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lumosinlove · 2 years ago

Text

Vaincre

cw: mentions of past abuse and injury

May Part One

Golden haze

“It’s fine, it’s just been acting up. A little. Just a little—not like—I can play. It’s just been hurting, just a little.”

Cole wished he could take back at least half of those words as Layla looked over her shoulder at him from the sink in the PT room. “Sorry, didn’t hear you, did you say just a little?” She smiled as she tore off a paper towel to dry her hands with. “Get that look off your face, I was kidding, C.”

Cole smiled, looked down at his knee. “Yeah.”

“Do you know how many of you come in here and say the same thing to me?”

Cole raised an eyebrow. “What do we say?”

“You tell me something’s wrong, first of all.” Cole watched her as she flicked some of her braids behind her shoulder, a few of the gold rings in them flashing in the harsh ceiling lights. “And then you tell me how little of a wrong it is.”

“Okay…”

“But then you tell me something’s wrong again. You know, in case I forgot.”

Cole smiled. “We’re that simple, huh?”

“Not at all.” She looked down at Cole’s knee, reaching out to hold around the cap of it gently. Cole noticed she’d removed her rings. “Because you know what my job is?”

“Helping us?”

“Nope.” She smiled. “Figuring out which part of the act you’re lying during. The hurt-hurt, or the just-a-little.”

“We sound difficult,” Cole said wryly.

“You are. You know who’s the worst?”

“Hm?”

“Remus.”

Cole laughed. “No. I don’t believe that.”

He winced a little at the movement of her fingers and she did it again before motioning him to bend it.

“Cross my heart,” she said.

“But he was—he was you. Shouldn’t he know better than to hide it?”

“Sometimes we become what we need. You know that expression?” When Cole shook her head she continued, reaching down to flex his ankle. “Planners need surprises, the care-takers need taking-care-of. Explainers need help.” She raised a shoulder. “PTs need to be told to rest when they’re hurt.”

“Loops isn’t hurt, is he?”

“Well, he’s got that shoulder of his.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the scar.”

Layla nodded. “When it comes to putting metal in, or pins…Stuff like that never really goes away.”

“Guys like to trade stories,” Cole said, and gestured to his own cheek, where he had a nasty scar from a puck just on the underside his chin. He’d been young (younger, Thomas would have said. You’re still young, Twenty.) and stupid and hadn’t let it heal well. “You know, about scars and stuff. But not Loops. I asked once.”

“Well…it’s not just a scar, I guess.” Layla said. “I mean, it was career ending. For a long time. It’s probably painful to talk about.”

“It happened in college, right, I know,” Cole said, and then, after a moment, “you ever notice how much he hates Grayback?”

Layla looked over at him. “Easy guy to hate.”

“Yeah, but, I was just thinking about it because we’re up against them in the first round. And one time we were all at lunch—beginning of the season—I mean not all of us, some of us. Anyway, sorry. Anyway, and I said this thing about how good Grayback was and everyone, like, froze up. I remember because I felt so awkward after. And then when we matched up with Vegas this season, there was all this…I don’t know, they all hate him. Like Cap, Thomas, Tremzy, all they wanted to do was fight him and Loops kept telling them not to.”

“Well…Okay?” Layla said. “And?”

Cole scooted forward on the examination table. “I’ve watched the clips, though.”

Layla unlaced his shoe, sliding it off easily before straightening his leg and flexing his foot. “God, you really are a tape-junkie, huh. How’s that feel?”

Cole shrugged, as if it were a given. “Hurts a little. Not gonna lie. But—anyway, Loops was incredible, even in his last game, and then he gets hit—by Grayback.”

“Grayback? I thought they were teammates.”

“They were,” Cole said. “Grayback hit his own guy. And it’s not a clean hit, it takes Remus a long time to get up, Grayback tries to play it off like an accident but then Remus doesn’t come back—at all. And that’s that.”

Layla frowned. “A hit?”

“Yeah,” Cole said.

“Remus’ injury isn’t…” Layla stood up, words trailing into a thoughtful expression.

“Isn’t what?”

Layla was quiet for a long moment, then waved a hand at Cole. “Take out your phone. Show me the clip.”

“It isn’t what, Layla?”

“I’m not talking about his injury with you, just show me the clip.”

Cole frowned but pulled out his phone. He tried to keep his breathing normal as Layla came to lean against the table next to him, their faces close.

He didn’t know what she was looking for, but Layla watched intensely, lined eyes narrowed at the screen. The video played it four times, and Cole winced at the third, and looked away for the last time, which was in slow motion. He didn’t like to watch the way a much younger Remus’ head snapped back when his own teammate, his teammate hit him a hard and high, mid-ice. It was unimaginable.

“What do they call it?” Layla asked, looking up from the screen. “Like actually, what do they call it when they say later why he hadn’t returned.”

“Upper body. They say it happened when Grayback hit him. Grayback even talks about it in a post-game interview, about how guilty he feels.”

“And Remus?” Layla asked. “What does he say after?”

“He didn’t,” Cole said. “He doesn’t say anything. They say he’s in the hospital recovering. And then he just…doesn’t recover.”

“He was going to go number one,” Layla said. “They didn’t follow up with him? How?”

“He was going to go number one,” Cole said. “And then he didn’t. People tend to move onto the next ‘great one’ around here. I know we’re all sitting next to Sirius Black and it seems like we couldn’t forget him, but if this had happened to Sirius…we would have.” Cole offered a one sided, sad smile. “It’s why this is so scary.”

“Hm.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Layla. It’s me.”

It’s me. What the hell had he meant by that? He didn’t have any reason to say that to her. They’d shared moments, of course, and they hung out with the Dumais kids, but they were rarely alone. They weren’t best friends or anything. They weren’t close in the way that he was becoming with his new teammates. Thomas, Olli, Jackson and, well, he had been getting a little close with Logan. He’d walked into the locker room the first day after his trade and was surprised to see how much he noticed he wasn’t there. Missed him, even.

But Layla was still someone he felt comfortable with. And that was pretty rare for Cole.

“I’m not telling you nothing because I don’t think I can trust you, I just don’t think we should speculate. That’s all.” Layla sighed. “Obviously, yes, something did happen. But it’s painful, and sounds complicated, and…” She gestured between the two of them. “Us? We’re the rookies. We haven’t been here.”

Cole paused. “Yeah. Sorry, yeah. I know. I don’t know why I’m…I think he only really talks to Thomas about it. I mean, Cap, of course, but Thomas, too.”

Layla shrugged. “Thomas is easy to talk to.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Cole said. “Um. Yeah. Thomas is, yeah.”

“Like…about how I’m your girl?” Layla asked, smile forming on her face.

Cole would have been happy to swallow his own tongue—even if he could tell she was also trying to change the subject on him. He had a vivid, horrible flash of shushing Thomas at the airport. “You…you heard that?”

“I don’t think Thomas Walker knows how to speak quietly.”

Cole sat up, not caring even a little about his knee now. “Oh my God. Layla—no, I never said that to anyone—”

But she just laughed. “Cole, I’m joking. Relax, you’re gonna pull a muscle or something. Lay down.”

Cole felt a little dizzy as he lay back and stared up at the white ceiling. He could feel AC coming in from the vent, lukewarm and needless.

“Why not?” Layla asked after a moment of prodding at his leg.

“What?” He didn’t dare look down at her. Was he sweating now? God, he was. Not that it would bother her but—but this wasn’t—this was different. This felt different.

“Why don’t you say I’m your girl?”

Cole let out a slow breath. “Layla…”

“I’m just messing,” Layla said. “Sort of.”

Cole did look at her this time. “Oh, so does it hurt-hurt or not-hurt?”

That made her laugh, really laugh, palms pressed to his thigh, and all Cole wanted was to do that again. To make her laugh like that again. Instead, he took a breath and tried for some honesty—even if it could hurt-hurt. He sat up again, letting her hands slide away from his leg as he faced her, still siting on the examination table. Layla was tall to begin with, and like this they were eye to eye.

“I thought you just saw me as…you know. The rookie. I know I’m not—like, outgoing.” His eyes darted away, then back, then away again. “Or—like so many of these guys can just hold the fucking room, you know? I know I’m quiet. And you’re not, you can talk to anyone you want, anywhere.”

Layla just looked at him for a long moment, long enough that he cleared his throat and laughed awkwardly, feeling his face get hot. When she reached out a traced a finger over the line he had shaved in his eyebrow, his heart all but stopped.

“Why don’t you come over tonight for dinner after the game. My apartment. You can even help me study if you want to.”

“You’re not at Dumo’s tonight?” he managed to say. Cole, secretly, loved when Layla was at the Dumais house with him. They never did anything—God forbid he ever be caught a situation like that by Pascal fucking Dumais—but they played with the kids, and ate dinner, and sat next to each other while the kids kicked up a fuss over what movie to watch. Held hands under the blanket sometimes, which was nice, but also sent half of Cole’s brain into a spiral of is my palm sweaty? Did I put deodorant on after practice? Did I Am I Did I Could I Should I—

“Nope.” Layla leaned a little closer. It put her right between his thighs.

Cole’s eyes dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes.They hadn’t kissed. It was game-day, her brown eyes were lined in black and gold, gorgeous against her dark brown skin. They hadn’t kissed. Yet?

“So, you have a big test tomorrow?”

Layla smiled. “Nope.”

“Are you just trying to torture me?”

“Yes.”

“Will we…study?”

“We’re going to cook dinner, Reyes.”

“Oh.” Cole smiled. “Yeah.”

“Yeah? Sound okay?” Her eyes dropped to his mouth, just for a moment.

Cole vaguely wondering if he was about to get that kiss. “Layla.”

“Reyes.”

“What do you need?”

Layla smiled at having her words given back to her, but gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t know yet. Patience, I guess.”

Cole nodded. “Yeah.” He could be that. “Okay. Dinner, then.”

“How does the knee feel now? Think you can play Vegas?”

“I can play.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. No hurt-hurt, just wanted some—uh, maintenance.”

Layla smiled. “Round one. This is my first ever NHL playoffs, you know.”

“Better make it a good one then. Just for you, of course.”

Layla laughed. “Yeah. Just for me.”

“Round one, baby!” Thomas’ voice echoed through the locker room but Remus barely heard it. He’d seen the Golden Knights arrive on twitter, and was pleased to find that he didn’t have that same rattled feeling that he had grown used to settling in his chest at the very sight of Grayback. It wasn’t a triumph exactly. He still never looked directly at his scar in a mirror. When he woke up on especially cold days to it aching and stiff, the frustration burned up in him just as strongly as before. But the sight of Grayback’s face didn’t turn his stomach anymore.

“Home ice advantage,” Sirius said as he and Thomas high-fived, and Remus looked up at them. He watched the way Sirius smiled and laughed easily at something Thomas had said. He wouldn’t have done that last year. Sirius would have been zeroed in so hard it hurt.

“Do you notice,” Sirius said to Remus across the empty stalls between them. “That I am not asking if you’re okay every two seconds?”

Remus laughed. “Yes. I noticed. But in case you were wondering…I am. Really.”

Sirius smiled, pressed a kiss to his fingers and then reached it out towards Remus, only for it to be intercepted by Thomas, sitting down in his stall. He grabbed Sirius’ hand and pressed it against his own chest.

“Wow, thank you, Cap, I needed that.”

Sirius just rolled his eyes.

“Hey, that was for me,” Remus said.

“Intercepted.”

They both looked up when the locker room door open, only for Finn to come in, followed by a camera and holding a microphone.

“Merde, not one of these.” Sirius sank back into his stall. “Isn’t the Showtime thing enough?”

Remus laughed. “I think the Showtime documentary is going to be a little bit higher in quality. This looks like it’s just to torture you a little bit extra.”

“Hello and welcome to the room where it happens,” Finn said to the camera brightly. “This is an episode of In The Lion Den, and it’s me, hi, Finn O’Hara. We’re gonna ask the boys some playoff related questions and…” Finn smiled as he looked around behind the camera. “They’re all hiding from me now because I said that. Hey, Knuter-butter. Yeah, yeah, yeah, here I come, baby.” He did a mock little jog towards Leo.

“No,” Leo said, and Remus laughed as Finn sat down in his own stall beside Leo’s anyway, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Hello, lover.” Finn grinned, and Remus had the briefest flash of alarm before he remembered. He caught Sirius’ eye, who smiled.

“Look at me,” Finn was saying, giving Leo a jostle. “Bothering a goalie before a game.”

“Kasey’s in,” Leo said pointedly.

“So, what you’re saying is I’m allowed to bother you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Great. So, Leonardonius. Tell us…” Finn looked down at the card in his hand. “Tell us your favorite pre-game meal.” Finn sent a smile to the camera. “I know this one.”

“Say it at the same time,” Leo said.

Finn laughed. “Okay, yeah. Okay, three, two, one, pasta with chicken and peppers—yes.”

“Yes, you know me so well,” Leo said, then mockingly rolled his eyes at the camera.

“Oh, but I do.” Finn ruffled Leo’s hair—and friendship still lingered in the gesture. Remus remembered breaking that habit, especially in public. It was hard. It was working against forced instinct. Finn seemed to remember at the last moment, and let his hand cup the back of Leo’s neck briefly as he looked back down at his cards. “Okay, next question—especially interesting one for a goalie. If you could score a goal with any one of your teammates—I assume that means playing on the same line, then?—Who would you choose?”

Leo saw the opportunity and took it. He looked up, as if thinking hard. “Hmm…”

Finn bonked the microphone on his own forehead as he seemed to force himself to be quiet for as long as he could. Finally, he broke with a huff. “Really? Really? I am sitting right here.”

“I can see that, I’m just thinking.” Leo’s smile was playing around his mouth, his fingers messing with Logan’s necklace around his neck. “Hmm, let’s see…how about…”

Finn leaned forward, as if trying to block Leo’s view of the rest of the room.

“Let’s go with…” Leo said, looking at Finn now and grinning, their noses close together. “Bliz.”

Finn scoffed, pressed his palm over Leo’s face and pushed it gently away, making Leo laugh. “Bye, Knut. Captain!”

“Non,” Sirius said, and was out of his stall before Remus could blink.

“Oh, come on, Black!” Finn called after him. “No fun!” He sighed and looked at the camera. “Sorry, guys. But I guess we all know his superstitions, right?” Finn pointed at Remus. “Right, Lupin?”

“Mhm,” Remus hummed noncommittally, bending down to tape his sock.

“All right, Loops,” Finn said. He slid into the empty stall to Remus’ right. Remus sighed but smiled, crossing his arms.

“Yes?”

“What, you don’t want to talk to me?” Thomas asked, pressing an offended hand to his chest.

“You’re next, T, you’re next.” Finn cleared his throat. “Okay, Loops. Let’s see…” He scanned his cards. “Do you have a prediction for how many games this series against Vegas is going to go?”

“God no,” Remus said. “Why would I ever say something like that out loud?”

“T?” Finn held the microphone out to Thomas—much too close to his mouth.

“Can you back that thing up?” Thomas said. “Yes, thank you.” He looked right at the camera. “Hello. What is it thou beith my question?”

“Same question.”

“I’m not answering that in a thousandth of years. Next.”

“Fine. What’s the most important thing you do before a game?”

“Call my girlfriend.” He winked at the camera. “What’s up, Christmas?”

“Daww,” Finn laughed. “Very cute. Logan Tremblay’s sister, for those who don’t know.”

Thomas held out a fist. “Gotta love those Tremblay’s, eh?”

“Tell me about it,” Finn said, and bumped his own fist to Thomas’.

Remus laughed loudly, drawing the camera onto himself, only for it to follow his gaze to where Sirius was peaking his head back around the corner. “Is it safe?”

“Cap, come here.” Finn slapped his own thigh. “Come here, sit on my knee and let me tell ya a story.”

“Non.” Sirius did walk back into the room, though. He wasn’t dressed yet, still in only his leggings and shorts. Remus took a moment to admire the way the 12 pendant glinted against the strong muscles of his chest.

Finn held up a finger. “One question! One.”

Sirius sighed but let Finn jog up to him. He plucked the question card out of Finn’s hand and scanned them quickly before pointing. “Only that one.”

Finn snorted, sent the camera a look. “Fine. Oh, come on, really? Okay, fine. All right, Captain, let’s see, which question shall I choose…ah. This question looks good. What is your preferred pre-game song choice?”

Sirius smiled right into the camera when he said, “I don’t listen to music before a game.”

Finn rolled his eyes, nearly tilting back his entire head. “How interesting. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Sirius said. He patted Finn on the back before going to take his place in his stall again.

The camera went around to a few of the other guys. Remus liked the little segments, it was funny to watch the guys having fun—Evgeni putting a sweaty towel over Finn’s head, Finn going back to ask Leo another question four times—but he was glad for the pressure to be relieved when the cameras turned off. The Showtime crew had been in and out for the last couple days, pulling them aside for interviews with a bright ring light and a guy sitting in a chair asking them questions. Cliff, his name was, or something like Cliff. It was tiring, though, choosing your words carefully. Sirius came back looking drained each time. Remus had stumbled on something-like-Cliff and his crew watching a playback of one of Sirius’ interviews. He hadn’t caught much, he hadn’t wanted them to notice him listening, but he’d heard enough to understand Sirius’ quiet, locked-up posture. How do you think your parents feel about having a two-time Cup champion in the family? That’s more than your father.

Remus could have killed them. Didn’t they fucking know better?

But, even still. When he’d asked Sirius about it, all he had said was, “It went fine.” Remus was still trying to figure out if this was a moment to push, or to let Sirius come to him.

He was glad, at least, that they were starting the playoffs on home ground. It was their people out there, a sea of red who held grudges just as fiercely as their Captain did. Not to mention, if there was one team that Gryffindor held a rivalry with that was equal to the one with the Snakes, it was Vegas.

He went through his routine. He found himself missing Logan while he was warming up on the bikes, wishing for his calm presence beside him. He missed the way Logan would check quietly that he was okay, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He stretched out on the mats with Thomas, and went into the equipment room to sharpen his skates one last time. He rubbed his thumb along the sharp, even blade after, and he did feel calmer. Ready.

Coach’s talk was brief—they were all playing well. Remus had a steady point streak that had ended last game, but he wasn’t worried about rekindling it. Finn had shaken off the stupor that Logan’s absence had tripped him into. Sirius was murderous around the net, Evgeni drew penalties almost every time they needed them. Thomas pinched in and cut off good plays—he’d do the same to Vegas. And Kasey. Kasey was fighting through his pain in a way that Remus, had he not known about it, wouldn’t have been able to see. It was the very thing they had agreed on hating most about hockey, but it was necessary. At least for now. Kasey was doing so well, though, and Remus couldn’t help but be thrilled about it, even if it did keep Leo on the bench more games than not. There was always a chance, and a rather high one, too, that Leo would, like last year, suddenly find himself in the starting slot.

Remus looked over at Kasey now, strapping on his pads, white and maroon, hair kept out of his face by a ball cap. He wanted these last games, Remus knew, no matter how many there were. It could be four. Could be seven. Or they could take this thing all the way to the end. Back to back Cups.

Sirius was in his usual place by the door soon enough, the cameras honed into every bit of encouragement he gave, every smile or head tap he delivered. He looked good and ready, helmet shading his eyes a bit, even with the extra lights the Showtime crew had brought. Sirius changed shapes, just a little, for each player he greeted. He didn’t become different exactly, but he was quieter with James—who was loud—and gave specific encouragement to Cole—who ate it up and would no doubt do his best to carry Sirius’ words through at some point during the game. Remus waited his turn behind Thomas, who jumped up to bump chests with Evgeni before tapping helmets with Sirius.

Remus felt it when the cameras went to his face. He didn’t like it, but he liked that they couldn’t control what he and Sirius gave them. It wasn’t the same as a press conference, where they had no control over some lame rookie-reporter asking whether or not they brought the game home, or brought home life into the game.

Remus held out his fist as usual, and watched Sirius shift into what he considered his Sirius. Smile lines and shoulders not as tall and broad, but curving down into Remus, chin ducking down, too, as if to put them into their own little bubble of space. People were always hoping for some sign of a divide between them, some slip up in their professional lives that they could somehow blame on their personal ones. But instead, they got this. Sirius Black, on a characteristically long hot streak right now, smiling gently down at Remus and bumping his hand over Remus’ heart.

“Okay,” Sirius said simply. Maybe they couldn’t help their smiles, but their words would stay their own. Remus knew what he really wanted to say, and he brought their visors together in a gentle knock.

“Let’s take this one.”

And just like that they passed each other, Sirius with a glove briefly on Remus’ back. Remus heard some cameras flash as Sirius followed him—man, did they love that shot of their numbers and names across their shoulders, one after another. How many times could someone take the same picture?

Remus could hear the opening video booming through the walls. A compilation of that season’s best scores. Black steals it right from between—Potter digging deep out in the high ice—Oh, what a pass from Tremblay to O’Hara—Kasey Winter, the Great Blizzard! Can’t drive through him, no sir! It gave him a jolt when he heard his own name. Lupin! It’s a power play goal!

He realized that his heart was pounding, and as they came out of the tunnel to spill onto the ice, the crowd went wild. The fact that this was real clicked into place all over again. He’d been realizing and re-realizing ever since he’d signed his NHL contract (with a pen that he kept in his bedside drawer and looked at sometimes.) He was a top six starter for a play-off team in the National Hockey League.

This was real, despite the face and number looming at him in gray and gold from across the ice. He no longer felt like he was skating out on the ice to play against Fenrir Grayback. He felt like he was going out, with his team, to play the Vegas Golden Knights.

Back here again, Lee! Good Lord, was the stadium this loud when you were a Lion?

Ha! Gryffindor fans have always been passionate. But all that goes to say, I’m no Sirius Black. There’s the Captain now, at the end of the line, as usual, behind Lupin. Falling into stride with his long-time line mate, James Potter.

Oh, I met his son, Harry, earlier. Adorable.

Did you? That kids gonna be trouble when he’s older if he’s anything like his old man.

That’s for sure. Welcome in to Game Night in Gryffindor everyone, as we begin game one of the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. The Lions take on Mark Stone and his Vegas Golden Knights tonight. These two teams have a lot of history, don’t they, Lee?

Oh, you can say that again. The highlight on your screen right now is just one of the nasty fights that have broken out between these two teams.

I wouldn’t so much call it a fight as Fenrir Grayback getting what’s coming to him. No doubt Lion fans still have some words for him tonight, leftover from last season.

Ha! Would you now?

The kid’s got a temper on him that’s for sure.

Can’t say you’re wrong about that. Should make for an interesting series. The Knights have been a sorry victim to injury this season. Grayback was out for almost a month with an upper body, a few other guys with lingering issues. We’ll see how they hold up against the Lions tonight, eh?

We will. The Lions have remained fairly healthy for the most part. We’ll see.

“Think he’ll try and say hello again?” Thomas asked as he and Remus dropped out of the skate around. Remus could feel a welcomed burn of warmth in his muscles.

It was a long road ahead, but Remus was familiar with those.

“Not if I can help it,” Remus said, sliding up to the boards for some water. He wanted the National Anthem to be done with already. He wanted the puck to drop. But he took his time looking over at the other side. His heart startled a little when he noticed one player, hovering near the center ice line. Grayback, he thought instantly, tensing up.

But no. It wasn’t Grayback. Grayback was by the goal, not even looking at Remus’ side of the ice.

Théo Angevine, number 8, was standing there, passing a puck to himself lightly between one side of his stick to the other. He glanced over at them once. Twice. Towards Sirius. When he noticed Remus’ gaze with his calm brown eyes, he turned away.

Sirius had never so much as mentioned Théo’s name before that story about his pre-game tradition. Remus’ heart tugged at the image of a small Sirius, gray eyes going wide at an act so simple as someone offering him half of a sandwich. Even more simple—that sandwich tasting sweet. So desperate for a bit of softness in his life that he would settle for just a taste of it. He never mentioned anything, really, that came before the Lions. His family. The most Remus had ever gotten about it was a sense of how horrible it had been, but that was mostly what he picked up from body language. He knew there had been physical abuse. He knew that he had been driven harder than a work horse. He knew Sirius’ darkest moment had been needing to leave Regulus behind.

It occurred to Remus that maybe it wasn’t only that Sirius didn’t mention it. Maybe Remus himself was too careful about not asking.

Sirius was a very carefully aligned person. The superstitions were only the tip of the iceberg.

“Jeez,” Thomas said, coming to stand beside Remus. “What are you thinking about with a face like that?”

Remus looked at him. He shouldn’t be thinking about this now. This was maybe one of the most important games in his career. And Sirius seemed okay. Joking around the locker room. He hated the Showtime interviews, that was all. He didn’t like cameras in the locker room, Remus could see that much. He’d kicked them out a few times already, claiming a player’s only meeting, only to sit back down in his stall and go about business as usual, only with his shoulders considerably more relaxed.

“Nothin’,” Remus said, then nudged Thomas. “The goal we’re gonna score tonight.”

“Excuse me, that would be goals, plural.”

Remus smiled. “That a promise?”

“Sure is.”

Remus just laughed, but he let his eyes wander back over to the Golden Knights. To Théo. He was skating mostly by himself, handling a puck deftly with his head down.

Sirius skated to a hard stop in front of him and reached up a glove to gently turn Remus’ face towards his own. Remus couldn’t help but smile. Sirius thought he was looking for Grayback.

“Eyes on me, mon loup,” Sirius said.

Remus tapped a glove to Sirius’ chest. “Always.”

“You know what I want to do?” Sirius said as he squirted some water into his mouth.

“Hm,” Remus said, eyes flicking momentarily back to the gray and gold jersey.

“I want to get a tattoo,” Sirius said.

Remus’ head wasn’t the only one that snapped towards him. Cole looked up, James and Thomas, too.

Thomas laughed. “All right, Cap.” He nudged Cole. “Me and twenty know a great place.”

“Tattoo…” James said from Remus’ other side, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “Should I also get a tattoo?”

“What?” Remus shook his head, caught off guard. “You want what? Of—of what?”

“Of my wedding ring,” Sirius said. He tapped his ring finger through his thick glove. “Can’t wear it while I play.”

Sirius said no more, just patted Remus’ helmet then skated away to trace the Gryffindor logo.

Finn leaned over from a few slots down the bench and whistled to get Remus’ attention before sending him a grin and a wink. “That’s what we boys like to call distraction.”

Remus stared at him for a moment, then laughed, looking back out onto the ice. Sirius was still looking at him, mouthguard hanging out between his teeth as he smiled.

“Yeah,” Remus said. “Right…”

Logan pressed his knee out in front of him in a stretch, forearms down on the matt and head bowed. His headphones were loud in his ears, cranking the playlist that he shared with Finn and Leo. They’d been finding things that helped close the distance, and Logan hadn’t thought Leo’s idea to share music would help much, but that was before his heart gave an excited kick each time a notification popped up that a new song had been added.

There was a scuff on his head, knocking his hat askew and getting his attention. Logan looked up to see Luke sitting down on the mat beside him. He pushed his headphones around his neck.

“Sup,” Luke said.

Logan shrugged. “Fucking Bruins.”

“Amen.” Luke got down into the same stretch. He had a blue sweatshirt on, and a backwards cap. His short brown hair stuck out over the adjustable bar. “The fuck is this? Pigeon pose, or something like that?”

Logan snorted and pushed up onto his palms, feeling the stretch on his core. “Ouais? Don’t know why though.”

Luke gave him a rare smile and tucked the ties of his sweatshirt away so they didn’t get beneath his arms. “So. We’re on the same line.”

“We were good in practice.”

They had been great in practice. It was the closest thing Logan could think of to playing with Finn. Not even playing with Sirius had felt that good. They were too similar, both too hungry for the puck. Luke was different. As soon as he had the puck, he didn’t try for movement like Sirius did. He was incredible at keep-away, though, and that bought him all the time in the world to asses which lanes were open, to see all of his options. Logan, like with Finn, was good at being just where Luke needed him to be. Plus, they were friends now. Logan hadn’t been sure in the beginning, but the second Logan had poked fun at him—just a little, testing the waters with a jab at the way he skated—Luke and given him a hard shove and went after him about his height. And that had been that.

“Yeah,” Luke said. “We were good.”

He sounded hesitant, though, which sent an entire new avalanche of worried, insecure thoughts through Logan’s head. The kind that came with new friends. Each step could feel like the wrong one—especially when you wanted that other person to like you. Logan had had those his entire life. It could be terribly difficult to remember to just be himself and not only try to please the other person. He’d learned a lot from Finn and Leo in that regard.

“Is that…okay?” Logan asked hesitantly. He almost hadn’t. He wasn’t sure he could handle it if the answer was no, at least not tonight.

“Yeah, of course,” Luke said. “I was just thinking…we could be playing your boys in the second round. If we win out against Boston.”

Logan arched a brow. “The Lions aren’t my boys anymore.”

“I know,” Luke said. “I meant your boys.”

“Oh.” Logan couldn’t help but smile. Your. “Right. Ouais, we could.”

“We’ll be playing for the Cup. Trying to knock them out.”

“I know,” Logan said.

“I just…I want to make sure…”

Logan turned to look at him. He paused the music that was still coming through softly from his headphones. “Are you asking me if I can play against them?”

“No. God, Jesus, no.” Luke shook his head. The wedge of green in his brown eyes looked especially bright tonight. “I’m just saying—I know it’s hard for you. I’ll like—I’ll be on the ice. I know we practiced it where you’re the one who takes shit to goal, but…I can get up the ice instead. If you ever need me to.”

Logan froze, then realized his leg was beginning to ache in this position and pushed himself up. Luke followed, brown eyes…amused, maybe.

“Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Sorry,” Logan said. “Sorry I said…I didn’t mean that you’d think I can’t…”

“It’s okay. I understand. The media goes after you enough for that storyline, you don’t need it from me. Normally it’s just guys switching teams. You’re just dumb enough to have fallen in fucking love with yours.”

Logan couldn’t help the laugh that startled out of him. It was still such a surprise, and so nice, to hear things like that in normal conversation. Percy leaning over the back of the bus seat and ask him which of his lover boys he was texting, and if it was Finn to type something strange and nonsensical like yellow hi!! Morgan asking what Logan was up to this summer, and if he wanted to bring Finn and Leo around to his place in Miami some time.

Logan had never had the chance to use the term we like this before. We’ll be in France for July, but what about August? We’re talking about training in New Orleans for a week or two. Or, when Zibanejad asked after his favorite restaurant in Gryffindor, we love this place called Sid’s, we’ll take you out some time.

We we we we we.

He was sure Finn and Leo were feeling the same, but the we that Luke was talking about was entirely different. There was the bigger we, the hockey we. The team.

We could be playing against Logan, had no doubt crossed Finn and Leo’s mind. We might have to take a Cup chance from Logan.

“Thanks,” Logan said. “Really. Merci, that means a lot.”

Luke just shrugged in his typical way that Logan was coming to interpret as meaning the same thing as a big smile from Leo, or a little shake of the shoulders from Finn.

“I just know it’d be hard,” Luke said.

Logan nodded. He was tempted to ask him about Saint, but he didn’t. He tried to picture someone, a new person especially, asking him about Finn or Leo before they had come out, and flinched. He wouldn’t ask. Luke would have to come to him.

“What?” Luke said, and Logan realized he had been staring at him.

Logan gave an imitation of Luke’s shrug and pulled Luke’s hat down over his eyes.

“You have resting bitch face,” Logan said.

Luke punched him in the shoulder.

Remus lowered himself into the metal tub beside Thomas’, filled to the brim with ice, and let out a shaky breath.

“One down,” Thomas said, flicking through his phone as the ice clinked softly around his body.

“How the fuck do you like these?” Remus could already feel his teeth chattering.

“It’s so relaxing, man,” Thomas said. “Gets the blood flowing, slows my heart, and I wake up good as new in the morning. Fucking love it.”

“My balls feel like they’re going to freeze off.”

Thomas tisked his tongue. “Accept the cold, Lupin. C’mon, you’re a child of real winters! Embrace it.”

Remus tried to relax his neck, to slow his breathing. “I want to embrace a warm towel.”

“Warm towel or warm Sirius?”

“Hm, both.”

Thomas just laughed and then turned his phone to show Remus a video of two puppies.

His body did manage to get more accustomed to it, after another few minutes. He felt his muscles release a little bit, or maybe he was just going pleasantly numb. He opened his eyes when Thomas sighed happily and put his phone down.

“How’s Noelle?”

Thomas grinned and reached up to pass some of the icy water of his head and face, the droplets dewing up like crystals in the tight black curls of his hair. It was the longest Remus had ever seen it, with shaved smooth edges by his temples but longer at the crown. “What gave me away?”

“The heart eyes,” Remus laughed.

“Her season’s over, she’s gonna come stay with me for the playoffs.”

“You guys thinking about moving in together?”

Thomas gave a wavering sort of nod. “Well, as much as we actually can. We lived together last summer but, you know. Different cities and all that.”

“Yeah,” Remus said.

“Wish I’d gotten you one tonight,” Thomas said. “Against Fuckrir Grumpback.”

Remus laughed. “Ah, right that’s his name. I’d forgotten. We have three more games to score.”

“Oh, three is it? Cocky.”

Maybe it made Remus sound a bit more sure than he actually felt, but he was okay with that. “Honestly, I didn’t even think about him that much tonight.”

“Yeah?” Thomas smiled. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Remus looked out over the rest of the recovery room. Kasey with some ice around his thigh, Layla talking softly to him. Finn and Evgeni walking in to tape up some jammed fingers. “Felt funny, though. Like I was forgetting something.”

“Pretty sure that’s something you’re allowed to forget, man.”

“Fuckrir Grumpback?” Remus snorted. “Yeah, I think I can forget him, too.”

Thomas threw his head back and laughed, settling back into the water.

Remus had closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the cold, which had surged back up into his senses again, when Thomas spoke in a low voice.

“Think Kase is gonna make it through?”

Remus had to fight down the urge to open his eyes too quickly. When he did, Thomas was looking at him. He seemed to be actually asking the question, not only posing it to see what Remus might say. His brown eyes turned sad.

“You know something,” Thomas said softly. “Don’t you.”

Remus didn’t say anything, and Thomas sighed but nodded. He looked over at Kasey, who was laughing at something Layla was saying to him.

“I feel like its changing,” Thomas said.

“What?”

“The locker room. You know? You can feel it happening sometimes. Especially after a Cup, that’s what guys say. First Logan. Kasey. God, probably Dumo soon.”

“That’s what happens,” Remus said.

“I know,” Thomas nodded. “God, I know, but I miss it. I miss, like, this time one year ago. I mean, other than you being on the team, of course.”

“You’re sweet,” Remus said wryly.

“But it was all—it was all beginning, it was all happening for the first time.”

“Why is that better?” Remus asked.

“What?” Thomas asked.

“Why is the first time better?”

Thomas smiled. “Are we going philosophical?”

Remus laughed. “Sort of. I mean, some first times are the sloppiest. You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.”

“Are you talking about sex?”

That made Remus laugh louder, and he splashed some water at Thomas. “I mean anything. You don’t know what you’re doing, you’re not good at whatever you’re trying to do, you’re scared…So, why’s it always feel so…”

“Shiny,” Thomas said.

Remus nodded. “Shiny. Why is it better?”

Thomas thought for a moment. “Not better, then. But there’s something different.”

“I guess I can agree to that,” Remus said, then looked up with a smile when Sirius walked through the door. “Oh, hi there, Mr. Top Shelf.”

Sirius laughed and crouched down beside Remus’ tub, dipping his fingers into the icy water. “Mr. Top Shelf?”

“Uh, yeah,” Thomas said. “Since when do you shoot high? Since tonight.”

“Since their goalie can’t get his hands up,” Sirius said, then leaned into kiss Remus softly. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Remus pressed a cold hand against his warm neck. “This sucks.”

“You’re getting out soon, embrace it!” Thomas said.

Sirius didn’t even jerk away from the touch. “Well, I’m sweating, an ice bath sounds pretty good to me right about now.”

Remus smiled. “Oh yeah? You getting in?”

“Not a chance—non, hey.”

Remus laughed and splashed him again, ice clattering onto the floor.

“Keep it in the tub!” Layla called from where she was guiding Kasey through some stretches.

“Sorry,” Sirius called back, before turning his attention back on Remus, tucking his fingers into his damp hair and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Gonna shower and get changed. Home in twenty?”

Remus nodded. He spent the moment that Sirius smiled back at him searching his face for any of the uneasiness that had been there at the beginning of the game, but it seemed to have dissipated with the win.

“Okay,” Sirius said, and Remus watched him walk away, fist bumping Cole on his way out.

“This is you,” Thomas said, and then slumped into his bath some more, gazing up at an imaginary Sirius, batting his eyes.

“Fuck off,” Remus laughed, and groaned as he pushed himself out of the tub.

The house felt quiet and warm, but it had the unsteadiness that came with the knowledge of an early flight the next morning. Remus watched Sirius dump a can of tomato sauce into a pan to heat up while the pasta boiled. Their bags were ready by the door—Remus’ doing. Really, they should have all been flying out tonight, but Remus was glad to be able to sleep at least a few hours in his own bed. He would have to let the adrenaline wear off first. He could see the very same coils of energy in the set of Sirius’ shoulders. It wasn’t unease, exactly. It was just the game.

Remus fiddled with the salt and pepper bowls they kept on the table. They had little spoons in them, as if made for fairy. He scooped the white grains up before letting them spill back down, over and over.

“I saw Théo,” he said, finally.

Sirius was quiet for a moment. He put a dish in the sink. “Ouais. Me too.” He glanced over his shoulder when Remus didn’t reply right away. “We’ve seen him before.”

“I know, but I didn’t—you know.” Remus scooped up the salt again. “I didn’t know before. And…I think maybe he looked at you a few times.”

Sirius’ release of breath was short. Maybe a little impatient—or he was just tired. “They all look at me.”

It was true enough, but it was still strange to hear Sirius say it. Even if his fame was blunt and obvious, Sirius rarely acknowledged it outright.

“You don’t want to talk to him?” Remus asked.

“Not—not now.” Sirius didn’t look at him, still had his back turned as he carefully spooned out a single noodle to test for doneness. “Not with Grayback on his team. Not with the playoffs.”

“Not with Grayback? What’s that mean?”

“It means…you know what it means.”

Remus switched to the pepper. Black and gray and red, more finely ground. The sound these grains made again each other was softer.

“I’m not worried about Grayback,” Remus said. “I told you that. I’m talking about Théo, and that story just sounded like it meant a lot to you—”

“Re, I’m over it. I don’t really think about it. I just told you that story, that’s it.”

Remus hesitated. The tension was back in Sirius’ shoulders now, and Remus was sorry to have put it there, but it was moments like these that Remus finally felt like he was getting a handle on. Moments where Sirius tensed up, but let something slip.

“You’re over what?” Remus asked.

Sirius let out a little laugh, tired and frail. “Re…”

“No, really, baby, over what?” Remus stood from the table, walking forward to the island to lean his elbows on it.

Sirius didn’t turn away from the stove. “You’re talking about Théo, fine, but you’re really trying to get me to talk about my parents. I know.”

Remus pressed his lips together. So, he was going to have to push, then.

“You don’t talk about them.”

Sirius made a dismissive gesture with his hand that was entirely something picked up from Pascal. “I’m over it.”

“Not thinking about it doesn’t mean you’re over it. And you—you don’t have to be over it, you just have to…like, you know…process it.”

“Process what?” Sirius turned around. His grey eyes were hard, the dish towel in his hands twisted tight. “That some kid was nice to me when we were little? I’m not that pathetic.”

“I never said that,” Remus said softly. “I just said you can talk to me about it.”

“I don’t like talking about it. I talk to Heather. I go to therapy. I’m better than I was.”

“I don’t really love talking about Grayback, either. I still told you. And I felt ten thousand times better tonight. Because you were there for me tonight. And you could only do that because you knew exactly what I was going through.”

“Re,” Sirius sighed. “Come on. Not tonight, okay? I don’t understand why you’re bringing this up.”

“Because of the Showtime thing,” Remus said. He walked around the kitchen island, pressing gently into Sirius’ space. Sirius let him, which was a good sign. “I know you don’t like the cameras in the locker room. And I know…I overheard them watching your interview. I know their questions got a little touchy the other day.”

Sirius shook his head and turned back around. He reached for the plate he’d already cleaned and ran it under the tap. “It’s fine.”

Remus reached out and turned the tap off. He took the plate out of Sirius’ hands and set it down.

Sirius sighed. They let the quiet of the kitchen settle around them again, with just the faint bubbling of the pasta and warmth of the steam interrupting them.

“I…I am much better with it,” Sirius said. “I am.”

“You are,” Remus nodded. “I know.”

“But…Ouais.” Sirius gave a little eye roll, as if he was annoyed with himself. “They stirred a few things up, I guess. That’s all.”

Remus pushed his hands into Sirius’ hair, carding his fingers through it the way he knew Sirius liked. Sure enough, Sirius let his eyes slip closed.

“It’s nice when it starts getting longer like this.”

Sirius’ smile looked young with his eyes closed like that. It looked like the first time Remus actually saw him smile, a real smile, all those years ago. “Oh yeah?”

“So I can do this.” Remus tightened his grip a little and angled Sirius’ head down to kiss him. Sirius made a soft sound into it, his hands smoothing over Remus’ shoulders.

“Don’t shut yourself in on me, baby,” Remus whispered into it, then kissed him harder.

Sirius smiled at that, pressed their foreheads together. “The hotel in Vegas has a pool.”

Remus laughed, surprised. “Okay?”

“Just came to me, I don’t know why.” Sirius cradled Remus closer, hands low on his back. “I…I don’t talk about it because I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to know what to say. Not with me.”

Sirius nodded slowly, then sighed and kissed Remus again. “Can I not know while we eat? I’m starving.”

Remus laughed. “Yeah. Go sit, I’ll finish it up.”

Leo stared down at his phone. He was half listening to what Finn was saying to him and Logan, who was on FaceTime with the iPad propped up against the pillows. Finn was walking around the bedroom, haphazardly packing. The sky was barely pink outside. Leo would usually have been anxiously helping him, and reprimanding him for not doing it sooner, but there was this. His phone.

“Alex is showing me this place,” Logan was saying, and then a name that Leo didn’t quite catch.

“Aw, no. I wanted to take you guys there.” Finn sighed and tossed a t-shirt in the direction of his bag and let out a big yawn. “Tell him thanks for nothing.”

Leo was still staring at his phone. At the text that had come in an hour earlier. He hadn’t opened it. The blue dot of unread still signaled beside the message preview.

Hey just got my first call up! Made me think of you. Hope…

“—right, Le?”

Leo looked up. Finn was looking at him and Logan was doing something off-screen—making breakfast by the sound of it. He was shirtless and looked soft and familiar in his in kitchen lights. Leo ached for him. He clicked off his phone and set it face-down on the bed by his own bag. “Sorry, what?”

“We’re not saying the Rangers should win anything,” Finn said. “But we’re not rooting for the Bruins, either.”

“Oh. Right, no, definitely not.”

Leo knelt on the bed before letting himself flop onto his stomach in front of the iPad, chin in his hands. The noise made Logan look up at the screen, and Leo got a perfect view of watching him smile. “You look handsome like that.”

“Without a shirt?” Logan laughed. “Yes, you have told me this.”

“No. Cooking.”

Finn laughed from behind him. “Pretty sure he’s buttering toast, baby.”

“I like it when he uses his hands.”

Finn tossed another shirt in. “Ooh, can’t argue with that.”

Logan smiled at Leo again, and made a grabbing hand at his screen. “Makes me want to smush your cheeks when you sit like that.”

“What are you actually making?” Leo asked.

Logan held up a piece of toast and laughed. “Toast.”

Leo smiled. “Do I still make it better?”

“Leo, you make everything better.” Logan glanced up at him again, through his eyelashes. His accent was thick with sleep. “There’s never any chance of that changing.”

“Good,” Leo said, then turned his head int he direction of Finn. “Hey, Fish, when’s our flight?”

“Do not passive-aggressively ask me when our flight is,” Finn said, and gave Leo a little smack on the thigh. “I’m disorganized but you love me anyway.”

“I do love you anyway,” Leo said, and turned to Logan. “You however keep distracting him and I refuse to miss this plane to kick Vegas’ ass again.”

“Ouais, you do that. We’ll try to beat the Bruins this time.”

Leo nodded, trying not to think too hard about what that would mean. If the Lions won this round, and the Rangers won theirs…

“All right, have a good game,” Finn flopped on his stomach beside Leo and leaned in close to the phone with an exaggerated kissing noise. “Love you, baby. Wish you were on our plane.”

“Ouais,” Logan said, mouth full of toast. Logan leaned down on his elbows, and Leo took the silver fleur-de-lis pendant in his fingers, as if he could touch Logan instead. “Fly safely.”

“You, too,” Leo said. “Text you when we land.”

Finn groaned after they ended the call and rolled into Leo until he was on his back, looking up at him. Leo pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then laughed when Finn pressed a palm to each of his cheeks and squeezed.

“Wanna watch more of that show on the plane?” Leo asked around his palms.

“Yeah, definitely,” Finn said, and closed his eyes as he let his hands drop. “Tired just thinking about going through an airport right now.”

“Yeah,” Leo said vaguely. He studied Finn’s face, stroking his red hair back from his forehead. He thought of his phone. The text didn’t mean anything. He should probably just ignore it, or delete it, but he couldn’t help the part of him that felt like that was admitting defeat.

“That’s nice,” Finn mumbled, eyes still closed and pressing up against Leo’s palm.

“You look so much younger when it’s pushed back,” Leo said.

“Are you telling me I look old?”

Leo laughed. “No, I’m just saying.” He pressed a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “C’mon. Gotta zip that suitcase of yours.”

He let himself get a little lost in the familiar chaos that was getting Finn out of the house on time. The running back and forth, nervous energy of him. It made Leo smile to think of himself waiting by the door while Finn and Logan walked back and forth remembering things that Leo had asked them if they had packed ten times. Charger? Toothbrush? Finn walked back and forth more slowly this time, though, as if he needed to feed off of Logan’s energy.

“Set?” Finn asked when they were locking up the apartment. He was turned down the hallway and held out his hand behind him, in the perfect position for Leo to take.

Text be damned, Leo thought, as he laced their fingers together. Thank God Jack Archer had been what he was in high school, thank God he had done what he’d done. And anyway. It was a long time ago now. Leo should forget about it. But things that hurt were stubborn that way.

“Loops!”

Remus passed blindly in the direction of Thomas’ voice. It felt like flying to be able to think like that, to be able to find someone with such ease. He shouldered back against Stone as he turned to see Thomas catch his pass on his stick. It pinged hard off of the crossbar and deflected into the net. The whistle blew.

“Fuck,” Remus breathed, and pushed his helmet back, taking his mouth guard out while they reset. The Vegas crowd was singing some song that Remus had heard so many times he’d forgotten the name. He glanced up at the clock. Five minutes left in the game and they’d been trying to break the tie of 3-3 since the first period.

“They’re singing again,” Thomas asked as they made their way towards the bench to swap out with Pascal’s line. “Why are they always fucking singing?”

“Look who they’re rooting for,” Remus said, and gave Finn a tap as they swapped out. “They’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Good shift,” Layla asked as they settled onto the bench.

“Thanks,” Remus said. “iPad?”

She passed it to him, and Remus nodded his thanks quickly before turning back to look again. Layla had a funny expression on her face. Watchful almost.

“All right?” Remus asked.

She blinked, and then smiled. “Yeah, you?”

Remus nodded, trying to shake the feeling that she had realized what her face had shown. He was flooded with adrenaline right now. It could be nothing. He looked down at the iPad. “Just want to pull this thing off in regulation.”

“Ouais,” Sirius said from the other side of Thomas and Olli. “We’re—allez, switch—I want to sit next to him—ouais, merci.”

Thomas snorted, but allowed Sirius to scoot past him to settle beside Remus. If Remus didn’t think the cameras were on them, he would have gave in and smiled in the dopey way he wanted to. I want to sit next to him.

“We’re playing mostly in our zone, we don’t want a momentum shift,” Sirius said. He leaned in to watch the shift with Remus as the puck slapped the boards somewhere beside them. In a lower voice, he said, “You know what it does to me when you no-look pass.”

“Why do you think I do it?” Remus clicked off the iPad and sent him a grin—maybe not the dopey love-struck one he had felt a moment ago, but one sharpened by the way Sirius’ voice sounded when he whispered to him on the bench like that.

Sirius’s smile was a little dopey, a little love-struck, and Remus stared at it for a moment before letting his own melt into that, too. He felt that he should probably have stopped feeling like he shouldn’t show these things by now, but it was still a pleasant surprise when he remembered that he could.

Black and Lupin…strategizing on the bench. Big smiles. Expecting to get out of this tie do you think, Dean?

I’d think so. This is a confident team, Lee. Stanley Cup champions. I’d say they badly want a second look.

Pascal came close twice in the time it took for the clock to tick down to three minutes. Kasey made three saves, one of them that made Remus hold his breath with the way he had to stretch down into the splits, glove hand arching over to snatch the puck out of the air.

Finn put his body in front of two pucks and took one hard in the ankle. He sat on the bench, head down and covered by his arms next to Leo, and let the ache wear off.

“Game update, Layla?” Leo called when Finn got back out there again, Remus taking his seat.

“Bruins are down 2 to the Rags,” Layla said.

Leo just nodded serenely. “All righty.”

“Keeping track of Logan?” Remus asked, wiping his visor clear of sweat and ice.

“A little.” Leo glanced at him, blue eyes bright in the shadow of his cap. “I get really nervous sometimes that he’s hurt and I don’t know about it.”

“Aw, Peanut,” Thomas said, leaning over from beside Remus.

“I know there’s nothing I could do either way, like even if he was here.” Leo offered them a smile. “But I don’t know. I get nervous.”

“Second line!” Coach’s voice boomed.

Remus stood to swapped out with Sirius’ line.

The ice calmed it all. Thoughts of Kasey, Sirius, Logan. Grayback who had skated out, too. He stayed in Remus’ peripheral vision, but not like a looming shark. Like all the others. Just another part of the game. And if Remus’ shoulders were burning that was because he was skating hard. It was because Thomas was right where he needed him to be, and so was Evgeni. Remus called for the puck, and felt it in his chest when Evgeni nailed Grayback in a mid-ice hit before he could get to Remus. The crowd booed. Remus just carried on up the ice, head low. He was fast. He’d been told that his entire career, and the clock might be quick, too, but he wanted to try and beat it.

“Loops!” Thomas’ voice came.

Remus was tempted to try the same thing. No-look. Keep his eyes on the defensemen in front of him. But he saw Ullmark reposition, subtly, ready for the pass. He put on the breaks hard, threw the defensemen off of him, and flicked the puck up.

The goal horn blared.

“Fuck,” Remus breathed, then laughed, and then he put his arms up just in time for Thomas to happily slam into him against the boards.

“Two-nothing,” Logan said, voice coming through the iPad speakers. “Impressive.”

“You guys will pull through, too,” Finn said, then grinned at Leo. “And Le’s getting the start for game four. I’m calling it now.”

They were laying in bed, Logan on the iPad between them, Leo and Finn’s feet tangled. Leo felt like his eyes should be half-closed, but instead he was wide awake. He and Finn had watched the highlights of the Rangers’ game, but those wouldn’t have showed any bad hits. Twitter wasn’t saying anything either, but Leo wanted to be sure.

“You’re okay, right?” he asked.

“Me?” Logan said, head popping out again through the neck of his hoodie. “Ouais, of course. Why?”

“Nothin’,” Leo said.

Finn smiled. “He’s just checking. Classic goalie, doesn’t like any of his players out of his sight.”

“It’s true,” Leo confessed.

“I’m okay, Soleil.” Logan fell back into his pillows, too, with a groan. “But these pillows are too hard and I wish you were hear to change the lightbulbs.”

“Me too,” Leo laughed.

Logan smiled, then looked up. “Hold on, my tea is here.”

They listened to Logan answer the door, voice changing the way he did when he talked to strangers. A little nervous, accent going heavier. Ah—yes, okay, thank you. Yeah, good night.

“You okay?” Finn asked while they waited.

“Me?” Leo looked over at him, his red hair sticking up against the pillow.

“You were quiet on the plane home.”

“What’s happening?” Logan asked, settling back on the bed with a steaming mug this time.

“Le was just quiet on the plane,” Finn said.

“I’m…” Leo hesitated. Hey just got my first call up. Made me think of you. “I’m fine.”

“Okay…” Finn said, but Leo could see the look he exchanged with Logan, even through a screen.

“No, no, I’m good,” Leo said but he picked up his phone from where it lay on the sheets beside him. “I just…Well, the other day I got…”

He felt Finn tense beside him, even sitting up a bit.

“Leo,” Logan said, voice tight and almost a little harsh. Leo looked up at him, surprised to find his green eyes wide, afraid. Finn was staring at him the same way.

“What?” Leo began, but then he realized. He’d trailed off, holding his phone, and it sounded like—

“Oh, God, no, I didn’t get a phone call. No, nothing like that.”

Finn let out a breath and slumped back down again, head dropping back against the pillows, eyes closed. “Jesus Christ.”

Leo reached out to rub a hand over his chest. “Sorry, sweetheart, sorry. No, I just got a text.”

Finn opened his eyes, blinking. “It’s okay, I just need to restart my heart. One sec.”

Logan laughed a little, but his eyes were still on Leo. “Text from who?”

Leo hesitated, then sighed. He knew what would happen next, but he wasn’t about to hide it from them. He didn’t want to. They knew all about Leo’s high school relationship—all of its lows. He wanted advice and, if he was being perfectly honest, he liked how protective they got. “From Jack.”

Their reaction was identical. Logan rolled his eyes, Finn made a bleh sound and lifted his head up. Leo couldn’t help but laugh.

“High-school Jack?” Finn made sure. “Your gross, idiot—”

“Stupide,” Logan muttered, blowing on his mug.

“Selfish,” Finn raised his eyes to the ceiling as if more adjectives were up there. “Insensitive, book hating—”

“Your butterscotch cookie hating,” Logan added pointedly.

“Meanie, butt-head, protein shake addict, triple shot latte monstrosity,” Finn was still going and Leo laughed harder, the bed shaking a little beneath them.

“Fuck-head,” Logan said.

“Asshole of a high school boyfriend texted you?”

Leo passed Finn the phone with the still unread message. “Yep.”

Finn sent him a questioning look, and when Leo nodded, he clicked on it. “Hey just got my first call up,” Finn read out. “Made me think of you. Hope you’re good.”

Logan scoffed. “Hope you’re good?” He raised his voice, chin tilted up like he could shout right through the camera. “Ouais, he’s good. He’s got a Cup and two boyfriends.”

“He’s good,” Finn said to the phone. “Leave.”

“Who even has him?” Logan asked, shaking his head like he was about to scold Jack from afar. It was a gesture that was very much like his mother.

Leo bit his lip. “He got called up from Hartford.” His eyes went to Logan, who all but choked on his drink.

“Non,” Logan said. “Non, non, non.”

“Nom, nom, nom,” Finn said, but he looked just as horrified. “I thought he was playing in the AHL for—for Tampa!”

“I did too, but no, he’s going to New York.” Leo said. “I kind of stopped keeping track though.” He reached out and brushed a hand through Finn’s hair. “Why waste any more of my energy you know?”

“Jack’s in New York now?” Finn asked. “Shit. Lo…”

“He’s going to be in my locker room,” Logan said, and then the camera went dark, like he had knocked his phone in the bed sheets and quilt. All they heard was a muffled groan of, “Non.”

“I looked it up,” Leo said. “He’ll be in your practice tomorrow morning and then, well, obviously for the next Bruins game.”

“I hope he fucks up and gets sent down,” Finn said.

Leo laughed. “No, come on.”

“He deserves it.”

“We were in high school,” Leo said, but he didn’t even sound convincing to himself.

Logan appeared again, looking rumbled like he had set his tea down to face-plant into the too-hard pillows. His green eyes were set, but not in the glare Leo had expected. It was almost earnest. Determined.

“I’m going to keep track of how many times I get to tell him I’m Leo’s boyfriend.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Leo said, heart pulling. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“Non, non,” Logan said, smiling.

Finn pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek and kept his lips there when he said, “Nom, nom.”

Leo laughed and turned his head for a real kiss. Behind his closed eyes, he saw the flash of Logan taking a screenshot.

“You must have six hundred of those by now,” Finn said.

“Yes, and I love them,” Logan said simply.

“You should look through them all whenever Jack’s around,” Finn said.

“That might be kind of weird of him,” Leo said.

Finn scoffed and got an arm around Leo’s shoulder to pull him in against his chest. “It was weird of him to break my baby’s heart.”

Leo just rested his temple against Finn’s shoulder and smiled at Logan. “It wasn’t heartbreak exactly. It was…it was just hard.”

“Sounds like heartbreak to me,” Finn said.

Logan shifted on his end of the call. “I don’t like talking about your hearts breaking.”

Finn pressed a kiss to his fingers and pressed it to the screen. “All healed up, baby.”

Leo paused for a moment although, beneath his cheek and hand, he didn’t feel Finn do the same. No tense up. Leo tried to look up at Finn’s face without moving too much, and it was calm. Logan’s too.

Leo knew how much pain they had put each other through. Somehow, the word heartbreak still startled him, even if the two of them said it like it was a fact.

“Don’t worry about Jack, Le,” Finn said, and Leo blinked, realizing they were both looking at him. “You don’t have to reply. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I know.” Leo pulled the iPad closer. “Hey, if we close our round earlier than you guys, maybe we’ll have enough days off that we can come see you. We’ll be coming to New York anyway because the Rangers are looking great.”

Logan smiled. “Merde. Don’t even bring it up yet.”

“Yeah,” Finn rubbed his eyes. “I can’t imagine one of us, like, knocking out the other—”

“Lo’s right.” Leo patted Finn’s cheek. “Yeah, not yet.”

“We should get some sleep,” Logan said. “Even though I love talking to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Finn said. “We always start out saying we just want to say goodnight and then talk for four hours.”

Leo laughed. “We should expect this by now.”

“Ouais,” Logan said, and Leo watched his eyes look between them. “I miss you.”

“Miss you, too,” Leo said. “But soon, yeah?” But a little curl of dread pushed up through him at the thought of facing the Rangers in the Conference Semi-Finals. He’d honestly rather play the Snakes, who seemed to be pulling through the first round as easily as the Lions.

“Soon,” Logan said, and Leo swore he saw the same thoughts flicker through his face, too.

“Jack doesn’t know what’s coming for him!” Logan called at the last moment, and flashed them a big grin before ending the call right as Leo laughed.

Remus should have been expecting it.

The Knights were losing the series two-nothing, and also losing this game 4-1. Remus was caught up in the sheer, impossible delight of it all. The entire league was watching with awed, slightly confused expressions. Twitter was all question marks and amazement because the Lions were good, but they weren’t that good. The beginning of their season had been shit. The Knights had had injuries but they weren’t bad. This streak felt unbalanced and odd.

And the Knights weren’t happy to be losing like this. Who would be?

So Remus really, really should have seen it coming. The desperation, and the dirt.

Sirius got the first of it. A high, fast hit on the blue line from Carrier. Sirius, usually so aware, had been looking from the pass from James. Remus watched it in slow motion, and yet somehow didn’t even have time to shout.

The crowd cheered with the hit, but the entire Lions bench stood up.

Oh, wow, what a hit by Will Carrier on the Lions Captain.

Little high, if I do say so myself. I’d say that’s a penalty for sure, Lee.

We were talking earlier, weren’t we, Lee, about how we were surprised Vegas wasn’t being very aggressive. What do we say now, eh?

Its frustration, I’m sure. It can’t feel good to be losing this totally. Whether its injury issues or puck luck or simply Gryffindor’s domination, it can’t feel good at all.

Remus held his breath, watched Sirius on his knees checking his mouth for blood. James was on Carrier, giving him a shove and gesturing to the ref. The ref nodded, looking like he was telling James to calm down, and blew his whistle, pointing a scowling Carrier to the penalty box.

Sirius went up to a knee, and Remus watched him take a breath. Fix his helmet. Check his mouth again, but his glove came away clean. He worked his jaw a little, rolled one of his shoulders. He looked like he was about to rise fully, when a gray and gold uniform skated right in front of him and offered him a gloved hand.

It was Théo Angevine.

“Huh,” Jackson said from beside him. “They know each other?”

Remus watched as Sirius took the hand and rose. He wasn’t much taller than Théo, and the two of them looked at each other for a moment. Remus didn’t think he saw either of them say anything, though, and after a second, Théo skated towards his own bench.

“Re?” Jackson asked.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Remus said vaguely.

Huh. Some nice sportsmanship there, Dean. Wouldn’t have seen that coming.

Yeah. Théo Angevine, with a helping hand up for the Captain. Théo’s scored two of the Knights’ goals in this series. I guess we’ll see now if a hit like that does anything for Vegas’ momentum.

It didn’t.

The locker room was breathless and happy. 5-2.

“Let’s pull this off in four, boys,” Coach said, standing in front of them. He folded his glasses away and stuck them into his shirt pocket. “Cap, keep that pressure on. Harzy, good job with that pass in the second, Kuns, drawing the penalties. Keep it up.”

There was a chorus of thumps delivered to stalls and shouts, and Remus just smiled as he bent to tug at his skate laces.

“Remus?”

He looked up. “Oh, hey, Layla.”

Layla smiled. “Congrats. Uh—Could I see you for a second?” She pointed behind her, towards the visitor’s PT room.

“Uh, sure.” Remus thought about taking his skates off, but stood instead. “I’ll follow you.”

“You all right?” Remus asked as he closed the door to the office. “I only mean—I mean, I’m fine, didn’t get one of those hits, so…”

“Did you expect to?” Layla asked. She had her back to him briefly as she set her bench bag down, but when she turned to him, her brown eyes held that same look he had seen before. Watchful.

Remus blinked. “What?”

“Did you expect to be a target tonight?” Layla asked. “From…From Grayback?”

Remus just stared at her. He felt the back of his neck heating up and suddenly wished they weren’t in a small office.

Layla took a breath, moving her braids to the back of her neck. “Would you mind if I ask you something, and…and when I do, you can feel free to tell me to mind my own business? I’m just…I’m worried. And no one deserves to be alone in anything.”

“Um.” Remus glanced back at the door. “Okay…”

She nodded towards Remus’ shoulder. “How did you hurt your shoulder?”

Remus didn’t move. “I didn’t.”

He wasn’t even sure why he said that, only that the deflection had risen up in him instantly and of its own will.

“I don’t mean tonight.”

Remus wasn’t proud of it, exactly, but he was glad he hadn’t taken off his skates. It was good, just then, to feel taller than he really was.

“I mean your last game,” Layla said. “I mean your scar.”

Remus was shaking his head before he even meant to. “Layla. I’m okay. I know what you’re thinking—”

She took a step forward. “It isn’t an impact injury.”

For some reason, what he thought of right then was the Showtime film crew. It’s ridiculous name. The Road to The Stanley Cup.

So, Remus, excited to play against your old college buddy?

Remus sighed and sat down in one of the chairs. The added height from his skates made him feel more curled up like this, caved in on himself.

“No,” Remus said softly. “It isn’t.”

He heard Layla’s short intake of breath. She had her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes were gentle and worried.

Remus drew in a breath. It stirred it all up. The questions. Even the ice.

“I could have tried harder, that’s true,” Remus said, and then realized she hadn’t asked anything.

“What do you mean?”

He let out a humorless laugh. To talk about it when it first happened. He could have told his own mother at least, when he had woken up in the hospital. He’d thought about it a thousand times since then. It’s not the hit, he cornered me and—and—

Instead, it had taken him months, and a hundred nights of sobs muffled by his pillow. When he had finally whispered it to his mom, in the complete dark, tucked into her side in his bed like he was Julian’s age rather than his own, he had felt so good. But not quite good enough.

“The road to the Stanley Cup,” Remus sighed. He was suddenly bone tired. “Some are rougher than others.”

“So, it was him. Cole was telling the truth.”

Remus snapped his head. “What?”

“Grayback.”

“What the hell does Cole know?”

Layla cursed, rubbing at one of her eyes. “A lunch? God, Remus I promise we weren’t—he just said—he asked me, because some of the guys…well, they do protect you.”

Remus had a flash of that summer, discussing predictions, sitting at a sunny table eating.

“Remus,” Layla sat beside him. “I promise, I would never discuss—”

Remus just shook his head. “I know.” He sighed, rubbing a hand through his sweaty hair. “Yeah, there was a moment this summer. I know. Smart kid.”

Remus didn’t know why, but he smiled.

Layla frowned at him. “Remus…”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, then laughed a little, emotion lodged in his throat. It felt like too much. “I don’t know why I’m laughing. Oh my God, sorry, it’s not funny.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Jesus, it’s not funny.”

“What happened?” Layla asked softly.

“Layla,” Remus said weakly. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Layla said. “It was something off ice. Am I right?"

Remus sighed. Are you excited to play with your old college buddy?

“I was going number one,” Remus said. “And he wanted that instead.”

Layla’s eyes went sad. Horrified. “So he…”

“I could have tried harder to stand up to him,” Remus said. “That’s what I meant.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I…” Remus laughed again. “Sorry, I really don’t know why I’m laughing. I suppose it’s just…frustrating. He told me he knew about me.” When Layla’s eyes widened he put a hand on her knee. “He didn’t know anything. He couldn’t have, but…I was scared, I wanted to succeed. What I realize now is that I didn’t have a secret.”

“That’s…” She looked horrified as they went to where she had seen his scar before. “Disgusting. He needs to answer for what he did.”

“No. No, Layla. He doesn’t.”

“But what he did—”

“Did what? He hurt me, yes, but what else? No, I’m not belittling what happened to me, but did he ruin my life? No. I chose another path, a path that I loved. That you love. Because of it I found the man that I love. The man I’m going to marry.”

“But…but you deserve…”

Remus just smiled. “In any other universe, Sirius and I probably would have been rivals. Or if not rivals, just not have known each other. I have what I deserve. He has nothing but a bad reputation. That’s how I’m trying to learn how to think about it.”

Remus was pleased to find that, as he said the words, he found them to be true. Something eased, just a little more, inside. He would always have to live with the nagging feeling that he hadn’t thought it through. It had never occurred to him that one day he’d be ready to tell his truth. That regret was easier to breathe through than it had once been. Peace was slow in the making.

Layla straightened, watching him carefully. “Are you angry I asked?”

Remus shrugged. “Not…exactly. I have been trying to shut the door on this thing for a while, but…” He thought of Sirius. “Maybe that’s not the kind of thing you do to your past.”

Layla smiled. “Maybe not. Thank you for telling me anyway. I just…I only asked because I worried you were just…sitting with it. But the boys know?”

“Most of them,” Remus said. “And if it makes you feel better, I like that you know, too.”

“Your doctors didn’t? How could they not?”

Remus shrugged. “They had a patient they needed to stitch back together. I’m sure they weren’t thinking about the politics of it.” Remus rolled his eyes. “Politics. You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Layla sighed, but nodded. “All right. Okay. You know you best. Isn’t that the PT rule?”

“Most of the time.” Remus smiled. “But you still gotta be able to know when they’re lying and it’s hurting. Am I lying?”

Layla smiled back and shook her head. “Maybe you were at one point. But, no, not right now.”

“He helped me up.”

With the bathroom door open in their hotel room, Remus could see Sirius laying on the bed in the mirror.

Remus folded the wet washcloth and turned off the tap, then the bathroom light. “Théo?”

“Hm,” Sirius nodded. He opened his arm when Remus kneeled on the bed and Remus tucked himself against his side.

Sirius kept his gray eyes on the ceiling. Searching. Thinking. “It surprised me.”

“I saw,” Remus said. “Everyone saw. Did he say anything?”

Sirius shook his head. “Non. Just…looked at me for a second.”

“Maybe that means you don’t have to be strangers after all,” Remus said, softening it with a kiss to his jaw.

“Maybe,” Sirius said softly. “I’m not sure. We’ll see.”

“We will,” Remus said. He propped himself up on an elbow. “But I don’t think that last game is something to be worrying about and thinking over. You were outstanding.”

Sirius smiled. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you on the ice.” He leaned up towards Remus, pushing gently until Remus was on his back. “Switching places with you over the boards.”

“I love it, too,” Remus said, settling his hands on Sirius’ hips. “Showtime get you after the game?”

“Ouais.” Sirius sighed. “Asked me if I thought we could take it in four.”

Remus snorted. “I feel like I should be happy they’re here, like it’s a privilege, but I just don’t.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they just love asking you about your old college buddy.” Sirius wrinkled his nose. “I know they don’t know what they’re saying, but it makes me want to throw their cameras.”

Remus smiled, but it felt tighter. “Hit one of them with their microphones.”

Sirius laughed, messing with one of the ties on Remus’ sweatshirt. “Ouais.”

Remus took a breath. “Layla figured it out.”

Sirius�� eyes didn’t move from the ties. He pulled at the neck of his sweatshirt a little and bent down to kiss the dip between Remus’ collarbones, then over his adam’s apple. “Hm?”

“Cole, too. About Grayback.”

Sirius pulled back quickly at that, looking down at Remus with alarm. “What?”

“It’s okay,” Remus said quickly. “Cole knew because of the way you guys act about him, and Layla noticed that my scar wasn’t what I said it was.”

Sirius took a moment with that, eyes going somewhere over Remus’ head, searching, before he nodded.

“Why did she ask you about it?” he finally asked.

“She thought I was just sitting on it,” Remus said. “And I guess I am, kind of, but she thought I was doing it alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Sirius said, a fierceness creeping in.

Remus smiled, reaching up to curl a strand of Sirius’ hair around his finger. “Could say the same thing to you.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, then grumbled when Remus flicked his temple for it.

“This hotel has a pool,” Sirius said pointedly.

Remus paused, then laughed hard. “Is that your out for these kinds of conversations?”

Sirius just grinned and leaned down. “That’s my in.” He pressed a quick kiss to Remus’ lips before pushing himself up. “Come on, allez.”

The pool was dim, with soft, warm lights along the edges of the room and below the water, making the blue tiles shimmer. They were alone as they dropped their towels on two of the lounge chairs.

“Coach would kill us if he knew we weren’t sleeping right now,” Remus said, dipping a foot in. “Oh, it’s warm.”

“Beats an ice bath?” Sirius asked.

Remus sat down on the edge before lowering himself in. “Oh God, it’s heaven.” He dunked his head under and let himself luxuriate in the world going silent for a moment. He pushed his hands upwards gently to keep himself down and let the water ease some of the soreness from his muscles before coming up to float on his back. “Get in here,” he said in Sirius’ direction, before he felt two hands on his hips and opened his eyes to see Sirius wet up to the chest and right in front of him. “Oh. Hi.”

Sirius just pulled him in until Remus’ legs were around his waist, lighter in the water. “Hi.”

Remus pushed his wet hands through Sirius’ hair. “You have to dunk.”

Sirius wrinkled his nose. “Then I’ll sleep with it wet. I already took a sho—”

But Remus used his position to push down on Sirius’ shoulders and bring them under together, laughing, maybe getting some bubbles up his nose, but it was worth it for the wet puppy look of Sirius, his dark hair plastered against his forehead and in his eyes.

“Thank you for that,” Sirius coughed a little.

“You wanted to come to the pool,” Remus said, tightening his legs around Sirius’ waist. He pushed Sirius’ hair out of his eyes so he wouldn’t let go of Remus’ waist, and watched as the gray of his irises took on the blue-yellow of the water and lights. “Now the pool has come to you.”

“Ouais, it has.” Sirius smiled, real and easy.

Remus just smiled and let the water settle itself around them. Sirius had one hand supporting him, the other beginning to trace up and down Remus’ spine. He walked them a little deeper in, until they were up to their shoulders. When Sirius leaned in to press a kiss to Remus’ scar, just above the waterline, Remus sent him a soft, half smile and kissed one of the scars on his cheeks that, to be honest, Remus wasn’t sure had come from hockey at all. When he pulled back again, Sirius had a complicated expression on his face.

“What?” Remus asked softly, arms draped loosely around Sirius’ neck. “What’s that look for, tell me.”

Sirius swallowed, his eyes darting over Remus’ face. Remus watched drops of water trail over his skin and cling to his eyelashes. He waited until Sirius’ eyes found his again.

“I want to take your name,” Sirius said.

The only sound for a long moment was the water lapping at the sides of the pool. A phone ringing far off. There was a drop of water trailing down Sirius’ cheek, and for a moment Remus thought it was a tear. He caught it with his thumb anyway.

“What?” he whispered, biting his lip against a smile. “You do?”

Sirius nodded. His hands had stilled against Remus’ back, only holding him now. He looked nervous, lips pressed together and biting at the inside of his cheek. God, Remus hardly knew what to say.

“Gonna cause a lot of people to have to buy new sweaters,” was the first thing that came to mind.

It had the intended effect. Sirius smiled, gave a half-hearted shrug, but he still looked like there was something else, something more, that was tugging at him.

“Baby,” Remus said gently. “If this is about—what I said the other day. And your family…you own your name, Sirius. You do.”

Sirius looked away, around at the dim blue glow. “It’s not—well, it is. But it’s not. It’s just—I want to be in your family. I love them, I love your mom and dad, I love Jules so much. I want to be in a good family. I don’t want anything to do with mine. Merde, not Reg, I don’t mean Reg, just…them.”

Them. His parents.

Remus frowned. He touched Sirius’ cheek, brought their eyes back together. “The family you have around you has had nothing to do with names for a long time now. Nothing to do with blood.”

“I know,” Sirius said. “I know, but…” They were far away from anything, floating quietly, in the middle of the pool. Remus knew Sirius’ feet were touching the ground but it felt like neither of them had to. “I still want it.”

Remus brought his hands to Sirius’ neck, steadying them in the blue. Sirius leaned forward briefly and pressed a gentle kiss to Remus’ mouth.

“You want my name?” Remus whispered. The words were pinging around his mind. Sirius Lupin. It kind of made Remus want to cry. They hadn’t talked about this yet. Not really. Remus Black had crossed his mind, but it felt like something he would have scribbled in a school notebook. This all felt so much realer than names, the ties so much deeper. But if it felt real to Sirius, then…

“Yeah,” Sirius said firmly. “I do.” Then, he smiled, secret, just between them. “Mon vœu.”

Remus bit his lip, unable to help the slightly giddy laugh that escaped him. He brushed a thumb over Sirius’ bottom lip. “Well. Okay, then.”

Sirius smiled. “Merci.”

“But, really, in all truth, a lot of people are gonna have to buy new jerseys.”

Sirius tilted his head back, laughing. “Too bad.”

Remus drank in his smile. Mon vœu. “S. Lupin doesn’t exactly have the same punch.”

“That sounds like someone else’s problem,” Sirius said.

Remus laughed. “Fine, fine. God, I love you, you know that?”

“I think I might,” Sirius said.

He was leaning in for a kiss when a voice echoed over the pool.

“Oh, come on.”

They jolted, looking up to see Finn and Leo standing there holding towels and wearing swim suits.

“This room’s taken, boys,” Remus called back, tightening his arms around Sirius’ neck.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Finn tossed his towel onto a chair, waving a finger. “Nope.” Leo made a startled sound when Finn promptly picked him up around the waist, half over his shoulder, before running and jumping into the pool. The splash sent the water in a wave up to their necks. Remus could feel Sirius laughing against him when Finn and Leo both came up spluttering. Finn flicked his soaked hair out of his eyes. “I just claimed it.” He sent a splash in their direction.

“Wow,” Leo said, blinking chlorine out of his eyes. “So you can throw me over your shoulder. Okay.”

“How long you been here for?” Finn said. “Times up! Give me and my lover boy the pool.”

“Non, you can have that side over there,” Sirius said, and then the door opened again.

“Oh, hey, big party!” Evgeni’s voice boomed, and he, Jackson, and Kasey appeared in the doorway. “Not text? Mean.”

“Fuck,” Finn moaned, and Leo just laughed.

“Sorry, baby,” Leo said. “Looks like we’re gonna have to make new plans. But hey,” Leo nodded to Sirius and Remus and then wrapped his long legs around Finn’s waist from behind. “They seem to have some good ideas.”

The door opened again, and James’ face lit up when he saw them.

“Team swim! Yes!” James chanted, fists raised in the air. Pascal, rubbing his eyes, followed him in, then followed by Kota, then Olli, then Cole, then what looked like most of the entire team.

“I am too old for this,” Pascal sighed.

“Nah,” Kasey said, and gave Pascal a firm tap on the butt. “Get in that water, old man.”

“Wow,” Remus said. “At least we got a head start.”

Sirius just laughed as the team’s voices echoed warmly all around them.

“Hey, Le, you know the song Nightswimming?”

“Twenty bucks, Nado, bigger splash than you!”

“Do you think they would room service in here? Fucking starving, man…”

Sirius and Remus watched the pool fill up around them, water choppy with laughter and movement.

“See?” Remus whispered. “Family.”

Sirius blinked fast a few times, and Remus was more sure this time that it wasn’t just pool water clinging to his lashes. “Ouais. I see.”

Logan was exhausted, frustrated, but at least Luke had ordered burgers and fries and Percy was making them double over with laughter. They were all at Luke’s apartment trying to wind down enough to not be painfully aware that they had a lose-all game tomorrow. The Bruins were one game away from knocking them out. They couldn’t lose.

They had a video game paused on the TV, and ginger beers all around—they were too tired for anything more. Logan didn’t want any extra haziness. They could have been watching the Gryffindor-Vegas game, but Logan figured the others knew him well enough by now to know that it’d just be stressful for him. He appreciated that no one had suggested it.

Percy and Will were arguing over some play from two games ago, but smiling while they did it. Logan didn’t think he’d ever seen those two fight. Luke and Saint were listening, Saint occasionally throwing in a few words with the purpose of stoking one side of the fire, or the other. His feet were in Luke’s lap, and when Luke squeezed his ankle with a teasing look of warning, trying to get him to stop keeping Will and Percy going, Saint just reached up with a toe and poked him in the chin. It drew one of Luke’s realer smiles out, and when he caught Logan watching, the smile stayed in place.

A few months ago, Logan never would have been able to dream of this level of happiness. He missed his boys. God, he missed them. It was a bruise that pricked and darkened every time he thought about it. But it was only a bruise. Not a break. It might not fade, but it wouldn’t leave a scar on him, either.

Logan just smiled, giving Percy a scuff on the back of his head on the way to the kitchen. He liked Luke’s apartment. It was simple, pretty sparse but still homey. In the bathroom, there had been two toothbrushes. Logan wondered if one of them was Saint’s, and if it was there for the occasional night, or for the regular ones. He reached into the fridge and grabbed another ginger beer. He was contemplating one of the fruit popsicles Luke had said were up for grabs in the freezer when Luke called out to him from the living room.

“Hey, Tremz!”

“Ouais?” Logan called back. He pushed the wooden stick of a strawberry one through the rapper and pulled it out. It was sweet and tangy, better than the spicy ginger beer.

“Check your phone! Your boys just took Vegas out of the playoffs in four.”

Remus had dreamed of this so many times. The Cup, yes. The history making, yes.

But more than that: the celebratory ice pile.

Sirius had him crushed against his chest, and everyone was jumping around him so that he had to jump, too. Someone was shouting right in his ear, but he didn’t care. He threw his head back and shouted right along. The Vegas crowd was dejected around them, but enough Gryffindor fans had made the trip to be jumping and victorious right there with them.

It might’ve be only the first round, but this was farther than Remus had thought he would ever skate.

“Re,” Sirius shouted, and then pulled him into a jostling, sloppy kiss. Remus didn’t care if any cameras were there. He wanted to be able to watch the way Sirius smiled into it when he got home.

The next moment, he was being pulled away, into another set of arms.

“Hey, hey!” Thomas was grinning hard. He pressed a kiss to Remus’ cheek before looking him in the eye and pounding a palm against his chest. “Here’s to second times, Lupin.”

Remus grinned and pulled Thomas down for a tight hug. “Second times. Second chances.”

#vaincre lumosinlove #wolfstar #coops #o'knutzy #cw: mention of abuse #cw: mention of injury

202 notes · View notes