyes. “Non, non, I’m serious—”

“Yes, I know.”

“—fuck off—you could tell them to brush their teeth four times a day and they’d be at it. They listen to you more than me.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Remus informed him. “And I also think you’re healing really well.”

“I—what?” Sirius looked down; his ankle was back on the cushion, cradled lightly between Remus’ palms. It jolted something in him. Had his skin always been that pale? He could see the line where the boot ended halfway up his calf. His foot looked ghostly in the light and everything else looked…thin. Skin and muscle, even bone.

He propped himself up on the heels of his hands. The angry, puckered scar from surgery had faded to a narrow line. When had that happened? Surely not overnight. It had looked so ugly in the shower yesterday, which was exactly why he tended to avoid looking at it. He glanced up at Remus’ patient face. Was he grossed out? That wasn’t how Sirius’ ankle was supposed to look. The knobbly bones on either side were practically gray in comparison; they stuck out, as if someone had stuck two marbles under his skin. His stomach turned.

“Sirius?”

He hummed.

“You okay?”

The joking tone had gone from Remus’ voice. The pit of Sirius’ stomach was heavy. His ankle looked weak; his calf, skinny all the way to the weird lump of his knee. “Mhm.”

“We can be done.” Slight movement caught his attention as Remus ducked to catch his eye. There was the solemnity he had expected. It was odd to see it now. “Any time. Just say the word.”

“The exam?”

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do.” Firmness had never sounded so kind. “These first steps are visual, anyway.”

Am I done? Sirius looked back at his foot, the strangeness of it, the sickly mirror of his healthy one. “Keep going.”

“Are you—”

“I’m okay.” He mustered a deep breath. “I’m good. Keep going.”

“Okay,” Remus said quietly.

They sat in relative silence, but it wasn’t bad. Sirius was glad for a break. It was easier to watch Remus work than hold a conversation. The tenderness faded somewhat under the gentle touches of Remus’ fingertips—a tap here and there, faint pressure in the soft spots. Murmurs of feeling alright? and tell me if this hurts filled the buzzing static in Sirius’ ears.

“Ow.”

“Here?” Remus’ first two fingers hovered at the arch of his foot. Sirius nodded. “Cool, thanks. Your swelling isn’t too bad. I think I’m going to hold off on big exercises until Monday, okay?”

Disappointment, bitter and tacky as molasses. “Yeah.” He couldn’t keep the sigh out of his voice.

“We’ll get there.” When he remained silent, Remus poked the peak of his kneecap. “Hey. We’ll get there, I promise. I want you to work on the rest of your flexibility this week. Keep the boot on, but stretch out your legs and back. Your other muscles have been compensating for this and I don’t want anything to get strained.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to do everything I can to get you back on the ice.” Sirius could hear the but in his voice before he even finished speaking. “But I won’t rush through this and throw you out there just to get hurt again.”

Hurt again. Pain, cold and consuming, flashed in his memory. “Okay.”

“If anyone gives you shit, I want you to throw me under the bus, alright?” The last strap of Velcro fell into place. Remus was even careful with that part. The pressure on his skin was familiar and welcome. He felt a light pat to the table. “Tell them it’s all my fault. That I’m being overcautious and mean and keeping you here, whatever. If the coaches have a problem with your care, they can talk to me and Moody about it. Not you.”

“Okay.”

Remus let him get up unhindered. That was nice. Sirius was pretty sure he’d lose his mind at one more helping hand. He waddled back to the desk chair at an incline of Remus’ chin and was once again relegated to watching while Remus taped some small, folded towels to the tops of his crutches before joining him by the desk.

“You did great.”

Wasn’t that a thing to imagine. Could barely get my shoe off, but alright. “Merci.”

“It’s hard to get people to come in here and actually want to get better.” Remus scribbled a few things on the chart. His forehead crinkled in the middle with concentration. “Lotta guys think they’re fine as soon as the doctors’ visits end. But this is the part that’ll make a difference in the long run.”

The chart slid across the table, followed by a smaller, far more sparkly sheet. A smile pulled at Sirius’ mouth in spite of himself. “Gold stars?”

“Very serious stamps of completion, actually.” The corners of Remus’ mouth were tight with restrained amusement. He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his eyes. “You can pick a different theme if you want. Talkie’s got Lisa Frank, which was kind of a power move.”

Sirius snorted—it was over from there. It took a minute for them to collect themselves, and as much as he hated to admit it, he did feel better after peeling a star from the sheet and sticking it in the first box. “Regarde,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Success.”

“Perfect.” Laughter still lingered in Remus’ voice. It was a nice sound. It was nicer when he looked up and smiled, like Sirius had put one of those heating pads right in the valley of his ribs. “Alright, well, that’s all I need. We can do the same time tomorrow, or you can check out the schedule. We technically have office hours, but you can shoot me a text if we need to find a different one. Number’s on the board. Make sure you give your name in the first message.”

“Okay.” Those ‘2’s again, in green marker this time. That weird feeling in his chest was softening. “Yeah, okay. I think tomorrow works for me.”

“Awesome, see you then.”

“Awesome.” Why can’t I talk? Sirius stood and took his crutches back with a slight stumble. He hoped it passed off as broken-ankle unsteadiness, not—whatever else was going on. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when the tops didn’t immediately begin to chafe his inner arms. “Oh, wow, thanks. This is great.”

“Yeah?” He could hear Remus’ smile before he even turned. He looked pleased, fiddling with the edge of Sirius’ chart. “I’m glad. Sucks to not have what you need, and not even know it.”

“Lucky we’ve got you then, eh?”

Remus’ cheeks flushed. It was rather warm in the room. “Nah. I’m the lucky one. Best job in the world.”

“Got you beat, there.”

Another laugh made Sirius’ chest squeeze pleasantly. It was good to see Remus happy, with all he did for them. “Guess you do,” Remus admitted, then shooed at him with the chart. “Get outta here, your boys are waiting. And check the box by the door for this when you come in tomorrow, got it?”

“Très bien, Loops.”

It was early in the morning, the gondola would be just starting up. They planned their visits to touristy places for the least busy time of day. A good half hour had been spent signing autographs at the Calgary airport when they arrived a few days ago. Canadians knew their hockey players, especially ones who would certainly be on the next Canadian Olympic hockey team. Neither of them minded , per se, but also if they could blend in, well they’d rather prefer that option. 

Typical outdoorsy MEC outfits like every other tourist were their outfits, with a pretty generic blue ball cap for Sirius, and Remus had chosen a fashionable flat brim hat after Sirius had gone silent and staring when Remus had tried it on in the store.  While any claim they had to disguise was low, their main hope was that most of the people who rode a gondola on a Thursday morning wouldn’t also be hockey fans. Banff had been great so far, busy streets of tourists to blend into while eating elephant ears, a hike yesterday to lakes the most fucking amazing color of turquoise where everyone nodded their head and said hello as they passed on the trail, and today they were heading up the gondola. It was a warm July day and Remus knew heat would start to gather soon, but it felt so fresh here in the mountains, always a breeze, really it was nearly idyllic. Even here, in a busy parking lot, dozens of cars already and pavement for hundreds of meters, it still somehow felt rustic. That was the influence of the towering rough mountains he supposed. They were everywhere here, he had never been in the mountains like this. He squeezed Sirius’ hand as they walked, his head turning to take it all in. 

“The view doesn’t get old, eh,” Sirius laughed as he took in Remus’ wide eyes. 

“Literally never. There’s just mountains everywhere .”

“And here we go, up another one,” Sirius said. 

“Can’t wait,” Remus said, squeezing Sirius’ hand with excitement again, taking in the grey of Sirius’ eyes and comparing it to the grey of the mountains. The mountains were undeniably majestic, but that blue grey gaze was still his overall first place favourite.

Remus scanned the tickets on his phone for the agent with the usual “bonjour, hello” passed between them and joined the small line of people waiting to board the gondolas. They wound through the roped off area, back and forth across the loading area as the line moved, reading the information placards as they went. Remus challenged himself to read the French versions and asked Sirius for help with some words, just to hear him say them, to see Sirius’ eyes smile when he heard Remus say the words back as best he could. They passed the time in the line quickly like this, passing words in French back and forth to each other quietly, almost like bubbles of love being traded between them, like emotional kisses, like whatever the sounds are that are in my mouth, they always mean I love you. 

Remus vaguely knew from the corners of his attention that the people who worked for the Park were working with the line, fitting groups together into gondolas in the most space efficient way, calling for single riders to come join groups of 3, putting two couples together, keeping kids with their parents. There was a large family ahead of them and Sirius and Remus had been half-hearing conversations about snacks and who would sit by who and where’s my water bottle and dad, what if we see a bear ?? So when the attendant called, ‘next group of two? Un groupe de deux?’ looks travelled down the family and passed like dominos to Sirius and Remus. 

“On est deux,” Sirius said, knowing everyone who worked for the Park spoke at least some French, and he was loving using it at every opportunity.

“Allez, on y va,” the attendant said, waving them over. Sirius and Remus kept their hands clasped as they snuck past the big family, Remus murmured an, “ope, sorry,” as they made their way to the front of the line. They boarded the open gondola, sitting down on one side together as the doors slid closed and the gondola started moving.

Remus was just starting to look out the floor to ceiling window, seeing the expanse of nature below them, all around them once they were past the loading area of the building, when he heard,

“Sirius Black?? ”

Oh shit. They were on a gondola with a fan. Well, hopefully a fan, god, imagine if it was someone who wanted to lecture them for the whole 8 minute ride. Sirius would give them his stony cold game face, and inevitably the person would back down, but it would be so awkward.

But Sirius hadn’t said anything. He was just staring, mouth slightly open. Time passed in frozen silence, enough time that Remus darted his eyes back and forth, from Sirius’ frozen form, to the two girls sitting across from them. One had a ball cap on with a dark ponytail floating out the back of it and her tank top showed clearly well developed biceps and deltoids, hiking shorts and shoes. She  was nearly as slack jawed as Sirius. The other girl was much more fashionable, in pants that were somehow loose but still fitted, and a cropped shirt (sports bra? what did Remus know about women’s fashion), clean white runners, long curly blond hair pulled into a messy half bun. It was still Banff and hiking appropriate except everything about her outfit and hair seemed to be on purpose in a way that none of the rest of them could claim. She seemed to be trying to read the situation as much as Remus was, and after long seconds she was the one to break the silence. 

“Rebecca? You know him?” 

The other girl, Rebecca? Almost literally shook herself out of her surprise and laughed, a smile coming over her face. 

“Oh my god, what are the fucking chances? Yeah, well, I mean, Sirius and I, well, yeah, we’ve met.”

Remus felt his eyebrows raise at her faltering tone and he looked to Sirius who didn’t seem ready to say words of any language yet. So Remus spoke first. 

“Oh, well hello. I’m Remus. It’s nice to meet you,” and he put his hand out to Rebecca to shake. She smiled more, her eyes taking him in and she took his hand. 

“Hi Remus, I’m Rebecca. Nice to meet you. This is my girlfriend Claire,” she said, gesturing at the well dressed girl. “We’re just touring the area, on vacation, I guess you must be too. It is the offseason I guess? I can’t believe we’re on the same gondola as you, what even is this.”

Remus felt himself relax, girlfriend, ok so they weren’t in for an 8 minute lecture. That was something at least. He turned to Claire and shook her hand too. His eyes travelled up and down her tattooed arms, all thin lines and curling shapes. He especially noticed a beautiful one of a star surrounded by a circle on the inside of her elbow, but the whole thing was made of flowers and vines in light colours.

“Nice to meet you too Claire. Are y’all hockey fans then?” he asked, glancing repeatedly at Sirius, who was still seemingly frozen. He pressed his palm against Sirius’ thigh, hoping to ground him with touch. Feeling more than a little bit like he needed that too.

Claire laughed, a high, bright sound. 

“No, I can’t say I am. Is that how you know him, sweetheart?” Claire asked her girlfriend. 

“I, um, well yeah, kind of. We met at a media weekend where they were doing stories on a bunch of athletes for a magazine,” Rebecca explained, her gaze bounced between Sirius, Remus, her girlfriend, back to Sirius.

Remus nodded. Well that made sense. What didn’t make sense was that Sirius hadn’t said a single fucking word. He turned toward him, angling his body towards his husband so he could mouth as much as say, ‘ça va, baby?’ 

Sirius started bobbing his head. Remus saw him take two purposeful breaths, close his eyes for a long moment, and then open them again with his media smile on.

“Désolé, sorry, sorry Rebeccca. You just surprised me,” he took off his hat, ran his hands through his hair and replaced the hat. “Wow, yeah, it’s good to see you. Like you said, what are the chances?” 

“What media thing was it that you did?” Remus asked lightly, hoping to soften whatever the fuck this atmosphere was. 

“That one in New York that Pots and I went to? During your third season with the team, I think?” Sirius said. He looked deep into Remus’ eyes and took and squeezed his hand. Remus didn’t know why Sirius needed comfort, but he clearly did. So he scooted as close to Sirius as he could on the bench, held his hand, and tried to send comfort like osmosis. It seemed Sirius may have received the offering because he seemed to relax a degree or two. 

“Rebecca was on the olympic rugby team that got a medal at that olympics a few years ago,” Sirius supplied, gesturing to her. “Or maybe you still play?”

“Yeah, I do actually!” she replied. “I’m not a starter anymore, but I still have one more Olympics in me. The team has been doing so awesome, it’s been such an sweet ride.”

“Oh wow, that's amazing!” Remus said, meaning it, and hoping to take the conversation in safer territory. “Are you on a break from training right now? Being a tourist for a bit?”

“Yeah! It’s so beautiful out here. And it’s nice to have time to take in the sights. We travel for matches all the time, but it’s never very long in one place. We played a match near here last season, and it was so beautiful I knew I needed to bring Claire back here.” She smiled at her girlfriend and took her hand. 

“So you’re a hockey player?” Claire asked Sirius. He smiled a small smile and nodded, maybe started to say more while gripping Remus’ hand, but Claire continued, “that’s nice, but you two obviously slept together, right?” she said, gesturing between Rebecca and Sirius.

Rebecca just laughed, Sirius’ mouth dropped open, and Remus startled like he’d been shocked.

“That’s what this weird vibe is?!” he asked Sirius, half laughing, half horrified. “Oh my god, well, I get it now.”

Sirius dropped his head into both his hands, shaking his head, and then his shoulders were shaking, until his whole body was quivering with laughter. 

“Mon dieu, sorry, Rebecca… Re, I’m sorry.” Laughter bubbled out of him.  “I don’t know why I locked up, I got thrown back in time there for a minute, in my head. I’m ok now, sorry. Rebecca, it really is good to see you, I just was so surprised.”

Remus just shook his head. He’d be pretty shocked in the same situation too. The air already felt clearer, Sirius’ laughter had dissipated most of the awkwardness. 

“So you’re bi too then?” Rebecca asked. “Or pan maybe? I saw you two in the news of course, oh god I didn’t mean to bring that up, I just mean, obviously you’re married now! Congratulations,” she seemed to force herself to stop talking and Remus laughed. 

“Yeah, we got married last summer, it was amazing.”

Sirius smiled at him, the smile they always had when they thought about the lake house and their friends and family and the perfect haze of happy memories that surrounded that day. Sirius took a deep breath and turned to Rebecca.

“Yeah! But, um, no. Uh, I’m actually gay. That’s probably why I froze up there for a minute. But if you’re queer too that makes me feel a lot better, I think I panicked for a second that there would be flirting? Sorry, sorry.” he said, looking back and forth between both Rebecca and Claire.

Claire laughed, “Oh there could still be flirting, I’m afraid. You’re just her type in guys. I’m gay too, but my sweetheart here had a later in life bi awakening, much to my benefit.” She got closer and closer to Rebecca’s neck as she said this, and ended with a soft kiss to her jaw. Rebecca smiled a soft smile at her girlfriend, but then turned to Sirius, more serious. 

“Wow, so, um, that night must have been hard for you then? I feel like I should apologise. I think I kissed you first that night.”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders like his shirt was too tight, and Remus studied his reaction, taking his hand in both of his now, and drew circles in Sirius’ palm with his thumb. Sirius rubbed the back of his head with his other hand before answering. 

“No, please don’t apologise. You couldn’t know, I didn’t know. Well I knew, but I didn’t know . It’s not like you were the only girl I was with. I thought I just had to meet the right girl. And actually you helped with that, because you were so amazing. Beautiful, and fun to be around, and athletic and funny. And it was still… fine.” Rebecca laughed and faked hitting her heart with her fist like a stab. “No, I don’t mean it was bad! It was fine! Shit I keep saying fine… it was…” Sirius trailed off, looking to Remus, clearly now developing an aversion to the word fine. 

“Sirius, Sirius, it’s ok. I get it. The comphet comes for us all, doesn’t it?” Rebecca said. She started off half laughing, but her voice was full of authenticity by the end of her sentence. 

Remus kept running his thumb over Sirius’ palm in soothing circles, and Claire lifted her arm up to trace the edge of the window, and then put it around Rebecca’s shoulders, hugging her close. 

In the moment of silence that followed, the gondola slowly swung to stop. They all looked around, looking down at the magnificent view really for the first time since they got on the thing. 

“Huh, they must be stopping it to help someone on or off, I guess,” Remus said. A shiver had come over him as they swung to a stop, but it passed. The others nodded in acknowledgment as they swayed gently. 

“You were my last,” Sirius said into the silence. “My last time with … with a woman.” Remus raised his eyebrows at Sirius. “Well, I kissed other girls after that, only in public, but I knew after that night with you that I wanted to be with guys. Even if I didn’t let myself actually do that for a long time yet, at least I knew.” He paused. “Sorry,” he said again.

Rebecca laughed. “Honestly Black, it really is ok, stop apologising. I’m a little surprised, for sure, because for me it was really good. Like, really good. Like I-never-found-a-guy-as-good-again good, despite giving it an honest try. Had to fully just move onto women, good. So I might be questioning my perception of reality a little bit over here, but you don’t have anything to apologise for.” 

Remus was processing, hardly believing the turn this gondola ride had taken, but had to smile at that.

“He is pretty good, isn’t he?” Remus said, gazing up at Sirius with mischief in his eyes. “From our very first time, he knew what he was doing. Fuckin knocked my socks off,” Remus laughed. Rebecca joined him and Sirius buried his head in his hands again.

“Right?! His hands –”

“God, tell me about it. And his back?”

“Divine,” Rebecca sighed, tone half teasing and half serious. “And just his size, you know, when he’s on top, fully covering you?”

Remus faked a swoon, back of his hand to his forehead. “It’s amazing. Might be my favourite place in the world to be.” Sirius sat up and smacked Remus’ shoulder. “Re! Stop it,” he laughed.

“Did you get to experience his mouth?” Remus asked, leaning forwards to Rebecca. “Or how his eyes get so intense it’s like they glow?”

“Remus!”

Rebecca sighed dramatically. “I didn’t experience his mouth unfortunately. And I think he must be the only man in history to have turned down a blow job! It was mostly hands and some lovely dirty talk and … well, you know.”

“Oh the French dirty talk,'' Remus fawned, fanning himself with his hand, smiling evilly at Sirius. “It’s so hot.”

Rebecca faked a dramatic gasp. “Is this why you wanted me on my hands and knees??” she asked, gesturing dramatically to Remus. “So you could pretend I was him!?” The words might be accusatory, but the tone was pure glee. “Did you know him then?” she asked Remus. 

Sirius moaned into his hands and ground out what might have sounded like kill me now. 

“I just knew him as the hockey obsessed, tough as nails, never an emotion to be seen hockey captain back then. And I saw him make out with multiple girls at bars after that, so he clearly wasn’t ready for me yet back then,” Remus teased. 

Claire and Rebecca both nodded. “We all have to make our journeys of self discovery in our own time, don’t we,” Claire said. 

“That we do,” Remus said, letting the last of his laughter bubble out of him. They all took in a minute of happy silence, admiring the view. Even Sirius cautiously poked an eye out of the safety of his hands and looked past Remus to see towering snow capped mountains which they were almost eye level with up this high, this ground was really quite far away. Deep green trees transitioned into bright green grass in places, the buildings of the town looked like dots from here, and the fluffy white clouds seemed much closer than he had ever experienced before. 

The peace of the mountains seemed to sweep into the softly swinging gondola and Rebecca turned back to Sirius, still snuggled into Claire’s side. 

“I am sorry though, that society or whatever made you think you had to sleep with me. I’m sorry if I played a part in that,” she said. 

Sirius wasn’t frozen like the snow tipped mountains now, he tried to let his words flow like the breeze instead.

“I appreciate that, Rebecca, I do. But I could’ve said no, and I knew that. I went upstairs with you because I thought I should want to, but I was so deep in the shoulds, that in a roundabout way I did want to. And I’m honestly so glad you thought it was good, that’s like all I cared about.” “I never would’ve known you weren’t into it Sirius, really, it was good.” Sirius rolled his head on his neck, looking sheepish but happy. 

“It’s not that I didn’t think it was good. It did feel good, you’re amazing. I just was also really busy, in my mind. My thoughts were just going in bad circles with pressure and doing the right thing and what you might tell your friends and what I’d tell my teammates … so of course it was harder for me to just enjoy it. But like I said, you were the last time I did that, so I’m also really thankful for that, and for you. If you couldn’t be the right one, I knew there was no point in trying anymore.” He switched his gaze to Remus and his grin turned dopey, “until this one told me he was gay, and that I’d be worth it.”

Remus squeezed his hand. “You are worth it. Every day.” 

“If I may,” Claire said, “it sounds to me like you’re both right. You’re right, my love, to feel a bit weird about learning the guy you slept with doesn’t actually like sleeping with women. But it’s also ok that you still enjoyed it, because you’re always allowed to have your own version of a situation, based solely on your own experience of it. And he was actively trying to have you enjoy it, for different reasons than you thought. There’s no way you could have known his every inner thought.” Rebecca smiled and rested her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder. 

“And you Sirius,” she continued, “it could be interpreted as misleading to have gone upstairs with her, but Rebecca and I, as women who love women, know the strength and seeping nature of comphet, as I’m sure you do too, as a man in a traditional masculine field. It gets into your bones and bosses you around and ties your thoughts up in knots. I’m really glad you freed yourself from expectations to let yourself live. I can tell the two of you are really good together,” she smiled. 

Remus nodded his head along with her and kept drawing calming circles with his thumb around Sirius’ palm. 

“Merci, Claire,” Sirius smiled, “and for what it’s worth, Rebecca, I’m sorry for putting you in that situation.”

“Forgiven, Sirius Black. And thank you for ruining me for other men, so that I could find this goddess,” she leaned up to kiss Claire on the lips, deep and sensual. Sirius thought that looked like a really great idea, and leaned in to Remus. 

“Ça va bien, baby?” Remus repeated, their lips close, breathing each other in and out. He had been pressed up against Sirius’ side this whole conversation, clutching his hand. And now they blocked out the mountains, the uncomfortable seat, the shining sun, and only focused in on each other. 

“Oui. Je vais bien. Etonné. But … also good. Glad to have you, like always.”

“I’ll never be anywhere else, mon mari,” Remus murmured as he leaned in to kiss Sirius. Lost in their kiss, they didn’t notice that Rebecca and Claire were watching them with soft smiles on their faces, Rebecca’s head still against Claire’s shoulder. Claire twirled her hand around and then threaded her fingers through Rebecca’s ponytail, smiling. 

The gondola started moving again, startling Sirius and Remus apart with a smile. They squeezed each other’s hands with a shiver, they both had goosebumps from a brief chill. They all rode the last few minutes how they all had thought their whole ride would go. They pointed out the tallest trees, saw shapes in the clouds, basked in the chance to be so high up and see the world from such a different perspective. Funny how that makes a difference for so many things. 

They all saw the loading area approach, and stayed quiet while they slowed to a stop and the doors opened. They filed out into the visitors center. When they rounded the corner and were away from most other people, Rebecca folded herself into Sirius for a hug, squeezing him, her cheek pressed into his chest. He rested the side of his head against her and held her for a long moment. 

“Despite the shock, it really was good to see you, Sirius. And super good to get to clear the air with you about our night together. I, selfishly, hope you don’t regret it, but it’s ok if you do. I’m still happy to know you. Maybe you can actually text me back now that there’s no big secret swirling over you, eh?” she swatted him in the stomach at the last, and he dodged with an oof and a laugh. 

“Rebecca, honestly, I’m really glad to have run into you like this. Sorry if I was weird. I don’t regret it, how can I, when it was a stop on the path to me finding my husband?”

Rebecca turned and gave Remus a hug too. “Sorry for having your husband before you,” she teased. Remus huffed a laugh, and hugged her back. 

“Good to meet you Rebecca. I’ll forgive you, I suppose .” he joked. “Since I’m the one he’s going home with, I can’t complain.”

“Nope, you have absolutely nothing to complain about, I would know,” Rebecca teased as she took Claire’s hand again. “And I have this goddess now anyways. Bye, guys, take care!” she said as they started to turn away down the boardwalk.

“Enjoy your vacation!” Claire said with a wave, and Remus and Sirius waved as well, standing with their arms around each other’s backs. When they were a good way down the boardwalk Sirius turned and collapsed into Remus’ arms. They stood there amidst the beauty of the mountains. Tourists walked past and around them, taking pictures. They stood long enough for clouds to form and reform shapes, until Sirius could huff out a laugh. “What the actual fuck are the chances.”

“Of you stepping into a 6 foot square enclosed space with the last woman you had sex with? Really, really, really low I’d imagine. Even if we changed the odds to include all the women in general who have seen you naked, the number still has to be…” Remus trailed off as Sirius stood up and pushed him away, grumbling and laughing. 

“Stop teasing me, mon loup, this was traumatising ,” Sirius pouted. 

“Oh baby, I know, I know, come here,” Remus laughed, and gathered Sirius in tight for one more hug. “Let’s look around? And then we can walk down? So we don’t accidentally get trapped with the next least likely person in the fucking world? I can’t quite imagine who that could be at this point, but we’re probably safer on a hiking trail.”

“Let’s get trapped with your college boyfriend, and I’ll make comments about your mouth, tabarnak , that was embarrassing,” Sirius laughed under his breath as he turned to take in the view. 

“I was trying to cut the tension!”

“I’ll cut your tension,” Sirius muttered back.

Leo's childhood home was warm around this time of year. Warm in the way the incandescent bulbs threw a soft glow across rooms (The LEDS just aren't the same Le), warm from the coastal breeze fluttering through windows, but mostly warm because of preheating ovens. 

His mother had gone all out again this year. Every year since Leo could hold a wooden spoon, Eloise Knut had him mixing cookie dough. The only difference this year was the amount of bakers. 

Finn and Leo bobbed amongst a sea of cookie trays covering kitchen counters. Finn was in the ugliest Christmas sweater one could find, and Logan kept making little disgusted faces every time the blinking Santa Claus on said sweater broke into another verse of Jingle Bells. Though, Lohan did have flour on his face that Finn had yet to mention, so, payback. 

His mother hummed along to the radio as she tossed even more ingredients into the Kitchen Aid. It all felt familiar to Leo; it was home after all, but he couldn't shake a small desire in the back of his mind for snowfall behind the New York City skyline and Canadian cabins up to their eaves in snow. It was an adjustment, to say the least, not a bad one, just one he hadn't been expecting. 

"What's going on in that head of yours, Pumpkin?"

Leo snapped his head up from where he had been staring intently at a sheet of dough rolled out on the counter. 

"It's warm." 

"It is not! It's fifty degrees out; got out my thick socks for today." 

Leo gave his mother a cheeky look. 

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that," Finn said. He was on oven duty and strictly oven duty. Logan was allowed to touch the dough under supervision. He was currently attempting to cut little gingerbread men that looked like the three of them. It was cute. It made something settle right behind Leo's sternum. 

"Oh, like you have anything to talk about." Logan poked Finn in the chest with a whisk. 

"I'll have you know, NYC winters–!" 

"So, it's warm." Leo turned back to Eloise as Finn and Logan devolved into increasingly nonsensical bickering. 

"Yeah. It's warm." 

Eloise gave him a look like she already had it all figured out. She probably did. 

"Oh, he's gone all northern on me already. Wistfully dreaming of a white Christmas in the New Orleans sun. The best I have is confetti pumpkin; hope it's enough." 

Leo laughed, and his mother smiled. He was seven years old again, stealing chocolate chips off the counter, laughing when he got caught, his mother laughing too.

They settled into a bout of comfortable silence after that. Something was still niggling at the back of Leo's mind, though. 

"It's just…" 

Eloise looked up, now rolling out her famous peppermint mocha cookie dough. 

"Yes?" 

"This is home." 

"Yes." 

"This has always been my home." 

"...Yes." 

"It's not like it doesn't feel like home this time. It's just that…" 

Eloise looked at him and smiled that knowing smile. 

"What?" 

Eloise shrugged. "Didn't say anything." 

"You're up to something." 

"I am! I'm making cookies!" 

"Mama."

Eloise chuckled. "You're in love, sweetheart." 

"...Okay? But-" 

"Oh, sugar, it's simple. Home isn't really a place. It's just love." She picked up a silver cookie cutter and started pressing out shapes. "So, in that way, New Orleans is home because it's where Dad and I's love for you lives." 

The radio across the kitchen slowly faded to the next song. 

I'll be home for Christmas…

"A home, by the way, that you will continue to visit periodically til the end of time. I'll create new holidays to celebrate if I have to-"

"Of course, I'll always come back, Mama." 

Eloise patted his cheek with a floury hand. "Anyways, but New Orleans isn't the only place where love for you lives anymore, is it?" She tilted her head towards where Logan was taking pictures of Finn attempting to balance spoons on his nose. 

"And the people that hold that love for you, bless their heart, love the cold and snow. And so, home now isn't just the New Orleans sun. It's a little colder." 

Leo could almost feel things finally slot into place in his mind. They had always been there, the strings that tugged his heart North, South, and East. He had always thought one direction would win out, but he was wrong. They enabled his heart to stretch farther across state lines and biomes, rivers and lakes, cities and farms. Home had just gotten bigger, stretching out its limbs, settling into the comfort of having more room to breathe. 

Leo held back a few wayward tears that threatened to well up.

"I miss thirty-degree weather," he said with shock and awe. 

Eloise shook her head. "Lord, help us." 

Leo laughed at the same time a telltale Ding! sounded from the oven. 

"The cookies!" Finn yelped before putting on comically large oven mitts and racing towards the oven. He took out a tray of sugar cookies and started to place them on the wire racks. Logan wandered over to where Leo was working and rested his head on Leo's shoulder. 

"What are we talking about?" 

"The cold." 

"Oh! We should absolutely ask Noelle if she'd be up to trade weeks for the family cabin next month. Maybe we could go ice fishing." 

Leo looked at his mother.

"Don't look at me, you picked him." 

Leo trembled with barely contained laughter.

"Quoi? It will be fun, Soleil, I promise." 

Finn walked over, making little Ah! Ooh! noises as he gently tossed a cookie back and forth between both hands. 

"Here, Le, taste. We need to know if it's Knapproved." 

Leo leaned forward and took a bite out of the same sugar cookie his mother had been baking since he could talk, but it tasted a little different this time. 

It still tasted like boat rides and summer heat, but it also tasted like peppermint tea and long drives. It tasted like sleepy mornings and playoff wins and bookshops. It tasted like something impossible. It tasted like the simplest thing on Earth. 

Even though Leo's love stretched across country borders, it somehow managed to all fit in that small kitchen then, tucked into the corners and squeaky cabinets. 

Now the Rangers had a high sticking penalty. Remus took his mouth guard out as the whistle blew and shoved it into his glove. Sirius was on the other side of the ice, on the tail of one of the referees and talking a mile a minute, gesturing to James and his bloody lip. There was a kid at the glass just behind him with a sign that said Nuts for Knutty! and he was still clutching the puck Leo had thrown him earlier. Remus almost wished the game would just pause for a moment so he could take it in properly. If this was to be the last game of his first season in the NHL, he wanted to remember it.

“Ouch,” Remus said to James as they circled close for the face-off.

“You bet,” James said, dabbing at his mouth.

Coach kept him on for the penalty kill. Sirius faced off against Zibanejad and Remus darted backwards when he won it. It had that game six feeling: All of them just wanting it to be over already, the slog of knowing that, if the Lions wanted it to go their way, they had one more full game stretch after this one to push through. Maybe more. Play-offs meant there was no over-time, and no shoot-out, just endless periods until someone gave in.

The puck was stuck in their zone and Thomas was beginning to look gassed. Kasey was up in the net, shifting with every ebb and flow of the Rangers’ passing. Remus poked the puck out from Kakko’s grasp and hoped it was clean—he’d nearly felt like he’d hooked it, but the whistle didn’t go. He managed to get it out of the zone and saw Thomas and Olli race off towards the bench gratefully.

He and Sirius didn’t say anything once they were seated next to each other, just caught their breath and watched. Pascal delivered a sound slap-shot, but it went just wide. Logan got the rebound, easy, and sent it to Fox. The horn went just before they put anything real together.

“D’accord,” Sirius said, tapping Remus’ thigh. “We’re not good, but we’re not bad.”

“What an endorsement.”

Remus handed off his gloves off to be dried as they walked down the tunnel. He could hear fans shouting their names as they passed by the glass that looked into the VIP lounge. There was a small girl standing there in a BLACK jersey. Remus watched as Sirius smiled down at her and touched his glove to the glass. The girl grinned and a woman who Remus thought must be her mother promptly burst into tears.

“Jesus.” Thomas laughed from behind him.

“Just me, actually,” Sirius said, and Thomas shoved him.

The locker room already had music playing so Remus guessed that Coach had decided to let them be, or perhaps Sirius had requested a players only break. Remus sat back in his stall and yanked his helmet off. He cut through the beat up tape of his stick with a short blade and sent a look towards Leo, who had a towel around his neck. He was leaned in close to Kasey, who was talking quietly to him.

“Kind of thought Coach was going to say something,” Thomas said. “Is Cap…”

“I didn’t hear him ask,” Remus said, but looked towards Sirius. He was glancing towards the door, too. It opened, and Remus expected Arthur or one of the assistants, but to his surprise, Alex O’Hara slipped through. He was in full gear, only a backwards hat replacing his helmet.

“Oh,” Remus breathed. He looked towards Kasey and Leo. Oh.

“What the hell,” Thomas said. He opened his mouth, obviously ready to shout something at Alex, but Remus put a hand on his thigh to stop him. Thomas looked over at him. “What?”

Kasey had already seen Alex and Remus watched his chest rise and fall in a quick, uneven breath. He put a hand on Leo’s knee, gave him a short smile, and then stood just as Alex reached him. Alex put a hand on his waist, but they said nothing. Kasey simply held his gaze for a long moment, and then turned to the room.

Oh.

“Hey, boys,” Kasey said, voice raised. “Boys, can I…” He’d taken some of his padding off, his hair pushed back from his face. “Can I talk for a second?”

It took everyone a moment to quiet down. They were a little surprised, maybe. Kasey wasn’t one to make speeches, even if it was a players only meeting, but he walked slowly to the center of the locker room.

“Sorry,” he smiled, but it was shaky. “I know we’re all focused on the W. I’ll be quick.”

“Don’t worry, Bliz. What’s up?” Sirius said, and Remus saw that his gray eyes were already somber. They darted to Remus’. If Remus had to guess, Kasey had asked Sirius to keep the room clear for him. Maybe even to have someone get Alex.

“Well. Thanks, Cap.” He looked around at them all. “Look, I know our season’s not over, boys, but I just wanted to say…God.” Kasey cleared his throat, looked down so his hair fell back into his face some. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Kase,” Alex said softly from just behind him.

Remus couldn’t describe how difficult it was, watching Kasey, Kasey of all people, get choked up. Watch him work to speak around tears. He watched some of the others realize what was probably about to happen. Thomas’ face fell. Leo stood, like he was going to go to Kasey.

“There, uh,” Kasey cleared his throat, tried for a smile. “There isn’t much I love more than you guys. Really. These years have just been the best of my life.”

“Bliz…” James breathed, took a step forward. The realization was slow around the room, but it was there. This had been in the air for so long that it felt strange to see it properly.

“Really, they have.” Kasey said. “I mean…God, lock me in this room, see if I put up a fight. I won’t. But. But it’s not good for me. I don’t want out of this game, I really don’t, I just—my body can’t do it anymore, boys. And I have to see that. I have to respect it.”

Remus put a hand to his chest. It was the strangest thing, he couldn’t remember ever having any sort of conversation like this one with his college teammates. Sometimes, he thought he had forced himself to forget moments from that time. Pushed them out of his mind. Now, he tried to remember. He tried to think of saying goodbye, or good game, or even being in the locker room with his sling. He couldn’t remember, but he wanted to help Kasey and so he tried. All that came was a blur of pain and dark rooms and a young, young Julian.

“I just…I have a feeling that…” Kasey wiped at his eyes. “Fuck. I know I shouldn’t have done this in the middle of a fucking—elimination game, oh my God.” It drew a small laugh out of most of the team. “You know, this isn’t gonna be our final game of the season, no fucking way, but it could be mine because it’s hard out there and—” His voice pitched up and he cleared his throat. “And I didn’t want it to happen, I didn’t want it to end, without everyone knowing, which is probably—maybe at one point in my life I would’ve called that selfish but I don’t think it is now.”

And then Leo was at his side, hand on his shoulder. He was crying, too, blue eyes vivid.

Kasey smiled and wrapped an arm around him. “And look whose fucking hands you’re in, all right? You’re good as golden.”

There was a heartbeat of silence. No one seemed to know what to say. Leo hugged Kasey, eyes closed and fisting the back of his jersey. Sirius walked forward next, and it seemed to break the spell.

“Don’t tempt me about locking you in here, Bliz,” Thomas said as he strode forward. “I just might do it.”

Kasey laughed as Thomas pulled him into a tight hug. He thumped Kasey on the back. “You going back out with us, right?”

“I want to,” Kasey said. “I think I can.”

“We’ll get this for you,” Sirius said. He put a hand on Kasey’s shoulder. “This is still yours, all of it. No matter what. You know that.”

Kasey looked at Sirius for a long moment. “Cap. Thank you. I don’t think my career would be the same without you.”

Sirius brow drew together and he shook his head. “Non. It’s all you, man.”

His eyes went behind Sirius. “And Dumo…” He pressed his lips together, unable to finish. “I…You’re…”

“Bliz,” Pascal smiled softly. “I’m probably not too far behind you in this case. I know that.”

Remus walked forward and put a hand on Sirius’ back.

“All I can say is that it’s an honor to play with you at our backs,” Pascal said.

Someone let out a whoop, and then they room was sort of clapping, sort of crying, and at least one strand of tension broke.

“I’m feeling a group hug,” Thomas said. “No, Cap, don’t pull that look on me. C’mon. Everyone, get your ass up.”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh, tearful as it was as he let Sirius wrap him up on one side, Thomas on the other. Timmy, Olli, Kota, Leo, Kris, Pascal.

There was a little jostle after a moment as a final person enthusiastically joined.

“Alex,” Pascal said without opening his eyes. “You should absolutely be here, but get your elimination game Ranger blue out of our hug.”

“My bad.”

~

Finn didn’t like being home alone. He didn’t like that he couldn’t watch the game. He didn’t like saying goodbye to Leo and Logan, knowing they weren’t going to the same place—or even if they were, to different teams. He wanted to be in the room. He wanted to play, he wanted the burn of his muscles. He wanted to press his shoulder up against Logan’s, or Alex’s, he wanted to defend Kasey and fight anything that even touched Leo.

Instead he was sitting on the couch with all the lights off and the shades down, listening to the crackle of the radio broadcast come from his computer with the screen turned away from him. He was waiting for period two to start, not in the tunnel to the ice, but when a a plate of what felt like the first truly solid food he’d eaten in weeks. Logan had given him a big kiss when he’d asked for Leo’s spicy chicken and rice burritos. Leo and hummed away happily in the kitchen making them and served him one with a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Okay, being taken care of wasn’t that hard.

His phone rang and he knew it was his mom without having to check.

“Hi,” he said around a mouthful, flipping the screen down towards the couch.

“Hi, baby. Just checking in. Fast game, huh? You doing okay? Eating dinner?”

“Mhm, I’m good. I mean—you know. As good as I can be. Listening.”

“Aw, sweetheart. I know.” He could hear the buzz of the stadium behind her, picked out Natalie’s laugh. “I know this isn’t how you pictured it at all.”

Finn sat back against the couch. “Yeah. Did you see Al?”

“For a second before the game. And Logan. He said that if we talk to you during the game to say he loves you.”

Finn smiled. “Mm. Good. How’s Leo looking on the bench?”

“Oh, they showed just the cutest shot of him like a little turtle—well, no a very tall turtle, with his mouth and nose in his jersey. But he seems good. Kasey seems good, too. He’s made some incredible saves.”

“They sound incredible,” Finn said. “Got your whiskey?”

She laughed. “Oh, you know it. Oh, baby, we’re starting. Gotta go, but I love you very much all right? Your dad, says so, too.”

“Love ya, bud!” came his dad’s voice from a little farther away.

Finn, honestly, felt a little choked up. He blinked the tears away and looked around the dim room. They would only make his head ache. “Love you guys, too.”

He heard the phone disconnect and rested his head back against the couch, suddenly not so hungry anymore. He wrapped his plate up for later and squinted an eye shut at the bright refrigerator light. He put the kettle on—could nothing be easy while using one hand?—and steeped some mint tea. When he came back to the couch, throwing a blanket over his legs, the commercials were over.

No, let’s be honest, if Kasey Winter hadn’t made those saves in the first—I don’t know where the Lions would be right now. Sitting in their dressing room and making fucking long summer plans, that’s for sure. Instead, this is a close game, a competitive game, and most importantly, both teams are still in the game.

I agree with you, Matt. Let’s go to the bench now, for an interview with Rangers’ Logan Tremblay.

“Oh, hi, baby,” Finn said softly.

Thanks, Matt. This is Cassie Baker here with Logan Tremblay—

Finn sat bolt upright. He knew—He knew that voice. Cassie. God. Cassie fucking Baker.

Logan, how do you think this period is going to shape up based on how aggressive that first period was so far?

“Holy fuck.” Finn couldn’t help but laugh. “Holy fuck?”

To Logan’s credit, he sounded just as shocked, as if he’d simply turned around and found Cassie there waiting for him. Cassie Baker. Finn remembered bouncing blonde curls and that god-damn Greek temple of the girl’s sorority house at school. Logan kissing her neck in the hallway. Harz, can we have the room for a bit? Coming back from a cancelled class and hearing—

Finn put a hand over his mouth and laughed again. “Okay. Oh man.”

I think we are two teams that want this badly, Logan was saying. Oh, he sounded so good. It’s going to be a fight, but hopefully entertaining for the fans.

How does it feel to possibly have the chance to eliminate your old team?

“Oh no,” Finn let himself fall sideways into the couch, right onto his shoulder. “Fuck.”

Logan’s laugh, disbelieving, still surprised, filled the room. Um. Intense.

Thanks for the time.

I—thanks.

Finn sat back up, holding his shoulder. Never had he ever wanted to talk to them more. He wanted to see Logan’s face. He wanted to see Leo with his chin tucked down against his chest. He didn’t want Leo sitting on the bench alone all game, watching the others work.

Zibanejad and Black on the face-off. The Rangers have a majority of these under their belts now, but Black wins in and it’s knocked back to Lupin. Remus Lupin, quite the surprise, the secret weapon, there are Olympic rumors, and Walker brings it right to the net—and scores! Oh, this game finally has some action!

“That makes one of us,” Finn said aloud to the room. He wasn’t sure he usually talked to himself this much. Maybe it was only that he couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d been alone. The hospital room, he guessed, but even that had been for mere minutes, not hours. He tugged the blanket farther up his chest and pressed his nose into his sweatshirt. Leo’s. He held his mug close to his face. The mint. Logan’s.

Dumais to Reyes, oh, in a near miss! It’s pitched out of the zone by Fox and picked up again by Goodrow—

Finn winced as the thought that he didn’t care who won the game filtered into his mind. He just wanted them to come home.

~

Luke caught onto Logan’s look the second he was sat back on the bench, breathing hard.

“What,” Luke said. “What the fuck’s that look?”

Logan wasn’t sure where to begin. He risked another glance towards the ice tunnel. Cassie was standing there with the cameraman. She looked the same. Her hair was a shiny dark blonde, blue eyes bright, forget-me-not. She carried herself the same. She was talking fast to the cameraman, directing him with her hand that wasn’t holding her microphone. Confident. Easy. She dressed differently. Smart, well-tailored navy suit that made her short frame look taller. Their eyes met, and she sent him another nervous smile.

“Fuck,” Logan said. He flashed a quick one back and turned away.

“What?” Luke asked.

Paul, Rangers PR, had said nothing more than, Tremblay, you’re ESPN’s interview and then Logan had looked up to find…

Hi, Logan. Yeah, probably should’ve warned you a little better… It’s been a while.

Luke punched him in the arm. “Logan.”

“Ex-girlfriend.” Logan swallowed.

“Girlfriend?” Alex asked, perking up. “You, girlfriend?”

“Ouais.”

“Oh my God, show me.”

“The ESPN reporter.” Luke and Alex both whipped their heads around and Logan closed his eyes. “Don’t look.”

Alex ignored him. “The blonde?”

“She’s cute,” Luke said.

“Stop looking.”

“Didn’t she just interview you?” Alex asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you know?”

“Obviously not,” Luke said. “Dude, you look fucking rattled, what did she do to you?”

Logan didn’t really want to think on it now. They had been good. Happy. For months, really. But she hadn’t had all of him, and she’d figured that much out quickly, if not who the rest of his heart was with.

“It’s more… It’s more what I did to her.” Logan shared a glance with Alex. “Or what I felt like I did to her.”

“Huh,” Luke said. “This is transcending bench talk.”

“Ooh,” Alex said. “Big word.”

“Fuck off.” Luke smiled a little, though. “Can you play with your ex-girlfriend watching, Tremzy?”

Logan hit Luke’s helmet with his stick. “Fuck off.”

Alex snorted as he pushed off the bench with Logan when Coach tapped their shoulders. “Are we gonna talk about the Leo Knut tendencies you seem to have always possessed?”

“Big word.” Logan shoved him so hard that he actually fell over, laughing all the way down. That was sure to be on Twitter somewhere later.

~

And Tremblay shoves O’Hara down. Laughing. Wonder what was so funny.

Finn sighed. “You and me both, bud.”

~

“Dev!”

Logan caught Luke’s back-pass and found himself trapped in the corner with Pascal, the puck between their two stick blades. Logan laughed a little, thought he heard Pascal do the same, but it was over too quickly to say anything. Logan knocked it out to Luke again who drew his stick right back and slammed it towards the goal. Kasey lunged for it, the odd, acute angle, but it went right under his glove.

“Yeah!” Logan put his hands up with a grin. He tried not to look at Pascal out of the corner of his eye.

He tapped his glove to Luke’s helmet when he skated into the celly, Percy slamming into their other side.

“Fucking finally, eh,” Percy shouted. He bumped his fist against Luke’s chest, then Logan’s. “Killer pass. Gorgeous.”

There was a buzzing in Logan’s ears. The crowd. Faces that were familiar but not from now. It was like someone had put a filter over his life and all the colors were different. His eyes found Leo on the bench. He was watching the replay on the big screen.

With ten minutes left in the second period, it did feel right that they had finally scored. Tied up, one-one. Logan skated to the bench and hauled himself over it, watching Panarin’s line go out.

He squirted water down the back of his neck and hit Luke’s thigh. “Good.”

“Yeah, well.” Luke wiped his visor clean with a towel. “Let’s just try and keep it up and end this round.”

Logan didn’t say anything. There was that feeling again. The one he couldn’t quite admit to himself. It was real once this round was over—or even realer than it was now. He wasn’t a Lion anymore. He was someone who ended the Lions’ season.

Panarin’s shot went wide twice and Trouba shot one over Kasey’s shoulder that got overturned for interference. Kasey stood with his back to the ice while the referees reviewed it. He had his helmet up and his water bottle in hand, but he didn’t drink. Logan knew Alex had gone into the Lions’ room. He knew what Kasey had announced. He wished he had been there. He wished he had known before Alex went so he could come. Kasey might not be on his team anymore, but he was still Kasey. He had wanted to stand next to Leo and hold his hand.

Six minutes left in the second. 1-1.

Logan jumped the boards right as the puck soared into the netting above the glass and the whistle went. Logan headed towards the Lions’ zone, but stopped when no one else did. He looked around.

“What’s up?” asked Will.

“I don’t know,” Logan said, frowning as Coach Arthur held up a T with his hands and Kasey started skating towards the bench. “They’re calling a time out.”

~

“Come on,” Finn said aloud to the dark room. “Come on.”

The more time went by, the more superstitious he seemed to get. He kept switching up his position on the couch. He’d even taken the computer into the kitchen while he finished his dinner, hoping they might have more luck if he was in a different room. He was putting his plate in the dishwasher when—

And looks like Leo Knut is taking Kasey Winter’s place in goal for the second game in a row.

Finn turned. “Le.”

Why the sudden switch, we’ll have to wait and see but one could only guess that it has something to do with Kasey Winter’s injury struggles this season. Well, recent seasons, I should say. I gotta feel for the guy, he’s one hell of a goalie.

Finn shut the dishwasher with a beep and cursed. As the final minutes of the second period wound down, he tried to picture Leo there. Wary of Logan. Trying to forget that it was Logan. Just number 71.

Tremblay with a high shot. Finn closed his eyes. —Goes wide of Knut. Kakko picks it up.

Finn listened to the third leaning against the kitchen island with his fingers against his lips. Waiting to hear Logan’s name, or Leo’s. LoganLeoLoganLeo, forced to go against each other.

Instead, it felt like all he heard was Remus’.

Lupin has had ten shots on goal alone in these last two periods. None of them have gone in mind you, but that fact is impressive and—oh that’s from Walker straight to Lupin’s tape and carrying, carrying, back to Walker, no look—and he scores! Remus Lupin with a five-hole on a beauty of a no looker from Thomas Walker! He brings it up to 2-1 Lions.

“Yeah!” Finn shouted, rising to his feet. “Fuck yes!”

He wanted to turn on the TV. He wanted to see. He wanted to watch them celebrate, he wanted to skate across the ice and hug Remus because he would have been on the line. He would have. He could have helped.

“Fucking sling,” Finn whispered, tugging at the elastic strap. Most of tea had long gone cold, and he wanted a popsicle to suck on and dull out the ache in his head a little. Or, really, he wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep but he couldn’t do that. Not before the game was through. It was only 9:30 for fuck sake. Though he did find himself wishing that it wouldn’t go to any OT periods. If he stayed standing he’d stay awake.

He paced to the window as the puck battled between zones. Logan was feisty tonight. He’d come close to blows with Kota twice it sounded like. The Rangers went up on a power play when Kota tripped Logan and Finn nearly cheered before remembering that it was the Rangers. Finn walked around the couch as the whistle blew for another Rangers icing. Whoever kept dumping was only doing the Lions a favor.

“C’mon,” Finn mumbled. “I’m tired and I miss you, c’mon.”

Logan on power play one. Logan, Alex. Back to Logan. Finn was too tense, he really wasn’t supposed to be this tense, he was supposed to be firmly relaxing. But Leo. God, Logan and Alex in front of Leo’s net, glove save against Alex, Logan’s shot going wide. Logan was pulling back, Finn could feel it. He was trying, trying, and then seeing Leo. And he was going to get so much shit for it. Finn sat down, rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He should have been praying for a win, but he was praying for this game to be over.

O’Hara to Tremblay, back to O’Hara—and he scores!

“Yeah!” Finn said then cursed. “I mean, no.” He groaned. He had to stop doing that. “Fuck.”

Alex O’Hara with a very clean tip-in off of an assist from Tremblay, Knut didn’t have a chance. 2-2 now this is a tight game and the scoring has picked up tremendously. The puck drops Jesus Christ, Lupin again! Christ almighty! Lupin again! Right off the face-off! 3-2 Lions!

“Loops!” Finn stood and laughed through the word. They were ahead now. God, the announcer was rambling, the pile up on the ice must be insane, celebrating. There was a short enough amount of time that this could be it, it could be, especially with the crowd the way it was, God, Finn could hear it, he could see it, even if he couldn’t. The pounding of hands on the glass and his teammates shouting right beside him. The way Thomas and Evgeni jumped up and down, making the bench rattle.

There was three minutes to go. They were ahead, and Logan was trying. God, Finn could feel him. The way he moved, the way he breathed. He’d spent his entire career watching him, waiting for him, tracking him even when he couldn’t see him. Catch a pass, catch a mistake. Finish a goal, pretty or dirty. Alex was trying his best but twice they’d gotten their pocket picked by Sirius and it made Finn hide a smile. No one could play with Logan as well as him.

It didn’t stop him from scoring though. Of course it didn’t.

That is one slick wrap-around by Tremblay.

Finn closed his eyes. He wanted that highlight. He wanted it bad.

Knut didn’t look like he even knew where the puck was.

Finn put his head in his hands. He could hear the celebration. “Le. Aw, baby, it’s okay, it’s okay…”

The Rangers even it up again with forty-six seconds on the clock. Oh, the Lions don’t like that. Arthur Weasley doesn’t like that, but he’s used his timeout. Gryffindor will have to figure something out.

“Come on,” Finn whispered. “Come on, boys…”

It was a blur of phrases and images playing behind his closed eyes.

God, impossible save by Knut! He’s gonna get famous for that poke-check of his, we saw it last play-offs, and look’s like we’ll be seeing more of it—

Finn wanted to be there to scoop the puck up from Leo’s waiting stick, clear of the blue paint. He wanted to feel Leo at his back, defending him, letting him risk a more risky pass.

The clock had to be dangerously low now and Finn’s head ached with how he was squeezing his eyes shut, but he couldn’t help it. He was so tired.

Knocked away by Knut, hard shot by Trouba—

“Good.” Finn whispered, thumb nail between his teeth. “Good, Le…”

What a take away by Black and he’s going—Lupin catches up with him and it’s two on one, Black and Lupin against Luke Deveaux—Black sends it over to Lupin, Lupin back to Black, and a third time—GOAL! Goal! Goal!

Finn shouted. There weren’t any words in it, but a sheer sound of relief and joy.

Lupin with the hat trick! Hat trick! With twelve seconds on the clock! Twelve seconds! Three goals all scored within—Jesus, how long?—that’s insane, that is just magnificent, insane—

~

Remus heard the crowd. Deep, collective—for a split second, he thought they were booing. But then he pieced it together, right as Sirius slammed into his chest and shouted right in his ear. Not boos.

Loops. 

~

My God, Remus Lupin is on fire tonight. God, what a shot! What a shot, this place is going wild. This place is on its feet because the Lions are going to a game seven. I repeat, the Gryffindor Lions are taking the New York Rangers to a game seven—

~

Long, drawn out, Loops and then reorganizing into a chant, and then dissolving into cheers. Hats showered them. Completely, it felt like. Raining, pouring, drenching the ice in hats. So many Remus wondered how all of them made it to the ice. He couldn’t stop laughing. He thought maybe he was crying a little.

“Game winner!” Thomas was shouting. “Game fucking winner, fucking winner, fucking natty hatty, oh fuck, Remus!”

“Jesus, what’s in your water, Lupin!” Percy Marshall shouted from near Saint’s goal.

He just looked up at Sirius. Sirius laughed and then ducked down and kissed Remus’ cheek—or tried, but it was really just their visors knocking together. “I love you. I love you, love you, I love you so much—”

“Julian,” Remus said. “You think Jules saw?”

Sirius just pressed their visors together, while Thomas all but crowed to the sky. “Yeah, baby, Jules saw.”

Remus looked up towards the Lions box as he skated towards the bench, as he skated down the line tapping gloves. He couldn’t see much, but he would have been able to pick out that wildly jumping figure any place, any time.

~

Logan went looking for Cassie. He wouldn’t deny it. He smoothed his wet hair back from his face and tugged at his tie. He smiled shakily at a few members of the press who passed him on their way to the pressroom to write their stories. Post-game interviews had been rough. You guys could have had it, what will you do differently to pull through next game?

It was a fairly normal question. Definitely expected. The hard part, Logan guessed, was answering it truthfully—even to himself. Pulling through meant taking the Lions out, and Logan couldn’t think about that too hard.

But even worse: You seemed to have…bad puck luck when Knut came into goal. What do you think happened?

Logan could have punched the guy who asked that. He’d stared at him hard enough to make him take a step back anyway.

“Tremzy!”

Logan turned fast. Katie, flying towards him full-force, in Rangers blue with TREMBLAY on her back. Pascal had sent him the video—Katie bawling her eyes out and refusing to move until the removed her father’s jersey and gave her a Tremblay one.

Pascal wasn’t too far behind her and grinned as Logan caught Katie up in his arms.

“Salut, Petit. Oh, what are you wearing?” Logan propped her on his hip and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Is that all for me?”

She patted his tie. “You didn’t win. Papa won.”

“C’est une tragédie, apparently,” Pascal said. “We cannot go home until she finds you, you know.”

“Non, me neither.” Logan smiled at him and tilted his and Katie’s heads together. He switched to French. “I need my little cabbage fix before dinner…”

Katie shrieked out a laugh, knowing what was coming, and Logan dipped her upside down to kiss her cheek with nom noises before bringing her upright again.

“Didn’t you like the Lions hat trick? All the hats on the ice.”

Katie shook her head, brandishing the wrist with her charm bracelet at him like a sword. “Non. I like when you get goals.”

“Ouch,” Pascal said wryly.

Katie put a hand on top of Logan’s head. “Is Harzy okay?”

“Ouais,” Logan said. “He’s doing much better. He misses you.”

“Where’s Leo?”

“I’m going to find him right now.”

She squished Logan’s cheeks between her small palms. “Does he have banana bread?”

“Not with him, I don’t think.”

Katie frowned. “Oh.” Then, she promptly squeezed her arms around his neck and put her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Aw,” Logan said. “I love you, too.”

Pascal mouthed, she’s going to fall asleep, and Logan nodded, half-sure that she already was. He put a hand on her back. She was so warm, so delicate in his arms. He used to be afraid of that, holding onto her too hard. “Past your bedtime, hm?”

They stood silently in the hallway together for a moment. Logan thought of the warm living room at the Dumais house. The boys muting their video game on the TV. Katie sleeping against his chest. Noelle passing him embroidery floss colors to pick out so she could make him a bracelet.

“I don’t think I’ll get used to seeing you in blue,” Pascal said softly, stroking back Katie’s hair, then, after a moment of hesitation, mussing Logan’s gently.

“Me neither,” Logan replied roughly. God, how many homes could one person be homesick for at once?

“No matter what happens next game,” Pascal said. “We love you. You know that, right?”

“Ouais.”

“You won’t beat yourself up.”

“Non.” He sighed. “Well, not too bad. I’m worried about Leo.” He sighed. He had to tell someone. “It’s been hard. This, Finn, Kasey…”

“Archer,” Pascal finished hesitantly.

“Logan?” said a voice.

Logan looked to see Cassie at the other end of the hallway. She gave him a small wave, looking uncertain as to whether she should approach or not.

“Ah,” Pascal said. “I thought you knew her.”

“Quoi.” He smiled back at her, held up a finger. One second.

“You looked, ah, how did Sirius put it…Freaked.”

“I’m not.”

“Here,” Pascal said, reaching out for Katie.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Logan began to say, but Pascal just arched a brow.

“You do not need to hold my daughter for every tough conversation you have.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but eased the sleepy Katie into her father’s arms.

“Go talk to a girl. That can’t be too difficult for you.”

“Dumo.”

Pascal just smiled. “Oh, and guess what?”

Logan sighed. His arms felt cold and too light without Katie in them. “What?”

“Leo is going to be okay. You three are going to be fine.”

Pascal touched Logan’s cheek briefly, then turned away, murmuring softly to Katie.

~

“Remus!”

Remus dropped everything he was holding—his glove, a roll of tape, a tennis ball, and his mouth guard—to turn around and get a stumble-inducing hug by his little brother.

“Did you get any of the hats!” Julian asked. “Oh my God!”

“I think they’re in a bunch of buckets somewhere,” Remus said, and held on tighter even when Jules made to pull back. “No, one more second.”

“I have to see Sirius, too!”

“He didn’t get a hat trick.” Remus squeezed Julian until he gasped for air.

“Death by hug,” Julian coughed out, but he squeezed Remus just as tightly back. “It was so cool, Re.”

“Thanks. It felt pretty cool.” He put his hands on Julian’s shoulders and pulled back. “I can get you a hat if you want a hat. Can’t promise to know whose head it was on, though.”

Julian laughed. “I don’t need a hat.” Remus still sort of wanted to get him a hat. He wanted to get Julian anything he could ever possibly want.

Julian shook Remus lightly by his shoulder pads. “Game seven! Did you always think you were going to go to a game seven!”

Remus shrugged, patting his stall for Julian to sit in. “I don’t know if Captain Superstitious over here would have allowed such a thought to cross my mind.”

“Wow,” Sirius said, stripping off his chest pads and grabbing his towel for a shower. “You make me sound insane.”

Julian and Remus shared a look.

“You might be a little.” Julian pinched his fingers. “Tiny bit insane.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but tussled Julian’s hair before walking away.

“Hey.” Remus nudged his his foot against Julian’s shin. “You okay here for a second if I shower so we can all get some ice cream before it’s after midnight?”

Julian’s eyes lit up—either at the mention of ice cream or at the prospect of being left to his own devices in the locker room.

“Oh, I’ve got him,” Thomas said. He was wearing his suit pants and shrugging on a white button down. “Noelle chose to go see the Rangers so I, too, am abandoned.”

“Oh my God,” Jackson said from beside him. “She said she’d be back in two minutes after seeing her loser brother.”

“Watch it,” Leo called, passing by.

“Two whole minutes.” Thomas tisked. “Nado, I don’t know what to do with myself without that girl around anymore. Copy?”

“Good luck,” Remus said to Julian, and stripped off his own padding to head to the showers.

James was singing—horribly—but Sirius had secured them the two corner showers. Remus’ favorite. The hot water felt good, but Sirius’ gaze on him felt better. Remus smiled as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back to wash his hair.

“I can feel you thinking,” Remus said.

“If we were alone, you could feel—”

“Oh I’m sure.”

“Well, I was thinking about taking you into another private corner but your little brother was looking at me.”

Remus reached for the shampoo. “This is true.” He looked over his shoulder. “I don’t see him anywhere now.”

Sirius sent a pointed look at James and the few other of their teammates showering around them.

“What?” Remus said with a grin. “I just want a kiss.”

Sirius watched him for a moment, and Remus let himself admire the way the water made his dark hair and eyelashes ever darker. The way the droplets made his tan skin shine. Finally, Sirius went so far as to settle a hand on Remus’ bare, wet hip, and kissed his cheek.

“I love you,” Sirius whispered against Remus’ skin.

“I love you, too.”

“The noodles!” Evgeni shouted, ducking beneath a shower head across the room.

“He means canoodle,” Jackson said.

Sirius ignored them. “I want to re-watch that game.”

“Is that all?”

“No. It’ll never be all with you. I’ll always want you more.” Another soft kiss to his temple. “And more, and more.”

~

“You fucker,” Alex said into his phone, wedged between his shoulder and ear as he tied his dress shoes.

“Ha-ha,” Finn replied. “It was all me.”

“Oh, we’ll get your boys next game.” Alex said.

“Will you now?” Finn said. “You sure about that?”

“Pretty damn sure, I’d say. Lupin can’t be that hot every night.”

“Ha, but Sirius Black can.”

“Bleh.” Alex straighten with a sigh. “I hate how true that is.”

“Hey, Al?”

Alex took his phone, switching ears. “Yup?”

There was a bit of a pause, long enough that Alex looked at the screen to make sure that Finn was still there. It made him nearly miss his first couple words.

“If you can,” Finn’s voice said. “Try not to let Lo take any winning shots against Leo.”

Alex’s smile dimmed. His eyes moved over to Kasey, who was leaning against the wall through the locker room doorway with Natalie, waiting for him. She said something with a smile and he nodded in his soft way, playing with the diamond ring on her finger.

“It’ll hurt them both, I think,” Finn finished softly. “Maybe ask Deveaux, too. If you can.”

“I don’t know if I can help that, Finn,” Alex said.

“I know.” Finn’s sigh crackled like wind. “I know. Yeah, I know.”

“Hey,” Alex said. “But I love you, little Fish.”

There was a beat of silence. “All right, I’ll let that slide just this once.”

Alex smiled.

“Love you, too.”

~

“Hi,” Cassie said.

Logan’s words got stuck for a second.

She had taken her suit jacket off and her white shirt underneath was crisp and clean. Logan remembered her in low tank-tops and knee-high boots. His Harvard sweatshirts and tiny cotton shorts, stretching in his bed and going to his window to check if it was raining. Yes, he had loved Finn for most of their time together, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t appreciated Cassie. She was kind and fun and, God, had she ever taught him what he liked. She had been a little wild like that. He had a flash of a steamed up car window, her uneven breathing against his cheek, her hand fisting the hair at the back of his neck.

“I…hi.”

She smiled, then shrugged and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hi.”

He laughed. “Hi.” She felt the same and he automatically squeezed her waist like he used to. “I—sorry about—I mean on the bench.” They pulled apart. “I was—I wasn’t expecting—”

“No, that’s so on me, I didn’t give you, like, any warning. This is kind of a new promotion for me. I mean, not kind of.” She rolled her eyes, laughing. “It is.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“Well—wow, I have to tell Finn.”

“Oh, Finn. I always adored him.”

“He’s good. Uh and, oh, Will and Percy are here, did you…”

“Saw them on the bench, but haven’t gotten to say hi yet.” She tilted her head, teasing. “Didn’t think I was just waiting for you, did you?”

Logan laughed. “Uh, non, definitely not.”

“But it is really good to see you. Really, really good. Seriously, though, is Finn doing okay? That was really hard footage to watch.”

Try being there. “Yeah. He’s—he’s better. He’s getting better. He might be at the next game in New York, if he gets cleared. Not dressed, but, still. Not having to sit in the dark.”

“Right.” Cassie nodded sympathetically. “God, that happened to him in college, didn’t it?”

Twice. Logan nodded. He didn’t expect her to remember. They’d been broken up by the second.

“Well, then I hope I get to say hi.”

Logan wasn’t sure how to talk about Finn with Cassie. She’d broken up with him over Finn, even though she hadn’t known it was Finn at the time. She’d thought it was another girl, just someone else taking up Logan’s attention. By the conflicted look on her face, it looked like she knew now.

“Um.” Cassie tucked her hair behind her ears then crossed her arms. “Listen. This is probably not the time and definitely not the place but I’m not sure—I kind of just have to say this if you don’t mind.” She glanced down the hallway, but they were alone. “I think I was kind of…I know I was hard on you when we broke up…”

Logan shook his head. He swallowed, trying to force the words out quickly. “Non. Non, I don’t think you were hard on me. If anyone was hard on someone, it was me on you. I mean…now you know that…that Finn and I?”

“Were you together then?” she asked, then her eyes widened. “God. No. Jesus, you don’t have to tell me that. That was so rude, wow. I’m sorry.” She laughed a little. “We don’t see each other for years and—”

“We weren’t,” Logan said, but then it was his turn to laugh a bit. “Well—Merde. I mean. We were… We loved each other then. But we…” How to even say it? “We thought we couldn’t.” No, that wasn’t it. “I thought we couldn’t.”

“You seriously don’t owe me an explanation,” Cassie said. “Logan, I was trying to apologize. The second I heard about you and Finn—I mean, I think I just saw a photo of you two on Twitter or something, or Instagram?—but I remembered our fight like it was yesterday and…”

“You thought I was cheating on you. And in a lot of ways you were right. You had ever right to be mad at me.”

“I…I know that now. But I loved you, and I shouldn’t have said all those horrible things.” She let out a breath. “I didn’t mean them. It’s just that I really, really loved you.”

Logan wouldn’t have said any of his heart still belonged to Cassie, but right then it felt like part of it might, in some way. It broke all over again for the two of them. For the quiet mornings and for looking up into the bleachers at games and seeing her there, wearing his sweater. For all the times she’d gone quiet and let him think about what he wanted to say, when she was always so bright and sudden for everyone else.

“Anyway,” she sighed. “I just didn’t know when I would see you again and, you know, knock on wood you’ll be too busy celebrating next game, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry. And that I’m happy for you. You and Finn.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Logan said. “I didn’t deserve you. I was trying to figure me out and…and I feel like I used you but, for the record, I did love you, too. Maybe not like you loved me, but.”

Cassie smiled. “Yeah?”

Logan smiled back. “Ouais.”

“Oh.” Cassie shook her head fondly. “God, I missed your French.”

Logan was laughing when he heard Leo’s voice from behind him.

“Lo?”

Logan turned and found him standing there, handsome in his navy suit. He looked between them hesitantly.

“Le,” Logan held out a hand to him. “Soleil, this is Cassie. Cas, this is my boyfriend, Leo.”

Cassie smiled, then looked alarmed, then smiled again. “Uh. Wait. Um. I mean, hi.”

“There’s two of them,” Logan said and took Leo’s hand. “Finn. Leo.”

“Two?”

“Two.”

Cassie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged. “Jesus, I can’t even find one. You were so great in the third, Leo, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh,” Leo said, a little dazed. Logan tried not to watch too closely as Leo looked Cassie up and down. “Well, thanks, pleasure to meet you. How do you two…”

Logan squeezed Leo’s fingers. “Cas and I were at school together—we…well, we…”

“Dated,” Cassie finished for him with a grin. “For a little while. But then again, I never got called the sun by this one so who’s counting it really.”

Leo looked down at Logan and Logan was so proud of the happy look in those blue eyes he could have kissed him. “No?”

“Nope,” Cassie said. “But I can see why you do.”

“Casss-ieee,” came Percy’s voice from behind them, and then the thump of him running down the hall. He didn’t even hesitate, not even when it had been years, before scooping her up in a hug. She shrieked, but let him spin her once and press a kiss to her cheek.

“Oh my God, will you not ever grow up Percy Marshall?”

Percy just grinned at her. His suit was wrinkled, as usual, and he towered over her, but he looked down at her smile like he was looking up to the blue sky. “Not a chance, Cassie Baker. Not with you to impress.”

“It’s been too long since I’ve been subjected to your flirting.”

“Well.” Percy released her and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Who knows. Maybe I really mean it this time.”

Logan felt Leo nudged him, hip against hip, and Logan leaned his head against his shoulder.

“Home?” Leo whispered.

“Ouais.”

Logan thwacked Percy upside the head as they passed by. “See you next game, Cas?”

“Count on it,” Cassie called, and when she wasn’t looking, Percy mouthed Cassie fucking Baker to him over her shoulder with a lovesick expression on his face.

“So, you dated her,” Leo said. He was trying very hard not to smile.

“Oasis,” Logan said. “But…” He reached up as they walked and traced a blond wave of Leo’s hair, then the gray streak. “I was obviously looking for you.”

“You know Hannah looks just like you, right?”

“What? Non.”

Leo laughed. “Logan Tremblay. Look alive, hot stuff—oh.” Leo’s phone pinged. “Gee, wonder who that could be.”

Please come home I talking to myself (sent with Siri)

Also the doctor is emailed I clear for traveled with to you so New York! Sirius send happy emoji no smile emoji no send smile (sent with Siri)

Leo snorted, Logan let out a loud laugh, then they had to take a minute, leaning against each other with silent laughter.

“What’s wrong with you two?” Remus asked as he passed by with Sirius and Julian.

“Sirius,” Logan gasped. “Send smile emoji.”

Leo crouched, hiding his face against Logan’s hip as his shoulders shook.

Sirius just shook his head and tugged on Remus’ hand. “You need to go home.”

“Send smile emoji!” Logan shouted after him.

Sirius just looked back at him. “What the fuck, Tremz.”

“I’ve got him,” Leo laughed, wrapping an arm around Logan’s shoulder. “C’mon, Harz is talking to himself, we better go save him.”

“He always talks to himself.”

“I don’t think he knows that.”

Leo just hummed in agreement. “She seemed nice.”

“She is,” Logan said.

“This is the girl you mean when you say college girlfriend, right?”

“Mhm,” Logan nodded, and took Leo’s hand again as they walked into the stairwell that led to the parking lot. It smelled like summer. Heat and humidity. Leo stripped off his suit jacket to drive and threw it in the back seat with their bags.

When they were turning the engine on, Logan put a hand over Leo’s. “Le.”

Leo looked up from adjusting his mirrors.

Logan took a breath. He wasn’t sure he actually wanted to talk it all through, but maybe it would get easier. Maybe. And he at least had the short drive home to start. “Want me to tell you about it?” Logan asked softly. “Cassie.”

Leo’s lips parted, surprised. His hair was darker, the ends starting to dry from his own shower. He had taken his tie off, too, and his shirt was open at the neck. Logan reached out and touched the indent of the fleur-de-lis necklace beneath his shirt. It had been passed back and forth between them— Finn had been wearing it for a few days there when he was mostly just sleeping and in pain, but Logan supposed at some point, Finn had slipped it over Leo’s neck again.

“Yeah,” Leo said softly. “I’d like that.”

Five hours and forty-four minutes. He had been bled on, puked on, grabbed, yelled at, and nearly toppled. His only spare pair of pants was now bound up in a plastic bag. Miracle of miracles, Sirius’ shirt was the only thing that hadn’t been damaged in the miserable afternoon. It made a great undershirt. It would also need to be washed at least four times before he could even dream of returning it.

Layla stared at a spot above his shoulder in the opposite jumpseat. One side of her eyeliner had been completely smudged away; the other, smeared sideways to her temple in a smoky trail.

“Nice job today.”

“Thanks.”

“That was a lot.” Layla nodded mutely. His heart pulled for her, a little bit. Even if their cases had been run-of-the-mill, nearly six hours of back-to-back calls would wear anyone down. He nudged the tip of her shoe with his own. “You’re learning fast. I saw some good work out there.”

“I’m…” She blinked slowly, then shook her head. “Wow, I think I fell asleep sitting up for a minute.”

“It happens.” In time, she’d learn to sleep wherever she could catch it. “When does your shift end?”

“Seven.”

“Almost done, then.”

“Mmm.”

The ambulance went over a bump, rattling the near-empty shelves and bashing Remus’ tailbone against the back ledge. “Sorry!” Leo called through the small window to the cab.

He had mostly given up hope that he’d see Sirius in the next twelve hours. His shift wasn’t over until midnight, and Sirius’ started at six the next morning. If he made time between his dentist appointment and calling his parents, he might be able to stop by in the afternoon, but it would be a stretch if he wanted to get any laundry done. And, Christ, that was a chore he couldn’t delay for another week. He liked those pants. More importantly, he now knew just how much Sirius liked them.

Something stirred in his belly at the thought. Warm hands cupping his ass and sliding over his flanks with astonishing care. Sirius had felt him up enough that he could probably make a Model Magic version of Remus’ body on touch alone—and wasn’t that a thing to picture. Somewhere between rounds two and three, Remus remembered kissing the backs of Sirius’ thighs. Pale skin and dark hair above the bare, sensitive bend of his knees. They slotted so well in his palms. Sirius had looked like glory itself when he peeked over his shoulder to look.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Remus jumped. “What? Nothing. Sorry, nothing, why?”

“You’re all frowny.”

Thank god for that. “Just…the day.”

A vague and reliable excuse. Layla snorted. “Tell me about it.”

There will never be a day when I tell you about this. Remus hoped his laugh didn’t come out too strained. “Seriously.”

They took the next turn a little wider, sending their final two ointment boxes sliding out of place. He fixed them blindly while the city center rolled past through the back windows. Did Sirius still have scratch marks on his upper thighs?

Another bump knocked the thought from his head. “We’re home,” Leo singsonged from the driver’s seat. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the showers, wondering why I chose this life path.”

“Mood,” Layla mumbled.

“I’m also Grubhubbing a sundae, and you can’t stop me.”

One of the last functioning neurons in Remus’ head lit up. “Get me one.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Get your own.”

“I’m your boss.”

“You make more money than me.”

“Yes, let me flaunt my extra fifty cents an hour,” he countered dryly. “Every night, I rub my quarters together, just to flex on you. That beautiful sound of a handful of nickels.”

“…I’ll see what they have.”

“Good rookie.”

He didn’t wait for the ambulance to stop before opening the doors. The familiar ka-chunk of the lock coming free was music to his ears—a sweet, sweet anthem of freedom, the promise of a lukewarm cup of coffee and a maybe-stale donut from the break room.

And Sirius.

Sirius, sitting on one of his packed and labeled inventory bins.

Remus stared.

“Remus?”

“Go ahead,” he said absently. “I’ll catch up.”

Layla hopped out with a groan. Six hours was a long time to be up and down. Remus was sure his feet would ache the same when he stood. If he stood. Sirius’ hair stuck up at the back, like he’d been running his hands through it.

Remus loved when he did that.

He just. He really did like him, quite a lot.

Keep me.

What had he been thinking? Six hours was a long time to wait. He had told Sirius he’d be right back. It was his day off; why hadn’t he left after it was clear Remus wouldn’t return?

He supposed he could ask the same question about that morning. God, could it really only have been a few hours since he felt Sirius’ bare chest against his own? They had practically been spooning with how tight they were tangled in each other when he woke. Remus hardly remembered falling asleep, only aware of the pleasant ache in his muscles and the humming pleasure in his belly. Pure satisfaction. Pure comfort, at having Sirius hold him like more than a friend.

He watched Leo wander off. Sirius didn’t seem to have noticed. He didn’t so much as flinch when Remus stumbled off the rig and beelined for him, not until Remus stopped in front of him, unsure what to say. I want you I like you I’m sorry please kiss me again, I still get goosebumps thinking about the way your mouth tastes with adrenaline.

Sirius blinked up at him, full lips and glossy lashes. His bone structure was fucking criminal. “You’re back,” he said, so soft and sweet and genuinely happy that Remus’ stomach flopped over itself. Sirius stood, tucking his phone into his pocket without a second glance at it. He was just—big. And tall. And gorgeous. Remus now knew precisely how solid his chest was, and how nice it was to kiss. “Did you have a good day?”

Remus stepped forward and planted his face directly into that chest.

“Oh,” Sirius laughed. It vibrated against his forehead; he closed his eyes. Arms came up around him, hands settling at his nape and the small of his back. He knew he smelled awful. Sirius didn’t seem to care as a tentative kiss nestled on the top of his head and melted Remus’ insides out his throbbing feet.

He sighed. Sirius smelled all warm and spicy. Detergent, cologne, or simply the way he was? Remus couldn’t wait to find out. “This is nice.”

“Yeah.” The delight was back. Sirius pushed the breath from his lungs on a squeeze. “Yeah, it is. I like this.”

“I’m gonna kiss you,” Remus mumbled. “Gonna kiss you so good. Just…two seconds.”

“You can kiss me whenever you want.”

“Two seconds.” It was so dark in his new haven. Sirius’ lungs moved calmly, steadily. His heart rate was a little fast, but nothing to worry about. Remus let his ears go foggy and pressed closer, nuzzling into the space between his collarbones.

Sirius kissed the top of his head again, less hesitant this time, before resting his chin there. “Long day?” he asked after several seconds. Remus hummed. “Sounded like you guys didn’t get much of a break.”

“Mhmm.” He turned his head to the side and rubbed his cheek over Sirius’ sternum. He couldn’t count the number of times they had sat together on the couch or at the table or in the window seat, legs intertwined while they worked through their days. Separate snacks at first, then a single bowl to share once they knew each other’s favorites. It had been nice, to have someone there. Someone to talk to, someone to listen, someone who understood.

But this…this was so much better.

Sirius’ thumb stroked a short path along his spine. It zinged all the way into the base of Remus’ skull. “I sweated through your shirt,” he muttered, pushing his head further beneath Sirius’ chin. “After I stole it from you by accident. Sorry. I’ll wash it.”

He felt Sirius’ smile on his temple. “Keep it. Looks better on you.”

“Think I left mine at your place.”

“Guess you’ll just have to come back and get it,” Sirius whispered playfully. Remus couldn’t help a grin, raising his head despite the pounding drowsiness behind his eye—he had barely opened his mouth to retort when there were lips brushing his own, a wordless request. He granted it easily.

This was different than the rushed promise on the ambulance. Different than last night’s smoky, need-fueled passion. He let Sirius lead, tender and questioning, then pushed into it a little more. Have it, he tried to say. Take it all, it’s been yours for a while. The words may not work, but he was willing to bet Sirius would understand anyway. His lower lip was chapped on one side when Remus ran his tongue along the seam, giddy and dizzy with the kiss-buzz of chasteness.

“Hmm.”

That was good. It was all good, if Sirius would keep making noises like that. He brought his hands up to rest on narrow hips (marked with a tiny scar just above his thigh, which Remus was so fucking glad he knew now) and gave a little more, pushed a little harder. Sirius’ hand cupped his jaw and the right side of Remus’ brain powered down.

“Hm—wait, wait.”

His attempt to lick forward into Sirius’ mouth was stymied by sudden distance between them. Not far—he could still pick out each fleck of quicksilver in Sirius’ unfocused eyes—but far enough to be frustrating for the part of him that was enjoying turning his thoughts off. Remus went up on his toes for more, but Sirius pulled away. “What?” he whispered, though they were alone. “Did you—are you mad at me?”

“No,” Sirius said hurriedly. His hands soothed down Remus’ sides in a long drag that sent tingles through each cell. “God, no, I’m trying to—” His cheeks went a touch pink as he glanced around them and coughed lightly. “Uh, I’m trying to calm down.”

“Oh. Oh.”

Remus hadn’t even thought about that. He was pretty sure he was too tired for his body to consider arousal, aside from the inevitable spike of desire for a soft place to land for two to eight hours. Sirius’ mouth was so nice, his body so warm, that it was all too tempting to get lost in it.

Sirius’ tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. Well. Remus supposed he might be able to feel something other than pure exhaustion, if he tried. “What time do you get off?”

“Whenever you want me to,” Remus answered immediately, then felt himself redden at the arch of Sirius’ brows. “Fuck—sorry. Midnight. My shift’s done at midnight.”

The fingertips on his back had become an extraordinary distraction. Sirius looked almost shy, so at odds with the animated boy he knew against this backdrop that Remus wanted to memorize every inch of it. “Can I…” Sirius began, then trailed off as his blush darkened. His thumbs hooked around Remus’ hipbones and paused there, lingering on bare skin. “Can I maybe take you to dinner? Or a diner?”

“At midnight?”

“I know a couple places.”

Remus frowned. “You have work tomorrow.”

Sirius gave a sheepish half-shrug. “We could nap together. Today, I mean. If you want.”

“I smell horrible.”

“You smell fine.”

“I’m soaked in dry sweat.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I—” That was it for excuses. That was all he had. Every defense against Sirius was dust in the wind. He smiled, and stood on his toes again to kiss one scruffy cheek. “Yeah, sounds good. Let me wash my face and grab some water. I’ll meet you in the bunks.”

Remus leaned against the countertop for support and stared at the floor. “But he’s okay, right?”

“He’s okay,” his mother answered. She sounded beyond exhausted.

Remus nodded and rubbed his fingers under his eye. The night suddenly seemed so much darker. “How’re you and dad? Taking time off?”

“We’re alright.” He knew that low edge to her voice—it was the same one his own took on when he was trying to hide his hurt. Silence fell over the line.

“Mom.”

“Your dad can’t get PTO this week and neither can I.”

She cleared her throat; he closed his eyes. “Can Leanne keep an eye on him?”

“Visiting her daughter in Florida.”

No parents, no neighbors, no way they’re getting a babysitter for a sick kid… “I’ll be on the next flight.”

“Remus, no.”

“There’s nobody else—”

“Honey.” He could see the way her eyebrows drew together in his mind. “Honey, you’re on the road this week.”

“I know.”

“In Montreal.”

“They can handle a couple games without me.”

“You’re practically a rookie, Remus,” his mother insisted. After a pause, she lowered her voice. “You’re not going to damage your career when we can get a babysitter, or—or I can find a couple days off. Hell, your dad’s got a pullout at the office he can rest on.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

“Remus John, you have a responsibility to your team.”

“Jules comes first.” If there was one thing Remus would stand by no matter the circumstances, it was his family. The Lions would survive a roadie without him. Jules would never be alone and sick on his watch.

His mother was silent for a long time.

Remus picked at a chip in the granite. “There’s no babysitter that will watch him, is there?”

A sigh traveled down the line. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby. Give Sirius my best. Sleep well.”

“I will,” he lied. The call went dead and he turned, bracing both hands against cool stone. Sirius’ footsteps were soft, his hand gentle. Remus sniffled. His chest was a vise. “Mom says hi.”

Slow circles pressed between his shoulder blades. “What happened?”

“Jules got the flu, and they can’t get time off work to stay home with him.” Fucking assholes in fucking corporate. Remus swallowed around the clog in his throat. “Sounds like he’s pretty sick.”

“Does he need to go to the hospital?”

Remus shook his head. The hand on his back slid down and wrapped around his side, guiding him to lean on Sirius’ chest. “Do you want me to book your flight while you call Coach?”

“Yeah.” His voice was rough. He didn’t let go. “God, I hate being so far away.”

Sirius’ other arm came around him and held him tight.

--

Remus and his father talked the whole ride home from the airport, and said nothing at all.

The house was just as he left it at Christmas. No snow remained, and little frost—crocuses peeked out of the lawn where the squirrels had snatched and buried them.

Apologies for the late notice, but due to a family emergency, I will be in Wisconsin until the 22nd. Thank you for your understanding.

Rapid responses. Cranky responses. Remus had tried to keep a level head, even through the tremor of his hands on the computer keyboard. The organization wasn’t happy with him, but when were they ever?

It didn’t matter either way. Fine or not, suspension or not, they weren’t going to stop him from making chicken soup and raspberry Emergen-C for his sick little brother. He was damn lucky to have Arthur on his side, easing the retribution from men in offices who had hardly bothered to meet him at the start of the season.

“Your mother’s worried.”

Remus glanced up from his hands. His father was facing forward, brow pinched while he pulled into the driveway. “Yeah.”

The engine turned off with a sputter. “Be gentle, okay?”

“It’s not your fault they wouldn’t give you time—”

“Be gentle.”

Remus bit the inside of his lip and nodded. A goldfish cracker peered out at him from the crevice by the door. This passenger seat always made him feel so small. He slung his backpack out of the seat well and stepped out, letting the crisp air nip his face and bring him back. He needed to come back more. The heartache had lessened, and distance was simply exhausting now. Running fast and far to Gryffindor had seemed so smart before.

The front door still squeaked when he turned the doorknob. Remus was glad for that, at least.

His mother smiled when she saw him. “Hi, baby, how was your flight?”

“Hey, mom.” It was good, he started to say, only to have the words fall from his mind the moment she stepped around the kitchen table and wrapped him in her arms. It’s been a lot I love you I missed you how are you where’s Jules—“Uneventful, thankfully.”

“Good, that’s just the way you want it.” She gave a little sway, one hand cradling the back of his neck. He felt a light pulse of pressure. Her back, ever tense, relaxed slightly. “It’s so good to have you home.”

Remus breathed deep. Lemon-scented cleaning spray and drugstore shampoo, laundry detergent and just-sharpened pencils. He pressed his nose tighter to her shoulder and felt her squeeze him, just a little. “Missed you.”

“Oh, Re,” she sighed. A hand rubbed along his spine for a few hard, grounding, wonderful seconds. Warmth seeped in around his edges. The floor was solid beneath him, the walls sturdy. A kiss found his temple. “Baby, we missed you, too.”

A rattling cough made him wince. “Jeez.”

“I know.” Her face crinkled into a grimace when they separated and she looked back down the hall. “That started up two days ago. Poor thing. Keeps him up at night.”

“Aw.” The cough was followed by a rough throat-clear that made Remus frown. “Fever and everything?”

“102, as of this morning.” Hope ran a palm over his shoulder, the way she tended to right after he came home. Remus tried not to think about that too hard, or else he made himself sad. “You’re sure about this? You could get sick. It’s the middle of the season.”

Remus tried for an encouraging smile. “My immune system’s great, mom. I’m in good shape, I take my multivitamins. Eat my Wheaties, and all that.”

“Hmm.” She scrutinized him for a beat. “You better be.”

“I’m basically indestructible.”

Her laugh bounced off the corners of the house like it always had. “Let’s not get hasty, hon.”

“Mom?”

Remus’ heart sank.

“Dad?” Jules croaked, a little louder. “Did the neighbors come over?”

“Hey, J,” Remus called. The floorboards gave a light groan when he set his bag down at the end of the hall. “It’s me, bud.”

Silence followed. The bathroom nightlight was on, casting the hall in gentle blue. His hand drifted toward the first door on reflex (cool metal knob, lock on the inside, jimmy it three times in the winter when the frame sticks), but he managed to step past it and knock lightly below the ‘J LUPIN. DO NOT ENTER.’ sign scotch-taped to the old wood.

“Jules? I’m opening the door.”

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Stale, sweaty, feverish—Remus did a double-take without meaning to.

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” Jules rasped from somewhere to his right. “Hey. Hi, why are you here?”

“You slept too long. It’s June. I’m here for the summer.”

“Hey.”

“You’re sick, dummy.” Remus tried to be subtle about propping the door open wider with a loose hockey glove. “I’m taking care of you.”

With the new, faint light from the hallway, he could see just how terrible Julian looked. His unconvinced squint didn’t help the sallowness of his skin or the heavy bags carved under his eyes. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh, you have a roadie in—” Another hacking cough interrupted him. It shook his tiny frame hard enough to make his knees bend under the covers. Remus’ heart gave an acid lurch.

Agitated heat radiated off him to the point that Remus could feel it when he perched on the edge of the bed. The sheets were a tangled mess; one blanket half-tucked, the other mostly on the floor. “Deep breaths,” he soothed when the coughing turned to a few aggressive sniffles. “Take it easy.”

“Montreal,” Jules finished in a mutter. He wiped his nose on the edge of his baggy t-shirt (almost certainly their father’s, with the way it dwarfed him) and laid back with a long huff. “You got a roadie in Montreal. Dad ‘n me are gonna watch the game.”

“Dad and I.”

“Shhh.”

He smiled to himself and tugged the top blanket down to shimmy the next one into position. “Well, you and I can watch it. How’s that sound?”

“No, you need to play,” Jules groaned, but even that was weak. He curled onto his side and peeked out of his huddle, dull-eyed and flushed. “How come you’re here anyway?”

“Told you. I’m taking care of you.”

“But hockey.”

“But you.”

“But…hockey.”

“But you.” His stomach gave a little pull. “You’re more important than a couple games, bud.”

Jules didn’t look like he believed him. “…okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re R—”

“Don’t you—” Remus bit back his words (and his grin) and whacked lightly at the outline of Jules’ legs under the blankets, coaxing a crunchy sort of laugh from him. “Watch it. I’m in charge of feeding you for the next few days.”

Jules’ giggling trickled out with a last sniff. “Mom and Dad gotta go to work, huh?”

“Yeah.” The wrinkle of his nose was almost certainly reflected on Remus’ face. “But hey, we’ll have fun.”

“Mmm.”

The air shifted, along with his gut. Jules’ breaths were heavier. His eyes, lidded. His forehead was far too hot against the back of Remus’ hand when he checked it. “Tired?”

“Mhmm.”

Wrapping him in a dozen blankets and cuddling him as tight as possible wouldn’t help. Logically, Remus knew that. The temptation was still there. “Too hot?”

“Warm.”

“Want me to take a blanket?”

Jules shook his head. His eyes were closed fully now. “Weight’s nice.”

Every inhale hitched when Remus rested a hand between his shoulder blades, feeling for his pulse. That, at least, was calm. Jules had sweated through the old grey fabric there. He combed a few strands of hair off his burning brow and swallowed around his dry throat. “Want me to leave you alone for a bit?”

“Gonna nap.” Jules’ twitched, as if he was trying to readjust but lacked the energy. “Here when I wake up?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be here.”

--

The evening passed without issue. Night rolled in with a gust of wind that hissed across the windowpanes while Remus dried the last of the dishes. Jules had managed to get up and come to the table for dinner, but he had looked even worse in the brighter light and barely ate half a bowl of soup. He could see their mother struggling not to fuss over him, not that Jules had any oomph to give real protest.

What kind of family emergency is this, Lupin?

A family emergency. I can come back the 22nd.

You’re missing two games. Do you understand that? Weasley won’t play you for the third, either.

I understand.

Is this a funeral?

No.

A wedding?

No.

It’s a request for nonvital time off, then. This could very well result in a fine.

I’m aware of that. Time off for a family emergency is covered in my contract. I’m permitted to miss four games.

Are you really going to put in a request for this? For a nonvital midweek trip instead of two NHL games?

That’s precisely what I’m requesting, yes. This is an emergency and therefore it is vital.

Remus had not missed the bureaucracy of the NHL during his time on the ice. There was still administrative irritation, of course, but it had not been nearly long enough since he played email tag with someone determined to make his life harder. ‘Nonvital emergency’. It made him want to laugh and lose it at the same time. What a fucking joke.

A sudden rustle and thud—likely Jules’ elbow hitting the wall between their rooms, ouch—startled him from half-sleep. Clumsy footsteps pattered on the floor; a door creaked and closed, quickly followed by a dry heave. Remus winced in sympathy.

This bedroom felt too small. His feet touched the end of the bed if he stretched out. There were only a few inches’ allowance for his shoulders on either side before he hit a wall or the edge of the mattress. Even his stuff felt smaller, as if the books shrank in his hands and the trophies had been made for someone Jules’ size.

He supposed they had been. Juniors was a world away, these days. He had turned the idea of keeping a potential you-know-what ring here instead of in Gryffindor, but never really committed one way or another. That, too, felt far off. He was stuck in the middle of a spectrum, where nothing felt quite right.

The toilet flushed, but he didn’t hear Jules leave. The low timbre of their father’s voice buzzed in the hall for a second; he didn’t catch Jules’ response. Remus swung his legs over the side of the bed with a huff and stood despite the creaking protests of his knees.

The blue light looked eerie in the cover of real night. He propped Jules’ door open again as he passed. A little ventilation couldn’t hurt. He paused in the doorway of the bathroom and crouched down, lowering himself to the cool linoleum with a soft groan. “Sup?”

“M not gonna throw up again.”

“Okay.” Remus flexed his ankles against the cabinets and tilted his head back. The soft towels buffered him from the wallpaper. Next to him, Jules’ forehead was stubbornly pressed into the crease of his elbow where he rested it on the toilet seat. “Still sick?”

A wordless mumble answered him.

“I’m gonna make chicken and dumplings tomorrow.”

Jules weakly raised his head. “Really?”

“Yup. Protein, veggies, sodium, starch. All that good stuff.”

Quiet fell over them for a long moment. “What are you talking about?”

“What, you don’t want a science lesson?”

“Nerd—”

He knew it was going to happen before Jules’ first jerk forward and caught his side when he wobbled, giving gentle pressure until he was upright. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay, I got you.”

“Ugh.”

“I know. You’re doing great, J.” It was over as fast as it started. Jules trembled lightly under his touch, sweaty again, all too warm again. His knuckles stood out in harsh midnight shadows where he gripped the porcelain, thin arms shivering.

Jules sniffled. “I wanna go to bed.”

“I bet.”

“I’m tired.”

“Can you stand up?” It took Jules a moment to even start moving; when he did, it was sluggish and unsteady. Remus hovered his hands close and resisted the urge to scoop him right up. Jules wouldn’t like that. He hated being babied. It was still fucking hard to watch him pull himself to his feet.

A rinse-and-spit and a cool washcloth on the back of his neck made Jules sigh. He leaned right into Remus’ hip, head at the base of his ribs, and staggered along on foal legs while Remus guided him back to bed with a lump in the base of his throat. There was no fuss about being tucked in—he simply sighed again, so content it hurt. Remus smoothed out the hem of the comforter by his neck just one more time, once more, just so he could be sure.

--

Their parents were out by the time Remus woke. He distantly recalled the sound of them leaving, but the plane left him groggy enough not to notice or care. Jules was still snoring loud enough for him to hear it through their shared wall.

Breakfast, then. Something light. Oatmeal or eggs, if he could keep it down. Broth, if not. Remus would have to check the fridge for Gatorade and lemons.

It was strange to be functionally alone in the house. The carpet felt too soft, the curtains too still. A bright pink sticky note was stuck to the table with his name written in big letters at the top. He’d check it later.

Message To: SB <3

Morning :)

Fever’s still going, nasty cough, the works. I’ll keep an eye on him today.

Miss you

He clicked his phone off and set it aside—hopefully, Sirius wouldn’t be awake for some time yet. They didn’t have practice for two more hours in his time zone. He liked to sleep in on days like that. Remus, on the other hand, had work to do.

Quick eggs and bacon for himself took fifteen minutes. He parked himself at his usual seat without really thinking about it, pulling a dish towel and a fork from their drawers with an absent mind. He hadn’t dared to check his email yet and seriously contemplated leaving it alone until he was back in Gryffindor. Time off was time off. Professional hockey wasn’t big on ‘work from home’.

Jules shuffled in half past ten and made a beeline for the couch.

“Good morning.”

A grunt answered.

“Sleep well?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Want oatmeal?”

Jules’ mumble seemed vaguely affirmative. Remus set the kettle on and dug a pot out of the cupboard, then turned to rummage in the pantry. This was setting up to be a silent morning.

Measuring for a sick preteen was almost as strange as picturing his childhood bedroom as a normal size. Remus had only cooked for himself for years, then himself and Sirius, with the occasional potluck dish for a team dinner or holiday party. A single cup of anything was a novelty. “Want sugar?” he checked once the oats and milk were simmering. Jules snuffled in response, dragging one of the knit blankets further over his head. “Lemme check your temperature and then you can tell me, yeah?”

“Mmkay.”

A quick search of the medicine cabinet revealed no thermometer, and the same went for the hall closet. Remus spent a good five minutes riffling through the bathroom drawers and Jules’ desk before he found it propped against the base of his dolphin lamp. It had been left uncapped; gross. He made sure to give it a thorough wash before moving back into the living room.

“Blanket down.”

“No.”

“I can’t see your mouth. C’mon, just for a second.”

“Cold. Bright.”

“Twenty seconds, J. I promise. You can count.”

The blanket lump shifted. “Twenty?”

“Fifteen. Then I’ll bring your oatmeal over and leave you alone.”

A handful of shallow breaths filled the silence before Jules’ forehead poked out, then his glazed eyes, and finally the lower half of his face. Remus grimaced. His nose was red and chapped from tissues, and a faint crack split the side of his lower lip. “Have you been drinking your water?”

“Fifteen seconds,” Jules slurred.

Remus knew he wasn’t getting a better number than yesterday. Not with this vague lucidity, and not when Jules was hardly able to hold a fragment of a conversation. All the same, it made his gut sink when the thermometer beeped.

“Whuzzat?”

“102.5.”

“ ‘S worse?”

“Yep.”

A resigned nod told him Jules expected as much. The blanket swallowed him up again. Remus pulled it down over his feet before heading back to the kitchen.

Three hours passed with all the rush of a snail on codeine. Jules rallied to choke down his oatmeal before going down for a noon nap, let Remus rouse him to gulp down about a gallon of water, and overall remained sedentary while Remus channel-surfed for anything even slightly interesting on daytime TV. They settled on NCIS from one to 2:30, NCIS: Miami from 2:30 to four (with a brief break for sandwiches, or toast, in Jules’ case), and rounded it out with NCIS: LA while Remus tossed some rotisserie chicken and chopped vegetables in a simmering pot of broth.

“Re?”

“Yeah, bud?” Bisquick puffed over the side of the mixing bowl in a soft cloud.

“My stomach hurts.” Jules’ voice wavered. “And my mouth feels weird.”

Fuck. “Bathroom, hustle.”

The glimpse he caught of Jules before he vanished down the hall confirmed it: pallid skin, dilated pupils, sweat gleaming on the back of his neck. Remus rinsed his hands in the sink and dug the box of Pepto Bismol tablets out of his bag, and sent a silent thanks to whatever small mercy it was that left him without a reactive gag reflex.

He spent twenty minutes sitting sideways with water seeping into his pants from the bathmat. “I’m gonna throw up until I die,” Jules whined, pressing his forehead to Remus’ palm.

“You’re not gonna die. Definitely not while I’m here.” He slid his hand around to press against the nape of Jules’ neck and gave a light squeeze. “You’re almost done. Work it out, buddy.”

“Gonna miss the game?”

Despite the sweat, despite the illness, despite it all—Remus smiled. Of course Jules would be thinking about that when he looked like death warmed over. He wouldn’t be a Lupin with anything else on his mind. “We’ve still got half an hour.”

Jules gave a faint push back into his hand. His lower lip wobbled. “I don’t want to miss it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it.”

“I don’t—” His voice cracked, but it wasn’t even slightly funny. He took a shuddering inhale and sniffled again, harsher. “I don’t want to be sick anymore, I don’t, I’m so done, I don’t like it.”

“Jules…” The redness had flooded his cheeks and ears, inching down his neck with each horribly choked breath. Jules’ eyes were bright, but not like usual. He blinked and a drip tracked down his nose. His exhale wasn’t much of an exhale at all—it wracked him, made him sway. “Oh,” Remus murmured. “Oh, hey, c’mere.”

The edge of thirteen had left Jules gangly, all bones and joints. He still fit just right in the hollow of Remus’ chest and arms. A shivering, overheated mess, but a mess that fit all the same. Fuck it, Remus thought as he tightened his arms around Jules and let him fall apart in the safe dark. He didn’t care if he got sick. This was the most vital emergency he could possibly think of. If the administration had a problem with that, he’d happily turn his gear in before leaving Jules to burn through this alone.

“I’m tired,” Jules whispered through shuddering breaths. “My head hurts ‘n my stomach hurts ‘n everything else, too.”

“I know, bud, you’re being so brave.”

A damp, wounded noise made Remus wince.

“But hey, you haven’t thrown up in, like, five minutes.”

Jules felt around blindly for a tissue and blew his nose several times before answering. “I guess.”

“You ready to get up? Have some dinner and watch the game?”

“Dizzy.”

“Okay.” He pressed the wrinkles out of Jules’ shirt with his palm and felt him go limp. “I brought some super special secret hockey medicine, if that’ll help.”

“…is it Gatorade?”

“No, but we have that, too.” He rattled the box next to Jules’ ear. “Pepto Bismol. My secret weapon.”

“Nuh-uh. That’s the pink sh—stuff.”

“Nice save,” Remus said dryly. “This is the same. It’s easier to keep down, though. And it works faster.”

“Makes my stomach stop hurting?”

“It might help.”

He waited a beat, then two. A clammy palm extended from the tangle of limbs near his middle. He dropped two of the chalky tabs into it and loosened his hold by a degree, enough for Jules to pop them both in his mouth and frown immediately. “Yuck. It’s crunchy.”

“Keep chewing.”

“Why is it coming apart like that?”

“Keep chewing,” Remus repeated through a light laugh. “Doesn’t work if you talk the whole way through.”

Jules tucked his legs closer to himself, pushing him further into Remus’ lap. As horrible as the past twenty minutes had been, he seemed better for it. The fevered sheen to his face wasn’t quite as nuclear. His breathing sounded more even and controlled.

“You finished?”

“Mhmm.”

Jules might have looked better, but Remus didn’t have the energy to fight the coddling urge this time. He slid his free arm across the back of Jules’ knees and hefted him up like a cat gone boneless, and received no protest whatsoever. Instead, Jules curled into him with a long, relieved sigh. Remus’ heart may have shattered a little.

The pregame show was just wrapping up when he set Jules gingerly on the couch and pulled the blanket around him. Half of his waterbottle was gone in a few desperate swallows; Jules wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and all but collapsed onto the throw pillows, a heap of exhaustion. The belltower by the middle school tolled six. His sandy hair was damp at the root when Remus passed a hand through it. They’d fix that eventually. Fluids first (hockey first), then everything else.

New Message From: SB <3

Heading to the rink. Miss you love you : )

Remus smiled down at his phone as he set Jules’ bowl on the coffee table and folded himself into the armchair.

“Tell Sirius I say hi.”

“He’s literally right there,” Remus laughed, gesturing at the TV. “He’s not gonna see it for ages.”

“Still.” Jules poked around with his spoon for a few seconds before attempting a small sip of broth. An approving nod followed. “It’s good.”

“Glad it meets your standards. Eat. Protein, veggies, sodium, starch.”

Jules’ eye roll was weak, but very much present. “I know, I know.”

“You gotta know that stuff.”

“I’m not gonna be a doctor.”

“Yeah, but you’re still gonna be a person.” Remus cut a dumpling in half with the side of his spoon. “If you don’t know how to feed yourself by the time you move out, I’m totally making fun of you.”

“Whatever.”

They both booed when the Habs skated out, and cheered when the Lions appeared soon after. Jules couldn’t muster much more than a rough whisper, but the soup and a bottle of Gatorade seemed to help. Remus made him get up and stretch during the first period intermission (to immense complaints, but eventual acquiescence) before letting him rest while he washed up in the kitchen.

New Message From: SB <3

First period up.

How’s J?

New Message To: SB <3

Haha yeah we’re watching

Temp’s high, still pretty sick. Getting better tho

Made soup

The response was almost immediate. Remus’ heart skipped at the thought of Sirius glued to his phone even after a rough period, just to chat with him.

New Message From: SB <3

Oooo jealous

New Message To: SB <3

Yeah you should be

It’s a real rager up here

Miss you. Go get ‘em.

A simple heart and hockey stick emoji followed. The grey bubble cycled for a moment before disappearing. That would be the midgame meeting. Remus was glad to be home—wouldn’t trade this—but he had to admit the hockey ache was still there. Even easy choices had consequences.

By the time he looked back, Jules was asleep. Remus checked his forehead as delicately as he could and was pleased to find it slightly cooler than that morning, if altogether too warm. The pattern of creaky floorboards laid a map in his bones as he moved through the house: first to open Jules’ window, then to let his blankets air out, and while he was at it, he may as well wash the sheets. The nightstand and bookshelf needed to be wiped down. It wasn’t hard to get that done while the washer rumbled on the other side of the hall. In the meantime, the soup had cooled enough to pack up in Tupperware to stack in the fridge for later. Who knew if Jules would suddenly get his appetite back? The kid was a bear when he was hungry.

He lingered for the end of the second period and swapped the sheets into the dryer at the start of the third with a cookie and a cup of Emergen-C for himself. He damn well better not catch whatever germs Jules had percolated from the hellscape of middle school. Sirius had called him ‘stubbornly healthy’ on too many occasions for it to be disproven. Besides, the administration might actually fire him if he came back from an emergency and was immediately out for three more games.

“Re?”

The sound of a quiet voice took Remus’ off-guard in the last few minutes of the third period. “What’s up?”

Jules shifted around until he could prop his chin on the throw pillow and blink blearily at Remus. “Did we win?”

“Game’s still going. 4-3, Lions.”

“How much time?”

“Just under five.”

Jules attempted a whistle, though it came out as more of a shaky breath. “Almost there.”

“Dad texted. They’ll be home in a few, traffic was rough.”

“Oh, okay.” A small smile lit his face. He burrowed back under the blanket. “That’s good.”

“They’ve been asking about you all day.”

“Did’ja tell them I was fine?”

“Something like that.” Sort of. Maybe. He had been gentle about it, at least. Gory details would only make them panic.

He made sure to poke Jules awake for the last minute of the game before shepherding him down the hall to brush his teeth and shower. It was only 8:30, but Remus felt weary all the way to his core. He made Jules’ bed while the water ran and tried to tuck the sheets in along the wall a little deeper this time, just in case one tried to end up on the floor again. If he had the time, he may as well do it right, pinched fingers notwithstanding.

It was all worth it when Jules trudged back into his bedroom and threw himself into bed, only to gasp aloud. “Aw, man, this is great.”

“You’re welcome,” Remus laughed.

“Oh, wow.” The bumps of Jules’ feet kicked happily under layers of fabric and down. “It’s all warm, and cozy…”

“Get some sleep,” he reminded him, and turned out the big light. “If you need anything, I’m right next door.”

He made it halfway across Jules’ carpet.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“You—” The faint outline of Jules’ head was backlit by his lamp. Remus could see the shadows of his hands fidgeting with the top blanket. “Will you…can you tell me about the soup stuff? The proteins and all that.”

Remus hesitated. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Jules said with a surprisingly enthusiastic nod. “It sounds cool.”

“I mean—yeah, sure. Uh…” Jules’ desk chair looked wildly uncomfortable for this time of night, so edge of the bed it was, he supposed. The sheets provided a nice cushion when he sat. “Okay, have you ever heard of macromolecules?”

“That’s a made-up word.”

“It’s what you’re made up of, actually. How about DNA? You know that one?”

--

Lyall opened the front door with a muttered curse for the bitter wind and the worse traffic. It was brutally unfair that the one day he tried to come home early, everything went to hell and kept him an age and a half longer. What kind of karma came after a father trying to get home to his sick kid?

“It’s awfully quiet,” Hope remarked behind him. The door opened at last; warm air rushed over them. “Boys? Are you up?”

The NHL postgame show was playing at a low volume, next to a plate with crumbs on it and a mug so old the pattern had washed off it. One of Hope’s blankets from her knitting phase was haphazardly piled on the couch. The evidence of both of them there, present and accounted for and safe, plucked at his heartstrings. “Why do I feel like this is exactly where they sat for the entire day?”

She shook her head. “Good for them. I’m jealous. Remus? Julian? Are you home?”

Remus’ bedroom door was closed. The bathroom fan was still on, and steam clung to the corners of the mirror next to a still-damp towel. It couldn’t have been long since they went to bed, then. Lyall pushed Julian’s bedroom door open wider and covered his mouth with his palm.

They had nearly rendered each other invisible, save for Remus’ legs stretched over the side of the bed and Julian’s arm resting atop his pile of blankets. Julian’s congested snoring drowned out the heavy, even rhythm of Remus’ breathing. As far as he could tell, only one of them had actually been prepared for bed.

“Oh my goodness,” Hope whispered at his shoulder. Her grin was radiant, even half-covered by her palm. “I don’t want to move them.”

“Re’s going to wake up with one hell of a side cramp if we let him sleep like that.”

“You do it, then.”

“…no.”

Hope scoffed fondly and tossed her hands in the air, then kissed him on the jaw as she stepped deeper into the bedroom. The whole place felt lighter, Lyall noticed. Julian had been holed up in here for two days, refusing to come out for anything but necessities. Whatever Remus had done, it worked wonders.

“Remus,” Hope singsonged in her quietest voice. She shook his shoulder, soft enough that for a moment, Lyall forgot Remus wasn’t a toddler anymore. “Baby, you need to wake up. It’s bedtime.”

“ ‘M asleep,” Remus mumbled without opening his eyes. “In my bed.”

“This isn’t your bed, lovey,” she laughed. “Come on, up you go.”

“Goin’ to sleep, promise.” His eyelashes fluttered, nose crinkling. “Talking ‘bout—‘bout proteins. Jules wanted to know.”

At the head of the bed, Julian didn’t show so much as a hint of waking. Lyall stepped forward and braced his hands under Remus’ arms, then hoisted him into a sitting position as gently as he could manage with the unexpected weight of an athlete to counterbalance him.

Remus jolted, startling into consciousness. “Woah—”

“Shh, shh.” Lyall helped him stand on clumsy legs and guided him to the door with a last playful glance at Hope. “I’ve got you, buddy.”

“Fell asleep.” Remus blinked hard. “Jules’ bed. Wanted me to stay. Time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Oh, god, ‘s early.” A yawn overtook him, spilling more of his weight into Lyall. He didn’t seem to know where his own feet were, but he went easily into the room next door.

“Alright,” Lyall huffed as he helped Remus stumble toward the bed and splay over the mattress. That old thing was definitely too small for him these days. Funny, how times changed so rapidly. That same bed used to make Remus look like nothing more than a pile of sheets. “Brush your teeth?”

A drawn-out snore answered him.

Lyall smiled to himself in the darkness and ruffled the back of Remus’ hair. “Night, Re.”

A single socked foot twitched in response. That was good enough for him.

Alarm at 4:30.

(Pull himself away from the glorious warmth and snugglyness that is his boys in their wonderful bed.)

Gather clothes and put them on in the bathroom.

Check weather. 44° in Gryffindor currently, with a high of  68° at 3:00 PM.

Water bottle. Earbuds. Phone, wallet, keys.

Head out at 4:50.

Turn on your tracker.

Run.

It was cold, colder than it had been all week. They'd had a bit of a second summer the week before and now it seemed winter was fast approaching, even with all the tourists coming to New England for all the gorgeous fall colors. If the weather continued like this, Finn would need a gaiter for his face by November 1st.

His shoes hit the pavement in his warmup mile to the BeeGees and ELO. He left behind their house-- their house oh my god they have a house together and a mortgage and a water bill-- and approached the park only a few blocks away. Picked especially for easy walks with future little ones. Across the sprawling grass, Finn noticed a silver sheen sparkling under the laplight as he ran along the swaying trail. First frost, October 19th, two days earlier than last year. He'd have to tell Logan when he got home, he and his sisters tracked that sort of thing.

Warm up mile.

Change playlist, then 5 more miles.

Pause and stretch, consider which cafe to stop at to pick up breakfast-- or did Leo have plans?

Decide to stop in at Java Hut during the cool-down mile on the way home to get coffees and pastries. Yum.

Remember to call Alex soon.

Give kisses to the boys.

Finn arrived home-- home!-- with caffeine drinks and treats and 10 miles done today and fished his keys out of his zipped jacket pocket.

“Give it a spin.”

“…I don’t want to.”

“Then put it back.”

“What if it’s the one?”

Remus’ entire face scrunched with a frown in the mirror behind her. “Lily,” he began, with as much concern as if she had just told him the sky was actually emerald green. “Why would you buy a wedding dress you don’t want to spin in?”

“He’s right,” Natalie chimed in, swirling her rosé with a critical glance over Lily’s skirt. “You deserve better.”

“What if—”

“Literally your one requirement was to be able to spin, babygirl.”

Lily studied herself in the mirror again. The dress was pretty and creamy and light around her legs. The bow at the back wasn’t bad, perhaps a little oversized, but that could be fixed. It was already five o’clock, anyway. Two hours should be more than enough time to find a wedding dress.

“You don’t like it,” Remus said gently.

“No,” she sighed. “Not that much.”

“Then try a different one.”

Natalie brightened. “Yeah, what about that off-the-shoulder number? With the sweetheart neckline?”

Lily tipped her head back and forth. “My tits were falling out.”

“Exactly.”

“You do love when James makes a fool of himself,” Remus added.

The fabric slid in a smooth cascade beneath her palms. Probably damp palms. Was it alright for her to touch this fabric when she was nervous? Why was she nervous, anyway? It was her wedding. Her James. Natalie was right—she deserved the dress of her dreams. Lily knew her dreams better than anyone else and always had, through Petunia, through her Master’s, through a whole-ass baby. A dress should be the easiest thing in the world to choose.

“You liked the flowers, right?” Remus suggested, picking at the edge of his phone case. “On the…what was it, the third one?”

“The fourth.” Natalie nodded. “That’s the one with the sweetheart neckline.”

It was a nice dress. And she did like the florals. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Never mind.”

“What?”

“You’re not getting a ‘yeah, I guess’ dress,” Natalie said firmly. “Fuck that. You’re getting an ‘oh my god, I love this, I’m going to make every single guest cream their pants when they see me’ dress.”

“I—”

“What did you like about them?” Remus asked. “The other dresses.”

“I…” Lily trailed off. Her raw inner lip pinched when she nibbled at it. Jesus, her palms really did feel fucking soaked. “I don’t like this fabric. Or the bow. I liked the flowers from the other dress, but I want them smaller. The buttons on the bodice were nice.”

“Remind me what the bodice is?” she heard Remus whisper.

“The top,” Natalie whispered back before raising her voice again. “How about you take that thing off and we look together, hon? Three pairs of eyes are better than one.”

The surge of relief in her belly was a surprise, but not unwelcome. Lily examined the way it lay against her thighs for a moment longer before pursing her lips. “I don’t know, you guys have better things to—”

Immediate protests—far too loud for the pristine establishment—burst from both. “I’m not listening to that,” Remus warned. “Nuh-uh. This is a Lily day and I have the calendar invite to prove it.”

Natalie watched her in the mirror with a dangerous arch to her eyebrow. “You gave me rosé, my hot bestie, and pretty clothes to look at. Don’t take this from me. Now, tell us where to go and we will be your little wedding minions for as long as your heart desires.”

Lily loved her. Dearly. She glanced back once more and caught Remus’ eye, and his encouraging smile. “Calendar invite?”

“Midnight to midnight, Evans.”

“Florals, buttons, and something I can sweat in. Oh, and spin.” She shook her head. “Why did I pick a July wedding?”

Natalie stood and placed her hands on Lily’s shoulders, leaving them nearly eye-to-eye with the help of the pedestal beneath her. Her palms were pleasantly cool on Lily’s overheated skin. “Because you can’t fucking wait to marry James Potter, you utter legend.”

--

Two hours.

Fourteen more dresses.

Lily rolled a fine satin petal between her fingertips, dragged her palms up her waist, down over her belly, across the swell of her thighs. The pale green chiffon faded to blush and back in loose waves over the solid ivory beneath. She rested her weight on her other side and followed the tender shimmer where the light caught each movement. The straps were broad, yet elegant—fawn-colored buttons tracked from the valley of her chest to the top of the skirt, where small flowers had been stitched in rows that dripped through the folds like warm candle wax.

“She looks so fucking gorgeous, I’m gonna cry.”

“I know. Jesus. That’s gotta be it.”

“Did you find that one?”

“Mhmm.”

“Nice, Lupin. Hook it up.” A soft high-five interrupted their muttering. “Can you pick out my wedding dress?”

“Propose to Bliz first. Then we can talk.”

“What do you think?” Lily called over her shoulder. She didn’t bother looking away from the mirror; she looked too good for that.

“Stellar as always, Lils,” Remus answered with a firm thumbs-up.

“Creaming myself as we speak,” Natalie chimed in. “Honestly, babe, you’re beautiful beyond belief. The dress just makes it even clearer.”

She gave a little sway to watch it ripple around her ankles—Remus’ sharp whistle made her jump, though it soon turned to laughter. He drummed his hands on either side of the armchair. “Come on, come on, do the spin—oh, there she goes!”

Natalie whooped. “Throw that ass in a circle, baby! You and me are getting down at that reception.”

A blush heated Lily’s face and neck as she laughed, still spinning, but it looked—fuck, it looked so pretty when Lily caught herself in the mirror again. The dappled colors of the dress warmed her away from fire-engine red, highlighting the pinks of her skin and auburn of her hair where it fell over her shoulder. I want pictures of this, she thought. I want a photo album of pictures where I’m in this dress, and I want James Potter to cry when he sees me in it. “I look so hot right now.”

“You so do,” Remus agreed. They were both leaning forward in their chairs, hands clasped. Lily briefly imagined asking them to find her another dress, just to watch them goggle at her.

But she wasn’t sure she’d take this one off for a million dollars.

“Is it…” Natalie pressed her lips together, eyes gleaming. “Lily?”

She was nodding before the words even began to come out. “This is my wedding dress.”

“Yes!”

“This is my fucking Stanley Cup, oh my god.” Natalie held both hands to her cheeks and turned to Remus, bouncing on her toes. “Oh my god, oh my god, wedding dress—”

“Wedding, wedding, wedding, Lily don’t you dare make us celebrate without you—”

Lily laughed and gathered the skirt up off the floor; it was only a short step to the ground before they were on her with all the force of an ecstatic hurricane. Natalie’s arms were a vice around her waist while Remus held them both and pressed a smacking kiss to the top of her head. She hoped this bodice had proper boning, because her chest was simply going to explode with the light radiating inside her.

“I’m so happy for you,” Remus mumbled against the side of her head. “And I’m so excited, and you look so pretty, and I’m so proud of you.”

Natalie was there in half a second to brush her thumbs over Lily’s cheekbones and ease the lump in her throat. “Look at you,” she whispered, beaming. “Look at you!”

“I know.” She laughed again and it came out a bit choked. Natalie made a small, sympathetic sound as Remus pulled a pack of tissues from his back pocket, but Lily waved them off with a few fast blinks. “God, it’s—happy tears, I promise. I’m so happy. Can I get married tonight?”

“Yes,” they chorused.

Remus nodded, still offering the tissues. “Say the word, I’ll call James right now. I think he wanted to get married the night of the Cup.”

“Only took him eight years to ask,” Lily grumbled.

Their burst of laughter made several people across the store glance over, reducing them to hushed giggling in the best huddle Lily had ever been part of.

--

Soft, pastel thread bumped beneath James’ thumb as he ran it along the cuff on his suit. The pockets and lapels held much of the same—microscopic flowers, leaves, and patterns stitched into matte black fabric under Lily’s incredibly cryptic guidance.

“Looks damn good.”

“Ahblahablah!”

James tilted his shoulders this way and that. There had to be some square inch he was missing. Nothing in the world could possibly be this right. Then again, he was marrying Lily Evans, and that was pretty damn perfect. “D’you think her dress matches the suit?”

Sirius’ eyes flickered to the ground for a half-second. “…probably.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Maybe.”

Something in James’ stomach gave a funny swoop. A Lily swoop. “How did she look?”

“Hello MTV, and welcome to my crib.” Remus paused, then turned to Julian. “Do you understand that reference?”

“No.”

“That’s so depressing. Why are you so young?”

“Why are you so old?”

Remus wrinkled his nose and turned back to the camera. “Welcome to a new installment of Lion Pride’s baking series. I’m Remus Lupin, and I’m here today with my little brother to make everyone’s favorite breakfast food—”

“Pancakes.”

“—cinnamon rolls.” Remus frowned down at where his brother was kneeling on a stool and rocking gently back and forth. “You knew that. We practiced.”

Julian arched a brow at him. “My favorite breakfast food isn’t cinnamon rolls.”

“Not everything is about you.” A light poke to his forehead made Julian stick his tongue out. Remus stifled a smile. “You ready?”

“To eat a spoonful of icing? Duh.”

“We’ll get there eventually.” Remus pulled a large ceramic bowl from the collection of dishware to his left; the pattern was faded around the rim from years of use, but the bowl itself was shiny and clearly cared-for. “Alright,” he began. “I’m not a huge baker, but Jules and I grew up with Saturday cinnamon rolls, so this is a bit of a family recipe. Someone is probably going to type it up for you guys since my handwriting is iffy—”

“Literally unreadable,” Julian coughed.

“Shut up. The recipe will be somewhere on the Lion Pride website, or linked in the description below. In the meantime, we’re going to do a step-by-step demonstration for anyone who would like to try this at home. Milk?”

Julian passed the half-gallon over before looking to the camera. “This recipe is also going to be on our mom’s Instagram, if you look up ‘baking with Hope’. All one word, no caps.”

Remus snorted as he measured the milk into a pan waiting on the stovetop. “Nice. Love the shameless plug.”

“I made a bet with Dad that she’d have more followers than you by the end of the year.”

“Of course you did.” Remus shook his head, but it was more fond than anything. “We’re measuring a cup of milk into a pot on the stove, and then we’re going to warm it up until there are tiny bubbles on the sides.”

“That’s called a simmer, for anyone watching,” Julian informed the camera.

“It’s called bubbles, for the rest of us plebians.”

“What’s a plebian?”

“You.” Remus took a whisk from a small bowl on the side and stirred gently. “Timing for this step kind of depends on your stove, so just keep an eye out and make sure it doesn’t burn. We’re going to keep the milk at the small bubble stage—”

“Simmering.”

“—for….a minute? Ish?” He shrugged. “Until it steams. Then we’ll turn the heat off and measure out a third of a cup.”

Julian pushed his elbows onto the countertop, leaning over to watch. “You should tell the people we’re doing this at night.”

“What? Oh, yeah, this is an overnight thing. It’s currently…” Remus squinted to something off-screen. “Just before eight in the evening. We’re going to let the dough rest overnight, then finish in the morning.”

“We’re staying over for the P-L-A-Y-O-F-F’s,” Julian said. They reached down to knock on the cabinets in unison with near-identical grins.

“We deserve some cinnamon rolls.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Ew, don’t swear on camera.”

“That’s not swearing.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and gave a threatening shake of the whisk. “If you drop a swear word right now, I’m hitting you with this. That’s a promise.”

“You’re the one that taught me all the swear words!”

“So not true.” Remus stirred the milk once more, tapping the whisk gently on the side of the pot. “Dad is responsible for at least half. Okay, this has been bubbling for a little while, so I’m going to turn the heat off and pour about a third of a cup into the bowl over here. Then Jules is going to add some flour to the main pot and give it a stir.”

Julian took the whisk from him with unbridled glee and dumped the flour in; Remus held the pot handle for him while he mixed, still leaning on the countertop to adjust for height. “It’s getting thicker,” Julian noted with a glance at the camera. “It’s kinda like…paste? Or Nutella.”

Remus’ mouth twitched with a smile. “Nutella is a paste.”

“Nutella is a butter.”

“It’s literally hazelnut and chocolate paste.”

“Butter is just milk paste.”

“That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me,” Remus laughed. “God. Okay. Once your milk and flour looks thick like this, you’re going to add it to the big bowl with the other milk in it and add some cold water so your rolls aren’t messed up.”

“That was so scientific,” Julian said dryly.

“This is a lot of criticism from a kid that doesn’t even like cinnamon rolls.”

“I like them. They’re just not my favorite.”

“Then you’re lame, and I don’t want to hear it.” Remus clapped his hands on either side of the bowl and looked into the lens. “Wow, this is going to take forever. I’m not a baker. Bear with me. We’re adding three eggs to the bowl and whisking that, which I’m going to do because I don’t trust people under the age of twelve with raw egg.”

Julian narrowed his eyes. “I’m coming back here in three days and cracking very egg you own.”

Remus smiled. “Happy almost-birthday. Anyway, the bowl is mostly cool now, so we’re going to add all that flour in here—yep, thanks, bud—and then a half-packet of yeast so it gets fluffy.”

“Why isn’t Sirius doing this? He’s better at baking than you are.”

“Wow.”

“He is!”

“You’re not getting a single bite of this frosting.”

“Don’t hide from the truth.”

Remus shook his head at the camera. “This was supposed to be a cute family bonding video. I’m going to mix this now, because apparently I suck at any kind of baking more complicated than that.”

“I didn’t say that, I just asked why Sirius isn’t doing the stuff he likes doing.”

Remus turned the hand-mixer to a lower, quieter setting and rested his hip against the edge of the counter. “How often does Sirius voluntarily get in front of a camera?”

Julian inhaled, then faltered with a grimace. “Hmm. Yeah. Never mind. He’s still better at it than you are.”

“You’re still not getting frosting.” Remus clicked the mixer a notch higher. “We’re keeping this at a pretty low setting so the dough stays soft, and we’re only going to let it run until the dough is one big lump. Now that that’s together, we’re turning the mixer off and covering the bowl with a towel for about five minutes while we get our sugar, salt, and softened butter ready.”

The camera cut briefly; when it returned, Julian was scraping fine crystals off the countertop into a towel Remus was holding over the edge. “Slight problem,” Julian said through a laugh. “Uh, we got a little bit excited about the sugar.”

“Oh, god, it’s getting all over the floor—” Remus straightened slightly and whistled. “Hattie! Treats!”

The house was silent for a moment before the sound of skittering paws reached the camera. Both Remus and Julian broke into wide grins, and Julian dusted his hands onto the floor so he could reach down and pet the pointed ears just barely visible over the counter edge. “Hi, baby,” he cooed, leaning over until he was mostly out of frame. “Aw, little vacuum cleaner. Is sugar bad for dogs?”

“She has eaten so much worse.” The inky tip of Hattie’s tail was the happiest metronome in the world while Remus dumped a small container of salt and sugar into the dough. “We’re going to blend this until the dough gets stretchy instead of lumpy, still on low speed, and—hi, honey, I don’t have anything in my pockets. I promise. No, you can’t eat my keys. There’s definitely still some stuff on the floor for you, though.”

A black nose appeared by Julian’s knee and he giggled as it wandered down the side of his pants, honing in on each pocket. Hattie sneezed when she reached his sock and gave the hem of his pantleg a light nibble. Julian beamed up at Remus. “Can I bring her home with me?”

“If you steal my dog, I’m donating you to Goodwill. Okay, this is going to go for about twenty minutes and they’re definitely going to speed that up in editing, so here’s the rundown: mix this for 20 minutes, add your butter in tablespoon chunks, mix it until the dough is soft, then let it sit on your counter for an hour before putting it in the fridge.”

“Why don’t we just put it right in the fridge?”

“Because the yeast would die.”

Julian’s eyes went wide. “Yeast is alive?”

--

The kitchen was much brighter when the video returned—the new camera angle allowed sunlight to stream in through the side window unhindered, as well as giving an unobstructed view of Hattie on the floor by Remus’ slipper-clad feet. Her yawn squeaked, pink tongue lolling, but her full attention was fixed on the activity above.

“It’s about eight in the morning now, hence the pajamas,” Remus informed the camera. “I took the dough out of the fridge about ten minutes ago, and you can see it’s close to doubled in size.”

Julian gave the bowl a mournful look. The cowlick on the side of his head matched Remus’ with frightening accuracy. “How long is this going to take?”

“You can go back to sleep once it goes in the oven. We’re going to do the filling right now, though.” Remus held a hand out; Julian passed him a crinkly plastic cracker sleeve. “These are airplane cookies. Or biscotti, or whatever the fancy name is. They have cinnamon roll spices in them because I’m too lazy to track down all the individual bottles from the spice cabinet this early. You can probably find them in the recipe. I don’t know. You can crush them in a food processor if you want to wake up your entire family, or you can just use a rolling pin.”

Remus set the sleeve of cookies on the countertop and handed over the rolling pin—one half-started “wait” and an enormous THUD later, both of them were frozen, staring at the ruptured end of the plastic sleeve where shards of cinnamon cookie had burst forth.

“Oops,” Julian whispered.

“Or,” Remus began. “You can give your little brother a rolling pin and kill two birds with one stone.”

“…my bad.”

Remus glanced at the ceiling. They were silent for a handful of seconds. “Honestly, dude, I don’t think anyone noticed.”

Julian muffled a laugh in the crook of his elbow and Remus turned away for a moment to compose himself, filling the kitchen with quiet snickering as Hattie cleaned up the few crumbs that had fallen onto the floor by her paws. Finally, Julian picked up the rolling pin and began gingerly crushing the rest of the cookies. “I’m gonna keep going until it’s kinda powdery, I think.”

“Good plan.” Remus shot a quick, small smile at the camera while he watched Julian work, brow creasing with the effort. “We’ve got a stick and a half of soft butter here when you’re ready.”

It didn’t take long; Julian carefully poured the crushed cookie into a bowl and folded the butter through with a faintly rainbow-tinted spatula. Remus took a pan from the ever-shrinking pile of dishes beside them and lined it with parchment paper, ripping the edges so they would fold nicely in the corners.

“Kay.” Julian tilted his head at the filling and nodded. “It’s smooth.”

“Sick. Scootch over, I’ll roll this out.” Remus tossed a small handful of flour onto the countertop before dumping the dough out, dropping a playful elbow to Julian’s side. “Ope, sorry.”

“You’re so mean to me.”

“Whatever. We’re going to make this into a rectangle so it’s easier, and it should be fine for rolling because it was in the fridge all night. I’m going to flatten this until it’ll fit in the pan. It’ll be…an inch thick? Half an inch, maybe? And then Jules, you’re gonna spread the filling over it.”

Julian frowned. “We’re cooking it flat?”

“What? Why would we do that?”

“You said it should be the length of the pan.”

“Yeah, so that all the pieces will fit.”

“Oh. That makes more sense.”

“We’re not making cinnamon pita.”

Julian tipped his head back and forth. “Doesn’t sound bad, actually.”

“You’re eleven, you’re basically a garbage disposal.”

“I’m basically twelve.”

“Three days.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Despite the back-and-forth, Julian tucked himself close to Remus’ side while Remus rolled the dough into an even rectangle, and spread the filling across it with intense focus. “Leave a little space on the sides to roll it up,” Remus suggested gently. Julian’s tongue poked out at the corner as he scraped the edge clean and gave a last sweep with the spatula before leaning away.

“Good?”

“Perfect.” Remus loosened the edge closest to him and began to roll it up with steady, methodical hands. “You want to go slow with this part, or else it won’t spiral. And once we get it to the end here, we’re going make sure it’s all nice and even before cutting. Uh, I’m using unflavored dental floss right now because that’s what I have, but you can use string or whatever. If you use a knife, you might squish the inside and get a wonky shape.”

“Dad uses fishing line.”

“Mhmm.” Their concentrated frowns matched while Remus slid the floss beneath the roll and wrapped it around, allowing the floss to slice cleanly through the dough. Julian buried a yawn in Remus’ shoulder and gave a slow, sleepy blink. Once the rolls were cut, they filled the parchment-lined pan to the edges. Remus cracked his knuckles and looked up at the camera. “We’re going to take a quick breakfast break while these double in size, and I’ll put them in the oven at 350 degrees for 15 minutes after that. We’ll see you for the frosting!”

“Your TV voice is weird.”

“Your TV voice is weird,” Remus mimicked, prodding him until Julian hopped off his stool with a laugh. “Go eat your Cheerios.”

The video sped through their break—Remus collected a few items from the fridge and returned to the counter to mix a handful of ingredients into a bowl. The pan steamed, the coffeepot bubbled, and Hattie waited dutifully by his side for her allotted bits of ham, hand-fed alongside a few Cheerios from Julian. The rolls went in and came out without a fuss as Remus finished the scramble and smiled to someone off-screen.

“Frosting,” he announced when the video returned to normal speed. “Super easy. Cream cheese, powdered sugar, vanilla. Mix it up, then add a stick of butter, because this recipe is delicious and also personally clogs your arteries. Jules, touch the rolls for me.”

“Why?”

“To check if they’re cooled down.”

“But they might be hot.”

“Right, which is why I’m making you do it.”

Julian scrunched his nose at him, but gave the rolls a tentative poke. “They’re fine.”

“Sweet.” Remus tugged the pan to the middle of their workspace and scooped a lump of frosting into the center. Overall, it kept its shape as he slathered it to each edge and corner. Julian gave an expectant look; Remus paused, but scraped the last bits off the sides of the bowl and handed the laden spatula to him with an affectionate roll of his eyes. “Don’t tell mom.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jules said around a mouthful of thick sugar.

Remus pushed the rolls toward the camera with a smile that dimpled one cheek. “That’s all for today, folks. Hope you enjoyed making cinnamon rolls with us, or at least enjoyed seeing the real star of the show—”

“Me.”

James raises an eyebrow.

“You named him what?”

“Wolfe for short,” Sirius says, scratching behind Remus' ears.

It’s heaven, and Remus only yowls slightly at the choice of name.

“Why are his legs so short?”

James grabs one of his paws, inspecting it gently. He isn’t perturbed when Remus extends his claws and swipes.

“I think he might have been the runt of the litter.”

Remus meows, indignantly.

Just because he’s not a Maine Coon, or a freakishly large animagus, doesn’t mean he’s small. He’s perfectly cat sized, and Remus is sure that next to Professor McGonagall he’d look completely normal.

“Curliest cat I’ve ever seen, too.”

Sirius beams down at him, and Remus has a feeling that communicating that he is not, in fact, a loveable stray for Sirius to take care of, but an entire human being with an impossible crush on an impossible boy, would be a difficult task.

—

Sirius takes Remus everywhere. He’s escorted to breakfast, where Sirius and James try to coax him into catching bits of meat out the air, unsuccessfully. He drinks milk out of a small bowl, steals Lily Evans toast, and contemplates how to survive as a vegetarian feline.

“Bacon?” Sirius offers.

Remus turns his nose up, whiskers twitching. He can see his own tail in his peripheral swishing irritably.

“Are we sure he’s not a kneazle?” James asks, snorting.

“Bit small for it.”

Remus finally gives into the urge, sinking his teeth down into Sirius’ waggling finger. The howl of outrage is worth the grease that gets wiped down his fur.

—

They head to charms, next.

Sirius hexes Emmeline Vance for trying to conjure him into a bonnet, and Remus spends the next hour lounging in the sun, listening to Flitwick lecture, his high voice oddly irritating.

It’s all a little too much. Sirius, for one, is actually taking notes. Remus would call it a miracle, but he’s still unsure if this entire week has been an extensive delusion. The lack of attention is highly rude, and Remus, without really thinking, bats at Sirius’ inkwell until it slides right off his desk, shattering into expensive pieces on the ground.

Remus does recall that Sirius had his calligraphy set sent in from Italy, but it’s more of a distant thought. He’s busy, lazing on the desk while Sirius glares and vanishes the mess.

He’s tall and lean. He has long, dark hair falling elegantly over his piercing silver-grey eyes and a bright smile on his handsome face. He has a duffle bag thrown over one, remarkably broad, shoulder.

“Uh..” Remus says eloquently.

Dora, who was also eyeing the man appreciatively, turns to look at Remus with a knowing smirk.

The man just smiles at Remus. “I believe we’ll be camp counsellors together!”

Remus blinks. “I thought I was paired with Harry’s dad?”

“Ah, yes.” The man runs a hand through his hair. “James has fallen ill, I’m afraid. He asked me to cover for him. I’m Harry’s godfather!” He holds out his hand. “I’m Sirius. The star.” He pauses for a moment, before quickly adding “I mean written as the star! God, can you imagine?” He chuckles. “One Calvin Klein photoshoot and I’d go around introducing myself as ‘the star’. No, I promise it hasn’t inflated my ego that much!”

“I’m Remus,” Remus replies, making a mental note to do a Google search for the most recent Calvin Klein add the moment he gets home.

“Nice to meet you, Remus!” Sirius replies. “James told me you were supposed to share a tent? I hope you won’t mind sharing with me?”

Remus swallows, his throat suddenly a little dry. “No, I don’t mind. Not at all.”

“Great!” Sirius beams at him. “Then we’ll be getting go know each other pretty well the coming week.” He gives Remus a wink, and it should probably be cheesy, but when Sirius does it, it’s just damn attractive.

“Oh!” Sirius exclaims. “And I hope you like S’mores!” He pats his bag. “This is almost completely filled with just chocolate and marshmallows. I hardly brought any clothes,” he admits. “So it’s a good thing I’m probably going to be walking around in my swimming trunks all week anyway!”

“Yeah,” Remus manages to say. “Good thing indeed.”

“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Sirius says. “I promised James I’d embarrass Harry by loudly telling him his father sends him lots of love and kisses in front of all his friends. See you in the bus?”

“Uh-huh,” Remus says. He watches Sirius walk away, trying to wrap his head around the sudden appearance of a gorgeous Calvin Klein model who will be around him in only his swimming trunks all week and also share a tent with him, while bringing loads of chocolate.

“Couldn’t find a book, someone laughed at me,” he said and winced at himself. Great, now he sounded like a whiny baby, and a stupid one at that.

A crease appeared between Black’s eyebrows and the smile vanished. But only for a moment before he glanced at the still open tab on Remus’ phone he was holding in his hand.

“You looking for that?” he asked, nodding at the book featured on the website, telling him where said book was located in the vast library. Or supposedly doing so, if someone was not a complete failure at finding one’s way between all the numbered shelves.

Black didn’t even wait for an answer before heading straight for a nearby shelf – not the one Remus had stood in front of like an idiot – grazing his tattooed fingers and polished nails along the spines, before pulling one out. He was obviously having no problems with the library’s numbering system and Remus was jealous. He didn’t even have to glance at it twice while Remus had been standing in front of the wrong shelf for half an hour. If Black thought he was stupid, he didn’t mention it at least.

“Thanks,” he mumbled quietly, moving to take it, but the other man pulled it back in the last second to hold it out of his reach.

Remus’ stomach instantly plummeted, filling with dread at the anticipation of being publicly made fun of. And by his crush of all people.

“You can have this,” Black said then, grin growing wider, “but only if you give me your number and promise to go out with me.”

Remus stared.

Black grinned, book still held up out his reach.

If it was a joke, it was a very cruel one. Remus had seen him around, always with his mates, always loud and arrogant, laughing and tossing his hair, talking and poking fun at people. And even now, throughout their conversation, Remus had made an effort to keep his voice down while Black decidedly hadn’t. From everything Remus knew about him, he wasn’t a very kind or considerate person. From everything Remus knew about him he could be a bully, despite the man’s grin showing no sign of malice as far as he could tell. Though, perhaps he was just a really good actor and Remus wasn’t that good at reading people.

Remus had bad taste, that’s what he had kept telling himself whenever he couldn’t stop looking and thinking and dreaming, even after Black had long left his sight.

His heart was hammering in his chest, and he was starting to feel dizzy.

Remus turned around on the spot and walked off.

“Woah, hey.” A hand grabbed his arm to hold him back and Black planted himself right in Remus’ way to keep him from leaving. The cocky grin had vanished and made way to a frown.

He held out the book for Remus to take and he did after a moment of consideration, Black letting him this time.

“Sorry,” the other man said, and actually did look sorry so that Remus now felt like the arsehole. He also made no move to get out of Remus’ way. “I just thought you’re cute, that’s all.”

Black called him cute and his heart was racing even faster.

“Am I not your type, did I read that wrong?” he continued. “It’s just I’ve seen you around and I thought you were looking. I’m not usually wrong about these things.” His mouth tugged upwards at the corners in a self-assured smirk.

“Keep it down, will you,” someone grumbled from where they were working at the desks, a few affirming grunts following.

Remus wanted to hide knowing that they’d been disturbing their quiet workspace and that everyone probably overheard the whole conversation, but Black did not waver or even let on that he heard.

“Here, let me give you my number so you can think about it.” He held out his hand and waited. The smile was back. But not the big cocky grin. This one was gentle.

Remus stared at it.

After a few seconds of waiting, Black huffed a laugh and reached into his back pocket instead, pulling out a pen. Then he took Remus’ arm and pulled his sleeve back so he could write on it. Remus was in a haze through all of it. All he could think about was how nice the other man smelled and how nice the hand holding his arm felt.

He finished with a flourish, only to then grin at him and wink. “Call me. Or text me if that’s more your style.”

And then he was gone. For a few moments Remus could do nothing but stand there and feel dizzy, before he realized people could still see him and probably heard and saw all of that, and he hurried out of the library.

When he finally found the courage to look at his arm, he was already on the train home. There was a number, and next to it: Sirius <3 CALL ME!!!

All of this was a bad idea. Even if it wasn’t a joke and Black – Sirius, his brain supplied, and that was a very pretty name befitting a very pretty person – actually did want to go out with him for some reason, he would find out how awkward and boring Remus was soon enough and leave him, and Remus would be crushed and heartbroken and never get over it while Sirius would already be fucking the next guy.

Maybe it was the heart or the three exclamation marks or the pretty, gentle smile he was still thinking about, but he saved the number to his phone (checking thrice to make sure it was correct) and sent a text before he could overthink it any further.

-

A few months later Remus was standing in front of a shelf in the library again, silently cursing out all these irritating numbers and people who liked numbers and society for using numbers everywhere and whoever invented numbers in the first place –

“Here,” someone held a book under his nose, a quick look at the title telling him it’s the one he’d been looking for.

“Ugh, how do you do that?”

Sirius shrugged and smiled, lazily leaning against the bookshelf. “Numbers are easy.”

“They’re really not. Why can’t they sort them by key words or the alphabet or something?”

He shook his head. “There are thousands of books here, numbers are easier. Anything else?” Sirius asked.

Remus took the book and put it on the stack on the floor with the others, checking the titles to see if he had everything he needed. “No, that’s it. Thanks.”

“Perfect,” Sirius replied and then he was turned around and pushed against the bookshelf, lips pressing against his.

He was pretty sure he let out an embarrassing noise he sincerely hoped no one heard since they were in a remote corner this time.

“We’re in the library,” he quietly mumbled against the other man’s lips once the initial shock had left.

“Ugh, I know, right. All these books turn me on.”

His attempt to stifle a laugh at that resulted in a snort which Sirius chuckled at into his neck. And then he kissed his neck, his full body pressed against his own, a hand moving under his jumper, another grabbing his arse, and Remus stopped trying to stifle laughter and stifle moans instead.

And then someone pointedly cleared their throat next to them.

Remus shoved Sirius away and pulled out a random book, reading the cover very interestedly. Heat creeped up his neck as the woman from staff made her way through the shelves to put back books, looking very judgmental. He never thought he would be one of those people being caught making out in the library. He hated those people.

"Hey, handsome." Leo jumped slightly at the arms suddenly wrapping around his waist, almost spilling the coke he was adding to Logan's drink. He put the bottle down, deftly screwing the lid back on before turning, leaning his lower back against the counter.

"You scared me," Leo laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Désole, Peanut. Could I maybe...make it up to you?" Reg drawled in a low whisper, pushing up onto his tiptoes to kiss him slowly, balancing using a hand on Leo's torso. With a surprised hum at the intensity, Leo cupped Reg's cheek to pull him in closer, another hand coming to support the small of his back.

"Knutty, if we could remember that's my little brother, that'd be great," Sirius called from the doorway of the kitchen, his voice carrying over the noise of the team party in the Cubs' living room. Leo just stuck a thumb up behind Reg's back before slipping his hand around to the back of his head, tugging him in as he slipped his tongue into his mouth. They pulled away with a wet sound, Leo stroking a thumb across Reg's bottom lip.

"You're forgiven," he mumbled, surprised, grinning when Reg laughed loudly.

"You're banned from wearing these shirts when you're party hosting," Reg replied indignantly, wrapping his arms around Leo's neck.

After glancing down at his shirt, which really would have just been a normal shirt if it wasn't for the obscenely tight fit. "Oh really? Why's that, hm?"

"Because you're a good host and won't agree to disappear upstairs with me," he pouted back.

Leo debated for a minute before leaning down and pressing a kiss just below Reg's ear, whispering into it softly.

"You know, there are two more hosts. No one would miss us if we slipped into the bathroom for a few minutes."

Reg pulled back to look him in the eyes for a moment. "You better be serious about that," he mumbled, sliding his hand slowly down Leo's torso after a quick look back at the doorway. Leo's eyes fluttered when Reg cupped him through his jeans, adding slight amounts of pressure as he groaned.

"Bathroom. Allez."

Doing a terrible job of not looking too proud of himself, Reg tangled his fingers with Leo's, tugging him along behind him. "Shit - one sec," Leo said, grabbing Logan's cup from the counter and sprinting into the living room to give it to him, that being the whole reason he was in the kitchen in the first place. Reg hovered by the door to the downstairs bathroom, trying to look inconspicuous. He had to stifle a laugh behind his hand as he watched Kasey desperately try and focus on the conversation he was having with Celeste and Logan. His main distraction came in the form of Alex, stood next to him talking with Finn and Dumo, tracing and raking his nails up and down Kasey's arm mindlessly.

"Hey, change your mind?" Leo swam into view suddenly, a smirk playing on his features.

"With you looking like that? I don't think so." They slipped silently into the bathroom, Reg rising up onto his toes to cup both sides of his neck and pull him down to kiss him.

"Tu es si joli," Leo breathed between kisses, his hands running down the strong planes of Reg's back to his ass, kneading the flesh roughly in his palms.

"Show me then." Leo slipped his grip slightly lower, holding the backs of his thighs and lifting him, pressing his back up against the door of the bathroom as his kisses trailed down to his neck. Reg's fingers tangled in his hair, tugging harshly as Leo's teeth nipped and marked along his skin. "Fuck me, baby."

He felt Leo grin wolfishly against his neck before he paused. "Fuck. We don't have lube in here."

"Don't need it."

Leo pulled away, looking up at Reg with a faux-annoyed look. "Fucking knew you and Tremz took too long to get ready."

"You try being in the same room as Lo while he's half-naked and see if you're not bending him over the nearest flat surface," Reg rebutted, giving him a knowing look.

"I'm guessing it didn't take much persuading for you to let him bend you over either," Leo whispered.

Reg hummed, shrugging noncommittally before tightening his legs around Leo's waist. "You three can be very persuasive when you want to be. Lucky for you there's no persuasion necessary today, I'm in the mood to be railed in a bathroom." Reg leaned forwards and sucked Leo's bottom lip into his mouth, laving his tongue along it and digging his teeth in before letting it spring back. Seemingly the last straw for Leo, he dropped his grip on the back of Reg's legs, lowering him gently to the floor before placing a palm between his shoulder blades pushing until he got the message and bent over the marble counter of the sink.

The coolness of it made Reg's breath catch before a moan slipped from his lips as Leo tugged down his waistband until it hooked under his ass. Leo groaned softly when his hard cock finally slipped from the tight confines of his jeans, slicking himself up slightly with spit, checking in with Reg quickly then pressing his tip against the still lube-slick ring of muscle.

''Dieu, how are you still so tight after taking Lo.''

'''S that a complaint I hear there, Knut?''

Leo huffed out a laugh that trailed into a moan when he bottomed out in him, his hips stilling as his eyes fluttered. The only thing stopping them from closing entirely was Reg's reflection in the mirror, his cheek pressed against the marble but tilted up to the mirror still as his brows pinched in the centre.

''I thought I specified that I was in the mood to be railed, non?'' Reg's voice sassed even as his grip was tight on the edge of the surface. Always one to give his boys whatever they asked him for, Leo took that idea and rolled with it. He pulled out and pushed back in once, making sure Reg's expression didn't waver with pain. It didn't.

His hand, that had moved back to rest between Reg's shoulder blades slid up to wrap over top of his shoulder, holding him there as he began pumping his hips furiously, biting his lip, well aware there was family right on the other side of the door. After pushing up to rest his elbows on the counter, Reg made eye contact with him in the mirror, cheeks flushed, eyes hooded as he already looked fucked out. He seemed to be struggling with this despite trying his hardest to keep his noises down. Moving quickly, Leo moved his hand again to wrap around and cover his mouth, surprised when Reg's eyes rolled back and he moaned loudly into his hand. Not being able to help being proud of himself, Leo went harder, hoping the sounds of their hips meeting weren't too loud but honestly not really overly caring when his boyfriend was moaning like that because of him.

When Leo's hips shifted as he shuffled his feet so he was more stable, he grinned and focused his thrusts more when Reg's hand shot out for something to grab but didn't find anything that wasn't flat surface; meaning his ended up with one hand gripping Leo's wrist tightly, the other pressed palm-flat against the mirror, his legs trembling. His moans were getting more and more discernible the more Leo's tip pounded against his prostate, making Leo lean down to mumble in his ear, his lips brushing the shell of it, his voice deep and hoarse while he made dead eye contact with him in mirrored surface.

''Gotta be quiet, remember? Can't have Cap knowing his baby brother's too needy for cock to wait a few hours.'' Leo broke off with a deep groan as Reg's walls tightened around him. ''Such a little slut, turning me on in the kitchen where everyone can see. Did you want me to just bend you over the counter right there? Hold my hand over your mouth to keep you quiet for me and fuck you in the corner of the room where anyone could walk in, hm? Voudrais-tu ça, mon coeur?'' Reg nodded as best he could, whimpering while a tear slowly slid down his cheek, Leo's thumb unconsciously swiping it away.

'''M gonna cum,'' Reg's muffled voice came from behind his hand.

''I know - I can feel you fucking milking me, sweetheart,'' Leo teased him, a cocky smirk on his face.

Reg resisted the urge to roll his eyes - this man and his fucking ego sometimes. Although, he supposed it was only annoying because he was right. Leo had a lot of skills but he had a few things he was an outright expert at (this being one of them) and Leo knew exactly what they were.

He could tell that Leo was getting close too, the hand that had been gripping the counter to keep himself steady moving to hold desperately onto Reg's hip.

''Shit, you take it so well. Take me just like that for me, darlin'. Cum for me, baby, c'mon,'' Leo encouraged when Reg mumbled senselessly, his eyes fighting not to roll back. With his grip on Leo's wrist tightening almost painfully, Reg came with a shudder and high-pitched whine, breathy moans slipping through Leo's fingers as he rode it out with Leo's still-moving hips. His walls flexing around him made Leo groan, deep and long in his ear. ''You're gonna make me cum. God, I love you,'' he mumbled, tucking his face into Reg's neck, hips stilling as he went completely silent.

They caught their breaths for a minute, Leo staying with his forehead in his neck, Reg leaning heavily on his elbows. ''You think people have noticed we disappeared yet?'' Reg spoke; his tone was joking and tired.

With an equally exhausted laugh, Leo propped his chin on his shoulder and smiled at him in the mirror. ''I really fucking hope not.'' He gently cleaned up the cum that had dripped down Reg's thighs and tugged his boxers and trousers back up his legs with a small pat to his hips before doing the same to himself. ''Bon?''

''Parfait,'' Reg smiled, turning to wrap his arms around Leo's neck, leaning his body weight against his chest. ''Kiss.''

Complying, Leo scattered soft kisses to his lips. ''D'accord, allez.'' Reg slipped out before him, the two desperately trying to look like they hadn't just fucked. Leo met Logan's eye where he was leant back against Finn's chest, the pair talking with Alex and Nat - Kasey was there too, just not talking, more than content in his quite tipsy state to just remained tucked under Alex's arm with Nat stroking mindless circles on his lower back. Logan's greeting smile quickly turned into a look of mock-betrayal as he nudged Finn and nodded over to them. ''I think we've been discovered,'' Reg whispered to him.

Leo's arms snaked around his waist, his nose brushing the hair that curled above Reg's ear. ''Feel like teasing them?''

''Always,'' he answered immediately. He let Leo turn him in his arms, smiling when he slid his hands down to grip handfuls of his ass and pull him into him. Capturing Reg's lips in a sensual kiss full of tongue, Leo flicked his eyes over Reg's shoulder and looked at Logan first, then at Finn. He closed his eyes and slipped a hand up the prominent line of Reg's spine to cup the back of his head, guiding him to tilt it to deepen the kiss.

''Nutty! My brother!'' Sirius' voice echoed, trying to sound mad but breaking out into laughs when everyone else did too at his bantering.

He pulled away, heading over to join their boyfriends.

''Remind me to use the upstairs bathroom,'' Alex faux-whispered to Nat, a teasing smile playing on his lips. Leo tried sputtering an excuse before he gave up, seeing even Reg look up at him with a grin that told him there was no chance they'd believe him.