#lumosinlove sweater weather

[moonybeam3]

Finally made it to my first NHL game of the season and the first thing I did when I got home was open up Ao3 and start re-reading Sweater Weather for the third time

[odetothestars]

Harvard Finnlo song? Maybe perhaps?

The vibes just remind me of them when I hear it idky

(OCs by @lumosinlove ❤️)

[hecksee]

Safe With Me

Hex? Hex posted a @lumosinlove oc fic in the year of 2022? After being MIA in the fandom for like a year and a half? More likely than you think

Anyways have this Vaincre St. Tweedle. I havent read Vaincre, so uh *thumbs up*

As always thanks to Haz for the characters, thank you to @peggyrose19 for the help with my boys, and @wonder-womans-ex for being a god and the best ever.

---

The sound of the bedroom door slamming echoed through the apartment, leaving Luke staring at the hallway where Saint had stormed off to. Luke’s ears were ringing, the silence being a stark difference from the shouting that had just taken place. It was unsettling. The calm before the storm, although, Luke supposed, that wasn’t right. More like the eye of a hurricane; everything unnaturally still and unsuspecting before the intense storm resumes.

He knew that Saint wasn’t mad at him, not really. They’d gotten into fights before, big blow-up ones happened more often than not when they’d first met, with their assigned rooming together freshman year. Fights over where they’d left their textbooks, where the food was put in the fridge, where their gear was stored; anything and everything was cause for an argument. 

But this wasn’t like that. It happened occasionally, Saint got overwhelmed and lashed out. Saint didn’t come from the safest environment to be vulnerable in. In foster care, it was safer to lash out, to mask your emotions with anger and get into fights to release the tension. That was Luke’s guess at least, old habits die hard; Luke knew that himself.

read more on ao3 here

[lumosinlove]

Smitten.

[fruitcoops]

In the Beginning

Going back to my roots this year with some pre-Coops PT fluff :) This is definitely going to turn into a short series (with exceptions for Leo's birthday, of course) and I'm really excited about it! Hoping for some more time to create this spring <3 Character credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW canon injury (Sirius' ankle)

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, sure.”

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

Sirius blinked. “You?”

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

“Ah. Ouais.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Done?”

He jumped.

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

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

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

Sirius frowned. “Why would I do that?”

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

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

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

“How’s your ankle feeling today?”

Get out of your head. “It’s…fine.”

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

“A little sore?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Non.”

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

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

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

“Even with crutches?”

“Ouais.”

“Do you sleep with it on?”

“…my crutches?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hold on.”

Sirius paused.

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

“Quoi?”

“You’re…what, six-three?”

“About.”

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

What the fuck? “Uh, no?”

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

“Oh,” Sirius said helpfully.

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

Sirius shifted in his seat. “…yes.”

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

“Sorry.”

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

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

It was no use. “What was that?”

“Hmm?”

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

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

“Where?”

“Uh. My ankle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouais.”

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

“Non.”

“You sure?”

“Just—makes me nervous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can take it off.”

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

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

“I’m sweaty,” he blurted. “Sorry.”

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

Sirius wrinkled his nose. “Ugh.”

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

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

“Oh, please.”

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

“Yes, I know.”

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

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

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

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

“Sirius?”

He hummed.

“You okay?”

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

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

“The exam?”

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

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

“Are you—”

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

“Okay,” Remus said quietly.

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

“Ow.”

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

“You did great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Awesome, see you then.”

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

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

“Lucky we’ve got you then, eh?”

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

“Got you beat, there.”

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

“Très bien, Loops.”

Maybe it was the adjustments to his crutches, or the promise of something like progress on the horizon, but Sirius didn’t feel quite so awful as he made his way down the hall. He almost felt good, actually. Almost hopeful.

[sophsicle]

there's a scene in vaincre by lumosinlove, where these two characters (leo and finn) are talking about relationships they've been in where they've had to hide, and leo says something like "it wasn't his fault, he was just scared. we were all just scared." and finn says "still, there's a way to treat a person"

and this is how i know that i am deeply emotionally repressed.

because no mcd has ever made be sob as much as that line.

it's not even a particularly sad moment in that fic (like it is but it isn't)

but.

there's a way to treat a person.

we were all scared. but you didn't need to cut me open like that. you didn't need to shove me aside. you didn't need to look through me. we were all scared but you still could have been kind. surely. kinder, at least, than the things we were scared of.

there's a way to treat a person.

[moonloup]

SEE THIS IS WHY I DONT SAY ANYTHING

[anzukero]

a scene from @lumosinlove 's absolutely beautiful fic Sweater Weather that has been living rent free in my head for the past few days

never did i think i would be so invested in a hockey au but here i am

[arrowofcarnations]

Fic-O-Ween 2023 Day 1: First Frost

Happy fest, y’all! Here’s some Harvard-era FinnLo pining to ring in day one. Huge thank-yous to @lumosinlove for the Sweater Weather characters and universe and to @noots-fic-fests for organizing the fest!

Title: Love at First Fright Pairing: Finn O'Hara/Logan Tremblay Rating: G

“Trick or treat!”

Finn smiled at the ghost-witch-robot trio looking up at him and dropped three handfuls of candy into the plastic pumpkin pails they held up expectantly.

“Hey, nice costumes! Happy Halloween!”

The kids barely stood still long enough to say it back before they were taking off in the opposite direction of the frat house, eager to get back to their parents and hit up more treat stops around campus before dark. It was a good day for it; classic autumn in New England, from the crispness in the air to the red, brown and yellow leaves drifting down off the trees to cover the manicured grass in a vibrant seasonal blanket. Even the deep red of Harvard’s brick buildings seemed more beautiful in October, like they were meant to exist in a state of perpetual fall.

Throngs of local kids—and some of their parents—were all decked out in their Halloween best, while Finn and the rest of the OKN guys wore school-branded clothes while taking turns manning the candy-laden folding table outside the house between classes. (Finn wasn’t sure any of them owned a costume they could wear outside in broad daylight.) 

He laughed as Percy walked over, refill bag in hand, wearing the exact same gray sweatshirt with a crimson HARVARD across the chest as he was, the same black joggers—almost the same sneakers. “Fashion.”

Percy grinned back at him. “You know it, baby.” He turned the bag upside down, dumping the candy into any bowls that weren’t full and spilling some across the table as he went.

“Yo, you’re getting jolly ranchers all over the ground.”

“You’re a fuckin’ jolly rancher.”

“You’re a fuckin’ kit-kat.”

“You’re a—”

“Shut up, there’s kids,” Will warned, then passed some treats to a tiny ballerina with a kind smile and a compliment for her costume.

“Oh shit, my bad,” Percy said, and Finn snorted as Will cuffed him on the side of the head.

Finn unwrapped a watermelon jolly rancher and popped it into his mouth as he watched students and families pass by. Percy nudged him with an elbow, getting his attention. “Where’s Tremz? Thought you were surgically fused at this point.”

“Fu—” he cut off as Will leveled the captain stare at him. “Heck off. He’s in his medieval history class, he’ll be back soon.”

“Speak of the French-Canadian devil,” Percy shouted as Logan walked up the path to the house, backpack on his shoulders and snapback on his head—backwards, per usual. He looked good in the crimson Harvard Hockey hoodie he was wearing; Finn’s eyes caught the fraying at the cuffs and his stomach swooped as he realized it was his, that Logan must’ve swiped it this morning before heading out. 

“Bonjour,” Logan said, oblivious to the state of Finn’s internal organs.

“Bone-joor,” Percy replied before Finn could say it. “Very French of you. And shorts in October. Very Canadian of you.”

“We haven’t even had first frost yet.” Logan looked from Percy to Finn. “How much candy did you let him eat?”

“Too much,” Will answered for him. “Don’t you have class next, Marshy?”

After a complicated handshake with Finn that neared 15 seconds long, Percy grabbed his bag and took off at a slow jog. Finn wasn’t happy that he left, exactly, but he was happy that Logan walked around the table to take his spot right beside him.

“How’s that black plague treatin’ ya?” he asked as Logan slid his backpack off and under the table.

Logan’s eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Better than it’s treating medieval Europeans. But the reading is a little…”

He looked away—embarrassed, maybe, or frustrated. Finn knew he hated that English still tripped him up sometimes, though the amount he’d improved in just a few semesters was damn impressive. Finn kicked his shin lightly. “I got you. Would’ve flunked out last spring if it weren’t for you, so. Bring on the plagues.”

Logan kicked him back and sent him a grateful smile. And just because he couldn’t help it, Finn plucked at the sleeve of his hoodie. “Nice sweatshirt.”

“You left it on my chair,” Logan said, but Finn saw a little bit of color in his cheeks that he was pretty sure the afternoon chill didn’t put there.

It was a shoddy excuse, but so was Finn teasing him about it being “a little tight in the shoulders, Tremz, you gym beast” just so he could put a hand on one of those broad shoulders and squeeze. Logan was warm and so solid even through the layers; his hand lingered just a second too long before he let it fall away.

The next half hour passed quickly as trick-or-treaters came and went. The sun had just started to sink lower in the sky when a girl who couldn’t have been older than five or six walked up to the table, her guardian hanging back a ways. She had a hockey jersey on and was carrying her helmet, probably tired of wearing it around. 

She was closing in on Logan, who’d ended up on the opposite end of the long folding table as Finn at some point, when the big animatronic ghoul in front of the porch lurched and let out its tinny scream. The girl jumped, looking terrified, and tears filled her wide brown eyes.

“Oh,” Finn heard Logan say softly; his brow was knitted with concern as he walked quickly out from behind the table and crouched down in front of her. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to scare you.”

The girl didn’t say anything, just turned to look at her adult and then back at Logan. It seemed like she was trying not to run away.

Logan nodded at her jersey. “You play hockey?”

She nodded.

“Me too. All these guys are on my team. What’s your favorite position to play?”

That drew her out of her shell. “Goalie,” she said with a quiet confidence as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I see. You know what I know about goalies?” The girl shook her head, but clearly looked interested at whatever Logan was about to say. He leaned in like he was telling a secret, then said, “They’re the bravest ones. Also the craziest.”

Finn’s chest warmed at the way she laughed, at how Logan had gotten her from near-tears to happy and chatting in no time at all. He never got to see Logan with little kids; all their siblings were older. It was nice. It was sweet. It was doing things to Finn’s heart that he’d rather not think about.

In the end, the little girl—Harper, she told Logan as he filled her candy pail until it was overflowing, then filled her helmet, too—skipped away in a great mood. Logan was still smiling a little after they’d gone as Finn walked over to him.

“She was cute.”

Logan nodded. “Ouais.”

“You, too.” It was out of his mouth before he could shove it back in. Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “You were cute with her,” he explained—not that that really made it better.

But Logan looked pleased that he’d said so, even as he shrugged. “It’s not hard when they’re adorable. She said she’s a goalie.”

“Oh, so the skeleton thing should’ve been afraid of her.”

Logan laughed. “That’s kind of what I told her.”

Finn wanted to say so much. You’re cute all the time. You should only wear my hoodies. You’ll make a great dad someday. I want to share that someday with you.

Instead, he took Logan’s hat off and ruffled his hair. “Dinner?” he asked. “Burgers? Hog’s Head?”

Logan took his hat back and put it back on, but he wasn’t even pretending to be annoyed. “Ouais, let’s go now before they make us clean up.”

As they snuck off behind the house toward the pub, Finn took a handful of cherry jolly ranchers out of his pocket and put them in Logan’s. Logan laughed, then did the same for Finn with the watermelon ones. 

“Happy Halloween, Tremz.”

“Happy Halloween, Harzy.”

[binvibin]

finally time for my monthly reread of sweater weather

[moonymiel]

i’ve been obsessing over hozier’s “too sweet” and i just fell to my knees while rereading sweater weather (as one does) because:

like this is SO their song remus said it himself

[odetothestars]

So I have posted frequently about how much I adore Sweater Weather by lumosinlove and on that hockey note:

(Disclaimer: This isn’t that big of a deal at all but my hometown is so small and random that it’s cool for me)

My ONLY somewhat interesting fact is that a well known nhl captain and an assistant captain are from my teeny tiny hometown where everyone knows everyone and whenever they come home in the summer it’s like a huge deal and I think thats a cute tradition

I just love my little home + they’re lovely men who seem to really enjoy doing things for our community:) However maybe they’re just so well known to me bc of the personal connection idk

[marmarifer]

O’Knutzy Week Day Three!!

Camping Cubs ⛺️ This one was so fun to make! I hope y’all like it as much as I did!

Character credit goes to @lumosinlove and as always thanks to @oknutzyweek2023 for organizing.

[lumosinlove]

The Captain says good morning.

[fruitcoops]

You have some awesome friendship fics when Remus and Lily do manis and go shopping. Have you thought of one where Remus is there when Lily gets her wedding dress or she is there to get him fitted for his suit for his own wedding. Or the same with James/Sirius although I’m not sure how that would work with Reg.

Fic O'Ween Day 2: Candle Wax to continue the excellent friendship vibes from yesterday. Big fest thanks to @noots-fic-fests and character credit goes to @lumosinlove.

TW brief mention of alcohol

“Give it a spin.”

“…I don’t want to.”

“Then put it back.”

“What if it’s the one?”

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

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

“What if—”

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

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

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

“No,” she sighed. “Not that much.”

“Then try a different one.”

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Never mind.”

“What?”

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

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Midnight to midnight, Evans.”

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

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

--

Two hours.

Fourteen more dresses.

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

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

“I know. Jesus. That’s gotta be it.”

“Did you find that one?”

“Mhmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” they chorused.

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

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

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

--

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

“Looks damn good.”

“Ahblahablah!”

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

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

“You’ve seen it?”

“Maybe.”

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

Sirius’ laugh made Harry squeal around the fistful of t-shirt (definitely Remus’) he had shoved in his mouth. “Dude,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “You’re going to lose your mind.”

[tea-moon-ster]

Courage, dear heart

hello! have some Kasey/Alex angst set during SW. that ginger took rainbow tape out at All Stars and you can't tell me Kasey didn't have a little crisis when he saw. read it on ao3 here. all characters belong to @lumosinlove.

The night of All Stars, Kasey’s brain switched off the moment he saw Alex skate around with rainbow tape around his stick, opening a line of colorful players behind him. And it was unfortunate, because it happened right at the beginning of the night. Kasey hadn’t thought about much else for the few hours spent at Remus’ place, only offering vague comments every now and then. Natalie’s eyes finding his over the Cubs’ heads had been the one thing keeping him at bay.

Then Logan had called his boys, and that’s how they found out. The tape had been Alex’s idea.

Kasey wanted to say something, anything to him. He wrote ten texts or so on his phone, feeling stupidly self-conscious as he erased them all. Hey, Al, nice tape. Hi, loved your idea. Hey, Alex, good gesture. He sighed, wondering how did he always make everything so complicated. And why he’d never had the courage to do something similar.

And now there they were, in Dumo’s backyard, with the Lions’ team and their families surrounding them.

The Lions were going to the finals, and they felt invincible.

The air was electric even outside of the rink, following them everywhere and rising every time they met. Kasey could see it in Thomas’ grin, in the little jumps Finn made any time he was on his feet. Leo told him it was a mixture of things for him. We’re so close, and my parents are here, and I have two boyfriends, can you believe it? Because I can’t. I feel like I could climb the Everest in one morning. Kasey shared that excitement, but he had to admit that it was nowhere near to the thrill of his first seasons in the league. It tasted bitter in his mouth. Most things about hockey did, now. Leo’s sparkling eyes had brought fresh air in hockey, at least for Kasey, and he was glad for it. A little push to go on until he couldn’t.

And Alex was there.

 I wouldn’t miss it, he’d said. How ever it goes. He was standing by a bush with Timmy and Olli, and Kasey couldn’t hear their conversation, but they were laughing and shaking their heads. He never failed to make people laugh.

Kasey saw the moment Alex’s eyes spotted him, leaning against the wall. He watched him excuse himself with a warm smile and one last joke. His eyes followed him to the drinks table, and saw him grab two beers. He came to lean next to him and handed him one without a word.

Kasey took a sip as they watched the sun go down, drawing golden stripes on the surface of the pool. It was still too cold to jump in, but just standing next to it built the vibrant energy of the beginning of summer. Air of anticipation really was everywhere, these days.

Kasey stole a quick glance of Alex.

The same man standing in front of him had convinced half the players at All Stars to wear rainbow tape relying on sheer force of initiative, and a great deal of courage. Even if Kasey had been surprised to see it, he realized, looking back, that there really was no reason for it. Everything about Alex translated into actions, and watching him skate around and wave his hand at the fans with pride tape, he couldn’t see a difference between him and the boy he’d fallen in love with. The boy he’d shared playful glances in the locker room with, that made him laugh loud and messy, with the little snort, and that took him for long walks on the beach every time he played in Florida. Seeing colorful stripes on his stick had moved Kasey more than he cared to admit. What does it mean, and were you thinking of me?

Of course, Natalie had noticed, too. Natalie noticed everything and she was good at not making a big deal out of things. Kasey loved how she’d immediately understood whatever was going on between him and Alex, and how she’d kissed him gently after. It’s okay if you have love for both of us. Gentler than he could ever be with himself.

That night, they’d shared a surprised look as everyone commented the tape and the players, and he’d seen her gaze going from him to Alex-in-the-TV as she tried to figure it out with him. Was it a message? Or simple support? They’d held hands in silent reassurance, wondering what it all meant.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence—Alex was good at those, too- Kasey cleared his throat. He stole a glimpse of the redhead’s golden profile against the setting sun, serene and warm.

“Sick tape,” he blurted out. “At All Stars. Logan said it was your idea.”

Alex’s eyes darted on him, as if looking for something. But it was just for a moment. Then the usual lively grin crept in, for him to relax into.

“Yeah. I thought your captain could use some support, you know?”

Kasey turned to glance at Sirius, standing on the other side of the garden, smiling at something Adele was telling him. Remus was there, holding hands in a newfound sweetness that was delightful to see. Kasey swore it had all seemed impossible until it happened.

“He really did,” he nodded. “I’m glad he had it. It meant a lot.” Kasey stopped before adding to Cap, because they both knew that it wasn’t just that. It meant a lot to me.

Alex nodded, maybe not sure on how to answer. He looked around, and his smile softened when he found the Cubs over the snacks table. Finn had an arm around Leo’s waist, talking a mile a minute, while the other two were looking at him smitten happy. Kasey studied the redhead in front of him as he looked fondly at them.

“And, you know, it wasn’t just for Sirius. For Finn, too. And his boys.” He shook his head, smiling. “You know, Finn called me the morning of All Stars, all excited, saying Alex, big ass news, I’m so happy I’m gonna die, and told me everything.” He took a sip of his beer, eyes returning to Kasey with a raised eyebrow. “Well. I already knew something was up between him and Logan, like, ages ago. I was waiting for him to tell me. And he did, so I felt like I needed to show him that it was okay. On and off the ice.”

Kasey thought back at All Stars night, when eight people had crumpled into Loop’s living room. How Finn had shouted That’s my big brother, and the way his eyes were shining in front of the tv. Kasey had allowed himself to linger on those eyes for a few moments, while everyone else focused on the screen, thinking about the twin pair that Alex bore. He remembered their warmth on his skin, shining like a jewel in the sun. Kasey thought about those eyes a lot.

Bring your eyes on me and I’ll wear your stares like the most precious stones, an old song played in his mind. He didn’t remember the name.

Alex bit his lip, sobering, and those wonderful eyes moved to his shoes. His voice came out lower this time, a vulnerability that people didn’t get to see often.

“And—you know. I had to do it for myself, too.”

Kasey felt a wave of heat rushing to his head, his heartbeat growing faster. He tightened his grip around the beer, only for the icy glass to send shivers down his spine. But Alex looked calm—like he always did.

“I just thought, what’s the point, you know? ‘S not my problem if someone cares.”

He paused for a moment, and everyone else would have thought that he was waiting for a reply from Kasey. But Kasey knew he didn’t. Alex never expected anything from him. And in that moment, Kasey was glad, because he felt petrified.

Alex sent him a small, reassuring smile. Why was he reassuring him and not the opposite, Kasey wasn’t sure.

“I’m not gonna do a big coming out. I’ll just…stop hiding, I guess.”

Then he looked up, and snorted, shaking his head as he’d just told the most amusing joke. He took another sip. Kasey could see his ears blushing as he ripped off a corner of the beer’s label.

“I mean, nothing’s really gonna change, and there’s nothing to hide. But still.”

He said the last words with his usual calm, nonchalant serenity. He threw Kasey a helpless smile, and then returned to watching the people around them as if the conversation had never taken place.

That was what Kasey had never understood. What he’d never comprehended, what he could never do.

How Alex could appear, bright and warm and wonderful, throw a few smiles and jokes around, be what people needed him to be, and then drop bombs like that. Nothing’s really gonna change. There’s nothing to hide. And then he returned to normal, like his own words, his feelings, didn’t matter more than chitchats about the weather.

Kasey just looked at him.

Nothing’s really gonna change.

Alex had never been one for holding back. He’d never been afraid of what he felt, and at the same time he’d never expected anything in return. He just felt, and loved, in his warm and easy way, without taking or holding anything against him.

Kasey was the reason nothing would change. He knew it in his heart.

He knew it every time someone tried to ask Alex about eventual partners, or dates, hookups even, and he just shrugged and smiled. Nothing significant. Not really my thing.

He knew it every time they met or talked on the phone, and Alex inevitably asked about Natalie, but then he’d stay quiet for a bit.

Alex hurt quietly, and Kasey knew, and hurt even more quietly, and none of them would do anything about it.

Alex loved Kasey. He wouldn’t need to come out if it wasn’t Kasey at his side, simply because he didn’t want another man. So, nothing would really change. And the redhead looked like he didn’t mind.

Kasey could swear he was going to go crazy.

Did he know Kasey loved him back? They’d never spoken about it enough for the goalie to understand it, let alone about Nat’s feelings, or their deep conversations about love and guilt and pain the middle of the night. Did he know they watched all his games, traced his helmet on the screen with their fingers? That they whispered his name, like a secret just for the two of them?

Kasey just looked at him, even if it hurt to stare at a soul that didn’t know how to love without hurting. Or how much love and sleepless nights bore his name.

After a moment of silence too long, Alex must have felt Kasey’s stare on him, because he turned, and his smile softened.

“Oh, Kase, don’t look at me like that. I’m fine, really. I just meant…there’s nothing to notice, you know? But it’s fine.”

Kasey looked at him with pleading eyes, even if he didn’t really know what he needed from him. To stop talking, to stop caring, to stop being so nice about it.

Alex sighed, rolling his eyes back, his expression dropping for a second. He took a breath before wearing his smile again.

“Listen, let’s forget it. I just wanna have a good time with my friend, alright? Haven’t hung out in forever, you and I,” he said, nudging their shoulders together. He paused for a second, before taking another sip. “Hey, what are you doing at the end of the month? You know, after you and your team get your hands on that shiny thing.”

Kasey hurriedly looked around for some wood to knock on, but had to settle for the wooden piles under their feet, forming a path to the pool. He gently tapped one with his shoe a few times, ignoring Alex’s disbelieving scoff, and shrugged.

“Dunno,” he said, a small smile returning to his face. “Nothing planned yet.”

Alex grinned. “Well, in that case,” and Kasey rolled his eyes at the old joke, “I have the house at the Hamptons to myself for, huh, a long time. If you wanna come, with Nat of course, I’d be happy to have you two.”

Kasey looked in the crowd by the pool for Natalie, and found her with her feet in the water, talking to Katie as the she moved her tiny feet energetically, sending splashes all around them. The grip in his throat loosened a bit. He nodded.

“I’ll ask her, but you already know the answer.”

“Great,” Alex grinned, leaving a pat on his shoulder. “I’m gonna go grab another beer, want one?”

Try four or five. “I’m good, thanks.”

He returned the smile as Alex walked away, taking away with him a bit of the warmth in Kasey’s body. He let out a sigh, gulping down too much beer at once, and then looked around for a bit. There was something in spring nights that always made tears burn more as they sat stubbornly still at the corner of his eyes.

He glanced at Natalie again, and realized she’d been looking at him for a while, a frown worrying her brows. He bit the inside of his cheek, maintaining eye contact. He didn’t feel like shaking his head and scrolling it off. He didn’t have it in him, not that night. Not after that conversation. And in all honesty, he was tired of dismissing pain like nothing could scrap him.

So, he just shrugged helplessly and made a discrete hand gesture that meant later. She nodded, not fully convinced. Love you, she mouthed. He mouthed it back, and she finally focused on Katie again when he sent her a little smile—more like an imperceptible raise of a corner of the mouth, but she knew him.

He then glanced at the Cubs, still by the snacks table, where Finn was trying to make Logan dance to the rhythm of a low background song. Tremzy looked like he was protesting, but he let the redhead move them, nevertheless. Leo, leaned on the table, was filming them with a smile of his own.

They looked so happy, Kasey thought, glancing back at Natalie, and then searching for Alex, now chatting with Noelle and Thomas.

Kasey looked at the Cubs again, and then at his girlfriend, and then at the man he loved, and decided there was something he could do. Or at least try. He’d talk to Natalie that night, in the quiet comfort of their bedroom. They would figure something out.

Something could change.

.

.

.