#I've had some shit happen at work ... i fell asleep and reported it a few hours late... it's nbd because it's not my department b but still.

[crazysodomite]

Genuinely. I've been happy these past few days because of an oc I saw from a certain artist... Idk why it stuck with me so much... But yeah

- Your Secret Regular Admirer

[fruitcoops]

I don't know if you are taking asks anymore, so if you are not you can ignore this or put it to the very end of your list. But I was hoping you could write something angsty for coops but with a happy ending. Maybe one of them is having a bad mental health day? I've been struggling so I'd really like to read something sad but also comforting. Thank you so much!

Lovely anon, I hope you are doing better <3 It’s been a few days since this ask came in (sorry) but it was really cathartic to write and I hope it is a good balance of sad and comforting. I combined it with two similar asks, which are listed below:

Coops/ SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Prompt 26: “I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I’m just…really tired.”

Prompt 30: “You’re not okay.”

“Sirius. Sirius.”

He blinked and shook his head, clearly trying to come back to reality. “What?”

“I asked if you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“You’re scowling.”

“I’m fine.” The resignation and frustrated confusion in his voice worried Remus. He almost sounded like when he got heatstroke, just…different. Angry.

“Are you ready to head out?”

“I’m going to tap a puck around for a bit, I think.”

Remus frowned. That superstition only came out after bad games, when Sirius’ pent-up energy twisted around and burrowed into him rather than overflowing in tangible waves that boosted everyone around them. A remnant of years spent blaming himself for not being the absolute best, Remus supposed. “You don’t want to do that at home?”

“Not really,” Sirius said harshly. Not shouting, not snapping—harsh. Harsh in a way he never was with Remus. Talker, the only other person left in the locker room, picked up his bag and left silently with a final glance between them.

“Talk to me, baby,” Remus tried again, softening his voice. Making Sirius feel pressured was the worst way to go about this.

As expected, the frown slipped slightly. “I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I’m just…really tired.”

“Okay. Ten minutes?”

Sirius sighed and scrubbed his hand through his hair without looking up. His skates were still laced up tight. “Ten minutes.”

Twenty minutes later, they were on the road heading home. The car was uncomfortably quiet, as if they were both waiting to say something, but Remus refrained from making any comments until Sirius opened up. Poking and prodding was never a productive method, and he was exhausted from the game, which had been far too close for a team like the Ravens.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Good.”

“I think I just need some food.”

“And sleep.”

“And sleep,” Sirius added as an afterthought. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“I’m always quiet,” Remus said with a light laugh.

“Not around me, you’re not.” A smile tugged at the edges of Sirius’ lips when he glanced over, then faded into the troubled darkness from the locker room. Few members of the team had swung by for fist bumps or postgame chatter with him once the interviews were done; any reporters who approached were met with a cold stare.

“I was thinking about asking Reg to come over for Christmas, too.” Remus looked back out the passenger window. “Jules misses him and it’s been a while since we all had dinner together.”

“D’accord.”

“We might need to convince Dumo to let him go, but—”

“I said that sounds fine,” Sirius huffed, turning onto the road that led to their house.

Remus looked at him, eyebrows raised. “I know. I heard you. I figured I’d ask for your opinion on getting him to come over, considering he’s your brother, but if you really don’t care then I’ll just call in the morning.”

“That works.” The engine turned off and Remus locked the doors. Sirius unlocked them, only for Remus to click his key again.

“What happened? You’re not okay.”

Sirius blew out a long breath and let his head fall back for a moment. “I told you, I’m just tired.”

“You get cuddly or grumbly when you’re tired. You shut down when you’re upset. What did the reporters say?”

“Can I at least take a shower before you start interrogating me?”

Ouch. Okay. Remus tucked his key into his pocket and grabbed his duffel from the backseat. “Go for it. I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re ready to talk.”

It felt weird entering the house alone after winning a game. Sure, it had been close, but they still won and Sirius generally went into Hockey Obsession Mode after skin-of-their-teeth victories. The last time Remus had seen him like this was when a rude reporter asked whether he had spoken to his parents since the All-Stars and Sirius silenced him with a thunderstorm glare.

The pasta he reheated tasted like sawdust, but it cleared his head a bit and stopped the growling in his stomach. Sirius was still in the shower when he went upstairs; leaning against the tile while steam practically suffocates him, I bet, he thought as he changed into his softest pajama pants and tossed his postgame clothes into the hamper.

Sirius looked everywhere but at him when he came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and began digging through the dresser. “Your sweatpants are over here,” Remus reminded him. He didn’t respond. “Ignoring me is a dick move. I know you’re upset but that’s not cool.”

His broad shoulders slumped and he paused his search. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. What are you looking for?”

“Manches longues.” With a low hum, Sirius pulled on his most beat-up long sleeve shirt and slipped into bed, then immediately turned on his side, facing away from Remus. “Bonne nuit, mon amour.”

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

“Very sure.”

Remus settled onto his side as well and, after a moment’s hesitation, reached out and touched the back of Sirius’ shoulder. He flinched slightly. “Sirius.”

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like—” He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling with an angry huff, waving one hand around. “Like it’s so soft. It’s not. I’m not.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m not.” The corners of his eye glimmered in the low light of the full moon.

Remus shifted closer, just enough that he could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Yes, you are. With Harry, with the team, with me. You’re allowed to be soft, honey.”

“I don’t want to be,” Sirius said angrily.

“I think you do.”

“I hate it when I feel like this.” His voice broke and he inhaled shakily. Remus hummed his agreement, resting one hand a few inches from Sirius’. “All those reporters—they think I’m like that all the time. That I’m aggressive and untouchable and perfect, even off the ice.”

“But you’re not.”

“But I’m not. I’m not, and I don’t want to be, but I don’t want to let them down.”

“The reporters don’t matter.”

Sirius shook his head as the first tear slid down his cheek, toward his ear. “I don’t give a shit about them. I don’t want to let the fans down. It would be so much easier if I could be the captain all the time, but I can’t. They ask about the youngest captain and I always forget that it’s me. They ask about Regulus and I have to remember if they know he spent last week snarking at me about vacuuming or if they think we still fight. They ask about you and—and I’m tired of it. I love you, but sometimes I just want to talk about hockey. I play hockey and I have a life that is separate, but they don’t seem to understand that.”

Remus brushed away the tear tracks with his thumb and Sirius closed his eyes, tangling their hands together. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m sorry you feel like that,” he rephrased. “It’s a lot of pressure for one person.”

Sirius half-smiled. “You make it better.”

“Can I hold you?”

His smile wobbled. “Please do.”

Remus wrapped one arm around his waist and drew him close against his chest, threading his other hand through his hair as he placed gentle kisses to the top of his head. He had washed his hair in the shower—the minty scent was calming, and the slowly-drying curls were soft. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time,” he murmured. Sirius’ palms pressed into his bare back. “You can just be you and that’s more than enough. If they don’t see that, it’s their problem.”

Sirius hooked their ankles together and pulled the blankets up over their shoulders with a trembling sigh. They fell asleep soon after, lulled by two hearts beating in tandem.