#sweater weather au

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Part I

"Are you free Thursday evening?" Akai's facing away from him, getting out of the car in a hurry. Rei's picked him up from his flat this morning (his mustang broke down, apparently), which is how they're both running late now. It's a good thing the meeting can't start without them.

In any case, Rei isn't - things have been busy in the aftermath of the takedown of the organisation, as Akai should be well aware. He did, after all, just return from a three-month vacation to FBI headquarters in Washington. The official cover story, as far as Rei knows, is Okiya going to the US to continue his PhD, while the authorities prepared to reintroduce the reborn Akai Shuichi to the world. Now he's back for good, officially appointed as the FBI's liaison to the PSB.

While he didn't share what he was up to while he was waiting to be processed, Rei has a pretty good guess - the higher-ups have been expecting all sorts of reports from him, after all, and surely Akai is just as vital a source, involved as they both were. The thought of him doing paperwork is amusing, and strangely domestic in its mundanity. (He'd love to see it.)

So, he'll figure something out. Several people owe him favours, and he has five years of vacation to catch up on. This is the first time Akai is reaching out for a meeting outside of work (not that Rei kept track or anything), and he's not about to let that chance slip through his fingers.

"I'll make it work. What for?" Agreeing without even knowing what he agreed to, he really is pathetic. And yet. He trusts the other won't waste his time or ask for the impossible.

"Dinner at the Myosotis. Seven p.m."

Rei blinks. That rings a bell. Western style fine dining, prohibitively expensive. Waiting lists of half a year, at least. Back then, they were just barely collaborating, surely Akai didn't plan this far ahead? How, then, did he get a table, and why is he inviting Rei to go there? That's the kind of place people go to for romantic marriage proposals; not the sort of restaurant the two of them would frequent, if they do eat out.

"I've already said yes, but... that's quite high-class, isn't it?" Not that he minds - being Bourbon taught him how to frequent places like that. It's just that Akai has never given any sort of indication he might like that kind of place. Huh.

(And really, if he's being honest, any place would be fine as long as it's with Akai. They have a couple of months to catch up on, after all.)

The smile Akai gives him in response is...odd. Small and genuine, private in the way that he's only ever seen Shuichi look at a select few people. Akemi. His siblings. Shinichi. But it doesn't reach his eyes, this time; instead, they're narrowed, burning with something like dread. Rei can't quite make sense of the expression.

"I think the occasion warrants it", is all Akai says before he slams the car door shut, turning his back to Rei. And that's the end of that conversation.

Alright then. Weird.

.

After that, Rei can't shake the feeling that Akai avoids him outside of work. Takes his smoke breaks alone, leaves immediately after they're done.

In situations like these Rei wishes he could talk to Hiro. It's a best friend's duty to help figure out if he's making something out of nothing, right? Maybe Akai really is just busy. And maybe he truly is in the mood for a celebratory dinner; after all, they haven't really had time to spend together since they came out of hiding, ripped apart by work and duty. They've talked, of course, but now that he's back it seems like the circumstances have calmed down enough to consider such a thing. (Even though a nagging thought tells him the official celebratory gala will be held in two weeks, and he knows Akai isn't looking forward to it.)

The thing is, that doesn't warrant it the look Akai gave him. That look was charged, it meant something. Through the years, Akai has looked at him a great many different ways. Rye mostly cold and disinterested at first, then with that faintly concealed amusement that still drives him up the walls. Okiya usually observed him with curiosity and caution. And Akai? A variety of expressions. Laughter and pain and gratitude. That bone-deep weariness that seems to cling to him like his shadow. Just once, with surprise. But rarely, if ever, as scared as he'd looked when he'd asked him out.

What was he afraid of? It's not like Rei was going to decline dinner, even if he's a little insulted it's western food. (Then again, he's quite proud of his prowess regarding traditional Japanese cuisine, so really, that would've been a worse choice.) Akai might just crave nostalgic food.

This is the third time this week he's reached this point in the argument with himself, and it really doesn't feel like he's getting any closer to the truth.

In the years he's known him, Akai has never shown to be the type to celebrate. Not that the organisation left much room to celebrate. As Okiya, Rei never got close enough to figure out his preferences. And as for Akai...well, he seemed happy enough, if exhausted, coming back from his sister's birthday party, and that's really the only indication Rei has. Maybe he doesn't know Akai as well as he thought. The idea stings.

Still, it makes no sense. If he wanted to celebrate, the takedown was a team effort, and Rei knows agents Starling and Black are in the country. He's checked their schedules, but neither they nor Kazami are free next week, at that certain hour. (Alright, well, in Kazami's case it might be Rei's fault he's busy, but he needs someone capable to cover for him.)

The Kudos, arguably the masterminds behind the operation, have left for a vacation to the Swiss alps, too. Allegedly, they've taken Shinichi with them to recover in mountain air - privately, Rei has heard through the grapevine that talking things out with Ran didn't go so well. She's asked for some time to think about their relationship, so Shinichi is off bringing crime to Swiss ski resorts for a change.

None of the usual suspects are free, or invited. It seems it's really just the two of them.

He doesn't want to, can't afford to indulge the foolish hope that Akai might've missed him as much as Rei did (his dry wit, his dependability, the scent of his cigarettes and aftershave in their sheets). They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but is it enough for such a shift to occur with Akai?

Their work did keep them too busy to do anything but exchange short texts or calls every once in a while. That little had been a must, for Rei; while officially the organisation might be gone, some stragglers have yet to be found. Thus, he's been checking up on Akai, just to make sure he's still alright out there. (He wants to touch him and hold him and hear his heartbeat, wants to make sure he's alive. Wants too many things he can't have, as usual.)

Rei has promised himself he'll never act on these feelings; can't destroy this careful balance they have managed to attain. But if Akai's the one reaching out, who is Rei to decline? If after all they've gone through Akai still wants to stay by his side, Rei doesn't have the strength to push him away for his own good.

Throughout their relationship, it's always been Rei asking to meet him to exchange sweaters and information. For Akai to take this step now, and in such a grandiose manner, leaves him reeling, uncertain of the other's intentions. Among the living, he's probably the one who knows the sniper best, and yet he just can't figure out what this means. The uncertainty is maddening.

Damnit, really, what is he supposed to think about Akai inviting him to a high-class dinner? Just the two of them?

.

Hiro hasn't contacted him either, since that time in the Kudo mansion. He'd assured Rei he was safe, doing alright. Sorry for not being able to meet. And that was that.

(In a moment of weakness, Rei's asked Akai for his number. But Akai had revealed he'd only gotten the contact info for a burner phone, worthless after that one use.)

He's missed Hiro before, when he wasn't sure whether he was alive or dead, but somehow, knowing he is out there and not being able to reach him is worse. Hiro was supposed to have his back, and now he can't even help him out with his uncertain thoughts and feelings regarding one Akai Shuichi. Traitor.

.

Rei's fretting for hours about his look for dinner. (When was he last out on a date that actually mattered?)

It's not like he's lacking in confidence. He knows he cleans up nicely, and working with Vermouth for years has left him fashion-conscious. He's perfectly aware of how to dress up appropriately for a venue like the Myosotis. Honestly, he's more concerned (and quite frankly, intrigued) how Akai will fare.

Still, he wonders if the red tie is perhaps a bit too much. He's added it on a whim, for a splash of colour, but now he's considering whether it's too bold, wearing Akai's namesake openly. He's probably overthinking it. It's not like Akai to pick up on such clues.

He's triple-checked, by this point, his nails and hair and teeth. His suit is crisply ironed. It's perfect. What could possibly go wrong?

.

Rei finds himself at the restaurant a quarter hour early. A waiter shows him to the lovely window seats Akai has reserved for them, looking out over the city's lights. It's beautiful. The place is pleasantly quiet, a separée creating an ambience of privacy. Bathing the space in warm light is a cream candle, placed on a perfectly ironed tablecloth. After a couple of moments, the waiter returns with a bottle of quality champagne, chilled for their convenience.

Myosotis couldn't be more stereotypically romantic if it tried, and Rei finds his face burning as hot as the flame in front of him. It's a good thing he's a little early; he'll need time to steady himself to face Akai. Maybe have a glass of cool champagne to calm his nerves.

Rei runs one last check, refreshes his cologne on neck and wrist, and waits.

.

A couple minutes go by, during which he tries several different grounding techniques, to limited effect. He still perks up when, from the corner of his eyes, he spots Okiya's pastel pink hair - though it is in confusion, the excitement dying down quickly, replaced with fury. The posture of the man is incredibly familiar.

Conscious of where they are, and what is appropriate, Rei gets up from their table to greet him.

"You've kept me waiting long enough."

And with the brightest possible smile he can muster, he slaps his best friend across the face, hard.

.

"Yeah, I guess I deserve that." At least it's his own voice. Hiro's awkward smile looks off on Okiya's pretty face, and Rei has to fight the urge to throw his arms around his neck. Whether to hug him or strangle him, he doesn't quite know, himself.

"You..." 'deserve much worse than that. Deserve much better than that. Are an asshole and an idiot and it's so good to see you-'

People are noticing the commotion. Bourbon's reflexes kick in, uncomfortable with the attention. He finds himself closing the distance and hissing at Hiro.

"Take a seat before we cause even more of a scene."

Hiro-as-Okiya follows him into the separée. A waiter comes by, pouring him a glass of champagne too. The mood is as frosty as their drinks.

Hiro makes no move to continue the conversation. Great.

"...would you care to explain", Rei asks through his best Amuro smile, "what exactly you are doing here?" He considers adding 'and why you are dressed as Akai's ridiculous cover', but figures that one's self-evident.

"I wanted to see you, so Akai helped me out. The paperwork is taking its sweet time." He says it nonchalantly, as if it is that simple. As if he hasn't been MIA for half a year, and presumed KIA for years before that.

He's willing to bet this meeting was Akai's bright idea. Rei's all too familiar with his idea of 'help'. Doing what he thinks is best in the shadows, without talking to the person he's allegedly helping out.

It sucks, because he knows the FBI agent meant well. He probably thought this was a pleasant surprise. (And it is, just a little.)

It just very much does not help that Rei had quite different expectations of how this evening would go. He was expecting something much nicer than spontaneously having to decide whether he should make use of Hiro's shellfish allergy and poison him right then and there. (The answer is no, will always be no, who is he even kidding.)

Hiro's blue eyes stare at him from across the table, illuminated in warm candlelight. They clash horribly with the pink hair. It makes Rei nauseous. He looks down at the table.

He manages a strangled "I would have appreciated a heads-up." For this situation in particular and the fact that Hiro's alive, in general.

"Did he not tell you?"

"No. And it's not like I expected anything of the sort from him." 'You, however, should have known better.'

"Look, Zero-" Rei's withering glare makes him falter for a second, but he presses on. "I couldn't let you know. It was too dangerous at the time, for myself and Rye. And you."

Oh, great. Another person looking out for his supposed well-being. Except, it really only was about the success of their mission, wasn't it? As if that was ever worth his best friend's life.

He clenches his fist under the table, tries to calm himself. Fails. "I get that. I really, truly do." He rises, slams his hands on the table, leans across. Stares at the farce that is Okiya, just a lie this time.

"But it's been three years, Hiro." Then, quietly: "I thought you were dead."

Countless nights spent visiting morgues, checking if all bodies matching Hiro's stature were accounted for. Checking international flights. Investigating the ruins of the exploded building, in hopes of finding evidence of tampering. Looking over the remains of the body, burnt and crushed, with only the totality of the destruction hinting at foul play. Years and years of hounding Akai, trying to get answers from the one person who had to know, only to not make it in time. That terrible night Gin had sent him a gift, Akai falling lifelessly back into the video's frame, joining Scotch in a violent end; his last lead going up in flames and smoke. Mourning Matsuda and Date, alone.

He fights down the bile rising in his throat with practiced ease. His eyes sting and burn, but he won't be embarrassed now by giving in.

To his credit, Hiro has backed off as far as he can, shrinking under Rei's glare. Familiar blue eyes lock with his, and Rei needs to focus on them because everything else about the Okiya getup gives him whiplash he doesn't know how to deal with. Hiro takes a breath, steadies himself.

"Zero." A warm hand is gently laid atop his own. So familiar, so comforting, even after years apart. Rei wants to run, or fight, or both, but finds himself anchored in place.

"I'm sorry. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, as many times as you need me to."

As if any number of apologies could erase years and years of grief and guilt and loneliness. If he'd just been faster, if Hiro had just trusted him, they would've found a solution, it was never worth his life-

"...why didn't you come to me, Hiro?" Idiot.

Because after months and years to contemplate it, that's the root of the problem, isn't it? The start of the betrayal. The broken promise from their academy days, splintering even further. 'We can handle anything, as long as we're together.' And then fate had ripped them apart, one by one, counting down to zero. Except Hiro had had a choice.

"I'm sorry. I did what I thought was necessary." He wears his emotions on his face.

And for a split-second, Rei doesn't see Hiro. He sees Akai, a week ago; his small smile, his pained eyes. Denial and self-sacrifice. Just what in the world made Akai look at him like that?

It's disorienting enough that he finds his spiralling thoughts interrupted, blinking at Hiro. He backs off, sits back down.

"Promise me, now, that you'll never run off like that again." Please, he can't say, but tries to convey through squeezing Hiro's hand just slightly too hard, before he pulls back in time for the waiter coming in with their entrées.

"I'll try."

Rei glares at him. Not good enough.

"Okay, okay, I won't." Hiro laughs, and oh, how Rei has missed the sound. Some of the tension bleeds out of him, and he finds himself joining his best friend, helplessly.

This isn't over, the pain isn't gone. It's unlikely it ever will, and there surely will be more arguments in the future (and sparring. He really wants to knock some more sense into Hiro). The trust they're missing will be hard to rebuild.

But Rei has had no choice but to live without Hiro for three years now. Has missed him painfully, every single day. If he's going to live in pain either way, might as well have it caused by Hiro's continued presence by his side.

If he gets a second chance at life then Hiro deserves one, too.

...................................................................................

Part II

Dinner after that is slow, but pleasant.

Akai has apparently pre-ordered roasts that need several days to be prepared for them, and while the quality is good, the style of food just isn't Rei's favourite. Hiro seems pretty delighted by it though, so that's something at least.

They leave charged topics carefully untouched. Since Hiro isn't on active duty, Rei can't really talk about his PSB work, and Hiro isn't at liberty to talk about his cover either. So small talk it is. Rei shows Hiro pictures of Haro, and he's immediately taken (as he should).

By the time they've made it past the main dish, they're running out of idle chitchat. Hiro's bracing himself, seems to be working up the courage to ask something. Rei can already tell he won't like the upcoming conversation.

"So, Zero." He folds his hands together, and leans on the table, looking inquisitively. "Do you mind explaining what's going on between you and Akai?"

"Nothing." The answer comes too quick and too pressed, he's not fooling anyone. And that's without accounting for the fact that Hiro knows him too well, even after three years apart. He smiles, faintly.

"Of course. Nice cologne, by the way. I'm sure Hagiwara would approve of the selection." He taps the fingers of the hand he's wrapped around Rei's wrist earlier on the wooden table. Rei feels embarrassment well up. Hiro, as usual, is annoyingly perceptive. Still, cologne is not too out of the ordinary. He tries to cover his choice up with professionalism, and even almost believes himself.

"Yes. It's only proper for an establishment such as this one."

"Yes, yes." Hiro concedes, too easily. His eyes narrow, aiming for the kill. "And I guess red just happens to be your new favourite colour?" The crimson tie around his neck feels too much like a noose, suddenly, restricting his airflow. It's probably the damn candle's fault too, burning all their oxygen. He flushes, despite his best efforts.

"Not my favourite, but it felt appropriate for a celebration", he gets out. It really doesn't help that Hiro is wearing Akai's second skin, the one he's too comfortable seeing. Though the eyes are different, he has trouble shaking the reminder of certain evenings in the Kudo manor. Drinking their sorrows away, just the two of them.

"And you were going to celebrate with a romantic candlelight dinner?" Hiro's arched eyebrow could reach space.

"Trust me, that is as strange to me as it must be to you."

"Oh no, it isn't - I've seen the look he gets when you text him."

And Rei hates himself, hates his traitorous body that perks up at those words, hates the burning curiosity. Wants Hiro to explain, wants it to be true. Hates that Hiro knows how to play him, still, judging by that infuriatingly kind smile. Hiro is so lucky they're in public. He'd very much like to wipe it from his face.

Rei wonders, briefly, if that's why Akai selected the location, and didn't tell him the truth - if he'd asked, Rei's not sure he would have agreed to meet Hiro, the betrayal still too painful in his mind. Not that this kind of secrecy is appreciated. He really thought they were past that, by now. He'll need to deal with Akai, properly, later.

"Do I look like I care about what the FBI idiot is up to?"

He knows a tactical misstep when he sees it, and he's walked right into this one.

"To be quite honest with you: yes." Hiro hides his smile behind his glass of champagne. Badly. His eyes shine with amusement.

Damnit. What's the point of pretending when Hiro just sees right through him anyways? Rei's so tired of fighting himself at every step.

"Alright, fine. Make yourself useful, then. What did he look like?"

"He lit up like his phone's screen whenever a new text arrived." That, at least, is soothing. There had been quite a few texts. He'd assumed, after all, that he was keeping a bored and lonely Akai company. Just how long has Hiro been with him? Did Akai just ignored his best friend during their flight in favour of chatting with Rei? Asshole.

"If I dare say so, it was quite cute."

Rei doesn't bother to dignify that with a response. His burning cheeks probably provide more of an answer than he would like to give, anyways.

"Alright, I won't push you if you don't want to talk about it. Just know that I'll have an open ear for you, if you change your mind." He slips a card with a handwritten phone number in it. It's not much, but it's better than nothing. Rei memorizes it, then burns the paper.

"By the way." Hiro seems a little concerned, fiddling with his glass. "Akai gave me a couple of odd looks while we were flying back. Any idea what that's about? He went out of his way to sneak me into the country, and we had some good talks, so I struggle to see why he's upset with me?"

At this point, the waiter brings in their dessert.

A medium-sized chocolate cake, heart-shaped. A fork is delicately placed on either side.

Hiro shrugs in response to his questioning look. Amuro's customer service smile slips on easily enough. "I'm sorry? I think you've mistaken the dessert for this table."

"Ah, no, gentlemen. All dishes have been prepared according to the requests of the person making the reservation." How odd.

They thank the waiter, wait until he's out of earshot.

Disjointed information is snapping into place.

"Hiro, you've seen more of him recently. Please tell me this is Akai's idea of a joke."

Because the man has a keen sense of humour, even if it's often only for his own amusement. Gods know as Bourbon Rei wanted to strangle him for his quiet mockery.

But surely he can't be implying what Rei thinks he's implying.

"Hm." Hiro pauses for a minute, bless him, actually contemplating the issue while taking an appreciative bite from the chocolate cake. Which they will not be sharing, like that. Rei cuts it in half with his fork, dragging one half towards his side of the plate.

"I don't think so, no. It's hard to tell with him." 'No, it's not', Rei wants to say, 'you can tell by the barely visible laughter lines around his eyes.' He wisely keeps his mouth shut. It wouldn't help his case about how little is going on between him and Akai.

"But I'm inclined to say he was painfully sincere. It was his idea to arrange this dinner, and before he dropped me off, he wished me good luck. I assumed, at the time, that he was concerned about me walking back out alive without my head bitten off. Now, I think he might have somehow gotten the wrong idea about us."

Rei shoves a piece of chocolate cake into his mouth. The icing melts pleasantly on his tongue.

Akai set him up on a date with his best friend.

The FBI agent can be so smart when he needs to. How is he so hopeless whenever interpersonal relationships are involved?

"Idiot."

That's going to be a fun talk.

.

Sweater weather AU masterpost

[awanderingdeal]

Anyway, I haven't written anything in forever but i'm constantly thinking about my coffee shop au and I'm just on the bus and dreamed up this cute little scene.

"That's crazy," Logan hummed, hoping the response was appropriate. The rich caramelly notes wafting from in front of him had been distracting him for quite a while.

They weren't iced yet - Leo said they needed to cool a little longer - but maybe he could try one.

"Hands off, 24601," Leo admonished, slapping away Logan's hand before he could wrap his fingers around the cinnamon roll.

"That hurt!" Logan whined, rubbing at his hand. "Quick reflexes dude."

"Almost a NHL goalie, remember," Leo shrugged, sliding a plate across the island. Logan saw the little furrow in Leo's brow despite the nochelence. "Here, let me ice them and then you can give me your honest opinion."

"So, does that make you Javert," Logan said. Leo looked up from his piping bag. "You know...24601?"

"Ohhh," Leo laughed. "Not just a pretty face."

Logan felt his cheeks warm. He cleared his throat. "Finn had a Les Mis phase. Watched it at least 100 in Sophomore year. Even dragged me to see a live performance that summer."

"Yeah, and you didn't enjoy that at all?"

"Not one bit," Logan snorted a laugh. The memory of tracking his fingers through Finn's hair as he sobbed every. single. time. would be ingrained in Logan's brain forever, but he didn't need to tell Leo that. Logan gave a small grateful smile as Leo set a freshly iced cinnamon roll on the plate, gesturing for him to try. He wasted no time obliging. "This though, this is sublime," he said.

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

June part v

You and me Sunday driving

Not arriving, on our way back home

~

Finn couldn’t remember the last time it had been just him and Logan for more than a couple hours.

Leo had seemed content if not exhausted when he’d let them drive him to the airport to meet his parents. The fact that he had only packed his weekend bag made something settle in Finn. He still felt guilty about the way he had reacted. He was better than that now. He knew he was.

While they were saying goodbye in departures, Logan and Leo wrapped up in each other, Eloise had pulled Finn aside.

“Finn, honey,” she’d said. “We’ll take good care of him. He’ll be back to you in no time at all.”

Finn had smiled. “Don’t I know it.”

Eloise had just put a hand on his cheek. Those blue eyes saw right through him, just like her son’s. “I know my Leo. I know him better than anything or anyone in this world. And I know Logan’s going to be busy, but you give him a week at home with me, you let me take care of him, and then I swear, on my most secret sauce, he’s going to want you.”

Finn hadn’t known just what to say.

Finn opened his eyes in Logan’s New York bedroom. His realized that his head didn’t hurt. His shoulder ached a little but with none of the sharpness. Usually when he woke up he had to clear all the pain away with gentle blinks, water, and small rolls of his shoulder and neck.

Finn had taken Logan out to dinner last night and watched him laugh at his jokes and sip red wine. There was just something about Logan with a delicate wine glass in his hand. They’d curled up in bed and they had talked until they were too tired for complete sentences.He felt clear.

He felt good.

It only got better when he turned his head to look at the source of the soft, even breathing beside him.

Logan was beautiful in sleep. He always had been. His head, as usual, had migrated off of his own pillow and onto Finn’s good arm. Finn slept with two barnacles, and maybe sometimes he woke up sweating, way overheated, but he wouldn’t move them for the world. Careful not to shift his arm too much, Finn turned on his side and settled a hand over the dip of Logan’s waist. He was at the height of his strength right now, the season had done all of its work on him. Finn drew a thumb along the cut of muscles that slanted down from his hip bone, disappearing below his pajama pants.

Almost immediately, Logan stirred, thick eyelashes moving as he began to wake up.

“You know what I remember?” Finn whispered.

“Mm,” Logan said, still half-asleep. He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.

“Every morning when I would wake up early for my run. You know, back at school. I would keep my eyes closed for a second. Because some of my mornings were good, but some of them were great.” He reached out for a perfect curl of Logan’s hair and gently pinched the end of it between his fingers. “Guess what the difference was?”

Logan turned his face so that his mouth brushed Finn’s skin. Eyes still closed. Face still the picture of peace.

“I’d look over across the room at your bed. Sometimes you’d have your back towards me…Those were good mornings, don’t get me wrong. You have a very nice back.”

A small smile overtook Logan’s face, even though he was still lulled with closed eyes—Finn knew his voice did that to him.

“But sometimes,” Finn said quietly. “You would be facing me. And I’d get to just lay there and look at you for as long as I wanted. Sleepyhead.”

Logan inhaled slowly and opened his eyes.

Green.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Finn whispered. “It’s you and me today.”

Logan shuffled closer to him, freeing Finn’s arm as his head shifted to his chest. Finn curled his arm low on Logan’s back, dipping his fingers below the band of his pajama pants—Leo’s. They had pooled around his feet as he walked around the apartment last night.

“Take you on a date,” Logan said, voice deeper from sleep—Finn didn’t know why that happened but he hoped it never stopped. “Show you the city.”

Finn laughed. “You show me New York City.”

“Ouais.”

“Hm.” He traced a finger down Logan’s spine and felt him move into the touch. “Whatever you say.”

“I know it better now. Than you.”

Finn smacked him on his hip. Logan just smiled and pushed his face into Finn’s neck. He said something unintelligible in French.

“Par-don?”

Logan pulled back to look at him. “I say I love you in my bed.”

“Oh. Well, I fucking adore you, you know, wherever.”

Logan pressed a kiss to Finn’s mouth and then nestled back down against his chest, close to the thump of his heart.

Finn smiled.

“Are you smiling?” Logan asked from his nook.

“Yeah.”

“What?”

Finn didn’t answer right away. He slid his fingers through Logan’s hair. “Because I got you.”

Logan looked up at him, his chin propped on Finn’s chest.

“Nice not having the sling in the way,” Finn said, rubbing his thumb over the high of Logan’s cheek. “What’s that look you’re giving me?”

Logan just kept looking at him.

“What?” Finn laughed. “Hold still.” He brought his thumb up to ever so gently touch Logan’s eyelashes. When he pulled it away, there was a single, dark lash on the pad. “Make a wish.”

Logan looked down at the eyelash, then reached out and took it from him. With it balanced carefully on his own fingertip, he let it fall against Finn’s own cheek, a small, dark line among all the freckles.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Finn said, but his heart had picked up.

“Ouais.” Logan pushed forward, settling his weight on Finn’s chest but keeping it off his shoulder, and kissed him again. “Good morning, Rouge.”

“Morning.”

Logan pushed forward more to kiss Finn again, hand appearing from beneath the warm comforter to tangle in Finn’s hair. “Stay here for now.”

“Hm?”

“We stay here for a little longer.”

“Good,” Finn said, following it with a playful bite to Logan’s lower lip.

Logan made a slightly disgruntled sound. “My back hurts a little.”

Finn frowned. “Oh?”

“Not bad, but can you…” Logan gave Finn’s foot a little kick and Finn laughed.

“Yes, sir.” Finn reached down to dig his fingers into the hard muscle of Logan’s lower back. Logan groaned and dropped his forehead down against Finn’s chest. Finn smiled. “There?”

“How did you know? Fuck, that hurts—non, non, it’s good, keep, keep…”

“I know everything about you,” Finn whispered—his best attempt at creepy. Logan just went limp against his chest and let him ease the tight knot. “Jesus, Lo. Put some heat on that.”

“Ouais,” Logan said. He lifted his head again. “You do know everything about me, don’t you.”

Finn smiled. “Yeah. Now, what else can I do?”

Logan’s eyes brightened up a little. “I want to kiss you.”

“Oh, you’re looking for a little make out sesh?”

Logan wrinkled his nose. “Sesh.”

“Little college action.”

“Action?”

“As though we were in our old dorm,” Finn said, giving the mattress a thump with his good hand. “This bed’s bigger than that one.”

“Hm,” Logan laughed softly, looking over at the spare mattress. “Leo.”

“He’ll be home soon.”

Logan nodded. “Imagine how much time we would have spent just…in one of our beds. Back then.”

“Maybe we would have pushed the two of them together,” Finn said.

They could have. It sent a little thrill up Finn’s spine just thinking about it. Anyone who would have walked in their room would have known they were each others.

Finn tucked a curl behind Logan’s ear. “And we’re just all settled in. There’s no practice tomorrow…First day of summer. No homework.”

Logan rolled his eyes but he was grinning. “Percy’s gonna knock on our door and ask if we want to go to the bars, and we’re gonna ignore him…” He dragged his lips over Finn’s jaw to find his mouth again. “Because you’re such a good kisser. And I can’t stop.”

“Huh.” Finn’s hand smoothed over Logan’s hip, pushing the elastic band down closer to the swell of his ass. Smooth, tan skin.

“I never want to stop,” Logan said. “And Perc finally leaves us alone, and we get food delivered and we watch that show you love—what…I don’t know but we’re not watching anyway because I can’t stop kissing you…” His kisses were hard and relentless and Finn was on fire. The most perfect burn, whiskey-like. “You’ve been mine since the first day.”

Finn felt his brows draw together as he kissed Logan. He loved him talking like this. Everything in him loved it.

“I didn’t really expect you to play along,” Finn said.

“Not playing,” Logan said. “This is our life now.”

“Oh,” Finn whispered. “Oh, Lo…”

“Go to a bagel shop this morning?” Logan mumbled.

“I love the way you say bagel.”

Logan bit his lower lip and pulled gently.

“Bah-g-elle,” Finn whispered and hitched Logan’s leg up further over his hips. He knew it would stretch out his back nicely—and he knew he was right when Logan hummed happily. He moved his hand from Logan’s ass and dug two knuckles against the knot in his lower back.

“Yeah,” Logan breathed. “B-ay-gal.”

“No, don’t say it like me, say it like you.”

Logan bent to mouth over Finn’s mending shoulder. “Bagel.”

“Hm, yeah.” Finn snorted. “I really want Le to call and we’re just like, bah-gel, bay-gal, bah-bay.”

Logan laughed probably too hard at that, but Finn could tell they were both a little giddy. Logan was filling his chest up with happiness that was going to spill right out of him. Once he started laughing, he found that he couldn’t stop. Logan was shaking against him, hiding his grin in his neck. It got Finn going all over again.

Logan leaned back, smile wide. “Bah-bay.”

Finn put a hand over his eyes. “Oh my God, I can’t breathe. Bah-bay.”

“It’s not even funny,” Logan said, which sent them both into silent laughter again.

They quieted slowly, temples leaning together. Breathing in sync. This. This had never been in question—this part of them. Even in the times when Logan had taken Finn apart, told him no, told him nothing…Finn had never felt like they’d lose this part of them. Maybe that didn’t make sense, but it was true.

“You gonna win a Cup for me?” Finn whispered. He traced patterns on Logan’s back. A one and a zero. An L, E, O.

Logan nodded. “Mhm. Wr—r…” He sighed when Finn smiled. Finn felt kiss-stupid. “Rather win it with you.”

“Oo-wa-rather,” Finn whispered, and then took Logan’s chin between his fingers and melted Logan’s protests right out of his mouth. He kept Logan in place, kept the kiss gentle, tracing his tongue along Logan’s bottom lip. “I love everything you say.”

“How ‘bout them apples,” Logan mumbled and then cracked himself up.

Finn pressed his smile right into Logan’s cheek, making him turn his head to be caught in another kiss. “Mfh—okay, you’re just sticking your tongue in my mouth now.” Logan got back at him by licking a strip up his neck. Finn’s voice cracked when he said, “Weirdo.”

The bagel shop was one Finn hadn’t been to before. Logan had found it. He’d known Finn would love the black and white tiled floor and he had been right. Finn had scored them a table outside while Logan waited for their orders. Finn watched him through the window. He had taken two Advil and was stretching out his back when their order number was called. Finn caught the way the girl who handed him the bags looked at him. She and her friend had been watching the flex and stretch of his arms, too. Finn smiled to himself. Ha-ha-ha.

“Extra capers. Crazy.” Logan said when he sat down. He had two iced coffees as well. Finn’s was black, Logan’s was a light, light brown with milk. There were three sugar packets on the table and Finn watched as Logan ripped them open, popped the lid on his cup, and shook them in. Logan’s hair was still wet and he wasn’t wearing a hat. He had a sort of rust colored shirt, almost pink, and Finn couldn’t really stop looking at him. It was so different from his dark grays and greens. The breeze ruffled his curling hair.

“You look…” Finn said, then bit his straw between his teeth.

Logan arched a brow, unwrapping his bagel. He stuck a finger in his mouth when he got cream cheese on it. “Quoi.”

“Is that shirt new?”

“Ouais…” Logan looked down at it. “What’s wrong?”

Finn shook his head quickly. “No, no…You look good, baby.”

Logan didn’t look convinced and Finn laughed.

“No, I just never see you wear that color. I thought it was Leo’s. It surprised me. And—yeah, I just think you look good.”

Logan looked down at his bagel, his cheeks going a little pink to Finn’s delight.

“I went shopping,” Logan said grudgingly.

Finn’s eyebrows rose. Logan didn’t like clothes shopping. At all. Any other type, fine, but the kind where someone looks at you and tries to help you? No way. “Really.”

“Yes.”

“Really.”

“Yes.”

“Really…”

Logan huffed. “Finn.”

“With who? Alex?”

Logan took a big bite. He chewed. He took a sip of his coffee.

Finn gasped and slapped the table with his hands. The metal thrummed beneath his touch. “Oh. So Luke Deveaux gets to take you shopping but when I try—I see. Okay. I see.”

Logan was biting back a smile and Finn turned his chair sideways, away from Logan. Logan laughed and reached across the table to catch his hand.

“Non. You can take me shopping if you want.”

“Well, I don’t see a purpose to it now.” Finn was having fun with this. He angled his chin completely away from Logan and yanked his hand away with a flourish to pick up his coffee. “I see how it is.”

Logan groaned through his laugh. “Fi-i-nn.”

“He takes you shopping, he takes you running…”

With a scoff, Logan scooted his chair back. He stood over Finn. Finn put his sunglasses on.

“When Luke and I go shopping, we buy clothes,” Logan said. He leaned down, one hand braced on the back of Finn’s chair. Those green eyes didn’t let Finn look away from him. Not when he was this close. “We try on our different outfits and we’re in and out within the hour.”

“Good for you two. Very efficient.”

To Finn’s surprise, Logan turned to the side a little and sat himself right in Finn’s lap, all the warm, heavy strength of him. His arm went around Finn’s shoulders, the other flat-palmed against his chest. He could probably feel the way Finn’s heart picked up when he leaned in close and brushed his lips over Finn’s jaw. God, Finn hoped those girls were watching. Ha-ha.

“When you take me shopping…I want to pull you into the dressing room.” A soft kiss pressed to Finn’s neck. “I want to lock the door behind us and I want you to fuck me right there…” Another kiss. “In front of the mirror…” A gentle bite and, behind Finn’s glasses, his eyes slipped closed. “Where I can see how good you look when you’re about to make me come. When you’re trying to keep me quiet…”

Finn’s hand snapped to Logan’s hip. Logan smiled—Finn felt it. “You’d be so good at keeping your voice steady when someone knocks on the door…” Logan put on a slightly higher voice. “‘You finding everything okay?’” Logan pressed his mouth harder against Finn’s throat. “You’d be so good at it. ‘Oh, thanks so much…We’re fantastic.’”

“Logan.” Finn was starting to get hard in his shorts, pressing up against Logan’s thighs. He eased his palm over those strong thighs, fingers creeping up the inner seam of Logan’s shorts. Logan was sporting a semi and he knew Finn could see.

“So, please,” Logan said. “Take me shopping.”

And just like that, Logan was off of his lap. Finn swung his chair back inwards with a groan, shuffling his legs underneath the table. He took a sip of his iced coffee then held the cup to his cheek. “What the fuck.”

Logan returned to his own chair much more smoothly. God, if he had looked good in the dark pink a second ago, it was nothing compared to how he looked with that color flushing his cheeks. Finn needed a second. He picked up his food and tried to get his insides to stop throbbing.

“If it was one of those doors,” he said around a bite, “that don’t go all the way to the floor—”

“That would be so embarrassing,” Logan said, then grinned. “For the person who caught us, I mean.”

Finn just shook his head. “You liar. You’d be so nervous.”

“Try me.” Logan took another bite of his bagel and Finn swore, he swore, Logan made a show of licking the cream cheese. Logan looked at him all the while, green eyes playful. Finn didn’t know what unimaginably hot thing was going to come out of his mouth next. Did he want to go to the bathroom right now? Did he want to go home? Did he want to go shopping? Because Finn would. He would.

“Bah-bay,” Logan said.

Finn laughed so hard he dropped his coffee.

~

They had cleaned out their lockers. They had said see you at the lake to Remus’ parents. They had had one last dinner with as much of the team as they could—minus any New York stragglers—Kasey, Finn, Leo… They closed up their Gryffindor House. Sirius’ eyes had followed Remus around as he filled out his checklist. They had a final breakfast at their diner spot before hitting the road. Julian had been standing on the wrap-around porch, waving both of his hands as they pulled into the driveway. The grill had been going, his father raising the tongs in salute.

“Mm,” Sirius said, turning off the engine. “I’d kill for your dad’s steak.”

Remus laughed as he popped the door. “You know, I think he’ll just give it to you easily enough.”

After everything, those first two days felt like a fever dream. Afternoon swims. Sirius’ smile in the campfire light, laughing at something his mother had said. Sirius, wrapped up in the old-as-time blankets, snug in the bed Remus had been sleeping in since he was a child. Julian and Sirius tossing a football on the beach. Playing street hockey in the driveway. Watching people recognize Sirius in the little harbor breakfast spot—and, Remus had to keep realizing, watching them recognize him. Sirius’ big hands around a sharpie as he knelt to sign a little kid’s shirt.

Remus was now in the kitchen mashing up avocados for guacamole while his mom mixed a pitcher of margaritas. The dining room table was covered with place cards, flower combinations, and menus from the restaurant down the road. In just over a month, they’d bring their grills to the house for pulled-pork. They’d mix huge bowls of coleslaw, they’d chop up watermelon and make it into ice cream during dinner. Remus hadn’t had any time to worry about these things, and then suddenly he’d had nothing but time. Thank God for Hope Lupin.

“So, Lily and James are arriving in a week, right?” Hope said. “And Harry of course.”

“Yeah,” Remus said. “Sirius thought Harry would love the beach.”

“Lakes are good for babies,” Hope said. “Nice shallow water. Easy to watch. I always loved bringing you and Jules here. It’ll be sweet to see little Harry again.”

The back door slammed and Remus looked up at the sound of Julian’s laugh. He saw his mom smile.

“Shoes off!” she called. “No sand in the house, please! Or you’re doing the sweeping!”

There was a scuffle of shoes coming off and hockey sticks being leaned against walls, and then Julian bounded into the kitchen. Sirius followed a moment later.

Remus didn’t even think Sirius was making a show of how he leaned back against the refrigerator, sweating. “Jesus, Lupin.”

“Yes?” Remus said.

“Non,” Sirius panted. He jerked his chin at Julian. “That one.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Julian Lupin? Did you beat up my boyfriend?”

Julian swallowed a long drink of water and raised his eyebrows right back. “You mean your fiancé?”

Sirius laughed, using his t-shirt to wipe his face. Remus let his eyes catch on his stomach for a moment.

“Yes,” Remus said. “I mean my fiancé.”

“Then yeah,” Julian said. “I did.”

“He did,” Sirius agreed. When Julian wasn’t looking, Remus raised an eyebrow, and Sirius’ grin gave him away.

Sweetest boy on Earth.

“I’m going to take a shower if I have time?” Sirius said, eyes on Hope.

“You certainly do,” Hope said. “We’re on lake time, honey! Woo!”

“D’accord.” Sirius paused as he passed by Remus and settled a hand on his hip. “Salut, mon amor.”

“Hi,” Remus said.

“Be back soon.” Sirius pressed a kiss to his neck and disappeared towards the stairs.

“Re, will you take the clothes in from the line and bring them upstairs? I think it might rain a little tonight. Julian, finish up that guacamole, hon.”

“Kay,” Julian said. “Can I have a sip of a margarita?”

“You can have a baby one because you’re my baby,” Hope said.

Julian rolled his eyes, but he kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mama.”

On his way out, Remus kissed her other cheek.

Outside, the breeze did smell a little like rain, but the sun over the lake felt like summer. The wind was warm. The small nets were still set up for Sirius and Julian’s game of hockey. Remus walked around the side of the house towards the lake and found the clothes swaying in the breeze. A few of Sirius’ t-shirts hung together. Worn Lions ones from seasons past. Remus took one down and held it. He remembered this from Sirius’ second season. He brought it to his nose. It smelled like Sirius and like the cottage. Like the lake air and the detergent his mom used here.

Remus could have wrapped himself entirely in that smell.

He heard the shower cut off right as he reached the top creaky step. He set Julian’s clothes on his bed, his parents’ on theirs, and brought the basket into their own bedroom. He set Sirius’ shirts on the bed to fold. He was laying out a sweatshirt that hadn’t quite dried when the Sirius came in with a towel wrapped around his waist. Like always, he stubbed his toe on the frog-shaped metal doorstop.

“Merde,” Sirius cursed.

“You think you would have learned by now.”

Sirius nudged the heavy metal frog a little under the old dresser. “Me too.”

Sirius stole a shirt off of the pile Remus was folding. Remus watched quietly as he dropped his towel and shook it through his wet hair a few times. He’d gotten it cut before they left. He had a bit of a tan line, the part of his neck which his hair had covered was pale, but the sun would change that soon. The summer would change change many things. Sirius’ body still held every ounce of muscle built up throughout the season. Remus knew what each ridge and valley felt like. His shoulders and back looked like heaven in the light coming through their bedroom window. That would soften over the next months.

Sirius turned once he’d pulled his shorts on and laughed. “You keep staring.”

Remus looked down and smiled. “Oh, I just like your haircut, that’s all.”

“That’s all?”

Remus eyed the way the t-shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders. “You’ve got play-off shoulders going on.”

Sirius stepped towards him. He tossed the sweatshirt Remus was holding away and settled his hands on Remus’ hips. “So do you.”

Sirius’ kiss was heavy and slow. They hardly broke before a new one sent Remus’ head spinning.

“Remus!” Julian’s voice called up the stairs.

Remus didn’t reply. He wrapped Sirius up tighter against him. The bed creaked as Sirius pressed him against one of the posts. The wooden carved flower dug into the small of Remus’ back but Remus didn’t care. He felt like they hadn’t been alone in decades. Regulus in Gryffindor, his family here…

“I wish…” Remus panted as Sirius leaned down to kiss his neck. “You’re so…” His eyes slipped closed.

“Re-mus,” Julian called. “Mom won’t let me have a margarita and chips until everyone’s here.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Remus whispered, sounding almost forlorn to himself. With all his strength, he gave Sirius’ chest a little push. Sirius barely moved and Remus caught a flash of his smile when he dragged his mouth along Remus’ jaw to kiss him again.

“Remus!”

“Yeah—one second!” Remus called down, hoping he sounded at least a little normal.

“It’s been like fifty seconds!”

“On our way, Jules!” Sirius called—then he went right back to kissing Remus. Long, deadly-good kisses that made Remus feel like he was about to lose his footing. That was a good move, though. Julian never talked back to Sirius.

“Okay, cool!” Julian called back, much more happily.

Sirius laughed softly. Remus pushed his hands under Sirius’ shirt and rested his forehead against his shoulder. He spread his palms over Sirius’ stomach before sliding them around his hips to his back.

“Is this helping you?” Sirius asked. He was standing there almost patiently, dark eyes amused.

“Not even a little, but it’s nice anyway.”

Sirius took Remus’ hands in his and kissed his knuckles. “Allez. We’re holding up dinner.”

“What took you so long?” Julian dug his chip into the guacamole and sighed happily as he chewed. At least someone was satisfied.

“Sorry, I was getting dressed,” Sirius said. “Re was just putting away the laundry.”

“Jules,” Lyall laughed. He’d come in from the garden. “Leave them alone.”

Julian seemed to think this over. “Do you guys want to play another hockey game after dinner?”

“Sorry, Jules, Sirius is all mine after dinner.” When Julian stuck his tongue out at Remus, Remus did it right back. Beneath the table, Sirius took his hand.

[stealingpotatoes]

i love love love your anidala art so much!! it always makes me smile!

aww thank you!! hope this lil sketchbook Anidala I did yesterday also makes u smile!!

[fruitcoops]

Quicken

Fic O'Ween Day 10: Spellbound, for the Firefighter/ EMT AU! Read First Burn, Spark (rated E), and Kindling & Embers for previous installments! Coops 'n Cubs belong to @lumosinlove, fest header belongs to @noots-fic-fests <3

TW implied past smut, mentioned current medical emergencies

Keep me?

If you don’t want—

Keep me. Keep me.

I can do that.

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

God, he was so fucking dumb.

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

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

Shithell.

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

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

“How was your night?”

“None of your business.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Twenty-seven minutes.”

“…sorry.”

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

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

--

Hey I’m so sorry.

Nope.

Good morning—

Certainly not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The siren slit his concentration down the middle.

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

“All EMS personnel, report to rig 6—”

“Inventory?”

Remus grimaced. “Halfway.”

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

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

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

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

“On it!”

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

“Multiple victims!”

“D-4?”

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

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

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

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

“Remus!”

“Hi, yeah—”

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine!”

“Not really! I didn’t want to!”

Sirius barked a laugh. “I’m glad!”

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

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

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

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

The laughter bubbled free, and it didn’t stop until Remus felt half-drowned from it.

[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

[wiiwarechronicles]

Eating ice cream in the cold

[inexplicablymine]

WIP WEDNESDAY

It is the first WIP WEDNESDAY of 2024 and in preparation for the start of the new year I have something fun for you!!! All of my WIP posts going forward into this next year will be for multichapter works that I have coming out sometime in 2024.

So for today, a current shortlist of multichapter works coming out + some little snippets

Giftmas

12 fics of Giftmas: 9 one shot works left to post that will resume in a “10 days of posting in a row” festivities once I am settled into my new home in a new country after a very abrupt move over the holidays

Looking for Orion

6 CH | art by @okayandre_art

5+1 Alive Arthur fic, five times Henry had important conversations with Arthur while hunting for Orion and one time Alex did. You can read my snippet here.

Olympic Proportions

3 work follow up | art by @noodles_and_tea

follow ups to my fic Because I’m A Scoundrel following the boys on their Olympic journeys to Paris 2024 (in real time) with the qualifying events and the Olympics themselves

Mind Over Matter

14 CH | Canon Divergence

Magical Mindreading AU; when Alex is granted the gift of being able to hear thoughts about him from those he is most compatible with, everything goes… slightly different.

Sweater Weather

9 CH | Letters Focused

Childhood Best Friends to Lovers over the course of their first year in college on opposite coasts as D1 Soccer players (yes it is football I know, apologies, they are playing in the US)

the ties that bond us

10 CH | art by literally almost everyone (not kidding)

Bond/Q actor AU following the boys over the ups and downs of shooting and promoting a new Bond trilogy and the epistolary view from the outside world as they get together!

[Redacted] co write with @celaestis1

15 CH | Dual POV

Strangers to Lovers AU, what happens when you don’t have that DTR, and the hilarious differences in the understanding of “what are we”

Ice Ice Baby

37 CH | Zukka | ATLA | art will be commissioned by @jasminedragonart

Olympic Figure Skating AU that follows the gangs journey over nearly a decade in the limelight. Yes that’s right. A full length ATLA work that has been outlined for 2+ years. I figured it was time. ;)

[redacted] for The Pairing

… yes that’s right I already have an idea for a work 👀 can’t wait to get my hands on the book and languish in it

Thank you to everyone recently for the tags in the end of year games ~ I have just complied them ALL below both as a thank you for tagging me and a tag back + some amazing wonderful people I would like to see how you are doing in this new year <33 (also open tag PLS SHOW ME THE THINGS!!!)

I am in the middle of an abrupt move and have not been as present taking care of those pesky real life things that adults must partake in.

@absolute-audacity @adreamareads @affectionatelyrs @alasse9 @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @arand0mdutchgirl @athousandrooms @babiemonk @celeritas2997 @cityofdownwardspirals @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cha-melodius @14carrotghoul @dumbpeachjuice @daisymae-12 @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @gayrootvegetable @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heartitinthesilence @historicallysam @hypnostheory @iboatedhere @indomitable-love @kiwiana-writes @leaves-of-laurelin @matherines @nontoxic-writes @orchidscript @onward--upward @peachesobviously @read-and-write- @rockyroadkylers @raysletters @smc-27 @saintlynomenclature @suseagull04 @songliili @three-drink-amy @tintagel-or-cockleshells @treluna4 @vonpeepsisback @welcometololaland @xthelastknownsurvivorx @zwiazdziarka

And there are more but I am limited by tagging conventions shakes fist

[emsgoodthinkin]

“One love, two mouths

One love, one house

No shirt, no blouse” -The Neighborhood

[poopiefart420]

RAHHH i got a new sketchbook so have this low quality modern Atreus doodle

(What if I told you he’s holding hands with angrboda)

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Rei is late for the first time since he's started working at Poirot.

Neither terrorism attacks nor hostage crises have affected his being on time. Not even a runaway horse managed to keep him.

But he spends one night with Akai Shuichi, and his perfect record is ruined. Asshole.

Despite his calling ahead, Azusa gives him a worried look. He stops briefly to give her a mock-embarrassed apology, turning up the charm. Promises he won't be late again. Then he's off to the storage room.

He needs to fetch his ingredients and get to baking.

Rei's going to find Akai and strangle him, just as soon as his shift is over.

.

Roughly 12 hours earlier.

There's a gun aimed right between his eyes.

That in itself is nothing unusual. The situation could be worse, really.

After all, his own gun is pointed right back at Akai Shuuichi's annoyingly smug face. At this distance, he'll be able to read his movement, react in time. He'd rather talk, but if the sniper fires, Rei will drag him into hell too.

Blood for blood. Mutually assured destruction.

(His excitement is slightly dampened by the fact he's rather certain Akai won't kill him.)

"Caught you." Rei can't help the satisfaction slipping into his voice.

Finally. After three years, their game of cat and mouse is over. He'll have his answers.

The most pressing of which-

"Where's Scotch?"

The words cut into the silence, sharpened by fear. His best friend might still be dead, after all. (If he isn't, why hasn't he contacted Rei?)

It's not like he has much to go on to suspect he's alive, besides the fact that Akai himself came back from the dead. Rei can only hope he brought Hiro along.

Before Akai answers, there's a click. The world becomes dizzyingly bright, expanding past the muzzles of their guns.

Rei blinks the disorientation away. Spots silhouettes from the corner of his eyes. He hasn't met them before, but he's familiar, of course, with the owners of this house. How long have the Kudos been watching them?

While he's busy processing that revelation, Akai holsters his gun. Part of Rei hates how nonchalant Akai is about all of this, exposing himself so easily. Like Rei isn't a threat, won't put a bullet in his head because of a couple of witnesses. (Hates that he's probably right.)

"I propose a trade. For old time's sake."

(The words leave a bitter taste with Rei. They haven't exchanged anything, not goods, not words, not warmth, in years.)

Akai snaps open a cheap flip phone - likely a burner. His thumb hovers over the call button. The fingers of his other hand, long and dextrous, wrap around the barrel of Rei's P7M8, tugging gently, but insistently.

Rei considers his options. He holds no illusions - without his gun, he won't be able to dispatch Akai. But he's more than capable of holding his own for long enough to escape, if need be.

(He could just fire, right now. It wouldn't have to be lethal. Could take the phone by force. But chances are, whatever information Akai has, he'll be much less willing to share it with a bullet wound.)

Rei looks up at Akai, meets his green, green eyes. The part of him that shows genuine emotions, some days. (Not that Rei is one to talk.)

Finds Akai looking...tired. He wears a small smile, but it's worn around the edges. There's no open mockery, no quiet amusement. It's just the two of them, and an offer.

Rei lets go of the gun. He hopes he won't be needing it, tonight.

.

Akai helps him up, his hand warm and steady. As soon as he's upright, Rei lets go - he can walk perfectly fine by himself, thank you very much.

The FBI agent shows him to the living room, tells Rei to make himself a home. After all, the Kudos have promised to give him some privacy, for his chat.

For a moment, the sniper lingers, gaze caught by the phone. Then Akai casts his eyes down, and leaves Rei alone.

Silence, if not for the crackle of the damned fireplace, fills the room. Rei hesitates for a moment. Then he presses 'call' for the only number in the directory.

The phone crackles with static, beeps as it establishes connection, then-

"Hi, Zero."

The world stops moving. Relief floods his system, sapping the tension from his muscles. He leans against the soft backrest, breathing freely for the first time in a good long while.

.

Their talk is short. Rei asks some questions to establish it's truly Hiro, not an imposter (though that would make a very poor basis for the negotiation the Kudos have planned).

Hiro tersely explains some things, although he isn't allowed to give away much. He's in the FBI's witness protection program. That they're talking at all is a massive bending of the rules, authorized only because of Akai's insistence. He claimed it was of critical importance to their mission.

It certainly is, to Rei.

.

The next hours are a blur.

The sofa dips when Akai sits down at his side, the Kudos already having taken their seats on the other side of the small coffee table. (He wishes Akai would sit farther away. That he be less reasonable in his assumptions and demeanour.)

It's somewhat surreal to think that celebrity actress Kudo Yukiko of all people gives him a steaming cup of chamomile lavender honey tea. Good thing working with Vermouth has knocked most of the starstruck behaviour out of him; his younger self would have made a fool of himself.

He can't afford that. After all, they are seeking him out in an official capacity, requesting PSB senior agent Furuya Rei's cooperation.

It certainly is strange for them to reach out through him, considering his known enmity of Akai. But he's a professional - he might be reluctant to work with the man, but it's not his decision to make. He'll relay the offer, unless it's utter garbage.

So he pays attention while they share what they can of their plan to take down the organisation. Listens to their pledge for equal contribution, and their promise of crediting the PSB with a successful operation; an obvious play intended to soothe the wounded pride of the Japanese, after years of illegal activity. But it's the least they can do.

If one were to ask Rei, the offer is certainly worth considering. The PSB has been working the case for five years now, and while they have gathered intel, and managed to place Bourbon as a vital asset, they're barely closer to shutting the organization down than when they started. It's sprawling, interconnected with various businesses, and, worst of all, active internationally. If they don't cut off all its heads at the same time, odds are the members will simply flee to a different branch. Maybe lie low for a bit, and then go about their business with renewed vigour.

It seems like an international cooperation might just be necessary to achieve this task. So he'll be their messenger; it's above his pay grade to decide whether to take them up on the offer or not.

Though privately, he hopes his superiors agree; every day they lose ground to the organization. By this point, Rei doesn't really care anymore whose plan it is that finally does the organization in, as long as it gets done. (And as long as he and the PSB are finally treated with the appropriate amount of respect.)

Still, he can't help thinking they wouldn't be having this conversation now, if these foreign agencies had respected the official channels ahead of time. Maybe Hiro could be hiding in Nagano then, with his brother, instead of being confined to the other half of the globe. In the US, of all the terrible places to be. He shivers.

.

By the time they're done it's very late. Rei is already half-dozing off, despite his best efforts to stay awake. It would be highly irresponsible to drive in this state, so he's asked their hosts for a coffee (he's sure a place housing Akai will have more than enough of it to go around). He'll just rest his eyes for a moment, until they're back.

.

Something light is being dropped on him, almost stirs him to consciousness. But it's warm, soft, and smells of huddling together in an abandoned apartment.

(Of long-forgotten small comforts.)

Not a threat.

Thus satisfied, his body collects its due, and he's dragged back under, into deep, dreamless sleep.

.

Which brings Rei to the reason he's late.

Someone, and he has a very good idea of who it was, put his phone in airplane mode, drew all the curtains shut, and kept the rest of the house quiet.

(Let him sleep for as long as he needed to.)

So Rei wakes up with a start, in a barely familiar place, the digital clock on the wall indicating it's way past opening time for Poirot. Shit.

He grabs his belongings, pistol, clothes and keys and all, and dashes out the door. He swears he can see Okiya - no, Akai, he was right, damn it - look down on him from that favourite window of his. Asshole. Contrary to him Rei has a job, a cover to maintain. He'll get back at him, yet.

.

It should probably worry him that he can perform the drive to Poirot on autopilot. Too many late-night stakeouts turning into impromptu naps, requiring him to drive straight to work after. So much trouble, over nothing. If Akai had just cooperated sooner-

Then, what? Rei hadn't managed to track him down before his supposed death, and the less interaction there is between Okiya Subaru and Amuro Tooru, the better for both of them. He grinds his teeth, barely manages to brake in time for a redlight.

(Hates that he understands the caution, to a degree.)

.

The universe really is conspiring against him, today.

After the lunchtime rush, a certain pocket-sized detective is ushered in through the door, followed by his guardian and her best friend. The kid gives him odd looks all throughout ordering lunch, too sharp in a way that makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand in up. Rei gives him his sunniest smile, and an extra packet of sugar. He's played games with Gin and Vermouth in worse conditions; he won't yield to a particularly precocious six-year-old.

Despite getting more sleep than the last three nights combined, he's not feeling too well. A single good night's rest can't undo weeks of insomnia. If anything, it only makes apparent what he's lacking.

He finds his mind wandering, glad the preparation of food comes automatically, by now. Whisk and mix and pour. Fry, remove from the pan...

"...uro? You seem unwell."

Too-familiar green eyes stare back at him, bags under the eyes and all. Rei barely manages not to flinch.

Of all the people to catch him spacing out, it just has to be Akai's little sister. The gods must truly hate him.

"Ah, miss Sera. I apologize, I was just pondering some new options for our menu." He winks, gives her his most dazzling smile. "The chamomile lavender honey tea cake has me under its spell."

In response, she just wrinkles her nose, unimpressed. Squints at him with those jade eyes that always see through him too easily.

"Are you sure you're not running a fever? It seems a little warm in here already, yet you're working in a sweater."

Rei blinks at that. The temperature seems fine to him. Azusa hasn't said anything about it either.

"I appreciate the concern, but I assure you, I'm perfectly fine. Now, what can I get you?"

One slice of red velvet cake (of course - why did they even keep that on the menu?) and a macchiato later he's rid of her.

For now, at least - she's joined her friends at the window seats, and judging by the way she keeps sneaking glances at him when she thinks he isn't looking, he hasn't seen the last of her yet.

Still, her questions are odd. Surely he doesn't look that terrible?

(Vermouth has taught him some of her secrets; he's been concealing the shadows under his eyes for a while now. Nobody's ever found him out. Why is it now that people notice?)

.

He continues to work mindlessly, unfocused. This damn shift just doesn't seem to want to end.

He just about manages to avoid knocking Ran out for leaning over the counter, into his space. She remains blissfully unaware of the danger she just escaped, smiling brightly, kindly.

"Excuse me, I have a question."

Rei closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, counts to four. Smiles at the girl. "Go ahead", he says, continuing to whisk some cake batter.

Ran leans in closer, conspiratorially.

"Masumi is too shy to ask" - that's a bold-faced lie, if he's ever heard one, and he's something of an expert on the matter - "but she'd love to know where you got that sweater."

Now, Ran's a lovely young lady, always eager to help. It's a pity she's being manipulated for Sera's gain. Because there has to be more to the question, even if Rei can't see it yet.

Of course, he can't tell the girls the truth - Kazami bought it for Bourbon's cover. But the best lies are closest to the truth, so-

"I apologize, but I do not know where it was bought. A friend gave it to me." His best calculated-apologetic smile smoothes the blow, hopefully.

"Oh. I see." Ran visibly deflates. Still, her good manners prevail. "Thank you, though!" And with that, she's heading back to her table.

Strange. What could Sera possibly want with his sweater? If she wanted to track him down, surely there's more efficient ways, and it's not like he doesn't have a dozen similar cream sweaters-

Wait. Cream?

Rei's pretty sure he dressed in black to infiltrate the Kudo manor. He's not been home and he hasn't changed for work.

He manages to supress a groan, but he's sure there's some unpleasant emotion visible on his face.

...he must have grabbed the sweater along with the rest of his belongings in the morning rush.

Now that he's looking at it, it's clearly a little too large for him. It's also warm, fuzzy, soft, and utterly unoffensive. That's probably why it didn't register, before.

The sweater does smell decidedly of Akai - cigarettes and a hint of his obnoxious aftershave. The warm scent of curry is new - though unsurprising, given his foray into cooking. Great. That's why they've been staring at him. Sera probably recognizes the sweater and Conan spends enough time with Akai to recognize the scent.

His gut instinct is to go change, right now, get rid of the damning piece of connection to the man he has too many conflicting emotions about. But a long-sleeved black turtleneck is hardly appropriate work attire for Poirot. Besides, if he changes now, the pair of detectives watching him will just have their suspicions confirmed.

So he grits his teeth, takes in a deep breath that smells too much like Akai, and gets back to work.

.

Rei does change out of the sweater as soon as he's done with his shift.

(It doesn't help. The scent lingers.)

.

He's tempted to just toss the sweater, but can't help feeling like it would be a waste. It's quality craftsmanship, well-worn but taken care of - this kind of sweater would pill, otherwise.

It really shouldn't be faulted for its owner's flaws.

So he puts the sweater in a bag, intending to have it dry-cleaned and give it back later.

He should really hunt down Akai, too, but if he's honest, he's just too tired. He probably shouldn't even drive, in his condition, but he needs to get to a safe place, to think about the developments of the night.

.

He reports to Kuroda, showers thoroughly, and falls into bed.

.

Rei can't have slept long. The sunset colours the world in blood red hues by the time he wakes up, out of breath, heartbeat too fast.

Visions of smoke and ash cling to him. Explosions, destroying him one by one, until nothing remains but death alone.

Hagiwara and Matsuda, taken by violent flame.

Hiro's remains, crushed and burnt beyond recognition.

Akai's smile, grimly defiant, as he's shot by Kir. He too finds his end in a blaze, lacking glory.

They're gone.

Consumed by the inferno that seems to follow Rei around. Which burns everything he cares about, leaves him freezing in its wake.

(He can't even cry, his tears evaporating in the heat.)

Rei shivers, draws the blankets closer. Hopes for a little bit of cover, a little bit of warmth.

Please. If he could just shake off the nausea. If he could stop his spiralling thoughts. Logically, he knows that's not all true, even if his heart burns. Akai and Hiro aren't dead.

It's a lie, they're alive, it's a lie, they're alive, it's a lie a lie a lie a lie-

A set of sharp barks rips him out of his thoughts, back into the present.

Oh. He's woken Haro.

The little guy stands in front of his bed, ears tucked back and hackles raised. A defiant ball of fluff that cares so much, trying to growl the nightmares away.

(It might just work.)

Slowly, shaking and somewhat off-balance, he reaches down to scoop up his dog. Wiggles the blanket off his shoulders so he may cradle the whining bundle of fur to his chest. It's soothing, to feel the warmth of another living being by his side. They sit, the silence permeated by Haro's huffed breaths. His body heat seeps into Rei's chest, nestles in his heart.

"I apologize for worrying you. I'll be fine, soon."

He's not alone.

Haro nudges his hand, demands to be pet. Rei obliges, of course he does.

He's not alone.

.

Still, the headache is a pain. He won't be able to go back to sleep like this, will need to grab a painkiller.

He makes his way to the kitchen counter, keeping to the walls because he's still somewhat unsteady, carrying his bundle of warmth along.

The dog throws a fit as they pass the bag with Akai's sweater, growling and yapping at it. Despite the circumstances, Rei can't help but smile.

"I'm glad to see we feel the same way about him."

Wait.

Inspiration strikes in the form of a very stupid idea.

Because that sweater, with its stupid mixed scents, reeking of Akai, is proof he didn't just imagine last night's events. Tangible and olfactory and physical proof. If he were to wake from a nightmare, with it by his side...the anger at Akai would surely keep the pain at bay.

It's worth a try.

.

When he goes back to bed, Haro lies down beside him. Rei keeps petting him, one-handedly. With the other, he holds on to a cream sweater that isn't his.

When he breathes, it smells of too-long stakeouts in windy apartments.

Of Rye's extra blankets, the ones he started to bring when he noticed Bourbon always freezing; irritating to no end, how he was always better prepared for cold weather than Rei.

(It smells of Bourbon's cooking, given in exchange for soft blankets.)

Scents of a tentative alliance, as thread-bare as the fabric between them.

Grounded between the warmth of Haro, and the scent of Akai, Rei falls asleep, waiting for the dog days to finally be over.

[imsiriuslyreading]

Can you tell me a wolfstar secret?

Just a lil secret for your big cheese. Something you feel strongly about.

there you are, my big cheesy babe.

i can.

wolfstar secret, it’s a sappy one don’t laugh.

listen i adore everything about them. the happy, the sad. the passion, the arguments. the jokes, the size difference. the personality clashes and the way they fit.

but the best bit? their friendship. they are friends in every story. and there’s something so beautiful about that i think. the closeness, the intimacy and the knowing and being known that comes with the friends to lovers tale is something quite unlike anything else. to see and be seen. to listen and be heard.

to see all the bad bits and think hey i adore this person all the more for it.

that’s my wolfstar secret love.

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

June part iii

But if you try sometime you’ll find

You get what you need

Leo turned his face up to the sun. It was quiet, save for the waves lapping at the boat’s edge and the rocks of his cove. And it was his cove. It had always been his cove, ever since he’d been allowed to take the boat out on his own. It was nearing evening but it was still warm and the sun still reached its soft fingers out across the water to touch his face.

All his thoughts were drowned out by the tree frogs, with their monotone song, and the wind in the trees. He looked at the fishing rods over the side. He’d caught nothing, but it was mostly a meditation anyway, or at least a form of one. Setting everything up, and then settling into the idea of a couple hours alone on the water. Cool, sweet iced tea and his Mama’s ham and mustard sandwiches.

He should go. It would be dark soon, and no one wanted to be near the rocks in the dark. He pulled everything inside the boat—rods, anchor. The motor hummed to life with ease, and he took his time, not ready to leave the dimming sun, or the way the wind rippled his t-shirt across his damp back.

When he turned towards the marina, all he could see were the bright crystals of the reflecting water. As he got closer though, squinting, he saw that there was someone standing at the end of their private dock. A silhouette of the sunset. Someone with a tilt to their head, a set to their shoulders, that Leo would know anywhere.

~

One Week Earlier

Remus went to his knees when Madison Square Garden erupted around him. He went to his knees when Leo fell, glove still outstretched but empty. He went to his knees when Logan’s puck found the back of Leo’s net.

Remus completely missed the Rangers’ celebration, pinning Logan up against the glass. The puck was swooped neatly off the ice, away from Leo, and handed to the Rangers’ equipment manager to be taped, labeled as a game seven game-winner, and readied for Logan to take home as a keepsake. Logan went off the ice. Thank God Logan went off. He had been for over two different shifts and he knew them. He knew them so well. Remus watched him put his head down against the boards when he made it back to the Rangers’ bench. His shoulders were rising and falling harshly. Luke thumped a hand on his back, eyes concerned behind his visor. Remus risked a glance at Leo and wished he hadn’t. His mask was down, his head was down.

This could be their nightmare.

Remus saw Sirius skate to the face-off circle. He registered James, right at Sirius’ side as usual but looking haunted. James looked up at the clock, which made Remus look up at the clock. Nothing but his blood rushed in his ears.

Nineteen seconds.

He tried to will the numbness out of his hands and feet. He drew a breath that felt sharp when the referee dropped the puck.

There was no scramble for it this time. Sirius swept it back to James, and James held it close. Remus felt himself call for it, tapping his blade on the ice. They didn’t have time to hesitate. James didn’t even look at him, drawing the Rangers’ defense away and over into his own lane before sending a clean, arrow-straight pass to Remus.

Remus caught it, and pushed hard. He didn’t think about anything but keeping the puck close and keeping his strides fast. His muscles burned, even inch of him held tight as Saint trained his body onto him, guessing what Remus might do next.

Six hundred options went through Remus’ head as the white ice blurred beneath him, and he went for, not his own favorite, but Sirius’. The shot that he’d adored as a PT. The one that made Sirius look like pure magic.

Remus let the puck drag, let his skate drag, slowing down the play and making Saint crouch. He knocked it to the other side of his blade, and lifted the puck as hard as he could.

Saint didn’t catch it. It rebounded against his blocker and Remus lunged forward—but Sirius was right there. He sent it hard, as hard as he could, right towards the empty sliver of space above Saint’s shoulder.

Remus was close enough to hear Saint’s shout. It sounded like outrage. His glove reached up, windmilling, and snatched the puck out of the air. He slammed it, captive, down on the ice, and the final horn went.

Remus fell to a knee. “No…”

He was close enough to hear Sirius’ shout, too, something past outrage, and watch as he slammed his stick low against the boards behind the Rangers’ net, snapping off the blade.

Game over.

Remus couldn’t hear the stadium for a long, long stretch of eerie quiet. He heard his own breathing. He heard his own, choked, desperate breathing.

Jules, he thought, and then it was all he could think. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Blue, red, and white gear fell around him as the Rangers threw their sticks and gloves in celebration. The roar filtered slowly back into Remus’ register, and then slammed into him like a wall of sound so hard that he had to close his eyes. The pummeling of hands on the glass sounded like thunder.

This was the hard part of perfection. So much of this year had been difficult. So much of it had been adjusting, then readjusting, climbing and struggling to get things right.

He’d started to believe he was owed this win. When had he started thinking like that?

Something tapped against his side and he looked up to find Pascal there. His face was stone, set and somber, and he jerked his chin towards something. Remus looked to see his teammates quickly filing into a line, waiting to shake hands with the still celebrating Rangers. A pile of blue on the ice, glimpses and flashes of laughter and grins and tears. He looked for Logan, but he couldn’t pick him out. Sirius was there, at the line’s front, waiting with his eyes averted from the celebrating New York.

Pascal helped Remus to his feet, said something that Remus couldn’t hear, and they skated towards the line together.

~

Logan’s hand found Sirius’ and about four different camera flashes went off at once.

“Sirius,” Logan said. “I…”

“I’m happy for you, Tremz,” Sirius said. He squeezed Logan’s hand then put his other one on Logan’s shoulder and pulled him in for a hard, quick hug. “Really.”

“Merci,” Logan said softly. “I’m sorry, you—look, you played so well. That shot—”

Sirius nodded and let go. Logan realized he didn’t want to hear it. “So did you.”

Remus was right behind him, pulling him into a shaky, one-armed hug.

“You deserve this,” Remus said. “Really, Tremz.”

“You’ll get one,” Logan said. And Remus looked away. Logan could hardly stand this. “I know you will.”

Remus smile was sad. “Yeah…Yeah.”

Logan wished he could spend ten minutes on each boy. Olli, Kris…

Kota held out his hand for Logan to shake. “Um. Good game.”

Logan hesitated for only a second before putting his hand into Kota’s. “You too…” He sighed. “Truce for the summer.”

Kota cracked a smile. “Yeah.”

Logan watched Kota pass by to shake Alex’s hand. Replacement. Logan didn’t think he’d ever look at Kota and not think of him that way. Even if they both ended up, somewhere down the line, on completely different teams with no Rangers or Lions even in the picture.

“What, no handshake for me?”

Logan looked back to see Pascal standing there. His helmet was off, brown and grey hair curling over his forehead. His smile was the realest one Logan had seen from the Lions.

“Dumo,” Logan said. It came out a little broken, and he more or less fell into his tight hug.

“I’m happy for you, mon fils. Don’t judge Leo on how he treats you just now,” Pascal said softly in his ear. “And don’t judge yourself.” He pulled back, hands on Logan’s shoulders. “D’accord?”

How? Logan wanted to ask. How how how?

Kuny stopped in front of him, jostling him with a hand on his head and a hard slap to his back. Logan wished he had something better to say. He wished he was better with words.

And there was Leo.

Hair darkened from sweat, cheeks red. He still had his glove tucked under his arm. Logan would relive that moment forever. Watching Leo fall to the ice, glove empty. Feeling himself shout in celebration, maybe out of muscle memory, only for what had just happened to crash into him nearly as hard as his teammates had. He’d been pushed away from Leo, from the blue paint. Like a photograph going out of focus, he had watched the blurred image of Leo pushing himself back up.

Logan came to a complete stop. He put a hand on Leo’s chest because he couldn’t help it. He touched the lion printed there. Even then, Leo didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Le,” Logan whispered. Leo put his hand over Logan’s, but that was about all. Leo’s hand was so slack, so cold, and his blue eyes flit once to meet Logan’s, but hardly for half a second. “Soleil…”

“Proud of you,” Leo said quietly. “I am, I…”

Logan opened his mouth to say something more, unsure what, but then Leo’s hand slipped out of his and he was left blinking hard and face-to-face with Thomas. That had happened too fast. Logan wanted to turn and grab Leo’s hand again, pull him into a hug.

But maybe Leo didn’t want that. Maybe, for the first time since they’d met, Leo didn’t want anything to do with him.

Thomas had seen, and pulled him into a short hug. “You’ll both be okay.” He pulled away and put a hand over Logan’s heart, tapping once. “Love you, man. It was a good series.”

“It was,” Logan said softly. “I’m—I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Thomas tapped his chest again, more firmly, like he was pressing something into Logan. “You’ll be okay.”

Champagne sprayed against his cheeks and got his hair sticky once they entered the locker room. The alcohol was sweet on his tongue, salty from his sweat. He smiled when he saw the cameras, it would look strange if he didn’t. He took a beer when it was offered to him.

It all happened to him, but he felt like he was hovering just outside of the room, looking through glass.

He found his stall and pulled his jersey over his head. He yanked off his pads and unstuck his undershirt, drenched in sweat, from his skin. God. He didn’t want beer or champagne. He wanted to go home. He pulled a sweatshirt over his head to keep his muscles warm.

Someone hugged him from behind. “Hey.”

Luke appeared, grinning. He jostled Logan by his shoulders. Luke’s hair was sticking up in different directions from his helmet and the champagne. His mouth looked, well, thoroughly kissed, and Logan glanced at Saint, who had a smirk on his face as he gave an interview for one TV network or another.

“Game winning goal, Tremz,” Luke said. “Means you get to pick where we celebrate first tonight. We got three days off, we’re going hard.”

Alex put an arm around Logan’s shoulders and Logan looked up at him. He hoped Alex, like Finn, could read his face without him having to say anything. Alex sent him a sympathetic smile and squeezed tighter.

“It is true,” Alex said. “You get to choose. You should choose. I know this is not how you pictured it, but you still deserve this.”

“We didn’t win yet,” Logan said. “You remember that, right?”

Luke sent him an unimpressed look. “When you pull through a seven game series, you get to have a couple drinks with your friends at a nice bar.”

Logan would have usually jumped at that chance to celebrate, at letting loose for a day or two before they were back and battling—well, whoever else was moving on. Everyone would be keeping an eye on the Lightning and Panthers game set for tomorrow. Logan wanted nothing more than to only be thinking about going to a rooftop bar and staying up until the sun rose.

But it wasn’t so simple. In his head, Leo was holding a champagne bottle to his lips and Finn was boxing him in against the rooftop wall with the rising sun against his face.

Home.He wanted to go home. Luke read it on him as easily as Alex had.

“I know,” Luke said then grabbed his shoulders again. “I know, but come on. You have to celebrate with us. I know you didn’t want to be, but you’re part of this team. I’m…” He paused, blinking. He briefly touched the cut and bruise from the high stick under his eye, and then his mouth. He glanced behind him at Saint, then back to Logan. “I’m fucking happy you’re here, Tremz.”

Logan smiled, but there were still Leo’s sad eyes pressing at him. At that moment, Percy jumped on Luke’s back, momentarily pulling him away into a mess of foaming beers and cameras.

Alex leaned in. They were alone, at least for the moment. “If we’re going to be…us. Who we are…” It didn’t take Logan any time at all to decipher who us was, and what they were together. “Then we can’t let it affect our play. And that’s what you showed them out there tonight. That we can love and play. And I’m grateful. Leo will be, too, after a little time.”

“Alex,” Logan began to say, but then Luke’s laugh filtered back in as he pushed Percy away towards where a camera was trying to interview him. He turned back to Logan.

“So?” Luke asked. “Where to?”

Finn and Leo would no doubt tell him he should go, but all he wanted to hold Leo until he could erase the crestfallen look from his face.

“Please,” Luke said more gently. “I know this is…I know you’re probably feeling a lot of different things right now but we’re your friends.” He glanced at Alex, who nodded. “Let us help. Just a little while. I want you there.”

“Me too, Tremble,” Alex said.

Logan rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Non. Mais—merde. Just…Okay.” Alex let out a whoop. “Let me find them first, let me just…” He looked towards the locker room door and accidentally made eye-contact with a few reporters who were looking at him hungrily.

Alex released him. “You have ten minutes before I’m pushing you into the shower so we can get this night going.”

“Alex,” Logan said. “The reporters by the door.”

Alex didn’t have to be told twice. He turned his hat backwards, raised his hands up and walked to the center of the room. “I have some super important things to say! Very important. Over here!”

Logan and Luke shared a look, laughing as the reporters were drawn like moths towards light.

“Um,” Alex began once the recorders and iPhones were inches from his mouth. “Okay, wait, let me think what they were…”

Luke gave him a little push. “Go.”

Logan tapped Luke’s cheek. “Looks like you already went.”

Luke’s next push was a shove.

The hallway was empty. Everyone was in the locker room for now, but it wouldn’t stay that way once the celebrations ended and the players had to be left alone to get dressed. Logan glanced behind him one more time as he made his way down the hallway, away from the doors. Maybe Finn would be with Leo—God knew the Lions wouldn’t want him in their locker room right now. But maybe if he waited outside, a little ways away, he’d be able to catch Finn’s mom, or Leo’s, and tell them that he just wanted to say…what did he want to say? Maybe he didn’t have to say anything, not if they didn’t want him to. Maybe they didn’t even want to see him, but he needed to see them. Just a glimpse. He turned the corner—he’d be out of sight of any reporters now. He looked behind him one more time, just in case, and when he looked forward again he stopped hard.

Finn was there, leaning against the wall, alone. He pushed himself upright when he saw Logan.

“Hi,” Finn said in a rush. “Hi. Hi, I—wasn’t sure if you’d be—Or, I also didn’t think any reporters should see me waiting right outside because, I don’t know, we’re rivals right now and all but that’s a stupid reason, so I…But I wanted to see you? I was going to call but maybe you didn’t have your—”

“Harzy,” Logan breathed. He closed the space between them in two strides, so relieved that it knocked the breath out of him, and reached up to hug him hard.

Finn had been expecting it, waiting for it, and clutched him back with one hand. Logan crushed them together, hands locked behind Finn’s neck. He remembered the sling.

“Oh—” But he couldn’t seem to let go. Finn. This was what he’d wanted. This was home.

“You’re not hurting me,” Finn’s voice had turned rough. He squeezed Logan tighter. “You’re not hurting me, it’s okay.”

Logan just shook his head. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay.

Finn pressed his face into Logan’s neck, letting out a slow breath. “Just wanted to see you off the ice. It’s so different out there. You’re still wearing blue, though.”

“You love all those books where the enemies become lovers.” Logan’s voice was muffled by Finn’s shoulder.

Finn laughed softly. “I love that you know that.” He passed a hand through Logan’s damp hair. “You were never my enemy, though.”

“I was tonight.”

“No. You were an opponent tonight. That’s different.”

“Are you okay?” Logan pulled back to see his eyes. “Your head?”

“I feel okay,” Finn said, but he looked tired and strained. Logan put one of his cold hands to Finn’s forehead. It made Finn close his eyes briefly in relief. “Don’t worry about me.”

Logan had plenty to worry about. He saw Leo’s face again, eyes down, shying away from the cameras. “Is he okay?”

Finn just stroked careful fingers over a fresh bruise on Logan’s cheek.

“Does he still want—like, to see me?”

“God, Lo, of course he does. It’s not your fault.”

Yes it is. Yes, it is.

“I’m gonna take him home,” Finn said.

Logan’s heart jolted. “Home?”

“To your place, I mean.”

“Oh.” God, he’d thought Finn meant Gryffindor. He thought he would have to go to sleep alone tonight thinking about Leo. “Oh. Good.”

Finn smiled a little. “Home’s wherever we three are together.”

“I thought you meant you were leaving.”

“Not a chance.”

“You have your key?”

Finn nodded. He looked so tired. It was going to break Logan’s heart. “Yeah, we got it. Go celebrate, okay? Really, I’m not kidding. Have fun. It’s okay. It is. I love you so much, we both do, go celebrate and have fun. I want you to.”

Logan touched his face, the scruff there, the beginning of a try for a long play-off run—one that should have been longer than this. He leaned up and kissed the coarse stubble on his jaw, then then corner of his mouth, and then Finn turned into his kiss with a hand on his lower back.

“I love you,” Logan said.

Finn took his hand and kissed his knuckles, the fresh cuts from fighting Kota. “See you at home. Okay? Doesn’t matter how late it is, wake me up.”

“Tell Leo I love him.” Logan kissed him quick again, then tried to leave but had to kiss him once more before finally turning back the way he’d come.

~

Remus could tell that his mom had given Julian a bit of a lecture before he entered the locker room. Maybe on not seeming too disappointed when he saw Remus. But Remus, after he’d bent down, could feel it in the tight grip of Julian’s hug.

“Sorry, Jules,” Remus said into his shoulder. He looked down at the 6 on Julian’s jersey. “I…I wish I could have done it for you.”

Julian just held him tighter, and when he didn’t reply Remus realized he was crying.

“Oh,” Remus said, a little surprised. He rubbed Julian’s back gently. “Oh, Jules…”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m—didn’t mean to cry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, this sucks, I know.”

Julian pulled back and Remus was relieved to see that the tears were soft, not truly upset. More overwhelmed. Still, the catches in his voice took Remus right back to Julian crawling into his bed. To a baby Julian. His baby, that’s how he felt sometimes. He reached up to wipe a thumb across Julian’s cheek and laughed when Julian swatted half-heartedly at his hand.

“I just really wanted it for you.” Julian huffed. “Like—I really want everything for you.”

Remus looked away briefly, at his parents, standing just behind them. Hope put her hand against her chest. Julian’s words made them smile at each other, despite it all.

“That means the most,” Remus said around a thick throat. “That means…the means more than anything else, thanks, bud.”

Julian fiddled with one of the straps of Remus’ shoulder pads. “At least we’ll get to hang out more now.”

“I mean, it’s not like you need to help me get married or anything.”

Julian laughed a little. “Oh jeez. I forgot.” He looked over to Sirius. “That was a really good almost goal, Sirius.”

Sirius’ smile didn’t come as easily as Remus’ but it was there. For Julian, it was real. “Thanks, Jules.”

“I wanted this for you, too,” Julian said.

“Ditto.”

They looked up to see Regulus there, in Sirius’ jersey still. His hair was buzzed short—Remus had been surprised when he’d first seen it, but it suited him. It made his jaw sharper, his grey eyes vivid under thick brows.

“Some luck charm you are,” Sirius said half-heartedly, but he rose from his stall.

Remus watched the two of them hug, watched the way Regulus, maybe without completely realizing it, tucked his chin into Sirius’ shoulder in just the same way Julian had.

“Bien?” Regulus asked softly.

“Non,” Remus heard Sirius say. “Mais ouais.”

No but yes. That sounded about right to Remus’ ears.

“Hi,” Remus sighed with a smile, pushing himself up to greet his parents.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Hope pulled him into a tight hug, and Remus felt his dad’s hand on the back of his head. “You were incredible, you know that.”

“Thanks,” Remus said hoarsely. He let himself lean a little harder into his mom’s arms.

It was a blur after that, mostly. Getting dressed. Getting back to their hotel. Saying goodnight and his mom promising to take them out to a late, late breakfast—even though Remus knew both Sirius and himself most likely weren’t going to be able to sleep that much. He was exhausted but adrenaline coursed through his veins, hot and alive.

In the room’s kitchenette, Remus listened to his family’s final footsteps out the door as he flicked the burner on for tea. He turned back to the glossy hotel kitchen island to find both Black brothers sitting there, looking at him.

Regulus cracked a small smile. “Just making sure neither one of you is going to go break into MSG and skate back the game or something crazy like that.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius said in French.

“Hey.” Remus took down two mugs. “Point taken.”

Regulus raised his eyebrows at the mugs. “Two? Is that you telling me to fuck off?”

“Yeah,” Remus said with a smile.

Regulus looked at his brother. “Re said it nicer.”

Sirius, who was slumped with his cheek in his palm, merely shrugged. Regulus’ smile faded as he looked at his brother. Sirius looked tired. Like he had been lifting something heavy and didn’t know how to hold himself without its weight.

Then, to Remus’ slight surprised, Regulus wrapped an arm around Sirius’ shoulders and pressed his forehead against Sirius’ temple.

“D’accord,” Regulus said softly. “Je t’aime.”

And then he was gone, the hotel door closing with Sirius left blinking after him.

Remus watched him go, too, feeling warmer than before.

“Sweet,” Remus said softly, and Sirius just looked down at his hands, rubbing over his dry knuckles.

When the water heated, Remus poured the tea—chamomile—and settled on the stool that Regulus had occupied. Sirius looked down at the mugs, then at Remus.

“I know, I know,” Remus sighed. “I don’t think it will actually make us sleep, but we can pretend.”

Sirius didn’t reply. He pressed his hands around the warm mug, staring down into the steam rising from the cup. Remus let him be quiet. He let them sit. They would talk when they both felt like they could.

“Re,” Sirius said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“Une promenade? Avec moi.” Sirius asked.

“A walk?” Remus asked.

Sirius hummed his affirmative into a kiss to Remus’ temple. Remus closed his eyes when Sirius inhaled, breathing him in. 

What else was there for Remus to do but nod?

~

Leo and Finn moved quietly around Logan’s apartment. Leo sat down on the couch, but didn’t know what to do once he got there. He watched Finn take off his sling—he’d taken to doing that recently. Finn went to the refrigerator and returned with two glasses of water, plus a bottle of gatorade for Leo.

“Comfy?” he asked, which was Finn’s way of asking if he wanted to put sweatpants on. When they had first started living together, it had also been Finn’s way of asking if Leo would rather stay in than go out. Comfy? he’d ask, and they would go and change—sweatshirt and sweatpants—and return to the living room together, smiling and each with their own book in hand.

How did I get so lucky? Leo would think, and then, a second later, How am I supposed to survive loving you?

Now, Leo accepted the gatorade and downed half the bottle in one go.

They walked into Logan’s closet, which had morphed into their shared closet lately. Leo thought of their rooms back in Gryffindor. When was the last time Leo had walked into his own, old, abandoned room? He couldn’t remember. He preferred Finn’s. Finn’s was his.

Leo pulled his suit jacket and pants off, pulled sweatpants on. He was starting on the first button of his shirt when Finn put a hand out.

Leo looked at those soft brown eyes. Finn was his.

“Thanks,” Leo said. His voice sounded odd, like he hadn’t spoken in ages. It wasn’t true. He’d been forced through interviews. God, he never wanted to see those recordings. He never wanted to see what his face had looked like, answering any of those questions. What happened? What’s next? And it was Tremblay who—

“T-shirt or?”

“Yeah,” Leo said, and let Finn push his shirt from his shoulders. Finn turned to their suitcases, messy on the floor, and reached for one of his own t-shirts. Harvard Men’s Ice Hockey it said. Soft and worn and faded gray and red. Leo’s favorite. Leo wanted to comment on the way Finn reached up to slip it over his head—it probably hurt his healing shoulder—but Finn didn’t flinch. He just kissed Leo’s cheek, let his mouth linger there for a moment, and then turned back to the suitcases.

Leo stood there, hands twisted into the t-shirt’s hem. Finn straightened back up, holding a shirt for himself. Some pressure cracked in Leo’s chest. It felt like tears, but they didn’t come.

“I’m gonna go home with my parents,” he said into the small space.

Finn froze. The muscles in his bare back tensed, the t-shirt he was holding bunching in his grip.

“For—” Leo’s voice broke. “For a little bit.”

Slowly, Finn turned around and Leo had to look away. He reached for socks, head down.

“It’s just been—like, a lot of things have been happening. I’m just—I’m gonna go home for a bit.”

“Le,” Finn breathed.

Leo closed his eyes and flipped the top of his suitcase closed. “I’m—I’m sorry? I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what he was doing when he turned out of the closet, leaving Finn there. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. He sat back down on the couch, heart pounding. Finn didn’t follow him out right away. Maybe he was trying to give Leo a second. Maybe he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he was upset. He’d lost too, tonight. Leo almost had to remind himself since Finn hadn’t been on the ice. But all of Finn’s season was just as over as his own.

He wondered where Logan was right now. A cool, summer-night roof top? A sticky-tabled bar? Someone’s apartment? Someone’s house just outside of the city?

He felt the couch dip beside him, caught Finn’s soft red hair out of the corner of his eye.

“Le?” Finn’s voice was so gentle that Leo had to look at him.

He had his glasses on now, but he took them off as he sat down and put them on the coffee table. Leo stared at them. He loved the way they looked, waiting for Finn to pick them back up again.

“Don’t be sorry,” Finn whispered. “That’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Leo kept his eyes on the glasses. “I…Yeah. I know.”

More silence. Finn reached out and rubbed a gentle thumb over Leo’s knee.

“I know that Lo’s sort of spoken for,” Finn began. "For who knows how long, but—would you…would you want me to come—”

Leo shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Not right now, but I love you.”

Finn sat up more and Leo watched his thumb on his knee. Bitten nails, sweet, brown-sugar freckles on the back of his hand. Leo never thought he was going to get to have him. It still hit him with a wave of happiness, even now.

The thumb paused. “You might find Lo in your suitcase anyway when you unzip it.”

“Play-offs.”

“I know.” Finn leaned forward and kissed his temple softly. Leo closed his eyes and a tear escaped without his permission. “I know, I was just joking.” A beat passed. The thumb, maybe the same one from his knee, passed over his cheek. “You might find me in your suitcase.”

“Finn.”

“Okay.” Finn kissed his temple again. “Okay…”

More silence. Leo didn’t know what to say when Finn was quiet.

“Well…Hey.” Finn paused. “Le, look at me.”

Leo did, and Finn’s eyes were all worried and calculating, trying to work out a way to make it better. Finn liked that, Leo had learned. He liked to snap his fingers and make it okay. It got hard for him when he couldn’t.

“Are you sure you…” Finn gave his head a small shake. “I just mean I’ll miss you. I thought…you know. We’d be cheering Logan on, of course, but even more we’d get to just hang out. We have so much time now.”

“Finn,” Leo said, pleading. “Don’t make me feel bad.”

“Oh, no, baby.” Finn sat forward more, palm warm on Leo’s thigh. “No, no, I just…I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just meant I’ll miss you. I’m not trying to, like, corner you, I…”

Leo put his hand over Finn’s and Finn groaned and dropped his forehead against Leo’s shoulder for a moment before looking at him again. “If I can’t make you feel better, what am I good for?”

Leo shook his head. “This isn’t on you, sweetheart. This is just something I want right now. I need the heat. And the water. And the streets I used to walk. And my mama’s kitchen and boat rides and—”

“But I could be there if you need—”

“I need hockey to not be right in front of me for a second,” Leo said firmly. “And it kills me to say it, but Logan’s in the thick of it and you’ll be in the thick of it with him. And I’m not saying forever, just a week or so, I…” Leo closed his eyes briefly. He took Finn’s hands in his own. “Baby. You’re not listening. I love you, but you’re not listening to me.”

Finn looked like he was going to protest again, but he kept his mouth closed. He closed his eyes and gave a short nod.

Leo hated this. He hated that look on Finn’s face.

“No one knows what I need like you do,” Leo said. “No one knows what I love, no one listens to me like you. No one. But right now, I need something else, we… We lost Logan for a second there.”

Finn’s eyes darted away. He nodded.

“And then the person who hurt me most in this world showed back up in my life,” Leo continued. “Then I had to watch you lay unconscious on the ice because of him, because of me, and I had to sit there not knowing what to do while Logan seemed to know exactly what to do. I’ve never felt like I had to fight through your guys’ history before. The biggest mentor in my life retired, and the play-offs are finished and it was with me in goal.” Leo cupped Finn’s cheek, smoothing a thumb over his freckles. “And I love you both so much. But I need to be in the home that came before my home with you.”

Finn was nodding, and nodding, like he was trying to convince himself that he understood. That it was okay. He rubbed his palms over his face for a moment, and when he looked up again it had made his cheeks red.

“Just…don’t leave tonight,” Finn said. “Please?”

“Tonight?” Leo shook his head, brushing Finn’s hair back from his face. “Honey, I was never gonna leave tonight.”

“Oh. Oh, good, okay.”

Leo leaned forward and kissed Finn once, then twice. “Can I…” He pushed himself up to put a knee on the couch between Finn’s, and Finn opened his arms. “Your sling?”

“I’m allowed to be without it for a bit,” Finn said, and pulled Leo in. “I’d rather feel you.”

The entire world felt quiet and still like that. Finn’s fingertips running up and down Leo’s spine like soft drips of water. They had been laying there for maybe a half hour when, in the quietest voice, so soft, so god damn soft that Leo almost didn’t hear him, Finn said, “You’ll come back.”

Leo hesitated, trying to figure out if he’d heard right, then looked up at him. “What?”

Finn’s arms tightened around him, but he looked away towards Logan’s dark balcony. “No, nothing.”

Leo wasn’t convinced. Finn hadn’t said it as a question exactly, and most of Leo knew that Finn would never have to ask that, but the fact that it had slipped out…

Finn let out a breath through his nose. “No, I—I know you will. I just…I didn’t expect…I’m not making you feel bad, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that, I know this is—”

“Finn…” God, Leo thought. Oh, Finn. So much of Logan’s old torment was in those words and Leo, in all honestly, was glad they had finally been said. “Yes. Yes.” He turned in his arms to hold him properly, to look at him. He nodded, keeping those brown eyes on him. “Yes, I’m coming back.”

“I’m not telling you to stay,” Finn said quickly. “I just meant that I’ll miss you while you’re away doing what you need to do. And I want you to do what feels right. I just meant—fuck, I mean—I just mean that I want you to…know that I will miss you. It’s not that I don’t understand…Yeah. Yeah.”

“I’m coming back,” Leo repeated. “We’re both always going to come back to you.”

Finn’s slow nod didn’t disturb their quiet or their still. It was like it had molded around them, keeping them safe from that cold crush that had happened on the ice. Leo still felt it. The tingling awareness of a puck hitting the back of his net.

“You too,” Finn whispered. “Lo and I love you a lot, Le. Nothing would be the same without you.”

Leo closed his eyes, letting the warmth of that rush over him. He let it erase everything else, just for now.

Finn pressed a kiss to his forehead, then to his neck.

“Finn,” Leo whispered. “Finn, I want…”

It was a question-not-question of his own, and it was all he needed to say before Finn was nodding again, hand against Leo’s cheek.

“Me too.”

They moved back into the yellow light dim of Logan’s bedroom, unable to part. Leo didn’t have it in him to protest the fact that Finn still wasn’t wearing his sling. He wanted so badly to have nothing but Finn’s skin against his. A weak protest made it out of his mouth in the form of Finn’s name, but it had sounded like nothing but a wish for him to come closer. Finn just hushed him, and wrapped him up close, and Leo could have cried. It had been so long since Finn could hold him this tight, and maybe it hurt but Leo made sure to find his good shoulder to let his head rest heavy on as Finn kissed his neck. Finn’s warm hands spanned up and down his back and he pressed a kiss to the dip of his spine.

They moved back into the yellow light of Logan’s bedroom, unable to part. Leo didn’t have it in him to protest the fact that Finn still wasn’t wearing his sling. He wanted so badly to have nothing but Finn’s skin against his. A weak protest made it out of his mouth in the form of Finn’s name, but it sounded like nothing but a wish for him to come closer. Finn just hushed him and wrapped him up close. Leo could have cried. It had been so long since Finn could hold him this tight. Maybe it hurt but Leo made sure to find his good shoulder to let his head rest heavy on as Finn kissed his neck and whispered soft words to him. Finn’s warm hands spanned up and down his back and he pressed a kiss to the dip of his spine.

It was Louisiana heat, Finn’s touch. Leo was burning from the inside out, centering at his hips and radiating outward like sun warming up a room. Leo’s mouth was open and panting, sweat sheening over his chest. Finn’s breath was shaky, and Leo could picture the way he tilted his head back. His hands took Leo’s hips, guiding, and Leo settled back on his knees more, his back snug against Finn’s chest so Finn could wrap his arms tightly around Leo’s waist and tuck his nose against Leo’s neck as they moved together. Leo reached back to fist Finn’s hair and turned his head. Finn didn’t hesitate in kissing him, sound and slow.

Leo let the weight, at least for now, slip away.

[jimpixj]

Hello there! I have arrived with FANART:

Aaawww! Shattered in his under the weather sweater!

[fruitcoops]

Slowburn

Fic O'Ween Day 12: Goosebumps, with part five of the firefighter/ EMT AU! Coops, Leo, and Layla belong to @lumosinlove, fest header belong to @noots-fic-fests!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

TW extremely brief mention of bodily fluids (one sentence at the beginning)

Five hours and forty-four minutes. He had been bled on, puked on, grabbed, yelled at, and nearly toppled. His only spare pair of pants was now bound up in a plastic bag. Miracle of miracles, Sirius’ shirt was the only thing that hadn’t been damaged in the miserable afternoon. It made a great undershirt. It would also need to be washed at least four times before he could even dream of returning it.

Layla stared at a spot above his shoulder in the opposite jumpseat. One side of her eyeliner had been completely smudged away; the other, smeared sideways to her temple in a smoky trail.

“Nice job today.”

“Thanks.”

“That was a lot.” Layla nodded mutely. His heart pulled for her, a little bit. Even if their cases had been run-of-the-mill, nearly six hours of back-to-back calls would wear anyone down. He nudged the tip of her shoe with his own. “You’re learning fast. I saw some good work out there.”

“I’m…” She blinked slowly, then shook her head. “Wow, I think I fell asleep sitting up for a minute.”

“It happens.” In time, she’d learn to sleep wherever she could catch it. “When does your shift end?”

“Seven.”

“Almost done, then.”

“Mmm.”

The ambulance went over a bump, rattling the near-empty shelves and bashing Remus’ tailbone against the back ledge. “Sorry!” Leo called through the small window to the cab.

He had mostly given up hope that he’d see Sirius in the next twelve hours. His shift wasn’t over until midnight, and Sirius’ started at six the next morning. If he made time between his dentist appointment and calling his parents, he might be able to stop by in the afternoon, but it would be a stretch if he wanted to get any laundry done. And, Christ, that was a chore he couldn’t delay for another week. He liked those pants. More importantly, he now knew just how much Sirius liked them.

Something stirred in his belly at the thought. Warm hands cupping his ass and sliding over his flanks with astonishing care. Sirius had felt him up enough that he could probably make a Model Magic version of Remus’ body on touch alone—and wasn’t that a thing to picture. Somewhere between rounds two and three, Remus remembered kissing the backs of Sirius’ thighs. Pale skin and dark hair above the bare, sensitive bend of his knees. They slotted so well in his palms. Sirius had looked like glory itself when he peeked over his shoulder to look.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Remus jumped. “What? Nothing. Sorry, nothing, why?”

“You’re all frowny.”

Thank god for that. “Just…the day.”

A vague and reliable excuse. Layla snorted. “Tell me about it.”

There will never be a day when I tell you about this. Remus hoped his laugh didn’t come out too strained. “Seriously.”

They took the next turn a little wider, sending their final two ointment boxes sliding out of place. He fixed them blindly while the city center rolled past through the back windows. Did Sirius still have scratch marks on his upper thighs?

Another bump knocked the thought from his head. “We’re home,” Leo singsonged from the driver’s seat. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the showers, wondering why I chose this life path.”

“Mood,” Layla mumbled.

“I’m also Grubhubbing a sundae, and you can’t stop me.”

One of the last functioning neurons in Remus’ head lit up. “Get me one.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Get your own.”

“I’m your boss.”

“You make more money than me.”

“Yes, let me flaunt my extra fifty cents an hour,” he countered dryly. “Every night, I rub my quarters together, just to flex on you. That beautiful sound of a handful of nickels.”

“…I’ll see what they have.”

“Good rookie.”

He didn’t wait for the ambulance to stop before opening the doors. The familiar ka-chunk of the lock coming free was music to his ears—a sweet, sweet anthem of freedom, the promise of a lukewarm cup of coffee and a maybe-stale donut from the break room.

And Sirius.

Sirius, sitting on one of his packed and labeled inventory bins.

Remus stared.

“Remus?”

“Go ahead,” he said absently. “I’ll catch up.”

Layla hopped out with a groan. Six hours was a long time to be up and down. Remus was sure his feet would ache the same when he stood. If he stood. Sirius’ hair stuck up at the back, like he’d been running his hands through it.

Remus loved when he did that.

He just. He really did like him, quite a lot.

Keep me.

What had he been thinking? Six hours was a long time to wait. He had told Sirius he’d be right back. It was his day off; why hadn’t he left after it was clear Remus wouldn’t return?

He supposed he could ask the same question about that morning. God, could it really only have been a few hours since he felt Sirius’ bare chest against his own? They had practically been spooning with how tight they were tangled in each other when he woke. Remus hardly remembered falling asleep, only aware of the pleasant ache in his muscles and the humming pleasure in his belly. Pure satisfaction. Pure comfort, at having Sirius hold him like more than a friend.

He watched Leo wander off. Sirius didn’t seem to have noticed. He didn’t so much as flinch when Remus stumbled off the rig and beelined for him, not until Remus stopped in front of him, unsure what to say. I want you I like you I’m sorry please kiss me again, I still get goosebumps thinking about the way your mouth tastes with adrenaline.

Sirius blinked up at him, full lips and glossy lashes. His bone structure was fucking criminal. “You’re back,” he said, so soft and sweet and genuinely happy that Remus’ stomach flopped over itself. Sirius stood, tucking his phone into his pocket without a second glance at it. He was just—big. And tall. And gorgeous. Remus now knew precisely how solid his chest was, and how nice it was to kiss. “Did you have a good day?”

Remus stepped forward and planted his face directly into that chest.

“Oh,” Sirius laughed. It vibrated against his forehead; he closed his eyes. Arms came up around him, hands settling at his nape and the small of his back. He knew he smelled awful. Sirius didn’t seem to care as a tentative kiss nestled on the top of his head and melted Remus’ insides out his throbbing feet.

He sighed. Sirius smelled all warm and spicy. Detergent, cologne, or simply the way he was? Remus couldn’t wait to find out. “This is nice.”

“Yeah.” The delight was back. Sirius pushed the breath from his lungs on a squeeze. “Yeah, it is. I like this.”

“I’m gonna kiss you,” Remus mumbled. “Gonna kiss you so good. Just…two seconds.”

“You can kiss me whenever you want.”

“Two seconds.” It was so dark in his new haven. Sirius’ lungs moved calmly, steadily. His heart rate was a little fast, but nothing to worry about. Remus let his ears go foggy and pressed closer, nuzzling into the space between his collarbones.

Sirius kissed the top of his head again, less hesitant this time, before resting his chin there. “Long day?” he asked after several seconds. Remus hummed. “Sounded like you guys didn’t get much of a break.”

“Mhmm.” He turned his head to the side and rubbed his cheek over Sirius’ sternum. He couldn’t count the number of times they had sat together on the couch or at the table or in the window seat, legs intertwined while they worked through their days. Separate snacks at first, then a single bowl to share once they knew each other’s favorites. It had been nice, to have someone there. Someone to talk to, someone to listen, someone who understood.

But this…this was so much better.

Sirius’ thumb stroked a short path along his spine. It zinged all the way into the base of Remus’ skull. “I sweated through your shirt,” he muttered, pushing his head further beneath Sirius’ chin. “After I stole it from you by accident. Sorry. I’ll wash it.”

He felt Sirius’ smile on his temple. “Keep it. Looks better on you.”

“Think I left mine at your place.”

“Guess you’ll just have to come back and get it,” Sirius whispered playfully. Remus couldn’t help a grin, raising his head despite the pounding drowsiness behind his eye—he had barely opened his mouth to retort when there were lips brushing his own, a wordless request. He granted it easily.

This was different than the rushed promise on the ambulance. Different than last night’s smoky, need-fueled passion. He let Sirius lead, tender and questioning, then pushed into it a little more. Have it, he tried to say. Take it all, it’s been yours for a while. The words may not work, but he was willing to bet Sirius would understand anyway. His lower lip was chapped on one side when Remus ran his tongue along the seam, giddy and dizzy with the kiss-buzz of chasteness.

“Hmm.”

That was good. It was all good, if Sirius would keep making noises like that. He brought his hands up to rest on narrow hips (marked with a tiny scar just above his thigh, which Remus was so fucking glad he knew now) and gave a little more, pushed a little harder. Sirius’ hand cupped his jaw and the right side of Remus’ brain powered down.

“Hm—wait, wait.”

His attempt to lick forward into Sirius’ mouth was stymied by sudden distance between them. Not far—he could still pick out each fleck of quicksilver in Sirius’ unfocused eyes—but far enough to be frustrating for the part of him that was enjoying turning his thoughts off. Remus went up on his toes for more, but Sirius pulled away. “What?” he whispered, though they were alone. “Did you—are you mad at me?”

“No,” Sirius said hurriedly. His hands soothed down Remus’ sides in a long drag that sent tingles through each cell. “God, no, I’m trying to—” His cheeks went a touch pink as he glanced around them and coughed lightly. “Uh, I’m trying to calm down.”

“Oh. Oh.”

Remus hadn’t even thought about that. He was pretty sure he was too tired for his body to consider arousal, aside from the inevitable spike of desire for a soft place to land for two to eight hours. Sirius’ mouth was so nice, his body so warm, that it was all too tempting to get lost in it.

Sirius’ tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. Well. Remus supposed he might be able to feel something other than pure exhaustion, if he tried. “What time do you get off?”

“Whenever you want me to,” Remus answered immediately, then felt himself redden at the arch of Sirius’ brows. “Fuck—sorry. Midnight. My shift’s done at midnight.”

The fingertips on his back had become an extraordinary distraction. Sirius looked almost shy, so at odds with the animated boy he knew against this backdrop that Remus wanted to memorize every inch of it. “Can I…” Sirius began, then trailed off as his blush darkened. His thumbs hooked around Remus’ hipbones and paused there, lingering on bare skin. “Can I maybe take you to dinner? Or a diner?”

“At midnight?”

“I know a couple places.”

Remus frowned. “You have work tomorrow.”

Sirius gave a sheepish half-shrug. “We could nap together. Today, I mean. If you want.”

“I smell horrible.”

“You smell fine.”

“I’m soaked in dry sweat.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I—” That was it for excuses. That was all he had. Every defense against Sirius was dust in the wind. He smiled, and stood on his toes again to kiss one scruffy cheek. “Yeah, sounds good. Let me wash my face and grab some water. I’ll meet you in the bunks.”

Sirius’ eyes crinkled, and Remus fell for him all over again. “I’ll be waiting.”

[determunition]

Leshy and Poe are peak aspec solidarity hostility

i'm so mad, i saved this ask specifically for ace week and i was so busy i didn't finish my art for it in time arrrrgh

anyway you're absolutely right anon, these two have a bitter petty rivalry but will (begrudgingly) acknowledge at least one similarity between them lmao

now technically poe is ace but not aro, and leshy is aro but not ace, so they're actually quite different in orientation; regardless i think they still understand each other when it comes to certain universal aspects of the Aspec Experience, and would absolutely show up for solidarity before going right back into insulting each other's cardplay and shitty storytelling