#oknutzy

I'll Call You by Mine. - (E) SW AU. Logan and Finn meet Finn's rookie year. Logan has a different path to the NHL. Prompt: Purple.

Place Differential -(M) NASCAR AU. Logan Tremblay spends his life racing away from things. France, Formula 1, and Finn in no particular order. (WIP). Prompt: Racing

The Afterparty - (E) Logan wears a crop top. It gets the point across. Prompt: "Good Morning to Me."

Dream after Dream after Dream - (T) A follow up to my other fic Clancy both of which focus on the cubs after retirement. While Clancy is about Leo. Dream is about Finn. Who...struggles to find his place post-NHL. Prompt: Changes.

You Look Like You Want Me to Want You to Come on Home - (M) What if they were farmers? Prompt: "Hello there."

Finn wasn’t sure he’d ever been so sweaty.

“Thank you, yeah, that looks great.”

Or tired. Jesus, he was so fucking tired.

“The keys are—? Okay, perfect, sounds good.”

Thank god for Logan, because his brain could hardly string together a sentence in English, let alone attempt anything else.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t…oui, yeah, he’s—”

So when they pulled up to the front desk (tired, hot, admittedly grimy), Finn gave himself a little grace.

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you supposed to be here?”

“Yes,” Finn said slowly. The front desk person flipped her hair over her shoulder and clicked her mouse a few more times. Her nametag read CAMILLE above the name of the hotel he was absolutely, 1000% sure they had a room in.

Though at this point, he’d believe just about anything.

“I don’t see,” Camille said with a bored shrug. “Sorry. Tremblay? With a T?”

“Oui,” Logan answered.

Finn could hear the edge in his voice. That I’m tired, and you are standing between me and my bed annoyance that felt like a spitting kitten when directed at himself but was never taken well by strangers. He pressed the pad of his thumb to the pulsing dent on his nose left by his glasses. “Um. Can we try a different name?”

Camille shrugged again. “Sure.”

“O’Hara. First name Finn.”

They’d booked this so long ago. Any of them could have called it in. God, Finn had never even thought about this part of polyamory. Maybe he should write a book. Two Lovers? No Problem: Solutions for Everyday Mix-Ups in the Modern World, by F.C. O’Hara. Edited by L. Knut and L. Tremblay. Hmm. Logan would be irked if he was listed last. Maybe it was time to get a joint last name. Two hyphens wouldn’t simplify things at all, though, and they’d never agree on one. Or would they?

Another chapter for the book.

“O’Hara…” Camille pursed her vivid red lips. “Multiple O’s?”

Finn stared. “No, just—just the one.”

“Okay.” Oh-kaye. Almost like Logan’s, but not quite. He’d always been put off at how different Logan sounded compared to the average Frenchman. Faint surprise darted over Camille’s face. “Ah! We have a room, yes. Finn?”

“Yes. F-i-n-n.”

“Large room, one king bed. Do you need us to bring a cot?”

It would be unbelievably funny to accept if it was literally any other day. “No.”

She remained impassive. He probably would have started crying if she was mean about it, at this point. “Parfait. Three keys, breakfast is in the room down the hall and to the left from seven o’clock until ten, you have a parking spot in the garage, please call the front desk if you have any needs, linens are changed every other day, you get a discount—ten percent—at the restaurant in the lobby, thank you joining us for your stay in Paris and bon nuit.”

“Merci.”

She winced. Finn took the keys from the desk and headed for the elevator, and prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that his boys hadn’t fallen asleep in the nine thousand years that had passed since they dragged their carcasses through the revolving door.

The elevator door shut with a cheerful ping.

“O’Horo.”

“Ooooooo’Hara.”

Finn closed his eyes to the sound of manic giggling. “I can’t,” he groaned, and kicked petulantly at the wheels of his suitcase. “I can’t do it.”

Leo hummed. “Would it be Oooh’Hara or Ooooo’Hara?”

“Ooooo,” Logan decided. “Like a ghost. Ooo.”

“I confirmed with them yesterday!”

“I feel like there’s some merit to O’Horo, though,” Leo continued.

Logan tsked. “Non, I like the ghost.”

“They have my phone number!” The door slid open, with a much lower chime. Apparently, getting to their rooms was serious business. Finn didn’t care. He was in the hall before the stupid little noise was even done. He turned a plaintive look on Leo as they headed down the hall. “They have both our names on the reservation, Le. Both! I checked! Yesterday!”

Leo reached out and passed a hand through his hair. “You poor thing, you’re red all through your freckles.”

“I am,” Finn said hotly. The click of the room door was the trumpets of heaven. He made straight for the end of the bed and flopped down face first.

“Thank fuck,” Logan sighed. Finn turned his head to the side once breathing got too hard—just in time to watch Logan strip off his shirt and begin unbuttoning his pants in the same breath, leaving both haphazard on the floor in his wake. “I’m taking my shower, come bother me.”

“I…” Leo’s bemusement was not enough to stop him from visibly raking his eyes down Logan’s (delicious) back before it vanished behind the bathroom door. Nor did it stop him from catching Logan’s boxers when they were thrown out by a disembodied hand two seconds later.

He looked at Finn. Finn did his best Camille impression, and shrugged. “Hot.”

“Hotter than he can handle.”

“’S why he has us.” Finn put his face back in the sheets and let all the air out of his body through one long, warbling groan.

Leo laughed at him; plastic wheels creaked. The shower kicked on. Now that he had a millisecond to think about it, that didn’t sound so bad. A nice rinse, even though he probably needed to really suds up. Logan could wash his hair. He sort of did it like he was washing a large retriever, all big scrubs and heavy affection. It wasn’t how he washed his own. Finn sort of loved it. A lot.

Weight fell down beside him, all the way down to the end of the mattress. If a thousand bodies did the same, Finn thought, he’d be able to pick Leo out every time. There was that tiny noise—a stretch. He’d be flexing his feet up and down. In a few seconds, he’d probably—

Indeed. But when Leo finished cracking his knuckles, he didn’t move on to splaying all his limbs out. He didn’t even shuffle into Finn’s side. Instead, he slung his weight upright again, and a leg fell over Finn’s butt before the rest of him followed.

“Did you take your pants off?” Finn mumbled. He was too tired to turn and see.

“Yeah.”

Cool air hit his back in waves with each new inch of skin revealed. Leo pushed his shirt up the last couple inches, then spread his palms across Finn’s shoulder blades and pressed down with most of his weight.

“Good?”

“You’re amazing.” He hoped Leo could hear him through fabric and foam.

“Hmm.” He could. He was smiling. Good. “Thanks again for driving today.”

Finn managed something like no problem. His eyelids were heavy. Oh, no, they were closed. The sound of Logan splashing around was basically white noise. And Leo was heavy, all warm across his back and thighs, kneading the ache out of his back even though Finn was probably disgusting. Leo would like the balcony, here. He could be up by seven, pop down to the continental breakfast for coffee and pastries, and bring some back before the two of them woke so they could eat outside.

Or, even better—he could find a corner bakery. Enough charades and apologetic smiles could get him something good, times three. Not that people in Paris didn’t speak English, but Finn hated the thought of being rudely American.

A kiss brushed his ear. “You’re quiet.”

“Sleepy.”

“Long day.” A gentle pass of palms, up either side of his spine. Leo blew lightly across his back. “Still too hot?”

“Nah.”

“We’ll get you some sunscreen tomorrow. Oh, and sunglasses, mine broke in my bag.”

“Aw, really?’

“Yeah, forgot the case at home.” There was a sound like Leo had patted for his pockets, only to meet skin instead. Finn laughed into the bedspread and felt Leo squeeze his hips between his thighs. “Hey, you only get to laugh if you’ve got a pen hiding in there somewhere.”

“Sorry, not me.” One pale knee greeted him, and a thigh stretching up and out of sight beyond. Finn rubbed his cheek on the duvet cover and let his eyes close again. “You gonna go bother the wet beast?”

“Maybe, just to tell him you called him that.”

“It’s true. Say vray.”

Leo’s elbow worked at the knot beneath his shoulder blade. “Don’t go anywhere in this country without us, honey, your mouth was made for other things.”