Your friendly hazelnoot analyst

“Nat,” he called softly, making her look up from her phone. “Going to the store real quick. Need anything?”

Her brows furrowed, as she probably scrolled a mental checklist and wondering what was it that Kasey needed, but it was gone a second. She shook her head, and sent him a small smile. “No, thanks baby. Be back soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She blew him a kiss, that he caught, and then he was gone. He flew down the stairs and got into the car in record time.

The Gryffindor airport was busy with the long weekend in sight. Tourists flying in, locals allowing themselves a few days out. Kasey checked the time and terminal number for the third time, bouncing a little on his feet.

The big screen showing arrivals lighted up with the JFK-GYF flight. People started to come in from the doors in front of him, and he resisted the urge to get on his toes to see better. Alex wasn’t exactly difficult to spot anyway.

As if summoned, the redhead appeared, smiling and talking to a fellow passenger. He didn’t spot Kasey right away, and this gave the goalie a moment to just look at him. It had been a while without a screen or his hockey mask in between them. Kasey distinctly felt the temperature in the room rise, the day becoming sunnier and, sue him, life turning a little sweeter. Alex looked good. The freckles that invaded his face and shoulders were turning more visible again, and he was wearing a sweatshirt that would probably end on Kasey or Nat in the next hour. Messy auburn hair was kept back by a backwards cap, and the worn backpack, the only thing he bothered to prepare for weekends in Gryffindor, was eased on a broad shoulder.

He came to an alt, still talking to the fellow passenger, and shook his hand with a big smile and one last pat on the shoulder. Then he turned, the attentive gaze he always wore on the ice as he led a puck towards the net, now looking for Kasey. His eyes softened the moment he found him, and Kasey felt the urgent need to whisper I missed you, I missed you, even feet apart. Alex would know. The space in between them had to know. Alex reached him in long strides, then engulfed him in a tight hug. Strong arms found his shoulder blades as Kasey’s automatically curled around his neck.

They stood like that for a while, absorbing the other’s presence and swinging slightly, letting the busy flow around them clear out a bit. Alex let out a happy hum against his ear, tightening the hug for a few seconds. Tense muscled finally finding peace. They parted, only for Kasey to find a bright smile, all for him to lean over and kiss gently.

“Hm, happy to see me,” Alex mused, a finger stroking Kasey’s cheek lightly.

“I’m always happy to see you,” he retorted, making Alex chuckle and nod.

“I know you are. Lead the way, Winter.”

They walked to the exit of the terminal in silence. Kasey’s two-inches advantage was perfect for Alex to keep his head on the blonde’s shoulder, an arm around his back, as the goalie took the backpack from him and swung it on his other shoulder. Not because it was heavy -Alex had probably thrown in only a t-shirt and a snack as usual, everything else he might need already at their loft. But Kasey could. It was sensational.

“Made another friend on the plane?”

“Yeah, Juan. Great guy. He’s vising his family for the weekend. Owns a fusion restaurant in Soho, made me promise we’d go sometimes.”

Kasey hummed, suppressing a smile. Every time Alex sat next to someone for more than five minutes, he would make new friends. The goalie could still recall Agnes, an old lady they’d met on another plane that ended up giving them half the muffins she’d baked for her grandkids. That had been a few years ago, and Alex still had semi-regular coffee dates with her.

“We will.”

Kasey slid the key into the keyhole carefully, trying not to make a sound. He and Alex got into the loft quietly, stopping for a second to listen, but the house was quiet. Natalie was still sleeping. They lost their shoes, a satisfied hum coming from Alex, as if to say here I am, as he tiptoed his way to the kitchen. Kasey followed him, and smiled as the other man opened his backpack. Of course. He began to take boxes and boxes of the butter cookies from the boulangerie at the corner of his apartment. The ones that Natalie loved and had for breakfast every time she visited.

Alex smiled back at him with a raised eyebrow, and his hand emerged with three more boxes, colorful tins and elegant letters. He shrugged, looking down at them.

“Went to this Russian bakery in the West Village, and the owner said-” he cleared his throat, putting a terrible Russian accent on, “-oh, your tea-lover boy must try this. Give you some blends, you come back for more.” He snickered as Kasey shook his head fondly and studied one of the boxes. Bergamot and cinnamon. His favorite blend. “I don’t think it was a suggestion. Sounded more like a threat.”

Kasey didn’t try to hide a smile as he examined the other tea tins. He couldn’t, not really. You talk to people about me. Alex was a black coffee drinker, and only indulged in tea when Kasey was having it. Kasey could see him, leaning on the counter of a bakery, talking to a huge Russian man about his boyfriend and how he only drank tea, not coffee.

Kasey didn’t know what to say, so he tilted his head and opened an arm for Alex to fit under. And he kissed him, sweet and slow, because the weekend was long, and they had all the time in the world, and Alex talked about him to Russian bakers. They took their time, one of Alex’s hands going for his hair and drawing a happy sound from Kasey, who slid on one of the stools by the counter. Even after they parted, they stayed there, recharging with the other’s presence, reminiscing of times when all that could only have been a bitter fantasy.

Kasey looked for those sweet brown eyes, and passed a gentle finger under one of them, absorbing Alex’s soft smile and gentle hands on his hips. He just looked, trying to convey what he was feeling. I love you. I love how you put your love for us in every action. Thank you for the teas. I feel so lucky to have you. I didn’t think I’d ever get to have you like this.

“I know,” the redhead murmured, leaving a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Me too.”

They spent another few minutes in a soft hug. Swinging in silence, hands moving in circles on the other’s back. Kasey focused on the shoulder he’d watched get slammed against the boards during the Rangers’ last game. It drew more than a few relieved sighs from the redhead melting against him.

At some point Alex parted to squish his cheeks. Kasey indulged him and all the Baby, Baby cheeks, Sweet Snowflake, Winter Seal he received, letting him do. It came to an end when Alex patted his chest a few times, then stood straight.

"We didn't hide the whole visit to Natalie only for her to walk on us cuddling in the kitchen," he claimed. "Let's go, Sweet Storm."

The shades were still submerging the room in a dark and drowsy silence. Kasey could still see Alex’s smile as the man slid next to the bundle of blankets and pillows that still hadn’t moved and threw an arm around Nat’s waist.

He began to move slow circles on her back, delicate but firm enough for her to stir a little, drawing a soft hmm from under the plaid. Alex put a finger on his mouth, and Kasey got the message, crossing the room to sit quietly at the other end of the bed, facing Natalie.

Alex continued his strokes, solid and warm against her back, and when she mumbled hm, Kase, they both hid their laughs in their hands. The stirs grew more impatient, until a blonde cascade of messy hair appeared. A dark eye peeked in the direction of Kasey. He smiled, stroking her cheek.

“Hmm, Kase, keep doing that,” she mumbled, reaching for the hand on her back and bringing it around her waist again.

Alex’s eyebrows shot up in amusement at the same time as Kasey’s, who snorted a laugh out. The redhead pressed more firmly to the girl’s back, and she kept his hand on her waist. The other shrugged, and they waited in silence for Natalie to become more awake and notice whose hand she was trapping.

She stirred a few more times, letting a happy hum out as Alex left a soft kiss on her shoulder, and then slowly began to open her eyes. She looked puzzled at Kasey, who was smiling, and her brows furrowed. Without breaking eye contact, she started feeling the hand on her waist, running her fingers up and down the forearm surer and faster.

She let out a sob. “No.”

“Yes,” Alex whispered back, leaving a peck behind her ear.

It was all it took for Natalie to scramble to a sitting position and jump on Alex, arms going tight around his neck. He grasped her back immediately, strong arms clutching the large t-shirt for a long moment. He buried his face in the nook of her collarbone as he eased them both gently in a lying position. He could hear her sob as she left a series of quick kisses  among his hair, and smiled against her neck.

“You fucker,” she sobbed, holding him in a suffocating grip. “When did you…how…Kase, did you…”

“Yep,” Kasey replied softly. He crossed the bed to fall into the arm Alex opened for him, and let out a happy hum against his chest. “Surprise.”

It took a while for Natalie to detach herself from Alex enough to form a sentence. “All weekend?” she asked as she passed a hand on her wet cheek.

Alex kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks before stroking them gently. “’Till Tuesday.”

That got another series of sobs out of Natalie, but it mixed with a watery laugh, that glittered more than every prize the two players could win.

.

.

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. 

Nat inhaled.

Bottles on the table—mostly. Repurposed jars held most of their previous contents, and those had been scattered to kingdom come since the night began. As they should be, of course. He could think of nothing worse than a mediocre solstice party. Awkwardness was born and bred in the cliquey little huddles of a party gone wrong.

Nat exhaled.

None of that, now. The house was still standing. People had fun. Out-of-control spellwork had been kept to a dull roar, even after the firewhiskey made an appearance. He could feel, deep in his soul, that it had been a good night.

Glass chimed in the other room. Kasey, if Nat had to guess. That sound had the hallmarks of her careful handling all over it. Alex was somewhere on the stairs if the heavy footsteps were any indication. If she was untangling the streamers from the banister, Nat was going to…he didn’t even know, anymore. He had spent the better part of a year since Alex’s arrival in their little town trying to figure out what the hell was going on between his girlfriend and the gorgeous new girl, with naught but a spinning head to show for it.

They knew each other. Kasey had told him that much. The dulled gray-blue of her tone said more than words could.

Soft humming floated through the empty doorframe. The gentle rasp of Alex’s voice had such a lovely color to it, like fresh maple syrup or crystalline honey. It glowed against the jewel tones of the rest of her—rich, curling clues tucked in tight next to sparking reds.

Kasey’s braid caught the light when she turned, only just visible through the kitchen doorway. Nat had loved that about their house since the first day; so few doors to still the air. Something was always in motion, always making noise. He wished Kasey could see it—the brilliance of sound, the cool shades of her voice—but she just seemed to like it so much when he described it.

And maybe that was something just for him to cherish. Their life clung to the ceiling corners like cobwebs. Words and music and laughter. A snippet of Kasey singing ‘happy birthday’ had been lingering in the dining room window since the summer.

“Winter!”

An electric blue comet zipped from the stairs to the kitchen sink.

“What?” came the mossy wave of Kasey’s answer.

“Knutty promised pastries for us tomorrow! She’s trying new recipes. Needs extra mouths.”

Alex would need more hands if she was trying to text Leo and clean at the same time. Nat gathered an armful of empty bottles off the table and dumped them into the recycling bin before turning to the staircase, where one sneaker-clad foot was barely visible through the slats in the railing.

“New recipes?” he asked.

Alex’s face popped into view. Still freckled, even in the dead of winter. Nat felt his stomach perform a funny little flip-flop over itself at her bright smile. “Oh, hey!”

Orange and gold fireworks, crackling about her head. “Thanks for cleaning that up.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Alex’s vague wave sent a curlicue of taupe his way. His mouth tanged with citrus when it reached him. “Least I can do.”

“None of the other guests stayed to help,” Nat pointed out, bending to collect a few paper crowns.

“None of the other guests are as gracious as me.” Her smile was quick and mischievous, but genuine. How often had Nat thought the same of its owner? “Get up here, Music Man. Where’s your solstice sweetheart?”

“Downstairs, with the dishes.”

Alex pulled a face that made her pointed nose wrinkle. “I told her I’d handle those.”

“Clearly it worked,” Nat teased. “Don’t feel too bad. You know how she gets around the solstice.”

A test. Just a teeny-tiny-itty-bitty maybe of a test. Alex’s fond smile was far and away the best answer. “Yeah,” she said, darting a grin toward Nat. “You’re a lucky one, Darcy. It ain’t easy being a seasonal delight.”

“I think she’s pretty great all year.”

“Good answer.”

It was times like this when Nat wondered if Alex could see what he saw. Or at least, if she understood. Dark topaz eyes ticked along the path of pensive purple.

Alex had been speaking in purple a lot, lately. He knew why. Even without his gift, he’d be a fool to miss the way she reached, hesitated, ached for Kasey now that their distance could be measured in inches instead of borders. It pulled at them both, torn edges of the past snagging on the present. He knew what it felt like to match himself to Kasey’s steady keel and let her draw him through her oceans. Alex spoke like someone who had swum those waters before, unafraid that Kasey would ever close the ice around her.

Nat…wanted that. For himself, and a laughed morning, Music Man held in golden parentheses, but more than that, for Kasey. She deserved so much. He could give so much. But if Alex had ridden out the storm and found harbor in Kasey’s heart enough to linger after all these years, Nat would be worse than a fool to let that fall away for his own sake. He could love them both.

Did.

Would.

“Nathaniel.”

“Alexandra.”

“You’re thinking at me.”

“You’re in love with my girlfriend.”

Alex’s hands never stuttered on the loops of ribbon. “Yes.”

Butter yellow. A pastel, more tender than her heavy saturation, but unyielding. “You didn’t stay here just to be a good guest.”

“No.”

Dandelion cradled in blush pink. “You’re in love with me.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t whisper. He didn’t know why he thought she would. Alex never whispered. She was far too vibrant for it to do any good. It didn’t matter if she was banging on their door to drag them out for a taste of Leo’s kitchen witchery or falling asleep on their throw pillows in her fox form—wherever Alex was, the world grew brighter.

“You should tell her,” Nat said.

“I won’t get in the way of what you have.”

“You won’t,” he agreed. It had lacked the fuzzy edges of a question, but that didn’t matter. Anything, as long as she understood.

“It’s—” The maroon undercurrent of her voice curdled mauve. Her gaze fell on him with the weight of a feather alighting on the water. “It was before you. I let her go. It’s okay.”

“Alexandra.” An old joke between them, perhaps too flirty for simple friends. Nat propped his chin on the end of the railing and made sure she was looking, really looking, before he continued. “I’m in love with my girlfriend, and I’m more in love with you every time you come by, and I’m pretty sure our solstice sweetheart has been head over heels for you since the day you met.”

Alex’s lips pressed together, but the smile ticking at the corners betrayed her.

“It seems like a waste to sit here and be sad on the stairs when Kasey Winter is in the kitchen and waiting for you to say something,” he finished quietly.

His heart should be racing. His stomach should be in knots, all aflutter the way it had been when he first asked Kasey out. But with Alex looking at him like she could hardly believe the marvel of her ears, he found only calm waiting.

“Yes.”

Crimson bloomed around the word. Alex was so sure of herself—Nat thought he might love that most about her, from not-so-sneaky tips stuffed into her sister’s café jar to her utter confidence that whatever new drink she brought to their doorstep would be the most delicious thing they had ever tasted. She was unfailingly correct. His eyes flickered to her mouth.

“What are you waiting for?” she challenged.

“Kasey first.” She deserved so much.

Alex’s smile grew, and she pushed herself up with a “don’t have to tell me twice” that flashed peacock through the stairwell. Peacock, like Kasey’s laughter on the first day of winter when her magic was thick and strong in her veins. Nat was pretty sure some part of his heart beat just to hear that sound and watch it coat their home.

He was already reaching for the ribbon where she left off when Alex’s hand closed around his wrist and dragged him after her. He couldn’t help a laugh and didn’t particularly want to—turquoise shimmered ahead of them where Kasey was singing along to the record player under her breath. What a thing to have waiting.

“Winter.”

Kasey looked up, a casserole dish held in both hands under the warm water. Her eyes darted between them; a golden brow arched. “What did you…”

It took two steps for Alex to close the distance between them. She shut the faucet off and took Kasey’s hands from the sink, holding her wrists between them without a care for the water dripping on them both. “Please?” came the lilac-soft request.

Any other time of year, and Kasey might have questioned it.

The solstice lined her in threads of gold and blue. Her cheeks were round and flushed pink with power, and her hands were steady despite the anticipation that quickened her breath when she looked to Nat, then back to Alex, then to Nat once more. “You spoke?”

“Yeah.”

Kasey leaned in and kissed her without a moment’s hesitation.

Nat watched Alex’s ribs expand to accommodate a deep breath in—tiny crystals of ice began budding in the water droplets on Kasey’s skin as she cupped her hands around the back of Alex’s head and exhaled, long enough for steam to billow up between them. It was kind of the season to let everyone else see how much of a wonder she was.

“Mmm, wait wait wait,” Alex hummed when Kasey began pulling away. She closed her hands around Kasey’s forearms without a care for the chill and kissed the smile from her lips in a burst. “Storm girl,” she whispered with periwinkle fondness that made Kasey blush. Her thumb traced the peony-pink of her cheekbones and Nat steadied himself on the countertop. “Gods and fae, I missed you.”

Nat loved her when she was a chattering fox on their couch, and loved her when she was tall and kind and warm in every word. He loved her when her booming reds mingled with Kasey’s mellow blue in harmony so perfect it struck him silent, just to listen and watch for a second longer.

“Nathaniel!”

Quiet nights were perfect for when sleep couldn’t seem to find Leo. He would silently make his way out of bed, careful not to wake Finn or Logan -who’d become only more sensible to one of them missing from his side with time- and join whoever was at the café that night.

Leo peeked in the kitchen to say hello to Amy, yet another chef assistant they’d hired. There hadn’t really been a need to hire her per se, because the café was only so big, and their staff was at full capacity. But she was a young mother and student who needed a job, and who were they to deny her that?

The long, full days and nights when it had been just the three of them managing everything were now a memory. But for how fondly Leo could remember those times, he was secretly glad that didn’t have to stand for longs periods in the kitchen anymore. His hip had begun to make itself heard, an injury from 2027 that hadn’t bothered him in a few decades and was now sporadically back. Go figure. Finn claimed it was normal.

Leo went to the counter to make sure everything was in place. He spent some time organizing new recipes and what to include in the spring menu. It was once he made his way to the vinyl recorder to put some background jazz on that he noticed one table was occupied.

A young boy was sitting there. A hand supporting his chin and a mildly resigned face in a sea of books and messily written math exercises. Oh, am I glad those days are over, Leo mused as he opted for some low, relaxing music instead so not to disturb him. He smiled at the boy, who looked up at him as he walked back to the counter, and received a small, shy wave of a hand in return.

Leo decided to let the kid study in peace, even if ‘peace’ wasn’t the word he would have chosen to describe the situation. He snooped from his cooking books from time to time, only to see the poor boy writing furiously or turning pages frantically. When the third long, suffering sigh filled the room, Leo decided it was time for him to step in.

He smiled when even his steps getting closer didn’t make the boy look up from the books, and gently cleared his throat. Two big, dark circles -oh, and some eyes, too- were on him as he took a seat in front of him, placing a fuming mug carefully away from his books, and offered a smile.

“Hey, I’m Leo. Care for an herbal? Chamomile and lavender do miracles for stress.”

The boy, after the initial surprise, accepted the cup with a thankful nod. A shy one, then.

“What are you struggling on?”

The boy bit his lip, a light red coloring his cheeks. “Maths.”

Leo made a face. “Aw, hun. I’m sorry, I’d help you if I were able to. But I’m gay, good at sports and I know how to drive. There was no place left for math.” The boy sighed again, shaking his head at the open books.

“I’m gay, too.”

“Oh, shoot.”

The next half hour saw Leo and the young boy, Helias, really trying to make sense of the numbers and letters mixing without apparent logic in the books. Four pages of failed exercises, two additional herbals and various swearwords later, Leo stated that enough was enough. That’s when he saw Logan’s messages. He was awake, as predicted. He dialed his number. 

A misty, heavy accented mumble replied seconds later. “Mon soleil,” he yawned. “Où are you? Ça va?”

“Hey lovey, I’m at the café. Tout va bien, I’m with Helias, we’re trying to do…calculi. We have a test tomorrow. Please come here and make it make sense?”

“J’arrive.”

Helias was quite worried about Leo calling his husband in the middle of the night to join them and help him with calculus. Sure, the friends that had introduced him to the café had mentioned the owners, ex-hockey players so sweet and helpful to make the whole neighborhood melt. But wasn’t expecting this. He tried to politely refuse, saying that there was no need, he really didn’t want to bother- who was he to make a grown man move in the middle of the night to help him with calculi, goodness. But the blonde man dismissed him with a hand, affirming that his Logan was already up and would have joined them in a matter of time anyways. And he never minded helping.

So, Helias let Leo push him on a beanbag as they waited, and he closed his eyes to soothing music coming from the vinyl recorder.

Logan arrived twenty minutes later, sitting down at the table covered in books and sheets of paper after a soft hug with his husband -Helias tried not to stare, he really did, but he’d never seen adult queer people interact in sweet domesticity as they did. Logan’s hair was messy, and his face was still drowsy with sleep, but he threw a reassuring smile at the boy as he took a pencil in hand. “Alors, let’s see what we have here.”

Slowly, things began to follow a logic. A contorted, full of exceptions and formulas logic, but a logic, nevertheless. Helias felt the lump of anxiety in his throat gradually detangle as he followed Logan’s patient voice through the equations. At some point Leo joined them again, with a mint tea and a kiss on the cheek for Logan, and a plate of oven-hot cookies that he placed in between them.

As the topics were covered and exercises began to be correct, Helias could feel a warm feeling expanding in his chest. It couldn’t be the sugar rush from all the baked goods Leo was filling the table with. No, it was something else. The way both men had not hesitated to help. Their untold understanding of each other and the kindness transpiring from every gesture. The way they always used we, we have a test tomorrow, we’re gonna try this method and see how it goes. The hands on one’s leg or shoulder and the feather-light kisses. Helias wanted that, someday. With a husband or two or three, it didn’t really matter. But he wanted that love and he wanted to help as he could, like they were doing.

When the clock reached two in the morning, Logan closed the books gently and looked at him in the eyes. Helias almost gulped when being studied by those eyes. They were tired, and small wrinkles framed them, but they were also deep, and intense. Helias hadn’t been warned that he’d need to get a grip in front of senior men in that café.

“I think you’re ready,” Logan nodded. “Now you need to catch a few hours of sleep to do well tomorrow, okay? Do you know how to get home? We can give you a lift.”

“I have my bike,” Helias replied noncommittally.

Leo shook his head as he placed a brown bag in front of him, raised eyebrow and hand on his hip. “Nonsense. You’ll come get it tomorrow, but it’s not safe this late, and you’re already falling asleep. Here’s something for breakfast tomorrow. Your brain needs sugars to give a top-notch performance.”

Helias wanted to cry a bit as Logan helped him gather his things and Leo went to the kitchen to say they were leaving. The drive home was silent with sleepiness and the warm air coming from the AC. In his exhausted state, Helias hadn’t remotely worried about accepting a lift from two random adults. But, he reasoned, if the ex-NHL players with a city-famous little business kidnapped teenagers, someone would have heard of it in all those years.

When they reached Helias’ house, both men turned to look at him, and the boy had to stop himself from pretending they were his parents, concerned and loving. At least not too much.

“You get home and sleep, don’t worry about the test,” Logan said gently. “You know everything you need to know. And it’s a test, anyways, so however it goes, you’ll do great because you did your best.”

Leo nodded, smiling softly. “And you let us know how it goes, yeah? It was a team effort.”

Coming from ex-NHL players, that phrase was something valiant and fierce.

Helias turned the lights off that night without a single worry about the test. He repeated himself what Logan had told him. You’ll have a long and full life, and you’ll remember nothing about this topic or the test. It doesn’t affect your life whatsoever. Tomorrow, you go to school thinking this. Except, he would forever remember that night. Even if math and formulas had nothing to do with it.

There was an old vinyl player in the corner, and a messy mountain of old custodies at its side. Finn and two girls were dancing chaotically to Abba’s, Leo smiling as he dried clean mugs behind the counter, but the moment Angel Eyes came up, Finn jumped the counter to come and get him to dance with them. The two girls laughed as they watched the two men swinging their shoulders in a well-coordinated choreography. Finn put a hand on Leo’s waist, moving them gently back and forth, nose against nose. Finn made him spin once, twice and ended it in a casqué, grinning, cheeks red with the dancing. Leo shook his head fondly, allowing a soft peck on the mouth from the man, before he was pulled up. His hip protested a bit, but it was fine. He went to sit on one of the stools by the counter and watched his husband mouthing the words of Dancing Queen with Aramiah and Elise.

When the last song slowly died down, they returned to the open books on one of the tables nearby. They had an English class to pass, after all. In the following hour, they did much of the work the two girls had been anxious about- Finn got on the table to recite Hamlet, explained everything they needed to know and made them analyze the texts on their own.

Leo supplied pieces of chocolate cake when they made another break.

“Whatcha making?” Logan asked, in a tone that was all Finn and made them both laugh. Leo smiled, a sweet memory on his lips as he chopped strawberries and put them in a bowl.

“Strawberry shortcakes.”

When Leo was met with silence, he raised his head to find Logan smiling at him smittenly, and he knew. They were both remembering the first time he’d made those for them. A smile so radiant, so happy and in love, after thirty years together, that made his heart ache. Leo could still see it all if he closed his eyes. The summer sun on their faces, wind, and splashes of salty water against their bodies. Him leading the motorboat with Logan pressed at his side, and Finn taking pictures and pictures and smiling so hard. Candle lights in the quietness of the bayou, kissing and feeling high on each other, on their first Cup, on their first summer together. Leo remembered feeling invincible.

The present Logan came to tuck himself under his arm, pressing his nose against his neck, just like he had all those years ago. Leo leaned to kiss the soft, greying curls.

Now those pictures were hanging in their hallway, together with many others. Logan had a copy in his office, and Leo had lost track of all the pictures crumpled in Finn’s wallet, almost round with yellowing polaroid’s. The café’s kitchen walls were full of smiling faces, too, because Leo liked to remember what had kept alive his cooking passion for all those years.

“Je me le souviens comme si c’était hier », Logan murmured, bringing a hand to Leo’s chest. I remember it as if it were yesterday.

“Moi aussi, mon doucet,” Leo smiled, putting the knife down to hug Logan properly. “Moi aussi.”

They remained in silence for a while, content in the embrace and reliving the memory. How many boat trips had followed. On their own, then with their kids, and with the team, at dawn and in the middle of the night to escape the heat of New Orleans. Leo sighed happily, tugging Logan closer, a sudden lump stuck in his throat. When he sniffed, Logan parted to bring a hand to his cheek, mesmerized green eyes studying him. But Leo only smiled, and when had that not meant that Logan would smile, too?

.

.

Sunlight yawned over the horizon. Logan ticked another day in his head. 52 hours. Nearly a new record. The last time he didn’t sleep for two days, he and Finn had just finished playing Yale.

At least the apartment smelled better than their dorm had. Leave it to Leo and Finn’s monthly Target dates to find the best candles.

His head hurt. His chest hurt. Even his fucking eyes hurt, like he had kept them open after diving into the lake. It was a miserable way to feel in an otherwise perfect place—but then again, very little had been perfect recently.

Leo stirred in the curve of his body, not much more than a twitch. He hadn’t been sleeping well, either. Finn was the only one able to keep his eyes closed for longer than an hour (if that) and even he was quiet during the day. Dawn caught their phone screens as it filtered through the sliver of the blinds, all lined up on the nightstand with ringers turned to the highest setting. Just in case.

Logan blinked hard and pressed back into Finn. He needed to feel something solid; needed to feel Finn shift, his arm tightening around Logan’s waist. Something between his lungs throbbed with blunt pain.

“We should visit today.”

Leo’s voice was dull and coarse. Logan nodded into the nape of his neck.

“I want—” He broke off with an audible swallow. “I want to check on him.”

Sirius had woken for nearly twenty minutes the day before. James had been there, and Remus, of course. Logan wasn’t sure they had left yet. Remus certainly hadn’t looked like it. But their excitement was momentary at best when Sirius’ sleepy greetings turned incoherent, and he slipped back under for the rest of the day. Logan shook the whole way home.

“D’accord,” he murmured, tucking his knees into the hollow of Leo’s own. His belly was tense under Logan’s palm; he rubbed slow circles over it and kissed the curve of Leo’s neck. “We’ll go.”

Finn’s alarm went off at eight. They let it ring itself out. Nine minutes passed and it went again, a cheerful jangle that faded into silence. Slender fingers curled up against Logan’s collarbone. Finn’s cheek was flat on his shoulder blade, shaky breaths passing warm air over his skin. He let go for less than a minute. The alarm didn’t ring again.

Leo had the courage to check his email at nine and Logan half-read it over his shoulder, little blue dots disappearing unread into “[Gmail] Trash” under a thumb with the nail chewed down to the quick. He kissed the little-dipper trail of faint freckles up Leo’s shoulder and nudged at his wrist until he set the phone down with a tired smile and allowed Logan to coax him onto his belly, shifting closer. His cheek was pillow-creased when he turned. They looked at each other for a few seconds before Logan passed his thumbpad along Leo’s cheekbone, and blue eyes fell shut.

They didn’t get out of bed until ten o’clock. Breakfast was a quiet affair despite the radio and the sizzle of the stove. “Someone should text Remus,” Leo said as he passed eggs to Logan to crack. “See if he needs anything.”

Logan fought a wince. Sleep. Therapy. For someone to physically remove him from that place. According to James, they had only just managed to make him take a walk around the upper floor of the hospital. He’d been sleeping in a chair. Logan hadn’t pressed for more information, and the guilt gnawed at his ribs. “We can bring…sandwiches. Or something. Maybe books? A change of clothes?”

“Toothbrush,” Leo suggested, prodding at the scrambled eggs. “That might be nice.”

Logan carefully sliced another section of the green onion before speaking. “James brought his toothbrush. And a hoodie, I think. I can ask what they need.”

“Are they letting him stay?”

“Loops?”

“James.”

“Non, only immediate family.”

“I’m so glad they got married.”

Logan turned and saw Leo do the same. Finn was rinsing his fingertips under the faucet, but nothing in his face told Logan he was paying any attention to it. The purple under his eyes was nearly mauve in this light. “Me, too,” Leo said softly.

“Just—can you imagine?” Finn cleared his throat, shutting the water off. “I mean, Loops would be losing it. Immediate family. I wonder if they’d call…y’know.”

Logan wasn’t going to think about that. He had been trying very, very hard not to think about that for nearly three days, now. None of them needed monsters under the bed when the real thing was bad enough on its own.

“Well, they didn’t,” Logan said briskly. The handle of the knife dug into his hand; he forced it into steadiness and moved the next handful of onion over. At the stove, Leo’s shoulders were tight up near his ears. “And we’ll go see him, and it’ll be fine.”

Sirius?

Hmm-mmm.

Buddy, can you hear me? It’s James.

Bonjour.

Tremz, call the nurse in real quick—hey, keep your eyes open. How are you feeling?

Mmm. Bon. Head hurts. Remus?

I’m here, I’m right here.

Tiny green shreds sprinkled onto their eggs, bright and clean. A ‘thanks, cher’ painted onto his temple by a kiss.

Alright, Mr. Black, let’s take a look at that forehead.

Non.

Is it hurting?

Game day. Pick up Reg from practice.

Mr. Black, please try to stay awake.

Baby, just listen—

Gotta pick him up. Reg’s practice.

“You want bacon?”

Logan blinked down at the plates. It all looked beautiful, like his mother’s wax fruit in the living room back home. “Sounds great.” He kissed Leo’s shoulder and dusted the last bit of green onion onto Finn’s portion. “Merci. I’ll get forks.”

A little shiver ran through Leo. He tucked his arms across his body, as if the apartment wasn’t set to seventy-five degrees year-round, but smiled down at Logan all the same. “Thanks.”

“Are you cold?”

“Nah, not really.”

Footsteps padded over and then Finn was there, tugging his sweatshirt off and slipping it over Leo’s head. If nothing else, it got a laugh out of him. Weak—but there. Finn’s glasses sat sideways on his face and Logan poked them back into place with a gentle swipe down the razor-straight bridge of his nose. “I made cocoa,” he said, raspier than Logan was accustomed to this late in the morning. “I’m not really—it’s not a coffee morning, I guess, but if you want some I can—”

His mouth fell quiet against the inside of Leo’s shoulder, muffled by his own hoodie. Logan saw his chest lurch in Leo’s tight hold. He felt a little dumb attempting to wrap his arms around them both and cursed his proportions for the hundredth time, but neither seemed to mind. Leo was still trembling just slightly. Finn was board-stiff; his hand came up and twisted in the pocket of Logan’s pajama pants to draw him close.

It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, and Logan was trying so hard to be angry.

Leo gave a light cough. “I’m really fucking scared.”

That first night, Logan had fallen asleep praying he would wake in his bed in Rimouski, buried under the heavy blue duvet he had stolen from Aubrey when she redecorated her room on her 13th birthday. It was old and soft and safe and lightly scented with the lavender soap their grandmother mailed from Nice every month. But his stomach had rioted at the thought of waking alone, the last ten years a dream. As horrible as this was, as sick as he felt, God would have to pry this from his cold dead hands before he gave it up. He wished he knew how to tell them that.

Finn was hot at the nape when Logan leaned against him. “We’ll eat,” he suggested, tracing a loose heart over Leo’s mid-back. “Breakfast looks amazing. We’ll shower. I’ll call James. They’re not going anywhere.”

“…I don’t want to get my hair wet,” Finn said quietly.

“I want to take a bath,” Leo murmured into the top of his head. “You can come with me.”

Finn nodded, then swallowed hard. “I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

“He won’t,” Logan said. When Finn didn’t show a sign of hearing him, he nibbled at the curve of his shoulder; a smile twitched his lips. “Hey. Hey. He’s got half the team there already. We’ll bring sandwiches and be popular, d’accord?”

“You need to be muzzled.”

“That sounds fun.”

Finn snorted, pushing at him without taking his face from the sanctuary of Leo’s chest. “Get outta here.”

“Come eat before the food gets cold.” Disregard that nothing sounded worse than eating right now. They had bigger things to worry about, and none of it would be made better on an empty stomach. But maybe, maybe they’d have a kinder day. And maybe Sirius would wake up for real this time. They just had to take it in stages, one baby step at a time.

One. Leo and Finn took a bath.

Two. Logan scrubbed the breakfast dishes.

Three. He tucked Leo close and tight to himself while they put the lunch order in on the couch.

Four. His kiss to Finn’s cheek lingered before his hand came anywhere close to the passenger side door.

Five. Remus was on the floor.

Sirius’ door was closed, and Remus was on the floor.

Logan pushed the takeout bag into Olli’s hands and broke into a run.

“What happened?” His knees smarted on contact with the tiles. Dumo was slackjawed and Remus was fucking white. “Loops? Is he okay? Did something go wrong?”

He’s gone, he’s gone, we lost him.

Someone was speaking, Leo was speaking, Remus was staring into the void like the world had fallen out from under him. His arm was loose and weak under Logan’s hand; he eased his grip and watched Remus’ throat bob. A breathless gasp broke from him before any words. “He doesn’t love me anymore.”

“No, Remus, that’s not…” Dumo looked exhausted. Sounded exhausted. Logan could feel himself beginning to shake, deep in his core where the fear snapped and burned. Deep brown eyes slid over the group before fixing Logan to the scrap of a planet beneath him. “Sirius is alright,” Dumo said firmly. “He’s awake and Pots is with him right now.”

Then why are we all on the fucking floor? he wanted to shout. The burning raced up Logan’s throat and into his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

For all that Logan’s terror blinded him, Dumo didn’t look well, either. “We don’t know the full story, but—”

Nonsense bumbled from Remus’ mouth. His eyes had slipped to the pale tile, pupils dilated, a hundred years away. An exhale rattled in him like a sob chained down. “Five percent. They told me five percent.”

Logan swayed. A hand steadied him when he sat back. Dumo hadtold him about the five percent. Five percent had been hooked in the back of his mind for 60 hours and shaken him from half-waking dreams. But five percent was nothing—was practically zero. Five percent was a liability figure told to prevent a lawsuit, nothing more.

Remus was lifted to his feet, barely, and Logan watched him sit hard in one of the stiff chairs. No tears striped his ashen face. Beside him, Dumo was blinking fast. Olli passed him a napkin from the paper bag Logan had picked up not fifteen minutes ago from the place Remus liked because they had soft-serve ice cream. The place Sirius liked because Remus liked it.

He wasn’t sure if he could get up, now. It seemed he had left his knees at the cashier’s counter by mistake.

“Lo.”

A funny noise escaped him at pressure on his back.

“Lo, baby, come up with me. Come on.”

Thomas was holding Remus around the shoulders. His mouth turned down at the sides while they spoke in low voices.

Logan couldn’t help himself. “Did we lose him?”

“No,” Finn said immediately, voice dropping hoarse. “God, Logan, no, we didn’t lose him.”

“Five percent chance of severe memory loss.” That first night had been so long and so hard. He had stammered his way through a call with his father, though he couldn’t remember a word they exchanged. He knew he had stayed plastered to Dumo’s side for hours while Sirius went through scan after scan, fast asleep. Finn let him push close, let him pretend he could hide in the hollow of his arm. “We lost him.”

It was audacious to claim any part of his pain alongside whatever Sirius must be feeling—whatever Remus must be feeling. Logan couldn’t help it. The chasm of his belly beat not fair! into his guts. Sirius had done nothing wrong. He didn’t deserve five percent.

“I want to go back to bed,” he mumbled.

Finn’s hand rubbed along his back. “Okay. We can do that. We’ll get up, we’ll go home—”

“I want to wake up right now.”

“Oh. Oh, Lo…”

“This is not supposed to happen.” Tears clumped on his lashes. He refused to let them fall. He had no right. “This is not. He has to be okay.”

“Pots is with him.” Finn brought him close, and shame burbled up at the way Logan clutched him all too tight. They shouldn’t be doing this with Remus right there. “Cap’s got a lot of good people looking out for him right now. Nobody better. And I have you, and we’ve got Knutty, and we’re just going to take a minute for everyone to calm down.”

Finn was using his storybook voice. Hills and valleys, nearly singsong. It set some part of Logan’s brain mute with old comfort. “I need—I need to help.” His throat scraped when he breathed. “I need to get up or I’m going to stay here for a really long time.”

“I know.” Of course he did. Finn always knew what Logan wanted before Logan did. Drinks, food, kisses. This. He was already braced against Logan to boost him up, for Christ’s sake.

If Logan gave him double that love in return, it still wouldn’t be enough. Not for Finn, who deserved all and more. He wanted to pack him up in softness and seal it with a kiss, keep him somewhere safe and kind forever. They stood together—only a little wobble before he righted himself. Leo had pushed a sandwich into Thomas’ hands and was trying to shepherd the others into it as well. He didn’t like the tension creeping up the back of Leo’s neck.

Remus was still staring at the door as if he’d seen a ghost. Logan didn’t want to go in there. He caused damage. He was shit at fixing it.

He really wanted to be angry at this.

“Please eat.” Leo’s voice was tight and pitched at the start, forced into his measured baritone. His nailbed was white where it pressed into thin wax paper; Logan made a silent note to get him some water from the fountain down the hall.

“Hmm?” Dumo blinked a few times, then startled, as if he hadn’t seen Leo there. His gaze slid from Leo’s face to the sandwich, and he took it with a wan smile. “Ah. Merci.”

He picked at the sticker sealing it, but that was all. Logan had spent too much time around the man day in and day out to be fooled into thinking he was anywhere on this plane right now. Distant eyes and tight wrists. A rigid back, like when they thought Marc broke a rib at hockey practice. Logan wondered if Remus could hear his mind whirring from the adjacent chair.

“Loops.”

Thick gray sleeves sheltered his mouth from view.

“Remus.”

Without the vibrant red letters, the lack of color washed him out. Thomas’ deep blue shirt was harsh next to Remus’ grayscale.

“Re,” Thomas tried again, nudging him ever so gently. Remus made a faint noise. “Hey, you want a sandwich?”

“Not hungry.”

Leo’s brows pitched in the middle—Logan wanted to smooth it away, to kiss it into the ether. Distress was a difficult thing to watch on Leo’s round face. “You need to eat,” Thomas said. He took the proffered sandwich with a quick squeeze of Leo’s forearm, and slid it into the space between Remus’ thighs and body. “Whenever you’re ready, just…we’re here.”

“You should go,” Remus murmured into his forearms.

“No.”

“He’s awake. Not much to do now.”

“No.”

“I don’t—” His voice caught and Logan felt his stomach plummet. Not now, not now. “There’s not a lot to do here. The nurses’ll take care of him.”

“We’re here to take care of you, too,” Thomas said quietly.

Remus closed his eyes.

“Ouais,” Logan managed. Finn’s arm pulsed around his waist; he cleared his throat, willing the clamminess from his palms. “Both of you—yeah, whatever you need.”

It had been such a fucking fight during those first terrible hours. Nearly midnight, and still no answers. Adrenaline and exhaustion, scraps of illness battling with the raging fire inside him while every door slammed in his face with a no, no, family only, I’m sorry. Watching them roll Sirius to a scan room. Leaving Remus and his shaky, feeble smile under the scathing fluorescents. Come back tomorrow. I’m sure someone will call you with an update. It didn’t matter that Sirius would have wanted him there.

Well—that was debatable. Sirius probably would have preferred to pass out in some quiet, dark corner and pick himself up without anyone knowing. But Logan had never let him do that before, and he wasn’t about to start now. Goddamn martyr. If it wasn’t for Leo’s quaking grip on his hand, he would have bulldozed past every too-bright white coat in the place and planted himself at Sirius’ bedside just like Remus had been allowed to. He was always there for Sirius. It wasn’t fair to keep him away because of a silly thing like blood relation.

Leo tucked his phone into his back pocket. “Visiting hours start in twenty minutes.”

A silent request filled with bare-rock hope. Logan took the empty chair and cupped his hand over the back of Leo’s. “I’d like to see him,” he offered. He hoped his meaning came through—I’m here. I love you. I’m here because I love you.

The hand beneath his own turned over and twined their fingers, pale and straight against his own fucked-up knuckles. His hands looked so blunt when they were together. Let alone when Finn, all willowy strength, toyed with his fingers. It was like comparing a sledgehammer to a harpist.

Twenty minutes was a long time to ask Finn to sit still. He may have been more staid than usual, but that didn’t stop him from popping up and down no less than four times for water, trash runs, and to check in with the nurses.

More than once, it was clear he was moving just to move. Logan couldn’t blame him. He needed stillness and silence to process, but the flowing magnitude of Finn’s heart wasn’t meant to sit quietly. He had always hated that part of his concussions the most: more than being benched, more than fear, more than the blinding pain Logan had dampened with his shirtsleeve too many times. If his body couldn’t move, his brain had to, and he was denied both in those dark rooms. Logan had always done his best to ease the strain in whatever way he could. He’d pour himself to drought if it would cool the fire under Finn’s skin.

“Lo?”

Leo had scooted closer on his chair, mere inches from sitting in Logan’s lap. He wouldn’t mind that. Closeness sounded good right now. Logan smoothed the ladder of his knuckles. “Quoi?”

“I…” Leo broke off with a slow exhale through his nose. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Was he looking for a lie? The truth? Was he looking for don’t worry, I know what I’m doing or I keep thinking I’ll blink and find Sydney in there with her appendix gone? Logan figured he had fumbled pretty hard this morning. I’m really fucking scared. He still didn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe this could be his second chance. Leo was so good at giving those.

He shifted over and let Leo lay his head on his shoulder, resting his own against golden chick-fluff curls. Words rolled between his teeth and over his tongue for a long moment. “I don’t either,” he said haltingly. Finn probably would have sounded more confident. “This is new. C’est horrible. I’m—this is horrible. It’s so horrible.”

Remus and Thomas were making their way down the hallway to the lobby. Something about a phone call, Logan thought. To Lily, or Remus’ parents. It was just good to see them standing. Leo sniffled.

He ducked his head and let his lips rest against Leo’s forehead, right under the tuft of gray hair he twirled around his finger on long nights when sleep escaped them both. “We’re here, though. That counts for something. He’ll be glad to see us.”

“He pushed Loops.”

“…what?”

“He pushed Loops,” Leo repeated. “ ‘S what Dumo was saying to Finn when you got us water. Cap woke up, freaked out, and pushed Loops.”

“Oh.”

“I keep—I mean, what if—” Leo groaned softly and sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. “God, I’m just turning it over and over in my head. I don’t want him to yell at me. Which is so fucking selfish.”

“When has Cap ever yelled at you?”

“It’s not Cap, though, that’s the problem.”

Logan tried not to flinch.

Leo shook his head. “I want to see him. I really need to, just so I stop thinking about it.”

The large clock on the wall ticked through another minute. They were technically allowed to go in now. Logan wasn’t sure his stomach could handle it just yet. Finn’s foot tapped restlessly ten paces from them while he read one of the dozens of bulletin boards, hands clasped behind his neck. “I wasn’t there from the start.”

He felt Leo look at him. “What do you mean?”

“When Cap was a rookie.” He had heard stories. Seen pictures. It looked bad enough to make him grateful for Harvard, just for some distance in time. He watched Finn worry at the full curve of his lower lip. “But…you know, he was still pretty frozen over when I got here. It wasn’t until Loops that he opened up. Even when they weren’t out. There was only a few months you were here where he was quiet.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You were new.” Logan shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. He was a lot of things, but he was never mean. Never yelled.” He glanced back at Leo and tried for a smile. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, soleil.”

“Excuse me?” They both turned at the sound of a new voice. Sneakers creaked on the waxed floors. A dark-haired woman smiled at them, flipping a page on her clipboard. “Dr. Manuel asked me to let you know that visiting hours will run from now until eight o’clock. No more than four people at a time, please.”

She seemed awfully calm. Logan wondered if she had been told about Sirius’ condition. Now that he thought about it, had any doctors come and gone since they arrived?

“Fantastic,” he said. A win was a win was a blessing in this mess. “Thank you.”

He could feel his hand shaking in Leo’s when they stood.

--

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. “We both lived with him. I’m—” This is wrong. “We’re close. You and me.”

Sirius studied him with a wariness that made Logan want to curl up under one of the hall chairs and never come out. His next breath would be pure smoke from the flaming wreckage of hope inside him, he was sure of it. “Parles-tu français?”

Stop talking like that, stop it, why do you sound like that? “Ouais.”

He looked small in the bed. How could he look so small? Where did he learn that, and how fast could Logan run to get away from it? “Tu t’appelles Logan? Un nom Quebecois?”

Leo’s hand must be hurting from how tight he gripped it. Do not let me go. Sirius had always teased him for his fantaisie bon français drilled into him by his grandmother in Nice but this was not right, not right, not right, from the way Sirius’ voice folded in around his words to the lower, softer timbre just barely letting them free. No, Logan thought, he didn’t like this at all. “Ouais. Je viens de Rimouski.”

“Ah. Montréal, pour moi.” His smile was tentative, almost apologetic. Three days ago, Logan had teased him for this very conversation.

“Je sais,” he managed.                                                                                            

A faint humming noise answered him. He had already seen Sirius’ eyes dart over the three of them, clever and quick even when he was concussed. A subtle jerk of the chin made his mouth parch. “Qui sont-ils?”

“Mes copains.”

Logan didn’t have words for the complicated expression that flitted across Sirius’ face. “Les deux?”

“Oui.” He tried for a wry smile, for anything that could quell the riot of too much inside him. “Tu les appelles Bambi et Fleur. Tu m’appelles Thumper, espèce de connard.”

And almost—almost—that got him a grin. It was almost—almost—enough to make up for the ice-water panic filling his lungs with each passing breath. He didn’t like the smell of this place. Remus’ backpack by the chair, where he had been using it as a pillow. The plastic cups that were never stiff enough for a patient to drink from on their own. His mother had helped Sydney drink for three hours after her surgery, while her hands were still too weak not to spill on herself. And when Finn—

“Rookie.”

Logan felt Leo slump into him with a shaky breath. “Yeah. Sorry. Yeah, that’s—you call me that.”

There was a whining in his ears. A mosquito, or a siren. The sheets were too crisp. They would make his hands itch. Leo’s hand slipped from his own as he wrapped them around himself and fuck it all sideways, Logan couldn’t even comfort his boyfriend properly. He wanted to put an arm around his waist. His shoulder refused to unlock.

Sirius’ gaze dragged over him before sliding to Finn, brighter than before. “He calls you names in French.”

Oh, you piece of shit, Logan thought with startling clarity. “Sirius!”

“It’s true.” Sirius had been stoic for the first part of Logan’s rookie year, fresh off the rush of a disappointing not quite in the second round of the playoffs for the second year in a row. Logan would never forget the relief of nights when Sirius visited the Dumais house, putting aside the professionalism for a dinner that was close enough to home to ease his aching. Sirius had never asked him about Finn, either, content with the simple knowledge that they used to play together at Harvard and still tore it up on the ice.

“Finn,” Finn was saying. “Or Harzy, doesn’t matter much.”

“So you’re on the team, too?”

Logan had needed that presence when he arrived. And the…separation. The wound had been too raw for him to survive someone asking about Finn without the excuse of not knowing what words to use. “All three,” he said now. Sirius smiled, just slightly. His heart gave an unsteady thud-thud-thud. “What, you thought you were the only gay NHL player?”

The smile vanished. Too much. It slammed into Logan like a rogue wave and he bit hard on the side of his tongue. Leo was apologizing now. Apologizing for him. He would never learn, never had. Either he never tried or he pushed so hard a chance shattered in his hands. He could see it on Sirius’ face, all that confusion and fear mixed in with abrupt, sincere concern when James stood with a touch to his shoulder.

A tear slipped down James’ nose when he brushed past them. The whining turned to muddled clangs. What could he even say? I’m not gay? That wouldn’t help. The conversation had moved on; Leo had moved on, leading him forward to the plastic chairs by the bedside.

If he sat, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up fast enough when the feeling tiptoeing up behind him finally grabbed on. The world tipped a degree off its axis and he clenched the back of Leo’s chair in both hands. Remus’ backpack was a lonely black lump by the thin blanket someone had brought for him. Itchy. Everything in these places was itchy. It clung to Logan’s skin for days. He knew how it would feel to pillow his head with rough polyester. White caught his eye—a tag? Remus Lupin, #10, Varsity Hockey Harvard University.

Just a zipper. Tiny Nike logo.

Stitching on the front Tremblay #10—

A patch. Clumsy hand-sewn stitches reinforced on the equipment room machine by an exasperated Molly. Remus loved that backpack.

Sirius was looking straight at him. “Il y a des morceaux.”

How could pieces be all that was left of three and a half years?

A pale face blurred with freckles and Logan blinked rapidly to shake them away. Leo needed this. Leo needed him to keep it together. He could do this.

He moved one hand over, until his fingertips brushed Finn’s sweater.

“You and I run plays after practice sometimes, if I’ve been having a tough time of things,” Leo said. His voice was significantly steadier than before. It was working. Logan could do this. He could help. “I don’t think you and Harzy hang out a lot one-on-one, but Lo’s usually your go-to for video games ‘n shit. We have dinner sometimes with you and—”

The air went stale fast enough to make him choke on it. Finn shifted in his chair.

Genuine puzzlement creased Sirius’ face. “I cook?”

He couldn’t do this.

“I can’t do this.”

The door was a million miles away. He was gripping the handle in four steps. The dam was breaking, knocking the sight from his eyes. He braced both hands on cold cream paint, praying, praying that Remus was nowhere near.

Tears were a funny thing. He had never really figured out how to do them right—or at least, how to do them loudly, like when Noelle skinned her knee on the deck and screamed loud enough to make the neighbors come running. For Logan, it felt more like Leo’s beat-to-hell watering can, if the duct tape holding it together ever gave up. Everything kept in, and then everything rushing out at once. Breath and water and salt alike. Rarely noise, but he still pressed his elbow over his mouth and dug his hand into the frame of the bulletin board. Always, always, rawness to the marrow of his bones.

“Lo, oh my god.”

“I’m sorry.” A guttural sound died in his chest. “I tried.”

It was all he had. It would have to be enough. He just—he didn’t do head injuries. Broken fingers and busted ribs and jammed joints, fine, but he couldn’t fucking stand sitting and watching. There was only so much reading he could do. Only so many articles he could struggle through.

“Logan—”

“I’m sorry.”

Looking was a mistake. Finn’s face fell. “Hey, baby—”

“I’m sorry.” Logan sucked in a breath and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to force the tears back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Lo…”

Finn’s hand brushed between his shoulder blades and he flinched, turning away. The tears were fighting him now—fighting him so hard it made his throat ache. He could feel his pulse behind his eyes and ground his teeth. “No, no, no, no.”

“It’s okay.” Finn’s voice had gone soft and unsure and Logan hated himself. “Baby, it’s okay.”

He shook his head. It was never okay. Not like this.

“It’s okay.” He felt Finn move closer, but he didn’t try to touch again. “He’s awake now. He’s making sense.”

A jagged sound punctured Logan’s lung. “It doesn’t.”

“No, I…” Finn faltered. “He’ll be okay, baby. Come on, come sit down.”

Logan’s stomach fell to the floor. “No.”

“Can you—please give me something to work with, Logan, this isn’t—”

“I can’t sit down,” he said thickly. The light blinded him when he tilted his head back for a few harsh breaths. He wanted to cover his face, but his hands shook too bad to be any use. “I can’t just wait here, I’ve done that, I can’t do it again, I won’t.”

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t sit and wait, forbidden from crossing the threshold because he wasn’t family, even though nobody loved Finn like he did and nobody could take care of him like he could—

A shudder rattled through Logan and he sealed a palm over his mouth. The waves howled and clawed at every one of his hairline cracks.

“What’s going on?” Finn sounded sad. Not worry-sad, but different-sad. Confusion-and-guilt-sad.

Muck clogged Logan’s throat. He took a few hitching breaths to clear a path. “It’s Sirius,” he said. “And he’s hurt, and every time I fucking blink I see your face instead and I still can’t do a goddamn thing, Finn, I can’t…”

He leaned into Finn’s hovering hand and fell against his chest with a low noise, pulling at his arms until he was safe.

Finn was here in his sweater and his jeans and Logan was safe.

He couldn’t stop the hurricane. The throbbing and the drenching, out of control. He had let it run its course in Remus’ office, in his basement bedroom, and now here. With Finn. Finn who was safe and whole. Something ugly muffled itself in the broad chevrons across Finn’s neckline, but there was no flinch to meet him.

“Let it out.”

God, it hurt so bad.

“You’re doing great, baby.”

This wasn’t a cry-solution. This had to be a Heather-solution. Logan wasn’t looking forward to that.

Finn’s nose was cold where it dovetailed against Logan’s cheek. “Love you so much,” he whispered. “So, so much.”

The compression of his arms outstripped any weighted blanket by a landslide. Logan flattened his palm against the back of Finn’s neck. There was no energy left in him to keep down a whimper when he felt Finn stroke through the back of his hair and leave a kiss on his cheekbone.

“I’m—” Logan gulped down a fragile attempt at a breath. “I love—fuck shit—”

“Shh, shh, stop.”

“I tried.”

Finn’s gentle scritch to his nape silenced him. How long had they been swaying? Finn had a funny way of coaxing him into a dance before he even knew what was happening. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, voice breaking. “Jesus, Lo, I can’t even imagine.”

“It’s—it was Syd, and then it was you, and now it’s Sirius—” His breathing hitched on each name, as if unwilling to let him speak, but he was so tired of the silence. “—and what if I lost you, what if you forgot me, how could he forget us? Pieces, Finn, he said pieces.”

If he tried, he could probably stop. The duct tape could be slapped back on. Not perfectly, but he’d manage.

He didn’t really want to.

A gross, clogged sniffle made him feel a tiny bit better. “I’m always so fucking useless here.”

Finn was quiet for long enough that Logan could match their breathing. That, too, gentled the storm. The individual floor tiles were starting to reappear. “You helped me drink water for days,” Finn finally said. “You cooled me down. You slept next to me in a twin XL for—what, a week? You read every assignment, out loud, for two. You made Cap smile.” A sigh gusted over the back of his neck. “You’re not a doctor or anything, but I don’t think anyone can call you useless.”

“I can.”

“I’ve never been a fan of the way you talk to yourself, sweetheart.”

A problem for another day. “Leo?”

“They’re chilling. He’s just glad to be there, I think.”

Distance made him stress. Logan was familiar with the feeling. “You should go with him.”

“Hmm.”

“No, really. I’m feeling better.”

“Hmm.”

“Are you—are you okay?”

Finn took a big breath, let it go in an unsteady huff. “This is just…sad. And weird. And sad. I don’t know.”

Baby steps. One at a time. Finn was here and safe, Leo was right where he wanted to be, and Sirius wasn’t going anywhere fast. Let it out, Finn had said. God knew he was trying. He pried his hands off the back of Finn’s sweater and flexed them, pulled his elbows in until he could hold Finn’s waist. A three-count to lift his head, then a foiled attempt to dry his face before Finn got there. His sleeve took the salt and water before Logan could so much as raise a hand. Despite himself, he laughed.

“Let me take care of you,” Finn said through falsely-gritted teeth, planting an aggressive kiss to Logan’s forehead. He surveyed him for a few seconds, head tilted, before his lower lip slid out. “Aw, baby.”

“I know,” Logan said thickly. “Not everyone can be a pretty crier like Knutty.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Still.”

“I don’t love you because you’re a pretty crier.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not.”

“Yeah, dipshit, I know.” Finn cuffed the outside of his shoulder and Logan dipped his chin against a smile. “I’m aw, baby-ing because you’re sad and I wanna go take you home and wrap you in a blanket.”

Logan sighed. His head fell forward to bump Finn’s collarbone. “I feel like an asshole.”

“Why?”

“Left you all in there.”

“Not sure anyone can blame you.”

“I can.”

“You don’t count.”

“Is Sirius mad at me?”

“Honest to god—and this is really fucking morbid, so like, mea culpa—I don’t think Sirius remembers enough to be mad at us.”

Logan’s lip quavered. “I got him sick.”

“Everybody got sick. You don’t know that it was you.”

Lo’s usually your go-to. “I spend the most time with him.”

“…pretty sure that’s Loops, actually.”

“Okay, well—”

“You’re not winning this one,” Finn interrupted. “Literally everyone on the team was sick at some point, and we saw each other every single day. You want to point fingers? Blame coach for playing Cap’s line that long.”

It was so hard to come up with a defense when Finn was always right. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Here’s the plan.” Finn gave a little oof as he helped Logan straighten up and squished his shoulders. There was fine tension around his eyes and mouth that gave way when Logan ran his thumbs over it.  “I’m going back inside. You’re going to go find a bagel place for Dumo and Remus. I’ll text you when Knutty and I are done, we’ll figure out bagel dropoff, and then we’re going home and sleeping.” He must have seen Logan’s hesitation, because one auburn brow arched. “Cap’s awake. He’s not perfect, but he’s awake. There’s nothing else we can do.”

“I hate this.”

“Oh, yeah, this is terrible from every angle. Hence going home and sleeping.”

Logan nodded, then tipped his head toward the door. “Go see Le.”

Finn kissed him sweetly, a hand on his jaw, and obliged.

--

If Finn had been looking for a way to keep Logan occupied, tasking him with finding appropriate late-lunch/ early-dinner bagels was the way to do it. Gryff had dozens—half were closed by this hour, and the other half had to undergo rigorous inspection before Logan would even consider bringing them back to his Manhattan bagel hound of a boyfriend. Remus and Dumo would want coffee, too, even if they didn’t say it. Their respective husband and son was a previously-comatose amnesiac. He couldn’t bring them shitty coffee.

Finally, he found a promising option. Warm interior, short line, music quiet enough to tune out if he needed to. Display cases that were picked over (many customers), but not too empty (still some variety). A clean half-dozen should do.

The barista smiled when he approached the register, despite Logan’s certainly-red eyes and general crustiness. “Welcome in! What can I get started for you?”

“A half-dozen bagels, please. And two medium coffees, light cream, light sugar.”

“What kind of bagels?”

He hadn’t prepared for questions. Why hadn’t he prepared for questions? “Which ones are good?”

“What’s the occasion?”

“My—” Motherfucker. The tears snuck up on him, rushing to the front until he had to tip his head back with a frustrated breath. The barista’s hand hovered over the computer screen. Questions. He should have prepared for questions. There was a reason Finn always ordered for them. A strained, embarrassed smile was all he had to offer. “Desolé. My brother’s in the hospital.” His torso squeezed. “That’s the occasion.”

The barista seemed to freeze for a moment. “I’m…really sorry,” they finally said. “God. Wow. My bad.”

“It’s fine.” Logan shook his head. “Two plain, one sesame, one cheese, and two of the sandwich things, please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” The barista started to turn, then faced him again, lowering their voice to soft concern. “Do you have someone with you? I just—my cousin was sick, and it was hard to be there alone. If you needed help.”

“He’s awake,” Logan assured them. The next person in line had stepped back a half-meter, looking pointedly at their phone. It was a kindness he hadn’t expected. He watched the barista wrap the two plain bagels before he felt he could trust his voice again. “He’ll be okay.” It felt funny to say aloud. Different than reassuring Leo or Finn. More confident. “We’ve got family around. Friends. We’ll be fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” they said with sincerity he hadn’t prepared for, either. Each bagel was carefully placed in a paper bag; a large sticker held the edge down. The sides were warm when Logan pulled it to himself, and the coffee steamed in two balanced cups.

“How much do I owe you?”

They waved him off. “Please, don’t worry about it. Just…have a good day. Be with your brother.”

He sighed through his nose. “You can’t stop me from tipping you.”

“Oh—”

He stuffed two twenties in the painted mason jar by the register and stepped back immediately, tossing a half-smile to the barista. “Have a nice afternoon.”

--

I need to go. I really need to do this.

Logan hadn’t fought him on it. He was tired of fighting. And not against Leo—never against Leo. Finn knew New York best; the safest winter roads, the quickest routes. Logan was content to play homemaker and listen to their back-and-forth. He simply fixed two sandwiches and a baggie of snacks for the ride while they talked it out on the couch.

The roads’ll be dark.

I can drive in the dark, it’s not a problem.

I topped off the tank yesterday, but you should refill outside the city if you need to. There are more when you’re out of Manhattan. They’re easier to get to.

Thanks, sweetheart.

You’re going to be okay? Finn’s voice had been tight with worry. Logan wasn’t sure it was entirely about Leo driving. You’re—you know, you should stay here for tonight, we can all go pick him up early tomorrow.

The sound of their soft kiss made the house warm. I won’t be sleeping, Leo had said. I’ll keep you both up. He’s been texting all day and I don’t want to make him get on a train right now.

Logan had managed to tempt him to the couch with a cup of tea and an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Finn wasn’t far behind, and Leo dozed on his chest for the show’s second half. Thirty minutes could satisfy his worry if he stretched it. The adrenaline shakes had stopped an hour prior.

I don’t like this. Finn’s arms were tight around him while they watched Leo turn his headlights on and wave goodbye with a blown kiss. I don’t like this at all.

He’s a good driver.

I keep thinking…

I know. Did Logan ever. But it’s not us. So we’re here, and we’re helping.

Finn’s nose pushed into the crook of his neck; a deep breath made his stomach hurt.

We’re here, he had repeated, tangling a hand in the back of Finn’s hair. We’re safe. Je t’aime. I have a bagel place I want to show you in the morning.

--

“LoLo?”

“Hi.” Logan winced at the scratchiness of his own throat and glanced back down the hall, where Katie was just skipping back into Sirius’ room with Regulus in tow. “Hey, hi. What are you up to?”

“Um…folding my laundry, at the moment.” Silence fell over the phone. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. And you’re—you’re okay?”

“Wishing I didn’t have to do my laundry, but yes,” Sydney laughed.

His heart eased. “Bon. Good, okay.”

The sole of his shoe was starting to peel away from the toe. “What’s going on?” Sydney asked, quieter.

He shook his head before remembering she couldn’t see him. “Nothing, just wanted to talk.”

“Did something happen with Finn and Leo?”

“Non, we’re fine.” His stomach was shivery, like he’d gone too long without eating despite the sesame bagel lingering on his tongue. “Figured I’d call.”

“Black is still in the hospital, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“He’s awake?”

I remember you. Not everything, but I know you. “Up and talking. Making sense.”

Sydney hummed. He heard the light thump of a folded sock hitting her drawer. “He’ll be fine, petit. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I miss you,” he said quickly, before his mouth could force it all back. “I just—I miss you and I wanted to call.”

“Aw, LoLo.” Her sigh crackled in the hospital’s sketchy wifi. “I miss you, too. Christmas feels far this year.”

“Ouais.”

“You want me to get the girls on FaceTime?”

As if he could handle that right now. All three of them, scattered across a continent instead of safe in a pillow fort. “Non, it’s alright. I might…call, or something. I don’t know.”

This was stupid. He shouldn’t have interrupted her evening. But he so desperately needed to hear her voice after catching a sideways glimpse of Sirius’ dark hair from the open door.

“Take your time,” Sydney said easily. “I’m here all night, doing nothing. Have you heard from Obbie lately?”

“No, why?”

“She’s doing some sort of award gallery thing. Sounded neat. I’ll text you the link.”

“D’accord.” He could see her when he closed his eyes. Two loose braids to her shoulders, their father’s sharp jaw. Practiced hands flipping socks around each other, deft from gloving pucks. She had always poked and prodded and teased him more than the other two—a function of their close years—but had never once flaked when he reached out. He wasn’t sure how to thank her for that. He cleared his throat and heard it echo back to him. “You’ll call me, right? If you need things.”

“What would I need?”

“Just. I don’t know. Things.”

Her laugh was light, fond. “Yes, LoLo, I’ll call if I need things. Check your messages for the link.”

“I will.” He started to lower the phone, then brought it back to his ear. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Be safe.”

“I will.”

“See you at Christmas.” His lips felt shaky. “Or—whenever. If you’re around, or anything.”

“Goodbye, Logan,” she said slowly, though he could hear her smiling. “I’ll see you in two weeks. Take care. Give your boys my love.”

“I will.”

“Er, my master lent it to me. It’s about the discoveries humanity owes to witchcraft. Why?”

Logan opened the book to the preface, pointing at a fading stamp that indicated the bookshop it came from. He tapped it urgently. “O’Hara Brothers’ Books and Parchments. Leo, it’s Finn’s bookshop. It’s—it’s from home.” He turned it again, his eyes widening even more. “His brother wrote it.”

“What?”

“Here. A. A. O’Hara. Alexander Aodhán O’Hara. It’s Alex.”

Leo stared at the name shining in gold under the light and then at Logan, now grasping the book as if it would fade any second. Not daring to look away. Leo realized that the book must have been the closest thing to home, to Finn, that Logan had in months.

“Logan,” he said slowly. “Are you sure?”

Green eyes darted on him in a violent ocean wave. Leo felt their strength crashing against him. It was the way Logan simply stared, not letting a sound out, and bringing the book to his chest, that answered for him. The book had once belonged to Finn. Leo nodded a few times, suddenly not knowing what to do with himself.

“Okay,” he managed. “Okay. I’ll—I’ll contact my master—well, ex master, but we’re friends—but that’s not the point, but yes. He’ll tell us more.”

Logan nodded sharply, following him to the living room, where Leo sat down in front of the fireplace. A vague flick of his wrist, and a fire was warming their already heated faces. Leo took a deep breath and put a hand in front of the flames, repeating the spell under his breath. But the room remained silent. Leo tried again, but no response came from the other end. He cursed under his breath.

“It’s the storm,” he sighed, getting up and starting to pace the room. “It must have broken the connection, and I can’t repair it on my own. If we want to talk to him, we need to go to his house.”

He expected Logan to be on his feet in a second, running to grab his cloak. But the traveler was still staring at the flames. “Leo,” he murmured. “Where does your master come from?”

Leo stopped his pacing to look down at him. “Up north, originally. Krios Kepék like you, but I don’t remember the village.”

Logan nodded slowly. “Does he travel a lot?”

“Used to, from what I hear. Not that much now.”

Logan took a deep breath. “Is he a winter witch?”

Leo frowned.

“Is he?”

Leo nodded. Logan sat against the armchair. “We need to go to his place. Now.”

Leo nodded, but then a string pulled at his heart. Roux. He didn’t want to leave if Roux still hadn’t made it home. He looked out of the window. The sky was darkening. It had been almost two days. Logan caught his hesitation, stopping the jumping to put on his boots.

“Leo, Roux knows the way home. You said it yourself.”

Leo shook his head, crossing his arms in a self-hug to soothe himself. “I know. I know that, but…”

Logan nodded, without insisting further. “D’accord. I understand. I couldn’t leave the village for weeks when Finn…” he trailed off. Then shook his head and sent him a reassuring half-smile. “Point me the destination on a map. I’ll go there on my own.”

After some protests from Leo and promises from Logan to be careful and be back soon, the traveler left the cottage. Leo put a protection spell on him, just in case, and placed the book and a map in his sack. When he disappeared behind the curving trail, Leo felt the stillness of his house overwhelm him.

It didn’t last long, though.

The sense of alert caused by the sudden noise outside died after a second; he’d recognize the sound of Kasey’s cart and his horse everywhere. The moment Leo peeked outside, relief melted him, and he couldn’t help the incredulous laugh he let out. Kasey and Natalie were there. Logan was going to their house. Everyone just needed to sit down and talk.

He ran to open the door just in time to see Kasey getting down with a bundle in his arms. Natalie jumped down swiftly, a fox trotting after her. Kasey reached the door in long strides and adjusted the blanket he was carrying. Something inside shifted.

“We need to talk. Now,” he urged.

Leo blinked. It took him a moment to nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we do.”

Once they were all inside, Leo threw a questioning look at Natalie as the fox followed them inside, but she held his gaze. Okay then. The fox is invited to tea. Kasey gently placed the bundle on the kitchen table, uncovering red fur. Leo felt the clenching around his stomach finally relax.

“Roux!” he exclaimed, hurrying to the cat’s side.

“He’s alright now,” Kasey reassured him. “Just cold and tired from the night out in the storm. I found him this morning on the doorstep.”

“He came to you?”

Kasey shook his head. “Nah, even weirder. The fox carried him to our cabin. Must have found him in the forest last night.”

Leo blinked. “A fox brought Roux to you,” he deadpanned.

The man nodded. “I don’t even know. This fox is…well, doesn’t matter now. He won’t leave your cat’s side.”

Leo peeked at the fox, sitting elegantly at Natalie’s feet. Sharp, yellow eyes were fixed on the cat on the table, now up and accepting the scratches behind the ear Leo was giving him.

“There’s something about this fox,” he muttered. “Some sort of—”

“Lock.”

Leo turned to look at Kasey, gaze stern and arms crossed. “The same could be said about your cat.”

Leo just stared at Roux, now purring against his hand and keeping his head low. In the back of Leo’s mind, something reminded him that he could understand what they were saying. He shook his head.

“Leo,” Kasey sighed, sitting next to him. “I’m not mad. No one’s mad here. I just want to know what’s going on, and that you’re safe. This has been going on for a while.”

Leo sighed, scratching Roux’s chin. The calm, brown eyes that had warmed him for five months were calm, just like before every spell Leo had tried on him. I trust you.

“I found him on my doorstep five months ago,” he started, voice low. “I knew right away he wasn’t a cat. He would…sit on chairs to eat, and was confused on how to clean himself.” The memory made him smile. “The way he loves books, and how he was trying to tell me something. He must have thought that finding a witch would be the solution, that I would solve his problems.” He rolled his eyes at himself when he felt a grip in his throat. “And I’ve been trying. Really. And I know he’s human. Something or someone trapped him in this body, he’s spellbound, but I feel it. He feels it. Merlin, Kase, you feel it, too.” He blinked rapidly. “And time is passing, and he trusts me but all I give in return is failures.”

At that, Roux made a protesting noise, getting closer to push his head against Leo’s wet cheek. The intensifying of the purring made Leo smile. When he felt like he could open his eyes again, he found the most confused faces he’d ever seen.

“Your cat is a human,” Natalie repeated. “You’ve been living with a human-cat for five months.”

Leo nodded. It took him a while to look at Kasey. When he did, he found he was studying the cat with an open, worried expression. “Leo, transfiguration curses of this level would be hard to undo even for the wizards of the High Council. Especially without knowing the source, or how much time passed. You can’t expect to do it on your own. It’s not fair for you.”

Leo felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He nodded. “I know. I thought about asking for help, but…” he looked at Roux. “Someone out there did this to him. He’s not safe, and I don’t want to put him even more in danger.” He watched Natalie and Kasey exchange a complicated look. “Now, would you please tell me why a fox is in my…” he trailed off, looking at the spot where the fox had been sitting until a moment ago.

“Fucking fuck,” Kasey muttered.

They started looking around. Under the table, in the cauldrons, even in the living room. Then, a noise came from the guests’ room Logan had been occupying. The fox was there, sniffing the undone bag Logan had left on the floor.

Natalie sighed. “Come on, boy. I gave you some food before we left, there’s nothing in there.”

“Whose stuff is this, anyways?” Kasey asked, looking around at the mess.

Leo felt heat coming to his cheek, and simultaneously he cursed under his breath. Logan. “A traveler came here last night. He left not too long ago to see you. But I showed him the path in the forest. You didn’t meet him on the way here,” he guessed.

Natalie nodded. “Yeah, no. With the cart, we had to take the external route.” She frowned, looking at the fox with an alarmed look. “Hey, you put that down.”

The fox turned to look at her, a green sock in his mouth, then left the room. The three of them followed him hastily to the kitchen, where the fox jumped from a chair to the table, placing the sock in front of Roux. With a delicate nudge of the snout, the cat opened his eyes. He looked at the sock, then at the fox. A silent conversation went on, with a more than clear I’m not sniffing a dirty sock by the cat, and the fox pushing it closer to him. Finally, Roux leaned in and sniffed. His eyes widened. He looked at the fox, then sniffed again.

Hell broke loose.

Roux jumped down the table, starting to meow louder than he’d ever been, with alarm in his eyes. The tail stood straight as he ran to the living room, looking for something or someone, then to the other rooms. Natalie and Kasey threw a questioning look at Leo, but all he could do was shake his head helplessly. Roux had never behaved that way. The screams weren’t stopping, and in between those, the fox on his table, and the door opening, Leo didn’t know what to think.

Wait. The door opening?

Logan…was not having a good day. Not a good month, not a good year. The day had started in a good way, though. For the first time in weeks, he’d woken up in soft, clean sheets, in a room all to himself, and the smell of apple cake coming from the kitchen. Oh, and Leo. Leo was the reason the day had stared nicely, and the reason the previous one, despite the most violent storm of the season, was now special in his mind. Leo and his dimply smile. His eyes, and the curls falling into the blue when he kept his head down while cooking or laughing. The sweet ease he moved around in his cottage with, all warmth and love.  

Logan didn’t know what to think of it all. He’d been looking for Finn for months, now. He missed him every day. He missed the voice who read books to him and the glasses he put on while working at the bookshop. The way he always knew what book the clients needed-even when they themselves didn’t know. Logan’s love for Finn was an intricated, decades-old vine, that had planted its roots in their childhood and had mixed with friendship for all of their lives. Logan remembered Finn’s hands dirty with the berries he’d pick for him in the woods, and the runs after stealing books to bring to him, back when he didn’t have any.

Logan shook his head from those memories. They would only hurt the more he thought about them, he’d learnt. But after weeks on his own, the only thing pushing him to go on being ghosts from the past, Leo had arrived. Sweet, caring Leo. He didn’t mind Logan’s questions, or the way he’d flinched during the storm. He’d taken him in without hesitation, so careful to make him feel at home. The slow dance they’d fallen into that morning, between chores and the most disparate conversations, was the best thing that had happened to Logan since Finn disappeared.

Or maybe longer than that.

Because Logan remembered the feverish obsession Finn had developed after Alex went missing. He would reply sharply to anyone who told him to let it go, arriving to a few fights in the village’s pub or closing the shop to focus on the research. To hiding things from Logan. That had never, never happened. When he left to find the truth without telling anyone, was the day a piece of Logan left with him. And now he didn’t have Finn, nor that piece of himself. Just a bag with his belongings and the clothbound book in his hands. And maybe Leo. He didn’t know if he could risk thinking that. It was guilt and confusion on his head, pushing the warm sweetness Leo radiated in a corner.

He hoped that the sight of Leo would soothe and cheer him up like it had last night. He needed that, after not finding the Winter Wizard at home. That had been a huge inconvenience, by the way. If the wizard was who Logan believed him to be…that would be huge. He didn’t remember a face, or a name. But he remembered a long, blue cloak, and Alex leaving the store to a younger Finn for long walks in the woods with one of two strangers coming from far away. Sometimes he’d bring ink and parchments with him. Sometimes just flowers.

Not that it mattered now. If the wizard wasn’t there, Logan wouldn’t have answers. Another fruitless day of research, he noted as he approached Leo’s cottage. When he opened the door, it was to a commotion.

Leo’s cat was back, what was for sure. He was screaming like a madman in the living room, with two strangers trying to calm him down and a fox running around -was that his sock in its mouth? If it wasn’t for the sight of a panicked Leo, Logan would have thought he’d walked into the wrong house.

Before he could say or do anything, three things happened at once.

One, the fox stilled to look at him.

Two, one of the two strangers cursed under his breath.

Three, the cat stopped meowing and stared at him for a long moment before running in his direction and jumping on his chest. The now softer meows mixed with violent purring, and all Logan could do was stare at Leo in confusion as the little head pressed hard against his chin. He almost jumped when he felt the fox -a fox, a whole, big, wild fox- nudging his leg.

“Logan,” Leo murmured. “Come sit down.”

Once they were all sat, a few puzzled looks were exchanged. The cat wouldn’t leave Logan’s lap, and the others’ eyes his figure. The fox, apparently too excited to stay still -or not used to closed spaces, Logan thought- resumed its trotting around the room. After brief introductions, Logan placed the clothbound book on the table.

“This book was on Leo’s shelf, and he says it belongs to you,” he nodded at Kasey. The wizard hummed, taking it with careful hands and passing a hand on the cover. “What’s strange is that…the stamp inside. I know that stamp, and I know that bookshop. I know the man who wrote it, in fact.”

From his lap, Roux perked up, big eyes on the book. He meowled, jumping on the table. The woman sat next to the older wizard- Natalie, it was- bit her lip. “Yeah, he was a great writer,” she said, placing a hand on Kasey’s leg. The wizard’s eyes were fixed on the book.

“I grew up with him and his brother, Finn,” Logan blurted out. “The O’Hara brothers. They own the bookshop. They went missing about—”

He was interrupted by Roux jumping on the table, close to where Kasey’s hands were holding the book. A gentle paw tried to open it, and Natalie, after a nod from Leo and Kasey, complied. The cat turned to look at Logan, then at Leo. He touched the stamp and meowed.

Logan frowned. That cat was weird, loud and messy. Even worse, he was making Logan’s heart beat incessantly, for some reason. Like hope was something he could afford. At his side, Leo shifted on his seat. He heard him mutter there’s no way before he quickly got up, starting to pace the room.

“Okay,” he said, a tremor in his voice, pointing at the cat. “Okay. I’ll try something, but I’m not exactly sure…yeah, here goes nothing.” He looked at the fox, then at the cat. He offered his hand, and Roux went immediately, licking gently. He inhaled. “Finn.”

The cat looked up at him like he’d just been hit, and Leo repeated. “Finn.”

Logan was about to retort that—that it was insane. It was a cruel joke, and it couldn’t be, and how could it possibly be that Finn, his Finn, was a cat, in the same room as him—

But the cat meowed back. And then again and again, and then it was looking at Logan.

The tears prickled before Logan even understood what was going on. He opened his mouth a few times, only for no sound to come out. But the cat came to him all the same, until he was sitting in front of him.

“Finn?” he asked faintly.

The cat jumped in arms before he could even finish the name.

A few hours later, Logan eventually stopped crying. Natalie too, while Kasey was getting there. Leo smiled to himself. It had all been very confusional for a while. Logan had cried, and cried and cried, never letting the cat down. Not that Roux- Finn, it was Finn now- had other plans. A broken mantra of I can’t believe it and I thought I’d never see you again filled the room for some minutes, while Leo still struggled to understand what had happened. Why he’d said Finn’s name. How had the idea come to him?

Then, they’d turned to the fox. Or better, Kasey and Natalie had been staring at it for a good while, in between scared and hopeful. Leo had seen a few tears before he even tried to pronounce Alex. They’d all taken a scare when nothing happened, and the fox didn’t seem to recognize the name. Then Natalie had kneeled, and her voice worked better than any spell. Alexander. She’d been basically attacked by the animal, and then she was crying, and the fox was yelping in her arms, and Kasey fell to the floor, pale as a ghost, before he joined the embrace.

The three of them were now in the guests’ room. They all needed a moment. Leo didn’t know a lot about what had happened before Kasey’s retirement, a year ago. They just lost someone very, very close to them, was all Remus told him when he asked. As close as they are. Natalie and Kasey had grieved. They’d looked, and looked, like Logan had, but without finding traces. A year had passed. And then there Alex was.

Logan was in the living room with Finn, on one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. He was gently petting his head as the cat purred on his chest. A low murmur of how Logan had been looking for him the whole time could be heard from the kitchen, where Leo was preparing dinner for everyone. They all needed some soup and then a good night of sleep, after such an intense day.

In the aftermath of it all, normally Leo would have been thinking of how, in the great scheme of reunions and love, he would be left out. Because Kasey and Nat had found Alex, and Logan had found Finn, and he would be alone once the spells were broken.

Would have been.

Because a few things kept those thoughts away. A cat nudging his head against his legs. And a tired, but now smiling traveler, coming to hug him.

.

.

“What do you call this concoction again?” Logan asked, wandering towards the boiling pot on the stove where Leo was stirring.

“For today and today only, spooky spellbound soup. It’s cold, so it felt like a good option for dinner, and then I just had to make it festive,” Leo explained, scooping a small amount to taste before holding it out for Logan to try.

Logan accepted a sip, looking surprised. “Oh. That’s really good. Which recipe is that?”

“It’s a meatball soup with beef stock, and some spooky shaped pasta I found at the store. The meatballs are mini, I didn’t want them to look too… eyeball like. Because that doesn’t sound appetizing.”

“Well, it does sound delicious,” Finn said, making his way into the kitchen to join the other two. “I just finished another couple chapters and I’m cold all by myself. Cuddle on the couch while we eat?”

“If I ever say no to that,” Logan says, pulling Finn into his arms, “Then you know I’ve been possessed by an evil spirit.”

“Noted,” Leo nods. “This is done and the biscuits have just another minute, why don’t you two go curl up and I will bring our bowls, biscuits, and butter over.”

Remus blindly felt around the nightstand for his phone, tapping the screen to find the snooze. Before he could even roll back into Sirius’ waiting arms, a warm weight molded itself to Remus’ back and an arm snaked around his waist.

“Mornin,” Remus mumbled.

Sirius groaned. “Cuddle. Five more minutes.”

Remus rolled his eyes under his closed lids and settled back against him. “You and your ‘five more minutes’ every morning. You’re a menace. A monster. A cuddle monster.”

“I never hear you complain,” Sirius grumbled.

“What am I doing right now?”

“Falling back asleep, probably. I hear a lot of talk but your actions are not those of protest. Now shush.” SIrius buried his face into the back of Remus’ neck, holding him tight and dragging him impossibly closer in the process.

Logan flipped through the suggested shows on the Huluween collection, trying to find something worth watching. “I don’t want anything too scary, but I’d like something spooky,” he said as Leo plopped down next to him.

“Ooh, go back one? What about Goosebumps? The new one? The old show wasn’t too bad, and how scary can it be if Justin Long is in it?”

“Um,” Finn hummed as he made his way over with the bowl of popcorn, “I don’t know about that. The preview made it look pretty suspenseful.”

“But suspenseful is suspenseful, not scary,” Leo pointed out. “Tension and spooky music is fine. Maybe some light jump scares, but nothing actually… disturbing. Probably.”

“Well, we’ll try it.” Finn took a moment to get settled on the couch on Logan’s other side, pulling a blanket over his lap. “If we don’t like it, we can change it, how does that sound?”

But then from the edges of his work focused mind, Finn saw Logan take Leo’s hand, making him set down the dishes. He pressed up and kissed him, and led him outside. Finn smiled to himself and let them go, relieved to see Logan take care of Leo. He kept working, reciting his daily affirmation of ‘I am an apex editor,’ which helped him to relax and laugh, if nothing else. Maybe he should get a sticker that said that on his laptop.

Some time later, Finn stretched his arms above his head and closed his laptop. He made sure all the lids were on his pens and put them away, tidied up the table, and got himself a bubbly. He walked to the patio doors and leaned against the doorframe, looking out past the pool to the garden. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, and then went outside. He walked along the house, under a balcony roof to the side of the house to enjoy the shade and view. He leaned back against the house and relaxed. It was only mid-afternoon, but he had done enough work for today. The tree line stretched out in front of him, gardens and flowers in front of him. It really was an absolutely beautiful place to spend the summer, so colourful, it smelled so good.

Movement caught his eye in the garden. Leo and Logan. Leo was pointing at different things, zucchini? Squash? Carrots, smaller things Finn couldn’t make out from here. Despite the distance between them Finn could sense their smiles more than see them from here. Leo would point at something, Logan would fetch it, and press a kiss to Leo’s mouth, or neck, or cheek, and then pass him whatever he had picked. This went on, and Finn kept watching, no more in control of his staring than he was in control of his heart rate picking up.

The next thing Logan brought, he kissed Leo right at the level of Logan’s mouth, around Leo’s sternum. The next handful passed with a kiss just a bit lower, to Leo’s chest. The next, and Logan could have been passing Leo a whole cake for as much as he was paying attention to that , was lower. Logan kept up until he had to stoop to kiss Leo’s belly, then stood, walked back the garden, chose something else, kneeled and kissed just at the top of Leo’s shorts as he handed him something. He stood again, and came back again, knelt again. Finn gripped the can in his hand, one foot propped up and resting against the wall as the wall of the house supported his weight. He saw Leo’s head drop back in a laugh as Logan played the game of leaving and coming back again . Finn didn’t know, but he gasped along with Leo when Logan kneeled again, laughing, and ran his hand firmly up Leo’s thighs until they were skimming under the hem of his rolled up shorts. Logan was kissing over Leo’s belly and over top of his shorts, and, yes , Leo reached down and traced a hand through Logan’s hair. Finn inhaled sharply, the sound loud in his own ears. It shocked him enough to realise what he was doing. He was spellbound. The only world that existed was the tunnel of vision between his eyes and the couple across the yard. His friends . His grip on the soda can was tight enough to dent it. His body was tightly coiled, unmoving. He was hard. He fled.

Finn was upstairs hardly before he knew it and retreated through the first door he came across, which happened to be the upstairs bathroom. He closed the door and sat on the edge of the tub, head in his hands. What was he doing? He hadn’t meant to watch, really. They had thought they were alone and Finn had just got sucked in. Guilt, and something hotter, were roiling in his gut. He couldn’t sit, could stay still, so stood up and paced the small room. He finally stopped and leaned back against the wall and let his head thunk back. His heart was beating and despite the guilt, the hot feeling was there, from toes to the red tips of his ears.

Of course seeing two objectively beautiful men turned him on. That wasn’t bad. That was biology. His lizard brain didn’t know that he wasn’t part of their group, their love. He’d just take care of it and then go make sure the dishes were done before Leo would be wanting to cook dinner.

He undid the buttons on his pineapple print blue shorts and reached in, still hard and a tacky spot at the tip. He moaned only a little at the touch and, figuring he may as well make this quick, reached into the shower and poured himself a drop of conditioner, before leaning back on the wall again, like he had been outside. He had only stroked himself a few times when he froze, hearing voices and footsteps. He didn’t move, head resting back against the wall, slick hand down his shorts, hand frozen like his whole body had been before.

The steps came closer and then passed by the door, voices hushed and laughing. Fucking giggling. It was adorable and a smile peeked through his frozen face. He heard the sound of another door closing and realised he was in the bathroom, which was right next to Leo’s room. Leo and Logan’s room. They were right there, on the other side of that wall. Laughing. He thought he heard a muffled “finally,” and more footsteps. He felt the wall behind him shake slightly with the impact of a body against it from the other side.

“Yes, Lo, go on, come on,” he heard Leo drawl, vowels long.

He didn’t hear any noises coming from Logan. But Leo, that must be Leo groaning. That must be Leo urging Logan on. Finn’s hand was moving again before he even realised, again, only noticing when he heard a gasp come out of his own mouth. So he clasped one hand over his mouth and the one around his cock moved , the only other touch against his body the strength of the wall holding him up. There wasn't much to hear, nothing to see, but he knew . He knew they were continuing what they had started outside, and Finn was powerless in the grip of his desire. He moved his hand, stroking and twisting, both trying not to picture his friends in the other room, and being unable to not imagine Leo’s long neck stretched back against the wall, Logan’s curls carding through his fingers. He forced himself to blur the faces in his mind, to imagine a body in front of him, but not a particular person. His hips were moving now, he hadn’t come in way too long and it was right there for the taking. He heard more noises and absolutely did not connect the dots in his mind to what those sounds meant. He came over his fingers, gasping into his hand, trying to be silent and still through his release, letting stars spark through his vision and his hearing go dull, but all quietly. When he was able to think again, he was glad that they were very likely still occupied and wouldn’t have noticed some heavy breathing through a wall. He heard movement from the other room, and peeled himself off the wall. He grabbed tissues and snuck from the bathroom silently, padding up the hallway to his own room, mercifully just a few doors away, and behind the closed door, it was quiet.

Keep me?

If you don’t want—

Keep me. Keep me.

I can do that.

Remus Lupin was the biggest idiot in the world. And also stupid. And utterly, hopelessly, unbelievably head over heels for the gorgeous lump of muscle and sweet smiles he had left, adorable and asleep, in a Midtown double-wide.

God, he was so fucking dumb.

You better not be on-call tomorrow morning, ‘cause you’re making me breakfast.

His mouth didn’t always run off on him, but when it did, it always did it with a bang. His bouncing knee rattled the broken edge of his seat and made the lady next to him shoot a dirty look across her phone. The subway hustled onward; Remus glanced at his watch and found that time had not, in fact, decided to run backward and that he was, in fact, officially late for his shift.

Shithell.

He wasn’t even given the mercy of an empty kitchenette to slink into after sprinting the three blocks from his stop to the station. “Good morning, sunshine,” Leo cooed with a smile wide enough to be frightening. He oozed the smug confidence of a man who had more than earned the purple smudge peeking out of his shirt collar.

Remus ground his back teeth against the blood rushing to his face and snatched a mug from the cupboards. The coffeemaker juddered a familiar rhythm. Id-i-ot. Id-i-iot. Id-i-ot.

“How was your night?”

“None of your business.”

“I covered your ass for the last—” Leo gave the wall clock an exaggerated look. “—twenty-seven minutes, my goodness. I think I deserve an explanation.”

A prim sip of tea made Remus’ eye twitch. “I overslept.”

“Exciting. You look sore. Sure you’re ambulatory?”

Remus managed to choke down a knee-jerk defense; something in Leo’s glittering eyes told him this situation would not be made better by a description of his rather athletic night. “Yes.”

“Nice hickeys. What is this, a frat house?”

His hand flew to his neck before his mind could catch up. The panic hit first, followed by a chaser of distilled regret. “God—fuck you!” he complained, shaking his hand out as if that would roll back an instant admission of guilt. Leo buried a grin in the rim of his mug and blew steam at him. Remus snatched the coffeemaker up and gave himself a heavyhanded pour. “It was a good night. I overslept. I’m here now.”

“Twenty-seven minutes.”

“…sorry.”

“No, no, this is worth it. Only your lucky-ass self would find the one call-free morning to oversleep.” Leo’s pager (a preference of the chief) gave a light buzz—saved by the bell. He downed his tea in one gulp, patting down his front pockets the way Remus had taught him during his first week. But then Leo paused with one hand on the wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the station. His chin jerked forward. “Nice shirt, by the way. Don’t think I’ve seen that one before.”

Remus looked down at himself and spit a mouthful of coffee straight into the sink.

--

Hey I’m so sorry.

Nope.

Good morning—

Certainly not.

Hey, I’m sorry, I’m stupid and forgot about my shift this morning even though I was on your case about the same thing, so sorry for saying you could keep me and then leaving you in bed. You were too cute to wake up. Also sorry for stealing your shirt.

Remus’ phone dimmed over the open ‘Messages’ app. Sirius’ Instagram bubble had been green on his last break. He let the screen go dark. Boisterous laughter spilled in from the other side of the station and his heart kicked. No, he thought firmly. Sirius’ team. Not Sirius.

Sirius, who probably woke up alone and cold and confused. Hours had come and gone. He definitely hated Remus’ guts by now.

Don’t fuck your coworkers. How many times had he drilled that sentiment into the heads of his rookies? How many times had Moody drilled it into him? Other stations were fair game, open season, free reign, but don’t fuck your coworkers, stupid. And definitely don’t fuck your coworkers stupid.

Remus’ face heated. He forced those thoughts out of his mind. Under his thumbnail, his phone case bent, and he shoved it into his pocket before it could distract him further. The mental highlight reel of Sirius coming apart under him (around him) was no excuse. He knew better. Sleeping with a coworker was a rookie mistake, but this…this was so much worse, because it was Sirius.

It had been so much better, because it was Sirius.

And he had thrown it away. All of it. Sirius would be right not to look at him after this. He’d be right not to want him.

No more thoughts of dark stubble, or spicy cologne, or the clench of thighs around his waist. No more lingering on Sirius’ wayward grins and soft hair through Remus’ fingers, or the steady way his breath puffed over Remus’ skin when he began to fall asleep. If he could just focus on inventory for twenty more minutes—

The siren slit his concentration down the middle.

“Fuck,” he muttered, checking off a last box of sterile gloves before jogging for the door. Leo was dozing in the window seat he had padded for himself a year back and jolted awake when Remus smacked the wall next to his head. “Go time, Knutty, lights and sirens!”

“All EMS personnel, report to rig 6—”

“Inventory?”

Remus grimaced. “Halfway.”

“Why can’t people ever have convenient emergencies?”

“Make sure to send the next flash flood my calendar availability, yeah?”

They took the corner tight, sneakers squeaking on the concrete. The rig crew was already set up for them—Remus loved it when people took advantage of a slow morning—and he snagged a set of keys off the wall hook with a glance at his pager, chucking them to Layla.

“Bravo on 3rd and Central!” he called to her. “You drive, Knutty and I have the back.”

“On it!”

Go, go, go. If there was one thing Remus loved about this job, it was the total inability to dwell. His keel found even water best when the waves were rolling up around them. Stagnancy was not an option. “D-1, Layla, talk me through!”

“Multiple victims!”

“D-4?”

Her expression flickered for just a second. “Explosion.”

“What’s the Bravo tell you?” Seatbelts, stretcher, respirator. The first ambulance was already out—it would be engines next, then their backup squad. He opened his mouth to speak and found Leo already packing burn ointment into the front compartments. “Nice, Nut. Layla! Bravo!”

“Sorry, uh—potentially life threatening, basic support!”

He knocked on the window between the cab and the rear, and passed a thumbs-up through the gap. “Three for three. Keep it up.”

“Remus!”

“Hi, yeah—”

Remus nearly choked on his own tongue. “Sorry, bad timing,” Sirius rushed out. He pressed close to the ambulance, which was the logical and spatially-aware thing to do in a bustling firehouse, but did absolutely nothing to quell the tsunami crashing through Remus’ insides.

“Hi,” Remus repeated, breathless in the surge. “I’m so sorry. I’m so dumb. Last night was—good, it was really good to—um—multiple burn victims, also sorry for stealing your shirt?”

“We can talk later, it’s okay.” Sirius was looking at him. It was strange. Not…not quite desire, but searching. For what, Remus didn’t know.

The engines roared to life. Sirens fractured his hearing.  Layla would have them up and running in the next fifteen seconds. “I’ll be right back!” Remus shouted over the noise, leaning out between the aluminum doors to be heard. “Probably! And—god, sorry I left, that was a dick move!”

“It’s fine!”

“Not really! I didn’t want to!”

Sirius barked a laugh. “I’m glad!”

A laugh simmered in his own chest, fighting to get out. He started to speak again (though to say what, he wasn’t sure) only to be silenced by a quick, chaste press of lips on his own. He sat hard on the cold bench behind him.

“Screaming people,” Sirius said. A grin dimpled his cheek. “Go get ‘em.”

The ambulance jerked forward; Remus kept his side of the doors open as long as he could, spellbound, just to see him stand there against the reds and golds of their shared home. The slam of aluminum and steel dragged him from his dazed reverie. He pressed back against the wall and blinked the stars out of his eyes.

On the opposite bench, Leo clucked his tongue. “So that’s where your shirt went.”