O’Knutzy Week 2026

Leo comes with a sharp cry and a moan that lingers somewhere low in his chest. It breaks over him like waves on the beach, the undertow that pulls him deeper and the gasping when he spills out the other side. Finn follows with his nose buried in the crease of Leo’s hip, wet mouth open and panting against his skin. Aftershocks spark hot and fast; he sucks a mark there, and a second. Licks at Leo’s inner thighs and the shivering mess of his lower belly, still jumping with each lave of his tongue. The hair on his thighs is soft under Finn’s hands, nearly invisible in its blondness. It’s coarser on his calves where they wrap around him while Leo tries (and fails) to catch his breath. The bedroom fan hums. Finn digs his fingertips into the thick, sun-flecked flesh joining the angles of Leo’s waist to the pert roundness of his ass. The tan line there that wraps around Leo, so fucking low, teases him—he licks that, too.

Finn loses himself in kissing his way up the rest of Leo’s body until it’s just them, in the memory of the pounding heat outside, tangled up in the kind of decadence he’s still getting used to. The drumming song in his head is only pleasure; it leaves his mouth slack when he nudges into the salt of Leo’s chest and lays all his weight down. His lips are numb. His jaw screams. Leo brings him closer when Finn gets at his throat with a touch of teeth and a puppylike snarl, and laughs, and all thought of soreness flees.

His phone pings with an all-too-familiar text tone. Leo’s fingertips press into his bare back. His knee hitches around Finn to keep him there, even as Finn raises his head to brush their noses together. Leo’s mouth is soft under his fingertips, and his eyes, blown black-blue. Finn makes himself look away to leave a kiss at his collarbone. “Your Lo’s calling.”

He feels Leo inhale, all sweet pleasure with the arch of his body against him. Finn would swear in front of any judge that that blush tastes like raspberries when he kisses each of Leo's cheeks. His brain sparks and fizzes at the thought of getting hard again this soon. It would hurt. He doesn’t care. Leo guides him up by the back of his hair until they’re eye-level again and—Finn never stood a chance—draws his thumb over the corner of Finn’s lips. “You gonna tell me what he wants?”

For one wild moment, Finn considers ignoring the text. They could go another round. Logan’s patient.

Hm. No, he’s not.

“As you wish,” Finn promises. That smile. Fucking Christ Almighty and the rest of them, too. He nestles himself between Leo’s thighs again (his hips this time, instead of his shoulders) and reaches blindly for their nightstand while grazing a few more pecks across the slight arc of his clavicle. He makes sure to mouth at Leo’s sensitive ears and the place one meets his neck, if only to keep him laughing like that. Once he’s sure Leo will survive a few seconds without being kissed, he props himself on his elbows with a groan and squints down at the screen. Leo’s clever hands slip down to hold his waist. The base part of his brain tells him those big paws could reach the whole way around. Sometimes, he thinks they should give it a shot.

"One new message from Logan Tob-oh-gan Trebamalay," he reads aloud, carding through the side of Leo’s sweaty hair where it halos him against blue cotton in the safe bracket of Finn’s forearms. “Forgot my keys. Outside.”

Leo snorts, covering his eyes with one hand. “God, Lo.”

A knock sounds at the front door. They lose themselves in giggling.

--

Logan is getting impatient.

They’re home. He checked their location twenty minutes ago, when he realized his house key was still in the bowl, and fifty-five seconds ago, when peering through the peephole gave him absolutely no clues.

The door swings open. Logan loses every thought skipping through his head like a seventy-car pileup.

“Well, hello,” Finn says, leaning his forearm on the doorway beside them. “No solicitors, please. Didn’t you see the sign?”

His hip is cocked, his bicep flexed, his abs right there for Logan to touch (he wouldn’t even have to reach far), but it’s none of that that draws Logan’s entire focus to a single pinpoint. It’s his mouth. Grinning and sharp-toothed and red. Red, red, and wet as a cherry when the thin skin first pops and leaves Finn to slurp the juice off his hand. It looks like it hurts. He could slip two fingers into the heat of Finn’s mouth and never feel a moment of friction.

Belatedly, Logan realizes Finn’s wearing Leo’s underwear. The hand not drumming along their doorframe with faux exasperation bunches the cotton and elastic over the jut of his hip.

Finn’s still sweaty. Fucking fuck.

Logan only catches a glimpse of the red hair trailing down below Finn’s navel when that hand twists in the front of his shirt and yanks him inside. His back slams the door shut behind them, and then it’s mouth and tongue and lips and mouth, hungry, nibbling at Logan between breaths hotter than the sidewalk outside. Finn licks past his teeth before Logan can beat him to it: salt, himself, and Leo. Logan’s head spins and spins. His dick throbs. He shoves both hands down the front of Finn’s—Leo’s—boxers and groans at the sticky dampness still clinging to him, swallowing down Finn’s hiss when he closes a hand around the mostly-soft length of him.

“Harzy…”

Finn’s shiver ricochets off Logan’s clinging hands. Logan can’t blame him. Leo’s demands are clear and precise even in just one word, and he nudges his nose to Finn’s cheek to kiss the corner of his smile before taking him by the hand to pull him down the hall.

The sight that greets him is—

“Fuck.”

It’s—yeah. Fuck. Logan’s brain supplies nothing else. Leo smiles up at him sweetly. The utter wreck of their bed hugs him close where he lounges, debauched, flushed from head to toe in pretty patterns with one hand propping his chin up from the pillows.

“Hi, Lo,” he says softly.

Logan hears himself make a suffering sort of noise. He looks at Finn, and with a wave of his hand only manages, “without me?”

The boxers slump dangerously low. Finn scratches the side of his nose. He still hasn’t looked away from Leo, and Logan can’t blame him. “Yeah, this was…” Finn blows out a breath. “Entirely my fault.”

“Without me?”

“We can go again,” Leo volunteers, always such a team player even when he’s looking at Finn like a goddamn lynx. Logan kind of wants those teeth to sink into his jugular, next. He has to press the heel of his palm against himself when Leo rolls languidly onto his back and flexes his ankles all the way to the end of the bed. All. The way. “Right, Harz?”

“Yeah,” Finn says immediately. “Yeah, please. Yes.”

Logan can’t think. Leo had come—on himself, he realizes, though most of the mess is gone. Finn had still been sticky, and Leo was still catching his breath, if the fading color on his face and chest said anything at all. Leo had come, and it was recent.

He doesn’t bother asking when. His pants hit the floor in a heap; he kicks his ankle free, already reaching for Leo across the short expanse of ruined sheets. Logan hears Finn curse behind him at the same time Leo cups his face in his palms and pulls him down for a deep, pleased kiss. Logan feels his chest hum and goes lax. His weight makes Leo smile, and an arm comes around his shoulders to flip them over.

“Off,” Leo requests, pushing his hands up under Logan’s shirt.

Logan’s eyes flutter shut when cool bedroom air bathes his chest. Leo’s hands are quick to follow, and his thigh slots between Logan’s so smoothly he’s already kissing the hiss from Logan’s mouth by the time it slips out. Logan grinds up against him, feeling the mattress dip when Finn joins them. He knots one hand in Leo’s mussed curls and flails the other out in Finn’s general direction. The backs of his fingers slap against skin and he hears Finn laugh, even through Leo’s low noise when he gives his hair a tug. There, there, there—

“Pull harder,” Leo mumbles into his mouth.

It quakes through Logan whip-fast. Leo’s not giving him much, but it’s everything and more. Logan can feel his quad flex and release in the smallest motions to help him along, to ease the way, to meet him where he’s at because Leo knows better than anyone how hard it is to rock against someone when you’re pinned down tight by a strong body and a loving mouth.

That thought alone gets Logan over the cusp of the first one. His hips buck; the glide smooths, and so does Leo’s grin.

“Fuck,” he grates out. “Merde, Le.”

“Keep going.” Breath, hot between them. What Finn must have done to him to keep Leo’s lips unswollen…Logan feels himself twitch, thighs clenching around Leo’s own.

He pulls back to catch his breath, though it does little when every bit of motion steals it anew. Finn’s already looking back when Logan finds him, idly splayed over the other half of the mattress like a lord or a prince of their tiny castle. Humor quirks his mouth. “Hot out there, huh?”

Logan whines.

“Pretty hot in here, too.” Finn thumbs over his cheekbone when the fireworks of Leo’s teeth on his neck make Logan groan. “Poor thing. You didn’t even get a warning.”

He’s going to come again. He can feel it, low in his belly, tingling up his legs. “What’d you—” Logan breaks to land a few desperate kisses over Leo’s mouth. “What’d you do? Tell me.”

Finn wets his lips, though he hardly needs to. Logan’s seen him like that before. It used to scour his insides with fervent envy, made worse by the rumors that dogged Finn’s reputation through their last years because he knew they were true. He’d seen half the girls, and knew about the rest. Logan had always been proud that his own name was never mentioned far behind.

Leo’s the lucky one, tonight and forever. As his second orgasm hits like a landslide, Logan’s never been less jealous in his life.

Finn pets his hair off his forehead and helps him through it with his mouth on Logan’s shoulder, his chest, the brush of a nipple, heightening the rush of Leo’s thigh pressed flush against him and his body covering Logan from top to bottom. A sigh whispers across the sweat just beading over Logan’s neck. Leo nuzzles up to the hinge of his jaw in unabashed contentment.

“He put my knees all the way up here.”

Logan shuts his eyes. The butter-thick accent is a cruelty and a blessing.

Leo sighs again, as if the memory is too good to trim down. “Didn’t get ‘em back for ages. Kept me spread open like a damn book.”

“So good…” Finn says into the crown of his head.

And isn’t that a picture.

Leo’s index finger trails across Logan’s collarbones; left, then right. Down his sternum, over his tattoo, tracing his v-line, all while avoiding his cock with tantalizing intention. Logan feels a little like he’s going to pass out if they don’t fucking do something soon—

“What’s wrong, Lo? What happened?” When Logan didn’t answer, instead scooting closer to Finn, taking his hand, and glaring at the cashier, Finn looked nervously at Leo. 

“Lo’s angry because they’ve insulted my French.” 

“Called it an American trying too hard.” Logan nearly snarled. 

“And I said it’s fine, Lo. They’ve probably not heard the Louisiana French accent before. You thought it was strange the first time you heard it!” 

“Your accent’s adorable, Peanut,” Finn argued. “And sexy.” 

“Très mignon,” Logan added. "Et très sexy."

“But different from the norm,” Leo reasoned. 

“That’s no excuse…” Logan said, moving to get up. Finn snaked his arm around him, pulling him into his side instead. 

“Oh, my poor Canadian and baby Southerner. Too used to the nice people around them. I’ve heard some French people can rival even New Yorkers in their snark! Hey, I’m walkin’ ‘ere!” Finn said in a much harsher accent than he actually had. It had the intended effect, making Leo laugh and the crease between Logan’s brows ease. 

“Rouge, in my short time living in New York,” Leo tensed just a bit, but they both noticed, Logan immediately running a hand down his back and landing a kiss on his cheek, “I can confidently say I never heard any New Yorker say that.” 

“Well now you have!” Finn smiled at them. Then moved to get up. “Still planning on getting that chocolate croissant to go?” Logan nodded, giving him a questioning look. 

“Oui, I was going to get un pain au chocolat. But not after they’ve treated Le like that.” 

Leo looked ready to protest the statement once again, but Finn didn’t give him the chance. 

“Let me give it a shot, huh?” And Finn was up out of his seat before they could stop him. 

“What?” 

“Rouge, wait!” 

But Finn was already at the counter. 

“Uno pan of chocolate, see voos play,” he said, grinning. 

The man in front of the register’s mouth dropped open. The younger woman behind the counter muttered something like “Americain.” He grinned over at his boys, who now had their own mouths wide open in shock. Logan even looked a little embarrassed. 

“Un pain au chocolat, monsieur?” 

“Um, yon, I mean oh-we! That’s what I want, please, miz-your.” 

When they handed him the food, he let out a “mercy boo coo!” 

Then he felt a hand grab his and pull him straight out the door. 

In the warm air of Paris, he grinned over at Logan, who was now glaring at him. 

“Rouge, you’re going to start the next revolution.” 

He laughed as he placed the pain au chocolat in Logan’s other hand, and took Leo’s hand, too. He brought both hands to his mouth for a kiss. 

“Jay tem Lolo! Jay tem butter baby!” 

They both winced. 

“I can’t believe you did that!” Leo said, grinning at him. 

“No one insults my nutter butter sunshine baby!” 

They continued walking, protective tension still in Logan’s shoulders. 

“Look loves, we’re not here to impress the French with our knowledge of the French language! Although I bet either of you know more than anyone here,” both boys looked about to protest, but Finn continued. “We’re here to kiss under the Eiffel Tower! Alletz go!” 

And that’s just what they did. 

----------------------------

I know that not everyone in France is rude, I promise! 

I absolutely love reading/writing about crazyboy Finn. I love when he's overly energetic and somewhat unhinged for his boys! He loves them so much and protects in his own way, and just brings so much joy!

And finally, my final bingo card for O'Knutzy Week 2026! I really had so much fun this week!

Putting on his best calm voice, he tried to reason with him. 

“I know, bud. But it’s all we have. We didn’t have a chance to go shopping this weekend to get the cherry yogurt.” 

But, as he should have already known, he couldn’t convince the two-year-old. 

“Just eat what you have so we can go to the park, Oggie!” Margo said, clearly frustrated that breakfast was taking so long.

The blond boy considered this, but then shook his head. 

“Don’ like booberries.” 

“How many bites, Daddy?” Margo asked, ready to negotiate with the toddler. 

“How about two bites of vanilla yogurt and two slices of banana?” 

“You can do that, Oggie! I bet I can finish before you can!” Margo encouraged. For a five-year-old, she was turning out to be a great cheer-leader. And she knew how to make everything into a game to entice her little brother. He could already see some competitiveness brewing in both kids. Leo smiled fondly as Oliver started picking at his food, shoving a slice of banana in his mouth. 

“There you go, bud.” 

Then his phone rang from where he left it on the side of the stove. 

“Keep going,” he stepped away to take the call, not checking the caller ID before answering. 

“Hello, is this Leo Knut?” A woman’s voice asked. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“I’m calling from the Gryffindor public hospital. You’re listed as Finn O’Hara’s emergency contact. He was brought in a few minutes ago…” And Leo barely heard anything else before he was running.

------

All flavors of yogurt forgotten, he had run back to the table, trying to keep a calm voice, telling the kids they had to leave, phone ringing on his ear as he hurried to get their boots and coats on. 

“Leo? Hello?” 

“Yes, hi Pascal. I…” He lowered his voice, stepping slightly away as Margo helped Oliver with his coat, the boy looking nervously around him. “Finn’s been taken to the hospital. Is it alright if I drop the kids off at yours?” 

“Of course.” Pascal’s voice had gotten serious, and he called out to someone on his end. Leo helped zip up Oliver and Margo’s coat before grabbing the keys and stepping out the door, Oliver’s hand in his. “Celeste is going to watch them. I’ll come with you. Do you know what happened?” 

“No, all I know is that he’s unconscious and they're checking for a concussion because of his history.” 

“But what about breakfast, Daddy?” Margo asked, trying her best to buckle herself into her car seat. 

“I’m sure Celeste has something for you to eat there.” 

There was a humming noise of affirmation on the other side of the phone. 

He finished buckling Oliver in one-handed, then moved to check on Margo, who had buckled herself in correctly. He hopped into the front seat and was off, phone now connecting to the bluetooth. 

“Alright, it’s going to be okay, we just need to…” 

“Hey, Pascal,” Leo interrupted. “Just letting you know I switched to the speaker in the car.” 

“Pépé Pascal!” Margo called from the back. 

“Bonjour, mon chou, et Olivier, mon autre chou. Okay, I’ll talk once you get here, Leo.” 

“Thanks, Dumo.” 

About twenty minutes later, they were on the road once more, two kids dropped off, one very happy two-year-old having been presented with cherry yogurt, and Pascal now in the driver’s seat. 

“Why don’t you give Logan a call. You might be able to catch him before he gets out on the ice.” 

Leo nodded, glad Pascal was walking him through this as his brain felt frantic and all over the place in panic. 

Pressing on Logan’s contact, he hoped that the hospital hadn’t reached him first, knowing the news might come slightly better from Leo than straight from the hospital. 

Logan picked up before the second ring. 

“What’s happening, mon soleil? I got a message from the hospital. I haven’t listened to it yet, but…” 

“I know, it’s…” but Logan interrupted him with a completely panicked tone.

“Margo? Vivi? Mon dieu, oh God.” 

“No, Lo, they’re okay. They’re fine. It’s not either of them.”  

Logan’s voice now hitched with panic. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, Lo, look, it’s…” 

“Rouge.” 

“Yeah. Something happened at work. They said he was stable, but unconscious and getting checked out for a concussion.” 

He heard the breath being sucked in from the other side and a murmured curse. Then, “I’m on my way.” 

“Don’t drive.” 

“Non, I’ll get Alex to take me.” 

“Okay.” Leo counted himself lucky that Alex was now on the Lions, along with Logan. He couldn’t imagine having to call Logan from New York with this news. 

They were silent for a minute as Leo listened to Logan rushing around on the other side of the phone, panicked voice calling out to Alex. Then he was back, and Leo felt his heart slow a little. 

“Are you there? At the hospital?” 

“Almost. Pascal’s driving me there right now. Dropped the kids off with Celeste.” 

Logan’s voice was muffled once more as he said something to someone on the other side, presumably Alex or Arthur. 

“Are you okay, Le?” Logan sounded like he was in the echoes of the locker room, probably pulling off his skates and grabbing his bag. 

“I already told you, I’m not the one…” 

“Non, Le. I know you’re not hurt, but are you alright?” 

Leo paused at that. 

One would think that after having seen someone hurt so many times, feeling that heart-wrenching, breath-catching panic, that it would get easier to see. To feel. To experience. 

But it wasn’t. 

And this was somehow worse. 

In hockey, there was always a chance that players would get hurt. It came with the territory of the game. It was a risk they all chose to take each time they stepped out on the ice. 

But Finn had retired. He was supposed to stop getting hurt. Was supposed to be safe.

“Um, not really,” Leo heard himself say. Then shook the thoughts away. “Um… I mean… I’ll…I’ll be okay once I see that he’s okay.” 

“Oui. Oui, je sais, Le. I understand. Hold in there, I’m coming. Stay on the phone, d’accord? Stay on the phone until I’m there with you. Until you see that he’s okay, ouias? Stay on for me?” 

“Yes, okay. I’m staying.” 

“Good, Le. That’s good.” 

-----

Finn turned out to be completely okay, other than a sprained wrist and no concussion, but a nasty bump on the back of his head that had been bandaged. 

“I told them I don’t remember hitting my head. But I must have, huh?” He asked as Logan and Alex rushed in the room. 

“Rouge,” Logan gasped, collapsing at his side, and Alex looked on from closer to the doorway. 

“I like your shirt. Why are you wearing all that hockey stuff, huh?” He glanced at Alex. “Hey, aren’t you a Ranger?” 

When Leo had entered, Finn had been confused as to why he was there, telling him he should be at hockey practice, something that Leo hadn’t participated in in five years. Leo had had to check with the nurse to confirm that the confusion wasn’t from a concussion, but was rather from the pain meds he had been given for his wrist. 

Logan glanced at Leo in confusion, but he shook his head, reaching over from his spot on the bed next to Finn to squeeze Logan’s shoulder. 

“Pain meds.” Logan nodded in understanding, but didn’t look all too settled.  

“Rouge, are you okay? What happened?” Logan said, kissing Finn’s cheek. Leo had been debriefed by the nurse when he got there, hanging up the phone only when he realized the connection wasn’t working on one of their ends. But by that point, Logan had been nearly there. 

“Hey, you missed my lips, LoLo!” Finn said, turning his head and jutting out his jaw. Logan frowned, still looking extremely nervous. He settled a soft kiss on Finn’s lips, then asked again. “Tell me what happened.” 

“Fell.” Logan looked to Leo and Pascal, who was sitting at the couch in the corner of the room. 

“The nurse said that he slipped and fell on campus, knocked his head on some ice, and he was unresponsive. They said the unconsciousness was because of his multiple past concussions.” Leo said, trying to remember all that the nurse had told him. “And he has a sprained wrist.” Logan glanced down at the wrapped up appendage, giving it a soft kiss and then moving back to look at Finn. 

“Can’t take you anywhere, huh?” 

“I slipped!” Finn said, suddenly. “On ice!” Then he began laughing, starting off softly, and then moving to be huge rolls of laughter, mixed with some words. “ On ice!” “Used to…hockey!” “I slipped!” 

“Is he…good?” Leo asked, glancing at Alex, who looked less freaked out than the rest of them. 

“He’s done this before. His first concussion. Found it hilarious that he knocked into the goalpost.” Leo winced and saw a matching look on Logan’s face. “Might just be the shock and painkillers mixed together. Or my baby brother’s officially lost it.” He stepped closer, now leaning over Finn. “Hey, Fish. What’s so funny?”  

Only then did Finn stop laughing and glanced up, staring at them, beaming. 

“I played hockey for years and years and years, and I was a professional athlete and now I’m still slipping all over the ice as a professor! Ice has bested me once again!” He laughed again. “Really miss my pads. And my helmet.” He reached back to feel the bump on his head, but Logan stopped him, gently grabbing his injured wrist.

“Mmm-hmm.” Leo said, not completely convinced that Finn was okay. 

“Please be more careful, mon poisson,” Logan said, kissing Finn’s cheek once more. 

“Yes, please, Harz,” Leo said, returning a kiss on the other side. 

“Anything for you, mine LoLo and mine sole-eel.” 

“And on that note of français abominable…I’m going to get you some ice water, Finn. Anyone need anything else?” Pascal asked, stepping toward the door

This set Finn off once more, the red head dissolving into giggles muttering “ha, ice water.”

“It is not that funny, Rouge.” 

“You might change your mind once we’re out there.” 

“No, Daddy!” 

Oliver was a sweet kid, but when it came to something he didn’t want to do, like swimming, he stood firm and got stubborn and grumpy. Leo and Finn swore it was a habit he had picked up from Logan. Logan argued that he had not necessarily been a sweet kid, which had been confirmed by his sisters. 

Leo sighed, taking a breath to regain his patience, as he often did since becoming a father. It was taking longer to get three kids ready to go out on a boat than the actual time they’d be on said boat. 

“G’mornin’ my Lelo and my Ollie Bug and my Emmy Lou!” Leo sighed with relief as dirty blond hair came into view through the front door. 

Thank God. 

“What do you need from me?” Eloise Knut asked as she looked up from kissing the kids good morning, noticing the look on his face. 

“I…could you hold Millie? I need to check and see what’s taking the boys so long.” She opened her arms, more than happy to take her granddaughter onto her hip as Millie cooed. 

“Last I heard, Wyatt and Logan were looking for a missing lifejacket. I didn’t see Finn or Mags.” 

“Alright. Ollie, are your goggles in the swim bag?” 

Oliver shrugged, avoiding eye contact. His fear of swimming was worrying, especially since he had refused to learn and he was about to turn five years old. Then the boys was instead distracted by a heron flying overhead. 

“Grandmama, look!” 

Leo sighed once again, stepping into the house. Nearly running face first into Finn, leading Margo out of the house, bags slung on his shoulder. 

“Sorry, Daddy,” Margo said, giving him a hug around the middle, then side stepping him to go hug her grandma. 

“Yeah, sorry, nutter butter,” Finn said with a grin. Then his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong, you look stressed?” 

“I…this parenting thing is hard,” a phrase that they often used to mean I’m at the end of my rope here. 

“Oh, Le. How can I help?” Finn put the bags down, circling Leo into his arms. “What do you still need to do before we leave?” 

“You want a list?” Leo asked a bit sarcastically, but Finn nodded. 

“Actually, yes. I want to help and your brain’s so organized all the time. You always know what everyone needs. We’d be a total mess without you.” Leo blushed, rolling his eyes a bit at the praise. Although it was making him feel a little better. 

“Alright. I have to find Oliver’s goggles. I think they’re in the swim bag, but he also might have hidden them as an excuse not to swim. And then I think I forgot Millie’s baby sunscreen, and you know how her skin is.” 

“Soft and sensitive, like a baby, and just like our Logan,” Finn supplied. 

“Right. And I don’t know if my mama packed drinks in the truck. And then…” Leo looked down. There was one other thing. “Oh yeah, I need my own swim suit.” 

“Okay, I’ll look for the goggles and make sure we have drinks. You grab the baby sunscreen and your own swimsuit. And maybe get Lo and your dad down here if possible. Okay?” 

“Okay, thanks Fish.” Finn grabbed his face and placed a kiss on his forehead. “And tomorrow, your parents are bringing the kids to that festival, and we can have the day to ourselves to relax because we’re on vacation!” Leo smiled. He loved the kids. So much. But it would be nice to have his parents take them out so they could have a quiet morning in. Or, as Finn and Logan had insisted, maybe a not-so-quiet morning in. 

It had become a nearly yearly tradition for them to visit his family near the summer solstice. There were a bunch of festivals in New Orleans to celebrate the solstice, including a fair that his parents would be bringing the kids to tomorrow. But today, as much as he may be regretting it, he had promised them they could go out on the boat. 

---

When they were finally, finally out the door, and about to board the boat, Logan gave him a kiss on the side of his head, running one hand along his face, gaining his attention. 

“Is your sunburn feeling okay? Your face is very red today.” Then he turned to the boy in his arms. “Did you steal all the sunscreen for yourself, Vivi?” 

Oliver laughed. 

“No, Papa. You’re silly!” 

Luckily he was in a better mood now. 

“Are we going to get you out in the water today, huh?” 

Oliver shook his head. Logan nodded. They wouldn’t ever force him to swim. But they could at least hope to get him in the water. 

Finn came up to them, bag in one arm and Millie in the other, now wearing her strawberry sunhat. 

“Aw, Margo’s old hat! Une autre petite fraise!” Logan gave her cheek a kiss. 

“Okay, all. Onto the boat!” Wyatt called out. As Margo ran ahead to be the first on, Oliver wiggled to get out of Logan’s arms to run after her. They had somehow wrestled him into his life jacket, and also convinced Margo to wear hers. Small victories. “Careful now, we don’t want anyone slipping. We don’t need you matching your Daddy in that way!” Wyatt called as he steadied the kids with a hand up into the boat. 

Although Wyatt hadn’t been around to see the incident that had led to Leo’s gray spot, his mama had mentioned it often enough, reminded each time they got on a boat. He had been about the same age as Oliver was now, but certainly much more excited about the swimming aspect, trying to jump off the side of the boat but slipping and knocking his head on the way down. Luckily, he had been wearing a life jacket and his mom had easily fished him out of the water, spluttering and crying. He had been taken straight to the hospital, reinforcing the importance of boat safety to all of the adults and his two cousins who had been there to see it happen. 

“C’est exact, fais attention,” Logan called, hurrying after the kids. Logan smiled, taking the baby from Finn’s arms, kissing her to a shriek of “Daddy!” as they made their way toward the boat. 

“We need to get some sunscreen on you, Mils. Just because you might just tan like your Papa, you still need to wear sunscreen.” Which reminded him. “Did Lo put some on?” He asked as Finn helped steady his arm as he climbed onto the boat. 

“No idea. I put some on Margo and Ollie in the car.” Finn helped him settle in a seat with Millie on his lap, babbling away. “Hey, Lo!” Finn called him over, asking if he had sunscreen on, and looking a bit guilty, Logan shook his head, taking the bag and fishing through it. He held out the baby sunscreen and then found some of the regular stuff. 

Finn knelt in front of him and began putting some on Millie’s face, and she sputtered and began whining. 

“Non!” She turned her face into Leo’s shoulder, crying out once again. “Non!” 

Leo adjusted her, but she kicked out her feet and flailed her arms, catching a particularly sunburned part of his face, making him hiss out. 

“Ici, soleil.” Logan gently plucked her up, then cooing and attacking her cheek with kisses, Finn was able to get some sunscreen around her arms and legs. Then Logan held her out and Finn quickly got her face before giving her a quick kiss on her cheek himself, standing back up straight and landing one on Logan’s jaw line. 

“Ah, sunscreen!” Finn said, wiping at his mouth. 

“You literally saw me put it on. Don’t know what you expected, rouge.” 

They all took a seat as Wyatt started up the boat. 

“Wait, did you put on sunscreen, Le?” Logan asked. 

That was a good question. He supposed in the rush to leave, he didn’t get a chance to. His face must have said it all, because then he was being attacked with cold sunscreen hands on his face. 

“No more Lobster Leo allowed!” 

“Papa, Dada, Daddy, when can we swim?” Margo asked, coming up to them and leaned onto his lap, Oliver beside her. 

“As soon as we get to a good stopping point. Probably a few more minutes, punkin.” 

“Will you swim wif us?” Oliver asked and Leo’s heart soared with hope. 

“Of course, bud. Are you going to try it?” 

Oliver nodded, tentatively. Leo’s heart soared with relief. 

“But you hafta hold on. I don’t wanna go under.” 

“Of course we will, Ols. You’ll be safe with us,” Finn said, grabbing the boy and pulling him into his lap. 

“Dada! You’re gross and sweaty! An’ it’s too hot!” Oliver’s curls were already sticking to his head in a way that Leo could guess his probably were, as well. Although he hadn’t lived in Louisiana for awhile, he was still used to the heat after spending 18 summers there. But Oliver was much like his Papa with respect to the extreme heat, Logan already looking miserably hot from his spot on a boat seat. 

“Okay, okay,” Finn let go. “Maybe this summer, we can sign you up for your big boy swim lessons, huh?” 

They had held off for another year last year, the pool offering parent and child lessons up to four-years old. And Oliver had been terrified of the water. It was an activity that Logan often did with the kids during his time off from hockey, and Emilie had been too little to start hers. But this year, they were hoping to get him in beginner independent lessons. This interest in swimming gave them hope. 

“An’ you hafta protect me from alligators! I don’t want them to chomp off my toes!”  

Leo glared slightly at Finn, this new fear of Oliver’s coming from one small comment from Finn that he needed to wear shoes in the yard so that the “alligators won’t chomp off your toes.” 

Finn didn’t meet his eye, looking a little guilty, but said, “I promise we’ll be right there. Your Daddy’s a professional alligator wrangler, not to mention your Grandmama!” 

“Really?” Margo asked, perking up, and glancing at Eloise, who was now steering the boat. 

Leo laughed.

“You can ask her.” This had the two running off to ask, and Eloise caught them up in a hug, and an excited look, having Wyatt take the wheel as she told them a story about an alligator. 

“We don’t want alligators chomping up your toes, hey Millie?” Finn said, now miming chompers with his hands, tickling her feet as she squirmed and squealed. 

“Dada! Dada!” 

Leo leaned back, watching the sun peak between the clouds. 

Ah, what a summer this was turning out to be. 

--------------------

Thanks for reading!

Just as a sidenote, I headcanon that Wyatt is actually Leo’s step-dad. Background on this: When I was originally reading SW/Vaincre and fanfics based off of them, I saw a lot about mama’s boy Leo and I thought that Eloise was a single mom. So when I found out Wyatt existed, I decided that (in my headcanon) Wyatt is Leo’s step-dad and has been since Leo was about 12 (Leo’s never met his bio-dad, and he calls Wyatt “Dad”). I also liked the idea of Eloise Knut being a single mom for years, raising a completely self-sufficient, loving, (and also adorable) mama’s boy.

It was 3 o’clock in the morning, and Finn was awake.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen that hour tick over. College, maybe. He almost hadn’t believed it when he checked his phone.

His heart still pounded, low in his stomach, low enough that he could feel it when he ran a hand from his sternum to his navel and back again. God. Fuck. He could feel it in his throat, too, clenching and releasing. He didn’t want to move; Logan was cuddly tonight, curled so tight to the side of Finn’s body that there was no way to get up and walk this clinging thing off without waking him. No way at all.

Finn laid his head back on the pillow and tried to breathe it out. Leo, at least, was asleep. He could hear it in the slow inhales from the other side of the bed. Logan’s arm was a concrete bar over Finn’s stomach, his thigh weighing both of Finn’s legs down. His lips were slightly parted. Soft hair tickled Finn’s nose where Logan had burrowed into him.

“Lo.”

The smallest, slightest hitch of breath.

Finn lowered his voice and trailed his knuckles up the ridges of Logan’s bare back. “Lo.”

Logan mumbled something, lashes fluttering. His nose nudged under Finn’s jaw. A long exhale cooled Finn’s skin, still damp with sweat.

“Logan,” he whispered, and bent to kiss Logan’s forehead. Warm as always. Their little radiator. “Lo, hey. Hey.”

Logan was awake between one breath and the next. Sleepy green eyes blinked up at him; his brow furrowed, cheeks pink at the top. He’d been deep under. Finn would feel bad about it later, but he waited patiently for Logan to look down at their tangled bodies and back over his shoulder at Leo. Could Logan feel his heart skittering away? He hoped not.

He hoped so.

“Too hot?” Logan asked, already starting to unwind his arm from Finn’s torso. He was still disoriented enough to drop the ‘h’. Something inside Finn heaved at the familiarity. A kiss bumped against his cheek, though it was more of a fond nuzzle than anything more. “Sorry, baby.”

“Hey, wait.”

Logan sat up on one elbow.

Finn didn’t know. He just didn’t know. He tugged at the drawstring of Logan’s shorts. “Can we…?”

The sleepy blur was gone. Logan glanced down. “Now?”

“No, no, I…” Finn shook his head. He didn’t know. “Not that. Can we go outside?”

Logan looked toward the window, then back at him. “Outside?”

Finn fought down a small shiver and tucked his feet deeper under the blankets. “Yeah. Just—just for a minute?”

That look. He’d died for that look, once. The closeness, the focus. He’d felt it burn right through him from every angle of every room they entered.

“Okay,” Logan said slowly, quietly. He cast one more glance at Leo’s slumbering shape. “It’s early.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re awake.”

Finn didn’t have to answer. Logan wasn’t looking for one—his face said plenty. He knew. Finn twisted the drawstring around his first two fingers and pulled. Logan’s mouth fell into a gentle frown, but he helped Finn ease the covers back and slipped out of bed behind him.

It was cooler in the living room. Finn poured himself a glass of water, though he didn’t really want it. The coldness on his palms helped. He could feel Logan behind him, lingering in the space between the kitchen and the sofa. He downed the water in two gulps, then refilled the glass, bracing both hands on the sink in the meantime. He just had to get a fucking grip.

A hand found the small of his back and Finn’s throat tightened. He looked away, to the side, to the safety of the key bowl by the front door and their haphazard shoe pile. He’d organize that in the morning. Maybe tonight, if he couldn’t make his mouth work.

“Fish?”

“Yeah,” he managed, rough. Logan’s thumb, rubbing tiny circles over his skin, stopped. Finn nodded. “Yeah, c’mon.”

Logan followed. His shadow, even in the dark.

The city was still up. Cars and people, lights in the distance. Finn abandoned his water on the tiny mosaic table by the balcony doors and let Logan close it behind them. The railing bit into his forearms. It was still mild, for June. Someone had pinned a pride flag to the complex across the street already. A siren wailed down Main, ten blocks down. If they were in New York, he would’ve taken them out onto the fire escape outside his bedroom window. His bedroom. Not Logan’s.

Tentative hands on his hips lost their hesitation when Finn didn’t flinch away, wrapping around him from behind. Comfortable weight against his back; a head resting between his shoulders. “You’re hot.”

“Thanks.”

Logan’s little puff of disapproval made him smile despite himself. He ran a hand over Logan’s forearm, though his palms were probably cold. Maybe Logan would like it. He didn’t know. He hoped so. Logan liked the cold, even when it bit and howled and threatened to pull them both under.

“Is it bad news?”

Finn shook his head. “Just needed some air.”

He didn’t want to be standing anymore. If they went back to bed, he’d just lie there, blisteringly awake, and if he didn’t sleep then Logan wouldn’t sleep, and he really shouldn’t have brought Logan out here at all. He should’ve closed his eyes and let it go.

He was selfish. For lots of things, he figured, but especially for Logan. Years of hunger and then more more more.

“Sorry for waking you up.”

He felt Logan shake his head. “Don’t be.”

“Well, I am.”

“I want to be there.” Logan shifted. His chin rested where his cheek had been. “Here, I mean. For you.”

“Can we sit?”

But that wasn’t enough, either, and Finn realized it the second he folded his legs under himself and cool stone seeped through his pajama pants. It wasn’t enough, until his feet were stretched out toward the far railing and his head was on Logan’s chest, and Logan’s, on his shoulder, laying the opposite direction. Finn was so tired he could cry. The stars above turned hazy through his eyelashes. Logan’s heart thudded along.

“I need to know,” he whispered. His chest hurt like he’d been kicked. He rubbed the heel of his hand over it, back and forth, pushing the tightness away from the soft center. “I gotta know, Logan, I can’t—it was so bad. I know you love me—”

Logan’s breath caught.

“—I really do, I promise and I believe you and it’s so, sogood.” Finn cursed under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. Jesus, it’s so good now, I know you hate talking about it, I’m just having these fucking—dreams, and it’s us, in that fucking water, and it’s killing me, Lo, it’s killing me. I gotta know.”

To anyone else, he wouldn’t be making any sense. He was sweating again. He could feel it prickling his face and underarms. Leo could parse through his rambling, but he always asked questions, even just one to confirm that he understood. Finn loved that, he loved him, he loved how Leo always made sure people felt seen and heard and that he had got it all right. He was so kind. Finn felt—with Leo, he felt so real.

“I loved you.” His eyes burned. He should let Logan speak, but he couldn’t stop his trembling mouth. “God, Logan, I loved you so much it tore me to fucking pieces. And you knew.”

A firefly bloomed out of their potted violet. “I did,” Logan said quietly.

“I wanted—” Finn stopped himself. It would be easier to list the things he didn’t want, in those heartsick, aching days. “I wanted us. Every bit of it. Was it like that for you?”

It was, it was, he’d read it all over Logan and tasted it from his manic mouth in their stolen kisses. It had certainly felt like theft. Every kiss Finn got was one taken from someone else, someone Logan didn’t like half as much as he liked Finn. He didn’t have to ask. He’d seen those pleading green eyes and felt the way Logan’s whole body tilted toward him when he walked into a room.

“It was the end of the world.”

Finn closed his eyes.

Logan breathed out into the night air. “I was…out of control. This—pressure, in my head. I wanted you so bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Finn rasped.

“Non, it was everything to me.” Logan’s chest rose and fell, bringing his head with it. “I didn’t want it to be different.”

Wet warmth slid down to the shell of Finn’s ear.

“That was hard,” Logan added.

Hard. Understatement of the century. Flayed, more like, every nerve exposed. Finn pressed his lips together.

After a moment, he felt Logan’s fingertips come up to toy with the hair above his ear. “I didn’t know if I could tell anyone,” he said haltingly. “My sisters…Noelle guessed. Because of Nice, and the draft. I think they knew before. I think I wanted them to. I didn’t want to carry it by myself and—I don’t know. I think I wanted everyone to know. It was very confusing.”

I’m sorry, Finn’s mouth tried to say. He dug his teeth into the inside of his cheek.

“Not you, though. You never confused me.” Almost an afterthought, but Logan didn’t do those. He thought, fully and completely, even if he rarely said it all. Goosebumps flew down Finn’s arms despite the heat. “I wanted you to,” Logan continued. “To confuse me. You were so loud. Friendly, and so fun, and you made people laugh, you liked to read, you did all these things that I don’t. It made no sense. If you were confusing, I could let it go.”

Silence again. Finn couldn’t help it. “And?”

“And I loved you.” Simple. They’d never had simple in the way he wanted. “I loved you the whole time. I didn’t even ask questions about it.”

“You should have.”

“Yes.”

“You—” He should be angry, he really should. “Fuck, Lo, I asked.”

In his hair, Logan’s hand slowed. “You did.”

“You lied.”

“Non.”

Finn couldn’t do another cycle of this, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. He pushed the heels of his hands to his forehead as hard as he could, then folded them back on his stomach.

“I…” Another firefly. They’d come up in the park, soon. Logan sighed. “I thought I was going to ruin your life.”

“You couldn’t.” Ignoring the fact that he very nearly did, of course.

“You would never have seen the draft if we were out.” Finn caught a glimpse of his face when he turned, the unhappy set of his mouth. “You deserved the first round. Anything less would be an insult. My fault. You’re so brilliant.” It came out a whisper. Logan dragged a hand down his face with a small sound. “Finn, you’re…extraordinary. They would have been blind and stupid to draft you any lower than they did. But they would have. Because of me.”

“We could’ve been quiet.”

“I would never hide you,” Logan said immediately. “You deserved more.”

Finn sighed through his nose. Back to square one. “You’re saying a lot about what you think I deserve.”

“I know you.”

Finn’s lower lip shook in spite of him. He bit back a curse and pressed his thumb to the heat of his inner eye, where the wetness still hadn’t dried. “Yeah.”

“I know you,” Logan insisted, pulling him open all over again. “I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember what it felt like to not. And back then—at school—in the water. Telling you didn’t mean anything when I couldn’t show you.”

“It meant something to me,” Finn said thickly.

“I know.” Despair. Finn knew the feeling. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“It meant something. Everything you fucking did meant something to me, Logan.” Finn pressed his hands to his thighs until it hurt. “I felt like—it’s been so long. I’ve had nightmares about drowning for eight fucking years.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He could hear the tears in Logan’s whispers. Finally, they could be in the same boat. Finn looked up to the starless sky and laid his palm flat on the balcony floor; the other, he wrapped around Logan’s wrist behind him. He took an unsteady breath. “I’m not angry.”

“You can be.”

“I was. I was so angry with you. God, Logan, it ate me up.” The softest skin, right above his pulse. That had always made sense to Finn. His hard-shelled, soft-hearted boy. The admission felt too big for this place. “I get it, of course I do, I’m…I can’t love you quiet. Everyone can see it all over me.”

“I did,” Logan said miserably.

“Good.” Finn squeezed his wrist. “I wanted you to.”

Logan let it lie for a moment, then swore softly and pushed a hand through his hair, nearly black in the night. “I need to—I need to say something. I need you to let me say it.”

“Okay.”

But he didn’t speak, just breathed like each one took more effort than the last. “I love you.” A fast kiss found the side of Finn’s head. “Je t’aime, I love you, I always did.”

“I love you, too.” Finn waited, but when nothing else came, he tipped his head back on Logan’s shoulder. “Is that it?”

“Non.” Logan’s palm cupped his face, upside down and backwards, the warmest shelter from a mild night. Something stammered in his chest. His expression crumpled; he made a quiet sound, wordless and agonized, and kissed Finn’s forehead only to let his lips linger. “I’d do it again,” he murmured against Finn’s too-hot skin. “If I had to, for this. Never to hurt you, never that. But I’d do it.”

He would have loved Logan better than anyone. Logan would have loved him back. And none of it mattered, not even a little, because that choice was about as real as the leaves of their table’s mosaic tree. Finn covered his eyes and let Logan’s collarbone take the weight of his pounding head.

“It’s not fair.” He sounded like a child. He tried to choke it down, be an adult, be better than the worst of himself at age eighteen, but it just made the clogging, soggy thing in his throat even thicker. “I just wanted to love you, and it was just a fuckin’ massacre.”

Logan took him as he broke, like the waves had taken him until he gasped awake to a world only slightly kinder. Concrete sat hard and brutal under Finn’s shoulder when he turned on his side; it was quickly replaced by the give of Logan’s chest as he pulled him over in an awkward gathering of Finn’s puddle-body. He wasn’t much help, but he held tight to Logan, and something told him that was plenty.

“I loved you.” Finn’s voice cracked. It wasn’t even funny. “I love him.”

Something sob-like and snotty rattled Logan’s body.

“I love you.”

The sea, the wind—his dreams even gave him the gulls, the only audience to the worst day of Finn’s life. They never spoke in that in-between place. Logan’s eyes. Logan, pulling away, until the water took him under and tore salt through his body. The sun burned him, sometimes. Other nights, it blinded him, too far still for Finn to reach. Sometimes, it was a nightmare. Sometimes it felt like mercy.

Logan was saying it back, in the cool-warm-busy air of this dry night. Finn could hear himself trying to gulp down a breath, and beneath it, a resonance he’d never forget. Iron-clad Logan clutching him to his chest and the raw things beneath, his mouth to Finn’s temple and his body shielding him from the balcony’s unforgiving floor.

I’d do it again. For this.

No draft. No Gryffindor. No team, no Cup, no Cap, no flock of Dumaises. No Kasey Winter, Chekov’s fucking goalie for Finn to stumble upon. They would have watched Sirius and Remus kiss on the ice from a TV screen—or not at all. A lower league, if they were lucky. Different teams, certainly. He would have kept Logan for a few more years, and then, inevitably, they would lose each other. Or one of them would give up the game to stay together, and they’d lose each other in a whole new way too terrible to imagine.

Finn was avoiding the last and greatest loss. Ten, thirty, sixty years without Leo was not a life at all. His unwavering devotion, and a temper that could match Logan’s like wildfire hitting stone. Are you going to kiss me?, sly eyes still sweet and eager, already reaching for Finn. His kisses took Finn out of the hurricane of his own head and set both his feet on the ground. Here, they said. You’re staying here with me. Yes, you, in all you are.

Hurt and hurt and pain and Logan. As much as it was misery, it was Logan, and that had been worth it. Still was.

“You have to tell me,” Finn sobbed. “You have to tell me.”

“I loved you every day.” It tore from him, trembling. Logan took a sticky-sounding breath. “Every minute. Crisse, Finn, it drove me out of my mind. I would think about you when I was doing my fucking laundry, just—wishing you were there with me. Can you believe that?”

He could. He did. He’d lived it and it haunted him and Finn had begged on his knees for some karmic force to take it away from him without ever meaning a single word.

“I would wake up afraid,” Logan continued, shivering under him, quick and shallow. “Sometimes…sometimes I still don’t know how to love you without being afraid. But I do. I’m so sorry. I loved you at Harvard, and here. At home, and New York, in New Orleans, and—the way he loves you, Fish, I wish you could see it like I do.”

Finn couldn’t have left Logan’s hold if he tried. Finally. At last.

“It’s like looking into the sun.” Logan’s hand vanished from his shoulder for only a second. Finn heard him wipe his nose. “Merde. Fuck. Do you remember the solstice?”

Finn huddled into the caving space of his chest. Sweat and sleep and home. “Which one?”

“New Orleans.”

New Orleans, Louisiana, on the longest day of the year. Finn remembered.

It had been him and Leo in the hammock, giggling into each others’ faces and half a hundred kisses from the uncoordinated struggle into their sticky-hot shelter. Leo’s hands were still callused. His smiling mouth, sweet and bitter from tea. Finn had wanted to lick up every drop of it.

“I could hear you laughing from ten feet away.”

I love having you here. Leo’s hand on his jaw, gentle-firm, shaking back and forth with a flash of his teeth. God, Finn, I love it so much.

“I don’t know if I ever made you laugh like that at school,” Logan said in a small voice. His fingers slipped through Finn’s hair to cradle the back of his head. “I would dream about it, though. I’m…I still don’t know which ones were real. I wanted to make you laugh like that. A lover. Not like a friend.”

“You did,” Finn whispered. So many times. His whole body had hurt from it.

“Are we—oh.”

Finn blinked the salt-crust from his eyes and peered out into the dark. It fizzed and blurred into the vague shapes of buildings; a smear of color here, wind buffeting their flowers there. Inside, the kitchen light was on. Finn put his sleeve to his dripping nose, but didn’t try to speak. Logan held out an arm.

Knees, folding into the bent backs of his own. A forearm on the concrete above his head, on the other side of Logan’s body. At his back, warmth, broad and safe. Finn shuddered his way through a breath. Exhaustion. Collapse. An arm slid beneath his own to wrap around him; a palm rubbed over his heart.

“Hi, Fish,” Leo murmured, pressed to Finn from his ankles to the top of his head. A wall against the dark. A ledge above the void, holding firm.

The words tangled, tying his tongue to paralysis. He shook his head. Leo traced a bumpy path between his collarbones.

“Nightmare.” His throat clicked when he swallowed. “Sorry.”

Leo made a sympathetic sound and shuffled closer. “Want to talk about it?”

“We are,” Logan said softly. Finn saw his hand pass by. “Hi, Peanut.”

Finn heard a sound like a kiss. Logan’s hum vibrated. “Want me to go back to bed?” Leo offered.

“No,” they said at the same time. Something in Finn’s chest released. A knot, pulled in just the right place.

Leo’s knees gave a tiny pulse behind his own. “Okay. Are you doing your quiet time thing?”

It took Finn’s tired ears a moment to clock back in. Quiet time. Was he ever quiet? “Huh?”

“Your quiet time,” Leo repeated, like it was obvious. He was holding Logan’s hand, thumb running across his knuckles. “You know. When you get all sad about college and sit really quietly together for a while to think about it. It’s, like, a meditation thing, right?”

Finn stared at him. “Non,” Logan answered.

“Oh.” Leo sat up a little on his elbow with a frown. “Did you know you do that?”

“No,” Finn croaked.

One of Leo’s pale brows twitched upwards before he got ahold of it again. He shrugged, releasing Logan’s hand to dry Finn’s cheek with the side of his hand. “It’s not a bad thing. Giving yourself space to think about it, I mean. Seems like there was a lot to…you know. Get through.”

“You’re awake,” Finn realized belatedly. “Were we loud?”

Leo kissed his burning cheek. “No. I was cold. And thirsty. Is that your water up there?”

“Yeah.”

“Want me to get it?”

“No,” Finn mumbled. Leo snuggled closer, clearly satisfied.

Quiet time. Fucking hell.

Finn lifted his hand and whacked the back of it against Logan’s chest. “I was really fucking mad at you.” He wanted to leave it at that, but Logan was blinking at him like an owl and he had always been so beautiful at night, the moon to Finn’s stars and—

Finn whacked him again. Gentler, but still gratifying in the dull slap of skin on skin. It didn’t even leave a mark. “So fucking mad. You jackass. How could you do that to me? We should’ve just made out on the front porch. It would have ruined everything.” He groaned, burying his face in the softness of Logan’s belly. “You’re right. You’re so smart and right about everything. God fucking dammit, Logan, you and your goddamn eyes. I would have dropped out of college for you, but you wouldn’t even let me. I had to make it to the NH-motherfucking-L playoffs before you’d tell me you loved me. Is that it? You have a kink for pro hockey players? I was standing there like an idiot in the middle of the ocean, crying my eyes out, and you were still so goddamn perfect. I’m going to love you forever. You can’t stop me. Me and you and Knutty are gonna die within ten seconds of each other.”

That was a fact. The universe was crueler than he thought if it planned for anything else. Coarse hair scratched Finn’s cheek, and he raised his head to glare as best he could. Logan’s lower lip had disappeared between his teeth; bracing for impact, if he was smart, or stifling a laugh, if Finn knew him at all. “Fuck off,” Finn grumbled, and delighted in Logan’s visible alarm. “Hold me.”

Logan’s gaze darted to Leo for the briefest second. “And I.”

“What?”

“You and Knutty and I.”

Finn bit the nearest roll of his abs. “I said fucking hold me, Logan.”

Logan made a small noise, smiled a small smile, wrapped them both up in his arms until Leo was laughing into the crook of Finn’s shoulder. “You’re fucking crazy,” Finn felt Logan whisper into the top of his head. “I love it so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Finn groused.

Logan’s sigh pushed Leo’s weight harder into him. Finn counted three beauty marks on the underside of his chin, and one hickey in the perfect shape of Leo’s mouth. “I love when you say my name.”

• • •

– Do you remember I once asked you what it was like living in the darkness? Do you remember what you said?

– It's not dark. It's like a thousand suns.

(Daredevil: Born Again)

"Mr. Tremblay, Mr. O'Hara." A guttural grunt cut short a trail of heavy footsteps. They pounded in Finn's head along with the incessant throbbing in his temples. "She can see you now."

Since he'd hung up the call, Logan had fallen back into his nasty habit of nail-biting. They'd gone twenty minutes without a shred of a word—a silence only broken by the rings of too many phones, a never-ending parade of people at the front door, and the brittle snaps of Logan's fingernails as he nipped away what could only have been an overload of tension.

Regret, maybe. Not for the first time, Finn wondered how they'd ended up in that same situation again.

"Let's go," Logan sighed, leading the way behind the police officer.

A cold breeze from the humming AC hit Finn like a whiplash. Goosebumps dotted his skin as he walked down the quiet hallway, whose chipped tiles seemed to resonate with every sweep of his beat-up cane.

"Lolo," a familiar voice halted Finn in his tracks. It faded into gentle murmurs that Finn fought hard not to grasp. He knew how desperately Logan could swoon in one of his sisters' embraces whenever something felt slightly off.

Noelle's careful touch on Finn's arm hinted that he was in for a hug of his own. "And there I was thinking you'd forget about me, O'Hara."

As if she'd ever give him the chance. Not since Finn was blessed with the rare privilege of being claimed by his best friend's family as one of their own.

"Inspector Tremblay," he quipped. She smelled like that lavender soap Logan used to keep in their dorm bathroom.

"Thanks, Moody," Noelle called over Finn's shoulder. "I can take it from here."

Her colleague grumbled something unintelligible, but he backtracked without much of a fight.

"I called you as soon as I heard," Noelle said. "This is... It looks really bad. I'm not gonna lie."

"The suspect?" Logan asked.

"He's in there." There was a room on their left. Judging by the pacing footsteps behind the door, at least two people were waiting inside. "They brought him in about an hour ago. Hasn't said a word ever since."

An uncomfortable beat of silence ticked by, punctuated by the rustle of clipped pages overlapping the buzzing of the neon lights. "According to the report, he's the one who called the police."

A half-hearted laugh left Logan's mouth. "What?"

"Suspect called 911 at approximately 8:30 this morning," Noelle read. "He claimed that a colleague had been murdered in his apartment overnight. Dispatch noted heavy signs of distress and an altered emotional state."

"He called 911," Finn repeated, quietly to himself. "And you said over the phone that he has no recollection of last night's events?"

Noelle hummed in confirmation. She was cracking her knuckles in an anxious, rhythmic pattern, like she always did when she was overthinking something.

"What else?" Finn prompted.

"Ah, um. Well..."

Logan sucked in a long, stubborn breath. "Why do I have the feeling we're not gonna like it?"

"Because this is where things get complicated." She must have slid a hand over her face, because her next words came out muffled. "They found him covered in the victim's blood."

A tingling chill crawled up Finn's spine. "What do we know about the victim?"

"Jack Archer, twenty-three years old."

"Yeah, not resentful my ass."

"Hush, Soleil. I'm intrigued."

"Originally from New Orleans. Multiple stab wounds to the abdomen. A fatal one to the heart."

"Weapon?" Logan filled in.

"A 10-inch kitchen knife. Forensics are looking for fingerprints."

A fresh stab of pain made Finn twitch. He ground his teeth against the spasm seizing the back of his head.

"He was on the floor when they arrived," Noelle said around a loud swallow. "The weapon was right there, within arm's reach. But he wouldn't leave the corpse..."

Logan was quick to read his sister's doubts. "You think he did it?"

"I don't think anything," she retorted, but the quiver in her voice gave her away. "I'm just saying, it doesn't look good for him. That's all."

"All right," Finn cleared his throat. Too late he realized he'd been too quiet. And now there was no escaping those green-eyed stares.

"How would you know about green—"

"Shhhhhhhh."

"Can we talk to him?"

"Yeah." A long sigh filled with relief came from Noelle. "Of course."

Logan covered the half-step between them. His hand burned white-hot around Finn's wrist. "Okay. Let's do this."

"Sorry, I—" Sliding down Finn's palm was a pulsating beat. One, two, a third squeeze. His lighthouse in the dark the world had wrapped him in. "Uh. What's his name again?"

Noelle pushed down the door handle. It made a screeching noise when she let go to turn around. "His name's Leo Knut."

The interrogation room was even colder, drowned in a static silence. Only the scrape of a chair on the floor echoed when Noelle finally let them in. Logan froze at Finn's side. The faltering of his heart's steady pace—skipping one long, drawn-out beat—caught Finn completely off guard.

Logan's tone was ice-cold when he asked, "Does he have to be handcuffed?"

"He killed a man," a deep, rough voice bit back with hostility. "It's standard procedure."

"That's bullshit if I ever heard it."

The only response was a blunt laugh in Logan's face. Finn's fists suddenly started itching.

"Enough!" Noelle raised her voice. "Give me the keys and get the fuck out of here, Devaux."

"Seriously, Rouge?"

"Hmm. I love it when he gets all snarky."

A handful of keys jingled briefly in the air. A tease, a fueling attempt to provoke a reaction. Finn didn't know the guy; Noelle had never mentioned him before. He almost wanted to warn him not to poke the sleeping dog, especially when it came not to one, but two Tremblays playing on the same line. He decided it wouldn't hurt to let him figure that out by himself.

"Now, Luke."

The set landed on the desk with a metallic jangle, skidding across the polished surface. Devaux walked past Finn, and made the unfortunate mistake of shoving him aside. It lit Logan's fuse lightning fast, but Finn reacted even faster. He caught Logan with a hand around his sharp elbow, digging his fingers into the soft cotton of the rolled-up sleeve that rode high on his smooth skin.

Not here, Lo.

"Who the hell are you?"

It was barely a murmur, yet it crashed through Finn's rumbling thoughts like shattered, fine glass. He let Logan go, only to follow the broken notes of a young voice, thick with rage and unshed tears.

"Mr. Knut," Noelle beat Finn to the punch. "You might want to talk to a defense attorney if—"

"I don't have a lawyer," Knut spat.

"Mr. Knut, my name is Logan Tremblay," Logan caught up. Leaving space for Finn to reach out and shake the man's hand, he added, "And this is my partner, Finn O'Hara."

Long, sweaty fingers gave Finn's palm a weak and reluctant squeeze. There wasn't much Finn could gather from that swift brush alone. Except that, despite the venom filling his voice, Leo Knut was tense with undeniable, raw fear.

"We would like to represent you, Mr. Knut," Finn said. His lips curled into what he hoped would be an encouraging smile. "We're looking for clients for our new firm."

The key turned, the handcuffs clicked open, and the heavy chain scraped across the table.

"You know, he looks like he really doesn't trust us," Logan leaned in to mock-whisper in Finn's ear.

"Yeah. I kinda figured."

The ear-splitting silence alone might have done the work.

What Finn wasn't expecting, though, was the hint of a bitter, incredulous laugh. "How long have you two been doing this, exactly?"

Finn couldn't help the slow smirk that pulled at his lips.

"Hm, let's see. How about two hours and…ten minutes?" Logan counted. "Give or take." Finn knew he'd flipped his wrist to check the time on his watch. An old classic, in true Logan fashion. "We just got the keys to our office."

He wondered if anyone else in the room sensed the imperceptible tremor around the edges of Logan's wit. Noelle? Most likely. It had been loud enough to make Finn's stomach churn with a sudden wave of nausea.

He'd been late. This morning of all meaningless mornings in his life. The real estate agent had already given Logan the tour by the time he showed up, sweat-soaked and out of breath. The building was on Ninth Avenue, in the beating heart of Hell's Kitchen. Logan had insisted it would be the perfect fit for them, and even cracked a rare joke about the nice view.

A real chance. Straight out of the fantasy of two starry-eyed boys with nothing in their pockets but love for the cause, and hard-earned degrees to forge the path ahead.

And Finn almost ruined it. Limping and half-breathing, praying to whatever god that the stitches he'd sewn on his hip would hold for the short flight of stairs. And that Logan wouldn't notice this time either.

Show me around? Finn had asked as soon as they were left alone.

And Logan did what only he was allowed to do. Finn felt his bright smile first. Logan had let him trace those soft lines so many times that Finn had memorized every shade of his lips by heart. He'd even pretended not to step up on tiptoes, but his warm breath on Finn's chin gave him away. Logan's touch was reverent. It always had been. He slipped Finn's dark glasses off his nose, so he could be the eyes to show Finn the beauty of their small world.

It could've been a trapdoor, a stinky, rundown room, or even a dreary broom closet. Money was tight, but the genuine happiness rolling off Logan in unbreakable waves was worth every wild shot.

Worth the pain of pretending Finn didn't feel it. The frantic, desperate rise of Logan's pulse as he'd leaned in, just a breath away from a reality Finn could only see in his dreams. Quickly torn to shreds by the ring of the call that dragged them into this cold room.

"Finn?"

"Hm?" Finn jerked around, following the worried tinge in Noelle's voice. "Yeah, sorry. I'm—"

Helpless? Selfish? Very much unprofessional?

"Listen," Leo croaked, barely above a whisper. "I don't have the money for a lawyer. Don't bother wasting your time on me."

Too bad he was sitting in front of the most stubborn man on Earth. Logan pulled out two chairs, and brought one over to Finn. When he dropped his briefcase on the table, Finn knew he wasn't planning to leave anytime soon. It was hard not to love him when he ignited that burning fire within. "We're not going anywhere until you tell us exactly what happened."

"I can't pay you. Not right now, not—"

"Leo," Finn took his chance to weigh in. A question colored his name, one that made Leo's breathing pattern shift. There was a valid reason, after all, if neither Logan nor he had fled through that whistling door yet. "We just want to help."

Logan would call it a gut instinct, or a fierce sense of trust in each other. He used to make fun of him and his so-called "gift" at reading people. Blamed it on a severe case of unheard-of empathy and a too-big heart.

Most of the time, Finn would just laugh it off with him. But every night, every fight, every scream haunting him in the dark was a ticking reminder of why of all the people in this lonely world, Finn chose to lie in the face of the only truth he'd ever known.

As Finn sat down at the table, the weight of Leo's hesitant gaze settled on him. His full attention for the first time since he'd walked in. Studying him, most likely. Or maybe just looking for a way out of Logan's intense, all-consuming silence.

His heartbeat suddenly picked up.

"Why?"

Three thumps for every quick snap of Finn's folding cane.

Finn cocked his head, chin tilting up, and Logan spoke his next question word by word.

"Answer this first." Calm, steady, and gentler than people gave him credit for. "Did you kill Jack Archer?"

Noelle's pacing in the background became more erratic, intimidating. Logan leaned forward, and the table creaked beneath Finn's palms under the pressure of Logan's arms.

Leo's next breath caught in his chest, just a cry for help away from tearing down that damned wall.

All Finn needed was to hear that quiet, surrendering sniff, and the soft pop of Leo's slowly parting lips.

And then the answer they had all been waiting for bubbled out in three hitching, broken breaths.

"No," Leo choked out, his pulse slowing to match the truth of his word. "I never could've hurt Jack."

They never needed much talk, Logan and he. A one-sided, shadowed look—one that Finn would die to be able to picture—and the mere tilt of a nod would always tell Logan the rest.

"So," Logan smiled, loud and proud to Finn's ears. "Shall we start from the beginning?"

"Non."

Finn's brow knitted into a single red-tight line. "Hm? What do you mean nom?"

If Leo hadn't known him well, he would've thought Logan serious for a moment.

That is, until he rolled over to burrow himself in the crook of Finn's neck.

"J'aime pas," he grumbled to a bunch of freckles.

A brush of Finn's scruff tickled Leo's cheek when he twisted around for help.

Leo looked up from his nook on Finn's shoulder, and had to steal a quick kiss from his chapped, sun-baked lips. "He doesn't like it."

"You don't like my story, baby?"

Dark curls bounced in a nod against Finn's sunburned skin.

"But why?" He smiled.

Logan felt it. A green-flecked glint peeked out at Leo, and just like in a mirror, Logan shared that same secret smile with him.

As for the fight-less smack he landed on Finn, that one left a three-finger, sun-shaped imprint on his bare chest. "You lied to me?"

"To protect you, yeah. Of course."

"No! You lied to me. And you couldn't even see how much I love you? Non, Rouge. C'est fou."

Finn turned back for a second round of backup. "Peanut?"

"I don't know, honey," Leo mused. "I'm a big fan of mysterious, full-of-secrets boyfriends who fight evil in the dark."

A huge eye roll told him Logan wasn't buying it.

"Like a knight in shining armor coming in the night to the rescue."

Finn nodded along. "With a Devil mask and a six-pack in a tight red suit."

"Sounds kinda hot to me."

Logan levered himself on one elbow, pinning them on the mattress with the sole force of a nonetheless soft glare. "You've clearly been out in the sun too long today."

Leo reached over Finn to flick his nose. "Think it's time to go to sleep?"

"What about the rest of the story?" Finn pouted, earning himself a smacking double smooch. "Who's gonna keep my boys safe?"

“My job’s not boring! I get to teach about books!” Finn countered, knowing that it might not sound as fun as playing hockey, but it was still an enlightening career. 

She looked at him, considering. “I do like books.” 

“I know you do. And between you and me, your Papa’s job is a lot cooler. But you know who has the coolest job in the world?” 

She shook her head, eyes widening in anticipation. Finn’s eyes met Leo’s and he rolled his eyes, knowing what Finn was going to say just a second before he said it. Which was enough time for him to start blushing apparently. 

“Your Daddy! Because he gets to spend all day with the two of you!” 

“Daddy is the coolest! And the only one without gray hairs!” Margo adds, laughing as Finn scoffed. Standing and walking over to Leo, bringing his fingers through Leo’s gray spot. 

“And what do you call this?”

“That’s not old person gray hair. Not like this, Dada,” Margo stood on the chair, Leo’s arms coming around to steady her, as she pulled a rare gray strand of Finn’s hair in her fingers.

“Yes, okay, okay, I get it,” Finn said, and Margo was giggling. Leo couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. “Oh no, not you too!” He quickly pulled Leo in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Dada! Yucky!” Margo exclaimed as they broke apart. “Can we please please please go now?” 

The college was having a family night with booths and kids activities set up by the education majors who wanted to be elementary school teachers. Finn had mentioned a table for kids to pick out free books, as he had worked with his department on that.

“Lo here yet?” 

“No, I don’t think he’s left the rink yet. We could probably head down to the event and meet him there.”

-----------

“I know all those constellations already,” Margo said proudly. At five years old, she already had the confidence of someone much older. “My Uncle Reg is part of the lion constellation right there. I love lions. And Uncle Sirius is right there. He says he’s a dog star. An’ Uncle Reg calls him a smelly wet dog! An’ also my cousin’s name means Star.” Then she called out, “Daddy! Look! Your name!” 

Through the crowds of people at Gryffindor University’s Kids Discovery Day, Leo had finally caught up to Margo who had went running through the crowds when she saw the astronomy booth. He bent down to see what she was looking at, sending the college student who was running the booth a smile. 

“What did you say, Punkin’?” 

“Your name, Daddy!” She was pointing at a chart of constellations, the word “Leo” was in bright red with an arrow toward the constellation of a lion. 

“Oh yeah. My name is also the name of a constellation. Actually, it’s the one that the Regulus star is in!” 

“Read please, Daddy?” She asked, shoving a piece of paper with multiple constellations on it. He read the short blurb about the Leo constellation to her. She grinned, jumping up and down. 

“Daddy, stickers!” Margo grabbed for the sticker sheets on the table. 

“I see them, hon. Can you ask nicely if you can grab some?” 

“Can I please, please, please have some star stickers? An’ some for my baby brother?” 

“Of course, take as many as you want. They glow in the dark!” The university student said, smiling down at her and handing over the stickers. “And you can take some for your brother, too.” 

“Thank you,” Leo said. Then he stood, glancing around for said baby brother. He found them a minute later, eyes catching the bouncing blond curls as Finn glanced around the crowd with Oliver high in his arms, bouncing the boy up and down as tears rolled down his face. 

Oh no. 

“Margs, lets go find Dada and Ollie. What do you say?” 

“Thank you!” She grabbed the stickers and sheet of paper, and took off in the crowd once more. 

“Margo!” He called, but she had already swerved between two people and was gone. At least she had gone in the direction of Finn. 

When Leo made it through the dense crowds to Finn, he leaned over to kiss Oliver on the cheek. 

“What’s wrong, bug?” 

Leo caught the boy as he lurched toward him from Finn’s arms. He buried his face in Leo’s shoulder, sniffling. It hurt him to see their sweet two-year-old so sad. He looked at Finn, eyebrow raised. 

Finn shrugged. 

“He got upset when I didn’t follow you through the crowd. He was saying something in French, but all I picked up was ‘Papa’ because…y’know.” Even after so many years, years spent teaching their kids French by talking almost exclusively in that language some days of the week, Finn was still hopeless with it beyond a few key phrases. “Maybe he’s coming down with something,” Finn said, feeling his forehead. The boy didn’t respond. But there hadn’t been any other indication of sickness all day, the boy had simply been grumpy. Leo had a sneaking suspicion that he was getting his molars, and teething was never a fun time with kids. 

“Well, you guys don’t have to stay. When Lo gets here…” But Finn shook his head. 

“No, we’re going to your concert.” Leo had been playing in the Gryffindor community band since Margo was two, when Finn and Logan had mentioned that he didn’t seem to be doing any activities that were just for him, emphasizing that he was always working to take care of the family. He had finally admitted to wanting to join a band, having played oboe all through high school. So they had encouraged him, and for years he had been playing. Tonight they had a kid-friendly concert that they had planned to bring Margo and Oliver to. 

“Lo and I can take turns walking him if necessary. He didn’t sleep well either, so he might just pass out to the sweet supple sounds of his Daddy playing oboe.” 

Leo could feel himself blush, but was saved from responding by a soft, “Où est Papa?”

Leo decided to respond in French. It was also possible the boy was overstimulated and needed the steadiness of the language. “He’s coming from practice and he’ll be here in just a few minutes.” Leo had to go warm up with the band in twenty minutes, and he hoped that Logan could ease his departure a bit for Oliver. The boy had developed a new strain of separation anxiety that made it hard for them to leave unless he was fully distracted. “Your sister got you some stickers.” Oliver shifted so he could look at Margo, who was showing Finn the collection of items she got from the table. 

“Oggie, I got you some glow in the dark stickers! B’cause you don’t like the dark!” 

“Merci,” he said in a soft voice, reaching for them and staring at the collection. 

“Let’s go now. I want to see more tables! Where are the free books, Dada?” 

Finn glanced around, then he pointed at a table with a light blue tablecloth across the room. 

Margo was about to set out before Leo called down to her, hand on her shoulder. 

“Hey, you need to please slow down in these crowds, Margo. We don’t need you bowlin’ people over.” But before the words had even left his mouth, she was running once more. 

Leo sighed. 

“Ah, good old O’Hara energy,” Finn said, taking Leo’s hand and leading them smoothly through the crowd toward the booth. He was able to keep sight of her through the crowd, as he was taller than most here. 

Leo could hear Margo’s excited voice as they walked up to her. 

“No, I’m not lost! My dads are right there!” 

“That’s your dad?” One of the college students asked, gesturing to Finn. 

“Yep. My Dada and my Daddy. And my baby brother, Oggie!” 

“Hi, Dr. O’Hara!” Another of the students said as they walked up. “Is this your family?” 

Finn nodded, beaming, making introductions. Apparently these were a few education majors who were taking his upper-level English teaching class. 

“And this is my husband, Leo, and my kids, Margo and Oliver,” Finn reached over and rustled Oliver’s hair, who, at seeing unfamiliar faces, hid in Leo’s shoulder once again, making a few of the students coo. 

“I didn’t know you had kids or a husband, professor,” one of the girls said. Sofie, Leo remembered. 

“Well, honestly, I don’t talk about them a whole lot in class because if I did, I’d go on and on and never get to my lesson!” Finn said, smiling at him. Leo blushed, but he could tell that Finn was telling an only slightly exaggerated truth. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Dr. O’Hara’s husband!” Leo was used to people recognizing him in public. Any professional athlete, or former professional athlete, was. But he wasn’t used to people calling him that. He loved it.

“Nice to meet you,” Leo said in return, shifting Oliver around so he could shake hands with the girl. 

Finn chatted with his students a bit. After a few minutes, Margo had chosen a book and was darting between them, eying the other booths. In a moment, her eyes lit up and Leo knew she was about to bolt. 

Then tan arms came under her shoulders and she was being pulled up into the air with a flurry of giggles. 

“Papa!” She squealed. 

“I knew you were about to run off, ma fraise. It’s busy in here. You know your dads have gotten slow and we can’t chase after you. Good thing I caught you, huh?” Logan smiled, hiking the girl over his shoulder before turning to give Leo a peck on the cheek and pat Oliver’s head. The boy looked up and cried out, “Papa!” before lunging for him. Logan easily caught the boy in his other arm, talking to him in French as the boy smiled and nuzzled into Logan’s neck. Logan  unceremoniously deposited a wriggling Margo into Finn’s arms, turning to give him a peck, too. 

By now, Finn’s students looked really confused. Finn laughed at their wide eyes. 

“My other husband, Logan Tremblay,” Finn said by way of explanation. The students seemed to take this in stride, shaking hands once more. 

“Oh, I do hope he’s teaching you all the right stuff! You should really listen to him, he helped me not fail out of my own English class in college!” 

The students laughed. Then one piped up. 

“You’re the Logan Tremblay? The hockey player.” 

Logan nodded, obviously used to this. Over the past few years his popularity had grown significantly, especially in Gryffindor. Although Logan was quite a private person, he had had to get used to being recognized in public more and more. 

“Oui, I am. But did you know that these two also were?” 

“You played hockey, Dr. O’Hara?” One of them asked, looking as shocked as the rest of the girls. Finn laughed. 

“I swear, no one listens to my start of the year presentation. I did mention I’m a big Lions fan and that I played hockey growing up.” 

Leo had to admit that that was a huge understatement. 

“Also, if you ever look me up on anything other than RateMyProfessor, you’d know all about my hockey career!” Finn had once bragged about his RateMyProfessor score of 4.7 out of 5, complaining that the student who pulled his score down hadn’t even shown up to class. Leo had asked why he was checking the website in the first place, and he had mentioned that his students were all talking about it in class and he had to keep up with the “opinions of the youth.” 

They talked some more before Margo bolted once more with a shriek of “Uncle T!” This time, Leo turned to find that Margo was barreling straight into Thomas’s legs, the man laughing and rustling her hair, little Ellie smiling down at her from her dad’s arms, Charlie weaving around him, looking extremely excited to see her cousin. 

“Ah, you made it!” Logan said as he and Leo hurried after her, leaving Finn talking with one of his coworkers, Oliver now clinging to his neck. 

“Did you doubt me, Lo Lo Bear?” 

“Arrête, Talker!” Lo said, glancing around, as if anyone was listening to them in the overly crowded and loud area. “Only my sisters and my parents get to call me that!” 

“I am your sister now, man.” Logan shoved him lightly, leaning over to give Ellie a kiss on the cheek. 

“Whatever you say.” 

“I’m extra-prepared and ultra-excited to hear you on the oboe, Knutty!” Thomas said, setting Ellie down as she wriggled. “You want your Uncle Leo, don’t you?” And, sure enough, the girl immediately walked to Leo’s legs. He picked her up, kissing her on the cheek. 

“Bonjour, Ellie!” Leo turned back to Thomas. “Don’t get too excited, T.” 

“Oh, I am!” 

“Untle Knut?” Ellie asked. He turned to her once again, smiling at her bright green Tremblay eyes that matched her sister’s, mother’s, and uncle’s. 

“Oui, mon chou?” 

“I wanna pay music like you do when I grow up,” the three-year-old’s voice was smiling up at him, eyes bright. Then he heard a cry from behind and he recognized immediately, even through the noise of the crowd. That’s my kid. 

“Non, Daddy! Non, Ewie!” 

Oliver was toddling over to him, Finn following from behind. The two-year-old could be fast when he wanted to be. And also territorial. 

“Okay, okay. It’s fine, bug.” The next thing he knew, he was holding a kid in each arm, both refusing to leave, staring each other down. The cousins usually loved each other, both having similar sweet dispositions that they got along so well. But they were territorial of their parents, often angry when their cousin was getting attention from their mom or dads instead of them. It was an issue that they hoped the kids would grow out of, but hadn’t yet. 

“Um, where did Margo go? And did you just bring one today?” Finn asked after he clapped hands with Thomas in greeting. 

“That girl is going to be the death of me,” Leo muttered, glancing around until he spotted red and brown hair on the other side of the room. 

“Well, at least she’s enjoying this event,” Finn reasoned, as they made their way over. “Maybe she won’t think my job’s so boring after all.” 

“Aw, you really took that to heart, didn’t you, Finn?” Leo asked, smiling as he relayed the story to Thomas and Logan. 

“Your own daughter, huh?” Thomas asked. “I want you to know that my daughters think that my job is cool.” 

“Peut-être, but do they think your job’s cooler than my sister?” 

Thomas let out a barking laugh and then looked away, shaking his head. 

Once they made it to Margo, Logan leaning down to once again remind her that she needed to stay with them, Thomas making sure Charlie stopped running off as well. These two were often very well behaved by themselves, Margo a bit less so when she was excited, but when they got together, their energy fed off each other and they would get a bit crazy. 

“She’s going to love your concert so much,” Finn said. “You’re going to be the new cool dad.” 

“I was always the cool dad,” Leo said, although he wasn’t sure he believed it. “Speaking of the concert…” Leo glanced at the two kids in his arms still in a glaring match, gripping his shoulder tightly. “I’ve got to go get warmed up.” 

“Here,” Finn said, grabbing Ellie, who went with little resistance, happy to see her other uncle who she hadn’t seemed to notice was there.

“Dada, non!” Oliver said, now struggling to get out of Leo’s arms. Thomas offered to take him, and when he handed him over, the two kids started screeching. 

“Alright, I think it’s time to go,” Finn said, as he and Thomas quickly traded toddlers. “We got this, Le. You go.” 

“Time to go, Margo and Charlie!” Logan said, noticing the squabble and taking each of them by hand. “I think ice cream is in order before the concert.” 

And, as expected by this promise of ice cream, the kids calmed down and jumped around with excitement. Enough for Leo to sneak away, waving at Finn, who was purposely holding Oliver’s attention away from Leo’s quick departure. 

The concert was a great success! Leo stood proudly as the audience clapped after their final piece. He then noticed Margo and Charlie, each standing on a chair, each being held tightly by Finn and Thomas, clapping, calling for him and waving. It seemed that the other two kids were already asleep on Logan’s shoulders as Logan attempted to clap, but couldn’t quite reach around them, instead giving a soft whooping sound that Leo read from his lips. 

On the car ride home, Margo told them, sleepily that “Daddy definitely has the coolest job of you all,” before promptly falling asleep, unknowingly causing a whispered debate among them about who really did have the coolest job. 

And while they couldn’t decide, his boys reassured him that Leo’s stay-at-home, keeping their life together job was definitely the most important of them all. 

---------------

I hope you enjoyed! I love a girl-dad Thomas!

Luke wasn’t jealous. Sure, Logan and his boys got to canoodle in bars together, pulling each other around on tall stools or bookending in booths. And sure, they could go wandering around Gryffindor, New York, a dozen cities around the world and not worry how many people might snap photos of them. Luke didn’t even like PDA. Neither did Saint, by any metric known to man. They’d pretty solidly used up their quota for the next year or two after the final buzzer of that beautiful game. No, the two of them far preferred an evening in with movies or a nice dinner in a candlelit restaurant.

But maybe, sometimes, a little bit, Luke wanted.

Percy and Will were working on getting Logan up. Well—Will was working on it. Percy had to turn away to catch his breath through laughter every few seconds. Luke could only see a bit of Logan, curled up as he was in the corner of the velvet booth seat; a sneaker, a bit of his arm, that damn phone. His foot flexed, then went lax again.

“Nooooon…”

It was a cute fucking picture, Luke had to give him that. Knut and O’Hara on some floor somewhere—Gryffindor, if he had to guess, probably their apartment—with their cheeks pressed together and the biggest of grins splashed over their faces. Two books with identical covers sat in the bottom of the frame, spread open on their chests like they’d stopped reading just long enough to snap the photo. O’Hara’s red hair was darker in person than it looked against the wood flooring; the polite, yet genuine smile Knut generally gave Luke was nowhere to be found, buried deep behind a toothy grin that made every soleil, soleil, soleil understandable.

Saint had a dimple. Just one. It rarely left its fortress.

“Non,” Logan complained again. The bar was nearly empty around them; in the other room, toward the front, by the door, the noise from the dance floor kept them hidden. Luke saw Logan’s leg stretch out and go limp. Will said something too quiet for Luke to hear. The toe of Logan’s sneaker rolled on the floor. “Really?”

When they’d won the Cup, and Logan brought it back to Harvard for the second elysian year in a row (that lucky fucker), he and Finn had been gods on earth. Someone put a laurel wreath in Finn’s hair. It had been off-set in that video: the one that slid a final puzzle piece into the biggest picture of the year. A kiss on the ice was one thing—almost cliché, at this point, though the memories still made Luke’s heart stammer and pound. Leave it to O’Hara to make a dramatic moment ten times as tragically theatrical in one fell swoop.

Newsflash, asshole! Laurels askew, sweat-red cheeks, Logan tucked under his arm and laughing like he’d never be sad again. We’ve been in love the entire goddamn time!

Percy’s drunken giggles filled the background of the shaky video in the same tune and timbre as Finn’s. Lovers, not fighters, those two. Luke was…Luke was trying.

“Promise?” Logan mumbled, leaning heavily into Will’s side. He put his head on Will’s shoulder with those huge begging eyes. “You promise?”

“Yeah, bud.” Will heaved him upright with a grunt. “I promise.”

“Give back.” When Will kept hustling them toward the exit, Logan let out a childlike whine. “Give it back.”

“We’ll call them in the car—”

“You promised.”

Luke was still pretty sure Percy meant to put the video on his private story, but he was even more sure neither Finn nor Logan minded the mixup too much. The wedding (and following festivities) kept them out of sight long enough for the flurry to die down. It wasn’t like Percy caught them in any sort of incriminating throes. God bless Black and Lupin. Luke’s mother would have been apoplectic if he’d been snapped tonguing Saint down in the backseat.

“Hey—heyyyyy.” Touch snapped Luke out of that compelling mental image. Logan listed toward him. “Come home?”

Luke nodded. The last inch of his beer was warm, anyway. “Yeah, Tremz, I’m coming back with you guys.”

“With me,” Logan insisted. “Jouer vidjagames. Vi-de-oh.”

Over his shoulder, Will rolled his eyes. “I gotta get home, too,” Luke laughed.

“Noo, sleepover.”

“You need to sleep,” Will said firmly.

Logan shot him an affronted glare. “Call first.”

Will mumbled something like oh my god and guided Logan in a half-circle toward the door. “Sure, Tremz, you can call first.”

Luke followed, dropping his bottle and two empties at the end of the bartop. “Who’re we calling?”

“Take a guess.”

“Mes amours,” Logan answered loudly. A small, proud smile flushed his face. “Calling them to-night. Before sleep.”

“Oh,” Luke responded. ‘Eloquent’ was never a word used to describe him, but Logan didn’t tend to expect it and was too far gone to rib him for it anyway. He was already distracted trying to retrieve his phone from Will’s pocket.

“Cut it out, Lo.”

“I want.”

Saint had already gone home. I’m out, Tweedle. Flashing eyes and a kiss on Luke’s cheek, so much softer than his expression would imply. Saint would be in bed by now. In Luke’s bed. In Luke’s apartment.

Luke wasn’t sure they’d ever be as loud as Logan and his boys (man, he really needed a shorter phrase for them). Falling asleep at the bar, zoomed in on Saint’s photo in front of their teammates and friends, was not exactly his M.O.

But maybe he would. His few pictures of Saint were more precious than the ring three men in suits had fit on his finger mere days ago. When the world was blurry and he was tired and craving home, he’d also want to look at a face that brought him there with a single glance.

Logan’s willpower had won out. He clumsily navigated to an obnoxiously-named groupchat and within a few seconds, a different photo filled the screen. The three of them, this time; O’Hara’s birthday, if the lit candle in front of his chin said anything. His freckled face scrunched with a smile until his eyes closed to happy half-moons. Knut and Logan were kissing each of his cheeks. Logan, as per, was far more aggressive—that side of O’Hara’s cheek sat just a little higher. But Knut’s hand was just barely visible in the corner, holding his chin still for the photo.

It was sweet.

“Hey-hey, baby-baby.”

“Salut,” Logan answered, dragging out the u sound.

Luke heard O’Hara’s tired laugh. “You’re having fun.”

“Mmmouais.” Logan brought the phone close to his face, then turned it in a few rapid flicks to the sides. “Morgs ’n Marsh ‘n Luke. Don’t say anything crazy.”

“Oh, good, I was planning on it.”

Logan let out another little whine; O’Hara laughed at him again. Will ducked into frame, holding Logan’s hand steady. “We’re—stop pulling—we’re taking him home, don’t worry.”

“Oh captain, my captain, you are heaven-sent. Good night?”

“Yes,” Logan said loudly, pushing back into frame. “Miss you.”

“We miss you, too.” Knut’s voice. Luke peered over. Their Uber wouldn’t come any faster from him staring down the street. He must have found his way into the camera view, because O’Hara gave him a small wave and a smile.

They looked cozy. Really, really cozy, and really, really happy. Logan made a tender sort of noise and touched the screen. “Miss you.”

“Thursday night, cher.”

“Sooner.”

“Take it up with Bettman.”

“I will,” Logan sulked.

There was a show Luke would like to see. In part because Logan might even be able to pull it off. Will tipped the phone toward himself again. “Sorry for calling so late. He wouldn’t leave it alone.”

“Nah, it’s all good,” O’Hara said, his arm around Knut’s shoulders on top of their pillows. Luke liked to sit that way on the couch. Saint liked it, too, even if he’d never say it out loud.

“Fell asleep in the bar looking at that photo you sent him,” Will added. He shoved Logan’s face away gently when Logan began to protest. “The one on the floor, with your books and—”

“Stop.”

“Aw, baby,” Knut laughed. “That’s cute. Did you get photos?”

“I did,” Percy chimed in, popping into frame with his tongue stuck out. “Hi.”

“Sharm.”

“Ranch dressing.”

“Shabamalam.”

“Ranunculus supreme.”

“What the fuck?” O’Hara laughed. “Fucking ranunculus?”

Percy tapped his index finger against the screen until Logan swatted him away. “It’s a flower, Socrates, Cassie’s putting them in her community garden.”

Knut shook his head. “It is way too late for you two to get going.”

“Butter, we have not even started.”

“The car is here,” Logan announced, pulling the phone back to his chest, then his ear, before apparently remembering they were on FaceTime and bringing it back to his face. Luke lost sight of Knut and O’Hara, but not the way Logan bit his lip, or the spread of his smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” they chorused.

“I have to hang up, or I will be carsick. But I am okay. I love you. I call you later. I love you.” He kissed his first two fingers, then pressed them to the screen. “Je t’aime. Ugh, trop beau.”

One hand still at his back, Will waved to the Uber and gestured for the driver to wait. “Don’t worry about it, Lo,” Knut’s voice said. “Sleep tight.”

“We love you, too.”

“Okay.” Luke could hear the exhaustion catching up with him again, but Logan brushed his fingers over the screen once more. “Okay. Love you.”

“Love you.”

“Thursday.”

“We’ll save a seat.”

Luke’s phone chimed when he slid into the back with Percy and Logan. It was a big car, but a tight squeeze considering Logan’s fuck-off huge shoulders jammed in the middle. He’d only just slipped his phone from his pocket when weight thudded down into the bend of his shoulder.

“I like it here.”

“Well.” He took a second to get his mouth away from Logan’s hat. “Good.”

“You’re a good friend.” Logan mumbled.

“Glad you think so.” He tried. Really hard. He was pretty sure Logan knew it.

Logan sighed. “I miss them.”

“I know, bud,” Luke said, as gently as he could. The Rangers were good for Logan. Alex, and Percy and Will—even himself, he thought. Good people. Good fans, who adored Logan without question.

But they weren’t the Lions. They weren’t his boys.

You Have Two (2) New Messages from: Saint

[10:45 p.m.]

In bed.

[11:50 p.m.]

xo

“I miss coming home to them.”

X-O, Luke’s heart beat. xo, xo, xo.

“I miss…” Logan trailed off. They rode in silence until he sighed. “Miss them, at the bar. I keep looking.”

Luke met Percy’s eyes over the curve of Logan’s back. Percy made a sad face, mouth turning down. “It’s okay, Tremz,” he said, rubbing between Logan’s shoulder blades. “You’re heading up Thursday, right?”

“Ouais.” A small puff of breath. “Not the same.”

He didn’t want to think about Saint getting traded. He’d had enough of beds in different places, let alone going to sleep in different cities, hours apart. Luke would be left staring at the ceiling or—worse, leaving Saint alone in the dark while he slumbered.

“I miss them.” It was plaintive, almost. Luke found himself wishing Logan would go back to staring blearily at their photo. Instead, he pressed his temple to Luke’s shoulder and sighed. “We’re fun.”

Percy bit the inside of his cheek and looked out the window, hand going still on Logan’s hot back. But Logan wasn’t done.

“I thought we had more time,” he mumbled. “I wanted to be fun with them.”

“Christ,” he heard Percy whisper.

Luke wracked his brain. He wasn’t good at the sap. He never saw the point, and it wasn’t like Saint ever—

“Bring them out with us.”

The hat shifted. Logan’s eyes, squinting up at him. “Quoi?”

“Next time they visit.” Luke hoped he remembered this in the morning. He shook Logan’s shoulder lightly and tried to find some levity. “We’ll all go out. Have a little fun, nothing too crazy. You should bring them.”

Logan scanned his face, as if searching for a lie. Or perhaps just some clarity in his fuzzy world. “D’accord,” he said at last. He stifled a yawn in his hand. “Bon. Hmm. J’suis fatigué.”

Percy patted his thigh in two good thumps. “Almost home, Lo.”

“Not home.” Logan’s weight grew heavier. “Thursday.”

“Yeah, buddy, Thursday.”

“Hey,” Logan started, like the thought had just occurred to him. He nudged his knee against Percy’s. “Sorry for making out above your bedroom.”

Percy closed his eyes and covered his mouth with one hand. Luke lost the battle against his own grin. “It’s fine.”

“With Finn,” Logan clarified.

“I know, bud.”

“It was only sometimes.”

“I figured.”

“This year doesn’t count,” Logan informed him. “ ‘Cause you don’t live there anymore, so I’m not apologizing.”

Percy covered his eyes; up front, Luke saw Will’s shoulders hitch with stifled laughter. “Okay,” Percy managed. “Sounds great.”

Logan nodded. “It was.”

Even the driver was snickering, now, and Luke knocked Logan’s hat around to the front to buy himself a second. “If you’re gonna be a chatty drunk, Tremz, I need to brush up on my French.”

Logan grumbled and mumbled and fought with the canvas-lined brim before wrenching it off his head and scowling up at Luke. “Ouais. Si tu compt’être mon ami—”

“Woah, woah—”

“—tu dois parler le québécoise—”

“—woah—”

Logan’s next words were lost in laughter; his forehead pushed against Luke’s arm. He was warm, but not too warm. Heavy, but never too heavy. He knocked his knuckles to Luke’s. “Immersion lessons,” he finally said. “You’ll learn.”

“I meant for the accent,” Luke laughed.

A click of his tongue, but no further scolding. The driver turned down Logan’s street and Luke felt him sigh. “Bonne nuit, mes amis.”

“Night, Tremz.”

“Later, Lo.”

The car rolled to a stop. Luke stepped out to give Logan an exit and let the night air wash over him, a little freedom after the loud, cramped bar and the louder, more cramped backseat. It was good for him, he figured. Going out. Being with the team, with or without Saint. It was better, now that he knew something waited for him at home.

Logan took his offered elbow to get up the curb. “Want me to walk you up?”

“Non.” Logan wrinkled his nose at the door and the bright lobby lights, then turned back and gave Luke a clap on the shoulder, followed by a tight hug. He didn’t let go for a moment. When he did, there was a little more sharpness in his eyes. “Merci.”

“Sure thing.”

“You’ll text me?”

“Ouais.”

Logan smiled. Big, bright, a bit crooked; Luke returned it. He couldn’t leave Logan hanging. “Hey, not bad,” Logan laughed, nodding. “He can be taught.”

“Next time,” Luke reminded him. “Bring them. I mean it. I still gotta win over O’Hara.”

Logan just shook his head and patted his shoulder again. “Oh, Dev. You already got him.”

--

Luke thought about it the whole way home.

“Logan thinks O’Hara likes me.”

Silence, then a shift in the darkness. Breath ghosted over his jaw. “Should I be worried?” Saint murmured.

Luke felt his cheeks warm. “Not like that.”

“Of course O’Hara likes you.”

“He does not.”

Another puff of air, in what would have been a snort if there was the faintest hint of morning around. “You take care of Logan. Trust me. O’Hara likes you fine.”

“Logan thinks they’re fun.” Luke didn’t know why he was saying this, only that it was dark and safe and he had the warmth of his boyfriend pressed up against him under sheets they’d picked out together. “He thinks—I don’t know. He says the three of them are fun.”

“They are.”

“Most people don’t call Logan fun.” Or me.

Saint put his hand on Luke’s chest, right above his beating heart. “It’s not about other people. They have fun together. That’s enough.”

Luke picked his hand up and pressed it to his mouth. Big palm, long fingers. Saint wasn’t like Knut. Luke wasn’t much like Logan, down in the roots. He thought they could be fun, though, the two of them. “Night, Seb.”

“Night.”

“Love you.”

“Don’t forget the sunscreen,” Leo said as he went about getting dressed for the day and collecting the extra clothes, now smiling with excitement. He loved when his boys had a day planned. 

“Ouias, my little sunbugs. Le coup de soleil.” 

“Just because you don’t burn…” 

“Oui, oui, still wear sunscreen, je sais.”

When they were packed and ready to go, Finn drove them out into the less populated areas of Gryffindor. 

“Any hints on where you’re taking me?” Leo asked, watching the landscape out the window. 

“Well, first…” But Finn was cut off as Logan’s hand landed on his mouth. 

“Secrets! Surprises, Fish! No hints!” Then Logan made a noise of disgust, taking his hand away. “You licked me! Unbelievable. Keep your tongue to yourself!” 

“That’s not what you usually say,” Finn said with a wide grin, eyes glancing in the rearview mirror to smile at Leo, his freckles more present than ever in the morning sunlight. “All I was going to say was that we’re taking him to brunch, which he already knows. But I bet you can’t guess where.” 

Leo’s eyes widened at Finn’s excited tone. 

“Are you really taking me to Hogsmeade Cafe?” The best breakfast place they had found in Gryffindor, sat right next to a beautiful lake. 

“Oui,” Logan said, smiling back at him. “Got a reservation for the table overlooking the lake.” 

“Oh, so that’s why someone woke me up before my alarm.” 

“Oui, désolé, beurre. I wanted to let you sleep as long as possible.” Logan had been up with him when he had been unable to sleep after waking up at two am. He had stroked through his hair, whispered to him. It had put him back to sleep, eventually, but he had still woken up groggy to a pair of lips on his cheek and a soft french-accent in his ear. 

“It’s alright, Lo. Didn’t mean to wake you up at two…” But as this conversation usually went, Logan answered with an uh-uh and Finn interrupted with a “you woke up again? Were you able to get back to sleep?” his voice full of pure worry and Leo simply remembered how much he loved them. 

After a wonderful brunch filled with laughter and one of the best french toasts he’d ever had, eating as they overlooked the boats on the water, Finn pulled them both up, nearly bouncing with excitement. He led them toward the car, but instead of getting in, he simply unlocked it and grabbed his bag. 

“Next up on the itinerary is…” He reached into his bag and pulled out his swimsuit, “get naked!” 

“Finn!” Leo said, feeling himself blush, as he glanced around. Luckily, no one was close enough to hear.

“Okay, okay. But we do need to change. Don’t forget the sunscreen.” 

Twenty minutes later, they were stepping into a three-person kayak, pushing out onto the water. Logan seemed a little nervous, but they had convinced him to settle in the middle. 

“You’ll be fine, Lo. Don’t worry, I’ll save you if you fall in,” Finn had said, settling behind him. 

When Logan still looked a little nervous, Leo told him they didn’t have to do this, although he was extremely excited to try. 

Leo loved kayaking. Not only did his family do a lot of boating, but they also owned kayaks, and would use them whenever they could. It had been awhile since he’s been kayaking. Whenever they went to New Orleans, the boys insisted on going out into the boat, which Leo cheerfully obliged. 

After Finn had coaxed Logan into the kayak, whispering something in his ear that Logan responded to with a look at Leo and a wicked grin, he had settled in with more enthusiasm. 

“How did you know I like to kayak?” Leo asked, attempting to turn from his front seat to ask them. 

“I remember you saying something about them. And Wyatt was talking to me about all the kayaking you guys’ve done. I asked him if you liked it and he said it was one of your favorite hobbies growing up,” Logan said from directly behind him.  

“Which is crazy that we didn’t know that! I thought we knew everything there was to know about our nutter butter baby, but you surprise us every day!” Finn called from further back. 

“I didn’t realize this place had kayaking or I would have dragged you two here a long time ago!” Leo told them as he paddled. There was a lot of drag from the back, but he was used to a one-person kayak, so maybe that was it. “This sure is a workout!” He attempted to paddle harder, making a bit of progress, feeling the pull of his muscles in his shoulders and back. 

As he continued, he realized that his boys hadn’t said anything for at least a minute. When he glanced back, he just saw the two of them staring at him, oars in hand, but neither paddling. Logan’s mouth was open in little o and a pretty blush peppered his cheeks, Finn was just looking at him dreamily, with a smirk. 

“God, Le, we should have taken you kayaking before now.” 

“This is doing things to me, buerre.” 

Leo blushed once again, glaring at them. 

“I wondered why I was feeling so much drag back there. Are you two going to help or are you going to ogle all day?” 

“Is the second one an option?” Finn’s voice piped up. 

“Your shoulders, Le, Finn was right about this,” he felt the kayak shift and hands touching his back, “you’re so strong. Keep going!” 

Leo had certainly bulked up the past few years, and his shoulders, especially, had gotten a lot broader in the process. 

“What am I going to do with you two?” Leo asked, complying and continuing to paddle. 

“I certainly have some ideas,” Finn said. 

When he had finally convinced them to help him, they started making progress, fighting against the wind pushing their boat away. 

For the most part, they stayed relatively dry, except for when Finn exclaimed excitedly from the back as a few ducks floated toward their kayak, rocking the kayak and nearly capsizing them. Logan yelped and gripped the boat with an admonishing “rouge” as Leo tried to steady them. 

When they were steady once more, Logan turned to Finn, Leo glancing back to see Logan’s familiar grumpy pout. 

“Allez, I’m done.” 

“Something making you nervous?” Finn asked, innocently. “You have a life jacket and everything! And you can swim!” 

“Je sais, mais…” 

“Let’s go back,” Leo said, happy to stop if it helped Logan. 

“I don’t want to ruin…” 

“Non, Lo. Let’s go, I’d like to be dry again.” 

“And we can go to our next stop!” Finn said, excitedly from the back. 

----

Thirty minutes later, now in dry clothing, they pulled into another park. 

“Minigolfing?” Leo asked, reading the sign. 

“Oui!” Logan said from the back seat. “I’ve never been, but Harz says it’s fun.” 

“We were trying to think about what people do on summer dates, and this seemed like a good idea.” 

Leo hadn’t been minigolfing since he was in middle school. He remembered he hadn’t been very good. This one seemed like a large course, and he noticed a mix of colorful figurines of various animals around as they made their way in and Finn paid. 

“So how does this work?” Logan asked as they made their way to the first hole. Finn described the simple rules, showing him the card for if they wanted to keep score. Logan insisted they use it, as competitive as ever, even when it came to minigolf. 

“Alright, Butter, you first!” Finn said, leading Leo onto the first course. 

“Why?” 

“Maybe I want to watch from behind,” he said with a wink. Leo rolled his eyes, glancing around. Luckily, the families that were there were well ahead of them on the course. 

It took all of three holes for Logan to start swearing. 

“You’ve got to aim it, Lo, love.” Finn told him.

“I am!” Logan fished his ball out of the little pool that he had hit it into, and set it on the green once more. He hit it again, a little too hard once again, the ball ricocheting off a rock. 

“Gentler, Lo,” Leo suggested. Logan tried once more, and the ball stopped right before the hole. He groaned as the ball bounced off the hole and back out on another swing. Logan swore quietly under his breath in French. He finally hit it in, with a sigh, taking the ball out and talking to it. 

“I have a feeling you hate me. But trust me, the feeling’s mutual!” 

Leo chuckled, Finn barely looked up from the score card. 

“So shall I put that down as maybe…a three?” Logan had hit it at least eight above par, but he and Finn had both made par, so Finn seemed to feel bad. 

“Non, rouge, don’t go easy on me. That was just a fluke.” He sidled up next to Finn, taking the pencil and writing in an eight. 

“Alright,” Finn said, laughing, giving Logan and Leo a kiss each before moving onto the next one. 

By the time Logan had hit his ball ten times, without making it into the hole, he started shouting once more. 

“I’m literally a professional athlete! My literal job is to get a puck in a net! And I can’t even get this in the hole!” 

Finn, who was closer to Logan, muttered something under his breath, most likely something inappropriate from the curve of his mouth, and Logan fought a grin, shoving Finn on the arm instead with a shake of his head. 

Then, “Uncle Tremzy?” 

There were running feet and an excited giggle as a tiny figure with red hair flew through the green to latch onto Logan’s legs. 

It took Leo’s brain a moment to catch up before someone was calling, “Remy!” and a hand was patting him on the shoulder. 

“Hey, guys!” Remus said, gold club in hand. “Funny seeing you here!” 

The man looked a little frazzled, but grinned at them. 

Remy Potter, who was now being swung up into Finn’s arms, giggled, “Uncle Remus, Uncle Leo, look! I’m flying!” Finn swung her around once more before setting her down. 

“Hey, Loops!” He greeted. “Where’s the rest of the gang? Are you out with Lily and the kids?” Leo couldn’t imagine Sirius ever going minigolfing. 

“Babysitting, actually.” 

“Hey, Remus, did you find her? Oh, hey guys!” Sirius said, coming into their view, leading two kids by the hands, Harry trailing after him. 

“Hey, Cap, baby Loops, all the little LilyPots.” When he had first heard them, Finn had been obsessed with the ship-names that fans often called his teammates and friends. He would often use the names to poke fun at the couples. By now, Finn just used them unironically, Leo guessed it had turned into a habit. 

“Having fun?” Sirius asked. 

“Well, some of us are,” Leo said, glancing at Logan, who had kneeled down to talk to Remy, simultaneously tightening one of her pigtails that had come undone in her flight. 

“Well, if this game wasn’t so impossible!” 

“Oh, you’ve got one of them, too, huh?” Remus asked, as he looked back at Sirius. Etta, their three-year-old, was now next to Remus, looking to be picked up. 

“This game is rigged!” Sirius shot back. 

“Just because an eight-year-old is beating you.” 

“Actually, a six-year-old,” Harry said, pointing at Evie Potter, who was hiding slightly behind Sirius, looking a bit overwhelmed by all the people. 

“I’m winning, too!” Etta said, now in Remus’s arms. She looked adorable with her little strawberry sunhat, small dark braids poking out, a little competitive pout on her face.

“Oui, ma chérie. You’re beating your Dada and I! But only because Reggie taught you how to golf! Unfair advantagem,” Sirius said. 

“Can Uncle Regulus teach me how to golf?” Harry asked, looking hopeful. 

“I think I’ll be signing up Sirius for some golf lessons with Uncle Regulus,” Remus said, with a smile aimed at Sirius. 

“Pretentious pédant,” Sirius muttered, but looked fond. “This game is impossible. But I guess it’s fun. Even if I’m being beaten by my godchildren and my three-year-old.” 

“And your husband,” Remus reminded, earning him a glare and a laugh from Leo. 

“Well, loser gets ice cream!” Sirius said, smiling at the kids. 

“I want ice cream!” Remy said, now running circles around them all with all the unbridled energy of an extra hyper four-year-old that Lily insisted was all James Potter’s genes. “Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!” 

“I think Uncle Sirius meant to say, loser buys ice cream!” Remus said, Remy now pulling him back toward their game. 

“Let’s go, Uncle Remus.” 

“Well, best of luck to you,” Sirius said, pointedly looking at Logan as he made to leave.

“Thanks, Cap, but I don’t need it. I’m gonna crush them, they don’t even know!” 

They all laughed, then Sirius was pulled away by the slightly less unbridled, hyper energy of Harry Potter. 

Leo waved to Evie, who was glancing back at them as she was led away by Sirius. She smiled and returned the wave. 

“I’ll never understand how Pots had such a calm kid,” Finn said, waving at her, as well. 

“Guess all the energy was pent up for the next one!” Logan said, laughing as they watched Remus barely stop Remy from jumping into one of the pools of water, one hand gripping her arm and pulling her away, the other still holding Etta. “I got her,” Sirius called as he took Remy into his arms, hauling her over his shoulder and upside down with an echo of giggles. 

When they finished their game and went to get their own ice cream, Logan had in fact not crushed them, and instead got one of the highest scores the workers had seen from someone who had tried. 

“You know, in my field of work, high scores are quite impressive,” Logan said to them, after autographing the score sheet when one of the blushing workers asked for his signature. 

“We’re gonna have to get you and Sirius to come here and see who wins,” Finn said, when they made their way to a picnic table in the shade of a tree. 

“I would so beat Cap in minigolf!” Logan insisted, stealing a lick of Leo’s ice cream cone. 

“Hey, tongue to yourself!” Leo said, laughing as Logan kissed him, tasting the sweet taste on his lips.  

“Yeah, you were right, Finn, that is definitely not something we usually say!”

--------

I hope you enjoyed! Logan being bad at minigolf is hilarious to me!

“What happens when it’s done?”

Logan’s throat closed immediately. His back teeth worked against each other in tiny pulses of pressure that ground away the shivers fighting to reach the rest of him. His stomach, unsettled since breakfast, sat like a rock. He wanted to itch the edges of his incision—they were driving him insane—but he put his hands under himself, instead. Rolled the sheets between his fingers. He wished they were clammy. Temporary panic would be so much better than this bottomless, hours-old void.

That hit hurt. And he’d gone down.

He’d left his breath on Vegas’ bench, along with most of his vision. So much weight behind him. He faintly remembered the impact forcing spit from his mouth; a glimmering spray before roughness caught him by the collar, and then it was ice, and then it was pain.

Logan had fought bigger people and won. Lost, too, but less in the last few seasons. Big guys, tall guys, enforcers, dirty players. Guys who treated hooking penalties like arcade points, and guys who always toed the line between a check and sending someone to the IR. Some people called Logan a dirty player, but he knew he kept his hits clean. Cap would have torn him a new one if he didn’t.

Fenrir Greyback liked pain far more than he liked hockey. The usual lines didn’t exist for him. Logan knew that. It pissed him off, but he knew it and he was prepared. He thought.

Stupid, maybe—the idea that anyone who did what he had done to Remus would play with any dignity at all, any honor. Logan played a rough game, and he met rough players with two skates down and both fists up, but he would never in a thousand years seek to hurt beyond repair.

Greyback wanted him hurt. Done. Finished.

He’d been cold on that table. Cold and sick. It had been a slow, painful decline into blackness.

Logan thought of locker rooms. He thought of Remus.

There had been no blood for him, soaking Julian or his mother when the dark took him. Maybe inside, draining into the spaces torn into his nineteen-year-old body by clawing, vicious, jubilant hands. Logan didn’t know. He’d never asked.

Greyback’s foot was a gunshot. He’d felt it all the way in his spine, and the whole long way down the tunnel. Getting his pads off came with a wave of relief from the pressure on his pulsing skin. It didn’t last long.

Logan turned his head on the pillow, toward where Leo was still looking at their joined hands.

“We’ll go to New York.”

Logan blinked. Beside them, Finn breathed softly, one arm low over his hips.

Leo nodded, almost to himself. His fingers danced across Logan’s knuckles. “You’ll be back in Gryffindor by then, with us.”

So sure. So solid.

“We’ll get Fish to find somewhere special for dinner. Somewhere nice, with something sweet for you at the end. One of his Christmas spots. We’ll get lunch with Saint and Luke the next day if we want, but we’ll have dinner just the three of us. Get you all dressed up in your greens. Then we’ll go home.” Leo’s eyes were moonstone blue in the dark. “I want to wake up with you the first morning after.”

I’m scared. I’m scaredI’mscared. “Then what?”

“Croissants. Coffee. You’re going to steal a sip of Finn’s and hate it.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you always do,” Leo laughed quietly.

He did, he did, oh god, he did. “That’s it? Dinner and breakfast forever?”

“Yeah,” Leo said, eyes shining. “Isn’t it great?”

Yes. A thousand times over.

Leo twined their fingers together and brought them to his mouth. “We’re gonna be such hot dads, too.”

The first tear slid down Logan’s cheek.

“Can you imagine? That one over there is gonna cause an accident every time he does preschool pickup. Oh, and I call dibs on bake sales, but we can share swim lessons. You can do…what, little league? You’d be cute playing baseball. Are we going to be those hockey dads that throw their kid in skates at eighteen months?”

Logan sniffled. “Ouais.”

Leo sighed, tipping his head to the side. “Well, you’ll have to fight it out with Loops for cub coaching, then.”

“Okay,” he said thickly.

“I was thinking we’d stay in Gryffindor,” Leo said, as if he hadn’t noticed what every word from his mouth did to Logan. He would. God, of course he did. “We can move, if you really want. New York’s a little loud for me, sometimes. New Orleans is far, and too hot for you. And, you know, hockey’s tough. We could stay by your family.”

“Quebec is too cold,” Logan managed, smudging at his cheek with the sheets.

“I could make it work.”

Logan shook his head. He’d never ask that. “It’s too cold.”

“Okay.” That made him happy. Logan could tell.

“We’ll stay,” Logan decided. “Gryffindor. Close to Dumo, and Cap. Probably Noelle.”

Leo’s mouth tilted playfully. “He might be carried off to the wilds of Wisconsin if we’re not careful.”

“Loops wouldn’t leave us.”

“Neither of them would.” Something sad buffeted his face, then, but Leo was still smiling. His thumb pressed to the dip of Logan’s chin. “You should’ve heard him, baby. He was right there for you.”

“Remus?”

“Yeah. We miss you.” Carefully, Leo leaned over and kissed his forehead. The mattress hardly moved beneath Logan. “Miss you so much. I’d wake Fish up to tell you, too, but he’d cry.”

“Non,” Logan said softly.

“I won’t,” Leo promised. His knuckles ran down Logan’s cheek. The sadness was still there; the pain, too, of a different kind than the ache and sting of Logan’s midsection. Then, like he could read Logan’s mind, “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Itchy.”

“Hurts?”

“Like a bad bruise.”

A bad, bad bruise. Deep enough to touch a couple organs. It stretched across his whole torso, blackest in the wonky specter of a skate toe. He was unbelievably lucky that the blade had been cushioned by his jersey, they said. Logan counted his luck in his sister, and the two bodies in his bed.

“Is she okay?” he asked, turning the collar of Leo’s pajama shirt between his fingertips.

“They made coffee a little while ago. Or tea, I couldn’t tell. Thomas likes the foldout.”

Two key pieces of information for one question. Logan liked those odds. “You’re not sleeping?”

Caught. Leo narrowed his eyes. “Neither are you. But I’m trying.”

“Let me—”

“Rest,” Leo insisted, cutting him off. He patted Logan’s chest with all the force of a dragonfly. “I’m fine. Just a little freaked, still.”

If only arguing would help. Logan pressed his lips together obediently, and Leo smiled, Leo kissed him soft, so maybe it was okay just for tonight.

They laid together in the silence of his apartment and Finn’s muffled exhales.

It wouldn’t leave him alone, gnawing at his stitches and the edges of his heart. Remus, frightened and alone. Sirius, driven to the point of collapse. Finn, panicked, broken on the ice, his careful eyes and the uncanny squareness of his shoulders during every followup appointment after his third concussion. Their battered bunch of Lions made quite the picture.

And Leo. He’d seen how the riptide of retirement swallowed people up more closely than most (except, perhaps, Sirius, though Logan had never asked him about that either and probably should one of these days). Leo, still dreaming of them and a life beyond this all-consuming game.

Dinner in the city, breakfast like their favorite mornings. Not a loop, but a throughline. A foundation for more.

“I don’t know how I’d be.” When it was over. When he was done. People grew angry.

People grew sad.

You’re out for the playoffs, Lo. And when it was more, and Logan was staring down the barrel of—nothing? He didn’t want it all to end with him fucking dying on the ice, but god, the sudden drop of aging out almost scared him more. He didn’t know himself without this game.

Leo sighed, and Logan could hear the sleepiness blur its edges. They were sharing a pillow. He hoped that stayed, through it all.

• • •

It took Logan all the courage he could gather, even though the thought itself felt like committing a crime. Through the water-streaked doors, he saw himself reflected in the bathroom mirror. Both glasses were spotless, of course. He was positively surprised neither of them had already sublimated.

Against the steady jet of water, Logan closed his eyes to savor his dying moment of cool pleasure. Though hesitant, he reached blindly for the handle hanging at his side—categorically, he'd made sure of it, pointing toward the little blue dot. He turned off the hissing shower with an angry flick of his wrist, as a heavy sigh slipped off his wet lips. "Merde."

Maybe his sisters had always made a good point about his dramatic tendencies, but the last couple of days had really cut Logan off at the knees.

The shower doors slid open to what could have been a static oven. The bathroom was almost dark, the blinds drawn tight against the afternoon light. It was nearly empty, stripped down to the basics. Soaps, toothbrushes, a couple of used razors. And of course, the newly inducted family of rubber ducks that now lived permanently in the bathtub (also known as, by popular decree, "The Quacks").

Logan narrowed his eyes on the set of towels draped over the radiator as he stepped onto the carpet. Leo would probably kill him for dripping all over the plush fabric, but his footsteps were drying as quickly as the tepid film of water coating his skin. Those thin drops falling from his hair and tickling his shoulders were, for once, a blessing that kept him grounded—just like that sweet buzz, quiet but strong and alive, coming in low hums from the bedroom.

Logan's hand shook with anticipation around the cold metal handle, and when he almost slipped through the door into the first hint of a fresh breeze washing over the bedroom, he thought he might cry, suddenly and hysterically.

God, was he losing his mind?

It wasn't like he'd threatened the thermostat with a screwdriver fifteen minutes earlier, only to beg the thing for any sign of life a moment later. That would've been weird. If there had been witnesses, that is.

Here lies Logan Tremblay, struck down in his mid-thirties by a scorching heat wave and a faulty AC system.

Not to mention the piles of boxes stacked in every corner of the apartment, sealed with thick brown tape and marked with bright red lettering by Finn's unmistakable hand. Logan wasn’t sure how the one with the FRAGILE!!!! warning written on each side had ended up on the dresser, unsteadily balanced on top of five others.

He'd never admit it out loud, since he'd complained so much about the whole packing nightmare, but he secretly came to love reading through them: A trail of cardboards filled with bits and pieces of years he was pretty sure he hadn't fully processed yet. Not entirely. But, God, did they all feel real.

So it didn't matter if he had to cross a minefield to reach the closet and grab a clean pair of underwear. Not if it meant that Leo's and Finn's winter coats were boxed up on the bedroom floor, ready to be moved together. Not if a mountain-tall stack of furniture, kitchenware, books, and a lifetime's worth of memorabilia lined the hallway walls, leaving just enough space to squeeze through.

Truth be told, it recently became quite challenging not to stumble over the most random objects every other step. Oliver included, the little fudge-furred terror they'd rescued from the streets only a few months back. Logan was sold the second he looked into two big, scared hazel eyes peeking from behind a ratty blanket in Finn's arms, as a wall of feeble meows stole its way into all their hearts.

Apparently, though, the awareness itself didn't stop Logan from tripping over his feet as he entered the living room.

"There you are," came a quiet snort from the couch. "Sorry, I was actually looking for that one."

Not the cat, then. The little menace was too busy staring down at Logan with a judgmental tilt of his snout, comfortably tucked into a loaf in the middle of the round ottoman.

"Câlice—" The curse died on Logan's lips as he crouched to pick up the stuffed lion cub at his feet. He traced his fingers along the golden letter B embroidered on the back of its familiar maroon jersey.

As quickly as it'd come, when Logan looked up and took in the view awating him across the room, any trace of frustration simply vanished. He wondered if it'd ever stop stealing every last breath out of his lungs.

"Do you think Sirius went for the B on purpose?" He asked, ignoring the wild hammering in his chest.

"Oh, totally," Finn tisked. Sprawled out on the couch in just a pair of boxers, he looked uncomfortably hot, flushed and sweaty from head to toe. But Logan knew he'd rather melt on the spot than move a sleeping Blair an inch farther from where she was starfished on his chest. "There's no limit to what the self-entitled 'most amazing uncle' would do for his favorite niece."

Logan leaned against the wall, casually twirling the toy in his hands. "Subtle."

"Kasey would've sewn his number himself if he got the idea first."

"Ouais," Logan snorted. An eye-crinkling grin took over his face as Finn ducked down to press a delicate kiss on a full head of honey-blond curls. "Took you long to get her down?"

"Not at all," Finn smiled, though his exhausted eyes seemed to differ. He tilted his chin toward the TV, the volume barely audible. "Scales and Arpeggios worked its magic. Sent her to dreamland in point two seconds.”

"Hm. That's gonna be the song of the summer, eh?"

"Uh-huh. I fear Under the Sea’s days are officially behind us.”

"Two whole weeks," Logan set his lips in a firm, impressed pout, nodding along. “That’s a record for us.”

“You know Alex is buying her that Flounder costume for Halloween anyway.”

"He better." Logan jabbed a mocking finger in Finn's direction. "Wanna share something refreshing with me, cœur?"

"Sure, baby," Finn nodded happily. "I think there’s fruit in the fridge. Saw Le slicing watermelon this morning.”

Another pout took over Logan's mouth, this time deliberately mournful. "Ice cream."

He wondered if he'd ever get tired of this—something as simple as watching Finn's freckled hand lie protectively over Blair's even more speckled back, holding her still as he shook through a playfully sneering laugh. Because some things never really changed, after all, and Logan wouldn't have it any other way.

"Mint chocolate chip?"

Logan crossed his arms, biting back another smile he'd long since lost control of. "Chocolate."

"Cookies and cream and two spoons," was Finn's final offer.

Already on his way to the kitchen, over his shoulder Logan drawled a suffered, half-hearted, "D'accord."

In a rare moment of truce like this, only one thing could keep Finn away from the dusty stack of books he'd been piling on the coffee table. Two, at most—but only on an exceptionally good day. Right now, one of those reasons was actually playing on TV at minimum volume.

"Rouge," Logan laughed. It came out way too much giddier than intended.

Finn's suspicious look only made Logan double up—a look that comically matched the cat's affronted glare, complete with pointy airplane ears to let Logan know he'd just ungraciously interrupted a very good nap. Again.

"What? What's so funny?"

"You don't need an excuse to rewatch Disney movies over and over, you know?”

Finn stuck out his tongue. "We were watching together. Now, where's my ice cream, Tremblay?"

Logan scoffed a fight-less, "You're ridiculous," when Finn opened his mouth wide. But the truth was that he'd sooner die than deny his husband anything. A weakness that, from the look of it, extended to hand-feeding him spoonfuls of cookie-filled vanilla, while Finn cradled their daughter in the safest place Logan could think of.

Call him a victim of a brown-eyed bliss, one that burned as brightly as the day two stubborn, young threads of life became inextricably intertwined.

The small smile that caught Logan mid-bite was innocent, yet loaded with that same old spark. "Honestly, I don't know how many times I've seen this one."

"Oh, I know," Logan mumbled, popping a piece of frozen Oreo into his mouth. "I know it’s been at least once a year since we met. It's your mom's favorite."

One of those times being that first New Year's Eve the three of them spent in New York with Finn's parents, snowed in with no choice but to indulge in rich hot chocolate, a pile of blankets to sink into, and a movie marathon to count down to midnight. Just one of Logan's many memories of it, though not quite his personal favorite. "Remember—"

"That time I begged you to spend the last night before Christmas break in our dorm room watching The Aristocats instead of going out, and you didn't think twice about staying?" Finn said in one long breath, one corner of his mouth lifting into a sly smirk. "Yeah."

"Ouais." A loud crack of fondness resonated in Logan's voice. Keeping an eye on Blair, he sank down into the cushion to claim his favorite spot on Finn's free shoulder. Or rather—an adjusted version of it. At a heat-safe distance so that Finn wouldn't actually fuse with the leather, yet close enough for the world to dissolve into a gorgeous sea of constellations. "I remember that one."

A puffy nose and shiny, feverish brown eyes had called for quite a serious, emergency-driven slip of Logan's self-control. Why join his teammates at some random party on campus when a perfectly reasonable excuse to snuggle in bed with Finn—complaining the whole time that he was being a baby about it—presented itself?

Twenty-year-old Logan couldn't have imagined—or even allowed himself to dream of—a timeline in this life where they would get another night in each other's arms. Much less the rest of their lives, in sickness and in health.

"You know, maybe Perc was right after all," Finn mused, as if reading clear through Logan's thoughts.

"Hm? About what?"

"Us not being that subtle back in school," Finn smiled, a lopsided twitch of his lips he aimed at the ceiling with a soft roll of his eyes.

Logan didn't let him linger, forcing him to look back with just a touch of his fingertips to his scruffy chin. "Maybe," he breathed, brushing their noses together. Back and forth three times. Through the haze of a melting kiss—a taste of Finn's lips that still managed to make his skin buzz—Logan found Finn's hand. It was a feather-light weight on Blair's warm back, waiting for Logan's thumb to trace the worn lines of the gold band on his ring finger. An old, loving habit Logan had picked up from Leo. "Gave him some good material for the most hilarious wedding speech ever, though."

Finn's laugh was soft. He linked their fingers together. "It did."

When the telltale jingle of keys came from the opening front door, Logan held onto Finn's squeeze tighter.

"Good Lord, I swear that's what Hell must feel like—oh!" A grimace of pure terror wrinkled Leo's face as the door slammed shut behind him.

The loud bang startled Blair. Her chubby hands clutched at the sharp line of Finn's collarbone in alarm. Logan caught a glimpse of her dozy brown eyes, fighting so hard to stay open as she slowly nuzzled back into the hollow of Finn's neck. From the big yawn that scrunched her nose, Logan was sure she was drifting back to sleep already. It made the pacifier slip from her rosebud lips, drawing out an unbearably cute, contented huff.

Paralyzed on the doormat, Leo blinked one guilty eye closed. "Sh—oot."

"Soleil," Logan stood up, stifling a laugh on the back of his hand. "She's too young to understand, non?"

"Nom nom," Finn mumbled, pinching a wild lock of Blair's hair between his fingers. "God, I'm gonna be excessively outnumbered in this family, aren't I?"

"Well, damn," Leo huffed a breathless laugh. He handed a few grocery bags to Logan, catching him with a soft peck on his lips. Humidity had gotten the better of his hair, a fizzy mess of curls sticking out all over his head. He was beautifully tanned from his long morning runs with Finn, but a new flaming sheen had appeared on the bridge of his nose. Logan got to kiss it, too when Leo twirled him in his arms. "Skin-on-skin time with Daddy? Call me jealous."

"It's 103°, Sunshine," Finn said, shooting Leo a pleading look. "I love you with everything I am, but until this house reaches a reasonable temperature again, you can forget about it."

"Meanie," Leo pouted, and ducked to press a trail of lingering kisses to the underside of Logan's jaw. "Thank God we have a gorgeous pair of magic hands that can fix anything."

"Can't argue with that," Finn winked.

Leo's touch, Finn's voice. They lulled Logan like droplets of sea-cold water into a different level of sublimity. For a moment, just the briefest blink of silence, Logan let himself loose in it—tired and sleepless, completely overwhelmed by the most intense, blissful eighteen months of his life.

When he opened his eyes, it was to his ocean of blue. Gentle and steadying, an anchor in the quiet storm approaching. Logan had been reluctant at first at the idea of moving, tied to all the memories framed on the bare walls of this apartment. First times, old ties, blank new pages, and just one more goodbye. But a future that shone brighter than a starry night awaited them past the threshold. And this time, he had no regrets to look back on.

"Look," Leo whispered. He gave Logan's hips a double pinch, nudging his cheek with his nose toward the couch. Oliver had jumped on the cushion next to Finn, and his saucer-wide eyes were glued to the TV. Logan could have sworn he was kneading the pillow to the beat of Thomas O'Malley Cat filling the room.

Finn turned the volume up slightly. "I think someone here has a crush."

"On a red-haired gentleman of Irish descent," Leo pointed out, dead serious as he peered for a glimpse of Logan's eyes. "I guess it runs in the family, huh?"

"Oh my God, Le," Logan choked out, just as a barking laugh from Finn jolted Blair awake.

A moment of numb confusion slipped by, and then her mouth pursed into a sad little wobble that flooded Finn with guilt.

"Oh, my baby." He wrapped her in his arms to brush his lips against the tip of her small button nose. "I'm so sorry, Bug."

Easily forgiven, that one—if the beam that painted her face when they looked at each other was anything to go by. Logan softened against Leo's chest. Two hearts racing in tandem, left breathless watching their daughter squirm with joy through the waterfall of kisses Finn peppered her face with.

"Guess who's home," Finn whispered in her ear, wiggling a finger at Leo, still pressed tightly to Logan's back.

Finn slowly helped her roll onto her side and sit up on his lap. The grin that bloomed on her sleep-smushed face when she saw Leo could have lit up the universe. She clapped her hands together, and Leo didn't even wait for her squeaky, jabbering, "Dada!" before lifting her into his arms.

"Hello, Sweetheart," he murmured against her puffy cheek. "Did you have a good nap?"

From the corner of his eye, Logan saw Finn holding out his hands for them. If possible, the light glinting in his soft brown eyes filled Logan's heart to the brim, overflowing with a burning flame that even words yet to be forged couldn't possibly convey.

Logan took Finn's hand in his, and Leo let himself be pulled into their puddle of cuddles, nestling Blair between their legs. At the end of the sectional, an unbothered Oliver silently curled up at Logan's feet.

Layered beneath Finn's gold-streaked gaze, Logan saw a load of unshaped worry.

"Un bisou pour Papa?" Logan reached out and tapped Blair's chin with the pad of his thumb.

"Pa-pa," she chirped. Her arms sprang wide open and she flung herself onto Leo—whose oof of pain was quickly silenced by one of Finn's smiling kisses—before she crawled onto Logan's lap.

"You're quiet," Leo noted, voicing the question Logan saw bright in Finn's eyes. Meanwhile, Blair grasped Logan's cheeks to leave a series of bitey, blowy pecks all over his face.

Finn's voice was a careful touch. "Whatcha thinkin', baby?"

Logan was sure they already knew the answer. He hadn't been particularly subtle about it.

Like him, Finn and Leo had moved so far from what they used to call home that they’d quickly figured out how to navigate the shift. A new house, a dormitory, a single room in a basement. It was never about the four walls that held it together, but always about the people who made it a home.

This place, though? It held a different kind of power over Logan.

For all the times he'd wanted to run away without looking back, and those he'd never wanted to leave.

Blair was picking at Logan's necklace to play with the silver pendant—lately, one of her favorite pastimes—when Logan found his words. There was barely a shake in his voice when he asked, "We’re going to tell her the stories?"

Nimble fingers began trading soothing strokes up and down Logan's neck, raising a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "All of them, honey," Leo promised.

Finn smiled when their eyes met. "A tuck-in tale for every night to come."

Fables to carve into marble, a monument neither the biting rain, nor the flight of ages could ever destroy.

There was a shift in the girl in his arms and then the soft whispered voice of Logan. 

“Daddy’s trying to sleep, Margo. Allez, out of here.” Then there was a giggle as the girl was taken up and out of Leo’s arms. 

Leo cracked his eyes open just enough to see Logan wrestling the girl onto his back and sneaking out of the room, closing the door on the way. He closed his eyes once again. 

A handful of minutes later, Leo couldn’t have guessed how long, the door creaked open a third time, then closed, and someone joined him on the bed once more, this time near his back. Leo rolled over, his eyes still closed, and found someone’s shoulder. He nuzzled in, and could smell a scent that could only be Logan. 

He groaned, nuzzling in further before a hand came up and ran through his hair, then down his neck. Then the motion was repeated with varying forms of pressure added, moving onto his shoulders. Leo groaned once again. 

God, that felt good. He hadn’t realized he was feeling so tense. 

“If you keep sounding like that, I’m not sure if we’ll make it downstairs today.” Leo smiled, still sleepy, at Logan’s gravelly morning voice. 

“The kids?” 

“Finn’s got ‘em.” 

“Breakfast?” 

“Taken care of, even Finn and I can make yogurt and fruit.” 

“Milk, too?”

“Oui, Vivi’s all fed and changed.” 

Leo sighed once more. 

“I love you.” 

“Love you more, mon soleil.” 

“Time to get up?” 

“Nah. I was sent in here to keep you company. Finn’s taking them to the park for a bit after breakfast.” 

“Need help?” 

“Non, his specific instructions were ‘make sure he sleeps at least two more hours’ because apparently 'even his magic boo-boo healing kisses can’t heal your poor tired eyes.'” Leo snorted at that. Finn’s magic boo-boo healing kisses had definitely saved them a lot of money on bandaids the last few years. “Sounds like you had a late night, then?” 

“More like an early morning.” Finn had found him at three in the morning, trying his best to get their four-month-old to take his bottle. He had been up since one, when Oliver had woken up the first time and refused to drink the milk he offered. He knew that Logan had fed him at midnight, and so Leo had simply changed him and put him back to sleep, only to be woken up once again at two thirty to a hungry and irritable baby. When Finn had walked in, Leo had nearly cried, and Finn had taken one look and grabbed the bottle, the baby, and led Leo back out of the room to go back to sleep. But they all knew that Leo had a terrible time trying to sleep if he heard the least bit of crying, and Finn had come back thirty minutes later to find Leo still awake, feeling guilty about his inability to help, simply staring at Logan’s sleeping figure. 

Strangely enough, he must have slept straight through their usual five am wake up feeding call, which Finn often took care of before going out for his morning run. 

And here he was, still sleeping at whatever time this was. 

“What’s the time?” 

“Just past eight.” 

“Have to go soon?” Logan often left for practice by nine, and Finn should definitely be out the door for school. 

“Not today, beurre. It’s Saturday. I don’t have a game today. Finn’s not teaching. You’re allowed to sleep. Just rest, love.” 

He let the low French wash over him as he sighed into the kiss Logan left on his shoulder, then on his cheek. 

He drifted off for a few more minutes before he heard the distinct sound of crying from downstairs. 

“Ollie,” Leo said, moving to get up. But Logan pulled him back before he had even gotten to the edge of the bed. 

“Finn’s got it, soleil. Please just relax. Let us take care of you. As Finn would say, ‘you’re so bad at relaxing.’”

He would say that. He had said that, especially since they’d had kids. 

And sure enough, the crying stopped a minute later. 

There was more sound from downstairs. An excited squeal from Margo, Oliver’s giggles, running footsteps, Finn’s clear voice with an,  “Alletz go!” followed by their three-year-old’s protests at the terrible French. 

They had clearly taught her well. 

“He’s so loud,” Logan said, extremely fondly. 

As they heard the door close, Logan started petting through Leo’s hair once again, and he relaxed further into Logan’s chest. 

“Just sleep, mon joli soleil.”